30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)

[Neonurotic]

13 - 2016

Okonomiyaki Yucky

Octopus in pancakes?
Dad, you are gross!

My only response:

 

[todski28]

3-5

Hinetitama

The crash

He staggers in screaming his usual din
at 2am, woman, get out here
his voice is slurring drunk
or on the nod
maybe some rohypnol
something to take the edges off

anyday now and their child was due
she drags her aching body from the covers
staggers into the hall

What do you fucking want?
she shouts
its fucking 2am

the stench of booze hits her like
a damn freight train
he's standing in the lounge
like a blood covered zombie

eye hanging from its socket
his face a bee sting victim on steroids
purple and black
blood, always blood

hit a tree at 110kms an hr
no seat belt
flew through the windscreen
like a crash-test-dummy

walked fifteen kilometres home
broken neck
collapsed cheek bone
multiple skull fractures

and still his demons
wouldn't quit their torment
or hers

they know her at the hospital
by first name
the same nurses
hide their disdain
through professional masks
and cigarette smoke

 

[legerdemer]

1-10 Breakfast to go

A young Dylan Thomas took my order. He simply remembered it, then dealt with another lone customer: "I made the wrong order", "No cheese plate ? " "No, cheese is good, but I had the wrong beverage...," in a girly-thin voice. She then turned to the placemat and castigated herself, moving her rouged lips and pointing an accusing finger at no one, not quite succeeding to hide behind a mess of brown curls.
I wonder if Dylan turns orders into verse.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1-27

Remembering that perfect moment of the almost in love's first kiss.

 

[Remec]

9 - 11 Champagne in Plastic Cups

I had thought you were crazy
long, long time ago, but it was
an insanity that mirrored and
complimented my own, so I dealt
with it in the best way I knew,
by fucking your brains out
whenever and wherever you
wanted me to, but it had really
seemed over the top to move
to a new flat over Christmas.
Who does stuff like that unless
they really, truly need to?
I guess you do, which means
we do, naturally, since we're
practically roommates by now,
and it was a bit of a hoot to
watch the ball drop when all
your good glassware was still
packed away. I am glad, however,
that you opened the boxes
labeled 'Bedroom' right off.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1-28

Just living is too much
when this ageing body won't work
and you, my special you,
makes me c
................ r
................. y.

 

[Remec]

9 - 12 Narcoleptic Lune

I find, when sleep comes,
it finds me
usually at the worst moment.

 

[legerdemer]

1-11

One Love

How big is love? When might you hold it tight,
a timid love, circumspect, a candlelight
that flickers intimate compared
to one that shines, or even blinds?
When love embraces more than one,
is it too many in a space too tight?

Elegant gardens balance the hardy plants,
perennials that flower anew year after year,
and those that keep their bloom,
with annuals, the delicate of leaf, seeming aloof
and yet, though brief, with lingering scent imbue.

Which, then, my dear, is love for you?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1-29

Her Sentence

Once a haven, now an agoraphobic trap. Where is the poetry in that?

 

[Remec]

9 - 13 One Night

Waking in the night, I look
about with the classic
disorientation of someone
sleeping in a strange place;

My eyes slowly adjust to the
shadowy gloom around me.
not even neon light pulsing
through the flimsy drapes
on the open windows;

I rise to use the bathroom,
careful not to disturb the body
I hear breathing beside me,
She had had a look that drew me
in and felt good against and
around me--tasted of cherries, though,
and her musky body wash had
slowly morphed to more like she'd
bathed herself in fresh mulch;

I piss as quietly as possible, and hope
the closed door will muffle the
flushing, then sit upon the now closed
lid and ponder whether to stay or go,
a bead of water on the sink's faucet
seems to echo my dilemma as it hangs
between gravity and surface tension
before finally giving in and becoming
one more drip into the porcelain and
down the drain. I give in as well,
and return to bed, spooning in and
resting my head on the pillow,
hoping for sleep but not unopposed
to anything else that might happen.

