While preparing for my five-day holiday, I chanted, Yo ho ho ho!
As I packed most important thing, I was in full whistling jaw
So many stuffs to take, didn’t know what bag could make
Shifting taste left my first girl-things inside an unchosen portmanteau.
As I finally landed to a delightful holiday scenery far, far away
I tried to enjoy a whole-day tour ‘though uneased at first red bay
With nudging ebb, running through jeans and winter clothes
I ricked my leg and nose… limited smiles to dazzling view array
So many places to go with lots of panorama to see and meet
But feeling restless ‘till sunset, with porous pads I needed flag retreat
The first night I checked in a hotel, I nastily worried and panicked
Nowhere to find my gears… unbudgeted, I paced three at night market
I was going around cool places in a bus, but didn’t climb a tower
When shopping beauty- foods started, I was thinking of hotel hair blower
To dry up my wet gears in manteaux ‘till midnight before another day
That’s my biggest disaster but I’d survived like I was in a House of Big Brother.
Oct. 21, 2016 1. 45am
Day by day, passing that sign
piqued my interest. Curiosity
grew stronger . . . had to check it out.
I drove down Green House Road.
The gravel spread on asphalt dinged
a symphony underneath.
I drove slowly, looking . . .
searching for the green house.
I saw pines, cedars, elm trees
and firewood, ricked and tarped
beside a vacant lot.
Old cars were hidden behind
an eight foot picket fence.
Lettered signs read:
Private - KEEP OUT
DEAD END - No Outlet
I did not drive down the side road,
marked by 15 mailboxes.
Swing sets and metal awnings
adorned white houses.
But no green house.
POSTCARD
P ouring through an old box I foun D,
O ne postcard, THE postcard, from last Novembe R.
S uch an innocuous front, with its Chinese pagod A,
T ricked me into thinking it was something Romanti C .
C onsequently your words, laced with arsenic, poisoned my unprepared hear T,
A s you confessed you didn’t love me, in ALL CAPS, for everyone to witnes S.
R eading it again, before I ripped it to shreds, it was all I could do not t O
D rown in memory's tra P.
6/15/11
(double acrostic and shape poem)
(last line used to be "down a forbidden nightcap", then revised as above.)
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