Short Aer Poems

sunglasses protect deep green eyes
an Aer Lingus cap protects a fair, Irish nose
SPF 50, slathered generously, protects my skin
from the sun’s bright, harmful rays

my heart, protected by the strong bones of the chest wall,
layers of dermis, and by my swimsuit top
blisters with a third degree burn...

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my eye's aer the enemy's eye's 
stigma of the spoiler
invador of lands and bodies,
who left behind his eyes
chameleon like their shades 
mock my indian heratige pride
don't play with cat eye's 
go away evil eye's
those taunts forged my hate
for the tainter has gone to hell
i must pay for that wretches sins
my eye's are his and his eyes are mine....

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So much water, so much iron
Alas, no gold, but copper by the ion
Glows in my skin late summer days
And tastes of blood and flint and maize


Taste my salt, my spit, my hair
Breath my tender air, my mollis aer
Anoint me with a cloak of sweat
And with my sword I will beget


The earthy side of me, you see
Nickel, zinc, ah, yet no mercury
Take my dirt, my earth, my stones
Build a castle with my bones.

21Mar14...

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There once was a Chihuahua named Hairy
Wispy as air, white his hair, and scary
Like a ghost he'd appear
Quiet, soft as cashmere
Sometimes it seems he's dropped from the aerie 

aerie( aer-y or ey-rie) 1.  a lofty nest of any bird...2.   a house, fortress, or the like. located high on a hill or mountain

Inspired by: Team Poetry Soup
Contest: Funny Kid's Poem Contest
Written: October 09, 2015...

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DID ewe love 
DID ewe love 
 
 
Did ewe love mee more 
than the day before? 
Love grows inside of sorrow 
at the past come back to haunt us. 
But even so 
eye am manly also 
not confused of this my gender 
 ewe aer love fashioned out of time 
  to make me love 
creative people suffer more 
Don't you think? 
they are more sensitive 
sadness and hidden sorrow 
mixes with the love. 
TO make us love the more 
to make us love the love....

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The fire is under us both.
"The POT is black", the kettle confides.
"The kettle is hot", answers pot.
"I have carotts inside here", says POT.
"Potatoes aer my specialty", says kettle.
"You must be very hot my carott POT".
"OH My kettle, so aer you to make potatoe soup".
The fire is under us both.
"Why do ye call me black"?
"Attack" says kettle.
"You call me hot, OH now I`m boiling over".
Says POT, "I am simmering hot".
The fire is under us both.
The kettle and the POT....

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