An unclear image moved swiftly by
Briefly seen from the corner of my eye.
A rumbling upstairs made my heart pump,
Downstairs in the dark—thump, thump, thump.
This house suddenly seemed to come alive,
The chills enveloped, I pulled my blanket up high.
The movements and sounds—I just heard something fall,
I peeked from my blanket to see the bounce of a ball.
I slunk to the floor and crawled toward the door,
Silent and still, my heart pounding once more.
It just charged down the hall in a wild, playful race—
Then yipped with delight and licked my face!
My puppy at play in the dead of night,
Turns out the scare was no match for his bite.
It was after midnight,
when he slipped out of bed,
careful not to disturb,
the trailing streamers
of dreamers in la la land.
The house held its breath warm—
willing all within its walls
to stay asleep; not be stirred.
The creaks of timber stairs
were never heard, never slurred,
to blurt out their secrets and
break the stark, thin, brittle hush of night.
As he snuck into the kitchen,
the night light came on,
saving a bare-foot snub.
As he stooped to open the fridge,
he saw the note she left on the door,
from the day before, saying:
“I forgot to tell you the milk's a little off.”
He smiled at the crooked charm of the message,
feeling a ghost in the whispered warning.
Fed the milk to the cat.
It purred with delight.
Sometimes he thought, such tiny phrases,
slip in before they're noticed,
curdle before you taste them.
Only to slink away with a sting in their tale.
With that, he nodded and returned.
The fridge door slammed itself shut.
He wandered back to bed, on tiptoe, making no sound.
He left the light night burning,
for the shadows that rose on the landing,
and for the cat.
Both slunk away, back to bed.
With limp thunder
came silent still-born rain.
Sky broke,
clouds chose
to play apart today,
as the gray clad stand-ins
in blue duffel coats,
and snow white hoods
slunk away, to fade away,
like peals of bells
fade when echoes fail
to surface on
soft absorbent
compliant surfaces.
Black clouds like the thunder
missed the role-call.
Remained waiting
in the bleachers
for someone
to applaud,
to gee-up
the thunder with claps,
to raise a curtain call.
To giddy-up, giddy-up
the mighty steed Thunder,
to do its
clippety-clop, clippety-clop thing.
to do its
rumble, rattle and roll,
with steely shod and shiny
hooves on cobble stones.
Sometimes my dear steed Thunder,
led along on its reins and bridle,
enters the storm unmounted,
hushed to neigh forlorn,
in gray clouds,
in sky-blue skies.
The fly swatter is out,
Bugs are all about.
How could that be,
What I see?
Has many legs.
Not a spider,
Or a fly.
But something fanciful on the eye!
Swatted quick to the ground,
SMASHED FLAT!
Legs waving all around.
"You killed my lashes", she wailed!
Carefully,
I slunk on by.
Didn't realize,
It was it was part of her eye!
Spiffed up in my tux and looking so cool
My, how the ladies do titter and drool
I strut about to entice
Fell on my bum on the ice
Picking myself up, slunk off like a fool
What‘s better than a biscuit?
Hard to debunk
Treasure trunk funk
Should you let
It get wetter
Would you dare risk it?
The trick a quick dunk
Or could flunk..flick..kerplunk..
Mushy chunk sunk..messy junk
Slushy slunk..in the tea you drunk
So at your leisure
Pleasure one’s self
Don’t regret your stealth
Forget your health
Wealth beset on the shelf
So feeling restive?
Yearn for a digestive?
Appealing…suggestive
No shock..dark choc
What else will cut the mustard
With a brew…for a few bob
Recurring theme..does seem
Will always dream
About a custard cream
Almost sob…as I Lob
A hob-nob in me gob
Ta pour more cha
In fine fettle
Be a slob
Turn on the kettle
Bickies in the jar
On the sofa settle
Sins within tins
Spurn concern
Ignore the racket
As
Hats do doff
Knew from the off
On a roll
The sole goal
Quaff another cuppa
Down your cake hole
Scoff the whole packet!
I swim in sorrow, deep and wide,
Against a tide that won’t let me hide.
Each thought is bleak, each stroke is weak,
My breath is weak, I cannot speak.
If I stop to think, I start to sink.
My eyes glue shut if I blink.
I'm slunk in a glum, glug slug of gunk.
Stuck in the oooze of blues, I'm sunk.
