Cat three-tooth, cat stone-deaf, cat sidewinder walk,
Old Bealman stalked the croaking, the croaking,
with forepaws meek stroking
airs of a summer cool night.
Bealman, Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Bealman—frog fisher & free.
Delphinium, the roses, lupine interposes
a shadow of fortressed green leaf
disguises the notion my Bealman supposes—
to seize, dismember it through,
make self-concocted, dishering frog stew.
Bealman, Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Bealman—frog fisher & free.
Night hours accounting, morning’s surmounting,
a bird warning Bealman, his patience to thin.
Croaking still blending, a flower stalk was bending,
two legs, peaking out, sent Bealman straight in.
Bealman, Oh my Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Frog fisher & free.
I saw Bealman beaming; I saw Bealman beaming.
How cats manage beaming I’ll wonder again.
Since Bealman was twenty, any beaming is plenty.
I loved my old Bealman, my frog fisher friend.
Bealman, Bealman, my meow dear Sealman,
Frog fisher & free.
A Well-Dressed Mess
Sometimes she feels damaged and dark.
and that no one really sees or knows how deep it goes.
The contrast is stark.
Difference is night and day.
Her aura and love for others shines as bright as the sun.
While her heart is as heavy and clouded as the sky when the storm comes.
Every time, she thinks she finds a safe space to be herself… feel seen, heard and understood.
it dissipates right before her eyes…
like cotton candy in a bowl
of water.
She tries to grasp at it, but before she knows it,
it’s gone.
She finds comfort in her solace and solitude,
because she’s unmasked and declothed.
No white picket fence & garden full of roses,
with pleasant smiles and false supposes.
Just her. No expectations and room for
discernment from others. The ones who
never really see her, are the ones who
stay... She is still figuring it all out. “I'll just take it
day by day”, she says.
She’s a composed, poised and “well-dressed” mess.
Striving for independence and trying to be strong
But, constantly succumbs to emotional distress
As though she deserves it.
Amidst the mist of drops so fine,
Among the burst of celestial shine,
In company of butterflies bright and roses eternal in light.
What does my heart supposes?
Am I thinking of the distant dream?
Am I pondering on the time I lost?
Am I figuring out the castle shrouded in mist?
Am I longing for the house adrift?
I want to float in that hot air balloon.
And softly touch the pearly moon.
I want to shed my somber mood.
And dream of rainbows, to do some good.
On the last ring of the phone
Just around the corner, but unknown
A night spent apart, alone
As a mourner for the lorn
A dozen roses for another hectic day
On Valentine's day one never supposes
The reason for being fashionably late
In the movies, in the seats
One on, and one off the train
(As the background music begins to play)
One on each side of the door
with words, but none we say
The crescendo then the scene segue
I'm Astaire, Gable, Grant and Kong
To your Ginger, Marilyn, Audrey and Fay
I'll see you at home tonight, don't be long
We just missed each other today
the shock
72% of the inhabitants of Israel
Approve of Netanyahu's treatment of
the people of Gaza
One supposes their TV shoves the same
horror as we see
It is as the people of Israel are beset by
an inner truth that destroys their soul
and lead them into self-destruction
For, we need a long spoon when
dealing with Israel
I am the wife; the loving, faithful wife.
His children’s mother and, he says, his life.
He tells me he loves me, brings me roses
And I believe him, he supposes.
And yes, I do believe he loves me in his way.
Love that we’ve had can’t simply fade away.
But he’s not mine alone, I know full well.
He forgets I never wear Chanel.
I am the husband, wracked with guilt,
Trapped in the web of lies I’ve built.
I know in my heart the right thing to do.
I stood in church and vowed to be true.
But I was weak and fell for temptation
And find myself in this situation.
I have to end it, I know for sure.
But, before I do, just one week more.
I’m the scarlet woman, mistress if you will.
My part in the story, a once a week thrill.
A cameo role in a tale of deceit.
A tale that for me must end in defeat.
He says he’ll leave her; I know that’s not true.
But things might change if only she knew.
So I’ve thought of a plan to make him mine.
I’ve sprayed his shirt with Chanel Number nine.
Played
Every other's antennas oftentimes are up, An emotional
state that everything is mental being free from deceit.
Unguarded emotions impulsiveness and vulnerability
routinely get taken for granted in games of strength,
distractions are often hypocritical and shady. Rules
are broken, and trust is deceptive powerless to be played.
Survival of the mentally fit supposes everything has cause
and consequences who you thought you played
well, you played yourself.
Just suppose,
you juxtapose
date and time…
early riser,
back home
before
you’re supposed
to go. A riot,
that it seems
my brain
pauses, supposes
it knows
everything,
but the calendar gleans
the truth,
the text reveals
I’m all
mixed up.
Most of the time,
I get it right,
but,
once in a while,
my brain
misfires,
however,
I’ll not fire
the old gal -
I’ve depended
on her
all
these years!
i do supposes...
raindrops on roses
are too wet for noses
when walking i goes-es
Summer
did arrive today
A beautiful sunrise
an azure blue sky
A gentle breeze
as the Sun beams down
Banishing
Vanishing
Winter’s frown
Taking a walk
On the promenade
Smiling faces
Such happy souls
Look forward to dipping
their winter white toes
Though cold it will be
in the sparkling blue sea
At the end of the day
With their bright red noses
How sore they will be
no sun cream one supposes
But happy are they
on this first summer’s day
For tomorrow it may rain
in the UK ~ by sea
Written 14th May 2022 after the warmest day this year...
Contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
A dozen ducks were bobbing
On the river - what a sight!
The fact that there were 12 of them
Just filled me with delight.
If there had just been 2 or 3
I’d not have been impressed
And, at first glance, a dozen
Wasn’t what I would have guessed.
Of course I counted! Now, when thinking
Dozens, one supposes,
I should add ducks to Christmas days
And bagels, eggs and roses.
Bundled for the weather
Was an old man on the street.
He pushed along a shopping cart,
His purchases complete.
I’ve no idea what things he bought
Except for, one supposes,
A treat meant for his Valentine –
A dozen bright red roses.
For love and its expressions,
Sometimes difficult to gauge,
On this date make folks affectionate,
Regardless of their age.
If anyone supposes
That life should be a bed of roses
How boring this would be
With no diversity
Roses have prickles the blossom exposes
Sometimes a person supposes,
When asked to describe how things are,
That talking of rainbows and roses
Will hide what might startle or jar.
By painting a picture so sunny,
Believing you’ll fool those who asked,
What happens, I’d bet even money,
Is that some will know truth has been masked.
For lies rarely stay nicely hidden,
Since facts often end up revealed,
Exposing the one who, unbidden,
Learns guile’s a bad weapon to wield.
Was the Woman made for me or
Was I made for the Woman
Am I to rule over her or
She supposes to rule over me
Is her desire for me or
My desire for her
Please tell me, Lord,
Love the Woman I gave you
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