"canes" poems
lines cut heavy
on a button stretched brow
thick rubber shoes
and dragon canes
fill out the closet floor
gospel sounds
and narratives (drowned)
apparitions set sullenly
amid voices from the past
finger pins
and crosswords
find the favor list
point men and preachers
tip up their tuscany caps
twitching and sign gazing
with spectacles held firm
recurring evening news
and beadledom views
clappers and caregivers
raise a crooked foot
grips and rockers
settle in on the front porch
gertrude grimaces
at an untimely turn
as the gooseberry pie
(with a smidgen of cloves)
chills by the night watch
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
Where we shoveled coal into the furnace was an inconsiderable door. Behind it held ***** chubby cherubs with cherry tomato noses, whose job it was to keep the fires of our parent's liquor cabinets full. This they did to keep them from constantly beating us, but the happy distraction did not always work. So, we would pluckily go. Go to the scuzzy pond at dusk with kerosine lanterns and listen for croaks. We tied forks to the ends of canes or stakes and would gig bullfrogs for dinner. It became only momentarily mortifying, but was always a choice way of ridding our sisters and other clingy girls of our company. We'd fry the legs in cornstarch and pepper flakes and be allowed to share with the adults their beer if it was a good catch. Usually, it was. Most of forever we waited for teaberry season, always the best time of the year. Though it was hotter than Beelzebub's bath water we'd go swimming in that **** pond to reach our favorite teaberry patches. This ensured our riches and fame throughout our Appalachian village. Everyone would eat teaberry ice cream and sing our names and no one beat us on those days.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 3:08 PM UTC
MThis is the month
Momma sets up the christmas tree
Daddy helps string the lights
Brother puts the ornaments on the bright tree
I sip my sweet tea
Sister And I set up the miniture christmas village
The christmas tree and village are created
Warm coco and candy canes await
Across the street the another New York Family
Is setting up their own tree
Back at the gold's
Coco is slurped And candy
Chewn but really all the presents
Under the tree soon to be seen have a happy
Place to be til christmas
***then to come will be a special New Years and it's Eve
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
* soft spoken intro *
*The tree,
With its lights,
***** and tinsel,
Garland, excitement,
Of these nights,
The mistletoe and a star…
Ornaments,
See the candy canes,
Icicles,
And a door wreath,
On a cold,
Snowy Christmas Eve!
Toys of Elvin-creation gleam, faces of the children they smile and beam, pitter-patter sounds of feet stomp -ing; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Santa Claus and Christmas-time, sing a-long with our cheery rhyme, nothing ever feels so fine; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Spicy scent of pumpkin pies, hear the reindeer when his sleigh arrives, toting presents that jolly guy; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Santa, St. Nick, Sinterklaas, around the whole world in one night -no pause, and a childhood feeling that’ll never be lost; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Tally-Ho! Jolly-fun! The night ain’t over till Santa’s done; a night of magic you won’t believe, it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
It’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
Took the 17 down nicollet
Passed the City Center
Passing time
Passing men on the streets with an open guitar case
Passed the kids with their skateboards
Passed the guys covered in ink playing fight night on the street
Fifth street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
The sharks fight the jets
Romeo goes to Juliet
Old men with canes talk on their cell phones
Nicollet and 4th feels a little heavy tonight
11:47 comes my bus
Down 4th ave
Passing time
Passing the former home of the Twins
Passed the cops with their lights on
Passed some kids in their visors
Red light
Doswell street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
Out on the street
Street lamps glow fluorescent
New moon fixed in the stars
Tilted, slightly
The tweakers stay in the shack down the block
They’ve got the rocks in their socks
And they’re sleeping on the carpet
Welcome mat turned over
Shades drawn tight
And an icy cold feeling runs in their veins
And they roll back into a dream
Apartment building
Stairwell
Door 10
Living room.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
That day, something got into me.
Approaching the corner of 155th
and Broadway on the Upper West Side,
my friend and I were only a block from home.
Either we'd been on a mission for candy necklaces
or bubble gum cigars, from the place where the guy
was always grumpy, never actually scary,
and the sawdust on the floor, the real cigars
in fancy boxes, were something to wonder about.
Or we had just scored our first fresh sugar canes,
one each, and much taller than either of us.
The kindly Puerto Rican green grocer, proud
of his new shop, hoped we'd try the plantains
too, getting a kick out of our delight
in what he'd always known.
The light was red, and we weren't in a hurry.
