"doffing" poems
You or I could be lepers.
Or hideously deformed.
If we are it shouldn't matter.
Photography, mixed up and twisted.
Reborn.
Pictures misted.
Just who are you chatting to today?
Mentally.
physically.
internet voices.
Distorted.
Misinformed choices.
Maybe just genuine liars,
Getting kicks.
Turning tricks
Preying on others.
Taking the biscuit.
You could be an angel
Or one who follows you on cycle paths,
(PSYCHOPATHS)
Mental health issues falling out off your ears.
No problem with mental health issues.
Been there.
Done it.
Or better still put them onto your paper.
Best place to put them.
If you ask me.
Maybe a sliver of communion wafer.
Selling religion for half a crown.
Maybe half a silver dollar.
Ripping you off.
While doffing his hat.
Pretending to be,
What you can't see.
Words of naïveté.
From she who is down.
Unless you really know the one on the screen.
Be ever so careful and I'm not being mean.
(c) Livvi MMCV
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
"They say it's the tallest in the country, you know,"
the older man smiles.
His companion's eyes follow the trunk,
smooth and sheer, to the clouds
in wonder.
The topmost branches sway
and he feels himself adrift
beneath a giant mast,
sails flapping on the wind
as feathered cirrus fly through the blue beyond.
Just then a carriage bursts through the forest
causing them to leap from the path.
A bilious face glares out from inside.
"Mind out the ****** way
"Or I'll have you clapped in irons!"
scream the spit-spattered lips,
chins a-wobble petulantly above a too-tight collar.
"Begging your pardon, your grace,"
says the older man, doffing his cap and bowing
as the carriage careers on.
The young man is speechless with fury.
******* he screams.
*******
But the old man is clutching his sides with mirth.
"How can you laugh?
"That fat pig nearly killed us!"
The boy's agitation is making him dance.
"Clapped in irons for looking at a tree?"
"No, no," chuckles the older, "for looking at his tree!
"The height that leads our eyes
"Up towards heaven
"casts a long shadow over his wallet
"And the weight which fills us with awe and joy
"presses on his shoulders every day!
"Ownership is a terrible thing, my lad!"
And they make their way home,
free,
through the forest,
their forest,
laughing.
May 17, 2011
May 17, 2011 at 1:18 AM UTC
A wasp flew in when I left my screen-door ajar, and I blew on it, saying
"go away."
It's clinging to my balcony.
Now, in agitation, knows I hold nothing for it.
And the dogs bark, confused by entwined seasons.
Wind shouts with orders “Combat your deaths!"--
but I acquiesce to darkness in my mind; waiting for the summer
to submerge this springtime
which has momentarily come and outdone
winter.
Breeze carries, or generates, the wings, of my living
solace in the stinging tip of malice on that minute body
--ignoring tendrils which voice gratitude to day--
supplanting laughter with its ***** on down the road.
I want to see the child's face cry as it is initiated into suffering,
smile breaking as he comes to see its transience.
Then slowly I will look down. In shame, walking past this station
toward my exit
and
the street which bears your name.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
In the park,was a mahogany bench,
you know the one,
by the babbling brook,
sheltered beneath the bowing tree,
lay a crumpled up sleeping bag,
made out of glossy nylon.
At the end of the bench lay a black dog,
with his matted knot of gritty hair,
around his neck he wore a collar,
red, yellow, green and blue tartan,
had a shiny bell attached,
living on the park bench,
not always fun.
Well, it was really rather spartan,
the ***** had gone for a *****
He wandered away,
over the park,
trotted off,
much rejuvenated,
after his night on the bench.
Went into the bushes to have a quick ***
he hid in the shrubs,
so the kids didn't see,
God he was so relieved,
when his ****** ran free,
he collected his azure sleeping bag,
made it all sound so pleasant,
had, to make it sound so classy,
how, he glamorised that old nylon cover,
as he,
hid it in the trees for the rest of the day,
hoped his sleeping bag remained hidden,
in the main,
his only prayer,
it didn't rain.
Grabbed, hold of ****
his faithful Scottish dog,
meandered along the bank,
doffing his hat at the ladies he met,
"top of the morning to you ladies,"said he,
who proceeded to poke their beaks in the air,
guess, these days nobody cares.
Once he was a man of certain means,
hard times had caught him,
he was still a gent,
without his money,
his love was all spent!
(C) Livvi
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
The cap emerged from the leaf strewn path
Doffing duff and dew
The Gnome blinked his eyes as he stood cap to cap
He knew just what to do.
Its cap was as red as the one on his head
With speckles as white as the snow
Some say it’s toxic, will leave you dead
But that’s not what the Gnomes know.
