One of the benefits to being an early riser…
is I am blessed to hear and see the interplay
between the night as she clocks out
and cedes the mountains to the day.
There is a lonely owl who, if I’m early enough,
from her spot hidden in the trees
sings a lovely nightly swan song and sets it on the breeze.
She sings in a beautiful soprano…
clear, peaceful and bright…
as she anticipates the day…
with one final nocturne to the night
I think of it as the concluding song of an opera
and how, once her final song is through,
the birds who wake up with the day
begin their musical revue.
Perhaps she’s singing a wake-up song
A gentle musical number
into the ears of the morning birds
awakening them from their slumber.
And perhaps their singing in the morning
once their music fills the sky…
which to me seems like a symphony
to the owl …s a lullaby.
At any rate is it a wonderful way
for each new day to begin…
watching and listening to the nigh clock out
while the day is clocking in.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*
Words numb the mind whilst on paper,
idleness advocates,
a lost quill to favor a floor;
tossing profits to err,
that challenges remnants respite,
from energies spirits,
their internal venous chambers,
timely formulation.
Bach, nay Beethoven symphony,
caress the ears to muse,
a muted voice moistens lips, drains,
the endless sands of time,
as its host, vaporous spirits,
engages a review,
of Cherubs galloped chariots,
steads Athena’s harp plays,
illumes familial revue.
Sadden and laughter, exposes,
the stillness mummified,
as the blanketed sinks down low,
perchance a remedy,
will enlighten the slumbered gist,
as seasons in transit,
regulates targeted gamut,
palls nightmares, enhanced dreams.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*
...more stuff and nonsense...
Q: Why would it be a good thing if wood were used as money?
A: It grows on trees.
Q: Who was the star of last year's Christmas Drag Show?
A: Felice Navidude.
Q: Why was the adult film director upset when one of his actors couldn't get it up for the "money shot"?
A: It left him one prick shy of a load.
Q: What do you call it when radical moms and dads allow and/or encourage their children to be suicide bombers?
A: Bad parenting.
Q: What was one of the things King Solomon was most famous for?
A: Split decisions.
Q: Where were the toilet facilities located on Noah's ark?
A: On the poop deck.
Q: What does the Dental Fairy demand before she'll leave money under a kid's pillow?
A: The tooth, the whole tooth, and nothing but the tooth.
Q: What do a Giant Angora and an old analog TV have in common?
A: Rabbit ears.
Q: What did the press call the group of women boycotting a famous musical revue in New York?
A: The Radio City Blockettes.
Q: What is a support group for recovering poets and writers?
A: AA (Author's Anonymous).
there once was a cook kangaroo
who escaped an animal zoo
but a bread bubble gin
did fortunately win
head chef at a circus revue.
Dream-like is she, gleaming softly
through gauze of faded moon
Auroral her flame imbued with wings so
regal
Yellowing sky's revue through wisps
of haloed dew--
Somehow, she guides me through
deep prayer,
To exalt her for baptism of new
awakenings, promises made holy
And how she , Dawn, unveils what is
pure in my sacred world
Reflecting her timeless morn...
angel of first sun, daystar!
When old friends awake
I have lost my voice totally, not even a whisper
I pretend to stay on stage lift my left arm pretend there is a skull in my palm
“Is this you Yorick? It's difficult to tell in this night
so dark” Yorick, comes out OK, but the line disappears. Behind me, a theatrical murmur: “ I knew him well.” Turning around, and there, disappearing in the glare of the glorious sunlight flooding the flat
I sensed my old friend Tom.
His literary hero was Shakespeare and recited him
whenever we had drinks on the table.
I met him in Algarve, he was a semi-retired actor but sometimes had a job in clubs as an entertainer.
He had tried in vain for me to act in his revue, in a comedy role.
Well, if he saw me now he would have laughed.
Jello is a mellow way of filling up a tub
A smashing way of chilling up an ordinary scrub
The jello is a fellow’s way of doing something new
A rock and roll adventure in a musical revue
I chose to pose in jello when I thought that it was keen
To render my devotion to the swinging singles scene
I played around and partied in my polyester clothes
But gentlemen in jello cannot kneel to propose
I trembled in my jello with a universal wish
For peace and understanding in a human petri dish
I thought about the acrobats who never made the flip
Of bouncing on my jello with a bowl of dairy whip
The quality of jello with a cello for a choice
Will make a happy fellow when you bellow with your voice
The jello is a fellow’s way of making something stick
A merry new adventure with a momentary flick
I love to squish my jello with a hello every day
Nothing could be mellow in a more peculiar way
Remember, kindly fellow, when your jello mix is blue
That ladies love to bellow in a jello fix for two.
Written and submitted May 18, 2022, to
A Merger With Food poetry contest
Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg
LIFE SHOULD BE MEANINGFUL:
Welcome to a new day...!
Look at life here on earth today,
It will definitely grow old,someday.
