Writing this while entities, ghosts are present --
Not able or willing to make themselves appear.
How could I know? You might, rightfully, augment.
I've always been able to sense when they're near.
But, alas -- time after time, there is nothing there.
I said, "they're," a lie -- you knew I meant "she,"
Didn't you? Why would I otherwise be so concerned?
At the peripheral of vision, mad treetops shake free.
In those shuckling movements, the wisp is returned.
The room I light, windows sealed, mirrors all turned.
I call friends and toast a garlic grilled cheese on rye.
There are occasional pests of undetermined colors
Scurrying to escape my wrath and condemning eye;
And, a sulfuric, rotten egg odor like old car mufflers.
I want to leave; but, am wary of moonlight shufflers.
On the roof it is peaceful, quiet. I am alone -- for now....
It is frustrating to not be certain if a person is tethered
Or crossed over -- a condition not only does death endow.
A face flashes. The phone rings. Her page is weathered.
Too few glimpses, hearsay, rumors -- I am surrendered.
Categories:
shufflers, absence, death, desire, fantasy,
Form: Quintain (English)
Arise young man
for you're sat in my chair
it's a black and tan fact that I always sit there.
My body's effete
I envisage a pause
insipid responses are'nt helping the cause.
Disrupting proceedings
congesting the room
I shall rain on your head a disparaging tune.
Who gave you admission
who gave you the ball
you pitch in Zimbabwe, Yemen or Nepal.
You're dropping your drivel all over the place
I'm brewing a mixture to foetor your space.
Contemptuous derision of cultured advice
and cute disrespect of our country's entice.
You hustlers got rhythm
you hustlers got stance
us shufflers are hoofing the Floral Dance.
I'm standing...you're sitting amazing the court
reciting us Shakespeare and Pinter and Holt.
You're devouring my dinner
then guzzling my tea
the resident kookies are cracking with glee.
Are they your wheels hogging the hub of my drive?
that's it mate....you're finished....I'll skin you alive.
This bale revelation has made me uptight
to retrieve my location I'll hammer all night.
........Get up I say
that's my bloody chair
it's a black and tan fact.....that I always sit there.
Categories:
shufflers, funny
Form: Light Verse