30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)

11 - 17 Sitting on the Porch

Wind caresses flesh,
not harshly,
like the seasonal air flow
that raises goosebumps before
freezing the surface skin
and burning it with cold;
but gently,
a warm breeze that seems
almost an airy reflection
of the orange glow
witnessed in the setting
sunlight at the
end of
day.



:cool:
 
x-8

The African Queen set sail today,
go down the river Charlie,
away from a burned mission,
a brothers grave,
rusty tea brewed of a boilers stove,
go down the river Rose
 
14 - 1

so
i didn't go to the cinema tonight
and i didn't write so well
and i didn't see Taboo but fell
into that vat of thick cream porridge
some call sleep
bemused by tepid dreamings -
half-baked thoughts not enough to keep these
heavy-lidded eyes from sealing shut -
but damn i missed Taboo!
and have been waiting out the week want-
ing to know the outcome of that twist
and become entangled in the next... silly me, i'm vexed!

but
more importantly
i've dozed for half the eve
when i should have been with you
and cheesecake - berried blue :(
 
11 - 18 Deadly Dessert

An overdose of
cheesecake could be
deadly for someone with
my condition;
all the sugar inherent in
blending the cheese
and cream,
not to mention the
assorted fruits and/or
chocolate;
it could be a real mess,

And over doing the other sort
of cheesecake isn't
much better.
 
x-9

Pine needles and Maple fairies,
kine far across the fence line,
south wind full in my face,
last of the wood in the house,
save odd chunks tossed a'place

And in that pause as chores are done,
overcast sky backlit by sun,
still the mind, breathe in the scene,
feel her there, enclosed 'tween arms,
made for that reason
 
11 - 19 Don't Make Me Spank You

It was just a silly threat,
only half-serious and the sort of online joke
made between colleagues;
well, would be acquaintances and friends,
but she welcomed it all the more because of that.


:cool:
 
15 - 1 ... halfway!

the hat


this hat has been places
places we'll never know
seen things we'll never get to see
or, if we did, would never know
it'll never tell

this hat
has known the rain and the sunlight
felt the tug of an easterly wind
has heard snippets of conversation in passing
and more lengthy discourses in more intimate frames
all secrets are safe - it'll never tell

this hat has
known shifts in perspective
from the top of a head to the back of a chair
hat rack to flat on a bed
even from the seat of a bus before being stored
temporarily
in a cardboard box in a depot...
allows it to see the way of the world
at new angles
whatever its conclusions, though,
it'll never tell












ok, this is half-baked at best, the idea, not the done deal. 'pologies. :rose:
 
11 - 20 Following a Recipe

Half-baked is done enough when it comes to some things. Overcooking's bad.



:cool:
 
x-10

Buckets of sun fall from the sky,
the lands awash, I love it,
reefs of golden buttercups,
trees swaying in the currents,
dancing in the breeze,
green leached from weary brown
 
16 - 1

Time
curls like a cat
smiles patiently
no fuss, no rush
and dust motes hang
enchanted by dreams
suspended in their dance
when the breeze disappears
and the sun
that busy fellow
takes a nap beneath a grey duvet


Time
laughs at those who try
to push against the traces
mind's frantic pace through halls of
all-to-do
bracing for that final leap
the strain to keep tail feathers dry
and then
and then

Time
becomes an eel, a fleeting gasp
caught up upon itself it will surpass
itself and greet its grinning twin
folded in and up upon itself, some twisting
looping thing
and we can't run near fast enough
we do our best to last enough
to finish what we'd start enough
and finally break clear

:rose:
 
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x-11 Echo

There's an alley leads to a cinema,
walked once some time ago,
hand in little hand and back,
to home, to home, to home,
where you put me in a footed tub,
washed my weary bones,
dried the hair falls my head,
led me 'cross the hall,
to bed, to bed, to bed,

It was Taboo Tuesday;
the cheesecake was waiting,
so was the missus, vexed,
having missed the last episode,
oh heck, oh heck, oh heck
 
11 - 21 The Speech (Orator, Attendee, Microphone)

Perfect thought the speaker
as he emphasized his
train of thought by
echoing every part of
his final sentence
with a
slap to the
podium;

What a friggin' blowhard.
the hipster standing ten feet back
from front and center
thought as he mentally
sighed and shook his head
wondering why he
let himself be
talked into
coming;

Hey! What the...! thought
the microphone as it tried,
in vain, of course,
to avoid the deluge of
spattering spit that
came over it,
wave after wave,


:cool:
 
17 - 1

lost count of how many
people have cooed ''you're so brave!
at least half of them saying
by implication
you sure loco!

they don't understand
there's no need to fear drowning
when you're a great fish
or concern yourself over drought
when you're desert stock

the brave face their fears
battle on despite them
it's hardly an act of valour
coming home
when home is really where my heart is

:heart:
 
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x-12 Lost Day

Don't know how I misplaced it,
everything was going fine,
breakfast pie and coffee,
to do list made sequentially
succinct in every line,
then an errant eye was cast,
beyond the windows pane,
and every careful plan took flight
as it began to rain
 
11 - 22 Why?/Why Not?

Was just another day,
wake up,
wash face and take
a leak...run a comb
through the slowly
evaporating bird's nest,
stretch and moan while
changing clothes,
take morning pills,
wonder once more why
there are so many,
grab some food for the road
and pop a Monster,
then show up-in body at any rate-
for one more 8-hour shift
of standing, pacing, squatting,
checking in,
checking out,
counting and recounting,
cleaning and pretending to clean,
and thinking that
there has to be more,
right?
But on that day,
just another day,
the emptiness in that answer
echoed in a way
that broke him
once and ever
after.


:cool:
 
18 - 1

tree lifts its roots from soil once rich
grown thin, stony over time
too much water passed under and over
not enough years nor leaf to make it rich again

no regrets
no waiting for some storm to pluck it
rip it from its shallow bed
chooses, instead, to act as proof
darwinian to the core
evolve or die

the morethantree observes
grit and loam still clings to its pale limbs
atrophied now to two thin stems
and
as it takes its first steps into a future
the birds within its crown all sing and
flap their wings
helping it forward
 
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x-13 Burnt

The chefs a fuckin lunatic,
a demon sent from hell,
flames rise from oven tops,
smoke drifts up to the vents,
why's he wearing holy white,
when red be more his style

True, the scents' heavenly,
plated dishes a' la Picasso,
but I really want to know,
'what is this anger I see,
the agony that drives him,
and why my compulsion to watch'
 
11 - 23 Caretaking

Cooking a dinner that is not even remotely on your diet.


:cool:
 
x-14

Late night speeds t'ward dawn,
still awake but not for long,
soon between the sheets,
safe, warm, sleep until the morrow

In the cold light of day,
slow to break, slow to rise,
egress from that comfort prized,
my
Ku time 'neath the duvet,
in that small space 'twix cover and pillow,
the day creaps in, shows eyes,
searching 'cross the breath between,
looking for I see you
 
1 - 2

the sun is bright but fickle though,
for now, it tickles glossy leaves
encourages violet dogs to peep
amidst their sheaves of green
and darts its shards into my eyes
reflecting from the glass across
the tarmacadamed way
and makes me screw them up to sneeze
and bite my tongue, protest aloud
of how it plays go hide-and-seek
behind the breeze blown greys

*takes a moment to reflect*

i meant to write about the charm
no - charm's not right
more zen than that -
calm perhaps the better word
that's felt dismantling one world
in order to step forward into the next...
text doesn't quite convey its sense
(more down to me, a lack of skills)
or dust that clings to hair and clothes
but rinses down the busy drain
washing years and years away
and welcomes in an ease

the sun has hidden once again
and though gray-grey it sheds no rain
and leaves are left once more quite dark
the waiting game for skies to part
 
11 - 24 Confusion

Like White Rabbits, we seem to be chasing after time
to spend with each other. I can certainly understand
why we would do that, they call it love

when you do things that others call crazy. Love
just makes you to things like that; time
after time, and just when you think you understand

what prompts such craziness you find you understand
nothing about anything. Not yourself, or Life, or Love
and definitely not how you managed to pass so much time.

Just so, so much time and I still don't understand why you love me.
 
x-15 Poo

This is some never ending shit,
feed the soil with excrement,
call the fucking nematodes,
hi-ho, hi-ho, hi-ho,
here you go; its all horseshit,
eat up boys, a long season ahead,
don't make me go chickenshit on you,
before I put y'all back to bed,
all forked and manicured,
dressed in black crap,
ready for the dance to begin,
do-se-do on down the row,
break out the big fork,
stab, grind, heave ho,
one down a hundred to go,
on this row,
and then, and then, and then,
break it up fine,
tease out the bits of green,
ready to plant
 
2 - 2

each day becomes
cleaner
less
cluttered
undo the screws
stack the pieces
watch the spaces appear
the indentations
that slowly start to rise
the years of dust
brushed
away
the unplugging
the giving away and giving up of things
the knocking out of bricks
the removal of collected
accumulated
debris
allows me to tread lighter
allows the smile to float
i follow...
 
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11 - 25 Looks like Rain

Dirty words
Dirty looks
Looks bad
Looks can kill
Kill Bill
Kill time
Time out
Time off
Off sides
Off the wagon
Wagon train
Waggin' the dog
Dog gone
Dog tails
Tails for days
Tales of yore
You're mine
You're welcome
Welcome to it
Well-come and well-met
Met your match
Met-Life
Life and Death
Life everlasting
Everlasting gobstopper
Ever after
After hours
After all
All's well
All's fair
Fair play
Fair enough
Enough is enough
Enough is too much
Much ado
Muchas gracias
Gracias mi amigo
Gracias muchacha
Cha-cha-chia
Cha-ching
Ching-a-ling
Ching-a-ring
Ring on
Ring of Power
Power company
Power rain
Rain of terror
Reign of night
Night
terror




:cool:
 
3 - 2

''Here I can be just be me.
no need to entertain, perform'',
said the black 21st Century comedian
stood on a Devon hillside
breathing in late summer
along with a lifetime's freedom.

''Aha!'' said the wasp
honing in on its first victim of the day.
''First fermented plums, now this?
Wonder if he sings as well as dances....''

''Now that's a funny guy'', said the hill,
as it sat content in nature's ampitheatre,
rubble scattered like popcorn
warmed by the sun.
''Parody acts rock!''
 
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