Complacent Push and Pull

The wine bottle is empty again,
Again the brothel full,
But though they smile like happy men
Each sin shall take its toll:
A headache now, a heartache then
A peaceful parting lull—
A hurricane without, within
A weak and wounded soul.

Dinner’s On The Table (A Backrub Poem)

Dinner’s on the table, dinner’s on the table
Hurry grab a seat!
You take a drink of water
But you spill it down your back
Oh you spill it down your back
You might have been embarrassed
But the room is very black
Yes the room is very black
So turn and touch the light switch
And make the lights come on!
Turn on twenty-one!
Dinner’s on the table, dinner’s on the table
Hurry now, let’s eat!

Surprise Shower

People fall into my heart
Like rain from a cloudless sky:
Unexpected, but welcome—
A well where earth was dry.


The crust,
The crust,
The dusty crust,
The mantle flows below,
Above the outer, inner cores so deep
Beneath the breath of fire the mountains sneeze unless they are asleep;
So rouse the snoring hounds but let peaked dragons lie alone asleep
Don’t wake them from their rumbling, grumbling deep,
So keep your voices low
On fragile crust,
The crust,
The crust.

I chose to do an ascending and descending Fibonacci sequenced poem–it is somewhat similar to the Diatelle form, except I was counting feet rather than individual syllables.


Unlike The Beatles I sing a new refrain:
Here comes the soothing sound of showers,
The simple scent of petrichor;
Here comes the rain.


She: “Guy who got mad in the mall
Wouldn’t listen to reason at all;
He threw all our stuff
And acted quite tough
Until the cops took him.”  Me: “LOL!”

Any day is likely to be lovely

Butterflies all flit from flower to flower,
Watermelon juice is on my chin,
The light drips from the leaves in golden shower
And splashes off the rooftop made of tin.

Seven Color Crystal Boll

Rip the pack and pour the rubble,
Baby beads make double trouble:
Water wobble bauble bubbles!


This is a form that I can only call a Chagall, as the only person I know who’s done it is Carlos Chagall at Alphabet City.  I stumbled across it with his poem Lithographs.  It involves stanzas made up of two haiku, but instead of 5-7-5//5-7-5 it follows a 5//7-5//5-7//5 pattern.  But there’s one stanza with an errant syllable that signifies the turning point in the poem:

A puff in the air?
A breath exhaled and then smoke writing in cursive
A Happy Birthday wish without a second thought;
Eyes wide, cut the cake.

Solaris Nox

The sun creeps into my room at night
And sheds a bit of bright white light;
He sloughs his skin and then moves on
But my room glitters with the dawn.

I love the glow of each solar shard,
But it sure does make going to sleep quite hard.

Previous Older Entries

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 489 other followers

Because Russ L asked

  • 35,942 hits
%d bloggers like this: