I take a word and tear it apart
carwash
car jumps off the page and drives off
wash nabs ing and makes it stay
I add machine to washing
washing machine, an old-fashioned term
does anyone use it anymore?
Or is it like mathematics, reduced forever to math?
Bubbles fill up the laundry room
Bubba does a cartwheel as the bubbles dissipate
cart and wheel, I split them up too
Now they remind me of a prairie schooner not a gymnast’s trick
Bubba gloats a bit because he added the A himself after splitting from les
Words are stubborn, opinionated, they have their own ways and means
I stand back, watching in awe, wondering what their next move will be.
A slave of words.
Dream leaf “fall” usher
motley hue cascade unfurls
dull gray sky gaunt sun
mud strewn pockmark on limp moss,
wet nabs ripe fruit orchard splurge
Moonlit gemstone reach
lunar auspice chill whisper
green hewn splintered twig
earthbound autumn wild pageant
scaly branches in a heap
Dark cobalt clouds float
city folk’s shivering gaze
market stalls thriving
the whiff of laden soup bowls
coffee dock ice drop buffer
Deep coal fire aglow
shelter from harsh weather gust
frozen nostrils twitch
as they plough the fertile patch
in league with season bounty
Dream leaf “fall” usher
motley hue cascade unfurled
dull grey sky gaunt sun
mud strewn pockmarks on limp moss
wet nabs ripe fruit orchard splurge
Notable new note
Nabs nature's near net,
Nurturing nice NIPPER.
A sketch of cimarron
shades: an appollyon emerges,
her spectre arms reach
like the charcoal bones
of the wild, the webbed trees.
Their silhouette absorbed
into the night clasp
the edge of the curved
slice of moon, cocaine
colored and as potent.
For ancient stories are spun
within its orbit.
It is a black and
white rock that once had oceans,
the orb created
by a long ago
planet colliding with Earth.
A diabolical
world pushes against
our mortal microcosm, in which
molded flesh is a cloak
shaped to kill, and shed.
Stripped of this armour, we meld
into death, a viscous
void of the sublime
intense beating, of puissance,
zoetic. Tincture
of a collapsed white
dwarf, the distant plum red throb
that emits heat, burns.
Earthly demon world
nabs; chalk rubbed into pores.
Human colors drown.
Never let me go, my Creator-Saviour…
…now that I’m Your named child, grace-in-need;
Nestle my heart within Your love’s nostril
Nail me in Your nearness as to You I draw nigh.
Never let me go, Omnipotent Lord…
…neither allow me succumb to bad new's noise;
Nurture my soul with spiritual nobility
Nourish me midst negligence-naughtiness.
Never let me go, my Guardian Friend…
…no, not in my necessities;
Navigate my neck’s diligence-numbness at night
Notify me midst nuances of doubt-nays’ net.
Never let me go, my Divine Leader…
…nowhere when nastiness negates my nod
Nudge my faith from novice nettles
Negotiate for me against sinfulness-nadir nabs.
Never let me go, my Almighty God…
…nor loosen me toward numberless pride-notches from Your nest;
Note my nakedness as without You I’m nothing*
Nurse me by Your divine nature, nonetheless necessary.
*John 15:5 I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.
March 26, 2019
2nd place, "Pick A Title, Vol.3 Alliteration" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 4/24/2019.
Villanelle: How much is how near enough and yet not much
How much is how near enough and yet not much
The measure of the cup is what the hand grabs
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch
Some take more than what is their share in one clutch
Most really take what comes trickling down for grabs
How much is how near enough and yet not much
Many such grow up never knowing what is much
Nor how the rich few make an art out of nabs
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch
Most make up the legions who for others march
Those who run the State run it for magnate flabs
How much is how near enough and yet not much
Big fish eat shoals of small fish all in one munch
And the bigger they get all the smaller nags
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch
Yet everyone wants to dangle from the high hatch
E’en when there’s nothing much the Nation brags
How much is how near enough and yet not much
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch
(C) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Their eyes move in rhythm of the housefly flight
Up and loop, straight and back, down and around
Snap! Snap! Snap!
