I have no theme, no muse, no just cause or aim.
Untouched by reason, no spark nor any flame.
Yet still the words flow, kindled all the same,
By the sheer love of words and the games they play.
My poet's head is full of words churning within,
With magnetic attraction for their next of kin,
Words that describe images, thoughts, sounds therein,
It's a noble cause, just because a story must begin.
It's not just the lovey-dovey smoochy stuff,
But words that clash, jog and jangle, huff and puff,
Words that trawl up memories and a serendipitous bluff,
Words that inspire a just cause in readers is just enough.
I wash, rinse, and recycle what pops into my head,
Creating a riddle, jingle, jangle and rhyme bedspread,
That's washed, spun, and hung out to dry once it's said,
To flap, taunt and jangle readers passing-by my spread.
A dainty baby drooling, in soft cuddly lap
like a ravine of ambrosia scented all sweet.
toddles a landscape of lilies and tulip,
smoochy hugs kiss, fondling mouth to feet.
Camelias and orchids, in fleecy pink cheeks
gurgle and whistle, cries of joyful delight.
warm touch in clasp, a fist of folded fingers
dreams of new hope, sleeping through night.
Nurturing pure love, humming sweet lullaby
endless back and forth, rock a cradle awsome.
unlike flowers of spring, that wither and wilt,
babies grow strong, from tender blossoms.
Dated 22nd March 2019
Pick a title vol 2 contest
Title Tender Blossoms
Sponsor Edward Ibeh
Flying Potatoes
By The Potato of Terror 28/3/05; revised 1/2/14
Flying potatoes permeate my days,
Float gently through the attic of my brain;
Winging their way through smoochy summer haze
And tapping tarantellas in the rain.
I want to romp where tuber dreams ignite,
Where pomp is caught with naughty circumstance;
I yearn to flit where reverie takes flight
And lunacy leads love a merry dance.
Flying potatoes infiltrate my nights,
Making me dream of all unnatural things;
Like evil gnomes in capes and fishnet tights
And Maris Pipers with great scaly wings.
Flying potatoes tell me "Be afraid!
We are such dreamers as would stuff a maid!" *
(*With apologies to Shakespeare)
Haikus 54
parking lot romance
soaking wet smoochy kisses
far too many clothes
a wet asphalt bed
not in the Kama Sutra
do it anyway
These were written for photo #1 in PD’s “Kissing in the Rain”
contest, but I missed the deadline. Oh well...
This is not how I thought it would end
The air is leaving me so fast
I am alone, without a friend
The world before me is vast
My lungs are starting to burn
This breath I am about to take, will be my last
Forgive us our sins, just as we have forgiven those who have sinned against us.
Do not let me go without correcting my wrong
When they find out, my family will make such a fuss
My list of sins is far too long
Darkness is very near
I can no longer feel
There is nothing more for me to fear
None of this seems real