I just got curious about this trap door on the side
of the old cast iron signal post,
and decided to see
if it would open... and it did.
Smiling to myself, an uncommon, delicious
sense of mischief lighting me up inside,
I calmly flipped a switch.
Instantly, all four lanes of traffic, heading north
and south on Broadway came to a screeching halt.
The feeling of power was intoxicating.
And unforgettable.
Had I been an older kid, had the policeman
who happened by been less lenient, had anyone, God forbid,
been injured, I could have been in some serious trouble.
Injury never entered my mind, and maybe the officer saw that.
All in all, I got away with the only really naughty thing
I did as a child, and still get to smile.
And remember.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC
Colorful, tasty
Sticky swirls, canes, and powders
Make the tongue delight.
Ambulance, paramedics
Diabetic coma; sigh
Dec 30, 2009
Dec 30, 2009 at 12:50 PM UTC
Santa sat and looked about the mess that lay before him
"How will I get these gifts all wrapped and gone by Christmas morning?"
The workshop looked as though it had been hit by a Tornado
But instead it was all the fault of *** he brought back from Tobago
A little shot in the elves egg nog would make them all work faster
But, as he saw the end result was short of a disaster
The more they drank the more they all got up and danced on tables
And in the end elf Juniper was left wearing only labels
She looked quite good despite her age, she was just about six thirty
And what she did with candy canes...well, you can say it was quite *****
The paper stretched from room to room, many miles were unravelled
Santa looked at the mess again, and thought "It's high time that I travelled"
He left the North to make a trip to hire cleaning staff
But , turned the reindeer right around, because he knew they'd laugh
How do you tell a person that you are about to hire
That the mess that they will soon clean up, is because my elves were wired
Santa thought that magic would be just the way to go
He would use it to clean up the mess, and nobody would know
The only problem with this stunt is that magic has a rule
He can only use it Christmas eve, it was not his private tool
The toys were strewn everywhere, and most were broke or nicked
He would have to wake the elves all up and to start things getting fixed
So, if you wake up Christmas morn and there is nought beneath your tree
Don't worry, Santas late, he should be there by three
He left a little late this year, but he will be by real quick
And he swore to never serve elves ***** or his name is not Saint Nick!
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
Big and rowdy,
loud and lovely
it stands on my porch
sprawling with filiform tentacles
the thorn-armored canes
my bougainvillea uses as
claws to etch indelible memories
of unforgettable summers on my mind.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
Being weird is important to me. I find it's a gift because it means that you are different than everyone else. I know I am weird because not very many 9th girls have my hairstyle. I say weird things. Instead of saying, what's up, I say "wasabi". I tell corny jokes. I'm weird because I like hugs and not very many teenagers like hugs. I'm weird because I eat olives and sunflower seeds, for snack. I'm weird because I believe in fairy tales characters like mermaids, fairies and unicorns though people tell me that they're not real. I'm weird because I'd rather read a good book than watch T.V. I'm weird because I have at least 20 nerd glasses and 5 snap backs. There are so many ways to be weird. I'm the weirdest person I know so I'll use myself as an example.
I know I'm weird because not very many girls have dreads at 14 years old. I also say weird things. Instead of "what's up? "I saying "wasabi". I also tell corny jokes that I know aren't funny like, what did the penguin say when his friend asked "why did you slap me? ! " He said, ¨I didn't slap you, I high fived your face." It's not all that funny is it ….Thats why its weird to say it.
I'm weird because I like to give hugs to show someone I care, but others only do that with boyfriends and girlfriends. A ****** like me might have a fairytale land of their own, where fairies, mermaids and unicorns live. I have a fairytale land of my own, full of candy canes and gumdrops, fairies, mermaids and unicorns. I have a black unicorn with a green and neon yellow horn, green tail, and a neon yellow mane. His name is Lucky. His favorite snack is Skittles and, his favorite food is graham crackers. His favorite drink is strawberry milk. We have dinner under my tree full of hearts. I'm weird because all that I just said is childish, but I don't care.
A ****** like me might rather read a good book than watch television. A ****** like me might have twenty pair of nerd glasses and five snapbacks. A ****** like me might not wear dresses, skirts, or shorts. A ****** like me might write books and poems.A ****** like me might fall on purpose to make someone laugh. A ****** like me might like school. A ****** like me might stare into space without noticing. I do this five times a week for at least two minutes; weird right. A ****** like me may dance, sing, or look up at the sky randomly without knowing. I'm me and you're you. I'm not you and you're not me. So, please don't judge weirdo's for being who they are because they're gonna be them and you're gonna be you because that's how its suppose to be. So how weird are you? I bet it is not weirder than me.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 10:53 AM UTC
If love is pain and pain is pleasure,
Then these bruises she shall use as,
your affection measure.
