Mellow mantras,
daub my ear,
with rapt sultry
opal peals,
whilst entwining,
seamless sheath,
of aural vista,
whose magic wand,
sedates yet enthusiast,
of this morning nomad,
whose quixotic quill,
aches for ardent dawn,
to tranquilize meandering,
muse off target,
focus on,
aurora spectrum,
day-peep pageant,
of pristine pink,
demure aligned,
sun horizon hover,
gliding gold wisps,
fleeting blue ray,
chimera or mood swing,
dalliance of dust grain,
as I allude to,
gleaming dewdrops,
In lofty lyric,
prompt from,
green leaf rustle,
or grey twig tweak,
silver stream murmur,
moist babble of,
hushed hints,
rush and ripple,
froth rimmed swirl,
vapour vortices visceral,
whet my creative juice,
from lucent pools,
can I imagine,
wondrous tactile trails
Glory of tandoori story or Brit palette whet reformer korma
Vindaloo or sag aloo woo you or coo crazy about jalfrezi
Gets hazy as things mesh came fresh from Bangladesh
Can’t naysay Indian takeaways most days top performer
Made for Brit eccentric never ever looked a bit authentic
Teach explore each region with its own locavore legion
Preach mountain ranges to cities and fountains changes
Neighbourhoods vocally hooked homegrown locally cooked
See wee chatty seller with natty chapati smothered in gee
Poms popadoms covered with mango glow aplomb or roti
Lentil dahl elemental or experimental flurry of curry in a hurry
Ask a fella stellar biryani actually Indian or factually Pakistani
p.s Oh and no argy bargy about the Raj but do so love a bhaji
Let’s get set for yet another reset
Tiffs with each other riffs of what ifs
Definitely brother not your best bet
Wallow mounting mountain of debt
Follow internet fountain jet of regret
Caught in vaunted haunted silhouette
They tighten the net frighten bloodlet
Swallow your pride or with ease can forget
Beset our society on its knees under threat
But won’t get het up…so please don’t fret
Wild child.. don't the proverbial bed wet
Implore ignore being a bore.. the teacher’s pet
Or commuter the computer your tutor & suitor
Just be a looter and a future freebooter cadet
Don’t now vet all the people you’ve met
Vow over the small stuff you won't sweat
Don’t tease somehow have a tete a tete
Pleas to seize every day the appetite whet
Might not be a breeze but helluva wheeze
Cos tomorrow could be your best day yet!
A humbling human crack
in every theological
God v Man
divine spirit v human nature
oppositional relationship
Monotheistic belief
in our sacred past,
religiously fine
but anti-polytheistic hope
desecrating Earth's polyculturally wealthy future,
irreligiously not OK.
Anthropocentric passion
and sacred love pleasure
cognitively and intuitively fine,
but EarthCentric dispassion
and organic life displeasure,
not cognitively or intuitively OK.
WE compassion
good-natured climate conservation
definitely fine,
but THEY dispassion
bad-spirited caste preservation
infinitely not OK
Cracks that whet
shared Light inside.
I like the showers of the sowers' rainfalls—
Not that it shouts, but because it makes plants sprout.
The scenery crawls as field greenery sprawls,
That can extricate droughts from despairing doubt.
Butterflies paint brighter the greens of the fields,
And flowers flaunt beauty as bright, fragrant shields.
In dreams I crave wet seasons to whet my sleep,
Whose supreme comfort sustains my slumber deep.
I hate the stains that dwell in corners and drains—
Filthiness, a taboo my death will detest.
I despise the dirtiness my soul disdains,
A deep aversion heaven and earth can't wrest.
So sew your flowers' seeds and weed my garden—
No matter your mistake, my mind will pardon.
Love will invent the wheel of our good rapport;
Just don't adore foulness I so much abhor.
ready for black belt test
green is the arena
protected by aura
fairy umbrella dewed
like teddy
eddy whorls
but steady
spready tail
winning wed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son.
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by experience
claps and traps one in victory dance
Copyright © Cornelius Brantley | Year Posted 2024
GEOFF: A Whet Pirouette Poem
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
furry, spry squirrel, Geoff
Chaucer he doth channel
"Come and 'whet thine whistle'."
"Poof! abracadabra!"
Really?
Now Georgie,
you're silly!
be smiley,
beguilely!
Whet my keen appetite?
Yes, you have - for revenge
against my long standing,
wry, furry nemesis.
He's not wet...
yet. Blast a
water jet!
Get that scamp
to regret.
Such throaty timbres – oboes and bassoons –
such gowns! My Lady, apricot and plum,
her sleeves ablaze with blue October moons –
for one short night, her villa had become
the very essence of elysium!
To “fortify” us, as My Lady said,
against the winter tedium to come,
to banish melancholy, drive out dread,
she threw an Autumn Ball. Delirium!
We met the equinox with pipe and drum.
The quality of Florence all attended,
and never were Their Graces better fed!
The sun was up before our revels ended –
and Isabella? Still no thought of bed!
Three further galliards she’d yet to tread.
It seems I hear those trumpets even yet,
and taste the sweetmeats of that epic spread
(she’d plied us with light moscatel to whet
the palate) – I believe my mortal head
will throb for ever more, autumnal red!
He hones his purpose on a stone whet of spite,
Edge kissed to gleam in the dead of night.
Relentless is the echo tuned to hindsight.
Endless in the knowing his cause is right.
His grip is firm, his whetstone flat.
His purpose honed to revenge in tit-for-tat.
The axe grinder, can't ever get over that.
Old grudges are ground in, with spittle spat.
The sparks fly from grinding wheel.
Spun to remove the scars in steel.
Caught in armor on the leg and heel,
Of the foe that stood up from their kneel.
Sharper minds cut cleaner truer lines,
In wood chips, slivers, shaves and fines,
Cut deeper deeper in, to find the quick that binds,
The grinder to the hurt and pain he mines.
Younger people have no clue
That many things they like to do
Will, one day, prove to be too much,
By slipping from an aging clutch.
The rah-rah-rah and go-go-go
Of constant moving starts to slow.
The parties lasting through the night
No longer whet your appetite.
The dinners that begin at 8,
With drinks you’d once appreciate,
Give way to early-bird-type meals
With much less food, which now appeals.
The traveling to cool locales
To ski or hike with groups of pals
May be the trip you once would choose,
But now, you’d pick a river cruise.
You never think when you are young
That you would ever be among
The people who have reached the age
Where life is at a different stage.
autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son.
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by experience
claps and traps one in victory dance
In the bazaar
Works and willful stacks of gold.
I grant thee one reticent
Knod, just for show.
There is no real fauna
In our new world.order,
We whet our fangs
And fight for the final time.
In glaciers cool but melting,
I greet the gods of Greenland mourning.
In glaciers hot and freezing
We leave the demons plotting.
Through faithful practise I surmise -
Holidays - chaos in disguise!
Diets get out of hand,
Fickle waistlines expand,
And stern resolutions arise!
But until then it’s pure delight,
Family feast by turkey site.
Both get stuffed to the brim
On a prim palate’s whim,
Way to whet a wild appetite!
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