The backyard fills with windy snow
For the whole weekend
Until the floor of the Earth
Fluffs itself
Levitates
And observably lifts its pedestal
A foot closer
To the sky
Reaches
And clutches
The feather
Of my busy wind chime
Hung
To the side of a Maple
Holds it still
By its tail
Brings
The music of the storm
To a stop
I hold my last-chance breath
For the piccolos of the chickadees
To take over
For the trees to slide away
The snowmen they have become
For my mother’s mind to come back to us.
Categories:
piccolos, age, life, memory, mother,
Form: Free verse
Riding the rhythms of rolling wheels
Driving rusty rock desert miles
Purring pistons pumping power
To my mottled muddy jade jeep
A symphony sprung in my head
Dawning with dainty din of drums
Paving a path for piccolos
And rich rumblings of black bassoons.
Strings sent soaring counterpoint smoke
Playing with a glory sublime
In flawless metronomic time
Mozart tears of joy would have shed.
Music was a top choice grand cru
But when I had to stop for gas
And gulp soothing bubbly soda
My sweet symphony flew away.
Fermented fine without any skills
My heady brew I can't renew.
Categories:
piccolos, loss, me, memory, music,
Form: Free verse
Folks more sophisticated than me might say I ain't got no couth, I suppose,
But I ain't a fan of Bach, Liszt and Mozart nor the music they compose!
Spare me the screechin' violins, growlin' cellos and twitterin' piccolos,
The rumblin' bassoons, the thunderin' timpani and the odious oboes!
Seems the woodwinds, strings, brass and percussion do their own thing,
Renderin' ramblin' and atonal piffle - no pleasure to mine ear doth it bring!
I'd rather listen ad infinitum to Elva Ruby Miller's shrill and off-key renditions,
Than suffer the agony of a two-hour symphony by professional musicians!
Categories:
piccolos, humorous, music,
Form: Rhyme
Parades prepared for pleasure and pageantry.
Phalanx of performers pound the pavement;
percussion sets the pace; piccolos lead.
Princes and princesses pass by on floats;
painted clowns pantomime, making kids smile
Patient pedestrians peddle their wares while
policemen patrol the streets for problems.
Patrons and parents pack the parking spots
peeling their eyes for a parader they know.
Politicians pitch peppermints and promises.
Parades leave us pleased but played-out.
written March 27, 2018
contest: Silent One's, Alliteration
Categories:
piccolos, celebration, march, parents, princess,
Form: Alliteration
A rich rusty old screw on an escalator in a shopping centre can never really be as exact as a tidal wave forming with over fifty prawns playing in an elevator. For elevators are really lifts and lifts are only ever given to tiny turtles with placards standing on a roadside facing west. It is not a given right to stand on a roadside turning for the five hundred million and fifty one thousand four hundred and eighty-three yellow bugs would rise, jump and push out of the way anyone who dares to interrupt a sleeping stretch of pavement. But pavements are pathways and pathways can play pianoforte on about the times it takes to travel down and up and through the fields. Tinkle tinkle then. Said the passing tribe of wheels. We are wheels and we spin. Look. Look how interesting we are to watch. Inside inner informational interference ignites interesting ideas. And a free house is a gift for a one-off party of piccolos in long silky kimonos. Laughing. Haha the hammer is giggling at the drill given by the spanners. Hahaha leaping over the cooker and barbecues. Xxxxx stalagmites Z Z Z Z ample apples amongst apes ate appropriate aromatic atoms.
Categories:
piccolos, appreciation,
Form: I do not know?
Musical nonsense – purging thoughts
Songs of the heart fill the notes on the sheet
Black upon white in the fanciest lace
Strings out of tune to the places they meet
Melodies wane in the moments we trace
Choruses christened in sweet water glow
Ring through the valleys while villagers sleep
Echoes of remnants the masses did know
Following tears in the music they weep
Bass beats now driving, the wind at the wheel
Harmonic detours turn lyrics around
Lost with a map folded twice to conceal
Any direction a bridge can be found
Violins float on a cloud made of rain
Drifting through caverns much deeper it seems
Piccolos run past the chord dangled pain
Wondering what has become of their dreams
Symphonic whispers of volumes too high
Scream in the night by the light of the moon
Dancing with shadows that soon wander by
Curious why this is so out of tune
Still here I sit on a bench made of pine
Pencil in hand and a page it does greet
Playing these keys hoping but to remind
Songs of the heart fill the notes on the sheet
Don't ask me.
