Stray sheep play hide-and-seek
Knit one, Purl one, Knit Two together
Pick up a stitch, before it slips, and runs
Intertwining it, lest the pattern unravels
and the wayward flock topples over the cliff.
For sheep astray will play
with a wondering lust for wandering.
We suspect the house is haunted by ghosts,
Who welcome guests to stay with them as hosts.
They love it when you come and play along,
To their creepy charade, and karaoke song.
The sound effects are dialed-up on cue,
To respond to whatever you may ensue.
Floorboards creak without footfalls.
A plate untouched, slips, topples and falls.
Whispers whistle in trees devoid of breeze.
Doors creak and bang shut with ease.
The clock ticks out of sync and slows,
As you watch it pulse in ebbs and flows.
You hear footsteps creeping up to you,
You look back to see the floor's askew.
The house is rocking from side to side,
It's the ghosts laughing, enjoying the joyride.
Apples, apricot, blackberries, biscuits
Children ! Cheese cake, donuts, dozen drumsticks
Enjoy eating : Food for friends - fellow , fun !
Got guava- grapes ? Have hotdog honey- bun.
Irish Ice-cream ! Jam - jelly , juice in jar.
Jack, Jill, Junior John , jubilant joker !
knife in kitchen : Kids in knickerbocker.
Lying lazy lovely little lizard :
Laughing loud lion -lioness - leopard.
Micro- macro- minimal-maximal
New- naval-nascent ! Oblate or oval ?
Ostrich offered old owl, olive - orange !
Proud peacock playing prompt pretty plumage.
Quiet queen : Rabbit runs, restless rapid.
Swift squirrel ! Soft snail showing so slow speed.
Top topples ! Uncle under umbrella !
Vintage vehicle visits village - villa.
Wow ! Wonderful ! World wide website was won.
Yellow yak yawned in zing at zig- zag zone .
Young James always appears to be lazy.
Due to inertness, his mind gets hazy.
To the pool, he makes a tread.
Into it, he dips his head.
Losing his grip, he topples. How crazy!
In the calabash of life,
a profound journey unfolds
as the space
gracefully passes the baton
in the art of apprenticeship.
Success resonates like a fine chant,
akin to the resonance of the four-lobed kola nut
the water that flows,
immersing its feet
into gin and tradition.
The apprentice,
the Soldier's seed,
navigates the delicate balance
between the sun's dreams
and the moon's ways.
Hips sway
after the clover of the stars,
creating a dance
that echoes the celestial rhythm,
Taking nature in the fashion it is.
Within energy’s forte,
the apprentice remains steadfast,
untouched
by the mystic's contagion.
Breeze gently gives life to the air,
ensuring that peace
never topples over,
while the living
is meticulously scripted
in the sealed scroll of existence
The Apprentice knew anew.
In the scroll
where life is inscribed,
the celestial and clay beings converge.
The earth walks ways
where water was weaned
before birth,
guiding life in eleven directions —
light, lead, love, logic, luxury,
and power
flavored on six sticks of nature.
It is too cold for bat flights around the moon
but I take the trip anyway,
the jar of moonshine was crazy strong.
When this year topples into the next,
time will find me in a crowded stadium
my back turned from the game in disgust,
or maybe I will be crouched
like a comic book gargoyle on the top of my TV
watching pockets of insanity
explode like grenades
on a plasma screen dream.
If I am able to write without crushing my fingers
I will try to describe the roving bands of reapers
and their scythes;
how those kindly terminators ended
the fun-house peep show,
how also behind those hoody figures
hordes of blank-eyes city workers
dutifully moped up the spill, as if spilled brains
were as hazardous as banana skins.
Three-Kolored Ku (Now 10)
1. bluebird’s ear’s to ground –
pink collared worm (casts below)
now won’t grace black hook
2. blue days can have clouds,
yellow sun bursts pierce grey clouds -
rainbow’s arc mocks smile?
3. girls pink with envy,
boys made blue by sexist roles -
‘his story’ just black
4. greyed out politics –
blue and red (views, poop) both suspect
in the fog of war
5. red sunsets portend
dawn’s blue skies to those caring –
black thoughts rarely float
6. pumpkin’s orange loves
tomato’s ripened redness – light’s
short, black cat nights stretch
7. fall topples most green,
revealing vibrant colors -
reds, yellows – drab wins
8. poetry’s greenest
when planted fields change color -
red blood fades to black
9. green planet’s seasons,
the ocean’s blue expanses,
the earth’s spine - beached white
10. time’s future’s more dark
man’s ‘black’ and ‘white’ aren’t colors (1)
Grace – red, blood-cured wood?
