A breath soft cinnamon is early
S p r i n g
not perceived at any other time of year
when two tweeny caterpillars cling dear
to one dandelion stalk sublime —
Shy LimeLight of green opens its legs
across yellow field — no scientist can
capture such subtle sheen
daisy clean
Heart feels its mighty loom alright …
It waits tentative as pink buds peep
from cacti who were in soundless
S l e e p —
Acacia stops shedding bare brown
splints — fresh mint bleeping
Noon arrives sooner sprinkling spritely
misty loss as Winter N o r t h w a r d
farewells
goodbye to woollen socks —
lullabies fade beneath mustard mohair docks
…
Southern Spring bells with clocks
C h a n t i n g
Chiming unlock
Mutant metronome’s
stygian riddle
inscrutable fixation
spuming
clustered clairvoyance
honing snoopy
quest querulous
quicquidlibet
tamper connived
sinewy stratagem
plimsoll plot
“sneaker” of
wily webfooted
nefarious nudge
at
tenebrific toll
maple smoke
screen screed
clandestine
cobwebs cohere
mohair marinated
muddle
subdued thespian
herringbone hoodwink
skewed camouflage
perused pearl
inveigling
skulduggery rife
underscored cadence
persuasive
percussive rattle
ubiquitous underbelly
prop to
dodgy dialogue
muted ritardando
silhouette streak
dangling magnet
mired in
gauche guesswork
subterfuge sciophobia
inkpot
amorphous machination
fiction wizards
emblazon
indices incipient
embryo empiricism
mouldering
cabinet coterie
spookish svengali
minatorial
repercussions
incurvate
sniffer dog
detective
poirrot’s prognosis
clouseau contingency
that
rivetting mystery
we’ve had sheep not as wooly as our dog
it’s in our carpet, thick as a log
we wade through his hair every day
kicking tufts of it out of our way
it is on the couch, floating in the air
I’d like to knit it into a blanket, mohair
Bagging it would be hard to do
it floats all over, wild as my hairdo
[Poet’s Note : this is a wry autobiographical memory written in traditional pirouette verse viz. 2 quintains, line 5 & 6 repeat, which is the toe turnaround. I wanted to write a narrative of a weird syncopated vignette, when I was knitting a pink mohair jersey at the time of my imprisonment. I reduced the narrative to a pirouette. When in prison, one of my interrogators was knitting the EXACT jersey in the exact colour & exact wool ! ie. in the final analysis, (in retrospect) everything in human life can be reduced to a pirouette, a turn-around dance ! ]
knitting a pink jersey
mohair with cables fine
to process flying thoughts
political activist
south africa turmoiled
south africa turmoiled
security police
came with casspirs and cuffs
interrogation chamber
police knit jersey pink
~~~~~~~~~
My Sunshine shines on my mohair suit, flickering explosions of perfect light
Heels a clicking causing small sparks on the cobbled streets.
Shirt and blazer so sharp and neat, a clean white cover on my scooter seat
A cufflink clinks on a cold wine glass, and I look at the refection in the glass.
A record cover lays around, with a target and a guitar sound
Heels and boots lay all around, white powders, pills its ultra sound!!
Parkas fitted over suits, weather shielded overtones
The road to Brighton glides downhill, Love reign on me!!!
Its the end of summer and the flowers are readying for fall
guess its just September's way of putting in her hooting call
London trees are sighing and the city folks are buying mohair
the sun is raying softer shades as we put away our lawn chairs
Writers tuck their hats and trade their benches for a cozy home
poetizing about Italian memories they pen about a trip to Rome
Here he comes Mr. freezie by morning, Mrs. warm by afternoon
I really did enjoy this happy summer but I think it left too soon
its the end of summer and the flowers are finally waving goodbye,
funny how people cling more to life, when their making ready to die.
"Electric Boobs and Mohair Shoes"
Furry feet
slide across your
shiny floors
smiling cheshire teeth
incandescent
electric boobs and jets
there you sit
blown away... again,
kitty winked
a bachelor
forensically
degreed
brain open
not yet spent
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
“Benny & the Jets”, Elton
https://youtu.be/V5zFpctrgjs
“It’s always the last poem…”
Anonymous
"Last call Minsky's...
Piano Bar, Freedom Keys..."
Anonymous
1. Cheshire Cat.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheshire_Cat
2. Lewis Carroll
2a.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lewis_Carroll
2.b
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/lewis-carrolls-shifting-reputation-9432378/
3. Lorena Liddell
https://news.artnet.com/art-world/was-lewis-carroll-a-pedophile-his-photographs-suggest-so-237222
