TO MY WILLED EBONY WORD FLOWERS
Tolling bells are ringing,
And mission purpose
Grows to its physical end:
Spiritual nourishment willed:-
Those who sow
Wisdom’s navigation
Will pass on and die,
But their Epistles
Will remain sermonic lessons
To be learned and actualized:-
While their white,
Lettered paper, may yellow,
The inking will remain black;
Teaching those holy lessons:
Washing needed feet, surpasses
Bloody hand washings:-
Though death is inevitable,
Likewise, is the suppressed word
And the revelation of its enlightenment:
And though it may flow slowly,
It flows to the mind's deepest depth,
And its ascension of mind is limitless:-
May the coming tears for me,
Forever hydrate the word flowers
Who seeds I’ve sown and left behind:
That they and my spirit may bear fruits
With energizing juices, nourishing liberation.
Does it come or is it just here
It’s weight unknown
No colour no form
A gratitude of love
Enormous as it’s space
Never grasped in mortal finger
Gods first apartment
The end some might reach
The no thing
Unpeople
Does time effect the nothing
No ting of the smaller wave
Is the hole of black
a stars final moment
What are you doing
a child caught in lie
crumbs of chocolate crumble
as nothing leaves his lip
that I wouldn’t do
that bring some dark thoughts
Sandpaper and your ex
Nothing to be done
the phrase that unalived hopes trace
Puck Colitically Forrect
Ashamed of broken
A knot with freshed washings does hang
The unsaid it’s royal speech
This poems only claws
This morning I got visitor...
The cutest ever little guest.
A sparrow, walking as a twister
on my rope with washings space.
It looked at me with browny eyes
and bravely stayed in front...
A piece of bread I found at once
and my guest got his breakfast pot...
I hope that little sparrow friend
will start to come each day.
My crumbs will wait for him no end
and he will bring me joy.
Who was it who said
Housework prolongs your life?
Surely they jest!
They can go take a hike
I've collapsed on the couch
From just the mere thought
After leaving it it far longer
Than I reasonably ought
Where on earth do I start?
I just can't decide where
Each job worse than the last
I feel down in despair
If only.. if only.. if only
I'd done a bit every day
I'd be feeling self righteous
Instead of filled with dismay
I've practiced avoidance
Become expert at ignoring
Now I'm full of regrets
At the state of the flooring
The windows are grimy
The bathroom needs scrubbing
The washings piled up
Somethings blocking the plumbing
Who on earth has the time
To do extras like dusting?
When the fridge in the kitchen
Is looking disgusting?
I'm sure I'd be keener
And find motivation
If housework attracted
CEO compensation
Instead I lie here inert
Filled up with dread
Paralysed with reluctance
I'll eat biscuits instead
Newfoundlanders, please be ready
For Covid-19’s second wave
After you joined the new bubble
Allowing travel in and out.
You’ve had a great string of free days
Now you’re opening up again
To the world and all it will bring
In your oncoming days ahead.
Beware the backlash Covid brings
To all who let defences down
For we’ve no vaccine yet to use
Only face masks and hand washings
Along with limiting large crowds
And keeping all our bubbles small.
So, don’t drop down defences you’ve
Used against that Covid-19.
Keep a very keen eye or two
At the ready to do again
W.C.Hull © 2020-29-6-WCH-2-5
W.C.Hull © 2020-29-6-H1462-2572-I52-K52-40-L59-12
The oven timer’s going off. Oh crap!
Before that, I was lying in the drawer
enjoying a peaceful little nap.
“She” grabs me and goes to the oven door.
I’m held by her left hand, while in her right,
my brother Terry – poor guy – she has got!
Beneath our padding, we’re both filled with fright.
She has not got a clue how that dang pot
feels torturous against our faded skin.
Our flesh, once bright red cloth, has grown so worn.
Abusing us for all these years – a sin
it ought to be! My brother’s getting torn
from all our washings. God, I feel so lost.
What happens once into the trash we’re tossed?
Writtenh May 12, 2020
N/A in Potholder Contest judged 5/18/2020
Now used for John Hamilton's N-A Re-Run 8 Poetry Contest
Forgetful when it comes to my pocket jeans,
especially when its time to get cleaned,
chewing gum and phone,
after the wash I moan,
at times even laundering the green.
12-21-16
The wound saddened her and the scab would not dry.
She is frayed but with dignity sews and patches herself.
Time ticks as she waits patient, alert for the door closing.
And she waits.
Her clothes are torn from too many washings.
Too many stains.They should be thrown away.
But with tenderness she tries to make it work,once more.
And she waits
If you can hear me . Now is the time for help.
Sewing her dreams one by one helps and the waiting.
George O'l boy, what DO you say?
Great day for an old game today?
Washings done and the chores are too,
So shall we have a play, for what's true?
"I like your shiny clean apron..."
"I like your shiny red car..."
"Shall I drive the rug dear, to a star"?
"Take the short road, the Long one's far..."
"It's technically a pigeon not a hen"
"It's technically a now knot then"
"Know, it's technically a girl at bat, with a Pen."
"And that's technically, players, 10."
"Gentlemen."
So let me ask you... how many types of
people ARE there in this world...?
It doesn't matter, we all know binary...
Write?
Know? Well, then in decimal we'll go.
It's all the same on stage and in show,
One actor there in many sets of clothes.
"...and swhich one are two..."
I have a still snivelling mirror
From the silk-cotton tree
But can that take the stabbing cowries
From my heavy,swollen foot?
I am in the dark the naked she-goat
Panting over flying stones.
I must eat washings of my half-thread
Sudden cut by Atropos;
I must return to almost forsaken ploughs
A balding soot by my wake
Amidst flying tongues of dagger and malice;
Poor manacle must watch armour-less
As malignant rats dart in mottled errands,
Breaking the last walls-the fields,and then
I must rove naked in the inky sky
And then sit under the cypress,
Chewing my fingers-ever.
How sudden the icy embrace
O that I had caught with you the ambulance crest.
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