To visualise love,
To feel your feelings,
To sense it as her wounds are healing.
Seeing, hearing,
Following Your scent,
To know just what it represents.
She’ll take the leap,
relinquish control
As further she delves down your rabbit hole.
Enjoy the journey
but were’s the destination?
Your marks, your love? The correlation?!!
Some want to hurt,
some want to bleed.
To watch the inner anguish freed.
A world, a life,
A religious order?
His canes the relics to to this mental disorder.
See external pain,
is internal anaesthetic,
His marks she believes to be truly stigmatic.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
1 The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
2 'Tis summer, the darkies are gay,
3 The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom
4 While the birds make music all the day.
5 The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
6 All merry, all happy and bright:
7 By'n by Hard Times comes a knocking at the door,
8 Then my old Kentucky Home, good night!
9 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
10 We will sing one song
11 For the old Kentucky Home,
12 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
13 [Solo] They hunt no more for the possum and the ****
14 On the meadow, the hill and the shore,
15 They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
16 On the bench by the old cabin door.
17 The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
18 With sorrow where all was delight:
19 The time has come when the darkies have to part,
20 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!
21 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
22 We will sing one song
23 For the old Kentucky Home,
24 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
25 [Solo] The head must bow and the back will have to bend,
26 Wherever the darkey may go:
27 A few more days, and the trouble all will end
28 In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
29 A few more days for to tote the weary load,
30 No matter 'twill never be light,
31 A few more days till we totter on the road,
32 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!
33 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
34 We will sing one song
35 For the old Kentucky Home,
36 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
3.7k
i have a wish for christmas.
rainbow dream an turtle dove.
yummy yummy to my tummy,
on this christmas day.
i have a wish for christmas.
ginger bread men.
and candy cane.
yummy yummy to my tummy
on this christmas day.
i have a wish for christmas.
rocky road cookie dough
yummy yummy to my tummy
on this christmas day.
i have wish for christmas.
rainbow dots an sugar plums
yummy yummy to my tummy
on this christmas day.
i have a wish for christmas.
rainbow dreams an turtle dove
yummy yummy to my tummy
on this christmas day
i have a wish for christmas.
ginger bread men and
candy canes
yummy yummy to my tummy
on this christmas day
i have wish for christmas
rocky road and cookie dough.
yummy yummy to my tummy
on this christmas day.
i have wish for christmas.
rainbow dot sugar plums
yummy yummy to my tummy
on this christmas day.
repeat verse 5 time that the song
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 9:12 PM UTC
Star
on the top
of a Christmas tree.
Lights all around are sparkling.
Smells of hot cocoa and cinnamon too,
all of this leading my mind straight to you.
Love in the air, so hard to resist.
Singing of songs is so hard to miss, and
being so close to the people you love, makes
everything seem to glow from above.
But, nothing's the same without peppermint
canes, or chocolate Santas, or a warm fireplace,
or the breath of a child as they play in the snow,as
they're building a snowman, and their eyes start to glow.
Then night
comes so
soon and
the house is
so quiet, then
children go to
bed, though
they're really
so excited.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
Lets build an empire
we can start with a single city
lets paint the roofs pink
with ebony black streets
i want power-lines like spiders webs
and *** plants dangling of eves like candy canes
i want love to be the currency
and replicate
lets build an empire
roads joining our cities like spindled wool
lets tunnel through the mountains in our path
and bridge the Atlantic
lets infect the world
our citizens of love,
lets make the only dictionary definition of race define
the act of running from one side of a field to another
Lets build an Empire
A world where dreamers are called human
and your sadness is almost as irreverent,
as your plan to paint the moon purple
and make tails an optional extra at birth
I want the world joined by routes our fingers traced
on the globe in your room,
i want the stars to spell out or names like the light shade on your ceiling
you
are my foundations
and with your gracious consent
i would love nothing more , then upon your soil
to lay the foundations of my dreams
our empire.
LG
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
The forgotten umbrella
Fretted
Did he get wet?
Cry because it was missing?
Would his mother have given him a beating?
