Short Stools Poems

toad stools
spring to life
in grass...

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serve
toad stools for lunch
culinary divorce...

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Here
Words weep

Forlorn dark chamber 
Poet stools freaking words....

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Yawning park bench
Filled up stone stools of lovers
Necking in the park....

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Yawning park bench
Filled up stone stools of lovers
Necking in the park....

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Tipi and Tiki two girls homebound,
One had diarrhoea one was sound;
One got in a yellow press,
Other a hell of a mess,
Between two stools one fell to the ground....

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Caught between two stools poor grandma's toilet paper 



Not for the Contest(Idiom with a double meaning: )
Inspired by SilentOne's One liner contest...

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Poop stuck in the hole
push to purge without success
Get me the vise grips!


Inspired by, I do do give credit to Jan Allison.

I hope this is not offense to Souper's!...

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A penny for your thoughts
Bothered and pained
Caught between two stools
Drastic times call for drastic measures
Every cloud has a silver lining so
Free your mind from worries.....

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44. 
Personality commodities
Melting into bar stools
Progress beyond God
to make the ultimate partnership.

Profits will come less belligerently 
When lovers sing praises in lilted voices.
off tune liquors pour needlessly
down the throats of the well fed.
Meager brotherhood looked at me 
With a dirty f...

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Wondrous feeling
Golden garden
Red Alert
Caution
Happiness strolling
Stools 
50 notes at once on piano
Trumpet at 5 keys
Space journey – first one into space
Alert once again
Happy alert
Life sounds
Life music
No opera
Life’s questions
Outcome
Life’s questions again
Global 
Happy finale...

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Damn those boys, those idiots, who,
with psychedelic lights flashing on blank faces
nurse their drinks, slowly caress glasses,
joke crudely with their friends —
while I yearn.

Damn you, you cowards, who,
refuse to develop contact
who hide in dark corners
who sit on high bar stools
who tear out my heart —
without knowing....

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Breakfast


Clinks... clanks... a crash... a clatter
Pots... pans... and plates... a platter
Smells... sounds... people... and voices
Stools... chairs... tables... and choices
Ching... ding... a door... and a breeze
"Mornin'!"..."Take your order, please?"


©Deborah burch
2005/12/06/2016 (repost)

For Brian Strand's #245  how it reads aloud CONTEST...

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There’s something acidic about this place,
bar stools slant toward an eroding floor,
poised to swallow a lazy armed 
 mop stroke. 
The man whistles through broken 
teeth; the theme song of another
night wasted.
I stand up, slosh inside my 
boots like the drink in my hand,
and sit back down into a 
creaking nightmare.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved....

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Sunday did not pan out,
an iron faith faltered.
It was a wane wobble.
it was cellular rust,
it was not enough iron.

Iron pills rattle in me like BB pellets,
my stools are obsidian artifacts.
More red wine, less whine.

The day got no better,
anemic confusions swirled.
I sucked upon nuts and bolts,
listened to Metallica,
had to iron-out yet more
non-ferrous unpleasantness....

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Come with me on an odd odyssey
One for which I struggle alone
Never able to discover before
Sitting on my ceramic throne

Taming my stools viscosity needs
In this my awkward time so dire
Prophets could not foretell I'd be
A low down dirty fiber buyer

Thus now my destiny is disclosed
In fact I must admit to such
Once the lumpy brown torrent flows
Nothing could please me quite so much!...

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I’ve got quite the appetite for mayhem

Thus from these desires my problems stem

Prozacidasical perhaps

Headfirst into Lady Luck’s slaps

Crumbling foot stools under my whim

Why if there be heart ache, I’ll have a bite

Just another serving of bittersweet spite

Bring on my many foolhearty excuses

Distilled crones, my destructive muses

Pluck from my sour patch mood, a pickled fight...

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In this wonder continent
some come with eagerness
singing liberation songs
to distressed souls tortured
in their hands light shines
in their hands, candles are seen
in their hands torch of life flickers

Let them settle down on stools
light, candles, torch disappear
and all the way through
keep busy lighting shadows

They ask the beneficiaries
to harvest from the light
cast by shadows of  charity
Here in Africa...

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At Georgia's Laugh Inn
there's no liquor,
no credit cards,
just cash.
There aint no
whiskey between
ol' bar stools
ragged beards
and confederate caps. 
At Georgia's you can gamble,
there's poker, cards 
and dice. 
The airs a sea of smoky Marbolo
The perfumes sea salt with bud light. 
At Georgia's you can step down,
to the coast of the old south.
Get a laugh in at her Laugh Inn,
before wandering 
someplace else....

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Welcome to the fifty’s diner
Where there are chrome stools
Black, red and white leather seats
A checkered floor

Everything matches
A soda machine is standing ready
The chef is heating up the fryer
Burgers and fries are the main stay

The waitress has filled the ketchup bottles
There are also mustard bottles, and salt and pepper shakers
Staff is ready for school to dismiss
So, the munching, and conversing can begin....

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Images cascade before us
  Strolling 'long memory lane
Lithe and supple were we back in those days
  Before decades of stresses and strain

I jump high, pluck a leaf from a tree
  You twirl about and fall into me
Shops seem so tiny and quaint
  Proprietors honest, without taint

We stop at the drugstore for a soda
  Seated high atop spin-around stools
Two straws but just one chocolate phosphate
  ~ Puppy lovers who play by the rules...

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Propping up their drooping
Posture on dizzy stools,
Parched lips overly pleased, 
Pockets drained of money,
Prisoners of excess 
Pander to last resort:
Phew! Pop goes the weasel.*

[*An expression describing the spending of all your money on drink
 in the pub and subsequently pawning your suit to raise some more.]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

A Pleiades ‘P’ Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Merryman
       Placed 1st
© 11th April 2021...

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POP TARTS AT DENNY’S

the midnight shift counter
truckers load padded stools
facing pretty young waitress

behind one’s back a pop tart
dressed in halloween gown
drunk with gusto she plops
and out flies all her découtage

the truckers didn’t enjoy
the peep show in the night
their eyes sipping coffee

the boyfriend’s her pull up bra
before she gets ogled by all
only the waitress witnessed
the horror of the midnight hour

11/4/2017
Light Poetry...

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Thinking of beautiful precious Goldie Hawn in Overboard while day dreaming....
Scratching our head as making a list knowing, we are merely his infant trapped amid
An old used body why else would they portray such that, their gerbers festive spoiled child ?
My twinkling if twitching nose held high be the sky; racing past her palace doors marble mistral floors
Silver stools his golden pools; flinging love's pampers without a care so joyfully unto the air; her, savoir-faire....

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Crushed peanut shells are
scattered all over the floor

Beer bottles smashed
while blood drips from the roof

A body hangs from the rafters 
while loyal patrons play
a vodka filled game of Russian roulette

Piss stains plastered all over the bathroom floor
cockroach's and rats run rampant  
all while raging alcoholics throw fist 
and set fire to bar stools

Drunker stupors, and stain glass windows rule
people call it martial law but I call it a regular Monday night......

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