A bird shat on my head today
Why he did it I could not say
Passing below a nice green tree
He suddenly let it go on me
My head was wet, it trickled down
And stopped amongst my disapproving frown
A tissue was required, Oh what a mess
A sorry state I must have looked I guess
As it dripped all down on to my shirt
All embarrassed, feelings hurt
It’s supposed to be lucky someone said
What to have a bird shat on my head
I retorted in an angry mood
Then laughed out loud when situation reviewed
It must have been funny to those near by
To see this bird with a very keen eye
Who flew away not to be seen again
But only his droppings did remain
Is it lucky, we will see
But I won’t forget the day he shat on me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With paws so swift they blur the eye,
Magical Marv works on the sly.
Three acorns dance—now watch them fly!
(But where's the pea? Don't even try.)
The woodland marks line up to play,
their nutty savings trickled away.
Marv grins and twitches, suave and fey~
Guess right? Oh dear. You owe me. Time to pay.
Funny, what the end could mean,
when it only ushers memories of days beginning
Trick and treats, it trickled;
the goods we laughed and jiggled,
and the bads we travailed, and pickle.
Our little world was rocked with its ‘ends’,
Mama’s sabbath rice treat to spirit that never bends;
over a steaming rite, lows made aright.
Please, world, while you end, right!,
build a wall round my memories’ site.
A single drop of water
Trickled …
Down the window glass
A subtle sign
Of things to come
Puddling there …
Finding shelter
In the crossed wood
It, too, wanted to hide
The darkest blue clouds
Cold, crisp winds
That bind my bones
Kept me behind the pane
A second drop of water
A third and fourth
Then … thousands
Made the golden leaves
Shine …
Like never before.
The youthful days
of hopeful dreams
and tears that trickled
into streams?
Love that flourished
in the sun
and faded
as quickly as it had begun?
Where are they now,
the incense prayers,
high as hopes
to one who cared?
The carefree days
of fearless whims,
the joy of voicing
songs and hymns?
Where are they now
the closest friends,
who said that
friendship never ends?
They're hidden within
my dream-filled sleep;
the sands of time
have buried them deep.
Raindrop-
Little raindrop how long and far did you travel?
How long has it been since I last seen you again?
Have you been busy cleansing the earth and sharing your worth?
Or were you in a river or a lake taking a vacation or a long break?
What about that time you trickled down the mountain and splashed in a natural fountain?
Have you been back up there since or did you just turn to air and go elsewhere?
Remember your time in the ocean and how the waves just kept you going?
How about that time without trying you saved that plant and kept it from dying and remember that Old Oak tree?
Maybe you remember that time you completely washed over me?
What about that time you set my spirit free when I couldn't be?
How come you hang out with clouds of gloom is that a warning to them that the sun is coming out soon?
And what about those days kids wait for you to go away so they can come out and play?
Don't they know your there to wash their fears away?
Your trip is never done but your always willing to soak in.
Because your stronger than rocks and ride the wind.
How much longer and further will you travel till I see you again?
A brook trickled easily down
As poetry running unbound
And I stood on a rock
To hear the steady stream
Of comely words gurgled.
A hazy shaft of light beamed down -
Laser-pointing through piney boughs -
And where it gently struck -
Columbine shined and teemed
The floor with emeralds.
People ask
as they wonder,
what holds
you? Is it
fear? Is it
doubt? Is it
distrust? or is it
all or
neither?
A flower is brought
into this world amidst
chaos
unknowingly
what it may
encounter yet
it remains
pure.
Confined by
discourtesy
trickled by
irregularities
lured by
fallacies yet
stands still as
nature's
gift
as it
shimmers
brightly.
What stings like wasps in hives,
Of trying minds' regret,
Invasive blips, flash frozen pictures,
Recalls, counterfeit,
Serrated icy sickled thoughts,
In glaciated snow,
Dread the warmth, the trickled stream,
Of thawing reapers' sown,
Sipping from the melt embibes,
The swarming, claustrophobic choke,
Alone the white hot heat of heart,
Scatters them with smoke.
The summer breeze lapped at my hair
Firmly yet gently lifting each strand
The warm caress of the sun
Brought happiness to my weeping skin
My lips parted as laughter
Freely trickled down my chin
My eyes lit a beaming path for my feet
As I began my evening walk
Abruptly I tripped and fell
Soberly I looked around
For the object of my humility
And found myself gazing into my own eyes
I had tripped and fallen over myself
Fighting to regain a composure
That proved to be elusive
I stood and faced myself
As I continued my evening walk
Yesterday took my youth
Each scene scripted
In blood, sweat and years
Laughter lived under the stairs
Only brought out on special occasions.
We would dine and say grace for tomorrow
Yesterday stored my mistakes
Regurgitated memories to drive the future me
To believe that today is possible
My present tense, my now
Though as each word is written
It is now my past
Did that second, that minute, bring to fruit
Teach me anything or was it the musings of a fool
Whose path is drawn in sand
Yesterday, why do you taunt me
As my frame abandons me, my spirit still dances under the snow moon.
A child who dreamt of more, but as life evolved the sand just trickled to air
Regret awaits tomorrow, today was never there! Yesterday took my youth!
I am a demon and I want to be better….
The priest stared at the girl
A smile flickered for a see on his face
He grunted a cough
A demon wouldn’t want better -he beamed with exaggerated sense of worth at his answer
She tilted her head up
Her sockets devoid or eyes
Just a black crude pool wisp of greys slithering its depths
I need to be better…help me
A tear trickled her face it course burning the skin
like lightening crackle….
The wood was perfect.
Hammer in hand, he toiled.
Sweat trickled down his neck.
Her face was chiselled,
A perfect portrait:
The hawk-like nose,
The high cheekbones,
The wide brow.
But not her flaring eyes.
They defied him.
In exasperation, he threw the lamp,
His only source of light,
And watched the wood burn.
In the deserted cabin.
In a wooded glen forlorn,
When the fire subsided
They found his body
Long dead, carbonised and cold.
And a piece of chiselled wood
Charred and worthless.
originally written in 10/4/2016
Police Remembrance Day …..
Whose shout is it today
And knowing who I looked away
For a tear trickled down
For a lost friend of some renown
Our ever shrinking group of friends
Smiled and remembered a time when
They made us smile at their antics then
So here’s to Absent Friends with love we send.
© Paul Warren Poetry
TIME
Thought of all the seconds,
That went like a mist at dawn.
Tried to hold all the minutes for lifetime
But it flowed like water with no grapple
Waited for the hours of fortunes that I desiderate
As you are the sun that quenches every soul of an incarnate
But being in you can burn the spirits with fiery fire
Hastened to get rid of the all the days of stormy clouds
Disregarding the silver linings around them that one needs to count on
And learned that you are the equinox of every mortal
Hoped for the years to go right
never disappointed even when the right seems to be left
All the ups and downs you placed
All the love and hatred you showered
All the laughs and cries that I held
Trickled in the brink of the eye
Waiting for you at the edge of the door
where you passed like a breeze that never noticed
Awaiting all the moments to fill again
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