The Gnome knows it’s good, be it cooked or raw
That it makes a most potent brew
The Gnome got on his knees as he started to saw,
Thinking of mushroom stew.
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 2:09 PM UTC
for that girl at a concert in 1968
she shed her clothes
in a moment's abandon
and danced naked
before the swaying crowd
she was young
she was beautiful
she was a vision
of possibility
she must be
approaching 70 now
she is someone's
grandmother
she spends her days
in sweats feeling her
knee replacement ache
were she to suddenly
dance naked in public
her children
would commit her
still, sometimes
in her secret heart
she imagines
doffing her clothes
and twirling
once again
within the music
of a more generous time
before her world
was damaged beyond
recovery
she imagines,
but she doesn't
~mce
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
I just learned (via email)
from a close paternal relative Pamela Noblitt
that my paternal grandfather (Aaron Harris),
when in his prime fit
as a fiddle served
in the Phillipine American War,
which sharpened his fighting skills a bit
and posthumously thank him het all
plus belated gratitude
for late maternal Uncle Paul
(hoof aught in World War II) etrenched in foxholes,
or slithered snaking upon the enemy to stall
and good ole dad, strapping and tall
during height of physical maturation
(who oft times recounted exploits,
sans far from the front lines
and imaginary brick wall
about his role in the Korean/American War –
when prodded by thine eldest
collegiate eldest grown daughter),
and hob bet cha y'll
and blinked back tears
knowing thee above kith and kin,
when figuratively at bat
survived, and avoided significant mortal combat,
came home to a warm welcome as handome chaps
encountering aswarm of young ladies,
an armada vis a vis amorous coup d'etat
some returning troopers most likely
kept their word
(made before boot camp) promising flat
outright to marry girlfriends,
highschool sweethearts,
or maybe medics, which feminine touch,
went to the heart and soul buzzfeeding,
creating, enticing with gnat
much effort, one or another
tough leather neck
to blatantly proposition – doffing hat
with suave debonair courting
meowing a silky gal named “Kat”.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
👧🏿🧒🏻👧🏼..Expectant children decorate their Christmas tree
Offerings to the tree are made
Garlands, lighting and hand drawn images appear
The tree wide awake for Christmas eve
I slumber through the years
Nemeton am protected
My girth eternally expanding
Limbs branching out
Tap roots secure my soul
My time in earth is soon to finish
So I must prepare
Engage thru progenitors
Meditating joy to spread
Contemplation of upheaval to come
A sleigh draws up
Snow crystals fly with the driver’s sneeze
Smiling and doffing an elven hood
A tingle to my core
Arousing me from my sleep
Its time to pull myself from the earth clutches
I sprawl onto the sleigh
Arrive we do below an aurora borealis
Elves hold leashes to the solar winds
Empty boxes are being piled high on the sleigh
The elf starts to dress me
Two large baubles
A large red blanket and belt
Moccasin boots
I stand transformed
Reindeers hooves dig into the snow
Whilst solar tethers are attached
Climbing pulled by the solar sail
Time starts to slacken
Waving elf’s below now frozen in time
The silver light of sleeping homes appear below
A cousin opens a window
Enchanted boxes I pass across
Children's aspirations start to appear
Each box now filled by a touch of their tree
The sleigh knows where to go
Reaching all my house bound cousins
Carrots will be welcomed
Drinks duly absorbed
No advent signs left behind
Returning the sleigh lands gracefully
Time resumes
My work is done
Love is strengthened for this world
The friendly elf delicately removes the traces of Christmas from me
Natures embalming bio-presence
I am re-formed
Unable to plant my feet I am spent
I lay down along with all my Christmas cousins
Await my renascence
Soon the wishes of many
Come true
The gifts are being opened
An outbreak of happiness unveiled
Affection unfolds with the opening of a box
Many will not have a Christmas tree
Or a home
Maybe sick
Or have no parents
Think of them this Christmas day 🧑🎄
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 9:17 AM UTC
Mouth spake,
Doffing the cape,
Sturdy oak,
Shedding the cloak,
Softer, deeper,
Sower, reaper,
I get you!
Look up,
Blueness divine,
Look down,
Depths sublime,
Closer, darker,
Feeling, marker,
I get you!
Truth - what’s that,
Figment- that’s that,
Fusing, blending,
Looking, listening,
Said, unsaid,
Seen, unseen,
I get you!
Sprinkles and showers,
Gazes and flowers,
A mug of coffee,
A sniff softly,
A nuzzle at the nape,
A twist in your arms to drape,
I get you!
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 11:55 PM UTC