The Lute
This is the time of meanings,
secret codes, suddenly appearing
unexplained. This is a dark time
at the tippling edge of day.
Now I speculate about what I am seeing,
I link it to impossible theories.
.
This is a state we are warned about.
If anyone knew about this,
they would feel the danger.
I know the danger, the fear of it
rumbles in my mind.
Yet it gets more distinct
like the strumming of a lute.
Categories:
tippling, age, emotions,
Form: Blank verse
tippling but not toppling
bending like a willow in the north win
pushed down by loud shouts of thunder
I ride the crackling lightening
feeling like a wind surfer
knowing I will end up back on top
optimism rules
Categories:
tippling, life,
Form: Free verse
Dad could roll a cigarette
with just two fingers
and the tip of his tongue.
I saw him do this once
in a wind storm.
He would shave close enough
to keep his grizzled face
blue by moonlight.
He could dive easy into an engine
to hunt out a rattle or a hiss
then twist its tail with a wrench;
make it purr.
He could blarney a half truth,
yarn it all out to fuddle
many a scholar.
He was an expert drinker,
astounding all-comers
and never tippling over
a knife edge.
When he walked in my shoes
I felt I could do magic also.
He would tell me
that I had to be a genius
to be my kind of dumb.
That was old-fangled conjuring,
a natural hocus-pocus -
I practice a little of that.
myself.
Categories:
tippling, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Dad could roll a cigarette
with just two fingers
and the tip of his tongue.
I saw him do this once
in a wind storm.
Magically
he would shave just close enough
to keep his grizzled face
blue by the light of a yellow moon.
He could dive easy into an engine
to capture a rattling rat,
then twist its tail with only a wrench
- a drop of oil
to make it purr.
He could blarney a partial truth
with a waggish smile,
yarn it all out to fuddle
many a cocksure scholar.
He was an expert drinker,
astounding all-comers
and never tippling over
a canny knife edge.
He controlled his bootstraps
with a devilish dominion.
When he walked in my shoes
I felt I could do magic also.
He would tell me
that I had to be a genius
to be my kind of dumb.
That was old-fangled conjuring,
a natural hocus-pocus,
I practice a little of that
myself
in his roguish memory.
Categories:
tippling, poetry,
Form: Free verse
April, you fetch flowers of spring to rise;
Lacing in verdant green and fruit to reap.
Gardens seed bloom, whist bees and butterflies
Saunter by tippling passion nectar deep.
Renew daytime length increase leaden skies
Whist nighttime length decreasing; fitful sleep.
4/22/2020
Poetry Contest: Each Letter Threads The Verse
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Categories:
tippling, april, butterfly, flower, garden,
Form: Rhyme
Tippling I’m from the ink-pot by the pen
Fool drunkard on the path of expression
Wandering I’m on the bone of thorax
Going to leprosy feelings of thrall
No smiling, no crying, paralyzed I’m
An obsession invites only to grope
Seemingly got I everything alone
But in light discover me as nothing
Oh! It is trap in white path of paper
Inks concise me in self sorrowful bud
Oh! Its ladybird in my lame writings
Blindly kisses hypnotic nectarine
Blundering blends me without self knowing
Its way of wisdom but sore illusion
-November 27, 2018 Chattogram
Categories:
tippling, how i feel, self,
Form: Blank verse
Jean, Jean wis young an' alive till Ah gied her tatties and neeps;
Noo she's bein' seek as a dug, it fairly gies me the creeps.
Bonnie Mary O' Argyle took a trip tae the Brig O' Doon,
She took a dook oaf the parapet, ended up nearly bein' drooned!
Wee sleakit, cooerin', timorous beastie, ye must think it a sin!
Aw the lassies a' ever kent, wanted tae stab me wi' a pin.
Blythe Hae a' Been on Yon Hill, where a Tippling Ballad ah Wrote;
Gude Ale Keeps the Heart Aboon, when ye drink an awfy lote.
Categories:
tippling, april, humorous,
Form: Verse
Twilight Fades Soon
Twilight fades soon. Scarlet Sun sinks.
Thin transparent cloud floats and winks
soft sweet soothing colorful rays
as Sun-spectrum gladly displays.
Piece of cloud glistens in purples- pinks.
Illuminated cloud prompt drinks
health of twilight. Tippling it thinks,
colour-bath it truly enjoys.
Twilight fades soon.
Delight of twilight reached its brinks.
Piece of cloud lost all color-links.
For Moon light, sad cloud wishes, prays.
Night merges with stars in arrays.
In the East crescent Moon just blinks.
Twilight fades soon.
07/11/16
Categories:
tippling, color, eve,
Form: Rondeau
Whooshing waves as runs and plays
Sprinkling its part here and there
I lay amid the tippling sound
My legs in water, but thoughts somewhere.
The clouds bathing in sun’s rays
Makes the image of familiar objects
The wind blowing from left to right
Inspiring the leaves to start a new subject.
The flowers as they blush away from wind
When the wind steals their fragrance
To dispose it off to the grass
Who lie lonely on the ground, at a distance…
Where I lie with my eyes wide open
My legs in water, but thoughts somewhere
I see the reflection of my thoughts in water
And besides me, I see him there…
Categories:
tippling, love,
Form: Romanticism
I've mused for hours trying to develop something brilli-ant,
And have tossed aside many topics as being irrelev-ant.
The subject of "ants" caught my fancy as being signific-ant,
Tho' 'tis a matter of which I'm somewhat ignor-ant!
I pen this with tongue in cheek and am a bit nonchal-ant,
And enter territory at which I'm very nonconvers-ant.
I'll broach the theme and maybe we'll become so cogniz-ant,
That folks'll marvel at my savvy for being so observ-ant!
I trust I'll be forgiven if I seem a bit insouci-ant,
But I relish the chance to be a little flamboy-ant!
My spouse opines that such versifying is ineleg-ant,
Mortified that folks might think me a tippling inebri-ant!
If here and there I've been some redund-ant,
And some words and phrases are not exactly trench-ant,
Please be merciful to me your humble serv-ant,
For upon the issue of "ants" I'm not a savvy sav-ant!
Hallelujah! 'Tis the end of this rhyme and I'm euphori-ant!
This verse won't win Poem of the Month per my account-ant.
But, no mind, 'tis fun now and then to play the miscre-ant,
Penning outrageous verse for which I have a "pen"ch-ant!
Categories:
tippling, funnyme,
Form: Rhyme
A sprig of flowers danced the dawn
Tip toed merrily across the lawn
The delicate ankle softly trips
As the dew her ethereal sips
Around her feet the birds did sing
From her smile the sun did bring
April showers and tippling rainbows
From her eyes the suggestion grows
Colours burst and blossoms fall
The gentle whisper of natures call
In the orchard we sat and whiled
Both at peace and dreams beguiled
And as the sun sets
In orange and red rivulets
The suns fall is the moons call
Stars are bright as moonbeams fall
While she skips and dances beams
I hold my heart, collate my dreams
Of a sprig of flowers forever mine
Of setting suns and dawns divine
Categories:
tippling, lovesun,
Form: Rhyme