She rummaged in the children's toy box, with a grin,
Found a little tube where sunshine tumbled in.
She spun the colored glass through to amber, gold and bright,
To let every broken feeling borrow some light.
As she turned the tube, dark blue was the hue.
Then yellow skipped and giggled by, changing the view.
Red sulked a while, then orange set it aflame,
And green forgot the reason it felt the same.
She shook the stars; they tumbled into the light.
A little mess of confetti became a small delight.
The gloomy shapes still waited in their place.
But sunshine found a laughing crease across their face.
Some hurts were sharp, as worries rolled around.
Yet every twist showed a different pattern to astound.
With golden surprises dancing through the blue-grays,
As the glass taught her new ways to brighten her days.
So suffering stayed—no trick could make it cease.
But the playful whirl of colors brought some peace.
As she watched, the whole room seemed to brightly glow,
With a child-like spectrum only the children know.
her sulked head hangs
pupils turn to serpent shape
she's a mad catter
i'd just come in and made a cup of tea.
ten minutes later, i went to admire my work by the front window
that's when i saw him
he'd already made a start
he had pulled up the windscreen wipers
sponge and bowl full of bubbly water
fast-paced doesn't do it justice
washing, with mischief and energy
magnificently grotesque; a cunning, vacant expression
did i trigger this?
is this a coincidence?
i wanted to go and ask him
i went through the imagined conversation
but i couldn't do it
and i watched him groom the taillights
my wife hadn't noticed how clean our car was
i sulked at dinner, eating my
emotionally abused peas
"I know not that of which you speak, though this I can relate;
A restlessness does haunt my soul, a hunger I must sate;
I know I slept with my child's eyes naivety was my bed;
Then I did wake with adult eyes an aching heart embedded"
"The last we knew she journeyed far to seek a worthy mate;
Her longing, calm, melodic voice unsettled Zeus' state;
He sent her forth to prove her voice could conquer one like he;
And seeded lust and longing that she sings so passionately.
So now it's clear why you could raise the fire from her sleep;
For Zeus gave this playful Sprite to Hestia from his seed;
Speak soft our sister's name to her and make a wish entire;
For she must grant her captor that which they do most desire"
And so Euterpe reappeared returned to sister's fold;
The Fire Sprite now danced with glee back in her master's hold;
Our Maid now settled back at home, devoted man by side;
And Hermes whined and sulked with pain his fun and games denied.
She smoked
She smoked,
my mother did, a LOT!
I never liked it.
To me she looked like
of those “molls” in
detective magazines,
later on television,
cigarette dangling
from the corner
of her mouth
acrid smoke
curling up (she didn’t inhale)
choking the air
as she played cards
or worked
at her desk.
To be sure,
there were “issues”
between husband and wife.
Mid-Great Depression
Dad out of work
or out of town for work
alone with
kids to manage
clothe and feed
with what?
So she smoked.
Small family Jewish
grocer let bills run up.
Smoking a comfort?
Housedresses, nothing new,
shoes needed for kids.
Teeth bad, pull them.
Children need dental care.
Sharp tongue cutting
no whining
“Just get on with it”.
Hurt, not understanding
we sulked. She smoked
Smoking and smoking
taking in relatives
with lost jobs, lost homes,
sick or in need, managing somehow
depressed (never admit it)
feeling put down,
frustrated, underrated
and underappreciated
never accomplished anything
worthwhile with her
college degree.
But, in her own way,
a saint in a housedress
Smoking away the grief.
Their smiles beamed, for they dreamed together,
sharing Barbies, goodies, and even hands.
Aware of my aloneness, it seemed I wasn't there;
even Brown Bear didn't understand.
Staring into a disquieted mind, I sulked my secluded self.
Translucent tears stained my face a pale gray,
as bleak as rain clouds, blocking sun's reach.
Furrowed brows, droopy cheeks, and thin lips
transformed me into a monsterous beast.
Is this hideous, shunned image who I am?
Affixed friends would glow and float into true beauty
like sun painting the beach.
Their smiles were like whispy horizons, eyes glazed like sand granules, feet gliding like waves to the shore.
Are the pretty girls worth so much more?
3-6-2025
There once was a sad husband named Sid,
Sulked that sex with his spouse was forbid.
Demure and devout,
She wouldn’t put out,
Until after they had their first kid!
I thought I had it nailed.
The poem glittered bright.
I quickly grabbed a pen
and set myself to write.
