Short Porches Poems

No orange flags fly
on passing cars or porches,
because Clemson lost....

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recruited grandson
to wash the porches, washed me....
pop brought one paper towel     ...

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Darkness surrounds dusk
Clown beetles saunter about
Sought by desert rats
Moths gather at lit porches
As the black widow gorges...

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Acrobatic bats circle dark English fields gulping hairy insects joyfully,keeping lazy men 
napping on porches,quite regally snoring together,until various wild xenophiles yell zealously!...

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On porches bathed in brilliant sun
enduring friendships are begun.

On moonlit porches, arm in arm,
sweethearts display romantic charm.

On countless porches you will find
retirees resting weary minds....

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We can’t catch the breezes inside,
so we take to the porches, verandas, fire escapes.
Watch an asbestos moon rise
over steaming rooftops,
and count flags from far away cities.

Below, beetles swallow our Elm trees whole,
as I listen to the neighbors bickering
and someone else’s harmonica....

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ghoulish entities ooze from the bowels of graves
slurping and slinking around bushes and under porches
they are the night raiders, the soul stealers, the vampire’s minions.
I feel their presence, and my blood freezes. I cannot get warm enough.
They have arrived.
I am their destination tonight....

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May day baskets
Created with crisp doilies
Designed by excited giggling children
Filled with wrapped candies and popcorn
Left on porches
Hear those running feet?
The best part is not being caught after you ring the doorbell
May first
May day
A childhood tradition that puts a smile on my face...

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It was one  of those 
Kind of afternoons
When ball games were heard
From open windows

And houses had porches
And porches had swings
Where voices murmured softly 
Into velvet humidity

It was the most precious of things
In the most treasured of times
It was a root beer float…
Kind of afternoon...

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Hanging from porches in rural Pa.,
Right next to the signage for Trump,
Confederate flags were a'fluttering there
And my heart seemed to thumpity-thump.

It's everyone's right to display what he likes -
That's what great in the US of A -
But a symbol divisive as that seems to me
Meant to keep non-agreers at bay....

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Pennsylvania summer
In the coal mining patch
With crickets, mosquitoes and
Children racing sprinklers
Beside closed castoff mines
Like matadors with bulls;
The faded old grandmas sit on the porches
Lethargically fanning
With Sunday's church bulletins
Trying to create the breeze God forgot
As they prop swollen feet on an old kitchen chair....

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Silently yellow touches most
Soft sticky scented pollen gold
Does it coat wings of Heavenly Host

Silently yellow touches most
Cars, driveways, porches, garden post
Touching my nose sneezing is bold

Silently yellow touches most
Soft sticky scented pollen gold

(For Bees, ants, butterflies
pollen is a great treat..For allergy 
a negative woe..)...

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my new puppy runs like a gazelle except faster
He is a retriever all right
He finds whiskey bottles, bottle caps, gum wrappers,
He has been bringing home pieces of a porch lately
Not our porch, an older porch, with paint that is more yellow
None of our neighbors have porches
More ditch diving? Perhaps
He retrieves everything he finds
and he finds a lot...

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Ashes were dancing in the air
Children played the music
Up the chimney, smoke appeared
Down the chimney, a child became lucid

No screams came from the house
Clean faces of apathy 
Shouts rose and spread chaos
Dirty faces of agony

A black cloud settled above the village
Men marched with torches 
No one could live with the image
But the white men in porches...

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Chilly winds and hoarfrost light
collaborate to signify
October’s taken hold.

Distant hills are masterpieces.
God, the Artist, planned the blend
of hues from red to gold.

Mums and pumpkins grace our porches.
Weather varies, day by day,
from gray to bright and bold.

44 words


October 7, 2019, entered in Caren Krutsinger's contest
45 words or fewer, topic: October...

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I remember georgia with her hair
 curled up in a summer dress.
 

  bug zappers hung in porches
 let the humid air curl down further,.

Sitting there or over here next to you watching 
the neon apostolic ghost gather in its congregation.

Mesmorized by the inability of the local insects not
 to stay away from the light.

Suicidally brilliant in a quick flash gone forever.....

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Who are you,
Staring into my window
Where cinders block the
Birds from flying
Into my shadow
That erases sunshine
From grunge porches 
Or squelching mechanisms
Of desire?
Was that face born into you 
Like some unfortunate disease?
Or did you choose it like the pink m&m’s 
Over the brown.
Because I wouldn’t have chosen it.

Shadows erase sunshine like 
Rubber-gum over excess pencil—
Not pen....

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The leaf shower was scheduled to begin at noon.
We ran outside and began the Come Down Dance.
The oldsters came out to their porches, none too soon.
The leaves began to drop, as the squirrels prance.

How did you know? Someone asked who did not know.
This happens every year, I informed him with a glance.
Took his hand and made him frolic until he yelled “whoa!”
Some people do not understand the Come Down Dance....

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The day I disappeared
there were pumpkins on porches
sprinklings of multi-colored maize
cinnamon and nutmeg smells
a whiff of vanilla in the living room
I felt triumphant about the messy sink
where I had spit Crest and rubbed it around


The day I disappeared I became angry
to cover up the sadness
of realizing no one had noticed
I was gone
everyone went through
their daily routine
as it was a usual day for them...

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Nothing is left
but a little water,
some light.
It's what we see
when we look closer.
With a little dumb 
luck, maybe some fire,
no, there are too few 
embers to make anything of.
Nothing to wish upon.
All was dissolving with
the putting away of things.
The world doesn't work anymore.
Light doesn't burn.
Newspapers languish on porches.
Water is dark like a x-ray.
It is colder than usual.
Some of us run for our lives....

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I used to paint for twelve hours
and it was not enough
if I could have stayed awake longer
I would have painted for twenty-four hours
not walls or porches, canvases
I love drawing cartoons and painting them
Now I am in my studio for less than an hour
when I get antsy and find something else to do
have my interests changed?
Was fourteen hundred canvases enough?
Do I need a new hobby?
I sit down and write some poetry.
It’s a start....

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In an American primitive painting:
she fetches a pail from a well,
the bucket on her hip is full of
broken eagles,
wind turbines churn in the distance.

Corn fields are bundled together.
Drones hum like doves in the evening.
The art of moon-spinning
is practiced on front porches.
People make do with
transitory Amazon wants.

Most get caught by the faceless winds,
those rattling sighs that spread
the dry seeds
of dying crops.
...

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In an American primitive painting
she fetches a pail from a well;
the bucket on her hip is full of
broken eagles,
wind turbines churn in the distance.

Corn fields are bundled together.
Drones hum like doves in the evening.
The art of moon-spinning
is practiced on front porches.
People make do with
transitory Amazon wants.

Most get caught by the faceless winds,
those rattling sighs that spread
the dry seeds
of unwanted crops....

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Pure cotton ball fluffy
Most popular tissue, end of a q-tip
Fresh clean virginal snow
Bathrooms and bathtubs
Twinkles in the cosmos
White all around me

Lacy white collars
Lacy white anklets
Lacy white petticoats
Lacy white pantaloons
Lacy white old people
White all around me

Light fixture essence
Glow from a distant headlight
Porches and paper
All the same bright
Tails of deer, polka dots on a navy dress
White all around me...

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Bougainvillea can be seen,
Across the island it is quite a scene.
It blooms in many vibrant colors,
With large clusters it empowers.
Making our senses come alive,
Briefly it holds our mind captive.
As it drapes over walls, fences and porches,
And even hung between arches.
It loves the vibrant summer’s hot sun,
Displaying a beauty which can never be outdone.
What I do not understand to this day,
Why was it not our national flower anyway?...

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