his love for her dissolved, diminished, and dwindled down.
her uniqueness looked farfetched now, bizarre; she was a clown.
after all the fawning he had done in the past six months, he felt weird.
Glad when she found another fellow, his conscience now cleared.
76.
The Sort of Pet I am to Thee
Consider that I'm not a pest
As I am subject to thy behest
Perhaps I'm a rooster
Who wakes up earlier
To tell my master
I'm ahead him/her
Perhaps I'm a cat
Who incurs my wrath
On every destructive rat
In my keeper's hut
Perhaps I'm a canine
Who barks even past nine
When someone crosses the line
I can even break a spine
Perhaps I'm a pig
Who just lay fat and big
Can't even do a graceful jig
Only comfort it wants to dig
Perhaps I'm a carabao
Friend of iron plow
Machine for more than just an hour
Works with even humble bow.
If I'm all or none above
I hope to me you have some love.
-11/29/2011
(Dumarao)
*confused about career disposition
I can make the world dissappear
in this moment all that I am is lost ,dissolving into the sunset
I smile as dusk comes to run her cool fingers through my hair
This warm breeze a gentle reprieve
From the harsh cold of winter
A day in the sun lounging thawing my body against the heated rocks
This is the comfort of your embrace
A sweet lie in the middle of a bitter truth
I can touch the sun as it blooms
Pushing through the frozen earth
My heart opens
A thousand yellow petals before you
Trump has been breaking laws
create and cause crime with his claws
prefers premiers and skinny shahs
rile up people with his paws
likes pulling at loose straws
at his hamburger always knaws
likes women who wear big bras
have heard his oohs and aahs
Trump gives me the blahs
have heard his youthful ye's with horrible hahs
prefers hearing much applause
poor and dimwit crowds Trump draws
putrid picture he draws
sings do ray mes while forgetting his faas
skip so la ti do and away we go
cut great face which was greeted with gauze
found his big mouth in front of jaws
like big bird Trump constantly caws
seen slidding in nude in slick spas
plural of his ta is tas
would see His lost doll while in shower stall in urban sprawl
wish Trump would be so kind, get his small hands off of my behind
To see Trump tight bra she was bringing; Out big breasts did start springing
You have to send me some comments, criticism
and complaining about this collection of lines
that have been in my Horn Horrible Haiku.
which you may ensue out from a blunt blue.
I’m the Lord-of
Kind-of Sort-of
Can’t make up my mind
No yes nor no
Just maybe baby
Give me some more time
I’m not ready
To go steady
Can’t we stick to dating
Don’t you worry
There’s no hurry
Nothing wrong with waiting
As the Lord-of
Kind-of Sort-of
I will not court a bride
Til’ came the Queen
Of In-Between
Who also can’t decide
We’re both unclear
Which way to steer
And should we say, ‘I do’
Then thought, perhaps
We’ll let time lapse
Until we have a clue
As the Lord-of
Kind-of Sort-of
I don’t get much done
But with the Queen
Of In-Between
We sure have lots of fun
I try to keep my brain alert
By writing poetry.
I am still trying to think,
But my mind is deserting me.
My mind is in a muddle,
As is my pitiful brain
It is a constant struggle
Am I going insane?
Or have I already gone
And I don't know it yet.
Will my mind recover?
Or is this as good as it gets?
I am becoming invisible,
Like a plain blank wall
I blend in with the surrounding
And cannot be seen at all.
I have become a spectator.
Not an innovator of life
I must keep my mouth shut,
Because my words may cause strife.
Plain and simple words
It is my language of choice.
Individual thoughts
That gives me a voice.
To share opinions,
And different points of view.
Every day teaches each other,
And learning too.
I try to keep my brain alert,
By writing poetry
I am still trying to think
But my mind is deserting me.
Maybe I have a writing cramp,
I am sure I do not know
Whatever you like to call it
I wish it would hurry up and Go!
The best sort of wonder
Stares blankly, not just at
Rain, and its pooled splat;
As informs mesmeric
On how each act projects
Its ripple effects.
Those who wish to live long aimlessly
try to take advantage of life shamelessly
Suffice it to say
Today is a fine sort of day
Unless you are out
In the field pitching hay!
THIRD PLACE WINNER
written July 20, 2021
submitted to "Bite Size No. 14" poetry contest
sponsored by Line Gauthier
sort of did stammer
on Trump Train we did clammer
him in head with hammer
my hair had been wet
one more vaccine I must get
then the quota will be met
give me some more skin
then saw Trump taking a spin
while in den did sin
had bust after boom
zippitied and then would zoom
to another room
Trump do remember
White House no longer member
heard him go timber
Trump was complete loss
big grouch and an albatros
said he had been big boss
all over and done
Brady was there when they won
stuck with another stun
at Trump took a shot
to aim at had big spot
had been hot to trot
intelligence lacking
while he would take a wacking
sure such a shellacking
Trump had a huge butt
big mouth up should shut
awkwardly would strut
is such a screeches
Trump a terrible teacher
need an impeacher
Pray tell, who tore the neighbors’ flowers out?
What sort of child fell madly on their bed?
Surely one unruly and ill-bred!
What had it been that made this child pout
and then go out and ever dare to flout
the rule of being mannerly – to shred
those pretty blooms? Found out, she homeward sped.
She stood accused. The neighbors had no doubt.
And did this little girl’s heart fill with guilt
for her misconduct? She could not deny
what she had done. Why had such wrath been spilt
on flowers? Soon all knew what went awry!
Her father’s disregard had made her wilt,
so flowers felt her rage. I know. ‘Twas I.
Aug. 1, 2020
for the 'STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (16),any form,any theme' Poetry Contest
(a story related to me by my mother because I was so young I do not remember this!)
I have never been to a place called Rome,
And to know what Romans do at home,
And I thought that Spring was everywhere,
Yet, England claims that 'tis better there,
I think world cities are in the dark,
'Tis Paris, 'City of Lights', hallmark,
The sun does not rise by my window,
But for Samurai in Tokyo,
I never have seen, any 'smithereens',
Nor any jumping Mexican bean's,
Never heard the weeps of a Willow,
Or a bird was gone, with just one Swallow,
At age eighty, still, I kid am I,
As for the meaning of words, slips by and by,
Next door are voices, words seem to tease,
What do I care, I am not Chinese.
2019 September 19
There once was a maiden with hair like straw,
woven to gold but no one ever saw;
an imp man made a demand,
he had a sneaky plot planned;
so the imp helped her and the King said, AWE!
She wed him and became a Queen with maids,
instead of her head cut off with sharp blades;
the imp wanted her first born,
that sure did make her forlorn;
poor Rumpel- got a doll made of straw, BRAIDS !
___________________________
January 28, 2019
Poetry/Limerick/Rumpelstilskin- Sort Of
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1108-931-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Limerick 3
sponsor, Joseph May
First Place
Featured Poem Week of April 5-12, 2020
Sort of Silly
I seem to be on a beautiful roll.
Saw a nice filly walking on Piccadilly;
To you this may sound sort of silly;
My marvelous pick;
Good looking chick;
Compared to my wife was willy nilly.
Jim Horn
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