Short Squishes Poems

I walk barefoot
along the beach,
The wet sand squishes
between my toes,
And the weary waves of the sea
swooshing the shore
like my labored breathing,
There's a sluggish stream
of salty air blowing in
like the tears
rolling down my face;

The sun is setting gently
like my sinking hope,
And the sky is awashed
in a crimson hue
like my bleeding heart....

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In July, no air cooler will dissipate the heat.
I squeeze the bag, it squishes, like paste within my hand.
The chocolate eggs were perfect, the kind one loves to eat.
April's chocolate ovals now are no longer grand.

Why were these candies put on a shelf three months ago?
A preference for jellies, perhaps may be the cause,
But a springtime gain of weight tells the reason, I know.
The candies weren't unwanted. They just were put on pause.

...

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Walking barefoot along the beach
the sun is setting over the waters
and it paints the sky orange and pink.
The wet sand squishes between my toes,
I take a deep breath of the salty air
close my eyes and listen to 
the squawk of the gulls and 
the waves lapping the shore.
Enamored of the magical moon
the waves of the sea rise reverently and
passionately race to engulf the shore,
Besotted, my heart yearns to embrace 
my beloved in my longing arms.
...

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Listen to poem:

Feeling sluggish, shelled.
Lithely lingering in the dust and grime.
Palette grey and dull, devoid of crisp bright hues,
Brushes all furry, frayed, blunt, incapable of fine detail.
Apathy and complacency palls to gloom and doom in my room.
Inactivity and being non-committal, chokes the creative urge, to be stillborn.
But then, words and poetry flood into the brain during sleepless nights.
There's no stopping it. 
Its spell, dispels the squashes, and quells the squishes to splats....

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