There’s always soap
To kill the germs,
Remove the scum
And wash dead skin cells
Down the drain.
Is there hope
To kill the ‘worms’ inside?
Remove the scum and stay alive?
Clean the head, scrub brain cells:
And with one voice, scream, “We can learn!”
No time for Soap Operas,
No time for dopes.
No time for hang ups;
All hung up on soap-on-a-rope.
Just remove the scum already.
No time for silly fragrances
That cover up our stench and filthiness.
The time is now,
To clean up our act.
The time is now,
As a matter of fact.
The time is now
To take the plunge,
Get baptized!
Remove the scum!
And for goodness’ sake,
Please bathe, or at the very least,
Dance in a rain shower
With rainbows sparkling down
With full flower power.
And don’t be a numb skull,
use sume soap.
They say, “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.”
But I say, mispelling is not a sin
Nor are grammatical errors.
It’s just more proof
That I am ... only human.
I am not a robot,
Snowflake.
Hallmark?
sappy stories of rich or
upper middle-class people
starting businesses or
trying to save existing ones
handsome men and
beautiful women
newly divorced
or never married
modern versions of
daytime soap operas
you may not watch for a month
and not miss anything
good thing my wife has
a television in the guest room
downstairs I can watch
ANCIENT ALIENS!!!!!
Crimson carnations create chords of casual charm,
Happy hyacinths harmonise in their psychedelic hues,
Bright bubbles of hope in crusading sunset,
Soft sepia smiles sent down from the Shepherd above,
Burnished beams of bright sunrays ballet in between birches,
An emerald euphony of jasper jingles and obsidian operas,
Salmon welkin croons its crescendo as it turns indigo,
The warbling waves wind up in a waltz,
Evening falls softly in various shades of blue,
All's well with the world of woven wonders.
Lines taken from the following poems:
Serenading sunset
Moonstone melodies
Autumn leaves
Fiery sunset
In the shadow of sunlight
Chrysanthemum Hymns
Spring sonata
It started with a blank canvas
The lilt of lilac melodies
Haven of hope
I’m having dinner with some friends. Affectionately known as “The Dead”
Staring at their faces, glued firmly in all places.
Who do you think your foolin? Your halitosis say it all.
Exterior defying test of time. As your organs quickly die.
One more drink, and I’m leaving.
I’ve kept up appearances and the peace.
Don’t get up, I’ll see myself out.
Love and kisses to you all.
It’s been a slice of heaven.
But, Im afraid if I stay a minute longer
Your faces will begin melting, from the the candle operas warm glow
(“The Cave of Unknowing”, 2012, original oil)
As The World Burns
As the world turns
The morning soap operas play out
In print and film, song and dance
Showing on every screen
A world ablaze with fear
Disease, famine, war and rumors of war
Programming the programmable
While I sit in my room a cocoon
Surrounded by dogs
All sprawled out on chair and sofa and floor
Asleep at ease and peace
Filling the house
With their own therapeutic vibe
Beyond worry at least as long as they dream
While I watch and wait
Soothed by their dogged oblivion
As the world outside turns and burns
And I grow just a little more uncomfortable
Filling a delightful cocoon that I know
Must eventually open
Into a great unknown.
(12/11/24)
My mom, she, when I was just three,
Would binge operas of soaps, and she
Tethered to the television, after her sail
Home from Pearl Harbor, would not fail
To hug and kiss our butterfly eyes and cheeks.
She’d store mama’s milk in freeze for weeks.
As we’d march off to church crammed in car,
Mom saw her binge as a sin and went as far
As to stop watching all three, especially as
We’d call them Mama’s Soaps. Her new jazz
Is God and the bible, and her church friends.
Some have kids our age. On weekends
We’d go to explore the beach, but then
We all moved and Mama said Amen.
My brother, once said, Mom, you’re not old enough to
knit and crochet. She said, Then how do we learn to?
Rolling eyes…as at some point, she
Started writing, took up poetry.
Those rolling eyes and whys, recorded for posterity,
She reads to us one, two, three - her peculiarity.