Eager bites for the winged vermin of flight
Tails wagging, bodies bouncing a dance in air
Grasping to catch what is no longer there
Two little doggies on a hunt
Two little doggies on a quest
They want to devour that flying pest
The housefly dive bombs around their heads
They bite and snap and bump and bounce
Jumping to catch the elusive prey
The housefly just buzzes away away
Two pairs of eyes are glued on his hide
Watching where ever the housefly flies
Like radar their ears are perked up
But away away he flies and flies
Then he turns into the window
Buzzing fiercely at the outside sky
But two little doggies triumphantly jump on the couch
And the housefly is trapped between glass and two snouts
First Kublai snatches the housefly in his mouth
His buzzing makes Kublai spit him out
Genghis licks up the fly but cannot swallow
Kublai nabs him and smacks and smacks
Genghis licks Kublai mouth
But the housefly has been devoured
Their eyes slither and slide
Watching another housefly buzz by
Growing up no independence
Restricted by my mom's time limit
Forced to go to school
Because they said education would be my greatest tool
"I can't wait to be an adult"
Riding that bus with all that fuss
Praying God please let them hush
Everyone making choices for me
Telling me I'm to young for some things to see
"I can't wait to be an adult"
Working all day for nabs and a bottle of coke as my pay
One of these day I'll be a millionaire I use to say
I'll do what I want and do it my way
And dare anybody to have something to say
"I can't wait to be an adult"
Now I'm a adult
My mom tried to warn me about this cult
Now I have my independence
Though my student loan debt is longer than a life sentence
"I wish I could go back to the life I use to hate"
I do what I want and do it my way
Yet people still have something to say
I have my own car
But without gas money I can only go but so far
"I wish I could go back to the life I use to hate"
No worries no bills
Just fun time filled with thrills
I'd give anything to go back to the life I use to hate
For little did I know that life was pretty great
Four treats in the doggy bowl
Four treats laying still
Each equal in proportion
Each tail wagging swell
Two dogs walk together
Up to sniff the treats
Enough for both to share
Enough for both to eat
Genghis grabs one
Briskly trots away
Kublia has hurt eyes
Three treats left to stay
Kublia stares stares stares
Licking his doggy lips
Genghis gnaws and naws
Savoring every chewy bit
Genghis lifts his head to smile
Kublia dashes in
Genghis never saw him on the prowl
Kublia stole from his little friend
Kublia in tasty triumph
Chews the treat for awhile
Genghis with hurt expression
Softly hear him growl
Kublia gets some water
Leaves the treat on the floor
Genghis nabs it
Running out the door
Three treats are forgotten
Three treats laying in the bowl
One treat between two dogs
Taking turns to be stole
Two dogs sitting quietly
Genghis looking sad
Kublia swallowed the last bite
Laughing cause he's bad
Three Treats in the doggy bowl
Three treats laying still
Each equal in proportion
Each tail wagging swell....
1.
Kathleen
Firehaired love of my life;
She's almost all Cab, with a dash of Shiraz spice.
A deep and complicated, earthy wife
A ruby sparkle in the looking glass
Long on my vision, soft and nice
The All-of-Her bouquet, I cannot pass.
2.
Susan
She may prefer to drink her Cabs,
But the red-maned lioness is pure Bourdeaux.
Her brightness fills a room, and quickly nabs
Away all weak indifference.
The complexity of her shines and glows;
The product of some special provenance.
These ladies make my life divine,
An perfect medly of song and wine.
They may well land on the "NO FLY" List,
For being such charming Terroirists.
Maverick(Vers libre)
Life for me was vain, trying to get gain
In Peterbilt truck, I’ve had the worst luck
Driving in deep snow, bad tempers do show
Praying the roads clear, very hard to steer
Having a tire low, over heats will blows
Many trips are lame, and bosses the same
A trucker’s great fame, stress his middle name
While grinding those gears, on roads never clear
Stresses with no rest, on gear jam express
Old Smoky bear nabs, on the super slabs
Eighteen wheels rolling, not night of bowling
Super slabs tolling, companies folding
Idea of toll roads, trucks carry whole load
No other reason, government’s treason
You want-a see stress, special men/women pass test
It’s concrete jungle, no room for bungle
Life isn’t breezy, for Joe made easy
His loads are made late, from stops at toll gate
`Tis vicious cycle, bless angel Michael
I drove in my sleep, loads on time to keep!!!!
"Dedicated to Joe Dietrich, also a Truck Driver"
For and in Honor of Carolyn Devonshire
And Contest: March Madness
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