I love summers
going with whim,
being with him.
What can compare
to no schedule, no plans,
the cool of martinis
or beachside bikinis?
an underdressed me,
outright hedonism,
shapeless Freedom.
I love Fall
The hustle of classes
their immediate demands
the need for fierce focus,
and the challenge of exams.
The overprepared me,
intense, mental involvement,
a future, academically solvent.
two such separate worlds
that can never collide
which is actually better?
I can't decide.
Both are simply systems with costs
the texture of one, depends on the other
and neither state is fully sustainable.
.
.
Songs for this:
Wake Me Up When September Ends by First to Eleven
Another brick in the wall by Pink Floyd
At first glance, time had stopped.
The air felt light, a sweet scent followed the current.
A solar flare, there she stood.
Weeks of dreading, months of pondering.
Years of emotional tournament.
Was it all worth it?
Sleepless nights, mental starvation.
Loathing for that bright light,
always a little out of reach.
Freezing forests,
traces of growth exterminated.
Black skies weep droplets of sorrow.
Always too early, and always too late.
A path that splits in two,
yet I’m always walking a familiar road.
An uninspired rhythm,
a melody lacking any hint of beauty.
It's nothing more than noise.
Born to follow my heart,
I can’t endure the harsh tune of hers.
It was always bad timing.
Underdressed and bold, overdressed and vulnerable.
There has always been an unspoken truth.
With wings clipped, unable to fly away.
Blood embedded in the snow, bones pierced.
Break through this barrier and reclaim the sky.
Soar as high as you want, my friend.
A galaxy heart, free to explore the universe.
Go, be at peace.
( For all the girls in the Western cape)
I am Oudtshoorn's odyssey of opulence, so ornate I make Aphrodite look underdressed.
My form is a sculptural miracle that bends light and reality with a mere whisper of perfection.
I am the quiet queen of the Klein Karoo, and my beauty is literally the oxygen you breath.
Scientists claim the stars rearranged themselves just to spell out my name in cosmic awe.
I am the ocular opera everyone wishes they had front-row tickets for.
To speak of my beauty requires a new language made entirely of sighs and rapturous adjectives.
Hot as hell and bloated to burst,
I’m filled with this desire to tame.
You’re wild but I have such a thirst
as your shape fills my doorframe.
Overstimulated and underdressed?
Proceed to the pernicious playroom.
I knew before your whisper confessed
that such intensity was not a costume.
Sweet is more than it seems my dear,
a dash of mouthwatering strawberries.
Mix in the heat of a Carolina Reaper,
I tend to become loud, my voice carries.
Have I raised a bit of interest yet,
do you possess a gambler’s mind?
Are you willing to place a small bet,
put on a scarf and enter my room blind?
See that Boody advertisement to the right?
Each of those three young ladies are a delight.
They are sporting undies sold by their company.
What a beautiful sight they are conveying to me!
The one on the bottom is the one I like best.
Chubby girls all look great when are underdressed.
I wish that lady could pop right out of the screen.
Together, we would make quite an amorous scene!
I open my eyes.
All around me,
everything is unfamiliar:
unfamiliar wallpaper,
unfamiliar white leather sofa,
unfamiliar country.
I moved here to teach,
and here I am learning
that I’m underprepared,
underqualified,
underdressed,
and hungover.
He wouldn’t let me leave last night,
you see.
As the party was dying,
I coloured his bathroom
with oversweet Georgian wine
and washed down chicken wings
that came back up.
He decided:
I could miss the last metro,
sleep on this atrocious sofa,
recover.
Of course,
now it’s 7am,
and I have to teach a class
of engineers,
bridge builders,
about ing phrasal verbs
in less than two hours.
And I have to do it
with a hangover and a smile.
I think to myself
as I struggle with front door locks and keys
before climbing out of a downstairs window,
what a strange story this will be.
And yet waking up here,
it could be a whole lot worse
than this beautiful Baku sunrise.
