Hearing of a sitting mouse is as rare as a sock without a hole.
But today we have a knitting mouse, an afghan is her goal.
She has already made one for a fox, a frog and a foal.
This one is for her crotchety great uncle named mean Joel.
Categories:
moue, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form: Monorhyme
Buttocks push; breasts boast
through non-existent crowds.
A choreographed squall
above the whir and clunk
of loaded appliances.
Hispanic girls acting out
in a Laundromat.
Hips gesture, hands stab
and tussle with unwashed issues.
I’m distracted by the overheated hum,
can’t read the print
of my paperback. Words run
naked over yellow pages
The girls are angry
but not with each other.
Skimpy shorts and gang-inks.
The porous waft of feral hormones
seethes over some slight,
branded onto a Facebook page.
They flop onto the slatted bench
produce a smart phone,
scroll through pictures,
moue and glower softening
as baby shots are thumbed.
Melting smiles, then
they hold up the cell for me to see.
we coo and smile together.
The they return to their world
and I to mine.
When they get up
the backs of their thighs
are marked by the wooden seat.
Washing spins on.
Categories:
moue, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Buttocks push; breasts boast
through non-existent crowds.
A choreographed squall
above the whir and clunk
of loaded appliances.
Hispanic girls acting out
in a Laundromat.
Hips gesture, hands stab
and tussle with unwashed issues.
I’m distracted by the overheated hum,
can’t read the print
of my paperback. Words run
naked over yellow pages,
sweat and lay down
under a fierce fluorescence.
Skimpy shorts and gang-inks.
The porous sound of feral hormones
seethes over some slight,
branded onto a Facebook page.
They flop onto the slatted bench
produce a smart phone,
scroll through pictures,
moue and glower softening
as baby shots are thumbed.
Melting smiles, then
they hold up the cell for me to see.
When they get up
the backs of their thighs
are marked by the wooden seat.
Washing spins on.
Categories:
moue, poetry,
Form: Free verse
another primaveral day dawning upon me
as i linger stir-crazy in the moments unfolding
in apoplectic thoughts within my mind
while watching the carelessness of others
my moue tightly tucked beneath my mask
hides my silent screams for more distance
famished it seems the world has become
beneath the burden of these bare shelves
one could feel starved of more than food
as they buckle to their knees in prayer
feeling like children to a lesser God
in this turbulence that has consumed us
we grasp the need to feel a closeness
a perigee to a fullness to fulfill the emptiness
yet we feel nothing as this greater distance remains
all we have is the hypermnesia of past moments
breaking through the darkness of mind
as we close our eyes just to see a glimmer of light
in hopes that tomorrow breaks these chains
that weigh us down in heart and mind alike
April 7, 2020
Categories:
moue, anxiety, fear, god, prayer,
Form: Free verse
Buttocks push; breasts boast
through non-existent crowds.
A choreographed squall
above the whir and clunk
of loaded appliances.
Hispanic girls acting out
in a Laundromat.
Hips gesture, hands stab
and tussle with unwashed issues.
I’m distracted by the overheated hum,
can’t read the print
of my paperback. Words run
naked over yellow pages,
sweat and lay down
under a fierce fluorescence.
Skimpy shorts and gang-inks.
The porous sound of feral hormones
seethes over some slight,
branded onto a Facebook page.
They flop onto the slatted bench
produce a smart phone,
scroll through pictures,
moue and glower softening
as baby shots are thumbed.
Melting smiles, then
they hold up the cell for me to see.
When they get up
the backs of their thighs
are marked by the wooden seat.
Washing spins on.
Categories:
moue, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The disdain shown by her little moue
Pasted on her face was lots of woe
We gave her a wide berth
Because she had no mirth
As welcoming as a fractured toe.
Categories:
moue, humor,
Form: Limerick
He is a shy willow
with a moue of chagrin
hidden deeply within.
March weeps on his pillow,
he wilts like a swallow
immaculate of sin.
His dreams unfold in jade.
As wind disturbs a wreath
an arrow leaves the sheath.
Before the moon a shade,
a silhouette unswayed
as stars does sky bequeath.
The swallow is reborn,
flying high til the morn.
Categories:
moue, imagery, metaphor,
Form: Rhyme