Penciled Poems | Examples

Hospice

He blinks in and out in a wingchair,
overhears what visitors say
when patients
can be talked about
as if not there.

People speak well of the dying,
even of dying strangers,
to him their words
prematurely shovel earth.

The terminally sick
must be accommodated,
penciled into time slots,
eased gently into oblivion.

He listens as he slips downstream
on a raft of morphine.
These last trips are scenes taken
from childhood books.

His own life story has become
absurd, it is almost as if
he is a character in someone else's life,
a Huckleberry Finn
whistling through Dantes Inferno.

What he really wants
is a rocking horse and ice-cream.
A nurse brings him ice-cream,
but it's the wrong flavor.

He wonders if anyone can see
the horse he rides upon,
his ten-gallon hat is as white
as a flying nun's Cornette.

The occasional visitors
watch the dying in dreadful relief.
Hypnotic minds drone like trapped bee's.

Frank Sinatra jets in from wonderland,
hands him a coloring book.
If only he had crayons
to fill in the blanks.

Sunset

As a spent sun sets,
ebony shadows
merge with silhouettes;
penciled in the rough
by a charcoal dusk.

A brazen breeze
makes me shudder;
I feel it's cool
breath on my face.

And as wolves
and fireflies,
welcome Night,

the moon
glints like

gold.

Kiss Me

“Kiss Me”

Purple is the color of 
My true love’s hair
She tied it in a knot             
And bound it with a yellow bow.
Said kiss me if you want.

Orange is the color of 
My true love’s nails
She put a diamond on each one,
Said kiss me if you want.

Green is the color of
My true love’s eyes
She grew her lashes long
Penciled in her brows
Much to my surprise,
Said kiss me if you want.

Gold is the color
Of that jewel on her tongue 
She put it there forever 
Never to come out,
Said kiss me if you want.

Black is the color
Of an eagle on her back
She bought it in Saint Louie
From a man named Tim Dewey, 
Said kiss it if you want.

So naïve am I
I kissed her everywhere
And still dream of eagle feathers 
Way down there.

Enthusiasm

For Sotto Poet's  E  Words Contest
17 June 24

-----------------
"Enthusiasm is nothing more or less than faith in action" -- Henry Chester

I cling to reveries of youth, the tender sentiment of plucking words from summer roots,
That in my journal hours when the red
of skies are agleam...phrases extend long   long as straw.

I burn language the way one does in
a flamed trance--amused,  enthused, 
seduced--  reeling into a daze beneath 
a new moon,    a blur of penciled happenstance flapping like a winged feather on river of late afternoons.  

I would still scribble in hay where syllables grow into racy tunes , my faith abiding in passion deep...
And I could not help myself but drown
my hands in raw and humid lines;

Bury my eyes deep in verses' jammed.
I'm loathed to leave my untamed story
when twilight fades. Still and all, letters
drip and tradewinds see  blown paper

curling like blotted fingertips!

Why Does a Spider Have Eight Legs?

Two of them are for the steering wheel;
To drive unsafely is to be a heel. 
One is to make penciled calculations;
To make missteps is to spoil relations. 
Two more make amorous advances;
Based on calculations, he has good chances.
One makes careful notes, oh so detailed,
So, one day, his memoirs can be retailed.
Two are needed to solemnly pray 
That a baby spider is not on its way.

Once Your Fool

An April fool
twelve months out of the year.
And it’s been a full calendar year
without you in it.

Empty spaces 
take up my planner now.
Devoid of you and me
and all the plans 
that we made together.
You’re gone, and what’s left
is just empty spaces

Does your name lay 
along someone else’s 
planned-out days?
Is their planner
surrounded by hearts?
Or was that just mine?

Is it written forever
 in ballpoint pen?
Or carelessly penciled in
haphazardly
as a second thought?

Pencil means 
subject to change.
Is she just waiting 
to erase your name?
Waiting for something better,
someone better…
than you. 

Just remember 
my poor fellow fool,
I cared enough-- 
when you were mine…
to use 
permanent 
black 
ink.



Nearly two years ago, on April 1, 2021, I decided to try ’30 days of poetry.’ This was day one and the prompt was ‘Fool’ and this is what came of it.

Neglected

I’m sporting this new lipstick
it won’t fade, smudge or smear
I’ll be lucky if it wears off this year.

I’ve got this new eyeliner that’s like
a luxurious, glittering, penciled tattoo
Leong asked, “How do you get it off you?”

I unpacked these chemical wonders
to see if they’ve lost their luster
by being neglected since last summer.

