The museum basement smells of ozone and pressed violets. I am cataloging a shipment of Victorian automatons, specifically the clockwork songbirds. Their mechanisms are intricate, tiny gears of brass that mimic a pulse, a heartbeat. They don’t sing, of course—only whir. My job is to ensure the silence of the dead. But last night, one of them turned its head toward the moonlight, a single, sharp click echoing against the concrete, and for a second, I swore the gears were bleeding oil. The curator told me to oil them again.
a small brass pinion
in the palm of my cold hand
starts to tick faster
Once too I hung on the brink
listening to the melancholy cry of seagulls,
their white bodies strewn out like prayer flags,
tiny on the surface of the sea.
Wishing I could cast all of life's pain away,
a heavy shipment of regrets and shattered promises,
let it all sail far away.
In a desolate harbour enlightened only by the moon,
a lone shadow casts itself onto the weed-strewn pavement.
Feet itching to move but the brain with no destination to speak of.
Flee to the sea or hide at home?
Once too I stood on that abyss,
always wondering about the end
yet never of creating a new beginning.
Poets question why our heart aches,
pessimists say we've long forgotten our dreams,
I ask why I wake up every morning.
Until you made me understand.
Your smile, ethereal beams of light,
breaking through the morning frost of night.
Your voice, a beckoning bell.
Like a child, learning how to walk,
I stumble and crawl away from the darkness.
You called upon happiness from the depths of my heart
where I didn't know it could ever exist.
There’s an odd thief in our neighborhood
Who steals stuff that he must think is good
Beginning with my small bushes and trees
Which at the start, made no sense to me
Then parts of my fence suddenly disappeared
And a pile of firewood was totally cleared
Yet when most of my porch pickets were gone
It was time to dispense some fighting brawn
By taking some sort of drastic action
For our family needed some satisfaction
Yet the next day he stole lawn sport’s equipment
And a stack of pallets fresh from a shipment
The following day when I got home from work
My front door was ajar; from that crooked jerk
Who oddly took walking sticks and umbrellas
Which confirmed this thief was a strange fella
Since I was so ticked, I left to ponder the scam
Then I saw on a side road a new beaver dam
Amidst the prairie sits this cobbled-up dome
Built with those good things smuggled from our home
Our prairie was treeless, devoid of beaver
Until this thieving one, which was a great weaver
And to top it off, I was totally floored
Coz its lodge was crowned with our head board!
He's a Presbyterian Elder
By occupation Car Welder:
If you don't mind: Welder Elder,
By choice in the job, not fell there...
Fellow Elders for the good air,
Easy to find them in nice wear,
Grudging not a perfumed hair,
With two good cars and still a spare...
So, special: this Welder Elder,
Doting Husband of Emelda,
User of the job's Equipment.
Likely seeker of a shipment;
To the tasks truest commitment
Like Lord God's Eleventh Commandment...
A Charles resting much on shoulder
Fellow Elders sure a boulder.
I will take that and that and that too
Hand me everything, and quickly.
I will take it all thank you,
because my greed is fierce
and I do not share.
Why would I? No one has ever helped me.
You will hand it back right now
I am pulling out weapons to make sure.
I am stockpiling and hoarding
because I have to think of me, and only me.
No one else ever has.
I am living proof of that.
Division is not something I will allow.
These items will not be yours
I am keeping this entire shipment
for myself.
No one else matters.
At the MC1R Mutation Station
Like everywhere else, we’re fighting inflation
This economy sure does take it’s tolls
A few cutbacks, but within regulation
Just to meet our minimum sales goals
We started shipping product without any souls
They may also come with a few freckles less
Not many noticed, according to our polls
We tried to ship faster to boost our success
With a new promo called the ginger express
Still not as quick as that hot-tempered mail man….
His delivery speed is one to impress
In a cost saving effort for our new plan
The current shipment will only burn and not tan
They can, although, make their own vitamin D
Saves on natural sun light for their life span
There was a shipping error at the factory
The Emerald Isle put in an order you see
We shipped 10 times the amount there instead
They’ll stay as per our no return policy
We soon hope to put these cutbacks to bed
Our product really is as great as they’ve said
Industry led in all things chic and unique
This brand new batch of clever, feisty, redhead
For all fellow Redheads that have trouble with automatic doors, cheers!
Shining-shimmering shoes should something
Shirley shopped at Shalanee’s shoe shop.
She should have not shopped with shy Shay who
only shops shorty-shorts at the shopping mall and
shoots gold at Sharon’s pawnshop.
