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mario Aug 2018
In shady spots, picking daises
In parking lots, being lazy
In my thoughts, going crazy
In my room, dimly lit
I don't regret a second of it
MicMag Jul 2018
One?
Done
Fun?
None

One


If two?
Pass through
Will do
And you?

That's two


How bout three?
Shall we see?
Bit more free
Works for me

So says three


Can we try four?
It gives us more
Not such a bore
Crack wide that door

Lead us on, four


Would we dare do five?
Tis too high to strive?
I do love this jive
Let's stop while still live

Safe with lines of five


But hear the cry of six
It tempts as time still ticks
It's not just a quick fix
But adds to this great mix

Yes, hear that call of six


Rules change as we reach seven
Words lengthen, stretch to heaven
Lines rise like bread so leavened

The changes wrought by seven


Hard as the end draws near with eight
Liked this before, now's not so great
Long lines I don't appreciate

Thanks for nothing, unruly eight


Entering the danger zone with nine
Meaning gets lost by end of the line
Despite the trouble, guess we'll be fine

Phew, we just made it through there with nine


And finally we arrive here to ten
What an intriguing journey this has been
I'm so relieved now to be at the end

So long, good night, let's sign off now with ten
But who's counting? :)

Some people love playing with words. Others like to play with numbers.
Why not both?!

This was a bit of a whimsical experiment in letting the numbers dictate the form.

The number of syllables per line corresponds to the number in the stanza's first line.
I went with one syllable words until seven forced one style change with its two syllables and another change with its lack of good rhymes.
Numbers are beautiful, aren't they?

I was tempted to continue beyond ten, but... Can I count on you to keep it going?! ;)
The violent violets of her eyes
The latitude of her mattress of green,
the greenest grass by the lily pond
where she dreams to say, "Share my ship of
the fallen leaves and algae, green, the greenest."
Natures plays her tricks again
clad in clothes which are
a gauzy garden of renewal.
Charming Blather Mar 2018
I like the way I hate the Boston metro subway train.
It's actually called The T, I think short for train, but
I know it doesn't matter much to me anyway. I like the way that
subway train sounds: The Screech, The Dust, The
"HEY! Do not touch my ****!" The question:
"How could they possibly have put another advertisement up there?"
There's a person at the counter saying "ma'am, your ticket didn't go through" and there is a baby crying
and someone else who's rich and
probably, they're whining.
There's a person reading something and I crane my head to look
and I'm disappointed it's just another stupid John Grisham book. It's all the same:
the way I like to hate the Boston metro subway train.
Let's say you're mad
a science nerd
Let's say you build a contraption
a time warp
It's main function
to bend and twist
control time on a whim
then suddenly
time becomes a living thing
The nerd becomes unsure
time has teeth and claws
a crushing weight
that you must endure
Your advise?
I need a clue
my Frankenstein devise
has gone askew
should I pull the plug,
cut the wires?
perhaps time will then
quit and tire
A silly notion
to think I had power
over timeless time
I'm feeling sour!
aubergine Nov 2017
romola grey plays the glistery xylophone, one foot perched up on a potato mountain. in her arteries are gold rushes, klondike blood and moody oxygen. there is a particular grace to her madness: she used to be a seaweed keeper in carmel, long-finned pilot whale watcher in cork, hoary hair weaver in aix, newspaper delivery boy in columbus—she planted soulful cacophonies of watermelon kids who ice skated around her ankles.

romola grey hits the notes in vernacular solicitude, her fingers in antarctican winds, sloughs off half of the continent of dry skin. she looks for a wolf-boy who will listen to her calls, and her musical outpour of thunderous howls. but there is a nome-alaska body in her gut, corpuscled deep in her legs that trench a frozen pumpkin patch—for she is her own snowy witch with the back of a lion.
2012
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