Short Verging Poems

Fragrance of spring mint,
lilac petal cascades strewn
Thorny rosebud hedge...

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Do you guys detect a pattern emerging
About to O.D... on the precipice I'm verging
Too much damn happy
On the brink of sappy
Must reverse it, there's a danger of extroverting...

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Do you guys detect a pattern emerging
About to O.D... on the precipice I'm verging
Too much damn happy
On the brink of sappy
Must reverse this trend, with danger I'm flirting...

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Do you guys detect a pattern emerging
About to O.D... on the precipice I'm verging
Too much damn happy
On the brink of sappy
Must reverse this trend, with danger I'm flirting...

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Fear before love; tis ever
A street's heart-thumped view.
Abhorrence, through which a smile
Cracking, may burst through.

That which trembles, before dawn
Verging, tree-shaded
Its more than likely in awe.
For whom light does shed....

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elevated
        motifs
      the
      familiar 
      intimacy
oft 
the
    everyday:
passive
  eternal   
      verging
  on the
     insignificant
yet
  recognisable
   subservient
   self-effacing
neutral
  neutered
   by
     neglect...

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VIRUS 


            
            Venomous on attack
            Virulent poisonous
            Violent vicious.
            Virus Covid -Nineteen
            Viable in human
            Verging in Pandemic
            Vaccine not yet fool proof.     


  05/06/21


    ' Pleiades  V' Contest by Kim Merryman...

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I received your letter, Charles, 
I opened quick and read,
That you are verging insanity
and cannot leave your bed.
Congratulations to you Charles, 
You have come up a notch,
Above the crowd to a place
Where no one knows of posh.
I smile when another man
Comes to insanity, 
For it is the progress of our time,
And all my company....

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Arrogance of a Sporting God

Is it arrogance, that makes him so good,
Or being so good, that makes him arrogant.
Shirt off, chest out, displays egotistic swagger,
Pompous superiority, somewhat self-evident.

Can you idolise a man without humility?
Even if he’s pure genius, a sporting God.
With wealth and power verging on obscene,
Boots of Gold upon his feet are shod....

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A bunch of dead leaves.  
They cling on the eaves,
verging on falling
killed by frost.
Coating the earth.

Sweaty brow that furrows in
thought as the wind pushes.
Leaving them only to fly 
back--can’t get them all–

the fruits of this labor
eternal and constant
as the dead petals

Back and forth.
Cold, crisp rhythm
sweeping out the old.
Time tested,
true auburn harmony....

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