It's seven o'clock and the sun is setting.
It's my least favourite thing about fall.
Too soon it will be days so short
we wonder if they were there at all.
Already the leaves on the trees are turning.
Such colourful pinafores they wear.
Fall is the most beautiful season of all,
with so much beauty to share.
As I write, outside, the sky is changing
to its array of colours before bed.
The pinks and the golds and the purples
mixing in with the oranges and reds.
With the skies now darkening we bid adieu
to another glorious Fall day.
But once Autumn ends, if it's all the same to you,
could we skip right over to May.
23/09/2022
DREAMING OF YELLOW POPPY FIELDS
Soft among the yellow poppy fields,
I clung to clocks of Dandelions,
Driven by my seeds of youth.
Breathless in their grace,
They gather all, rolling in the summer hay.
A bravura blow of what youth should be,
Chasing down the summer's lease.
Cockle shells and pinafores.
On a beach of wave wet toes
and sandwiches,
Longing for a summer of swimming
and sun warmed skin.
Remembered in the blush of girls, laughing'
Lying on our backs in the moon rise apogee.
Midsummer light steals the dawn.
Climbing the hill to summer's peak;
Dreaming long of those fire hot days,
Sleeping in yellow poppy fields.
tiny pink buds
trimming little girls lace pinafores
one lone rose in a crystal vase at church
delighting those who take a whiff
knock-out roses
neon and fabulous
showing off in the garden
marigolds and lilacs jealous
yellow roses
given by unsure suiter
who was afraid to choose the red ones
greeted with a fabulous smile
white roses
in bride’s bouquet
enhancing her virginity
delighting her father and mother
honoring Christ
Modern Appetite
by Michael R. Burch
"Women, wine, song ..."
It grumbled low, insisting it would feast
on blood and flesh, etcetera, at least
three times a day. With soft lubricious grease
and pale salacious oils, it would ease
its way through life. Each day—an aperitif.
Each night—a frothy bromide, for relief.
It lived on TV fare, wore pinafores,
slurped sugar-coated gumballs, gobbled S’mores.
When gas ensued, it burped and farted. ’Course,
it thought aloud, my wife will leave me. Whores
are not so damn particular. Divorce
is certainly a settlement, toujours!
A Tums a day will keep the shrink away,
recalcify old bones, keep gas at bay.
If Simon says, etcetera, Mother, may
I have my hit of calcium today?
Keywords/Tags: modern, appetite, supersize, me, indulgence, gluttony, bromide, seltzer, gas, Tums, calcium, quick, cure, tonic, overeating, women, wine, song, America, vanity, society, city, life
Sitting on a park bench
and taking in the view,
she's always got an eye out
for the children, me and you,
pestering our parents
with a grumble or a pout.
We cluster all around her,
we call her 'Auntie Pearl,'
to listen to her stories of
when she was just a girl;
tales of pinafores and mittens,
lovely hats for Sunday best,
patent leather shoes and stockings,
turning out so smartly dressed!
There were picnics and fun times
down by the river when they'd walk
two miles or more learning their rhymes.
Riding in a carriage pulled by
horses up and down the street,
calling at a neighbor's house -
there'd always be a treat!
Taking presents to the homeless
the day after Christmas Day,
helping those who didn't have much
food to eat, or games to play.
She told us, "Listen to your folks
and grow up big and strong,
help others when you have the chance,
and greet them with a song."
One Saturday she didn't come to take her usual seat.
We kids all clamored:"Where's Aunt Pearl?
she made our day complete." Moms said:
"She's telling stories to the angels now, it's true.
She loves you all, and she's still watching over you."
like ballet dancers
in colourful pinafores
an impromptu dance
choreographed by the wind
leaves dance to Autumn's sweet song
for Nathan's contest "Tanka (Season)"
Sitting on a park bench
and taking in the view,
she's always got an eye out
for the children, me and you,
when we're pestering our parents
with a grumble or a pout.
We cluster all around her,
we call her 'Aunty Pearl,'
to listen to her stories of
when she was just a girl;
tales of pinafores and mittens,
smashing hats for Sunday best,
patent leather shoes, and stockings,
turning out so smartly dressed!
There were picnics and fun times
by the river where they'd walk
two miles or more, learning to talk.
Riding in a carriage pulled by
horses up and down the street,
calling at a neighbour's house -
there'd always be a treat!
Taking presents to the homeless
the day after Christmas Day,
helping those who didn't have
much food to eat, or games to play.
She told us, "Listen to your folks
and grow up big and strong,
help others when you have the chance,
and greet them with a song!"
One Saturday she didn't come to take her usual seat.
We kids all clamoured, "Where's Aunt Pearl?
she makes our day complete." Moms said:
"She's telling stories to the angels now, it's true.
She loves you all, believe me, she is watching over you."
```` `` ``````
Captivating my senses, a floral banquet
robed in gold- orange pinafores with curls,
their faces upturned to greet new sunset
trays of daffodils rouse fields in fragile twirls
Untold splendor blushes of dainty youth
luring me to pluck scented ruffles in a dish,
but oh, daffodils in a dance whisper the truth
"we're born free"; I bow and make a wish!
The steel gray ocean pounds the shore,
it strikes a somber, morbid chord,
I sit becalmed now, by the roar,
on the porch of weathered boards.
I reminisce on times before,
when life was mine, an open door,
I lift my eyes, to God implore,
every muscle, sinew sore.
The pain cuts through me like a sword,
I've lost my touch, my sharp rapport,
I've prayed my health could be restored,
caress the bullets, smooth, large bored.
No seaside silence anymore,
death is final, evermore,
full metal jackets do the chore,
memories flood, a cold downpour,
Crisp white eyelet pinafores.
southern pines and sycamores,
endless secrets to explore,
a child again, forevermore.
©copyright2010DanielleWhite
Sitting on a park bench
and taking in the view,
she's always got an eye out
for the children, me and you,
pestering our parents
with a grumble or a pout.
We cluster all around her,
we call her 'Auntie Pearl,'
to listen to her stories of
when she was just a girl;
tales of pinafores and mittens,
lovely hats for Sunday best,
patent leather shoes and stockings,
turning out so smartly dressed!
There were picnics and fun times
down by the river when they'd walk
two miles or more learning their rhymes.
Riding in a carriage pulled by
horses up and down the street,
calling at a neighbour's house -
there'd always be a treat!
Taking presents to the homeless
the day after Christmas Day,
helping those who didn't have much
food to eat, or games to play.
She told us, "Listen to your folks
and grow up big and strong,
help others when you have the chance,
and greet them with a song."
One Saturday she didn't come to take her usual seat.
We kids all clamoured:"Where's Aunt Pearl?"
she made our day complete. Moms said:
"She's telling stories to the angels now, it's true.
She loves you all and she is watching over you."
bourbon iced tea
cashmere sweaters
billie holiday
strings of chilli peppers
buttery mercedes
french vogue
fans turning lazily
chanel sunglasses. hermes scarf. fendi purse.
its better to have real.
rice paper journals.
charcoal and oil
vanilla spice soaps, chamomile shampoo
running on the shore.
tongues lapping words like cream.
milk baths.
perfume, nostalgia.english gardens, lambs, and pinafores.
dancing in a thunderstorm
crying in the sun
emotions on paper
wads of hundreds
the best
classic
meals of appetizers, chilled wine
grace kelly
scarf in the wind
freedom
it doesnt have to be a mans world