The sparrows praised the morning sun,
He hugged the forest in his warm- outreached arms
The sun cascaded and grazed his fingers through every crisp leaf,
Over every sleepy tenant- illuminating their curiosity for each other
And the breeze laughed- happy to be alive
She laughed as she ruffed every tree,
All now fully dressed
She cackled down from the clouds and into every burrow
The family of trees just stood by watching the neighborhood awaken
Cousins rubbing elbows- Fathers shading their sproutlings
Creaking in quiet protest to the construction worker woodpeckers
Just happy at the turn of the weather
And the early blooming lilies gossiped to themselves
About the underdressed daisies
And the breeze disturbing their groomed leaves
And how the sun was too hot so early
The sky watching them all rejoicing,
For she wasn't alone anymore,
Left with bleeding ears from the squirrels complaints of the cold
Landlord to to all she welcomed them back to her care
In bloom was it all, and all was in bloom
March 1, 2023
In bloom poetry contest
Joseph May
Ripples of vibrant streams stagnate
Songs of flapping birds relocate
Forest rustles hibernate
Skeletal trees shake, underdressed
Mushy, scabbed apples numbly rest
Brisk, harsh breezes pierce life's chest
Pruned trees develop healing scars
Skies of pewter, stone, and smudged chars
Meet to contemplate the stars
Sorrow and indifference blend
A crocus and daylight ascend
~The beginning of death's end
1/21/2021
You slept in, I walked to the beach
“I love you” an old American hippy yelled
”And the mosquitos do too!”
My big red welts
A souvenir of our night in Guanica
A stay forced by the Puerto Rican cop
Who pulled you over for “speeding” at 5pm
License to be returned when you paid the fine
Payable only at the police station, which closed at 5pm
You weren’t speeding
But you were Nuyorican
Without a word of Spanish
He would have locked you up if he could
The hotel he said was nearest
(perhaps owned by his dearest?)
Had a pool, empty save for cracks and a coconut
We were the only guests
Yet we were underdressed
For the bar
Two local grand dames and an old colonel
In full regalia
From another time
Sipping their nightly resurrection
When I stepped naked into the bathroom
And switched on the light
A hundred mosquitos fed in a frenzy
as if they’d waited all their lives
for me
The old hotel was the highlight
Of our trip
And of our time together
You could never want me
The way those mosquitos did
vulnerable shoulders scantily clad
bare of protecting pauldron
without his strong arms encompassing
chest underdressed
short of a shield
without his beating breastplate pressing
helmet unharnessed
mind recklessly unleashed
without comforting thoughts of our melding
beaming brass unattached
sword unwielded for defense
strong arms to swing ~ missing
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Chosen title: Defenseless
3/2/2020
an old ripped tarp argues with the wind
the NO TRESPASSING sign trembles
an underdressed scare crow ‘crazy dances”
mocking a city dweller manically hailing a cab
the warmth of the red barn lies to the field mice
offers only the emptiness of progress
sad hollow hope of grain-less silos
silent feathers watch as hunger preys
upon the return of every sunrise
an old ripped tarp argues with the wind
©1/20/2019
The forecast said it would be cool;
I packed some pants - I'm not a fool -
And long-sleeved shirts, but still unsure,
As I was heading out the door,
I grabbed my trusty purple vest
And wore it daily - who'd have guessed?
It's made of down and light as air,
Magenta-toned, to be quite fair.
So though the sunny warmth was gone,
I still felt cozy with it on.
I never will be underdressed
When I wear my UniQlo vest.
The large
man underdressed for November
booms at the uniformed
kneeling guy who pushes
chocolate bars on the shelf.
The lady glides, slimly with
forward pressed jaw and
questions in her eyes. I
rush down the aisle,
by the anti-organized children
and duty-bound citizens with
wealth converted into protein,
and worried-looking men.
An array of
cloth color contains bodies.
No music
only machines confidently
stating their instructions.
If you don't eat, you're anorexic if you do eat, you're a fat ass.
If you don't wear makeup, you're ugly. If you wear makeup, you're a fake.
If you're loud, you're annoying; if you're quiet, you're weird.
If you're good in school, you're smart; if you say something wrong, you're stupid.
If you take pictures, you're an attention-whore; if you don't stalk your friends you're not cool.
If you wear sweats, you're underdressed; if you wear a dress, you're overdressed.
If you don't have boobs, no guys like you; if you have boobs, they're fake.
If you don't have a boyfriend, you're a loser; if you have one, he's cheating on you.
You tell us to be who we are but then you go and judge us about it. So now, do you see how hard it is for us to just be ourselves?
Some time later I returned to Lake Norman,
not as an underdressed yet fearless sailor-man,
but as myself, passing through Davidson
late on a June Sunday afternoon
on my way to visit Duke University.
How lazy and peaceful it was that day!
How calmly the students meandered about
the innocent, quiet campus!
How cheerful the squirrels! How happy the clouds!
How glorious the sunset!
How small the world became at that moment
compared to the vastness of stormy days long since past!
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