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30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)

Nov/17 #23

My American Friends

Though sometimes the day seems dark
in mid-November, remember the sun
is where it's always been. We're moving
in an ellipse that takes us this far
from Sol's heat. The light seems
watery and far too brief but yet a star
shines and puts a little warmth
on your neck, if you stand,
back to the south, in front
of your triple glazed-low-E window.

Happy Thanksgiving.
 
Nov/17 #24

Rambles

Generally when words are a daily
obligation, the conversation
you have with poetry gets a little
stilted, forced, congested...
It's a tough thing to sort
through experiences and list
all the details of living
day to day to day. Time
kicks your ass and you know
you just have to write
anything.
 
Nov/17 #25

Christmas Is Coming

Sitting on a stonewall, watching
a creek burble its way over
a granite bed, at the foot
of a stone mountain in Georgia,
is what i distill from memory
and looking at that photo.

Hearing children's play voices
and watching their restless
hop from one foot to the other
condenses into a remembrance
of our first meeting, when I
needed to kiss you and touch
your face as if it would fade.

Restless anticipation is my companion
for the next two weeks, while I can
hardly keep myself from getting
on a plane and coming to you early.
You are my happiness in one serving
of an ideal man to bring me home.
 
I'm lucky to get one a month

MY MEAN CAT

By JC Street © 2018, all rights and lollipops reserved

My cat
destroyed my hat
clawed my jeans
to smithereens

My cat
came to bed
ripped the duvet
all to shreds

My cat
clawed my head
rubbed its fur against my beard, said

we gotta talk

I woke up to
my cat
purring sweet, saying
time to give me food to eat, it was

4 a.m., and
I had a friend, who said
Oh baby, I love cats, and
sat up in bed, and said
Ted (that’s the cat’s name, eh)
you are such a silly moof and
here’s proof and
tickled its tum the way I hoped
she’d do to me so
I moped

My love and I are no more cuz
she took my cat to another shore
it’s not a chore to her to flirt
all night holding
Ted tight

I am bereft
Ted left, after
all the Whiskas I had deftly hidden
went into his furry tum
leaving me glum with the expenditure

of it all I am
appalled . . . this
graceless fickality, this
new catless reality

-30-
 
1 Apr 2019

It's Napowrimo

What better time to start a 30/30 run than now.

Compass of Everywhere
An Ekphrastic of Scarp Gogonot's (sl avatar name) piece "Compass of the Sun"

Sun shadow breaks the scabrous line
of blistered primer base faded
and broken, to only hint at what lay beneath.

A tired old billboard no one buys ad space
on anymore-- or are you merely an artist's
test canvas to challenge technique?

I see how mauve shines through blue
shines through white and then shifts
to a faded memory of red and necklines.

Maybe it's not that, but I see the black scar
dripping down from the spray paint burst
of nozzle cleaning and impatient spatters.

Sometimes great art isn't made because
someone cares. It happens simply since
someone can't invest any more than less.
 
April 1:1

Untitled

hot steamy bath
lavender scented
stripping off the day
half scalding my toes
at first touch
breathing steam
sighing
calves and rump submerge
creamy skin turns pink
blanketed
frothy sweet bubbles
indulge in the heat
close your eyes
sink deep within
the porcelain embrace
until the water cools
 
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April 1:2

Cascadia Night

Raven skies blanket the mountain
Inky water laps the shore
The evening’s fire casts no light
Now curled in shared warmth
Will there be fog in the morn?
Dreamless sleep awaits





based on Angeline's old challenge to write a 6 line poem about Night without using the words: night, dark, black, moon, stars, day
 
April 1:3

Pruning

Stands and considers
The maple tree
Eyes darting
Following each limb
And crossing line

Steps forward
And snips a branch

Considers again
Smiles and nods


In response to the Japanese Gardner Challenge thread.
 