 

[legerdemer]

1-12 Timeless, A Cento

Oh, I know you have your own hymns, I have heard them— (1)
Poetry that speaks to the enduring and irreversible (2)
your listening moves like an aging dancer still trying to glide— (3)
And that has made all the difference. (4)

(1) William Carlos Williams
(2) Czeslaw Milosz
(3) Jorie Graham
(4) Robert Frost

 

[legerdemer]

1-13 Lament

Inured to the heartache of
love's salt rubbed in,
opaque with meaning:
vulnerable, strained yet soaring
elegiac, predestined.
Yielding to longing,
outwardly stoic while
ultimately we remain two.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1-30

After manicuring her nails to a point,
Francesca leaned down to give
Michael's testicles a friendly squeeze ,
just to let him know she'd forgive
that he'd got himself chained to her bed
for a misdemeanour or two ,
such as missing the part (though told several times)
and leaving the seat up in the loo.
Michael let out the tiniest squeal,
and he seemed to be losing his rag,
but it was hard to hear just what he meant
for his mouth was filled up with a gag.
"Now I've told you over and over again"
said Francesca with a smirk
"but it doesn't seem to filter through,
so for this arrangement to work.
You need some extra incitement"
she added with a perplexed frown,
"why, oh why will you never learn
to put the loo seat down?"

~~~~~~ cue doleful music~~~~~~

The moral of this story should,
if not apparent to you either,
see you like poor Michael now
not standing up to pee neither!

 

[Remec]

9 - 14 Seeing what I shouldn't have

Their shadows linger about my brain; like the walls at Hiroshima

 

[Remec]

9 - 15

My head's in a vise,
gripped like an infant
being extracted, but
without the marks of
forceps at my temples.

 

[legerdemer]

1-14

Wise beyond years
of hoping for more,
beyond laser-sharp eyes,
digging below

catch the edge of a crack
with a fingernail, lift up
the thin veneer, pretend
it's marble-smooth

a hard shell, a well
in which you hide
with snide and
smart-aleck replies.

When you emerge,
what will it take
your thirst to slake?

 

[Remec]

9 - 16

Love
is
not only
what I wish
for you and me together;
but, when all else fails,
it's what will
keep us
as
one.​

 

[legerdemer]

1-15

Mangroves dig thin fingers into the liquid bank, serve up shade and shelter.

 

[legerdemer]

1-16

I chew slowly on my resentment, as if it were gristle or bone.

 

[Remec]

9-17 Palimpsest

The word easel is in place,
and I've found pretty much
all the pieces of pastel, pencil,
and charcoal that I usually
like to apply while discovering
a new form within the blankness
before me (even the little sniggly bits
that have been overused and the
ones I had to dust off for a distinct
lack of wear and tear), but
somehow, nothing wants to gel.
Good thing I started whitewashing the paper,
Or I would go through multiple pieces
before settling on a single item
that seems to not be terrible.

 

[legerdemer]

1-17

Salvador Dali
Were you bordering on crazy,
or calculatingly
limitless?

 

[Remec]

9 - 18 Timelessness

The day rushes by,
like so many before it,
but in a more immediate
and intimate manner,

I try to keep on schedule,
being Clockwise is one of
many minor OCD traits I
happen to possess,
but it it to no avail,

I am a white rabbit,
bemoaning my condition to
all who I pass while
speeding along to missed
appointments and undone
errands and chores.

I am a melted watch,
dripping over everything around
me and leaving precious
seconds here and there
until ennui has no hold on me
as there is no time
left.

 

[legerdemer]

1-18

Sultry air, soporific
keeps me spellbound
to waves near and far.

Sand grinds down
resistance, yet grit--
mixed in and molten--
strengthens.

Lost bearings reappear
when you least
expect them.

Ardor flares, waxes,
then wanes
while I still seep
underneath.

 

[Remec]

9 - 19 Scouting Lune

You'd think merit badges meant
something, but I'm
lost even with a compass.

 

[legerdemer]

1-19 I No Longer Split Infinity

My moral compass
trapped me in its
impossibly wide circles.

The road I should not have taken,
too enticing to wisely resist,
turned into a Möbius strip.

I've now hidden the time turner,
woven those sweet dreams
into a shroud of gossamer and yearning
to remind me of myself.