Short Crinkling Poems

WHAT??? - Senryu

devilish smiles
candy wrapper evidence
crinkling in pockets


John G. Lawless
©11/1/2018...

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i have a craving today
my tongue salivates
a crinkling yellow bag
i tear it open
salty and sour
potato
chips...

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two wrinkled faces
                                        found a crinkled billet doux 
                                         smiled with crinkling eyes...

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I listened
It had started
A soft crinkling
Of dry leaves
Pirouetting
Across the field
Leaping into the wind
Spiraling sails
Adrift
On a sea of blue
I bid them
adieu...

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Crinkling hands, outstretching for last comfort
Rusty speckles, sentience all soaked up
Trunk limbs sapped veins on close up
Scented leaves bow before court
Autumn curtain falls, a seasonal sport...

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The leaves dancing on the trees. The crinkling steps, the gusts, the natural silence. The unimposing mountains. Laze. Existence that validates itself. Ephemeral, cyclical, beautiful. An old distant friend that you may never truly know. 

I love you because what else would I do...

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Birds are gone to sleep
Lulled by the silence of trees
Frigid with frost

Snow carpet landscape
Cushions the noise of speeding cars
Frightening lizards

Sunset falls seaward
To come over the mountain 
In crimson clothes still

The sea has old face
Crinkling change in folds of skin
The wind cannot pass...

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In a faraway corner
my boredom
plays tricks with sanity
I hear every noise
see every shadow
the walls are like paper
crinkling
I watch the dust
slowly fall from the fan
in a circular motion
into extinction
I can hear my heart beat
the quietness overcomes me
with nothing to do
I snuggle into a fetal ball
and close my eyes...

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The kitchen radio rumbles heavy drumbeat,

outside, rain pecks out its staccato

on the porch.

Stirring fragrant coffee,

I ponder doing dishes, starting laundry,

pause to glance at him.

Across from me,

his eye-crinkling smile

liquefies all my resolve.

Oh, listen

to that insistent rain

ans heartbeats drumming....

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I know a little girl with eyes so blue,
She's very lovely too.
She melts my heart when she looks 
at me.  
She's got the cutest little way of crinkling 
her nose,
Her little cricket smile makes me smile 
too.
One of the happiest baby girls I've ever
known,
And that alone makes me know I'm doing this
parenting thing right.
The best part of all, is I get to call her 
mine....

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The pages crease and cry when I turn them
and read the words written there, and
I wonder of the person who wrote them
as I admire the fancy scroll within
the faded blue ink of the fountain pen.

There is no binding,
no staples, 
nothing to hold the sheets together,
for this is only a draft,
a yellowed pile of memories
gathering dust,
moaning and crinkling
before they fragment
and disappear back into the past....

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Cooking with garlic and oil
Chopping peppers and chives
Crinkling aluminum foil
Running water over dirtied knives

Cutting boards strawberry stained
Slicing apples and poaching pears
Steamy facials from pasta drained
Sizzling pops like lightning flares

Piping a French buttercream rosette
Cracking eggs with no loose shell
Waiting for lime jello to set
But nothing beats the most delicious smell

The scent of vanilla...

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 it's quiet on the lake right now
sun sliding down from it's perch
as I watch with mixed feelings
from a pew in nature's church

enjoying the paint splashed sky
reflected across water's mirror
content smile crinkling my face
for a moment thoughts clearer

before memories drop blinders
overtop my respite briefly won
causing me to bitterly inquire
of what interest
is a sunset
for one?...

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It Was Only a Dream

The days of rush and running;
The airport, the hugs the drive.
Our special gourmet lunch place.
It was only a dream.

The twinkling lights, pajama nights,
Planning presents, paper crinkling.
Lingering laughter, long goodbyes.
It was only a dream.

Breakfast out and you’re gone.
Time is rolling along.
I know it was only a dream 
Of sun spent days, but…

Your forgotten present lies on the couch....

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Your life is poetry— 
whether words make it 
on a page, a screen, an ear, 
 
whether messages 
or moments 
meet the light of dawn, 
parturition processed 
sourced from the dusk 
of fears and hopes. 
 
You are ebbs 
you are flows— 
you are metaphors 
blooming till they grow feeble 
crinkling into fallen flowers, 
meeting millipedes 
meeting mess— 
to grow again 
anew—stalks sturdy— 
hope an approaching fire 
Flower, 
Locus, 
Living....

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   Almost Halloween
   The candy is back
   Crinkling paper
   Lots in a sack
   Intended for children
   Who come by in droves
   The candy must stay
   But it tweaks my nose
   

   Every year we go through this conundrum
   What should I do
   What will I eat
   The thought of candy
   Tugging my tongue
   Melting chocolate 
   Maybe just one

   Then five pieces later
   Stomachs a roar
   Still looking forward to just one more...

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The wave breaks soft yellow tinged
Slow rising on the hoar frost night
Thickened sap retreats in weakened sun

And yet the leaves rejoice in nature’s call
Party hats and favors drape them all
In windblown timpani they fall

Lay their warming truth upon tree roots
Join their crinkling souls in vibrant quilt
Last refuge of the mole and shiv’ring slugs 

The wave will break, in raving red display
As squirrels bid adieu and idly play
Fall’s tide will ebb and take the leaves away...

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