Categories:
piccolos, music, nonsense,
Form: Rhyme
Painting a picture of porcupines playing
Pincushions parked in the field
Purple and pink for this playful perception
Plans of their purpose revealed
Painful endeavors of pacified pranksters
Preparing a pie at their place
Pecan or pumpkin, pickle, pineapple
Pieces are smeared on their face
Putting the paint on some powder puff paper
Pleasure in each stroke is plied
Pausing to peer at some porpoises playing
Prancing in pansies they hide
Puzzling problems with pretzels and peanuts
Posturing people to prove
Pistachio perfume in prime presentation
Preaches that peaches will move
Polishing pastels on pre-printed pages
Prized the possessions we seek
Paisley the plumes of a peacocks posterior
Portraits now come take a peek
Pampering pelicans play the piano
Pure as a piccolos prayer
Picking a parcel of plum flavored pudding
Poetic prose fills the air
Pleats in my pants shout in proud proclamation
Puddle my pores that perspire
Poodles on playgrounds prevent prosecution
Plotting my hearts pure desire
Passion precedes every past tense of parting
Piled with a presence so true
Painting a picture while purposely dreaming
Promising my love to you
Categories:
piccolos, love, nonsense,
Form: Alliteration
Millipede. Multitude. Millionaire damson. When elevation is caused by an unauthorized z code a b could be an m an an m could be a t or an a so please do not throw coats into the weirs. Especially in snow or sun. As yet a vehicular version of a pavement has yet to be classed as a g curve. But planting playing piccolos but a clock timed cluck is as useful as a cartwheeling crab on an ice skating rink. Haha sail nor sink. Division divulges data derisive design. And the smiley smiley cat. Purring. Plentiful. Pleasurable. Xxxx bouncing bopping booming bacon.. And division is neither a derision nor a diluge. Hahahaha and a cake. Hahahaha and a friendly reminder off a pickled caper. A quiff is a quaff in a quantitive quagmire. A tangerine now on a trampoline. Wow. Bounce. Bouncy. Vern Vorster virtue. Xxxxx molecules of molluscs are mandatory minions. And a mandatory man is not a male nor a tan. Ridding riding radio. Xxxx hahahaha and a dolphin donut arch. But no treacle. Just tape. Hahahaha and feel good a fragment. Xxxxx z z z and a p y q and obviously its time and date and correspondences and correctional xxxxxx distillation z
Categories:
piccolos, art, assonance,
Form: I do not know?
Millipede. Multitude. Millionaire damson. When elevation is caused by an unauthorized z code a b could be an m an an m could be a t or an a so please do not throw coats into the weirs. Especially in snow or sun. As yet a vehicular version of a pavement has yet to be classed as a g curve. But planting playing piccolos but a clock timed cluck is as useful as a cartwheeling crab on an ice skating rink. Haha sail nor sink. Division divulges data derisive design. And the smiley smiley cat. Purring. Plentiful. Pleasurable. Xxxx
Categories:
piccolos, bible,
Form: I do not know?
When and if a dribble quaver bears an octave and stands on a score one must elevate sound to ninety-eight beats a second for to succumb to a moderate tempo is to work oneself into a crescendo. Wow. Work of art then. Tinkling interludes and a big bass drum. Pointing and pouting at musicians with a seventeen acre stick in the air does not create a vastness. It merely creates a pantomimed action. And seven hectares means an acorn shaped accordion so don't wear a piano pin to a rehearsal. Trample not a trombone. And behave appropriately at a waving weaving web of musical performances. Ding lang a loo loo then. Wow. Fantastic froggy frees frameworks. And a misted multiplication in a single key. Laughing. Hahahahahahahahaha and now spin around. Soup style. Interesting isn't it. But an octagonal orifice of an octave is an operatic theatrical octopus. Dig no shrine under a melodramatic bus then. And fashion is not a fable nor a fragmentation. Xxxxx piñatas pinning picturesque piccolos' xxxxx harmonisation Z with a double bond of C.
Categories:
piccolos, best friend,
Form: I do not know?
A pea in a blanket. help assistance is required for the gnome was drawing near to the fire but was blocked by a rat who has morphed into a bee. Worker bee. Good. Fantastic. And now the baboon ensures no pork fest. Great. And obviously no one bothered. And obviously no one cared enough. Oblivious oblivion then. Cable car bra in basins. Balsamic fruit fried. Paleontology patterned printed point. And a dew. Good. And a deity of a half blood means fame to a few. Goodbye goodnight and no good day. Hahaha smoked a single egg mackerel sandwich. Oooh worshipped by a majority vote of no confidence in the car park now. Xxxxx colonic clap clap your unit. Xxxxx passing through a series xxxxx paleontologist playing piano lessons zzz freedom of action for number of prancing prawns xxxx oleo royalist 0 paleontologist 5
Categories:
piccolos, basketball, bible,
Form: I do not know?
EDIBLE MUSIC
The garlics are on grand piano in the corner,
Playing alone because of their halitosis.
After making each other’s mouth water,
Clever lemons blowing their trumpets by osmosis.
Onions on sad violins making each other cry.
Mushrooms working in the dark but giving it a try.
Near the open window, beans - small but cute :
Those classic wind instruments , the musical fruit.
Latin rumba from Caracas with coconut maracas.
French grapes can-can in chorus;
Smiling bananas can’t-can’t, but just enjoy the scene.
Tangos with an Argentine tangerine.
Mangos mounting melodies on drums in Afrikaans
Peas piping on piccolos for an Italian folk dance
Rushing polka dots in a Russian borsch whirl.
Oyster shell castanets for a Spanish flamenco girl.
Asparagus dessed in ballet shoes always on tips,
And of course as always, Rose shaking her hips.
All rhythmic foot-tapping fruit
Forever looking for a new recruit.
Categories:
piccolos, music
Form: Couplet
The windows open to June-like breezes,
trampolines, piccolos, French-braided hair.
Another bag of kettle corn burns
in the microwave. I don’t care –
I feel like turning the lights off,
telling ghost stories.
Her stoned brother asks for munchies;
I burrow further beneath fleece blankets
and wish I could be young forever.
Categories:
piccolos, nostalgia
Form: Free verse