Short Frill Poems

The cold sun’s anemic arc, 
    skirts the day with crystal frill. 
    Prancing just above the pines,   
       sun dogs wag their tails. 

                14 Jan 2022...

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We took a tin of tea to town 
To play and picnic in the park 
As carefree children chased the clown 
And danced and dodged all day till dark. 

The simple sounds of silence still 
Were happily inside my head 
When freely formed from fright and frill - 
Before the beauty broke and bled....

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Aqua's Kind of Blue in Green

Cool white edge wave frill
Floats over aqua's blue green
Deep blue penumbra

First posted 30/1/2015
Haiku did not originally have titles, they were numbered instead,
From what I originally learnt about the format.
Aqua M poetry.
"Kind of Blue." Miles Davis.
I love listening to Jazz....

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H-ard act to follow, 
A-n exceptional lady wins; 
K-now her secret to success, 
I-t's her hope that begins. 
M-ore good lessons to learn from her superior skill; 
A-ugust twenty-fifth day, it's difficult to equal her frill. 

C-ertify the big shot, 
A-s it's tough to match her shadow; 
L-ady of such excellence 
I-s a hard act to follow....

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A-s you wake from slumber, 
R-ising beacon brings light; 
I-t's a wonderful Tuesday, 
E-ver fresh morn is in 
S-ight. 

P-ouring rain disappears, 
O-ne new dawn has broken; 
N-o place for dusk and chill, 
T-wilight has just hidden. 
E-arly sun is burning bright, 
J-anuary twenty-fourth day; 
O-ne achievement is seen in the cap's frill display....

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It's such a thrill to hear the trill
Of birds up in the trees.
The notes just spill from every bill
In melodies to please.

With every frill the backyards fill,
A concert most delightful.
Their innate skill means hearers will
Perk up at every biteful.

We know the drill - they'll sing until
They stop; it isn't for us.
Then all is still and we would kill
To hear just one more chorus....

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The toppling hyacinth,
Excitedly bursting at every corner
To show the world its colour.

The soft chrysanthemum,
A rosy brush of autumn's breath,
So stoic in their blush.

The pale gardenia,
A soft unfolding in cautious masses,
The tokens of a lover.

The quiet lilac,
Without a care for frill or grace,
Growing where it may.

The meadow shifts.
There is such blissful sorrow
In watching flowers bloom...

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N-eglect not your primary duty, 
A-s it's no frill like leaves of oak; 
N-ever abandon your function, 
C-ompletely fulfill your 
Y-oke. 

V-ery nice to do the primary duty 
I-n life underneath the sun; 
C-omply with your solemn task, 
E-ven though convenience is gone. 
N-ow is the proper time 
T-o please the Lord God Almighty; 
E-arly Tuesday sixth of March, worship is your primary duty....

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	Slut's Wool *
	Written: By Tom Wright
	1/21/03
	
	Deep thoughts often dormant lie,
	In un-swept corners of my mind.
	Unless God, awakens by and by,
	"Dust Bunnies" are all I find.
	
	I seek today thoughts not oppressed,
	Not simply enticing words or frill.
	Nor as slut's wool to be expressed,
	But thoughts worthy of ink and quill.
	
	*Dusty encumbrances to domestic cleanliness
	
...

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I watched a lone frill -
flitter 'neath a crescent moon.
  A chasse quite brief;
  a waltz concluding too soon.

Dusk's nocturnal breath
whirls a foliferous heart.
  A ron de jame leap
  reinvents classical art.

The plume flits and floats
beyond a stilled rivulet - 
  one rebel osprey
  escaping Swan Lake's ballet.

Tchaikovsky's cygni 
are enchanted and enrapt;
  as a chaste quill sleeps
  'pon the brim of vesper's cap....

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I wish I could dance forever,
And then I would stop never.

Like the light on my window sill,
Dance to the end in a frock with a frill.

Dance like a graceful peacock in the rain,
I'll be as proud a lion is of his mane.

Dance,dance,dance till my feet drop off,
All my sorrow I will laugh off.

All my pain I will forget,
For when I dance I do feel great.

I wish I could dance forever and ever,
And then I would stop never..........

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Today the mist rules, stolen horizon
in a merge of sea and dank air, sky
confiscated, parcelled in a grey 
patination like macular degrade.

Fields and village prematurely aged
to lie in a state of transience,
shrouded in mourning funereal garb
fashioning weighted reverend silence.

Even the rising tide treads  quiet
in its take as the pacing frill 
of frothed surf whispers a rhythmic  lullaby
to the drowsing day beneath its blanket....

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had another bill
which was with frill after frill
heard from high on hill

we sailed to Shallotte
which we had done in big boat
to find place to vote

you should see him smack
which he wanted to have back
also wanting slack

we want a sanction
which would offer persuasion
prevent invasion

Putin a pervert
people he has liked to hurt
did treat them like dirt

My Horn Haiku of the Day
based on Daily News and
Will Smith whose wife has
a skin condition....

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DEAD RECKONING

That stain of guilt, it haunts me still
And it will live with me until
The end of days, when that arrives
As we account for all our lives
In that moment one pays the bill

A veil of black, no tuck or frill
When ink has dried upon the quill
And rust has blunted all the knives
That stain of guilt

When all sorrow has had its fill
And others may think what they will
Then, so very little survives
The balance is reduced to nil
That stain of guilt

...

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Listen to poem:

Pickelina Pickelina, cutest dill from Pasadena 
she was hot, she was spicy with a crunch of very nicey 
With a dash of cosher dill she was Duken's favorite thrill 
was she gherkin was she Vlasic, what a bittersweet dill-emma ! 

Pickelina Pickelina middle name was Angelina 
thought she was a daffo-dill all decked up in lace and frill
Relished moments of pure taste, only needed one to baste 
Yes she was the sweetest dill, always dressed to over kill....

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I do so enjoy it when my reputation precedes me.
The humbling jest of it all seems to feed me.
I need not worry about delivering much,
My history gives little evidence of such.
If there’s a chance that I’ll be late…
Then figure that I will.
If I’m not, then enjoy the surprise
And call it a frill..
If I forget what I am to remember,
Be not angry,
But to my reputation surrender.
And if I don’t meet your higher expectation..
Smile: It’s all there in my sullied reputation....

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Night hours are still, as all must sleep.

White moonbeams spill on oceans, deep;

Sprite creatures chill- their silence keep.

Bright flowers thrill to bow, rest reap-

Tight buds wrap frill, while petals peep.

Flight birds lose trill- no songs to cheep.

Might of God's will- rules morning's leap;

Rite of Sun's skill- makes new day sweep.


June 27, 2020

Rules: First, middle and last words in the first line 
rhyme with those in the lines following.
...

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I’ve been told that I possess
A “most creative quill.”
So, thank you, Bob; I must admit
Your words gave me a thrill.

Alas, a pencil is the tool
Which helps me to create.
I know, at least poetically,
It doesn’t quite equate.

I’d love to write with ink-dipped quill,
A style I could embrace,
But reason trumps such fantasy – 
For how could I erase?

My trusty pencil does the trick,
Though lacking feather frill,
But I’d have fancied, like the Bard,
Composing with a quill....

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