"grands" poems - Hello Poetry

a love poem, of new & old, why I am the summer-man!^ summer is winding down, sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags, marked and named by hue, the where and the when, so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help, when the good things those good blues aroused, poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all, quite the opposite, these cold blues may help, to recall why it was worth breathing summer is winding down, so am I, the synchrony no accident, time, the Pharmacy kitchen calendar claiming another victim, willing or not, those cars and the blue eyed models, are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken, not finger scribed, for the keyboard a jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical of confusion hellish and my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending their little children, beloved concubines of my heart the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo, tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much; the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight, tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby, tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair, making rhymes with her next-next generational descendants, faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain; zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo, ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down! which she acts out with giggles galore, adding a teacup embellishment, a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping, the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny, but time to me *** and take a needed morning ***** no poppy! no poppy! no poppy! no nap, no *** no ***** thinking the call out is for her, stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out, foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her, get wheeled away crinkled and crackling, *zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down!* a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems

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Aug 22, 2019

Aug 22, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC

nat-lipstadt

#1299 : a new & old love poem: I am the summer-man!

a love poem, of new & old, why I am the summer-man!^ summer is winding down, sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags, marked and named by hue, the where and the when, so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help, when the good things those good blues aroused, poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all, quite the opposite, these cold blues may help, to recall why it was worth breathing summer is winding down, so am I, the synchrony no accident, time, the Pharmacy kitchen calendar claiming another victim, willing or not, those cars and the blue eyed models, are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken, not finger scribed, for the keyboard a jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical of confusion hellish and my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending their little children, beloved concubines of my heart the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo, tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much; the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight, tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby, tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair, making rhymes with her next-next generational descendants, faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain; zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo, ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down! which she acts out with giggles galore, adding a teacup embellishment, a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping, the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny, but time to me *** and take a needed morning ***** no poppy! no poppy! no poppy! no nap, no *** no ***** thinking the call out is for her, stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out, foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her, get wheeled away crinkled and crackling, *zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down!* a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems