Short Eke Out Poems

One stifling hot day an empty sky tries to eke -  out  - tears, but can – not

all of a sudden
gray clouds gather and thicken . . .
a downpour explodes

As if for gladness heaven weeps.
One lone frog through a puddle leaps.
Small creatures take it all in stride;
beneath large bushes many hide....

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A.R. Ammons on the mound
Auden on the mound
Ginsberg on 1st
Frost on second
Carl Sandburg on third
Ferlinghetti at short
Right Field - Wordsworth
Left field - Shelly 
Blake - Center field
Shakespeare  - Catcher
Have I dropped enough 
names for you?
What's so bad about
being a name dropper?
The game is on 
Unfortunately my team 
is losing
But with poetic talent
They may yet
Eke out a victory
Postscript  - They just won!...

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Think back, way back
  to days of yore
The simplest things today
  were such demanding chores

Bake bread from scratch
  Slaughter a chicken
Salt it and drain the blood
  Fetch the well-water
Trudge through rain and mud

Sew and knit all your clothes
  Cut the firewood and keep it lit
Wash and press laundry by hand
  Eke out a living from stubborn land

We often say that life was less complex back then
  ~ Though we can't tell a chicken from a hen...

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MISTY   RAIN

Rain  washes my  mind  and my  memory;
Pain and heartache  remain  - but dilute.
Stain removal  forever  is  impossible; 
Reign of tears is over, but  my soul is mute.


Eke out  memories that still exist,  though meek :     
Cheek  feathered by her soothing  breath  so  missed,  
Speak her name,  imagine a shower of  her  kisses as 
Weak  end  of  downpour  yields  to mist.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Written for Rick Parise's  Contest 	LENTO POETRY...

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on a sweltering day, I watch the sky
as it tries to eke out tears. . . . 
but it simp ly   can    not

drenched in sweat, too stifled even to stir,
I see grey clouds gathering -
then suddenly explode!

sheets upon sheets of rain come pounding down -
freed, I stand smiling beneath. . . . 
as heaven weeps for joy

Written 7/15/11
For P.D's BEST RAIN POEM Contest

(This is a form called Kimo. Kin to haiku, 
each Kimo has three lines with count 10/7/6)...

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I ask why I live in a flask
To hide my pride 
To chide and deride every task
Better to stem my indifference tide.

I ask why I feed on crumbs
To lead a life lost in poverty
To bite and fight my own thumbs
When in style I can bask in novelty.

I ask why I love in secret
To osculate in dark corners
To communicate like an egret
To conceal my amity antennas.

I ask why I earn peanuts
To eke out a meagre living
To metamorphose friends into butts
Of my banter when I need forgiving....

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