A poodle lived in her shadow,
it was not ill-treated, just ignored,
its matted form
wandered around the house
looking to be noticed.
The living room
was littered with her underwear,
discarded bras, panties, garters and negligee.
I had no idea
why these things all came to rest here,
scattered around her like that.
I was an occasional pal of her son.
Once she fed a pink baby
from her own white flesh
as if not even noticing us boys.
The soft upholstery of the sittee
settled around her
proclaiming her sovereign presence.
The poodle hesitated to enter the room,
knowing, as we did,
we would never be part of her kingdom.
A poodle lived in her shadow,
it was not ill-treated, just ignored,
its matted form
wandered around the house
looking to be noticed.
The living room
was littered with her underwear,
discarded bras, panties, garters and negligee.
I had no idea
why these things all came to rest here,
scattered around her like that.
I was an occasional pal of her son.
Once she fed a pink baby
from her own white flesh
as if not even noticing us boys.
The soft upholstery of the sittee
settled around her
proclaiming her sovereign presence.
The poodle hesitated to enter the room,
knowing, as we did,
we would never be part of her kingdom.
A photon checked into a hotel,
a rather interesting sight.
It was asked "Do you have luggage?"
It said, "No, I'm travelling light."
When I'm at home I like to read books,
and relax in my dressing gown.
I'm reading a book about anti-gravity.
I just can't put it down.
Staying in shape is important,
of that there is no doubt.
I keep trying to exercise
but it just isn't working out.
My friend fell into an upholstery machine -
one of the strangest things I've ever seen.
Everyone was shocked and exclaimed "Wow!",
but I can say he's fully recovered now.
Mathematicians are so smart.
Their work is often stunning.
But to the guy who invented zero,
thanks for absolutely nothing!
There was a WWI soldier
whose name was Bobby Pederson.
He survived both mustard gas and pepper spray.
He was a seasoned veteran.
Computer scientists are brilliant,
I must admit.
How much do they like 0 and 1?
Quite a bit.
Written, September 13, 2024
For the I Form - Imagism Poetry Contest
Sponsor, Constance La France
Quote: Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons." By Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sight of the emerald lawn is exquisite_
lavender and azure threads intertwine,
elegantly placed in lines of budding leaves,
and young kids play and race with endless zest,
their upholstery is spread out in the yard.
And boxes laden with meals that Mama stuffed,
between biscuits, milk, cheese, jelly, and loaf,
Sunday outdoor activities are unforgettable.
A body of chipped paint and red rust,
A weathered windshield under the dust
Steering wheel aims in one last turn,
Dashboard suffers from many a sunburn
Her cracked mirrors are still adjusted,
Her upholstery is worn out and busted
Seats tilted since the last time driven,
Still positioned in an adjustment given
Smashed headlights and dull chrome,
Flat tires sunken into her final home
Once a brand new beauty, now, junk,
Only memories fill the empty trunk
The road trips taken across the nation,
Radio's still tuned to a favorite station
She's over the hill and forced to stay,
As yesterday's joyride eases into decay.
A scrapbook of soil
knits the land.
Earthworms patchwork
hidden birthing-chambers,
grit and gist abrades
into the leached sap
of leaf and grass.
Rain storms push up
an upholstery of luster,
mossy threads.
above tufted beds.
Frail daisy heads nod,
yet their roots grip and twist
as fibrous as hemp.
The turning lathe of a tireless wind
crumbles iron cities,
towers and arcades
stand emerald cast,
walls chained to creepers,
and a choking ivy.
Topsoil sinks to be
the undercroft of graveyards.
All is begun, all is lost
in the long gestations
of death and recovery.
Tempering's spun
beneath a settling moonlight.
Home from a chemo session, uncle lights up
a cigarette and collapses
to the slick plastic that covers your chaise
lounge, auntie. He thumps the upholstery
with his legs and elbows for blood
to circulate again. A flake
drifts. Dehydrated lips, uncle
inadvertently kisses ash. Cushions
puff up, deflate. Uncle floats
smoke rings to prove he still has breath.
Your bulbous urn ruptures his rings
on contact where curvature
casts uncle’s warped reflection, all mouth and smoke,
as he would rise to reach your urn on the mantle.
Uncle slouches back, watches his sports channel.
I head out with his hamper
and forget to check pockets before washing clothes,
his soggy receipts - - once grocery lists? - -
and tissues, torn apart, clumped up, fake snow
I have to scoop out of washing machines.
Absent-minded tasks at the laundromat, auntie,
where you’d bend in pain. Lint trays reinstall
fluff. I snap
and snap airborne dryer-flakes off towels.
The carpet was worn -
The pattern thin in some places,
But it was a “good” rug,
A real original Oriental.
