September where have you been?
The June days burnt my smooth skin,
in July it was hot and I needed extra sun screen.
August was fun pool time with us all-in.
Finally lovely September to break-in,
with many wonderful holidays to begin.
I passed the local swimming pool
And saw that what remained
Was lots of empty space because
The water had been drained.
Now, I am not a swimmer,
Though I walk by every morn,
Way too early for the crowds of folks
Where bathing suits are worn.
Yet I’m certain they enjoyed it,
Cooling off or doing laps,
While the children played or splashed
With “Marco Polo!” shouts, perhaps.
That’s all finished for the season
And the lifeguards, too, are gone,
Maybe to an indoor gym, where some
Aquatics still go on.
she shed her clothes and tiptoed to the water’s edge
the moon bathed her pink skin, showing the lightness of her backside
faeries and elves pretended to sleep, but felt delighted
in the corner of a shadow a watcher stared, mesmerized and intrigued
she took out a spell book and read an enchantment.
The water began to move and bubble; it looked like it was boiling.
hidden watcher was fixated on the witch, wondering at her prowess.
he did not hear the faeries or the elves, having little imagination.
cloud shadows crossed the moon, making the watcher look up.
He heard a splash, but the witch was gone. Had she jumped in?
He stared at the water for twenty or thirty minutes.
Expecting her to reappear, but she never did.
Was she an illusion? A dream? A sorceress? He stayed a bit longer.
It is the bewitching pool, one of the gnomes whispered.
But he did not hear, and was frightened by what he had seen.
Even more terrifying was what he had not seen.
Moonlight on my still pool of darkness,
deep with joy.
I offer you a silent kiss
emerging from my chlorine, longing dreams.
Nights of solemn swims steeped in
Gratefulness .
You rippled in waves like the Pool of Bethesda,
obeying the breath of the Holy Spirit.
You were clueless to your beauty then.
Tonight, dank, covered., unused, murky pond.
I sleep this time within a mile of your being.
Oh, to rush down the street and save you,
my pool, my one time love, private delight.
Dreaming, remembering.
Do you swoon for the body of your old owner,
our smoldering summer nights of splendor?
Receive my silent kiss coming through the cosmos
on a moonlit carpet to you
my still pool of algae and darkness.
My still pool of great glee.
I once owned a house with an inground pool that I loved to swim in on hot summer nights. I am sure that the polar bear misses his ice, gone due to global warming. Maybe even zoo captivity.
Go gayly to the school, Obedient to its rule, Behave cordially and cool, Don't be a confused pool, Learn the learning tool, And avoid to be a fool.
Laying out by the pool, Jules was caught
wearing less than the rules said she aught
She was asked by the cop
why she'd cast off her top
Her reply? "it's s July and I'm hot"
And then it stopped.
The jagged edge of anxiety smoothed
by the fall in slow motion -
A tumble into a pool of tranquility.
Suddenly awakened from the angst
by the splash of a refreshing reality;
reminding me that I need to
swim in peace for a while.
The pool is deep and calming.
It soothes the rawness of disquiet
and the cruelty of dispassion which
has dominated my recent existence.
Resistance melting in the serenity of
the rippling water, I float,
perfectly at peace and calmed by
the composure of the landscape.
It has stopped ………
and I can breathe at last.
the heat is now on
thank God for the cool A/C
heading for a pool
The Genetic pool
I’m my father’s son, I carry his genes
He is a part of me that is inseparable
If I hate him, I dislike myself
These days, I’m older than my father
He is my son, and I love my son
Once I saw my father on the bus
He reached out to say hello
Misinformed, I ignored his gesture
Looked out of the bus window
I saw his tears
Wish the moment would return
It is my eternal shame
My father is my son, I think of him
Gently.
The last poem in my new collection
When handed a stuffed pullet
looks like a stunned mullet
should I turn surly
in high dudgeon
please don't bludgeon
this old curmudgeon
and not to be outdone
altho' I am an only son
blame my parents
by all means
as I'm the result
of their poor genes
which run the gamut
of the spectrum
but I don't care one bit
not a jot nor give a sh*t
more politely put
I really couldn't render
a rodent's rectum
A pool of blood drying
on the floor
A broken vase
that was once full of love
Lillys dying
on the ground
Its sober,
living that's sometimes
perplexing.
Even more on
nights like this
the depression always wins
again and again
this time by slit wrists.
I find my hands are dripping -
With the wax of my emotion.
And yet I lie here waiting -
In the pool of my devotion.
How could i know this fervor -
From flame who melts my candle -
If I wait to jump at grandeur,
A heat fresher than I can handle.
The wise can't act by chance,
So they must not know of passion.
Cold wax still smells of romance -
It is strong but shaped from ration.
pristine clean water
swimming pool for two fun dogs
retrievers mudhole
puts in rocks and clay
thick enough for mudpies now
brother drinks his fill
The winter stared at me, hollow-eyed and grim,
flakes of snow draped the earth in silence.
My lips quivered, teeth rattling their cold refrain,
and they danced—not with legs, but with their whole bodies.
Then my head went numb, my thoughts unwound,
consciousness slipped beyond the veil.
I soared like the angels—we all grew wings,
new arrivals, lost among strangers.
Before a great gate, we were set apart,
memory severed, the past a whisper.
The snow had risen~an unbroken white peak,
and the trees stood crowned in frost’s embrace.
My eyes grew misty, each tear frozen mid-fall,
my mind still locked in winter’s grasp.
Like thieves vaulting from shattered glass,
memories took flight, then scattered like dew on rooftops.
I searched for myself in pools of melted snow,
but my past had fled like a startled horse.
No trace remained~no pain, no triumphs,
only the wait to whine or wine and dine.
Yet even if a cup were placed in my hands,
the taste of good wine lay lost upon the wind.
The Pool Shark
Double or nothing
I go for the gold.
I meet with the devil
and sell him my soul.
Content with the knowledge
I will win it all.
I let him guide me
to the pool hall table.
Dressed in my white suit
with Panama hat.
I stand with my cue
and watch my sucker rack.
As I line up my shot
I hear bets exchanged.
Their values are spoken
with a varying range.
With a gleam in my eye
I strike the cue ball
And watch as my shot
caused the three ball to fall.
I pump my fist in glee
for I called the side pocket
In the ball shot like a
red fiery rocket.
My skills went down hill
and I lost all my cash.
The rest of my game
had gone into the trash.
As I slunk out the door
Old Scratch was waiting for me.
Your soul is mine now
he said with great glee.
As we walked off to hades
that burn with fierce fire.
I sadly learned to deal with the devil
I should never have believed that crafty old liar.
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