Deposited, held in Amazon's Adonis arms
Hidden inhospitably stashed, kite shadow
Curled furtive, stairway stupefied windshield
Hallucinations lag languished in amusement
Monkeys freeze, screech scamper scratch
Egg smooth roof unscathed cubby abode
Jagged gaps hang fur curtain climbing mates
Swung carefree in cramped homecamp humid
Aghast lopped log rest exhales raggedly
Snapped propeller askew salutes defeat
Wing bent lungs transform fortitude into fuel
Crushed accordion bodied anaconda swivels
Lock jaw latch tight to jungle gym frame
Liquid flow flanks scale, giant slug glued
Fork tongue tastes rain drip following day hope
Fangs prong Coconas sour tomato gold codicil
Cluster juice burst berries, bittersweet bulbs
Knobs of Contreu twisted tangerine vitamin
Fibre feeds faith indispensible, thin torsos entwined
Fight against forbode of abandonment, exhausted
Anonymous Minor Survivors
Middle of Jungle June
I thereby pledged to leave alone
endeavors bound for ills, my own
to worship at your fleshly throne
and bow before your pleasures
their ends, quite at your leisures
oh all my prayers are met, replete
while fawning honors at your feet
ten hot-pink piggies, soft ‘n’ sweet
lined straight as little misses
kept clean for courtly kisses
I'm just a jester - scoundrel, true
one foolish fool for moonlite, blue
when daubed upon the husk of you
pearled garland for your bedding
to naughty knots, we're heading
yet while I worship yours, all-in
and fan our friction, skin-to-skin
you call another's name (with sin)
and perfect passion molders
so cleaving, as it smoulders ...
this fool's head ... from his shoulders.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, October 11, 2022
( photograph taken by Gregory R Barden )
If I were a poisonous snake
I would get the last laugh
Giving my slayer a surprisingly venomous bite
Hours after he lopped off my head with a machete.
Only snakes are able to do this you know.
He trimmed a bit much off the top,
but now they are putting a stop.
To settle affairs
he handed down hairs.
Get the shears!
Items lopped!
It’s what you call a bad hair day;
they say he has taxes to pay.
He’s under duress
from the IRS.
Deduct, yes?
Toupee, nay!
—————
Another weird one, Welsh this time, the Clogyrnach: 8a8a5b5b3b3a
Kind of reminds me of a limerick
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/clogyrnach-poetic-form
I bought a pair of garden shears,
The first I’ve ever used.
The shrubs looked much too tall and wild
So I was most enthused.
I have no training, but I thought
Some snipping here and there
Would make things look much neater;
If I messed up, who would care?
I trimmed away dead branches
Then I lopped some from the top.
Some left-side leaves, some right-side twigs;
I watched the cuttings drop.
The shears worked great and I felt proud
So after quite a spell,
I looked to see a job well done
But couldn’t even tell!
So relaxed, it makes me nervous
Your dutiful, unbridled service
You, traveling in a gypsy's circus
Of course, it all makes sense
We put up tents and take down temples
Middle Eastern sands, and Oriental
The stark replaces sentimental
Geographical defense
It's time, now,
To meet in the tents
Our potions, bottled
Our money spent
So complete, it begs a question:
Where to assemble for the convention?
Coffee on a stove-extension
& tea on a river's bank
The grizzly bears all in our driveway
The summer marigolds in private
The ball of prophecy is shining –
Just tell me who to thank
It's time, now…
Gather on the trail –
The deer, lopped at the tail –
A wilderness travail –
Stored dinner in a pail –
It's time, now,
To meet in the tents
Our potions, bottled
Our money spent
The Coming of Summer The Fear of Fall
David J Walker
Half-past every euphemism defining
The truthfulness of youthful youth
or
The youthfulness of truthful truth
Crumbling behind the chime of clocks
And locks of hair lopped off along the way
Today is
Today is
Today
Listen for the pitter-patter of
Little feet
Catching up
Spinning calendars
Faster
Faster
Summer is calling
A fearful Fall
Is all
one can count on
Life on Earth is but a brief interlude,
watercolors fading, becoming air.
Yet, loving once surely we could conclude
love is the purpose of our being there.
Night upon night, it's my dreams you intrude.
You thought this was all there was to one's life:
one chance to know beauty and life's wonder.
Sorrow and happiness mingled with strife,
much to be carelessly cast asunder,
as if lopped off by a marauder's knife.
I believe there is more, for I can feel
the touch of your skin brushing against mine.
A different moment on Time's great wheel;
a unique story written line by line,
another life's mysteries become real.
I see us together in boundless space,
your voice whispering love words in my ear.