My arms grow weary, my eyes are teary.
My fate is bleary, dreary, weary.
For grief is a sea, land-locked in self pity,
In which we wallow, until we swallow, nitty-gritty.
The Pool Shark
Double or nothing
I go for the gold.
I meet with the devil
and sell him my soul.
Content with the knowledge
I will win it all.
I let him guide me
to the pool hall table.
Dressed in my white suit
with Panama hat.
I stand with my cue
and watch my sucker rack.
As I line up my shot
I hear bets exchanged.
Their values are spoken
with a varying range.
With a gleam in my eye
I strike the cue ball
And watch as my shot
caused the three ball to fall.
I pump my fist in glee
for I called the side pocket
In the ball shot like a
red fiery rocket.
My skills went down hill
and I lost all my cash.
The rest of my game
had gone into the trash.
As I slunk out the door
Old Scratch was waiting for me.
Your soul is mine now
he said with great glee.
As we walked off to hades
that burn with fierce fire.
I sadly learned to deal with the devil
I should never have believed that crafty old liar.
Stepping to the plate, he stood at four foot eight.
Sixty-seven pounds, that was the batter's weight.
You probably wouldn't think to look at this punk,
that his club held a punch, as to bat, he slunk.
Mister Monninger shouted a curious phrase -
"powder river." To the hitter, it conveys
a sense of fearsome confidence and power.
Cocking the bat, he knew he'd be man of the hour.
First pitch, and that ball sailed o'er the grass of green.
No lie. It was the furthest anyone had seen.
Yes, I was that batter boy, who played in tattered jeans,
but I still don't know what "powder river" even means.
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
I wish I had the kind of calm
To take things in my stride,
But I am made of different stuff,
Which shakes me up inside.
Anxiety is always there
Just waiting to appear
And it does not take very much
To get it into gear.
I do my best to bat it off,
But I’m not very strong
And when I think it’s slunk away,
I find out I was wrong.
Some people don’t get ruffled or
They keep their stress at bay,
But some of us (including me!)
Are not designed that way.
Drunk, in a funk, a lowly punk, I shrunk from a skunk. It stunk. Away I slunk. I too stunk, I thunk. I took a dunk and sunk.
A chunk or hunk of B.S. or bunk? Please debunk.
I have almost never heard such a racket as this
The snakes slunk off down the alley with barely a hiss
The rats ran away, the instant the cacophony began.
“God preserve my ears!” yelled an early milkman.
Yes it was the cat band, with horrible screeching and all.
We heard it often in the wee hours that no longer tranquil fall.
Who sold them instruments? I asked the guy next door.
He turned and pointed to the silent music store.
Of course this place did not open until ten.
These caterwauling fools would be asleep by then.
I ran into my house and put some bright red earplugs in.
Tried to sleep but could not do it thanks to their awful din.
If you walk on ice, you chance your life.Quote - Poet’s own
Was Christmas nineteen sixty three
When this story happened to me
Snow had fallen down thick and fast
So cold it was, weeks it did last.
Gone against parental advice
A friend and I skated on ice
It was on a local canal
Felt it was safe, me and my pal.
Wrapped cosy and snug we both were
Hat, gloves, scarf and boots lined with fur
Some lads were there, knew them from school
As boys do they acted the fool.
One came and snatched my friend's hat off
"Hand it back nasty boy" I scoffed
The boys then ran off with her hat
I chased them alike a wildcat.
To my horror the ice it cracked
I fell in, at the edge in fact
Clinging on, “save me” I did shout
The boys came and they pulled me out.
I slunk home wet, cold and hungry
Through the back door so none saw me
The parents would have exploded
If they knew what had unfolded.
It was a fright of a Quagmire
A warning to not play with fire
Never walk on frozen water
Sons, daughters do what you oughter.
a fat black bumpy snake took me hostage in a roll.
pulled me right down into the farthest darkest hole
What the heck! What the heck! What the heck!
whoa! I yelled out for he had his fangs around my neck
down we slithered and slunk, my captor and me
I doubted he was inviting me to afternoon tea
I desperately tried to find a pocket knife
But I have never carried one in my life
suddenly I realized I was writing a poem
Would I ever get to write it?
Would he bring me home?
Who! Whoa! Whoa! Let’s talk I screamed
It was a silent scream, an awful dream.
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