"filches" poems
He's hunkered down
for the night,
I know this toasted
do-not-disturb-me
duvet-bundled shape.
I won't disturb him
though he snores,
grunts, filches
more duvet from
my half of the bed.
His hair's
too boyishly tousled
on the pillow,
his familiar spine
so purpose-built
for lying
beside, nuzzling
against, sneaking
my arm around
in the dark.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
not one
of the moon's mystic seas is filled
with their yelping
though those
haunting harmonies save me from solitude
on the naked prairies
the sky, cold, awash
with wispy clouds, carries their sour song,
a dirge no creatures emulate
like they, I howl at the proud wolf moon;
it ignores me as it does them, but ‘tis regally round
for only a blink in time, then mournful
as it wanes to penumbra
in earth’s shadow
the wild dogs and I
cease our serenade, but wait in darkness
to cast another refrain when the ornery orb again
filches the dying sun’s light
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 10:56 PM UTC
Hollow words **** Eat the egg by the pound
Now the garish middle trees are supporting falling off the ridge
Dare we go on with this dredge
Like a lightbulb a canon filches the purse
Byron you wrote you write
Every substantiatable corn
Harp harp on the nails digging into the digable ground
Not like the pillow filled with clouds is the
Syringe tinted
Immobile tank last windows breath sank
Lycan depose
Merry hard rot and decompose
Songs of worth and old
Diametrically opposite to the
World on its toes
Blalala let the intern take his copy of its book to the marlin fishing grounds where the floodbanks roar over the waters and the tree leaves sank into the gravel patterns brave little capitol letters
Hee hah hee hah
Tripe and tripe on the wheels of Atlantis
You’re exposed! Naw
Thought and thoughted that the world was a cup
Believe a word and your life could be ruined
Believed their words now my life is ruined
Have I now peddled the unmistakable
And I ask, “But can truth be sold?”
While a million others stole by
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
Ahem.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXXIIII)
The game of yes, pipe cleaners, raised sans bail
Its stakes, for I am not allowed aught hence,
All are the cats to dance oer, leaving thence
Their toys wherever. Hide mine here t'avail
Or there, how Tigger'd query, that detail
No safety as she hunts and filches, sense
Keen on all I have, til where is defense?
I've givn them now a couple, but all'd fail.
Is it a game of hide-and-seek as twere?
Oh me! Mine used to sit out in plain view
Where I could grab and use it sans in tour
A second thought; no nowhere's safe. The two
Have put dibs on ALL sets of that til's poor
Now to resist? Oh LORD, how we wait You.
27Aug25b
Sep 7, 2025
Sep 7, 2025 at 11:46 PM UTC