Krakatoa Kritic #007
October 29, 2022
Poet's Notes:
(1) Black is the absence of light, hence no color at all.
White is a combination of all colors, so no color also.
They loiter, smoke pensively, whisper low.
some pace the thin snow
writing mist clouds that look like thoughts
roaming the night air.
All of them shuffle, wait and watch.
If the sky topples from the stars tonight
those who wait in the cold,
those watchers will still be there
for they're the dark silhouettes of myself
darker than any night they are.
Those forms are cut outs,
spectral representations
shaped by many a listless memory.
Long night vigils when I slept not
but somnambulantly waited
eyes glued to nothing.
P-earl of the orient,
H-ome to mixed races with
I-ndigenous inhabitants
L-iving
I-nterdependently,
P-rided with rich
P-atrimony,
I-nherited customs and traditions and
N-atural resources, graced by
E-xquisite maiden beauties and competitive human
S-pirit that topples down even the strongest storm.
September 13, 2022
Can't sleep once again because of power interruption. I'm glad I thought of penning this.
Late April and only
coltsfoot—Tussilago farfara—breaking leaf litter.
Our daffodils, peonies and crocuses
are also making signs.
April is the cruelest month, I forget why.
A sweet slow Spring
no sudden changes
each leg and leaf unfolds deliberately. You can't miss it.
New York City's spring rushes like a yellow cab
into summer. One day leaves are wet,
next they’re leather. I prefer this slow dance,
birds mating on the sky, peepers evolving into frogs.
Repairs take weeks or months. Septic,
garage door, cracked windshield, clean windows,
build bridge, buy land, rake leaves off erosion control,
cut wood, prune lilac, paint lawn chairs.
More carefully inspect, identify, the insect
of the week, a fly with an ant’s body
that skirts the grass and falls in drinks.
Look more closely! It will be gone in a few days!
Then it will be the time of moths or fireflies,
mosquitoes and wasps. Mud road,
red-winged blackbird. The slashing stream
topples old trees. My legs hurt.
The bones are loud and heavy
they don't like exercise anymore.
The treadmill chugs along
while vertigo topples unready toes.
Nothing can push these bones along,
time has filled them with concrete,
the rubble of marathons once run.
A young woman sprinting effortlessly
beside me smirks my way
as I stumble through a flat-footed mile.
Maybe she cannot see her future yet
while mine is clearly
painted on a wall I will soon hit.
Israel,since its creation in 1948,has close ties with Iran,which becomes the second Muslim country to recognise the Jewish state after Turkey.They become allies under the shah,Mohammad Reza Pahlavi.At the time,Iran is home to the biggest Jewish community in the Middle East.The 1979 Islamic revolution in
Iran topples the shah,dramatically ending the friendship between the two states.
Israel does not recognise the new Islamic Republic.The ayatollahs consider Israel illegal occupiers of Jerusalem and responsible for the"genocide"Palestinians.
Informal commercial links remain in place,however,Islamic Jihad becomes the first Islamist Palestinian organisation to take up arms against Israel in 1980,with Iran as its main backer and that is why Israel does not want Nuclear Iran.
Autumn's decay, brown leaves fall,
Corruption topples, governments lose all,
Righteousness fades, none stand tall,
Greed and cruelty erode trust's wall,
In this world, justice lies fallen.
Improper placement of a soup spoon
topples a marriage gone wrong
Recalling your voice in a war zone
keeps my heart beating strong
Revelers loiter in my backyard,
smoke pensively, whisper low.
Some pace the thin snow
writing their slow thoughts on the chill earth.
All of them shuffle and wait
for the big glittering yell
and the last minute kisses of reprieving angels.
At midnight I am not sure
where my thoughts will land
it is too cold for bat flights around the moon.
When this year topples into the next,
if not too weary of watching
from the top of my plasma screen,
I will crouch like a comic book gargoyle.
As the bells ring out
I might crack one gothic stony faced sneer,
listening stoically to ‘auld lang syne’
sung by roving bands of reapers.
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