Hydraulic system, heart made of pistons
Every co-ordinated mechanical manoeuvre
My heart served to you on a platter, your hors d'oeuvre
I look into your eyes, a deplorable disguise
Retinas of glass, I see right through your lies
Figments of my imagination
Don't come and cause me more vexation
Circling my mind
Tormenting, suffering, sempiternal gyration
My nerve endings started with you
Now unaware to whom
Now that you're gone
I can finally take off this costume
Now isn't the time for salvation
I re-evaluate our amalgamation
Not even an antisocial personality disorder
Could sum up a source of order
Wander your favourite forest
Walk past me and get hit with my poignant odour
Uncover my carcass, I don't need a hearse
Just dump me in the Oder
Dismember me piece by piece
Put me back together however you'd like
The puzzle wont be beautiful
Something incomparable to Vandyke
Henry VanDyke 'THE GRANDE CANYAN
GRANDE CANYAN
dnarg naynac
grand canyan
DNARG NAYNAC
GRAND CANYAN
dnarg naynac
grand canyan
DNARG NAYNAC
GRAND CANYAN
dnarg naynac
grand canyan
dnarg naynac
grand canyan
grand canyan
grand canyan
can yan
can yan
can yan
Too Much TV
David J Walker
I imagined
a grand theme song
And the applause
of a capitative audience
A clever line or two and then
The laugh track
Of an amused
though admittedly
phantom audience
I was as quick as
Dick VanDyke
And as light
on my feet
as Danny Kaye
as heroic
and stoic
as Matt Dillon in
Dodge City
And as good looking as
Ricky Ricardo
I knew every answer
Before it was asked
On What’s My Line
And fooled every panel on
To tell the truth
Every time
And it would not be long
Before my made-up song
Would debut on
The Ed Sullivan Show
TURN OFF THE TV
AND FINISH YOUR HOMEWORK
Hollard Mom a thousand times
And she would holler it
a thousand more
before
I was out the door
And on my way to
A career
In TV
news
No laugh track
No applause
Just the blues
Of another day
On your 10 O’clock news
So, yes
I grew up watching
Too much TV
Didn’t you?
The naked night; the wailing wind;
leaves in their flight are summers end.
Betwixt occult and morning’s light;
moon stands, it’s her birthright.
Ghost-nests revealed in abandoned limbs;
wind wails and peals its adieu hymns.
Birds left will feed on frozen meals;
squirrels will plead for fruity fields.
As Earth beds down for an annual sleep;
wear no frown, no crawlies will creep.
Parchment colors paint the ground.
Fires for lovers will abound.
In autumn as the Vandyke leaves fall, lovers truly have a ball.
When winter’s cold assaults the air, hot cocoa we’ll all share.
10-20-2020
Still-Life Autumn Poetry Contest
Eve Roper
From peacock and spruce,
to Vandyke red and orange,
raw and sepia umber's meld
in an autumn palette collage.
Scent of burning fires
rests upon nostrils,
clasped in chill air,
as dew builds to frost
upon the ground.
Sunny hues in autumn
bring puddings pies and
cookies baking in the stove;
their crusty golden tops
give way to the bite
and the gentle soft interiors
melt across the tongue.
I look out on the yellows
reds, greens and oranges
as they jigsaw together
and am unable to stifle
the smile.
10-8-2020
progress COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(23) any theme any form
Brian Strand
Logs stacked by a decaying shed;
scent of burning embers from chimney’s
wafting past my face;
I breathe in the crisp evening chill.
The woodlands, a palette of color
waiting to be laid out on a canvas
by my bristles;
VanDyke orange, red, brown and yellow;
I watch the yellow passing by the sunset
and it blinks to deeper orange hues.
Oils blending, scent of linseed
and turpentine mingle with
the log fires and overhead
flocks darken the skies
winging southwards.
The setting sun lends it’s
hues to the naked trees as
leaves float endlessly downwards
to rest upon an emerald bed.
