Poetry Here (Mostly)

Posts tagged ‘poetry’

Snake Oil Salesman


Cannot comprehend

why anyone buys

malevolent swill,

or appreciates

a rubbing of it in.

His hawker style

claims terrific results,

fantastic ingredients,

amazing potion,

disgraces other kinds.

He says he has the stuff

to cure what has gone wrong;

so-called master of our fate,

promised to make us feel great,

but nothing’s great so far.

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Patience and Fortitude


When Fahrenheit rose uncomfortably

up several degrees internally,

thermometer neared one hundred and two,

the abnormal heat caused my shivers too.

Decided to follow voices I’d read,

fever burns virus until it is dead,

without those pharmaceutical effects

that can cause kidney or liver defects.

“Won’t take medicine, are you serious?

Perhaps, illness has made you delirious.”

“Look, I’m still taking my blood pressure pill,

and adhere to multi-vitamin drill.”

I moaned at well-intentioned suggestions,

and groaned rather than answer his questions.

I allowed sickness to follow its course,

slowly got better, and am not divorced.

Not A Pen Pal (Day 9: apostrophe, meaning 2nd person)


My poem got trapped in a Pen.

“Please, Pen, begin to write again.”

 

Snobby as a Fountain, Pen clicked,

“Your rhyme’s not worthy of my ink.”

 

“Release my words on paper here,

it’s not your job to  judge or  jeer.”

 

“Stanzas neither worthy nor sage,

I won’t allow upon a page.”

 

“You’re so old fashioned and cruel,

soon, you’ll be a dry fossilized tool.”

 

With that, I snapped on Pen’s cap,

and moved blank notebook from my lap.

 

Pen’s critique sounded much muter,

when I turned on my computer.

 

But, I feel somewhat frustrated,

poem’s still hidden and hated.

Repetitive Pleasures (Day Eight, Epistrophe)


Night crept out

window’s mouth,

scented breeze

singing trees,

early morn

coffee warm,

again.

Grabbed a cup,

toast popped up.

paper news,

ink-black views,

daily chores,

then outdoors,

again,

again.

Walked with dog,

ravens called,

flowery scene,

southwest green,

season brings

near same thing,

again,

again,

again.

Evening mixed

dinner fix,

greet, speak, eat,

watched TV,

minutes gone,

day moved on,

again,

again,

again,

again.

 

 

Day 7: Found Poetry from “The Daffodils”


Stretched lake breeze,

ten thousand trees,

continuous bay,

milky waves,

lonely twinkle,

solitude hills,

daffodils pensive,

golden thoughts.

 

——

The Daffodils

William Wordsworth, 1770 – 1850

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A Poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Old Movies (Day 6: Screen/Enjambment)


Sometimes before falling asleep in bed

I tune in people who now are long dead.

Glamorous actors from last century

look stylish in dramas or comedy,

film noir, or high jinks of action frolic

city bustle or somewhere bucolic.
Cinema loved a storybook romance

feelings expressed in a well-rehearsed dance.

Entertainment sang on Hollywood lots

before stars got cast into dark, final plots.

On my screen they shine without special effects,

computer zombies, or uncomfortable sex.

Limericks (Day 5)


Found random words to rhyme about:

lazy, lout, pig, snout, sauerkraut.

I’ll doggerel combine,

in limerick time,

to put off scrubbing my bathroom’s tile grout.

 

That lazy Lout guzzled vermouth,

showed potbelly and looked uncouth.

A picture of sin,

with bottle of gin,

and when not drinking, he fed his sweet tooth.

 

As to a snout, little I know,

it’s needed for truffles to go.

You might ask French hog

or look at his blog,

Couch Lout’s likely viewed an animal show.

 

It might taste good but sauerkraut stinks,

spread on hot dog or sausage link.

Meat made from pig snout,

“Goes with beer,” burped Lout,

then, grease on his shirt, he died in a blink.

 

Limericks are completely done,

such silly lines but I had fun.

Now, I am sincere,

I had no Lout here,

and thanks, but no thanks, please don’t bring me one.

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