I'll kiss your lips, caress your whiskered face,
we'll murmur words only spirits can hear.
centuries will pass during our embrace.
I will search for you behind every cloud,
upon every star you might catch a ride.
I'll hear every voice that beckons aloud
until I hear your's and I'm by your side;
we two alone in the afterlife crowd.
October 5, 2021
Quintain (Sicilian)
Emile Pinet, Sponsor
8th Place
I like to stick my head up.
Sometimes it gets lopped off.
While the angry one glares at me.
I like to give them my views.
Especially when they are unpopular.
Even when they surround me and mob me
Yelling and screaming in a threatening way.
I like to be counted.
Even when they take swords and hatchets
And lop my head off at the neck.
Even when they do it jaggedly.
That’s on them, right?
I like to stick my head up.
Sometimes it gets lopped off.
By the angry ones.
Served to me on a Santa Claus platter.
And it laughs.
Some weird stranger came up behind me
with a machete and lopped off my head
It rolled away,
down an embankment,
landing in a ditch of wet soggy leaves.
It was cackling that crazy laugh I have when I am nervous,
not realizing it was dead.
I ran after it, and plopped it back into place,
but it had lost some neck muscles, and it fell off again.
I chased it as it tumbled across the highway,
missing a black truck by inches. The weird stranger
was running in the other direction now.
I could not see him go. My eyes were gone.
My soggy angry head was yelling at me now.
“You are dead stupid!”
This made me mad, so
I kicked it into the back forty.
Then I stomped back up the
hill, determined to catch and
kick the weird stranger.
I will teach him for making
me dead.
Oh to the whoa, Honey, today I saw a trio of funny!
Mercy be, I saw three furry cats that all wore hats;
one was skinny and curvy, two chunky, but sturdy.
Curvy was all a-curtsy in a flat, wacked, black hat
that on top popped a nervy, lopped off, black bat.
One of the chunky cats was pure funky to look at
for his hat seemed to have been picked at
like a muskrat laid splayed on a slat from train splat.
Yes, that cat’s hat slouched, but matched her pouch.
The third in the herd on that jerky street journey,
you know, the other chunky in this controversy,
was quite the brat-cat, a beau putting on a show.
On this cat’s head sat, to my dread, a red bath mat
that was thread as an opera hat in a dread format.
So, honey-bunny, not for love or for money
could I scat catalog these cats in hats,
but I worked at chit-chat while all three sat
and was agog to learn through our dialogue
that their names were Dog, Frog and Hog!
CayCay Jennings
December 29, 2018
For truth, his head got lopped off
John the Baptist, prophet of God
He wore raiment that was not soft,
his voice was as an iron rod
It gave the wicked beat down blues
For truth, his head got lopped off
Preaching to the people good news,
but the unbelievers did scoff
He did not suffer on the cross,
but his voice cries out from the grave
For truth, his head got lopped off:
he said the Messiah would save
Woe to the wicked, he declared
in leather girdle and sackcloth
Baptism of faith was shared
For truth, his head got lopped off
She was a high born whore,
who lived luxuriously
Didn't have one ounce of compassion for the poor
She licked the seethed bones
with a viper's tongue
Guillotine parlor games fed her bloodlust for doing wrong
Marie Antoinette
was as stone cold-hearted
as they get
When told there was a famine in the land,
and the people had no bread to make
She boorishly replied: Well, let them eat cake
Life under her evil reign was pure living hell,
thus the people rose up and violently rebelled
So she suffered a most indelicate fate,
got her head lopped off ...
sweet justice served on a pie plate
On the edge of our garden stands a lonesome Pine,
Gnarled and twisted, an ugly beauty, hard to define.
Older than the age or so I am led to believe,
Planted generations ago, why, I cannot conceive.
It has branches long dead with pine cones long died,
Huge branches, green with life,where birds flit and fly.
At an impossible angle, it stands out of the cliff face,
A huge prop of steel is needed to keep it in place.
I had some huge lower branches lopped off to ensure,
That it stands there majestic for many years more.
© Dave Timperley 1st May 2016
One's life can be so full
with various kinds of extreme
makes one so lopped sided
not seeking as one does seem
When you want to hold yourself
in a state of extreme fallenness
going from one end of spectrum
to the other fulfilling your barrenness
Such an up and down life cycle
removes any balance you may attain
by pushing your mind about to burst
makes one think you could be insane
This shows the importance to find balance
proving that maturity is your key
to be living holding all things equal
so your eyes can ever so plainly see
Once you've found key to balance
so important you hold this vital thing
life with balance so satisfying
this gift a present to many may bring
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