4. Alice Liddell
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Liddell
5. Minskys Piano Bar.
6. Forensic.
7. Another Story. x 2, plural.
8. Orderly...Street. Lewis.
We humans seem concerned that we must die
Yet complain we cannot sleep with shuttered eyes
Stay awake and let the mind roam free
Invent new recipes, enjoy some tea
Feel the peace of darkness and the bed
Tell off fishes swimming in your head
Get up and clean the kitchen of its grease
Check your records if you have a lease
Knit a mohair hat for winter time
Wash a scarf and hang it on the line
Change the printer ink before it dries
Volunteer to work for M I 5
Unwillingly admit we can’t control
The night and day, the journey and its goal
A WELCOMING AUTUMN ARRIVES AT OUR DOORSTEP BRINGING AN ARMLOAD OF COLORS RICH AND BRIGHT. THE MYSTIFYING COLORS OF THE SUN GIVES WAY TO THE RUSSET LEAVES OF BEAUTY AS WE SPOT THE SUNLIGHT TINGED WITH COPPER BLOND AND BURGUNDY. GO AHEAD, WELCOME THE SEASON.(BREATHE)
WE FEEL THE BREEZE AS IT TOUCHES OUR CHEEK AND SINGS THROUGH OUR HAIR WITH SONGS OF AFFECTION. FALL, ITS THE PASSAGE OF TIME THAT ACTS LIKE A WARM BUFFER. A PRELUDE TO BRIGHT WINTER DAYS. (BREATHE)
DANCE IN THE LEAVES AND HUG THE BEAUTIFUL BARING TREES. THEY
LONG FOR YOUR WARM ARMS AND YOUR HUGGABLE FRAME. TRUST IN THE ADVENTURE THAT GOD'S HAS PREPARED. WALK THROUGH THE GENTLE PATH AND HUM A TUNE TO THE LITTLE SQUIRRELS AS THEY HAPPILY CLIMB, THEN SCURRY THIS WAY AND THAT (BREATHE)
FEEL THE SNUG SENSATION OF MOHAIR CLOTHING AND CHURCH YOUR
THOUGHTS ON BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES THAT TAKE YOUR BREATH AWAY
AUTUMN IS A TIME TO RESTORE YOUR ENERGIES AND HELP YOUR BODY FIND EQUALITY AND BALANCE.
A WELCOMING AUTUMN ARRIVES AT YOUR DOORSTEP, DEAR AND PRECIOUS AS YOUR OWN HEART. BE AWARE OF THE SEASON , GIVE YOURSELF A REASON TO GO OUT AND ENJOY THE CHANGES OF LIFE AND SEASON.(BREATHE)
Dreaming
Mohair goats to make yarn.
40 acres and a barn.
Trees, grass and flowers,
there is… nearly heaven here.
It is a place, we dream about.
I want to take you there.
We can ranch, and farm,
and there will be no alarm.
Just… peace and serenity.
Drive out all that is bad,
take in all that is good.
Give back all that we…
can spare!
The eagle’s nest, yet better still.
A place where only He…
has His WILL…!
God’s country, it is for me.
God’s country, it is for thee.
Come with me Cowboy,
under the star,
let’s begin a new life,
away…and a far…
Eagles Nest is a reference to a giant lot of ten acres on top of a mountain.
That is where the giant birds fly out from, each morning.
Pierre was a billionaire living in BelAir
A most successful concessionaire
Handsomely suave and debonair
Loved reading excerpts from Voltaire
Played for hours games of solitaire
His favourite lair was in a cozy wingback chair
Savouring his Earl Grey with chocolate éclair
Loved to travel just about anywhere
His wife accused him of having an affair
With a stewardess high in the air
Turned out it was she dating a commissionaire
Though every night she said a little prayer
She got caught with her derrière in midair
Quite unaware of her disheveled hair
And how deep she fell in her own snare
Totally no panache or an ounce of flair
She thought life to her had been unfair
Since Pierre’s money she’d not get a share
It would all be left to an heir
One whose loyalty did not compare
Pierre’s cuddly pet, his rare mohair bear
On this fine day I do declare
Liars and cheaters do beware
Play your games if you dare
But if I have my way I swear
You’ll only inherit your fair share of despair
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Promenading along Ashley Street,
wearing Jumbo Rollers covered with
pretty floral sheer scarfs,
chattering, giggling, being thirteen,
trying to pass for sixteen,
hoping the boys in their bat-winged cars
would wave and holler and make a big deal,
as soon as they caught our eyes,
we'd pretend to ignore them while our
shoulders pulled back, heads held high,
and our mohair sweatered chests protruding
for all the world to see.
If a car stopped our hearts skipped a beat,
we'd lose our composure and act very young,
running to the neighborhood soda shop
where we'd find "protection," someone's
older brother who was sipping Coke and eating
French fries with his date while the Jukebox
tunes were blasting, feet were tapping
and where Pinball Machines were ringing,
these were our soda shop memories of long ago.
Soon after I'd paid
My sixty
Or seventy pence,
I found myself
In what I thought
Was a miniature London.
I saw girls
In chandelier earrings,
In stiletto heels,
Wearing evening
Dresses,
Which contrasted with
The bizarre
Hair colours
They favoured:
Jet black
Or bleach blonde,
With flashes of
Red, Purple
Or green.
Some wore large
Bow ties,
Others unceremoniously
Hanged
Their school ties
Round their
Necks.
Eye make-up
Was exaggerated.
The boys all had
Short hair,
Wore mohair sweaters,
Thin ties,
Baggy,
Peg-top trousers
And winklepicker shoes.
A band playing
Raw street rock
At a frantic speed
Came to a sudden,
Violent climax...
Melodic, rhythmic,
Highly dancable
Soul music
Was now beginning
To fill the hall,
With another group
Of short-haired youths...
Smoother, more elegant,
Less menacing
Than the previous ones.
These well-dressed
Street boys
Wore well-pressed pegs
Of red or blue...
They pirouetted
And posed...
Pirouetted and posed.
"Wicked Cahoots" and "The Woodville Hall Soul Boys" stem from stories written in the late 1970s; while they first saw the light of day in versified form in 2006.)
So seamless an entity is he.
sleek before the crowd
bullet proof
tempered hard
steel
determination loud
Urban warrior
lean before the mass
tackle business
evenly
dodge before the crash
Suited armor
mohair gleam
woolen effigy
strained vessels
temples red
Imbibes with glee at noon
Not enough to win
the day
ore brethren in the clinch
they must lose
fall away
to rise another inch.
mohair grips
as certainty slips
away beneath the covers
blanket
heavy as sleep
recedes
sinewed lovers
breath
escapes blush lips
sense
fingertips
hush
touch lingers
caressing
fingers
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