Poetry PROPER
appeals
to
the ear,
a euphony
a voice
the medium
spoken
intuitively
the
intonation
a
matter
of sound
making sense
through
pitch
with
stress
the "pause"
unique
one off
speech
to ear
'as is'
arrested
pause
unique
to the mood
of both
voice to ear
VICTIMS OF THE HEART
I hate love and it hates me, but I didn't start this fight. I went in with the best of intentions, and was given every slight.
Love don't fight fair, and it don't care, for the damage left behind. Time and again, haunting woman and man, it's not the love that's blind.
The dice are loaded, the deck is stacked, and all of the faces poker. One off the top, the queen of hearts, once again I'm dealt the joker.
This love despair has no creed, who knows where they fit. changing rules, different needs, dating apps, and TikTok feeds, enough to make you quit.
I yearn for love and solitude, both in equal parts. Love is sadistic and altruistic, we're just victims of the heart.
Pens... pens... pens.
I simply cannot have enough!
I sometimes pinch one off my dad
To write my first drafts rough.
Without stationary,
Where would we poets be?
A creators bliss is to settle down
With pen, paper and tea.
Tick tock, tick tock
If I don't get help I'm going to drop
Tick tock, tick tock
Sleep deprivation is a ticking clock
Tick tock, tick tock
My body's about to go into shock
Tick tock, tick tock
My mind has hit a massive road block
Tick tock, tick tock
All I hear is knock knock knock
Tick tock, tick tock
All I'm doing is watching the clock
Can't sleep, can't eat
Can't sit still in my moulded seat
Can't concentrate, brain turned off
I hope this breakdown is a one off
Figures moving, I am scared
Can't lift my legs to go down the stairs
Voices talking, their so loud
It's like I'm standing in a crowd
Want to die but want to live
Undecided if I'll survive
Tick tock, tick tock
There it is that damn clock
Turn it off, it needs to end
I take back all iv said
Tick tock, tick tock
All I hear is knock knock knock
Time to end or time to begin
I have to find the strength within
Tick tock, tick tock
It's my mind I need to lock
Tick tock, tick tock
Tick tock, tick tock
Tick tock, tick tock
It's the end, iv smashed the clock
Diode or anode
Are they enough to remove negative thinking?
Transistor or adviser
Which is best to help one off sinking?
Banister to guide
Yet the hyperactive will still jump it over
Canister to hide
Though expiratory date will not hangover
Resistor or an adjuster
The behavioural disorder are hardly bewitched in rehabilitation
Capacitor or curator
The world remains to all a pleasant habitation
Awe & shock bowlers in the dock our warlock & glock “the judge”
Rapscallion and stallion wrangling with dangling golden medallion
Facing the pacing battalion on our latest sinking Caribbean galleon
Our burly oracle with each follicle so curly a rock that won't budge
In that 90’s dungeon Robin our classy curmudgeon brassy bludgeon
Truncheon fine dining on a hurly burly Courtenay & Curtly luncheon
Calms alarms and qualms delivers us from harm with stoic heroic psalms
Call to arms more like baobabs than palms those offside charms “the Judge”
Speedsters scary & lairy others wary prime time for our hairy chest fairy
Robin our pace Pontiff willow ace not a whiff or a riff or sniff of what if
Believers in his jobbing levers will go biff in any tiff that's the pith of Smith
Not just a county squire but quite possibly the ultimate Hampshire Sire
Calling card hit it so hard earned the fable label of both BATman & Robin
Hall of fame name can’t smudge hats doff to a complete one off “the Judge”
Anna found herself writing this to Marcus for a reply.
Dearest Marcus Sire
I find myself penning this letter to you.
I know why.
From ever since I can remember looking back,
it wasn’t a happy childhood,
Verbal, physical and mental abuse.
It wasn’t a one off it was consistent.
It wasn’t just one person was it; it was the whole family.
I don’t know how I survived that abuse.
Yet I will never forgive them.
They used me as a servant.
Closing all doors for me.
I’ll bide my time I used to think.
No one would believe the damage they did to me.
Now that I left them, they still try to follow me and I ignore them.
