Toned Poems

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HOME
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Home, the echo reverberating deep within my chest.
Old sepia toned photographs hung in sunlit halls.
Memories dance like dust motes in the afternoon light.
Echoes of childhood hopes and fears etched in memory’s skin.

A surging dirge '

Deep in the bush i hear  'the snapping of sticks' a sound that flat toned sits with a
Feeling.. Just so sick.' When did Vice-pol
Really get so bad? No shes just not right.'
Wow the vibes real sad.' I think of their 
Estate? unravelling fast now.' Tailing off
Like a dingo's howl.! They have returned to
Their vomit..As will most dogs, eager to  eat..At this thought i hear the lyre-bird sob..Its the Sound now of Victoria ..A place now hard of face.' Bereft of exuberance, yet not, yet beat.. And 'with mind on that 

shelf' built in twenty twenty and maintained, by this force.? For dan's selfish self'
I wish to exit this museem..Or  cell filled with
Much re-morse.' And i'm overwhelmed in
Anger, as the dirge deafening loud; does course..Near as
Much as the bush silence can hold your attention.. All round  and God i can't escape this sick feeling in either solitude or crowd'

Aunt Fays Cat Chair

the cat chair was loved from 1962 to this day
It was purchased with lots of moola by my Aunt Fay
At the time it was shocking, nothing other women would buy
She was ahead of her years, she conformed to no woman or guy

Aunt Fay loved the cat chair, it was reserved for her alone
We did not dare sit in it, even to talk on the phone
For it was her domain, her favorite furniture piece by far
Her next favorite possession was her two-toned Riviera car.

I Am Green

My skin is light olive-toned with green or green-yellow
undertone and the veins on my wrists appear mostly
green, the color associated with natural world, like
plants, trees, grass symbolizing life, growth and energy.
 
I am the color of living life, feeling incredibly alive with 
energy and excitement to explore, discover, experience,
create, learn to grow emotionally and spiritually to evolve.  

I am the color of wealth, like the striking emeralds, sparkling
peridot, and money to meet the needs of ordinary people or
to magnify the status and self-worth of the rich and famous.

For Comparison Competition

Happy Mother’s Day!
Hooray, should I say?
Nay! ‘Tis naught but disarray you fool

I dodge ducks – their beluga-toned feathers at least– 
and the platinum pillows from whence they came
Whizzing by like my long four years of fame,
Eggs of pikachu hue, toast of darkest sinew

Oh no, I must go
She’s as happy as a blobfishy
How was I to know
Her special day was two months ago?

Simmer

The simmer of a summer sky
                   by favor of the golden sun
Invites my mind to seek and play
                  such memories of summer fun

Recalling lust of days gone by
       for sands of youth on beaches fair
Still tickles toes as oceans spray
               and salted breezes dance on air

For tantalizing tan-lined skin
      all copper toned in glistened  glow
I further reach inside my thought 
                  remembering, my senses flow

The simmer of such sanguine spin
                   on summer reverie in heat
Still scorches as my brain is caught
         and summer’s sandals burn my feet

Marlas Cat Turquoise

There was a plethora of magical cats in Marla’s magic hat.
She concealed two of them from the regular populace.
The naysayers, doubters, and the ones on the fence.
Knowing they could not handle Turquoise who was outrageous.

Turquoise is a tabby who materialized or rather transmogrified.
Appearing on a Saturday six years ago in June. She watched him do it.
Not only does he speak English, he speaks sailor, his words are blue.
Luckily, he is not fond of children, and hides when they are afoot.

Turquoise has a mini cat named Goofball who sits on his purple hat.
Goofball does not speak to Marla directly; Turquoise interprets.
Sometimes she wonders if he is making the gobbly gook up.
Turquoise acts as her muse, enticing her to do outrageous things.

Thanks to his influence, she has six tattoos, and her hair is two-toned.
She wears vintage steampunk clothes, and she takes no guff off anyone.
Marla was shy and dull before Turquoise arrived in her apartment.
She is outrageously outgoing now, grateful to him for her new journey.

Woman , Yours

Oh dear ! You are better off
I’m not a smiling doll
to play with you 
Don’t  stain me
with your fingers and words
I’m possessed by a holy evil
Don’t yell my dear !
Even as an embryo 
the world knows -
I’m a witch
I didn’t bewitch you 
Don’t think too highly of yourself 
You were a nomad 
who lost your  way
in my fog of love
You want to burn me alive ?
Do you think you can ?
Oh dear ! Rub your eyes ,
blink away the fog
I’m toned like soot and 
smell like smoke 
Where is it !?
I miss the spark in your eyes
Dear , come at me !
Set the pyre alight, I crave flames 
The sizzle of flesh and bones
turning into ashes 
Never leaves me soulless
Oh dear ! I love you , 
Do you dare take me -
as your woman anew ?!

