more often than not, a knightly surge
combs a pawn me,
especially after the stroke of midnight, when
hermetically sealed in my rookery,
where bats in the belfry
flap their wings at the speed
of sound times ten
thence, this king heads to his counting house
(which doubles asthma
Perkiomen Valley bishopric)
to economize on space,
especially during tax time
(as April fifteenth slowly approaches,
me heartbeat doth) quicken
though becalmed, when imbibing
idyllic, fantastic, and bucolic kingdom
Americana paintings courtesy, sans nomen
Percevel Rockwell, thus jitteriness pacified,
particularly speaking
on the telly phone with Ken
Burns, whose trademark documentaries,
particularly War between the States,
where even roosting hen
got into the frayed scrimmage vis a vis, even
chilly being egged on to surrender as Ben
a fit to this American
Civil War Yankee incarnate,
whose doodling word
ya probably don't give a hoot -Amen!
In poetry world,
What a fathom I heard tonight?
I moved my head around to see
What is it? What does it mean? Who is that!?
Nobody around that lake and the river
The lake tenderly bosoms the river palm
I saw the moon and one star in the lake
Both nearby two tall trees in front of waterfall
Diamonds, shades of light gray, neat breeze,
And the co-acted cat with warm silky fur
Don't let your cat mew when you enter a girl's bedroom.
Mew Nexican Might
This might not make sense
This isn’t even close to the end of my rope
This love might be lost in your rinse
Our presence is shattered as is remaining hope
Show me your strength
My callused queen
Show me your short ropes length
Tell me what those words even mean
Am I wishless?
Am I hopeless?
We are lost causes,
We are indifference. We are lovelessness.
We are children of the plague.
We are nothing
Anymore.
end.
In her sheltered stone bed,
Peaceful at last,
Safe from the beat
Of forbidden loves,
She took her truth with her,
Joined her brothers and sisters
And let them cure
Her tortured, sad soul-
But her poems!
They are the other world!
The world where longing
And love lie together
The world where bitterness
Becomes sweetness-
So rememeber her!
Remember her and smile!
“Mew!”
There once was a cat from Peru.
That sat all day long whining, “Mew”
One day her master
With words did blast her.
So she ran away, “Mew.” Adieu.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 30, 2010
Poetic form: Limerick