Deep secrets won’t make me feel guilty,
there are moments best kept to yourself.
Sacred sort of scratches the surface
of words that don’t make it to whisper.
Smushed within the ashes on these lips,
deep secrets don’t make me feel guilty.
That choice ends their potential gossip,
it is best to leave truth the question.
Soon enough a new story’s floating
then you relish not making the news.
Deep secrets don’t make me feel guilty,
no one can twist what doesn’t exist.
New wind blew in and flattened the sails
as I laughed all the way to the bank.
I’ll stay private in this new Wild West,
deep secrets don’t make me feel guilty.
I got swirled up like zucchini noodles.
Jumping up and down with a pile of rice shouting.
Saying hi to everyone and tossing a talking apple to them.
Ruined everything like a bubbling casserole.
Like a trampoline, nothing holds on.
Or even tries.
If they had cameras, I was crying and stuff.
I don’t like it caved in!
I got slammed, smushed.
Like a pie that chooses a hard life.
I got swished around like algae goop.
Turns into a sea monster really.
I really like food, things, and grime.
Couldn’t tell you much else.
I got chopped up, scrambled, and zapped.
I’m a buzzing seaweed, soup, slop.
I take my meds whenever.
Just like endless piles of cheese cubes.
Smushed lump of clay,
molded plaything;
Such a spoiled brat.
A unicorn's horn,
tattered and torn,
a half eaten Hershey's,
2 crushed candy corn.
The tiniest bat wing,
mummy's white sling,
skeleton's femur,
spider web string.
Witch’s silk hat,
yawn from the cat,
shriveling pumpkin,
Snickers smushed flat.
When ghosties have gone
this is the scene;
left over remnants,
post Halloween.
Chocolate Fanatic's S'mores
Summer s'mores - oh so gooey
Our new version with
Chocolate graham crackers
Cocoa marshmallows
Dark chocolate squares
Smushed sweet treat
Yum!
6-2-22
Contest: What's Cooking on the Grill This Summer?
Sponsor: M.L. Kiser
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
Spelling checked
Winter’s body is a car boot sale, a mosaic of the seasons and shifts,
the breezes and breaths of a year’s footsteps, gone.
The battered wheels of a truck, spinning against morning frost, rotate into its eyes.
Berries, dropped by a robin mid-flight, are smushed and stretched to make fingertips.
Leaves colour and curl to form that receding hairline.
Winter is ambidextrous:
can wake in chill, just to later doze in warmth;
is neither gender, with its sex a fresh April daisy and an October mud pie;
has a diary’s dog-eared pages for scabs to pick at.
Puddles that freeze, melt, undulate, act as lungs: expanding. drip. decreasing. drip.
Toddlers’ mittens sewn to jackets decorate Winter’s mouth with a cross-stitched grin.
Winter has stained glass, fired in prayer, for flesh;
regurgitated cud as wrists.
It has clumped silt for a nose, dotted with freckles from sand;
vines that interrupt brick for hips.
Winter is not just winter but the culmination of a year,
with bark as its backbone: a spine that creaks, splinters and
protests against autumnal rheumatism, yet will
slip into a supple Spring bend with the gentle weave of a craftsman’s hand.
My mind is at a disarray
Why is it a gloomy day
I need to ask you a question is I may
What part in this life do I play
My heart is crushed
My time feels rushed
My hair has not been brushed
And my hat made my hair smushed
My eyes are getting blurry
My emotion is that of fury
And I am in no hurry
I am craving a McFlurry
Riddle me this riddle me that
What's going on with my body fat
It annoys me like swatting a gnat
That eventually went splat
My mind is in a disarray
And this is all I got to say
I don't want anything getting in the way
I guess this is how I will end the day
We made a Play Doh pizza
(Forming spinach from the green)
And I cut out little slices
(Cutest ones I've ever seen).
Next we patted pancakes, rolled out snakes
And to our hearts' content,
We squished and squished with all our might;
(A perfect way to vent!).
Though the colors smushed together
(Not my choice, but what the hey)
We had lots of fun, the perfect
Inter-generation play.
Then we stuffed the Play Doh in the cans
And covered them up tight
'Til another opportunity
Presents for such delight.
I thank you, Mother Nature,
For you kept the rain at bay
So all the kids were in the yard
For Henry’s party day.
Though clouds looked ready to unload
And skies were steely gray,
The swing set, balls and horseshoe set
Kept everyone at play.
Balloons gave things a festive air
And pizza came our way,
So everyone was happy,
Grins and laughter on display.
The cake was smushed, the candle blown,
Some tears appeared, but hey –
The rain held off and all had fun
On Henry’s party day.
Echoes
By Chuck Keys
The park is empty,
Littered with broken bottles,
Unsightly weeds of irregular lengths,
Varying debris and memories of bygone days.
Void of voices from games past played
Of cheers, sneers, angers and joys
When children screamed, frolicked and stayed.
The wind and silence scream a loud.
Families, picnics and camp fires echo from the past.
Shared foods of gastrointestinal delight flowed freely.
Desserts of Smores, with chocolate bars, fired crispy marshmallows
Smushed inside graham crackers.... Mmm.
Where have yesterday's children gone to play?
To fields of varying sports,
Arenas for love, war, tranquility,
For sport, fame and fortune or death.
The journey begins and ends with each moment of life.
Roads traveled daily become the final journey,
Made up of echoes from past travels,
As life and death converge into an ongoing existence.
Never ending.
© Charles H Keys, 2010. All Rights Reserved.
Last week on the road
I saw three dead cats
run over by cars
heads smushed flat.
Last week I went to work
with a very heavy heart
and when I went to leave,
my car wouldn't start.
Last week it rained so hard,
the rain stripped the trees,
so it was raining rain and
it was raining leaves.
Last week we set our clocks back
and I can hardly see
driving to work
and doing seventy-three.
Last week I missed the game
and the Cowboys finally won.
Thank God in Heaven that
last week is finally done.
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