The none affair
The celebration ran into a Dogger bank that had
been trawled of fishy life and turned into windblown sand
of the endlessly repeated.
Take-away food and Portuguese soap triteness was
the name of the monotony.
Red-eyed by watching tediousness in action, time for bed
hoping a dream of glory would restore disappointment.
Eight hours of pre-death, the thought landscape was dark.
The morning had cold sun on the verandah, a day had gone
never to return, swallowed up by the monolithic time
The celebratory bottle of wine collects dust on a shelf.
Categories:
triteness, absence, birth, birthday, faith,
Form: Vogon Poetry
Must life really change
Perhaps words just rearrange
Interests ~ triteness
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
triteness, allegory, allusion, life, riddle,
Form: Haiku
I saw the relaxing triteness of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the camp.
Now restful is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the camp is reposeful.
I saw the beautiful develop of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the spring.
Does the spring make you happy?
does it?
Autumn, however hard it tries,
Will always be cunning.
Does autumn make you happy?
does it?
I cannot help but stop and look at the chilly wintertime.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the wintertime,
Gently it goes - the unfriendly, the cool, the chill.
How happy is the warm summertime!
A summertime is tender. a summertime is excitable,
summertime is close, however.
Categories:
triteness, beautiful, spring,
Form: Free verse
Going to School
My school days was not a happy one,
although history and writing was interesting
I wrote that my father had a herd of camels
in Morocco, but math eluded me.
Something like, a baker who has two eggs and flour
how many cakes does he make? Who the hell is am I supposed to know.
The after school was more interesting I biked
around pretending to be an explorer and
played detective with scant success.
When not doing that the local library was my plank
from the triteness every day of poverty.
They knew me well at the library I can still smell
the books and the world they brought me.
Alas, the one I used has been closed down the politicians
of today always save money for the wrong thing.
Categories:
triteness, best friend, betrayal, birthday,
Form: Blank verse
If I had a song, it would wake me
in the dim before dawn with its buried
drumbeat of dogs breathing
beside the bed.
That song would tune up
past the window in a reedy piping
of some bird I never noticed,
setting up reverberations of dream.
A song would march me out the door,
where sun finds its notch
between pines, so I’d hold my palms up
open, soundless in applause.
If I had a song, it would keep me
going through the day, a tune I can’t
get out of my head, puzzling out
a word that seeks its rhyme.
A song would feed me, tease me,
blow me kisses and taunt
me with its triteness/rightness
till I became the song.
Categories:
triteness, imagination, life, song-song, me,
Form: Quatrain