My neighbor lady, Treena, has a 'thing' for cats
Says they keep her home free of mice and rats
She pets their heads and their butts, she pats
when some of the snippy felines get into spats
She shares her loveseat with all her furry friends
On tasty cat food, a huge amount she spends
Three smelly kitty litter boxes often offends
the noses of her suitors, her visiting boyfriends
Treena took some offense at a certain politician
who has dissed cat ladies in his own admission
She won't vote for him in vice president position
and signed it "Cat Ladies Against Vance' petition
So, there she sits with blue clogs upon her feet
Content with saying, "My life feels so complete."
When the cats all meow, begging her for a treat
She gives them a pinch of catnip instead of meat
Her home is filled with lots of scratching posts
and there's not one cat that she loves the most
If they could speak of Treena, they would boast,
about their kind human and drink to her a toast
My sojourner is my best friend,
I wish our journeys gladly end;
Isn't dwelling, here, is an inn?
Love, peace, and compassion should win...!
Petal of each flower matters,
In love, each division scatters;
Each pet is in a peaceful mood,
Only on love alone, I brood...!
My heart blends with each bird and beast.
Each being takes my heart's loveseat;
How grand is the one who formed me!
I just wait for his face to see...!
Here i sit on the loveseat
Which is my writing place
Slash and the computer
I sit in stillness and ponder
Which seems like long hours
Wondering what poetry form
I will create next yet
No idea comes to mind
So I sleep on it all night
The Ghost writer speaks
She gives me a title
On paper i write
By my night table
Then I sleep again
Pondering my thoughts
So with the pen and paper
The pen wrote these words
A poem created
Ready for submit
On the coumputer
She slips then misses her seat
As the chair crushes her feet
She lets out a cry
That made it to the sky
That drops her a beautiful loveseat
Nagging mate
framing blame in accusations
Beliefs fed on
self deception
Pressure valves bursting
Calm reason hijacked
No loveseat reception
Words peel off
unfiltered
unschooled
unheard
through spent thoughts
of love
complications in
a jagged code of conduct
Toxic infusion
a mate's cactus grin
desert prickly
an "I do" wasteland
Banter
burly
bitter
black icing on a wedding cake
ditched
shifting possibility
soon enough I discovered
her neighbor calls him Caspar or Caspor
but it wasn't long
before I named him Auguste
he has claimed my love's apartment—
even hypnotized her to have ready
water and treats on one corner
but what impressed us most,
the first time he laid eyes on me,
he started rolling over and over me
on the loveseat
thus, he has seduced us entirely
every time he prances down the hall,
when the back door has been left slightly ajar,
our eyes light up—each hoping to be the one
he'll first approach for petting
~
It’s the seemingly endless five minute walk up the lightly graveled, manure filled drive, dodging the expired cow patties, led by the dim light of the reflection of the moon on the thin tattered blanket of snow.
It’s the smell of livestock resting on the hills in the distance, which burns the interior of my dry frozen nostrils. The elated barks of my furry companions pierce the cold silence as they wait for my arrival with sopping, wet tongues in the smoke filled house of broken families past.
It’s the aged, exhausted face that waits at the door, instantly brightened, energized by my reckless youthfulness. We sit in our self sabotage on a very tattered loveseat, in bizarre contentment with smiling hearts, a cup of warm chamomile balanced by slippered feet. The faint hum of a ukulele, the TV waiting for a command, as it plays the remains of a long expired program that was prompted by the other.
It’s the feeling I have when I drink that cup of hot tea. The way my heart feels in a certain presence of another. The eagerness to get to the top of the snow covered driveway to this place I call home.
Of Beauty,
All I know is that it varies proportionally to the label on your jeans.
Of Physics,
All I know is I get up in the morning and fall down at night.
Of History,
All I know is what I can't see anymore is past, and what I'm afraid to see is future.
Of Music,
All I know is one man's Bach is another man's Zeppelin.
Of Stability,
All I know is that it's unstable.
Of Humor,
All I know is that it makes us realize what idiots we really are.
Of Economy,
All I know is that it's like a lobotomy.
Of Adolescence,
All I know is that it caused my parents to lose all of their brains.
Of Maturity,
All I know is that somehow my parents found them again, probably under the loveseat or something.
Of Cars,
All I know is that my stereo works.
Of Marriage,
All I know is that it's something my friends do occasionally.
Of Divorce,
All I know is that I could lose more than everything.
(1986)
Sitting in my rocking chair
I feel myself relax,
A quality that every couch
Or stool or loveseat lacks.
The gentle back and forth harks back
To infancy, perhaps,
When we were rocked while being fed
In moms' and daddies' laps.
No matter what the reason
There is nothing to compare
To an hour spent unwinding
In my comfy rocking chair.
There on the loveseat sat a Giant Grouper
Right beside him a Red Snapper
Well, the giant wasn't a giant
Sitting isn't correct either for they were fighting
Of all things over the remote
The Giant Grouper wanted to see Captain D's commerical
Red Snapper wanted to see Sponge Bob
They were out of their element
Gasping for air
Well, I was in my element
I put them in their place back in the ocean
Well, not a real ocean but a fish tank
I told them don't mess with me in my element
I got the remote and found MY movie_
The moral of this story is don't mess with momma
For when momma is unhappy everyone is unhappy
Just for fun..Free Verse ..Prose..Prose Poetry(no I don't think so)
UNSPOKEN MIND
I woke up
Still sitting on a loveseat
Dreaming in the songs of a loverbird
And in the re-incarnation of the days
When love letters make the network busy
When it seems like a love loin
Thus bringing love sick
In the making of a match with loveliness
Many days i remembered
When the feeling goes like time
Seemingly as if it was a bottomless pit
I saw a heavy laden, unspoken words
Until my eyes saw from the rupton of a whirl wind
That which roars in the great forest
The only one that keep the two warms
Always, whenever, wherever and whatever
I woke up still,
A rising rose i saw drenching me lightly
By trees and water the loveseat waits
For wanderers' chance meeting there
The outcomes will be the choice of fates
As stories repeat in spring air
We left the bench shaded by flower pots fair
Round the loveseat the white trilliums bloom
On rocks, in swamps, each face a star
They fear not storms’ nor winter’s dark gloom
No weak rose, they surmount forests' scars
Spring's galaxy blooms in my sweet home so far
Written February 7th for the poetry contest english quintain a spring day
Fight each fight. Find the joy in stabbing the heart of another nieve friend. No way
out for me now;my memory knows to shut the door while my heart waits and
cries hoping you want back in.
In only a dream I can look you in the eye and feel only your selfish hand drawing
me near. As you start to ask how I've been I will casually answer without regrets
or a tear.
But for now,I will wait comfortably by a drafty window in my loveseat most would
simply call a chair. Hoping you will let me know you will not be by in a phonecall
so it would be easier to pretend you care.
A moment of awakenment I can only dream to find.My feelings up until now
have been so fickle even to those, unlike you,were kind.
So fight each fight. deal with your feelings,your temper, or your past. I do hope
one day you win. For recreation,look me in the eye, and stab me with that hollow
gaze, so my bloodshot eyes can see you smile because I keep giving in.
This is my Hell
Frigid and frozen
No furnaces to light my way
A dark, drab den
One half of this lonely loveseat
I occupy incessantly
Join me for a jump into this
Quiet quarantine
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