A Walk Under A Ladder

Roll back the tides of time, and tell,
Of ancient books of myths, of hell,
Of temperance, nuns succumbed to gloom,
Entombed within their living tombs,
Of monks, and saints, and gospel song,
Born gently by the breeze, along,
Of deep toned organs' peeling swells,
Of virgins, Mary, and funeral knells,
Of dim-lit cells and penance loaned,
Which can for one's darkest deeds, atone,
Look back and lift the veil of night,
And view the man, the anchorite,
There he sits, so sad, so pale,
Shuddering at superstition's tale,
Crossing his chest with meager hand,
While saints and priests, a motley band,
Array before him to urge their claim,
To heal, in the Redeemer's name,
To climb the heavenly ladder, made,
By every patron, of every grade,
From wealthy abbot, fat and fair,
To starving child, withering there,
All of them eager to usher in,
The soul, ransomed by It's sin,
And tell me hapless bigot, why,
For what, for whom did Jesus die,
If pyramids and statues of saints must rise,
To form the passage to the skies,
Would you think man can wipe away,
With what but penance, day by day,
One single sin, too dark to fade,
Beneath a bleeding Savior's shade.

Tiny Home

Wind outside my tiny home, wreaking chaos on its porch
Wicker chairs and potted plants, stand firmly against its force
Finely tuned chimes sound loudly, sending sweetly toned notes into the night
A candle I’ve lit flickers, with the flow of cool currents through aging wooden panes
As the warm glow from the fire, now comforting, fends off the chill from a cool springtime rain
Tuxedo cats hardly notice a thing, intertwined into something resembling a fine sable
Opening one eye on occasion, then quickly returning to twilight 
The fire logs let out a soft sounding hiss, as they shrink into hot glowing embers
Fixing my gaze towards its vibrant colors. Comforting, Hypnotic 
Drift off to sleep with sounds of a storm. Who’s sharp pitches and tones
Guiding me gently like binaural beats and theta waves
Into another state, created by conscious choice. A world of making all my own

In the Flower Garden

“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” – Audrey Hepburn

It was late afternoon, and the sun was casting a shadow on the flower blooms
The light breeze refreshes the garden as scents wafts of earthy perfumes 
The hibiscus stood tall with jewel toned disc flowers in pots near the iron gate
Songbirds are happily building nests as they fly to nearby trees with their mate
Chipmunks and squirrels run and steal seeds as they mutter and chatter through
I set my book down for a moment while in my chair to enjoy the beautiful view
My garden is my sanctuary, a peaceful place amongst all the scents and hues

Memories of Yesterday

Memories Of Yesterday

A drawer filled with tattered
worn albums. 
Each album holds sepia
toned pictures.

Photos of long dead members
of the family tree.
Most of them I never
knew.

I rarely look at them as
they are the past.
I hold on to them 
because I am part of them.

I see a blank spot
reserved just for me.
I too will become one
of them some day.

Alien Wedding

They had never seen or heard of a wedding before
But they wanted one that would last forever more
Just a few humans, they cautioned me, not so many.
Would you rather have ten, or could I invite twenty?

No photos, except maybe one, to take back on our ship.
I noted a bunch of rules coming out of my alien friend Hip.
Do we have to wear clothes? She asked me, concerned about it.
It would probably be the best, I said, hoping she would not have a fit.

They dressed up in colors, that matched their triple-toned skin.
He had never looked more handsome, her groom Old Finn.
We gave them a sendoff and a wedding to boot.
Then they had to blast off, the bride and her crotchety coot.

Sounds of Spring

Adipose-dereived stemcells
to aid in weight loss.

They foogle to help
to make better the person
who's health is compromised
by the misery of undesired weight
targeting fat loss
which is to influence
weight loss.

Oh the health of these people
that they wish and need and
desire to be healther
the wisest of those
too learn
and make better there craft
might a world
find the secret to
a healthier life
style

BY Heremes Gymnasia
from Full-Toned
to brighting
From the book
Heremes The Timbre'

Same Old Boys

Spaghetti drips from old-fashioned lips
like a cascading waterfall; the pics,
yellowed; and clothes, of three fellows,
sepia-toned. Commonality of hunger
or mere curiosity as directed at the bulb.
Whether eyes, mmm, while closed, open
or scant, the fullness of pleasure of pasta
dripping from their mouth; today’s boy
just shows off all his food on the tongue.

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