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I once had a wireless mouse,
that could never afford a spouse,
for it was tailless and it was armless,
and seldom would walk out of the house.
You are the prisoner of your own tongue,
diminished to a minnow, spat into a puddle;
by one wrong word, you came undone
and now you're in a man-made muddle
She wears her scorn now, on shoulders,
shuddering under a brow black shawl;
you thought it would make you bolder
and that thought traversed the wall
And made it past your guarded lips,
and wouldn't mean anything at all.
You've made a widow of those hallowed hips,
and a widower of passion who falls
1) Late
I’m four days late, the contest has begun,
but not too late, I hope to have some fun.
Now crash the keys and see what might appear,
some sage advice that others might revere?
Oh woe is me, my song is all aglee.
Could I expect one person to agree
that what is writ is worthy to be read?
Should I admit these are the words I said?
There was a girl eating stew,
she had nothing else to do
standing outside in the cold
all the malls had closed,
so she went instead to the zoo
Behind Veiled Curtains
A very simple thought
travelled at lightning speed
what will happen if I meet you
face to face
behind automated veiled curtains
you do me trace
yes!
you stand owing to limitations....
But
what would happen if on a stage
I smiled at you
as your consort eyed your gaze
I know my heart would seize
if I were you
So take no chance
life is one,
enjoy the present romance
“Hurry, hurry, get up it's late!”
How come it's so dark?
“We changed the clocks, remember?”
Get dressed, don't dawdle
Wash your face
Comb your hair
Pancakes and peanut butter
Tea, sweet and strong
Milk makes it smooth
The wind blows hard
It looks like rain
Put your collars up
Bye Mom, see you later at lunch
The school four blocks
Looking at later already
Hey! Wait!
What is it Mom?
“I forgot; It's Saturday!”
SPECULATION
I never felt so sad
and my heart never touched
the essence of my being
from the deep, very deep recesses
of the mind, dark whispers of desolation
and primeval fears surge like demons
shrilling unholy litanies.
the devil is on the move, lurking
in the shadows in hopes that I fall
this God may annihilate me for my
human ways and my redemption
will be in the days of suffering to come.
Some trees grow up tall and straight
untouched by storms and wind.
Others have a different fate
they break or bow or bend.
Then both are cut and hauled away
from their hollow or windy hill
never more to sigh and sway,
they find their fate at the saw mill.
the tall straight trees yield even grain
in the boards that come from them.
They show no swirls when given stain,
no trace of knots from an old limb.
Yesterday I learned a heart was pained
by foolish words, an idle jest gone wrong;
a friend whose loving-kindness never waned
despaired of trust she’d given for so long.
Yesterday I drowned in my own shame,
the cause of such unwarranted distress;
we say, to err is human, there’s no blame,
but friendship must be caring, nonetheless.
Yesterday can’t be reintroduced,
the forlorn hope, engender a fresh start
but when bad fruit is carelessly produced
it rots away, a canker to the heart.
There you are
using your mind
you own it
use it
ere it
rusts
Bulimia
She is hungry of /for admiration
let her be
when she has left nothing to show
no one will her like to mow
reap she will as does she sow
This is what happens
when you listen to others
and let your brain rust
sad but in yourself
you lost your confidence