The windows have been shut for days
So I cannot begin
To comprehend exactly how
A fly has gotten in.
The A/C’s working overtime
To counteract the heat
And though we’ve ventured out at times,
We beat a fast retreat.
It’s possible, I guess, that fly
Did hitchhike on our clothes
Or maybe in a shopping bag
Or someplace no one knows.
No matter how he made it in,
The next time he is sighted,
The swatter will be on the move,
‘Cause he was not invited!
What a joke, to live in the foreign land
Can’t go from here, and I can’t stay
Still I can enjoy to a great extent
Little wonders of this beautiful day
Beneath the lilac trees in full bloom
I sit near home on the bench, idly gazing
At the sunlit lilacs, inhaling their perfume
Oh the bittersweet note feels amazing
How exciting that moments of peace still come!
What a thrill to get some contraband sun!
I can beat an imaginary snare drum
Without efforts required for the real one
I’ve a loophole to slip into secret life
In your pleasant country or anywhere else
I won’t make any kind of political strife
Won’t throw my coins in the wishing wells
I’ve got a shopping bag at my foot
In a moment I’ll get up and go upstairs
Maybe I haven’t done the best I could
Do it better, and let me know if you care.
The weather got cold. He went out on the town -
a duck bought a new jacket of down.
He made his selections. His shopping bag full -
a sheep bought a new coat of wool.
He swiveled his head. His eyes went down the rack -
a crow found only suits colored black.
“Do you mind if I take this seat youngster?” the old fart said with a smile. He could not. The seat in question was reserved for my plastic shopping bag. Though the bag was only holding two cans of Sprite and a tin of mints, I still felt that it was worthy of its own seat. I had never met the man before, yet I had become well acquainted with the plastic bag as I browsed the aisles of Coles. “Nah, sorry Mate” I responded. As we drove off, the old man struggled to keep his balance due to the buses swaying nature. I giggled aloud.
when i got home from school
my mother was watching
oprah again
with a shopping bag
of ice on her knee
when i asked her
what happened
she said
“i dont want to talk about it”
and later i found out
she was working out
to a tae bo dvd
when her knee
popped out of her socket
and nobody was home
and she doesnt drive
and she had no friends
so she had to pop it
back into her socket
herself and she said
it was the worst day
of her life
Avoiding the girl-scouts
with their cookies.
I hasten out of the store.
I am too soft now to wait
for a bus
in the dead of winter.
It's a fragility, it is a lassitude,
it’s a small uncertain privilege.
Shoes laced together,
hang from power lines.
I drive by,
car windows locked.
Walking with a full shopping bag
in the dark and cold
- an old woman.
I would probably frighten her
if I offered a lift.
I drive on by.
I came upon some blueberries
While strolling through a country woods.
So big, so plump and very ripe
And they were growing all around.
I was amazed that no one had
Yet come by here and picked them all.
So, from my pocket I took out
A shopping bag and set about
To pick as many as I could
Before the sun of day went down.
But, when I turned they’d disappeared
And they were no where to be found.
I could not believe my two eyes
That they were there and now were gone.
But, that was it and my secret
I’ve never told a soul but you.
W.C.Hull © 2020-14-7-WCH-2-22
W.C.Hull © 2020-14-7-H1481-2591-I53-K53-4-L61-4
In muddled games of 'hide and seek'
Announcing past stuff I recall
Recollecting states of hand me downs
Where I am never sure at all
Conversations in my childhood
My only clue those photographs
A comic book of joke existences
Long day summer blue-sky laughs
Now that I come to think of it
As more and more I try to do
These misty steamed up memories
No longer let me think them through
How do I know what makes me up
Among my route maps misdirected
Like headlines of my past passed by
In cutting rooms of things rejected
A shopping bag less missing items
Where absent minds can’t repossess
Something needed from that other room
I know not what and cannot guess
"Haunting Fruits and Innocent Wish"
Once I wish to be in a Souk
In search of some grapes and Fruits
On the way, I saw a poor woman with her kid
She bought him a couple of dates and fruits
On having made his wish good
Satiated he was , and in a happy mood
Peeping through the shopping bag, kinda shocked I was
Full of spoiled and rotten fruits it was
In a fit of pain and sudden burst of intense emotion
In my eyes, an outpouring of tears and emotion ,there was
Chasing her up , I walked fast behind her
Owing to the rush, from the scene I missed her
But the memory still haunts me to this day
Feeling of regret, I cannot get out of my head
(Muhammad Imtiaz[Jan-2017]: Based on a true encounter with a poor but self -esteemed Lady, who did not beg for fulfilling an innocent kid's wish )
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10209150904209715&set=a.4719067274634.1073741825.1833114999&type=3
Night,
Out on my porch.
