Crocuses pop up,
visibly loudly,
like alien popsicles
too plastic too bright.
Or do they just not
give a fu ck?
Unabashedly glarily happy?
Ignoring their beds
of camouflage leaves.
The funfair comes to town
the greasy dons pitching
pegs into old-lady
grey paving stones
Come and see! Come
and experience
Brand new! Exciting and
pretty, dresses of
glitter in a
cheap pub.
The regulars, shrug
or grin,
or stare and wait.
It's summer's gentler
glow of colour, that
they'll gladly shuffle
their way down for,
into the soil below.
a haiku for spring:
the wicked winter leaves
and all nature is reborn
in the soft spring
nimh
You're pretty talented.
Hi, wandeljw. Welcome and good poem.
Yes nimh...you've definitely got a flair for creative writing. Your particular style on this one reminded me of Cav
Welcome wandeljw, I'm glad that you and nimh have decided to join us
I walked down the path by the canal from my therapist to the cafe, saw those crocuses popped up everywhere, planted in not quite rectangular but still recognizable planting patterns, and that "visibly loudly, too plastic too bright" came up in my head. Then when I got home and typed it I got "alien popsicles" instead. It was supposed to be a haiku, but now the syllables didnt fit anymore and I thought I wanted to add one or two lines anyway - well, and then all of that came out instead <nods>.
Glad you liked it tho <smiles>. Cav ... I would love to write a poem like Hoarfrost some time. I loved that one. But I'm a sissy, so I dont even try, really (to write poems I mean). Thats why this thread is such a find - just pop out whatever you have got, dont need to worry about it not really yet being a poem or anything. Otherwise I wouldnt even write a line.
<smiles back>
silent birds
approach dawn
hungry for the morn
as sunny daylight designs
are placed in motion
creating the passion of a
chirping happy song
sung for a brand new day
springtime in houston
windblown pines
sheets of pollen
yellow on cars
mockingbirds return
rain gusts
sunshine warm and kind
azalias wisteria dogwood
running
children and dogs
ropes of cars on freeways
downtown bold and tall
spend cool nights
out on the lawn
as the pollen breeze is squeezing
in the spring when flowers dance
we will present too many sneezes
and ignore them all by chance
When I sneeze
I create a breeze
That shivers the trees
Open up and WAHOO!!
I bet I scared you
Now clean up all the doo
I wrote this recently; I believe man went downhill after farming was invented!
WORK
Amazon tribes have no word for work,
Because they are gatherers and hunters.
Work began when the first man, the jerk, dropped his wild oats,
And returning after a year he found they had sprouted,
Spread out temptingly, ready to be reaped,
Which pulled in the punters.
O dark moment! In that discovery, farming was born.
Accordingly came long hours, land owning, labourers.
Our natural nomadic selves disappeared;
Unsettled people in the settlement are to be feared.
Work became normal, and approved by all
Particularly St Paul. He addressed the people of Thessaly
On the subject, rather testily.
He spoke to the average burghers in the street,
Their slaves and their bondspeople. He said:
If any would not work, neither should he eat.
Work became godly, ennobled with a capital letter;
Freedom was good but Industry was better.
There is a large and salient picture called Work:
The glory of labour
Romanticized against a ruddy sky.
It is a bloody lie.
Making the picturesque out of drudgery
Is to admire the pretty drip of blood.
St Matthew was the opposite of Paul, a hippy.
Become as little flower children
And Heaven is yours.
Fowls of the air,
Lilies of the field
Do not sow and toil, reap and spin.
Not for them the seed drill and the cotton gin.
They do not take degrees and become consultants,
Nor do they sit at consoles pressing buttons,
Nor become customer care personnel,
Nor makers of aerosols, of canned custard, hair gel.
They are not hairdressers to the stars
They are not called to the Bar
They just are.
I have worked, which is why, St Paul, I eat.
But note that where I sit is at St Matthew's feet.
Clary
That's one of the more interesting poems I have read, of late. I love it. Know who else would love it? Letty on her Wa2k radio is now on the air thread. I urge you to post it there.
no time now!! going out to dinner... she may see this, who knows! Thanks for praise
manunkind
manunwise
manwhofind
akillersprize
helpmefind
itotherwise
Midnight prayer
Outside the crystal you abide
Mercurial like a shooting star
With a glowing glance
The sweaty foreground smiles
Teeth glimmer under moonlight
I ask you find the vanished soul
If in flesh you'd live my present
If I could pretend being fearless
A bitemark on your neck
And two on yours
My love is stronger
I desire your warmth, my dear
Well written Clary, I enjoyed it
Loved yours too, JoeFX
it reminded me of an Anne Rice novel
shattered glass
a million pieces on the ground
bare feet beware
step away and go around
I like Joe's poem, too.
I'm sorry I don't write as well now as I was doing in the past; perhaps I will snap out of it soon and come up with a few good lines.
I haven't felt very spontaneous in my writings either
colorbook wrote:
Loved yours too, JoeFX
it reminded me of an Anne Rice novel
It's funny you should mention it as it wasn't my intention at all, but when I read it in my literature class three people told me they thought about vampires.
It's originally in spanish, it feels more vampirical in English now that I compare both versions.
Thanks for the comments.
