shining scarlet tempts
juicy pulps entice palate~
keeps doctor away
Categories:
pulps, fruit,
Form: Haiku
Three dogs at the groomers, three hours till there done
go out to eat lunch, have Italian tasty and fun
Entrees served, cell phone rings
Kublai's eye bleeding, doggie bags they bring
Get Kublai to the vet, has pulps on his eyelid
surgery to remove them, clean teeth as he's out on meds
Back to the groomers Ghenghis barking up a storm
Sassy nervous growls as trimming her nails performed
Ghenghis happy to see me looks like a puppy all prim
Sassy frighten harder to get her in kennel second time
Home with those two back to the vet
Kublai ready to go home in my lap he sit
His eyelid fixed and had two teeth pulled
Kublai wearing a cone feeling like a fool
He got stuck under a end table wouldn't back up
the cone came off Kublai as Ghenghis sniffed his butt
Kublai in a deep sleep Sassy licks his eye
Ghenghis begging as I eat my Italian wanting a bite to try.
Categories:
pulps, dog, pets,
Form: Rhyme
The gleaners undirt
these profane candy morphs
as they sift through the fields
in springs and falls.
Apiaceous, mud beige
burrowed beasties, them
bow legged, cowboy pulps;
others with flipped birds
sprung up from their hairy
carrot fists, bronxing to the sun.
You would think they
would be tough, those
mutter udders, those gangsta roots,
but they slice nicely into sticks,
lunch box size, far sweeter
than the common orange of their ilk,
far sweeter than their own
shrubby beards would veil.
Perhaps it’s the extra time
under muck that honeys them up,
dirt balls matriculating,
steeped in their element.
On weekends at the soup kitchen,
late May through long past Labor Day,
we pack the sweet gleaned under-chips
into sack lunches with smoked ham hero’s
and Frito's downtown behind the Kroger
where a sunny civil riot takes
place on Saturdays, and everyone
shows up out of their bag
to pick up the sticks, hungry stomachs,
all blood color-red in the gut
all ready to sit their hells
down…and eat.
Categories:
pulps, family, food, fruit, giving,
Form: Free verse
punctured passion plucked
gaunt confetti crunched
perforating porous pulps
oozing glitches gulped
cozy contractions cupped
lanky liquid's lust
eerie efforts etched
pompous platter's crest
sucking salient stress
gullible groom grooved
hoisted passion puked
bride trust bruised
meagre honeymoon mocked
sassy strife stocked.
'20:05:03:09:43
Note: Of pulpy picture.
Categories:
pulps, lost love, love,
Form: Sonnet
Tis the late June day
Which bring flocks
Their subconscious intentions
Obfuscated by the lingering dimensions
Flaccid ideals and breezes
Traversing gingerly through
The ancient elms
Seeded by the pulps of history
They pray, with each scrape
Of their prescient footsteps
For the sparkle, the brilliance
Those ghostly matters provide in perpetuity
The heat emanating from yearnings
Executed by minute's drive
From understandings siloed
In the labyrinth of mind's eye and virtue
Bless us, grand tome
Executor of fine minds and savages
Vanquish, release us into the
Banal confines heretofore begging
To improve and congeal
For the worlds remote
Need the godliness
The opaque permissive rain
Quenching thought to act
Towards probable endings
Splendid imperatives
Preserved for those
Who wish to partake.
(6/24/08)
Categories:
pulps, appreciation, education, eulogy, inspiration,
Form: Free verse
Gargling, a gargoyle’s groan gulps
From the bilingual blackness of TV,
A clockwork advertisement pulps
Knowledge into your worn mind free
Of charge. Nothing but gobbledegook
Everywhere, an insistent humming bee
And you just volunteered for the hook.
You can’t understand it, but still can see
That it’s appealing. Someone wants it.
We now return you to your film with Mr T,
But subtitled. There’s nothing to do but sit,
enjoy – all else is static - and sweatily agree.
Your mind is a sad wastebasket of re-runs;
Rom-coms galore, dubbed films about keys,
Action films with loud explosions and guns.
Poor translation aside, I enjoy foreign Telly.
Categories:
pulps, adventure, education, history, holiday,
Form: Verse
DEW REFLECTING NEW
` ` ` ` . . . ` ` ` `
of late, in air-brushed tints
when kohl of night seeks
that which exposes a content heart,
I slip into a gauze of familiar peace,
accepting the slow exposure of a
day, fingers warming the pageantry
of meadows evergreen: a warm breeze
is fair as roses inching into
a my alley of contentment,
dissolving the pulps of anxious hours.
It is as simple as that. Gratitude is known
as a prize for soaking the bliss of simple
leisure bestowed by dew reflecting new.
all rights reserved
©
` ` ` ` ` ` `
CONTEST: Least Views, Casarah Nance
Theme:A Poem... Max14 Lines
1st Prize Win
Categories:
pulps, thank you,
Form: Verse
Pepsi,
comes with sound,
si,
si for yes,
and si for the sound,
when it cuts,
in nostrils,
when gulped,
without making it in small pulps,
its fizz,
its all an impressive jigg,
you consume the fizz,
with a resounding hiss,
it travels down,
that golden liquid marvellous,
inside the cavity,
as if quenching the stomach parch,
carbon dioxide and other gases,
that need to be thrown out,
are ensnared by this fizz,
and out belches the entire noxious setup,
in a big gizz,
pepsi,
is si and si.
Categories:
pulps, inspirational
Form: Free verse