Even if it doesn't ... Just to say,
Then it would die young along the way.
Life is very beautiful,
When it's meaningful.
Moving with deems...,
Growing with dreams.
That was a piece of childhood.
A moment a child wish for adulthood.
Thinking it's all happiness to be an adult.
The reality is blurred so we lay an exult.
Childhood is filled with folly,
Where you only wish for a revue.
It's a jolly,
Where we later make a review.
Stuck with themes...!
Dyeing with schemes.
The chapter of life full of advice.
Where life experiences are apprised,
And mistakes become regrets,
When wasted times lack refrets.
Well,achievements bring fulfillment,
And futility brings disappointment.
Adulthood is braided with maturity,
Where as childhood with absurdity.
Well,age doesn't determines competency,
And appearance never determined by complacency.
Life should be well lived,
To Prevent future grief.
In the mail, a supplication:
Time now to renew.
Your yearly fee for discount tix
Is very shortly due.
I see a lot of Broadway shows
And small productions, too.
The TDF* sells tickets
To boost theatres’ revenue.
Of course, all stages still are dark.
There won’t be a debut
Of any long-awaited drama,
Concert or revue.
And when will I feel comfortable
To crowd in with a slew
Of other theatre-lovers,
Their proximity taboo?
The answer is a big unknown
For I don’t have a clue
When my Broadway visits will resume;
I’ll likely miss my cue.
*Theatre Development Fund
Baby birds cheeping in treetops high, mellow yellow,
Whippoorwills' song when even is nigh, red sunset glow,
Raucous crows in the hot noon sun, deep orange gold,
Humming bees in blazing wildflowers, dark green wold!
Seagulls' elegant glide over pounding surf, royal blue,
Crickets calling through a summer night, a black revue,
Loons hooting across transparent lake, twilight purple,
And cardinal chirps lonely songs, in pink crape myrtle!
Parrots squawk away the sunny hours, of forests green,
Nightingales sing forever and a day, white moonbeams,
Humming bird emblazons the peony bush, pretty pink,
Goldfinch trills on desert bush, as orange sun slinks!
Thoughts about Time & Memory
4/14/2018
As my mind reaches back toward yesterday,
I feel powerless and unprotected,
From intrusive thoughts,
Proceeding from cobwebbed corners;
My mind, is a file, where God stores,
All my previous indiscretions;
In thought, HE allows me to revue,
In reality, HE says I can’t renew, move or edit.
Just be forgiven!
God’s time respects no person,
My clock’s time I can change,
But God’s time continues on uninterrupted,
Until HE declares “lights out”;
Tom
Instead of names, we're often called
By where we do reside,
So, "Hey, New York!" we're greeted with,
A simple ID guide.
Thus Texas, Fresno, Cleveland
And Kentucky we have met
And Arkansas and others
We have not conversed with yet.
A member of the crew, as well,
Who helped us, with delight,
We learned lives now in London
But was from the Isle of Wight.
So later, in the evening,
While we watched a staged revue,
I realized a performer
Was a friendly face I knew.
The singers mingled with the crowd
At their performance end
And thus I had a chance to chat
With my new English friend.
"Hey, Isle of Wight!" I sang out,
"You were great up on that stage!"
He beamed in recognition,
Such a nice way to engage.
Encore
Shadows kiss a world
almost finished with night,
shifting in a slow pool
of inky fingerprints
Faint rustles stir,
not quite seen -
murmurs, not quite heard
A slow drip of light eases
onto the world, washing
away bits of a night
ready to retire to its bed
Night wind is tucked
away for now, as breezes
of a new day congregate
Sun's broad, bright-painted
fingers pull it up until
it can peek into the day,
measuring and planning
its stay
Realizing it is now in charge
day pulls pink threads
into a tether
A drama queen, the sun stages
a reflective revue waiting
for its applause
Smells of living radiate
as sleeping creatures
rouse themselves into
a living tableau
Though day comes after day
in a dazzle of time, twirling,
each day is brand-new
and full of hope
I will never win a spelling be-
but that’s all rite you sea-
I have this grate spell checker
that came with my PC.
It plainly marks for my revue
any spelling errs for me.
I’ve checked this pome
and others to, and its letter
perfect now I no, because
my checker tolled me sew
POM POMS FOR MAUREEN AND JAN
Maureen’s titillating poem, tit for tat.
Excitement of goosebumps,
sure as tease, shown in verse.
She has Jan’s front and back.
An exclamation - a sisterhood shout:
what’s this all about - birds or not?
Unfortunately, my title can’t wink,
smile or rise in peaks of zenith blue.
Two sets of pom-poms fly in my face…
My irreverent revue seeks second place.
4/19/2018
Reference:
Maureen McGreavy’s “POINT FOR EXCLAMATION - FOR JAN
Jan Allison’s “I’VE GOT BLUE ****
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