Short Sheers Poems

Confined dread, prison
Jagged sheers maim, breaking chains
The humbled mountain...

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Keep your marshmallow bulges
those wisps of forgotten sheers
distorted aerials of gossamer
but those grey pinks
laden with promises
of the foreboding
speak with a ethereal heaviness
i am here...

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The Boot

The boot careless
Tramples the rose  
Tearing petals muddied

No longer beautiful
Not to be chosen 
Waiting gardener sheers - trash

The ground below
A hint of blush
A scent of sweet
Delighted in the boot’s thoughtfulness

Published: Poppy Road...

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Trump Bringing In the Shears

Sure seems like and what it all appears,
Trump had been bringing in the sheers;
Kept cutting;
Head butting;
Our fears were everything disappears.

Jim Horn

While we will worry and everyone wreaths,
Caught Trump again stealing all the sheaves....

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delicate gauzy organza sheers
window dressing dancing in the bedroom
blown gently by forced air heat
piped in by silver register on floor
moving softly in a sensuous way
erotic dance of cosmic feelings
my wide awake eyes 
overwhelmed by imagination
conjures up a dancing ghost...

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i can not keep, fighting back tears, girls clip my limbs, like using sheers, ill just stay here, while you say cheers, nothing to show, for all these years. ill stand my ground, and face my fears, they may be teens, but arnt my peers, cant get a job, with these careers, ive given up, i'm shifting gears....

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blue lights shine
from the window
sheers almost cover the windows
and the house
is lit outside
watching from the road he can see
them moving room to room
arms of laundry
pots of dinner
waving papers
fighting brothers
and here he sits in his cold car
slapping keys on the steering wheel
knowing
when he goes in he will rip their hearts out
announcement





* For Paul - who is courageous beyond measure...

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So soft the blue-gray periwinkle light
soft as a baby’s breath it enters through the sheers
the blue-gray comforter of rain’s delight
periwinkle mirth, periwinkle myrtle
light which laps the shore of night
gently rousing the retired dreamers
rousing with the cheek of infantile day
with the hopes that slumber lost will simply stay
the cheek so rouge and warm displays
of infantile needs is born
the suckling light of
day....

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I came to this new land
To this old continent 
Following my natural
Instinct
I did not hear sheers
No smile
No welcome signs
No fireworks
No one was there to receive me
Or to shake my hand 
As I anticipated
Except this sign
That says:
“NON-CITIZENS must cross this gate”

I came with no sense
Of attachment
Identity
Religious freedom
Love freedom
Big numbers
Freeing freedom
I am just seeking the warmth
I am looking  for
A piece of land
On the sun....

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