I glance up from my palette to see
a doe standing there,
right beside a Douglas fir;
her eyes trust mine
and in that simple moment I know,
there is a God.
10-6-19
Enter the 'Best free verse July-December 2019' Poetry Contest
John Hamilton
In autumn, leaves show their true colors; personalities from God’s palette.
Yellow, gold, red, browns and Vandyke orange; pigments bold.
I press them in a book for deco-paging; natures art!
The naked night, the wailing wind;
leaves in their flight are summers end.
Betwixt occult and morning’s light
moon stands, it’s her birthright.
Ghost-nests revealed in abandoned limbs;
wind wails and peals its adieu hymns.
Birds left will feed on frozen meals;
squirrels will plead for fruity fields.
As Earth beds down for an annual sleep;
wear no frown no crawlies will creep.
Parchment colors paint the ground,
Fires for lovers will abound.
In autumn as the Vandyke leaves fall, lovers truly have a ball.
When winter’s cold molests the air, spiced rum and cocoa we’ll all share.
Vandyke oak tree, burgundy’s of Vandyke reds,
browns and gold’s; painted canvas in the sky;
a tower of crispy colors.
When you shed for winter, your secrets are revealed.
Each curve of limb reveals a story;
each knothole, an injury from your past.
Squirrel home sits on branch-roadways;
he’ll never get his mail, with no house number;
if he had one, he could order delivery
instead of hoarding so much food.
Old oak bending to the winds whims,
rocks squirrel to sleep at night.
I spy an occasional winged traveler
among the secrets; a robin left behind by the flock.
It watches through my window;
I know he wants to come in, but robins
are not house broken and
they do not use a cat box or toilet.
I send him a mental message to build in
the Holly or Spruce tree; I hope he is listening.
Oak had lost its Vandyke warmth.
In Spring, a new start will hide all birds;
for now, robin must seek other real estate.
After years of thorough research
Total secret from Christian Church
Friends and family have no idea
I invented a perfect panacea
Crafted malleable Time Machine
No one on Earth could have foreseen
Anneal and temper machine was built
To facilitate life -- lived to the hilt
You want to go back in time with me ?
Heed the rules and then we'll see
Can’t change the past, nor save Lincoln
Not the purpose if that’s your thinking
The warp of time starts from the heart
You'll feel the change when we depart
Enclosure fits two, no more can go
Both make amends no quid pro quo
Now press the button, pull on my Vandyke
On that brave moment super nova shall strike
Abscond, attempt to destroy temporal might
Your angst will build walls no more, in flight
_____________________________________
Author's Note
This is Part I of an ongoing series that also,
and eventually, ties into the Templar Knight
series involving the protagonist Sir Thomas
de Charney.
______________________________________
Can you remember Lost in Space, Bonanza and Gunsmoke?
How about Leave it to Beaver—all the fun they`d poke?
The Dick VanDyke Show made us laugh, and so did Mr Ed.
And all the married couples had to stay in their own bed.
Jeannie couldn`t show her navel. Father did know best.
Tom and Dickie Smothers really failed the censors test.
Red Skelton was a classy clown who always made you smile.
Ed Sullivan ruled who was hot, and who would wait awhile.
Barney lived in Mayberry with Opie and Aunt Bea.
Mockingbird Lane was the home of Grandpa and Eddie.
Flipper ruled the ocean blue, and Gentle Ben the land.
Lassie barked until he knew he made you understand.
Bewitched showed us a mortal married to a cute, blonde witch—
Defied the laws of gravity with just a little twitch.
Petticoats were at the junction; the nun was flying high.
My Favorite Martian stole our hearts. And Laugh-In said good-bye.
Gilligan and Skipper tried to keep the rest from harm.
And Eddie Albert took his wife—from New York to the farm.
These shows were entertainment, without blood, and guns, and gore.
And maybe someday, Hollywood will see this, and make more.