Let me conjure some mystical moonstone melodies
A symphony of sapphire strains and ruby rhapsodies
A harmony of hessonite hymns and pearlescent praises
A litany of lapis lazuli lullabies and limestone lyrics
Amethyst anthems join in chorus with beryl ballads
Carbuncle canticles rise up along with diamond ditties
An emerald euphony of jasper jingles and obsidian operas
A magical mix of turquoise tunes and aquamarine arias
A playlist of peridot poetry and rainbow-garnet rhymes
A musical medley that mesmerizes with its magnificent sparkle
A gleaming, glittering gem of a song
Moonstone melodies that meet a Maestoso finale
Wick lit candles provided lead the path to the cemetery
Event that honor loved ones who have passed and are buried
La Catrina walks side by side with kindred spirits marching in sync
Crowns of chrysanthemum flowers of the month are pretty in pink
Offerings of sweet bread and mezcal, for the afterlife, plenty for all
Mexican Dia De Los Muertos, a family’s time for reflection
Eyeliner and charcoal shadow, skull-faced paint is our tradition
Nudging is “Fall-back” one hour—daylight savings time engages
Our Thanksgiving blessings for our annual harvest of ages
Veteran’s Day celebrated, bereaved ones in tears
Election Day on the first Tuesday of every four years
Mascarade balls, ballets, operas, and all that jazz
Birthstone rings sparkle with yellowish-orange topaz
Eleventh month, the Full Beaver Moon appears in Gemini
Rapturous is the moon in November’s blissful sky
He played the piano the way he did everything – incredibly well.
He’s a maestro, his mother told everyone who stopped by.
They did not doubt it, he was busy too, always composing.
Writing screenplays, creating operas and musicals.
When will he publish? Some of the noisier ones asked his mother.
That’s not important, she told them. That he is living with me is.
He lived with mama until her death, which delighted both of them.
His creations were genius, we discovered after his own crossing over.
Composer Giacomo Puccini
a master of musical repartee five
From a lineage of five
best to hear his operas live
You seem such a put on, so full of disdain, filled with deceit
Another shady deal to buy or ruse, forms your restless sleep
Your name is above reproach, with cash to throw on the pile
Another display of excellence to honor your smirking smile
Oh, the laughter of your friends, so in awe of your name
Yet, so blind to the extortion of your latest and greatest scheme
You turn admirer’s heads so only your wealth is on display
And shades the smirk behind your smile, invisible night and day
It’s the smirk in the eyes that testifies against you in the end
And reveals the false pride on top and the lies deep within
For when the mask is torn away, exposing the smirk on the face
That wink says you’re keeping score, your mind is keeping pace
Reminder of a castle that crumbles with its foundation of sand
And the builder stands in judgement with a slap from the jilted hand
For as each stone falls away and the echoes heard for many a mile
A lifted chin can’t cover the cost bought with a smirching smile
--------------------------------------------------------------------
See the smirching Smile on Soap Operas
Friendship Garden
Springtime plants a friendship garden
Daffodils bloom – a smidge of sass -
Conducts chorus exuberant
Nodding snowdrops chant with pansies
Sing plainsong through dark days of cold
Crocus hum the harbinger’s song
In shades of purple, yellow, white
Narcissus join with harmony
As the melody crescendos
Dainty Jonquils add pure descants
Heart lifting joy in blessing songs
Poppy solos sing in crimson
Fiery notes of breathtaking grace
Hyacinths then trill arias
In sweet notes of lavender blue
Spring garden friends sing operas
4-1-22
Contest: Lay Form Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Thank you Susan Ashley for your inspiration!
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
With purpose her steps project pearlescent elegance
Finely cut fabric falls from her waist, embellishes
Weightless momentum, legs timed as ballroom
bustle musical march beside busy suburban thrum
Range Rover overgrown zebras meander, hands free
Inhabit hair salon adjacent spots, to emerge panthers
Claws comb plumb neat pelt on gym angular shoulders
Watched white teeth greet crimped cappuccino domes
From rotting fence, cluttered sunroom mottled streets
Feral hedges blend shed dilapidation with neighbours
Pearl recalls the rural run-down houses, howling low hope
Chimneys emitting messages to status never received
Mauve smoke drifts to city monotonous nonchalance
Eleventh level sky view squares share trove of eventide
Tang in coveted ticket operas from atop lavish lifestyle
High rise residents' glinted sun sets show mirrors only
20th March 2021
Written for Contest : Eight Word Bard
Sponsor : John Hamilton
Words of necessary inclusion are:
pearlescent, thrum, plumb, crimped,
feral, howling, eventide, tang
it’s been a very long and lonely quarantine
It’s allowed me the time
to write four great operas
two great symphonies
paint three masterpieces and
actually write one fictitious six line ditty
We danced violet nights into day,
And walked the sunny bay.
We dined champagne and caviar,
And drove far in your beautiful car!
Everyone noticed when we hit the scene,
Like actors on a movie screen.
Each hot party sent invitations.
Had friends in many nations.
I owned lots of lovely dresses;
Had the acquaintance of princesses!
Each day we made the society page.
Our lives were quite the rage.
A blur of operas, theaters, concerts;
We were socially witty, always pert.
Committed no little social crimes.
Trend setters, we graced The Times.
Day and evening, we painted the town!
Wearily, rosy sunsets went down.
No one will ever forget our names.
Such was our fame!
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