We had others, too, and a
Silver tea service, slightly tarnished,
(Sterling, of course)
On the mahogany sideboard.
The upholstery on the
Living room chairs
Was a little tired, but
It was good “quality” furniture.
And we were descended from
Someone who came over
To this country on the Mayflower!
Mantras I heard many times
When I was growing up
In a “good” neighborhood
My parents could ill afford.
Mantras offered when I complained
That my friends had new furniture
Or prettier rugs, or, even worse,
Wall to wall carpeting.
No penny loafers for me –
I had a serviceable pair of shoes.
The “new” skirt was handed down
From a neighbor’s daughter.
Store clothes were from sales
And always “practical”.
Only years later did I finally
Realize my mother was making
The best of the hard times
And gave up much for us.
It was her way of trying
To make us proud of ourselves
And our heritage, to make up
For the things she couldn’t give us.
Dear car repair man received your bill of Friday last
Need I say when I read the sum it really made me gasp
The price of parts and hoses made up less than half
While the labour that you charged me that really made me laugh
The sum in total tallies twice what the car is worth
Even when the makers first produced its birth
I took my car to you for a tune-up and that squeak
You looked at it kicked the tyres said I could have it in a week
Now that old car it bumped and groaned but it usually got me there
Though at times I called it nasty names and sometimes I would swear
I know the paint is chipped and cracked the upholstery ripped and torn
But the radio it works just fine and it has a special horn
The tyres hold the air okay and the smoke is not that dark
And it usually gives a little sigh when I put it into park
I'd be sad to see the old bomb go it's really been a mate
Its been around for so long now I can't recall its date
I know it's not a new car and it has served me well
But rather than pay your outrageous bill
Why don't you drive it straight to hell
My favorite scent of them all by far
is that from the inside of a mint condition car.
Oh, the fragrance from that brand new upholstery!
To me, the aroma is so heavenly!
It's too bad that it's just temporary.
Yes, the smell is unfortunately not permanent.
It goes away after I make the first payment.
written March 15, 2011
Behind the fence in somebody's vacant lot,
stands an old automobile that has been left to rot.
The metallic body is falling apart with rust,
while the upholstery reeks with mold and must.
The glass is shattered. There are missing parts.
It's a sure bet that this auto never starts.
While the tires are flat, it certainly appears
that the car hasn't travelled roads in many years.
Even though the last owner gave it the heave-ho,
it may have been in a dealer's showroom long ago.
Back at the ranch
The 'new normal'
is a case
of Bud
in the basement fridge
Meanwhile
A/C grinding away
TV flickering
Clumps of munchies
stuck to the upholstery
Kids glued to devices
whirring away --
Hey, Where'd Hope go?
Conversation-enders
abound
Why, oh why can't I deny
That the ones I love
Are causing my soul's hope to die,
But will you ever see it from my point of view
Or will you always consider my treasures
Were stored up for your constant abuse,
I graced your existence with the glistening seas
Provided you with an upholstery of richly colored trees
What more could I give to satisfy your needs?
You greed became a mockery to my dreams,
My toil and my labour expressed a love pure and true
Why can't you understand I created all things for you?
And though I hurt to see your apathy towards me
It is my overindulgence of you over the years
That has made this monster, Climate Change, roam free.
Low void on the high end
Teared fists in midst of Tears of mist
Tarried sand on the solo voyage twist
Of the cause, and still the reason
Between the terrain and the everlasting rains
An unfolded mind of upholstery
It could be ease; this life could have been easier
Only under the generalization of the new age
The barrier and frontier
And the archival of the old ages
Living a Promise, Praying a will
Will all be as is, as is seen from will,
Never to regard it therefore as a wheel ,
For it never turns as expected,
One more number added, one more increment of increase
Another appreciation to be said , another honor to manifest
A gift at hour, worth a gift in life time
Since cultivated at hour, for life or more
Less or least, west or east
Emotions are sagging beast, dwelling coast
Tag dragged to make and live you crying
Straight out the heart crawling
It wasn’t farewell , it was hope to meet in future
And a courage to lose attachment ,the desire to ignore existence.
A poodle lives like a shadow.
It is not ill-treated, just ignored,
so it moves from room to room
but stays away from her couch.
The place is littered with her underclothes,
discarded bras, panties, garters and negligee.
I had no idea
why these things all came to rest here
scattered around her like that.
To me, she seemed to rule them all;
displaying them
as a kind of sovereign insignia.
I was an occasional pal of her son.
Once she fed a newborn from her own white flesh.
The soft upholstery seemed to settle around her,
closing its wide mouth about them both,
including all the discarded clothing.
The poodle wandered away,
perhaps sensing it would could never be
part of her regalia.
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