John Wayne walked
As Wisconsinites do
Every Winter
When frigid cold tumbles
Humbles
Two-legged gait
On
All kinds of ice.
So does walk
Timothy Oliphant
Come to think of it.
He walked on sand there,
In Hawai’i,
But not for very long.
Same thing.
It is the kind of sidling
Desert snakes do:
Half tentative
Full-blown cocky;
But without butts
Or lopsided heads.
I see a deer dancing
On the frozen lake
And say:
“There goeses
The Waynes and the Oliphantes.
Nano nil glitch, stroke; flow lubed leach.'
Synch rich, stichless seamed.. interlocutional smooth streamed'
Formed by in-flow, tronic sensed
Fluid deep texture, by each slide'
No stroke denied, draw and thrust.'
Inspiration (less dust) sidling idling'
To form in a texture, of influx overflow.'
Slick up my sentances; an arrest-less go.'
A new tapestry, out-grows.)
The deep of night
In the city light,
Loses its height;
Silence, out of sight,
With sound of freights.
Wisdom ain't to seethers
who sees only through eyes,
Smitten by lies and lies that lies.
Judging one of rumor jives,
Truth soon withers...and dies.
Grasp the mind
Of this poet kind.
Known to many a blind;
Seeing naught behind;
Unfriend, a blight, unkind.
But this poet keen
Of using means,
By ears, then hears,
By look, then sees,
By search, then finds.
Though was a blind,
Sees more that sight.
Sees not behind,
But, too, walks beside
The unfriend, the blight,
and the unkind.
A bloom of valor in the heat of summer
ushering me to the epitome of a deep inhale
she becomes by far my flower of the hour
velvet to the touch with red cherry ooze, she is perfect
and is always ready to permeate the air with her exhume
ushering me to the epitome of a deep inhale
she sets my senses reeling with her sweet perfume
this classy flower proud of stature claims my garden
and is always ready to permeate the air with her exhume
her summer spritz, traverses alongside my Doc Martens
I feel privy to her floral dance, as I advance
this classy flower proud of stature claims my garden
for she is unequaled to any bud of sidling stance
offering hope for a brighter tomorrow
I feel privy to her floral dance, as I advance
she takes away my every sorrow
a bloom of valor in the heat of summer
offering hope for a brighter tomorrow
she becomes by far my flower of the hour
I had never met a buffalo who smokes a pipe.
But this one did it without any kind of hype.
It looked natural hanging from the big guy’s mug.
I saw his wife merely give him a tiny bit of a shrug.
So he smoked a pipe, I said, sidling up to her.
Yes, she said, and I wish I had a cure.
It’s a sickly sweet smell, and it makes me feel sick.
He won’t get rid of it, so I guess he’s thick.
The buffalo king smiled at his honest wife.
I wish I could quit, he said, but I am hooked for life.
Moral of this story, is do not start little one.
I liked that he called me this. Being petite is kind of fun.
Eternity With You
It seems like an eternity that you have been gone,
But every day; you're still on my mind, like a song
Sidling through this loving heart of mine
It never fails, every single day, every single time.
But I don't mind that you do,
You'd always bring a smile with you
So, pull up a chair, Hunny let's reminisce
You can stay with me for a while, I insist.
Remember when the kids were small,
We would go to the "Meadows of Our Love."
Where the kids would rumble and tumble around
We would talk for hours, holding hands being strong.
I'll never forget; those days done passed,
You brightened my days; you made me laugh
How could I forget; the time that we shared
When you were here, inside our love that we beard.
I am burning the "Lilac" candle for you,
In appreciation for; "remembering, my boo."
Now that you're gone, I have accepted your leave;
I'll be waiting in the "Meadows," our Season's to breathe.
R.I.P. Shannon, I love you; you complete me!
She breathes honesty into the bedroom
Dispelling liars and troublemakers
Flinging lechers into the fires of hell
She takes no guff
Sure at first some thought she would go easy
Targeting her at the bar
Sidling up, expecting her to fold
Someone to take home and fondle, possibly molest
She disarms them with her light green eyes
Her lilting laugh, her pretense at being inebriated
She gives them the little girl smile
So they will take her home.
When her eyes go amber and her face goes gray
She takes their lives, trying to conquer their souls
Some wail and scream
Others go quietly, knowing they deserve it
She gives no mercy
No hope
No relief
For at one time
When she was young
None was given to her.
Since my childhood, I love summer
It wakes up in me a dreamer.