I pretend that I care.
Them with your problems of the world doing it to them.
They thought no one will spread the word of what they were.
Mum and dad and family.
Now I spend my time laughing at you.
Wouldn’t help you if you were in deepest hell.
Today I Find joy in the smallest things.
There’s hope, yes there is.
Waiting for your reply.
On the last ring of the phone
Just around the corner, but unknown
A night spent apart, alone
As a mourner for the lorn
A dozen roses for another hectic day
On Valentine's day one never supposes
The reason for being fashionably late
In the movies, in the seats
One on, and one off the train
(As the background music begins to play)
One on each side of the door
with words, but none we say
The crescendo then the scene segue
I'm Astaire, Gable, Grant and Kong
To your Ginger, Marilyn, Audrey and Fay
I'll see you at home tonight, don't be long
We just missed each other today
Three women with umbrellas were waiting for this train.
To get on or for someone to get off? I am yet to know.
I lost track of them after the people disembarked.
Looking for my husband, who would not have an umbrella.
My umbrella was at home, I was not expecting this dreary night.
My man would not be the first one off, closer to the last.
I knew from experience, he avoided the crowds.
My smile was wide when I saw his excited look of recognition.
The wind felt
Catching one off guard
Sometimes refresh
Other times bad and good
The wave backward and forward of trees
The view of the ocean as the waves maneuver
Breezes front and center
Embrace
North to South
East to West
Breezes with their own confess
Outward blow
Some fast and suddenly slow
One never knows
Handy work Heaven
Breezy Point
Breathing in and out
The breeze moving about.
Humble home, or palace known? Scenes
Pass.. somewhere is the tick of clocks; or beat of
Metronome? The rhythm of possibility’s a
Crashing of waves. Some false? much information! we journey through such days.' Endemic plan-demic were you killer? Or
Culler? answers beget questions; each bounce one off the other.' Amidst great
Hunger for peace! Yet much war is feasting on' oh how
The bloodthirsty simper. Their patience is
Strong.' Strong as a kingdom spanning our
Earth.' Yet to be broken.' Upon the coming
New birth ' His agents right now communing' these very
Spiritual hours ' incessantly requesting more wisdom more power.' His angels are
Active many deployed now on earth' legions in heaven move to restrict satanic
Girth.' The wall of eternity grows increasingly thin.' Soon comes Gods Kingdom and the death of all sin'
©Joe Maverick 25/4/2025
Minimalist Donald Judd
from whom simplicity did flood
Letting the surrounds have their say
three dimensional art his forte
From installationist Allan Kaprow
ethereal happenings did flow
One-off activities non·par·eil
living art so surreal
Cockleburs on his chin, cockleburs between his toes
He has been where the dreaded cockleburs grow.
Cockleburs on his head, neck, butt, and his dog tail.
Cockleburs are prickly, stickery, and sometimes hard as a nail.
Why do you go where the cockleburs live?
I try hard to get one off, but it does not want to give.
I end up with thorns in my fingers, and they hurt and one bleeds.
So where is my dog now? Rolling around back in cocklebur weeds.
A one-off was Barnett Newman
spectral closeness was his plan
He created the art of the zip*
two colours in a mural clip
*see www.poetrysoup.com/poem/declarative_unit_newman_zip_1675988
First fruits brought to the Temple were not a one-off affair
They were first brought on the Pentecost right up to the New Year
Farmers, each with his own basket, formed a lively parade
Singing songs of praise while a flautist merrily played
The artisans of Jerusalem met them at the city’s gate
Welcoming those who put delicious fruits on their plate
Then the King himself placed a basket of fruit onto his shoulder
Joining the parade as a humble stakeholder
The ceremony of the First Fruits, a new beginning for us all
Glory to God for the miracle of fruit, inside the Holy Temple’s walls
_______________________________________________________
The first fruits for which the Land of Israel is blessed - wheat, barley,
grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates - can be brought each
year from Shavuos/Pentecost (late May or June to Rosh Hashana/New
Year (Sept. or early October).
This is part of the Torah portion read this Saturday in synagogues
world over. See Deteronomy 26: 1-15
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