Short Bleary Eyed Poems

Her cold heart story
floats on bleary eyed Eros
beautiful strange...

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Damn lucky
to be here
bleary eyed
but full
of cheer
count my blessings
I'm alive
to give my toast
of love
for our world....

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I stood there naked in the hall 
Bleary-eyed, as you
Screeched out your fury
I could be on fire for you
But all you do is belch smoke...

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Squinting, straining ocular muscles
  unveils a lonely, battered beacon
astride distant shores, welcome signal
  to weary sailors bleary-eyed...

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Early morning, bleary-eyed
We’re a weaving coffee-carrying crowd
One more sip,  heads bowed
Oh Grief! That train horns loud! 
Sorry! Excuse me!
Opps…Shall we dance?
A frown turns round
Manners & Humour - it's sound...

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Nights infusion
bleary eyed rivals
in Soho tweed
Pharaohs joke was here
Denim clad oxymorons
with spotlight eyes
Archways lean close
as sticks befuddle
their spark of epiphany
A jewelled silence
captures the gangsters in silhouette
Freaks five a penny
prolapse the night...

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Gilded streams tapestry weave
Frothy dew doth pageant aggrieve
Brimming bough wrapped in embroidered sleeve
Withering grass to the denuded soil doth cleave
Translucent sickles glimmer on each availing eve
Bristling ice pelets bleary-eyed cisterns do heave
Mercurial splendor doth summer's monotony relieve
Chilled masses do body's warm circulation deceive...

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SNAKE OIL SUNRISE

coiled lies an oily snake
circling the rim of the cup
eschewing the softness of milk
the sweetness of sugar.
A black hole – waiting – beckoning
the bleary-eyed robot
leaving a scent trail
harsh, uncivilized,
unadulterated,
psyche popping
caffeine. 


11/30/2016

submitted to WAKE UP WITH COFFEE OR TEA CONTEST – Poetry Contest...

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It comes once a year,
A time most looked forward to,
Decorations hung up lights on the tree,
Time to send children to bed,
Santa is due at any time.

Talc footsteps lead to the tree,
Presents underneath,
Mince pie and carrots on a plate, milk in a glass,
It bedtime for the adults now.

Morning comes all to soon,
Been woken with "he's been he's been",
Bleary eyed up you get,
Its Christmas morn....

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the sidewalks turn into rivers
soaking shoes that smack the concrete bottom.
rosy-cheeked and bleary-eyed
you stumble next to me, 
but my steps are meticulous, 
avoiding the writhing worms-
pinkish but corpse-gray on their deathbeds-
a public drowning.
I would stop and carry them to land, 
but you would make an ugly face
and say cruel boy things.
so i sacrifice their lives
for another moment of peace....

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Ivy-covered sheepskin, firmly in hand
    the confident graduate, square-jawed and tan

  Pulled offers from prestigious start-ups all over the land
    a year later he played lead guitar, hat in hand

  He, ever-grateful to his folks for those music lessons
    They, bleary-eyed from all the therapy sessions

  Yet Patience will out, and Time always tells
    Perhaps by thirty-five he'll own an oil well...

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Woke up this morning, looked at the clock
Bleary eyed, thought it read 5:23
Way too early... turned over and went back to sleep
Woke up again which seemed like 10 minutes later
The clock read 7:42
Thought for a moment in my stupor
Holy crap! Gotta get up!
Hey wait a minute... I'm retired
No one's waiting for me to solve any problems
To create a market plan for a new project
My big easy chair awaits... SWEET!...

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Talk to me of War

And ask of me to comment ?

I would do an injustice to put my thought's into words

So I would rather refer you to

Or point you in the direction or ask you to watch 

A black comedy called 

Blackadder Goes Forth

The Final Episode

Set in the Trenches of World War 1

And if you don't come away 

Bleary eyed with your heart and soul not touched

Then nothing I could ever write or say 

Would make the slightest bit of difference anyway...

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Woke up this morning, looked at the clock

Bleary eyed, thought it read 5:23

Way too early... turned over and went back to sleep

Woke up again which seemed like 10 minutes later

The clock read 7:42

Thought for a moment in my stupor

Holy crap! Gotta get up!

Hey wait a minute... I'm retired

No one's waiting for me to solve any problems

To create a market plan for a new product

My big easy chair awaits... SWEET



© Jack Ellison 2014...

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Evening sets with self-delusion
stirring the synapses
with a steaming 
cup of coffee.
A dimly lit oil lamp
shrouded in Saffron 
casts the room in an amber hue
where words meld like gold 
onto the page
		in an alchemic blaze.

Morning rises, dispelling dreams
out of every fold of darkness
to a sterile whiteness
that turning back 
such ingots
into leaden blocks of stone
I wake, both bleary eyed 
and blood shot, into this failed, 
pale bleak
		truth of morning

John Tansey...

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she caresses the parts of my insides
that i need touched
it's a hunger that matches my outside yearn
with ferocity and teeth

but

the windows don't know better-
they reveal a dusty strained light
or a cold lack of.
it leaves me queasy
there's no good season of the day
when it's passing.

everything gets tan and medical white
when the vacation's almost over
i go home bleary eyed sullen with:
dirty socks, upset stomach
three cigarettes, ten dollars
worn underwear and receipts....

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