2 & 3 Apr 2019

Fear is Human

Maybe I over-invest, over-thinking
minutia to the point where a step
forward is really moving backward
since the path has more details
than the door behind. Take my hand
and simply pull me forward, I
don't want to be frozen in anxiety.
This isn't doing anyone any good.



Yesterday's Leftovers (an American Sentence)

Better when reheated in the oven rather than the microwave.
 
4 April 2019

An Authentic Tourist

There's that dry mouth and lips
that no licking seems to ease
away from bitten lips
and fingernails and absent
tapping of fingers on table

A definite excitement of times
looked forward to taste, hear
and especially to see new
colours and movements
along a shimmering canal
or tide-washed shoreline

The tulip fields with powerful
geometry of brilliant hued
rectangles paint the country
until your retinas send images
long after the profusion shrinks
into the rear view mirror
and disappears from sight

I want to smell floury confection
and flowery warehouses with bulbs
stored from past harvests and cheese
and chocolate aging in their barrels
and wrappings while the merchants
smile at the Euros brought home
by tourists and their hunger for
"Authentic" and "Historic" experience
 
April 1:4

Magpie's Stash

each bolt well chosen
violet, lime, crimson, parchment
batiks line the front window
in every hue and shade
ready to be plucked
one yard?
fat quarter?
kerchunck kerchunk
as the bolt unwinds
the pattern revealed
ohhhhhh
it's so beautiful
considering...
give me two yards please

every shelf now bare
the stash dispersed
across three counties
my stash augmented
every yard cuts me
the impending loss
a deep ache

my magpie has flown
 
Goodness knows how many - 1

Daddy stripped Annie , laid her down
upon the bed,
head comfortable on pillows.
Carefully but securely fastened
her legs apart, knees bent.
Annie purred with delight,
helpless and exposed to his eyes
already juicing.
Daddy went down on her,
as her pussy was so enticing
he loved to make her cum
knowing he was the only one
who ever made her cum from oral.
She gasped as he opened her lips
with his fingers, he knew
she loved to be spread that way.
Leaning in he flicked her clitty
with his tongue, making it erect
like a tiny penis, sucked it into his mouth
sliding a finger into her sopping pussy.
She squirmed and moaned,
feeling her orgasm begin to rise,
a wave growing in her head.
Daddy withdrew his finger,
put it against her pucker and pushed,
all the while flicking and sucking on her clit.
As his finger pushed deeper,
then in and out, Annie's wave hit,
her body jerked spasmodically,
she screamed and called his name
delighting in the fact
she was now free to call for him.

Lying there in the blissful aftermath
she became aware
he hadn't finished with her yet.
He lifted her chin telling her to pay attention.
"This is important Annie" he said
"You must tell me if there is any pain at all
and I will stop, do you understand,
this is important" he said again
"or I won't do it at all".
Annie nodded and told him she understood
as he gathered the sounds.
 
5 April 2019

edited-image_1.png
Prehistoric Weatherscape

Just to look and see time set
in this masterpiece humbles
the observer, as the path winds,
becomes subdued and pensive
the weight of eons hushing
boistrous exuberance as the hike
pulls him further away to see
what was even though
what is, is all that remains​
 
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April 1:5

Fourth month

april sprinkles
revealing fresh buds
curled fiddleheads
frossy blossoms
pink and white

relationships have
an april time too
fresh and new
as senses are
overwhelmed
 
Gkhm - 2

You have a beautiful cock,
a cock to be proud of,
and that's not just because I'm biased!
It has beautiful proportions
and it's not too huge!
Huge cocks are over rated,
women just don't want something
that hurts or stretches them
to the size of a bucket.
 
6 April 2019

Ugly Spring

There must be places in the world
where spring floats in as gentle
and pristine as a quiet creek
flowing from a busy marsh.

Where the perky heads of crocus
pop up into the sun to celebrate
coming warmth and rain.

Hyacinths and daffodils precursors
to tulips and lilies unfurl into
beautiful shades of sky and sunshine.

