Manslaughter, murder and massacre is one
But a visit to the dentist is another
The eerie smiles hidden behind the masks
The twinkly eyes filled with plots
To offer they have lots and lots
Oh… those dentists I wish I had never met…!
Rubbery gloves and broken headlights
Red sinks of blood
The dirty water or is it mud?
Disgusting pastes and painful syrups
Tweezers, hammers, and drills
Certain of our deaths!
Oh… those dentists I wish I had never met…!
Every visit every time
Oh.. the noble hearts..
put on their smiles and say
-“it is just another month or two!
Have a Good Day”!
Oh… those dentists I wish I had never met…!
Categories:
pastes, humor, metaphor,
Form: Free verse
Whenever someone is referred to as the nicest it is you they mean,
You are also one of the most intelligent humans ever seen,
Not acknowledging your goodness is like committing a sin
Your greatness throws the best of others into a waste bin.
Beauty in no haste pastes a taste of deliciousness on your face,
The radiance of your smiles shines from a mile to brighten a gaze,
Your body sits on a seat of curvatures enough to quench a blaze,
You have a perfect combination of brain and beauty as a grace.
Prosperity prefers your home best for its bluntest expression of love,
Success brings you happiness with peace of mind fitting you like a glove,
The past pains of failures in your life have been relieved by God's oils of cloves,
Now your life is a reflection of blessings that's why prosperity filled up your troves.
May each of your days starts and ends with divine favours,
May good health and long life be there always for you to savour,
May abundance of wealth crown all your labours,
May you and your entire households enjoy blessings with divine flavours.
Categories:
pastes, anniversary, birthday, blessing, celebration,
Form: Rhyme
Today;
be the ember this morning hastes,
be the delight this morning tastes,
be the warmth this morning creates,
be the colour this morning pastes.
07/02/2024
Categories:
pastes, appreciation, christian, day, devotion,
Form: Rhyme
Night clings.
You sigh through the gears,
wave-ride after-shocks,
follow stretched-out beams
into the first gray unveiling
of the light
The sky can now be seen
shadowing itself.
Clouds weep dry tears,
and yet leave puddles
around your eyes.
A cloaked dawn
squints,
flickers weakly over the lower lid
of a lifting horizon.
A tepid sun has
pastes itself onto the distance.
So far,
the road ahead has had a blind ability
to avoid the Niagara’s or the Grand Canyons
of trouble ahead.
Just as well
for your mind has been sleep-driving.
The drunk rocking of a back axle
warns you of a rift in the drift.
You pull over for some eye squeezing moments.
Feel the road still racing up and down
your spine.
Phone in hand
your voice sounds hollow,
as you explain how first light
came late,
and it is really slowing you down.
Categories:
pastes, poetry,
Form: Free verse
night yet clings
yet smothers the numb highway
breathe the wheel
sigh through the gears
wave-ride rubber after-shocks
follow the beam-eyed light
into the blossoming gray
adjusts to blacktop rapids
the sky is passing
it is now ahead of itself
convertible clouds weep dry tears
slip-slide the slick dark banks
with flickering wrists
A second light blooms
a small sun pastes itself onto distant white
a hooded bonnet shakes like a wet wolf
the horizon is now a mobile scaffolding
the whispering tread of a fast coming daylight
rushes into view, it snorts though a crystal vase
that the mind grips tightly
the roads blind ability
to avoid Niagara or the Grand Canyon
guides cold white knuckles
the drunk rocking of a back axle
warns you of a surfacing
unpaved parking lot
engine bones tick-over
articulate shuddering full stops
as they cough up stillness
here
at the end of
one half of a minute
and that is the third manifestation
of breathable light
Categories:
pastes, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Moonless, the night pastes itself
onto an imaginary sky.
Cats crouch.
Under-bush nibblers in their bolt holes
whisker speak,
as trembling senses crawl
into a skin-tight stillness.
A cloud scatters
shredding threads of perception.
A lamp-lit moon glow
peers through a momentary window,
sees the swishing tail,
the twitching interim paused
in apprehension.
A tablue is caught
in the creeping stealth
of blood calling to blood.
Tracks will be hoar frosted over,
all will be well met
by the narrow boned dawn
where cawing crows may gather
for their pickings.
Categories:
pastes, poetry,
Form: Free verse
On Pimple Pond
Pocked, our dreams spurt from cabin walls.
Woolen cover and cotton pillow catch
pin point boils from day breaking, like pitted glass.
White pebbled path meanders the hill’s cheek,
wet from being squeezed by nights cold hard hands,
to where set-tables will not wait our scrubs,
pastes and pleas for clarity like hot egg whites.
Yawns pop-jaws hinged under waxy ears.
We pass the lake and spit the dregs of sleep
onto her smooth glassine mask.
At the mess ladybugs rest, on pickle-surfaced leaves,
decline to fly. We arrive for breakfast.
One hundred-twenty faces come to bond
And maybe find a friend on pimple pond.
Categories:
pastes, 9th grade, age, beauty,
Form: Free verse
stars in her eyes, fleeting…her broken heart
like confetti - the century’s storm, smart.
Ben didn’t rush - the Gordian knot tight.
He cuts grief’s umbilical cord - Kate’s knight
pinkens her cheeks, pastes back her smile. the stars -
Kate’s crowd surfing, beyond clouds, above the scars.
