Short Thereabouts Poems

Are all these eyes imbued
With a magic of
Soft awed insightfulness
Under Autumn's spell.

To note, in both apple
And what thereabouts
Old carted, rusty leaved
Alike fair does swell....

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Been having trouble in Tummy Town lately
Probably nothing serious, just age, I'm eighty
The body wears out
At eighty or thereabouts
But made it this far with a body quite shapely...

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Bet you didn't know this, it'll bring you to tears
Female ferrets die without sex for a year
Would like to try help out
Touch her “thereabouts”
Male ferrets in shiny fur they prefer I hear...

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W
e
are out of toilet paper I say!
I’m gonna do my business outside
 beneath an apple sapling. That I may
return a little phosphorus and nitrogen
to the soil I have been so content to
rob. And Years from now I’ll know 
that some bastard generation grows 
yet, sprung not from my 
loins, but thereabouts
at least
...

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Sometimes 
I write poems about
 Wine and other essential
 Molehills of Life at 
4 AM when 
Bacchus is still awake
Conniving in 
Sheer revelry at the
 Mere notion he invented
Satyrs and other
Preternatural nymphs.
Speaking of nymphs, I relish the whim that at 
4:10 AM or thereabouts, if I rush outside into the
 Oozing Black Syrup, I might brush against one,
Intentionally....

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Avocado -  a true story

It’s green
Not Martian
Avocado fell from high
Perhaps the sky
Or margins thereabouts
More exact
A tree or branch released it down
And found my wife
Nearly took her life
Her eye was hit directly
With bump…. then lump
Untold un-pleasantries of course were hers
She did not cry
But made a side dish of revenge
With proper justice served
Guacamole anyone?!...

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I dreamt I built brick by brick a house
Where you and I and the whole world stayed thereabouts
I dreamt that our race, gender, and religion didn’t matter
And that our kids played with each other
I dreamt that you and I and the whole world ate
At a table filled with love, kindness, and no hate
I dreamt that you and zi and the whole world sat at a bench
Where we sat without no one pushed off without a defense...

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At 6 a.m. or thereabouts 
I walk past Peter Pan,
A lovely statue in the park
Of which I am a fan.

That early, I am oft alone
When I go strolling by,
But not today, for in the air
I heard the softest sigh

Of melody and on a bench
A man with a guitar
Was strumming, just for Peter,
His sole audience so far.

He didn’t even glance my way
As I believed he might
But the music and the moment
Made an early day delight....

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Heavenly body spinning around
Through a Solar System as the 3rd one down
Are we the only ones with their own planet
As life grows in and on it

Beautiful blue sky spreading out
As we trace around the sun thereabouts 
How did we come to be
Planned by someone or an accident you may see

Do we own the blue planet
Or are we just custodians of it
Will we ever know the answer
Maybe we’ll just continue in our ponder.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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The sky is falling, orange and round
In quantities that do astound
Collecting morning, noon, and night
Even in dark, with a flashlight
And all of this from one main tree
Thank God we don’t have two or three
They’re washed and put into the freeze
When thawed, the skins come off with ease
And then, I run them though a mill
The pulp goes through, but it’s uphill
A gallon in is a pint out
That’s plus or minus, thereabouts
It is a lot of work, it seems,
Persimmon ice cream, it’s a dream...

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