When you study too much, you feel pent-up,
so my compadres and I chose to get dolled-up,
rolling-up to dinner, like beauty queens on parade,
and not just sophomore scrubs trying to make the grade.
.
.
Webster: compadre: a close friend or buddy

Still Young Inside

Hands worn, warm
Embracing the heart,
Smiles, in eyes – twinkling
Each thought, 
Precious gifts from one
Who listens to the still, small voice
The love who abides inside
Where echoes of His light
Silence every doubt, all fear

Wrinkles, gray hair and skin,
Details of a life lived,
Life penciled in lines, haggard
Representations of secrets
Woven through the stitches
Scenes assigning hope
To the heart and grace
To the spirit, the yearnings
Dreams unfolding, imaginations
Reaching beyond the hopes
Into the silence of forever – always

She is 7 years younger than
Her mother was when she left
this world, this place…
pondering the rich blessings
Inspirations promising, in the graying
Hair, the pallid skin and painful 
Way knuckles crack and swell…
There is the promise of eternity
Even for the faded youth, the lost
Dreams and the failed past…
There is an eternity with Him,
A Savior who makes a way
Where no way has ever been known,
A way – for the heart to finally come home!

Face Value

Face Value

       choice ribbons out
       the low tide blessing reveals
       an image dressed in dust
       hypnotic turning towards the reply
       "you are not there"

       here in a four syllable open tinted
       window kind of place words float off
       along a floor of shifting memory
       both now and then
       weak and strong

       a heavy book is on the table
       leather bound embossed
       it's why I've come to sit here
       shotgun straight in another man's coat
       the metal voice continues
       "not much to go on"
       back and forth crawls down the eastern wall
       twice two squared in the mirrored glass
 
       if I said just what I am
       the coiled verb I'm hanging from
       would snap my penciled face
       I want to erase the air
       revise the hunted owl that haunts
       the burnt out forest

Romance That Was

"When tomorrow comes and I'm again with you,
I'll stand on your feet while we dance forever." 
Quote _ by poet


Yesterday seasons waved goodbye
as we listened to sounds of joy.

Spacious skies ever made anew
from sincere blue to jealous green.

Crosswise threads wind and hours drew nights
penciled footsteps patterns drew faint.

A wanderer of aged mirth, glean
quintessence love set forever.

Underneath sun amorous view
sweet golden years, not a goodbye.

You and I, unfinished garden
of poetic dreams and romance.

My love, my being still feels your
touch and hear your whispers of love.



3/28/2022

Form L - Lay - New Poetry Contest  2. Romance
Sponsored by: Constance La France

Map Making

Death has nothing to say,
there are no readable maps,
only a journey
penciled-in upon a blank sky.

Imagination colors itself,
builds its own truth.

Eventually we must draw our own maps.
Time waits for us
      to remember.

Parisienne Walkways

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98eIW6CN62k


Those Parisienne days of love beneath the Champs Elysees  
I remember Paris 1949, drinking a glass of old Beaujolais wine
And I recall that summer when we kissed and you were mine
In those Parisienne days, you were always `Ma Petite Poupee``
`
Looking back at photographs, summer days warm as honey  
corner cafes with creme brulee, pretty eyes a shade of rum  
sharing penciled love notes and paragraphs, you ma tres jolie   
together we did taste the wine, beneath the Parisienne sun 

We toured La Tour Eiffel I must admit you were tres belle 
with a french berret smile I guided you towards the lake 
Bassin de la Villette, where you were happy picking shells 
In those Parisienne days we were always wide awake 

I recall that summer  when we you promised to be mine 
in the petit cafe, where we shared a bottle of wine.

Noblesse Oblige

Painstaking plumes of surest gait
To wield diamond steel over fate;
With slow pair of wit-guarded lips,
As otiose words sway great ships. 

Invincible flair and exacting knack
To stand out from the frothy pack;
Ochred with all blue-penciled skill,
For nabob’s dimwits do mimic still. 

With the far-scanning aquiline eye
That fowls unborn miles like a spy;
Plus an ear for tiniest voices tuned,
For idlest vowel by vagaries ruined.

Gigantic empathy for pinched souls
Hewn down by lot’s inclement fouls;
Felt tear for fellow wayfarers stung
By blunt luck's blade rashly swung. 

A little but constant sacrifice betimes,
For bereft chum eschewed by dimes;
Or even total strangers in want of bail
Out of a jinx along existence’s icy sail.

The Rhyming Gene

While cleaning a closet, I came across
An envelope which held
Report cards from first grade on up,
The proof that I’d excelled.

Yet stuck between the cards I found
A little penciled note
In writing that I recognized
And this is what she wrote:

“Your closet needs cleaning, I’m sure you can tell
So talk on the phone less time to your Ell.*
Throw out the old things, cards, letters, shoes, too.
I’m sure there are some things you’ll keep – a few.
The rest of your room is as neat as a pin.
Clean out your closet – then the world can look in.”

This message from my mom, a poem
Reminded me today
That rhyming surely came to me
Within my DNA.

*Elliot, my high school boyfriend

Every Square

The days fill up, ‘til every square
Has something penciled in.
Since I retired, that’s the way
It’s somehow always been.

A class, a game, a lunch with friends,
Appointments with a doc,
Some travel plans, museum tours,
A babysitting block.

At times, an empty space stands out,
But I don’t really mind
For I can then catch up with all
The chores I’ve left behind.

Retirement provides the time,
A very special perk,
To do the things we couldn’t do
When we were stuck at work.

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