7/20/2022
Contest: Bite Size Poem no49
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Categories:
pastes, grief, love,
Form: Couplet
Sun Setting
Simmering setting Sun scattering squashy rays
Golden glow of Sun pastes patches in crimson hue
Serene Sun bids bye, bows to sky.
Tranquil twilight turns pale periwinkle.
Hazy halcyon horizon: Dusty dusk.
Sublime solitude stepping soft
following sundown.
Weary birds are returning nest for rest.
Sun sets on promise of next rise
at early dawn.
M
Categories:
pastes, sunset,
Form: Verse
Climb those many stairs, up to the stars.
“Cut!” Comes the child, the wee Pinkerton.
Stunt double, doubles down, with plethora of scars.
Fate is what it is, bumps, bruises...sorta fun.
Pinkerton rolls and bounces, ooches and ouches.
Then they call in the fingering ‘stache, for he smooths
the luscious hairs of his handlebar, never slouches.
Divine with his hands too, damsels-in-distress, he soothes.
Pinkerton pastes on his pastel beard, and breaks out
into a minor character. “Cut! Stunt dou—ble!”
The ‘Stache rips doppelgänger’s facial hair as Pinkerton shouts,
opens mouth, “Hey! Hey! That really hurt!” Now he’s in trouble.
Pinkerton pouts as he takes his final walk into the night.
Rubs his eyes as a werewolf runs by ready to attack.
Those mischievous stars yell, “Cut! Stunt double, fight!”
Alarmed, Pinkerton needs to know who has his back.
A werewolf snarls and twirls his whiskers with a pinky.
Suspicious and brave, the kid gives him a karate chop.
Pinkerton unzips the stinker from bottom to top.
Found out, ‘Stache grabs his blanket and binky.
11/3/2020
Categories:
pastes, fun, silly,
Form: Light Verse
Her husband passed away so suddenly
she pastes a smile on her face ...
heartache is kept inside
Three young children miss their daddy so much,
she tries to make fun filled days ...
life just has to go on
When she is all alone in the evening
she sobs into her pillow,
and cries herself to sleep
Pick A Title, Vol 11 – Kimo (3 Stanzas) - Poetry Contest
4. Undercurrent of Melancholy
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
10,7,6 checked with how many syllables
11/7/19
Categories:
pastes, bereavement, life,
Form: Kimo
Unlock your life’s padlock and turn not hands of time
Whether lemonade from lassitude lemons
Tastes awful, text messages irritate the mime
Your rate unfunny as savoury sermons
Scare daylights out of the bittersweet life you live
Regardless of storms that rage all around you
Swirling, churning your entrails as long as you can’t forgive
The bae who tore up your penchant for fickle feelings that chew
Memories, cherries and strawberries you once held dear
Until heartaches from mistakes and ill tastes
Flew and grew into your inner recesses instilling the fear
Love brought in the wake of cuts and pastes
You deride, a snide smile on the face
Worn out, fed up with routine, anxious for a facelift
In search of elusive answers macho men misplace
In a baseless belief a thief involved in a love shoplift
Stalks the life that turns its back on romance
The nemesis that time after time draws your attention
To a gregarious guillotine primed to slay the angst which on balance
Eats up the appetite whose sight on your blacklist deserves no memorable mention.
Categories:
pastes, poems,
Form: Free verse
Summer pastes
Reddened complexion
Stars twinkle through
Darkness vividly
Lightening closes in
Red tones spectrum
Lonely star shoots
Westward, quizzically
And stillness overcomes
The night's welcome glory
Night creates
With golden symphony
A dew drop falls
From a solitary leaf deflection
Squirming in sparkling
Triumphant nativity
While laughing brightly
In pleasuring suspension
As summer's morning
Rambles petulantly
Categories:
pastes, summer,
Form: Free verse
Replicas of calibrated handshakes,
captured screen-shot
search engine eyes,
silent in the deep darlings
of purple prose,
canons of instant articles of diction:
Taoists aren’t too quick to judge;
Machiavellians have mothers, too. But,
stirring anger to prance
in the unknown
is not in our nature
to prevail.
So Be without expecting expectation,
try while not trying,
and take nothing
to keep no more than now.
A minute steak for breakfast everyday,
cut and pastes a concise future
in a poem from,
predicted, or taken
from an abandoned URL.
Categories:
pastes, absence,
Form: Free verse
Are you frying today? No? Not at all? An attempt to pull the frying pan out would be better off left alone as other plates could fall. Oh dear. The frying is best done outside then? Yes? Are you even listening to the logic? You are? Really? Wow. Well that makes about as much sense as a conversation between a hammer and a screaming screw. No need or necessity for screw fix, adhesive pastes nor metallic elements. Ok then. Now that is sorted it is merely open to say and state that a single word like bus means a station and a single word like train also means station. Why??Because it does. Irrelevant interference interfering intertwining interesting innermost informational influences. Like pow Pow Pow then? Ok and goose kisses a hare. Sponge tab equals tap tap tap and opened opinionated oversized overspills' are too noisy in a library. X mountaineering z z z z at seven yawning lions looking out of a keyhole to twelve flamingos bouncing on trampoline lake. z
Categories:
pastes,
Form: I do not know?
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