Short Allotment Poems

No
man's land-
allotment
between micro
climes...

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Two boys were fishing when they met a willing broad
The first boy quickly extended his fishing rod
And so, when he was done
She saw the other one
Who had already caught his allotment of cod.

written July 21, 2021...

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Ee wor at allotment an we planned to surprise im.
Ee came ome mumblin summat abaat bein forgot.

We ad allsorts on’table and id underneath it.
Surprise! We all yelled when ee walked in.

It were great fun and Grandpa said is eyes were sore,
Sometimes they run ee said.

Pauline Connelly...

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dusty drips drooling
inky lits lurching
felon fits fostering
callous contractions cupping
Haggard how hankering
oily oceans assembling

nocturnal nature nimbling
fiery feelings seducing
airy allotment amputating

bounty pulses puncturing
severed seals smirking
damp dark dancing

multifarious means metamorphosing
all transcending tottering.
     20:01:19:09:18...

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Jack Frost came earlier this year,
After a long, warm, summer was over,
Coming with windblasts and frozen rain,
Keeping all of us running for cover.

Fall was not given her allotment of days 
Reserved for her on the year's calendar.
Objections from her have been ignored.
Snow and ice are seen everywhere.
Tough Winter has grabbedl an unfair share.

Written November 29, 2015...

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time is a moment, a second, a minute
   an hour, day, month, year, years
a heartbeat
the past, the present
it is a season in nature
the allotment of our life
     the clock tick, ticking
the calendar turning
it is once upon a time      memories
time frozen in a photograph
   a pause, interval, juncture in our journey
time to write in a diary     a journal
                 time to reflect
life ......

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We enter this world with an allotment of time in our account,
We have no guarantee of the duration of this precious commodity.
Though it is priceless, it can be neither bought nor sold.
We can measure time, waste time or use our time.
But time cannot be stored; so before we leave this life.
All of the time in our account will have been spent.
As years go by our time becomes more valuable.
So daydream a little and spend your time well....

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Our years are fated…
Maria’s allotment was short
But no less special
Each moment becoming pregnant
With what time would not allow
Each new hour
The measuring stick
Of what would never occur

In a bed and a room
Where only wishes and dreams 
Last
To never grow into memories
Fate would not permit
Her life to become less precious
As the deceptive future
  —steals tomorrow from today

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)...

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(Double Nonet)


Drops
Rain drops
Touching breeze
From the dawn sky
With the smiling clouds
Splashing sovereign sleep
Around the dreamy bed of life
Amphan ungratefully offered
Affliction within flowing tension
Sleep breaker vaccination in sane
Love in strikingly free daydream
Transient nurture greets bliss
Windstorm of the relief
In allotment shield
Coughing up high
Rates of loss
In science
Cry

21.05.2020 Chattogram...

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Our years are fated….
Maria’s allotment was short
But no less special,
Each minute becoming pregnant
With what time would not allow,
Each new hour
Becoming the measuring stick
Of what would never occur

In a bed and a room
Where only wishes and dreams 
Last
To never grow into memories,
Fate would not permit
Her life to become less precious,
As the deceptive future
Steals tomorrow from today

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)...

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When I pick up Sweet Williams
And inhale their spiced perfume,
I see them on the windowsill
Of our tiny old back room.

Their sweet indented petals,
Coloured every shade of pink,
Glowed so bright in that urban gloom
They almost made me blink.

They’d grown on Dad’s allotment – 
An expanse of air and sun – 
Along with fruits and vegetables 
He brought home for my Mum.

Sweet Williams bring it home to me
I’m still the child I used to be....

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I have been Intrusted with knowledge! 
Completely incrusted with time,
Admirably holding onto wisdom,
Lost for thousands of generations. 
Set free like the busting of Hoover dam.
Overflowing rapids of life altering thoughts,
Of all the great thinkers,
Hoarded up condensing it’s
Own energy from all periods past.
Released to flush the poor unsuspecting main frame for the universal nervous system, 
Of yet another victim of time.
By Desi E. Sherman...

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