Shirley could have shared a pair of sheering shoes with Shandy
if it wasn’t for Sheena who shamelessly
showed her shocking-shindy shopping spree
manic shimmying for a Penshoppe…
Shivering Shirley should have shopped to Shoppee;
shipped Shandy's shiny shoes and pays the shipment fee
instead of shopping with Shay and Sheena
who shadowed and shrilled her shopping “Shoe” day.
A vessel sets off from the Cape of Despair.
A brown girl of ten is the tiniest shipment.
They’re fed up with the indigenous misery.
They sold everything, enchanted by the
traffickers’ fake promises. Their migratory
dreams leap like the kangaroos. But Australia
is beyond the likely maelstroms and cyclones.
They conquer hunger with the dry fruits and
resist the chill with their will. Diesel and their
energy run out. They’re fast asleep beneath
the blanket of fatigue. Soon they vanish within
a gigantic turbulent wave. They find another
version of the world, where there are neither
borders nor flags. They wander in the blue
woods with peeping blackbucks. Red-striped
snakes float in the fragrance of the night blooms.
Ecstasy is ejaculated. None of them feel any sense
of loss. Food is no longer a haunting thought.
They enjoy true charms in pure freedom.
Life is beautiful beyond the mystery of death.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
Behind the lively discourse is to fill the placement
Lovely familiarity before the main statement
After gallivanting the parlor is the pavement
Nice conversation, just void of any argument
Direct intentions, hidden in sweet scenting fragments
Indirect message, passing through a nice compartment
Sentences, garnished in honey for any treatment
High is the soul, not knowing of a waiting shipment
Mere praises, soaked in the bloated tales of achievement
Each applause, a segment to land into the moment
Not a clue, what is coming as the main part augments
Talk for loyalty, the formula for some government
Silver is made gold in words to push for a movement
It is pointless to write with dull pencils
When a pen keeps the sheep safe at night.
And water can flow from a hole in the ground
As long as the spring’s not too tight.
Cargo is sent from a shipyard
But a shipment can go out by car.
A wise man is often superior
But a wise guy is usually subpar
Tonight I will drive down the parkway,
Yet park in the driveway at home.
No wonder I can’t speak this language
It only makes sense in a poem!
© Dean Wood
Oct. 26, 2017
Do you know what burns my ass, my friends
A three foot high flame, setting fire to my Depends
Thought they were fire resistant
Guess mine were a defective shipment
Panic set in as the flames did ascend
Crossing the mighty ocean wide
Flinty, determined soul was she
Longing to be Sugar Daddy's bride.
In her homeland, none could see
Any good qualities that be
Maybe if there was a dowry
A marriage could have been arranged
He did not know there was a bounty
Nor that his bride quite deranged
And all his money to be exchanged
His bride was on the passenger ship
Her baggage aboard Lockheed C-5 Galaxy
That should have been a signal ~relationship snip
The wedding over, destruction casually
set in, his funds transferred rampantly
Out of words
I ran out of words
so I stopped at the store
and searched every aisle and row
Pushing my cart
with a wobbling wheel
just trying to keep with the flow
Green beans and cold cuts
and dishwasher soap,
cartons of squeezed orange juice
Deodorant, hot dogs,
steak by the pound,
napkins and farm fresh produce
Chocolate chip cookies,
a magazine stand,
broom handles right over there
Two percent milk,
light bulbs and duct tape,
prices galore to compare
But there were no words
no, none I could use
to write you a poem today
No phrases on sale,
not a verse on the shelf
or flowery thoughts on display
I asked at the counter,
then chased down a clerk
hoping a few I could find
Fresh out of stock,
we’re waiting a shipment
I sighed and I said never mind
So I bought a pen
and a Big Chief notebook,
there was nothing else I could do
And scribbled these words
as I walked to my car
that simply did say…I love you
Finkle Rat and Derby Cat
Opened up a specialty shop
Which was running rather smoothly
Till kids teeth began to rot
For what it was they sold were
Candy apples, Sugar Cubes, and Lemon Drops
With Fizzie Soda to make their quota
On the loaner they had got
You see the latest shipment of Fizzies
Came from the loan shark Marco Mole
To save themselves a buck or two
Our naive friends both sold their souls
And Marco doesn't care about
Any kids or their rotten teeth
Cause he also owns a piece of Charlie Cockroach
The dentist down the street
I’m looking for a simple rhyme that works
in something complicated, dry, and deep.
A masterpiece without too many qwerks.
Something alive and tart that I might keep.
I’m sorry sir we’re out of simple rhymes.
We have a shipment coming in from Prague.
Give me your address. I’ll send them soon.
There’s some off beat slanted rhymes in aisle five.
I think I’ll check my files and drawers back home.
Amazing how a simple rhyme gets lost
among the stuff we need to make a poem.
Pick out a few and let me know the cost.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.