Benches and desks
Are cozing
The board still retains
The day’s remnants
Night came,
The umbrella was in tears
Rain rain
Umbrella umbrella
Said the rain outside
Only the umbrella heard
His voice was raining over the shower
“my darling umbrella”
Crying itself to sleep,
Headmaster’s room
Came in a dream
Question papers, canes
Maps, globe, skeleton,
Chalk power,
Fat lady teachers,
Farts and baloney
Startled itself awake
No, it is not light yet
Through the darkness
Nothing other than his embroidered name
Still you forgot me!
Other umbrellas came
And sat on either sides
Didn’t you get wet yesterday?
Didn’t you go home?
How can it be said that he forgot me?
There he is!
Umbrella closed its eyes
Let him come running
Give a hundred kisses
He didn’t come even after the bell rang
On opening the eyes, saw
His new darling umbrella
Hasn’t put it down..
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Bright vegetables of the sea,
disordered hair, thin arms.
Tubes protrude among vivid coral,
an array of shades against a sapphire canvas.
Wobbly vermilion wires poke out
from under rust-coloured rocks.
A clown swims quick through the middle,
orange in a forest of fingers.
Pink bonbons, candy canes,
an underwater confectionery store.
Some throb with electricity,
small pools of violet light near their homes.
Others ***** rainbows
from deep open mouths.
Waltzing in solitude
as tangerine horses gallop.
More creatures weave past,
realise they are in a multi-hued hug.
Hidden paint splatters,
are they aliens of the deep?
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
342
It will be Summer—eventually.
Ladies—with parasols—
Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes—
And little Girls—with Dolls—
Will tint the pallid landscape—
As ’twere a bright Bouquet—
Thro’ drifted deep, in Parian—
The Village lies—today—
The Lilacs—bending many a year—
Will sway with purple load—
The Bees—will not despise the tune—
Their Forefathers—have hummed—
The Wild Rose—redden in the Bog—
The Aster—on the Hill
Her everlasting fashion—set—
And Covenant Gentians—frill—
Till Summer folds her miracle—
As Women—do—their Gown—
Of Priests—adjust the Symbols—
When Sacrament—is done—
2.8k
Fat people canes
They buckle and break
Fat people canes
They smell faintly of steak
Fat people canes
Always arched
Fat people canes
Holding up the heavily starched
Fat people canes
Struggle down the street
Fat people canes
An aid for battered feet
Fat people canes
Support poorly distributed weight
Fat people canes
Caught within a sewer grate
Fat people canes
Can't handle the load
Fat people canes
Easing movements slowed
Fat people canes
Used to skewer crumbs
Fat people canes
Used to butter buns
Fat people canes
Prop for a hefty handicap
Fat people canes
Can't fit within a taxi-cab
Fat people canes
Deserve a wage
Fat people canes
Traded in for a Rascal with age
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
Wet paper towels,
And broken candy canes.
I'm cleaning again.
You asked me if I was okay,
And I continued to throw scraps of paper in the trash.
I'm cleaning again.
Ten minutes ago your eyes danced with mine,
And now I'm wiping away the marker stains.
I'm cleaning again.
I toss my feelings down
But no amount of scrubbing can rub them away.
I'm cleaning again.
You spent the day with me,
And I'm cleaning again.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 5:44 AM UTC
Day breaks on Doubletop Mountain, shadowing villages below.
Three-thousand eight hundred feet tall, it captures the eye!
And standing at attention there in front of me, a battalion of Sugar Maples in full…. Fall…. Regalia!
Cascading tones of Crimsons, Burgundy, scarlet reds and Golden Hue.
Gazing over Dunk Hill as farmer’s plow fields, turn again for fertility,
There are only brief streams of life giving sunlight, and now the sky turns to a pale grey.
Me, well I live for this time of year….enjoying the evening autumn constellations,
Or Moms dining table adorned with Indian corn and blackberry canes!
Bessie's Margaretville home begins the fall ritual of canning and drying.
Breaking out winter clothes…as she proclaims "no whites after Labor Day"!
The last bit of warmth now dwells just behind the Catskill’s Harvest Moon,
And the V of geese honk their good-byes to the summer sun.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?
The barbarians are due here today.
Why isn't anything happening in the senate?
Why do the senators sit there without legislating?
Because the barbarians are coming today.
What laws can the senators make now?
Once the barbarians are here, they'll do the legislating.
Why did our emperor get up so early,
and why is he sitting at the city's main gate
on his throne, in state, wearing the crown?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and the emperor is waiting to receive their leader.