But that poem ran away
just as I turned my back.
It stayed just out of reach,
A’laughing at my lack.
I stamped my foot and cried.
I sulked and turned away,
pretended that I didn’t need
to write at all that day.
I thought I would give up,
maybe try another tack,
but slowly, one by one,
the guilty words crept back.
They ran into my brain,
making phrases as they went,
and there my poem formed,
as had been my intent.
Many my joys ye robbed, rob still,
Lifelong ye played on me your trick.
Rather than cure blown bubble’s ill,
Ye destroyed my self double quick.
When hurt O Imposter evil,
You sulked and made the real me sick.
Your whims needed a curing pill
In the form of a whacking stick.
Truth of atman walks nude at will,
But you loved gilded lies to lick.
You often talked of sun’s great chill,
And made my serene nights look bleak.
Tried, tame my mind to climb uphill,
And made it chase your false logic.
But no more, I now know to deal
With you, just wait for my last kick.
______________________________________
Couplets |24.01.2023| mind, mischief
The shadow sulked in a puddle of drool,
Dribbling, it bawled out its eyes on a stool,
Hot chocolate with tears,
Starbursts and gummy bears,
It’s hard to devour sweets when you’re a ghoul.
30/10/22
The Gods created music
so poets would not have to talk.
The dramatic or moody warblers
stood forth.
Now we had a sing-song mouth
for the scribes.
You’d think that both singers and writers
would be content to plaster the page and air
with these heaven-sent arts,
but
no,
poets sulked, grew sullen
their egos swollen to an eighth degree.
None could not be silent,
And so they invented ‘slam’ and ‘jam’
and every which way
to yells at us -
as if anyone gave a damn.
Let me say....
I don't know you, let me say
This heart fell for you, let me say
How long, how far and why?...
This love sprouted for you, let me say
I don't speak, but let me say
This word unspoken, let me say
hesitated, stuttered and sly....
This emotion brought for you, let me say
I don't look at you, but let me say
This beauty not complimented, let me say
sulked, grimaced and eyes full of tears....
This bliss of love for you, let me say
I don't stalk your path day long, but let me say
This step, slowed, paused, let me say
Heard, waited, praised and why?....
This impatience in your heart, let me say
I don't stare at you, but let me say,
This thousand words in glimpse, let me say
stretched, faster heartbeat and ran away....
This unspoken love for you, let me say
I don't live alone, but with your thoughts, let me say
This gaze of your for me, Oh! Let me say
bulging, rampaging and burning why?....
This hidden care for me, baby, let me stay.
I now know you, That I love you, Let me say.
I've been writing countless poems all my life
With tears as my medium, unpigmented ink
While sulked in the chair where you used to sit on
Words became traces of what was once an unbreakable link.
Done! But the final outputs turned out impalpable,
Unreadable, even my tear-stained eyes started to bleed
Half-crazy, miserable, palpitating over black coffee
How long have I been a prisoner of this cranky bed?
So, I tried to draw blood again from my pale wrists
And wrote my dreams on the coffee-smudged pad
Of you and me dancing under the pale moonlight
T'was but a vague dream, surreal but so sad!
As tears outlined my scrawny cheeks, I wrote this:
"I've been writing poems for you but,
Please read this before I run out of blood..."
My bad! No apologies, I know I've hurt you a lot.
As what lights up, and suddenly
Gives it everlasting fame;
That once dim-walked part of it;
Or what sadder, dimmer
And ever unspotted, lane-sulked
For city's lonely shame;
At just the right time and place
With scroll a-flutter in hand
Fate's Archangel! In whose outline
Unfuzzed if foggier
What in the person of True Love
Before them now does stand.
Obviously, he could not include
internal organs all of those biological systems,
beside he was a little fuzzy
about what went where.
He had 3-D printed a chair,
testing his and the machines skills,
its four legs walked around for an hour
bumping into walls and stumbling over curled rugs
but then would walk no more.
It was relegated to another room
where it still sulked.
Next time he might try to make one
with eyes.
She would have to be hollow.
Brains would be tricky also,
best to have emptiness between her ears,
however he could copy eyes, nose, and mouth
and all other facial features.
He probably could work from memory
regarding her sexual parts.
When his wife came home and found a shell of a woman
lounging on the couch and giggling at his amusing quips
she asked him to 3-D print a gun and bullets for her
he did,
of course but should have known better
for later that night she shot them both with it.
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