Short Bunched Poems

Brains Weirdly Bunched

Angel touched and said I was touched;
When he and I had together lunched;
Naughty neurosis;
Plentiful psychosis,
And my brains were weirdly bunched.

Jim Horn...

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Birdies on a branch are cuddled up so fine
Bunched up closer than clothespins on a line
Snoring in sync, a luscious lullaby in a whispery way
The rest of the forest animals cannot look away 
Their mama is gone, says one. Let’s help them to have lots of fun....

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Within without inside out screaming
The pain is unbearable you beasty twit
If you would just lose a leg or an arm

Crippled down bunched up dreaming
Your back is like a rack of ribs on a spit
Shut off this awful belly juggling alarm

Turn up turn out cantankerous filled brain
Take a damn load off before you faint...

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outside writing through my ash
blowing to see the words
misspelt in my dreaming
How lonley    A      the a stands
Hugging i's like ink tree
what fingers hollow
will i fill
tilted head crooked
next line flows like
the bunched satin curls
seeing snowflakes from within
so what words of wanton
will said
juice you...

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In open country
chances are he'll be running.

Knowing the sound of every wind-shift
he'll cradle his life in the rock-a-bye cornsticks
hind legs bunched for the big bolt forward
to spring over runaway ground.

Today, in the photograph
which I have called "Hare Leaping"
he will take forever to complete one bound....

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I have a journey
A journey tomorrow
And a few after tomorrow
My journeys are all bunched up
Ready for me to take them on
But the best part of these journeys
Is the kind souls we meet 
And the amazing stories they tell
And the humble way they live 
Even as the sand of time make me old
I will always be ready for a new journey...

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I looked in the mirror, Oh what a sight
lucky for me it was Halloween night
again I checked my make up was right
no point going out if I wasn't a fright
glad it was dark wouldn't go in the light
when the kids see me it'll be me they invite
to walk down the road bunched all quite tight
collecting some sweets, share them? I might
got a day off tomorrow so may fly my kite......

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A poem I'll write about the delight,

Of the magic light that comes out at night,

Colourful and white and all of them bright,

A heavenly sight all bunched up so tight,

I hope that you might join in on my flight,

The chances are slight that you'll join my plight.

(Ten syllables per line)

For Rhymers Delight contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton.


26~April~2017...

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Tired of hearing;
The names I've been called.
Tired of baggage;
That I've had to haul.
Bunched up in circles;
Living in ruts.
The hostile’s aren't coming;
but we're still breathing dust

Once I captured a monarch;
That was floating by me.
Now I can't stop the bleeding;
and I hope no one see's
The foolish the jokers;  
Myself as the worst.
Now treading through seasons;
In a life that seems cursed....

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You such as tired horses! 
Running between the spirit of trees; 
Then absconding - such as four Doves 
To distant clouds  

You Oh 'Orville’s' mountains 
As you are on the ground, 
Glorified in heaven! 
  
And you O Plains 
Where the trees bunched  
Like doves, cooing with songs 
And brighten like a pebble into brook 
 
You O 'Elijah' plains  
You a witness ,never know what war is!
And what the mystery of death!...

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short-eared durham owl
meditating over the dale's edge,
shadows the fields and folds
in elegant diurnal flight.

on windside,careful sight
may swoop to prey
and away.

your yellow broad-eyed look,
at once both sharp and distant,
holds me.
oh,silence,
oh ,wind on green,
oh. earth,
sky.

immense your held vision,
sphere without centre,
pied geometer of flight,
sketch your descent and ascent.

trees bunched by dry stone wall
call heart home....

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Silently whistling down the sidewalk,
The autumn leaves take their daily stroll.
Further and further away they go, the closer they get. 
Speed walking on the concrete slab,
They feel a gust of wind pushing them.
Ironically, a leaf blower rounds them together.
Their stroll ends, as they are bunched into the black plastic bag.
A different stroll is coming; the landfill is near.
They spend their last months together, decomposing away....

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Her wrinkles were joy-flecked twinkled
with facial lines brightly smile crunched.
Her eye shade vague, but love sprinkled
from decades of holding faith bunched.
She prayed steady,
her praise ready.

Her giggle rendered me tickled.
Her heart-ways raised me cherish-touched.
Loving my Gram much, tears trickled
the morning I found her death clutched.
Not one gray hair
lacked my despair.








March 10, 2018...

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