He has even prepared a scroll to give him,
replete with titles, with imposing names.
Why have our two consuls and praetors come out today
wearing their embroidered, their scarlet togas?
Why have they put on bracelets with so many amethysts,
and rings sparkling with magnificent emeralds?
Why are they carrying elegant canes
beautifully worked in silver and gold?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and things like that dazzle the barbarians.
Why don't our distinguished orators come forward as usual
to make their speeches, say what they have to say?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and they're bored by rhetoric and public speaking.
Why this sudden restlessness, this confusion?
(How serious people's faces have become.)
Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly,
everyone going home so lost in thought?
Because night has fallen and the barbarians have not come.
And some who have just returned from the border say
there are no barbarians any longer.
And now, what's going to happen to us without barbarians?
They were, those people, a kind of solution.
2.4k
I want to grow young with you
Watch superhero movies when
Our hairs turn silver blue
I want you to sing silly songs
Snort with laughter at my accents
When the days get long
I want to color in books with you
Read aloud our favorite tales
When the moon is full and new
I want to be your partner-in-crime
Canes tapping in synchronicity
When it's adventuring time
I want us to skydive, soar, be bold
so you and I will be growing young
long after our children have grown old
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
He stood a little over six feet tall, with eyes as sharp
As when glass etches its way through the thick skin of my soles
He was a pretty boy, but cold, with a tongue that tasted as sweet
as the candy canes during christmas time
Did I love the pretty boy? I often wonder when I sit at night dragging at the roots of my thin hair
Crying over the time he crushed my pride with a few words,
sharp as daggers etching its way into my chemical receptors
Sending me into a state of ultimate desolation, of depression,
of pain I could never imagine I would have to suffer through
Pulling on my uniform at 5 am, forcing the smile on to my pale face, drained of life and blood that begun to bubble into my chest,
A pretty boy made me wish for death,
I can't seem to forget,
When I cried out in pleasure, clutching to his toned body, a foreign feeling to my inexperienced self that left me as stiff as rigor mortis
The pretty boy,
With eyes freezing akin to the ice that fell during the coldest winter,
words as sweet as roses with thorns,
etching its way between my thighs, tasting the little innocence I had left
The pretty boy,
Still lingers in the deepest part of my memories,
In such a short time, I let myself become enveloped into the arms of death
in the cloak of an angel,
The pretty boy,
I wished he had come back to me.
The pretty boy,
That doesnt think of me in bed with the woman he truly loves,
her voice, not mine
That captivates him at nighttime
The pretty boy,
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
I changed a few Christmas' back
From a grinch to a believer
I realized one special day
Santa Claus was not a deceiver
I was working at my job one day
Playing Santa for the staff
Confounding all the customers
And making children laugh
Not many knew that it was me
Dressed as Santa Claus that day
And it changed the way I acted
I had carte blanche to play
Wearing the suit is not a task
It's an honor to be sure
It brings out your inner Christmas
And it opens up a door
A door to something buried
Cynicism, of man's greed
Wear a Santa Suit and you
Will get all the faith you need
A child had been watching me
I'd been watching her some too
She came and said "I don't believe"
She said "It's because I am a Jew"
I must admit this startled me
So I got down on one knee
I said "You may not believe in Christmas"
"But, I'm sure you believe in me"
I gave the girl a candy cane
For, I knew she wanted that
And the suit brought out my Inner Claus
It pulled some magic from it's hat
I said "do you believe in what you see"
She said she did, I'd sealed the deal
I held my hand for her to touch
"And my hand, does it feel real?"
She smiled and she said it did
Then I laughed at her because
The look that spread across her face
said "You are, you are Santa Claus"
At this point her brother came
And said "It's just some one in a suit"
I must admit, I wanted to just
give this lad a boot
I gave the girl two candy canes
One for her and for her brother
I told her to say it's from me
When they checked out with their Mother
She hugged me, said "I know you're real"
And she gave me one hug more
And when she went to find her mum
I left through a secret door
I stood and watched the little girl
give the candy to her brother
She said it was from Santa Claus
To the consternation of her mother
He turned around to look for me
But, I was not around
I'd left you see, and was watching him
To him I'd not be found
The look I saw upon his face
When he noticed I was gone
Was confusion, for I'd not gone past
Christmas magic had been done
I wore the suit a few more times
And I must admit because
Once you wear the Santa Suit
You are always Santa Claus.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 9:11 AM UTC