The luring bells of the ice-cream seller,
Made me gaze for him at the street corner
Till noon, across the fields, used to wiggle
Enjoy lunch with granny’s spicy mango pickle
Sidling along the rows of swishing trees
Running after humming dragon- flies
Picking plums tactfully from thorny bushes
Wondering in the widespread lushes
Rolling on the dunes of soft sands
At tranquil brook, collecting shiny shells
Dancing merrily in pre-monsoon rains
Vying with friends for the white balls of hailstones
Sleeping in the midst of the lawn
Enjoying the sweet breezes of Night queen
Listening to the epic stories of mom
Under the canopy of stars that gleam
Eyes running through the maze of stars
Drooping slowly into deep slumbers
The Good Old Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Date: 16-01-2021
won: 8th position
Does the Sea
Suffuse...
Does the Sea
Perfuse...
the sponge?
Slipping, sidling
in:
the Great Outbreath
of the far forgot shore;
so small now as to be
Unimaginable,
upwells in swells the
Entirety of this sea -
and heaves these easy seas
from shore to shore
as
sure as the moon’s dim
light is gasped over
when its wax is over -
when full; when only moonlight
lights the matte blacknight.
Does the Sea,
enter, entirely,
the sponge
and, in doing
so
forget itself?
Does the Sea,
in its Perfusion
forget itself?
Does the Sea believe itself to be
a sponge?
Or does the see,
take up a demonym?
Or does the Sea remain the Sea
no matter no matter
no matter how
fully
it inhabits, it saturates, it permeates
the Sponge?
For that matter,
does the sponge,
in being infilled wholly by
the Sea, believe itself to be
The Sea?
Sad Shiloh trots nervously across the frozen ground,
Hesitantly, then decidedly, sidling up to a new lady.
At long last has he a loving mistress found?
Will she rescue him from this place, so penned in and shady?
This golden canine, with body thin and coat lackluster,
Places his heart in her hand,
Hoping she’ll see the unrequited love he offers
As his glowing eyes implore her to understand.
She cannot turn away,
And her golden girl needs a brother,
So she promises with her he’ll stay,
That she’ll bless him with the love of a true mother.
Slowly, Shiloh sheds his sadness and learns to play,
His coat, now shiny, grows over healing sores.
He flourishes in mind and body each day.
Shiloh’s eager to please, but there is something more.
The lady realizes Shiloh cannot clearly see,
That’s why he bumps into things and misses in fetch games.
Her tender heart vows to accept what will be,
For Shiloh’s love has rescued her and her golden girl, the same.
The heat is rising up, up, up
and I feel like a wilting pup
The breeze seems to be hiding
and summer is happily sidling
down the lane it's just insane!
I meet the day with trepidation
every hour of sun is on probation
can I take it ..thats my one refrain
I like it but, I wish it would rain
common rain... this is insane !
Wish it would rain, wish it would rain
rain, rain, rain,
Rapa Nui Warriors stand bright and tall and stark
Monolithic dynasties enshrined in all our hearts
But what if I told you, til death doth do us part
Santa's elves could fill the shelves,
Yet you'd still leave your mark
Rapa Nui Warriors croon and beg and steal
Overarching humanity, like we're their final meal
A menacing divinity, one revolutionary zeal
Here is pen and paper, please sign our Satanic deal
But what of a winter, a bubbling brook
The heaviest of moai, all misshapen and shook
Where in the Kabbalah, the Qu'ran, the Lord's Good Book
Are we braced from E4 to E10,
Like the Man's unholy rook
In fraudulent suspense, here we sit idling
An educated mass, a society found sidling
Disgruntled, divine, cultured and crass
Insufficiently aerated, just like Mama Cass
Rapa Nui Warriors slouch meek and proud and mild
Seemingly inconspicuous, like the wild in a child
Innate maliciousness, see the expulsion of the Yids
For all will seem serene, until you're the final bid
Spirits of the Nations
They say
spirits abide upon another plane
reside the other side of a universal rift
shifting in the lightness of ethereal heirs;
I aver
the eidols spare us leave, sidling aside
us when we least expect, but need;
on sacred ground death lady
parses time imprinting on
our minds aspects of
life - more death,
we are inclined
put off put off put off, until a drifting paradigm
pushes all the while onto a place where sanity is
faced, displaced or graced;
The cadence
in the aftermath movement imparts
both rhythm and mood the denouement;
drums and dancers' bells beat a semblance
evolution, born to rise and fall with emotion,
musician's imbued with ancient spirit's strength
wending all around earth bound integumental husk.
(A Children's Poem)
I see you
little star
sidling up to the moon
to steal a kiss
from off his brow.
I see you
little star
twinkling in the sky
winking at me
as you pass by.
I see you
little star
gliding past milky whey
on your way
down to where we are.
DEFEAT
Out of the waves they come.
Helmeted army of crabs
Trundle over the perfect pools
Of starfish and periwinkle,
Murking up the sandy bottom
Of their foxholes,
Armoured claws testing each mollusk for food,
Sidling up to my toes
In marauding hunger.
I retreat inland,
Allowing them their beachhead.
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