The orange glow from the street lights
Flicker through the deep blue hue.
Looking down, I catch myself fiddling, winding the ties belonging to the recycled plastic shopping bag in my clutch.
I wonder why street lights are orange.
Are they supposed to mimic the ‘slow down to stop’ orange traffic light?
I’m dawdling.
Must hurry. Deposit this bag and its contents in the rubbish bin under the orange light.
“You dropped your bag”.
Zone in fast, orange to green, so to speak.
Focusing, I see someone in the orange glow.
We both stand looking down at the soiled nappies exposed by a tear,
In the bag.
“How old”? A jovial jest.
Confident that they're wondering about the age of the nappy wearer.
“24” I reply.
“Aww 24 months”? They assume.
“No, 24 years”.
Red, means stop then.
An erotic lettuce leaf. Strip. Then consume. Consumption of consummation is quite colourful in a layered green hue. But how often barbarians liberate barbeques with a token. How quite unfortunate for a flame to flambé. But nevertheless horseradish soup is extremely lovely at this time of year. Especially when tied to a tree. Tether well the cantering ones. In canopies. In classes. Fresh glasses are only an option in queue b and queue a often receives free unsolicited junk mail at ten a m. Do not judge a deviant monster of a mobile mob. For adjusted adjudication is best left to apples. In skirts. With very pink lips that bubble. Sitting on a time bomb is not wise. Over a decade. Over a drawing. And how quite entertaining it is to run around and around and around carrying a silver shopping bag with a golden handle. Great. Fantastic isn't it. Staffing steering steeples showing showery showerheads. And an exciting journey for a tiny little dog at the five million acre fun fair. Hahaha and how cutely arranged are the small onions leaping down the highway. Wow. Xxxxx curvaceous carrot creates calligraphy. Xxxxx demoralised Z no p y q today just Z
scrubbing with her hands
red stains from the priest's collar
- strawberry picking
choosing wallpaper -
the red-breasted cardinals
in my shopping bag
Last night of harvest -
reflection of red blood moon
in his empty glass
red cherry blossoms
before next winter follows
-his last picnic morn
soft vermillion wings
flutter on her bare shoulder
- the first glimpse of Spring
Its vermillion wings
perching between rose petals
sips of ambrosia
scarlet wings flutter
upon a dry corolla
unsweetened nectar
Inspired by Silent One 's haiku /senryu 5//7/5 syllables
using the colour red - not for the contest
Tap tap play dough
ice-cream and rainbow
Grandma took us to Don Valley
To get some ribs for Aunt Sally
We went to the butcher's shop
There,we saw bees buzz buzz buzz
"Hello busy bee! How are you today?
How’s life? Is your hive making okay?"
Golden ball frowned and yelled at me
Stretched his wings and pointed his stinger at me
With his eyes blue as sky
He stared into my little eyes
I could see that he was angry
Hadn’t found my greetings so much friendly
I threw my ice-cream at him
I think I kinda squashed that thing
I screamed and jumped up and down
My grandma swiping her handmade gown
She banged my head with her shopping bag
I trembled and fell on dozens of beef stacks
More bees were coming for me
All for a small talk I did
Grandma grabbed me from my neck
Hurry! Hassled out of the mess I made
I shook my pants and stumbled
Tried to avoid the stares and mumbles
Lumps and bruises all over me
"I will never make friends with a bumble bee!"
Had she looked back at me
Even for just a second ...
Our encounter might have been the stuff of tabloid frenzy.
But she left quickly a coffee in one hand,
A shopping bag in the other,
And I waited for my turn next in line.
I’m in your reign
You command thunder
And stir lightning
I’m in your ring
Working nine to five
Sweating for your love
I’m in your train
It’s a one-way ticket
A nonstop trip babe
I’m in your hair
Like tropical breezes
And I’m stung
===============
I’m in your rain
You command respect
And I soak in every word
I’m in your eye
I’m your apple
You take a bite
I’m in your head
And I’m lost
Out of my mind
In your shopping bag
Pinned to the bottom
Of your love’s spree
===============
I’m in your debt
You shop…shop
Until I drop
I’m in your pocket
Soaking wet
In the washing
I’m in our ship
Walking the plank
Oh my captain
I’m in your heart
Oh what luck
I found love
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