I had a dream.
I don’t remember most dreams.
I was cleaning the floors of heaven.
It seemed a mixed blessing,
I was in heaven, after all
but I was cleaning the floors.
It was a part time job,
I knew that intuitively.
I don’t mind house cleaning,
heaven cleaning.
It’s calm work, kind of Zen.
Are we supposed to think of religions in heaven?
At first I scrubbed on my hands and knees.
The floors are soft in heaven, like golden gym mats.
Then I thought of it, and suddenly I had a swiffer-wet mop,
just like that - and the pad never wore out.
After a while, I had an iPod, and AirPods too.
Then a daiquiri - a banana daiquiri with a pastel rainbow umbrella.
They make rapturous daiquiris in the hereafter - they never run out.
‘Heavenly,’ I thought, snorting out a dizzy laugh.
.
.
Songs for this:
The River of Dreams Billy Joel
If the Lord Wasn't Walking By My Side by Elvis Presley
Categories:
martini, dream, extended metaphor, fun,
Form: Free verse
GOTHICISTA
perceptible
& transcendental
contra
distinctive
votives
neo realistic
fundamentals
in
fabulous
detail
of the sophisticated
refined& elegant
panoramas
Categories:
martini, art,
Form: Didactic
Snow and ice can be very nice
When you're cozy and warm with a friend
Looking out from a nook with a guitar and a book
Of old songs that at one time you penned
You took poetry and put it in key
The words came alive on that day
Now they fit like a glove, these old ballads you love
And with her now you share the bouquet
Categories:
martini, flower, for her, i
Form: Rhyme
Men fly The War-Plane of Mutiny
By querying their Destiny
And fly The Very Flag of Mutiny
When Destiny they mock with scrutiny
Vowing to no more drink Martini
Nor in other coolers harbor any tinny
Just like Britain can’t erase her felony
When Nigeria was her colony
One can’t A World of Monotony
Through ceaseless appearance in a ceremony!
Into it I read a mutiny
And a rebellion against Destiny
A Can-Never-Stop Glutton
Checking quarrels with his shirt button
Or a Decreed life of Celibacy
Fighting this with Ecstasy
Or even with The Slowest Immediacy …
Against Foreordained Destiny
We unwisely mutiny
With our Wise Scrutiny.
Categories:
martini, adventure, anxiety, faith, people,
Form: Rhyme
LooK at mY CAT
And he licKs
I caN't fiX
With a tiP oF my HAT
Or a CrucifiX
CandlestickS CandlestickS
DaRe I flick at the wicK
With a prettY PrettY stick
Or my finger tiP
LikE a TricK
Oh so QuicK
WithOut TemPuRR OnlY RAGE
ThaT mY CAT
YoU KnOw mY CAT
CamE Screaming from HIS Cage
From his Cage to his StAgE
I could WAGE
or disengage
EiTHER oR
I cannot say
Can I Say???
I cannot say
So — I
TiP aNd I toE
I tippY tippY toE
I tiP tiP toE
PrettY HappY TippY TOE
'CuZ mY CAT
You kNoW mY CAT
My SuPeR Trippy CAT
ScAred oF ALL
Ten FeeT Tall
ShAdoWs DANCING oN thE waLL
On thE waLL
PorcelaiN DollS
"What'd I See?"
It's whAt I saw
ThAT mY CAT
YoU kNoW my CAT
WaS
- drippiNg
-- suGaR
--- from
---- His
----- paW!!!
Contest-- Voices.... by Silent One 12-08-2018
3rd place
Contest-- Wonderstruck by Robert James Ligouri 11-28-2021
Honorable Mention
Categories:
martini, crazy, imagination, silly,
Form: Rhyme
A Sophisticated Drink
It stood there on the table a litre bottle of martini stuff
made in a factory in Milan and has nothing to do with
proper wine. The workers are basely underpaid, when
they ask a rise the get served martini for breakfast-.
Or perhaps I´m wrong and it is in South Africa where
sober wine workers get fired because they are unionised
and do ask for a better wage. Martini is a cheap product
that has been given a great write up, a liquid of alcohol,
water and some good smelling herbs.
The mystery is not solved who had put the bottle on my
table? In a book by Somerset Morgan an ill willed woman
put a bottle of whisky by a vase of flowers for a woman
she didn´t like, to find. The disliked woman found and drank
the whisky- straight from the bottle. She now a tart in bars
sits on men´s lap for a drink, as the ambiguity continues,
like cigarette smoke inhaled and exhaled in a deep dream
of a smoker who has recently quit.
Categories:
martini, good morning, good night,
Form: Blank verse
PITCHERS OF MARTINI
A fond getaway
Where the A Major has never sounded better -
Beethoven’s Seventh, of course
with Szell, on reel –
The basement is musty, smoky and bachelor dirty
hosting two teachers on a Friday night
They sip
Laugh
Light up
Cut slivers of cheddar
Sip
Laugh
Drag
Then, playing conductor, perform horrendous
gyrations, herky-jerky like the first movement
Fun!
They sip
Laugh
Drag
Taste
Gyrate
And on
Till the pitcher is gone
Then another pitcher (forget the olives)
On and on
Until
Half the nine symphonies are played
Until
One or the other is drunk
The cat – Figaro – has been curled up on an arm chair
The din is ear-splitting!
At last Figaro rises
Stretches
Yawns
Pads slowly upstairs
Categories:
martini, celebration,
Form: Free verse
Sourtoe Martini
The newest trend in cocktails?
Severed human toes!
It’s the latest thing in the Yukon
Not that everybody knows
But now that the Wall Street Journal
Has given it some class
The Sourtoe martini
Is in every other glass
It started forty years ago
In the Yukon territory
Captain “River Rat” Stevenson
Likes to tell the story
He found a severed big toe
Preserved in a pickle jar
And rather than just throw it out
Thought he’d serve it at his bar
For this drink would show their macho
This drink would show their nerve
So he dropped it in a champagne glass
In a drink that he would serve
The rule of the Sourtoe
The toe must touch your lips
It’s not a drink you just chug down
It’s best taken in small sips
While it may sound unsanitary
The toes are pickled first for months
In medically approved alcohol
That the patron then confronts
You can order it any time you like
At the Sourdough Saloon
But you won’t find me at the bar
At least any time real soon
For I am not a drinker
Ask anyone who knows
For alcohol and I don’t mix
And I don’t kiss stranger’s toes
Mdailey 11/6/12
Categories:
martini, social, drink, time,
Form: Rhyme
Shaken, not stirred
Pour into tall angled glass...
Drop in olive orb.
(January 18, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Categories:
martini, food
Form: Senryu
Your secrets are safe with me
I promise to listen with my eyes alone
asking no questions…seeking no reasons
I too have stared into the early morning mist
not always alone…but always lonely
Confessions offered in total silence
trust given…without condition…trust taken
I know that your tears have fallen like rain
memories prevail…ties long ago undone
midnight passion forsaken for tomorrow’s laundry
Sunsets searching for dreams…sunrise searching for more
living as a stranger with the one who once knew all of you
walls that talk back…a partner who does not
memories of promises lost…dreams that will never be
watching you needing more than what you have
Pristine martini’s in polished glass
ice cold and strong…tomorrow’s warmth today
each sip a gentle reprieve
dreams being shaken...loneliness being stirred
the scent of your perfume that will linger forever
Last call forcing us to the streets we know
going home to someone we do not
unsaid words echo from invisible walls
lost strangers passing in the night
your secrets are safe with me
IRISH
Categories:
martini, friendship
Form: Free verse