Here, though, the winter leaves
reluctantly, the piles of snow
melts and reveals the frozen gravel
mixed in, creating mud and slurry
of ice crystals and road dirt.

Rainfall builds puddles that soon
churn into mud from tires splashing
through and stirring up the gravel
the street sweeper hasn't found yet.

May can't come soon enough.
My garden needs to be drier
so that my footfalls don't crush
fragile bulbs and sprouts
destroying the coming beauty.
 
April 1:6

Old Journals

My father’s journal recounts
A summer vacation
Rental car and hotel details
A single line notes pleasure
Picnic lunch in Santa Fe
Well prepared by mom.

My father's journal
8 years later
A birthday gift
From a woman not his wife
Love declared on every page

Only the afgan she knit remains
For she came and went
And he is gone too.
 
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gkhm - 3

A Lilibonelle

In my mind's eye, you held my hand
throughout my operation.
With gentle words, you calmed my fears.
I clung tightly the whole duration.

Throughout my operation,
Which I hated, made me want to run,
Yours was the love kept me there,
since you made me number one.

With gentle words, you calmed my fears.
your love, support, caress
the things I needed most of all
to comfort my distress.

I clung tightly the whole duration,
though you were only in my head,
soft spoken words of devotion
already planted, filled me instead.
 
April 1:7

stars

A million turquoise stars
Tempts tiny fingers
Reaching grabbing smiling
A milky way of melt in my mouth
Sheets scattered with stars
Pointing the way

Tim cooks to feed
A day of feasting
Each star bright
Gatherimg this constellation
Of a million
Turquoise stars
 
gkhm - 4

Acrostic
.
Will an English rose transplant to a faraway land,
Or would it wilt and die in the oppressive heat?
Nevermore to know the touch of soft Summer rain.
Do her roots fasten her too deeply in this rich loam?
Every living thing deserves the right to learn that
Rooted once again, it will flower and flourish with love.
 
7 & 8 April 2019

I forgot to post #7. I wrote it, I tweeted but I forgot to 30/30 post it! Dang, but I'm posting anyway even though I have long since failed to complete the single 30 in 30 run. Bah! Anarchists don't make the rules! We break the rules! Anarchy NOW!

In response to use 3 of 5 prompt words in a poem idea: Unusual, Truck, Citrus, Evangelist, and Sincere.

An Often Love

I drive an unusual truck
It seats more than four
and sometimes, like a car
full of evangelists
the family rides together

Determined in sincerity,
we wallow in mutual
affection but not until
it's time to part, do we
ever say "I love you"

I think the man in Florida
who lives just west;
and maybe south, of many citrus
groves is luxuriant in his use
of that not heard often enough,

"I love you." And so I need
to make sincere reply,
"I love you, too."

and the poem that's on time - #8

Hasty Day Eight Sonnet

My love you strut your complete attitude
manly male, sexy guy and southern dude
No wonder this, that you stir wanton thoughts
which send auras of lust, my retinas spot.
Spattered with desire and near hurtful need,
words come forth in a blinding rush of speed.
Tripping and stumbling through prosaic sighs
I fall through staging set to please your eyes
and at your feet, clownish limbs a-jumble,
abase this nonsense and beg with humble
demeanour and words, that you forgive me
this love that makes me silly and hasty
for your approval, your touch on my skin
for love beyond reason's, my greatest sin.
 
April 1:9

Un-nesting

Books
Piled high
Rocks and shells
Old magazines
Maps and charts rolled up
Boxes of cassette tapes
Two hand turned wooden bowls
Plans for the kayak we built
Grandma’s antique jade mantle clock
Fiction, non fiction, poetry too
Each book a memory of our marriage
Stories read aloud on long journeys
Museum posters curled in tubes
Treasured fossils, floats and bones
Sentimental birthday cards
Niece and nephew pictures
John Deere toy tractor
MRI films
Recipes too
our book
shelves
​



cb​
 
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