Short Plunked Poems

The moon sat, plunked in a cobalt sky
punctuating the stratus
a wane full note on a blank scale
resonating, pulsating, pregnant in it’s fullness
and the string was plucked....

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She was trying to sell her house and she thought it would be easy
Until she noticed what was in the yard of her neighbor Mrs. Breezy
Into her front yard Breezy had plunked a mooning pumpkin man.
Gawkers and house-hunting lookers drove off as fast as a human can....

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A shy he-man met a pee man
                                They vowed to exchange their semen
                                           They forgot to spelunk
                                        Quarreled on count of spunk
                                  And plunked onto pouch of Riemann...

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Wilson and Broadway at 4 a.m.

Chicago

Sunday evening. Drunk
and strolling home.

On the way an hour now,
block after block,

bar to bar.
Weekend’s gone,

Monday’s turning.
Along the way

his swollen fingers find
parking meter posts

are an endless xylophone.
Plunked, they play

the anthem
of a life misspent.


Donal Mahoney...

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Someone’s sitting on my bench!
Of course, it isn’t mine
And so the person perching on it
Isn’t out of line.

Still, every time I’m out here,
It’s the place I choose to sit
And plunked down someplace else 
I’m liking not one little bit.

There’s really nothing I can do
But grumble and complain.
(From giving in to baser moves,
I simply must refrain.)
...

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I plucked the moon out of a blackened sky

To save it from the music of Orion's wrath

The universe, now without its lover

Played its tune among  the stars




Adapted from 

Moonsong by Deb Guzzi


The moon sat, plunked in a cobalt sky
punctuating the stratus
a wane full note on a blank scale
resonating, pulsating, pregnant in it’s fullness
and the string was plucked....

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How did I land in Kansas?
Who plunked me here?
Smack in the middle of the USA?

A state where my vote will never count.
Thanks to the Electoral College

What was I thinking when I arrived?
Now I remember. I was thinking of my grandchildren.
Wanting to be closer.

The land of Dorothy, Toto, the Tinman and tornadoes
Wizard of Sunflowers and I am in an earth-sheltered house.
Voting is not everything....

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Grandmother elephant’s sneezes were loud and long.
They came from her gut and they were incredibly strong.
They started the moment she put on her new hat someone said.
You mean the floral arrangement that is plunked down on her head?

There were lilies and cone flowers and roses too.
The flowers were in pastels, scarlet, pink and winterly blue.
She has hay fever, she is allergic! Said her doctor. Take it off her head...

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Six years after the atomic bomb
Plunked down in Hiroshima 
Tearing people into pieces
Dali was still losing sleep over it

He begins to collect strips and struts
Developing a surreal idea of what he is about
Collects arrowheads, wire, bits of bone.
Defers from his usual style

Puts together Raphaelesque Head Exploding
A tiny canvas with a large message
Showing his disdain for atomic bombs
And the barbaric aftermaths...

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the fishing pole is ready
my victims are as good as in my mouth
her little mind was heady
on her way, she turned down south

the birdies chirped throughout the dale
April approaching made March less grim.
Night crawlers were singing in their pail
Not knowing what was in store for them.

the fishing pole was plunked into the water.
Bass and bluegill fought over the worms.
A terrific day for a fisherman’s daughter.
Enough lunch for six pachyderms.
...

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Listen to poem:

Plunked down in chaos
from a gentler time,
blinkered from the traffic
he pulls the coach along.
Patient, in his harness bond
he tugs at hearts, with pathos-
as to his love of duty we respond. 
Amidst the screech of sirens
and the blasting horns,
he stands and dreams
of meadows in a nosebag.
 
Such rhythmic clicking of
 metal shoes on concrete,
full rolling of the carriage
wheels and he, confined,
down through the centuries
he thought he'd left behind....

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