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When winter's glaze is lifted from the greens,
And cups are freshly cut, and birdies sing,
Triumphantly the stifled golfer preens
In cleats and slacks once more, and checks his swing.

This year, he vows, his head will steady be,
His weight-shift smooth, his grip and stance ideal;
And so they are, until upon the tee
Befall the old contortions of the real.

So, too, the tennis-player, torpid from
Hibernal months of television sports,
Perfects his serve and feels his knees become
Sheer muscle in their unaccustomed shorts.

Right arm relaxed, the left controls the toss,
Which shall be high, so that the racket face
Shall at a certain angle sweep across
The floated sphere with gutty strings--an ace!

The mind's eye sees it all until upon
The courts of life the faulty way we played
In other summers rolls back with the sun.
Hope springs eternally, but spring hopes fade.
Sa Sa Ra Dec 2012
I have not really felt, so well complete after all,
So now I have realized a bit about it,
As it has been just a bit before;

Poo Pic,
Nice upon,
Lite Heart's,
Star Dust'd,
Too walls,

It's tickling,
Startling really as well,
I know what I do by each of my selves,
Whom at least are quite friendly,

Circuit completed,
Got past my brain gargling stricken struck stuff,
Straight to the heart reckoning awoken to a more fuller feeling than,
A filling feeling of up a cup, belly caught this quick like flash lightning,

Striken struck me gutty gut gut,
Did lots of laughing really, really it I,
I Eyed it, I did, that was before ole gargley,
Slow pokey brain had any chance or choice of it,
Presented in the matter...

But then I thought somehow again, and perhaps then,
It did help me think, I'm not really sure just like before,
More of a wander and a wonder of it all, And what of
but of completion, Oh gosh geez jolly, I was just lately
thinking I was really feeling so, I had thought oh,

You know once upon a time just like before,
So very lately really, I was really into, upon,
Onto things of such lately, but what of such,
Were ya wondering about thinking,

Asking or is it such...of what,
You hear more clearly worthy,
Asking See, though then now,

Is a thing,
A thing in half of completion,
Sure I am half complete here in,
One instant and in so dearly next to,
There the other some other here there,
Where of other of the other half too,
Too goes alright not so bad doing,
This so well just us two halves,
Too of completion

Beyond friendly we've been so almost together,
Is the heart of the matter, matter like things,
Or more like is it like weather, Whether,
Or not, Will I ever really ever come,
Together like Bride,
Bridegroom;
Would do...

Then would could perhaps a chance brain,
Tells me I must be here now just guessing,
And now then again all of a sudden not,
Too that was before remember,
I'm trying to remember yes,
Now I think I've got it,
'twas a wondering thing,
But I could be thinking again,
I am starting to think maybe someone,
Should just take this brain thing right out,
Of my head...

What a ponder,
I'd wonder yes the wondering thing,
As it were and too now this time really see it is,
Would, like a yonder instead, Oh by all means please,
I didn't mean leave, I am thinking about your yonder with,
Me for wander and ponder just so seemingly wonders instead,
Now I know what your thinking,

Hahaha I do,
Two, two half completions,
Weather the storms better,
Than two heads who,
Were just thinking

Ah Heart,
Heart Better
Whether
Weather
Matters
Or Not!!
          See Sea, Love
                    Y   O   U
                           e    V   Got!!!
                     E

      ~Sa Sa~~R
~Straight Up Rolling with the Ultimate Inspiration and Ya it was the Trumpet!!~~

~A Taste of Honey Video 1966~~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_KDPUTyDyQ

Poo Pic,
My favorite Day!!
Today!!

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=449442621784318&set;=a.422381444490436.98406.100001557525105&type;=3&theater
CK Baker Jul 2017
they fell from a tolleycroft trawler
(about a mile off the gary dock)
tossed in a bottlenose gulf stream
partially pasted on ruk and crustacean
belly ******* ragged
fender bent rolling
drifting on krill chop
past o' malleys
down juan de fuca
rubbing grain
into the gun barrel sea

twisted benjamins
nipped by the hungry swell
blunt on a wayward log
deep in the gutty storm
slack jaw, skinned
medling
over phosphorescence
and grayling
and cold erratic flow
(oh those seedy finman!)

driftwood gorge
at celebration light
sun carts rise
to the homecoming
(**** that nuisance moon!)
crimson tide
and contraband
strung on the greyhound
intervention essentials
with menacing roots

these crackers lack
all disposition
and tact
an enemy mask
lies deep within
blinded rodmen
on a shoreline retreat
where the franklin bills
are spinning
Terry Collett Oct 2013
Julie followed Benedict
from bookshop to bookshop
then they went in a cafe
on Charing Cross Road

and sat down
by the window
and ordered two coffees
and lit up cigarettes

how's it going
at the hospital?
he asked
gutty

she said
boring my ******* off    
I shouldn't be there
she inhaled deeply

on her cigarette
once you're off the drugs
you won't be
he said

I am off the drugs
she looked at him
well most of the time
she said

what do they say
at the hospital?
they said my parents
want me to stay there

until I'm cleaned off  
she said
but you're out today
he said

yes on good behaviour
she said
any sign
I've taken anything

then I'm locked in
and Daddy said
they'll have me sectioned
if need be

he has doctor friends
who will oblige
and him and Mother
being doctors themselves

it won't be difficult
she said
Benedict watched
as the waitress

brought the coffees
and put them on the table
and swayed off
in a Monroe fashion

we could take in a film
if you like
he said
no I don't want

to be stuck
in some smokey cinema
she said
I want to be out

in the fresh air
and see London
ok
he said

what about having a stroll
along the Thames Embankment?
then after take in
a look around an art gallery

you are full of fun
she said moodily
ok where then?
he said

some room someplace
and a good ****
she said
the word hung in the air

like a dark cloud
in the cafe
people gaped at her
I think they've got

Lichtenstein at the gallery
this month
he said
Pop Art stuff

he added
she pulled a face
then drew on her cigarette
you're in a mood

he said
maybe you should
have stayed at the hospital
and twiddled your thumbs

on the ward
she stared at him
releasing smoke
from her mouth slowly

ok the gallery
isn't too bad an idea
she said
but I'm gagging

for a fix
my body's screaming for it
she went quiet
and sipped her coffee

he looked at her
sitting there
dark brown hair
tied by a ribbon

her eyes staring
at the table
her fingers holding
the cup and cigarette

he recalled the time
at the hospital
when they'd managed
to be alone

in the small broom cupboard
and the quick ***
in the dark
between brooms

and dusters
and buckets
he smiled
what you smiling at?

she said
cupboard love
he said
she laughed

yes that was good
she said
unexpected too
and any moment

some poor cleaner
coming for a bucket
and seeing us at it
she stubbed out

her cigarette
in an ashtray
on the table
and they went out the cafe

and back along
towards Trafalgar Square
to the art gallery
to see what was there.
SET IN LONDON IN 1967.
Alex Apples Feb 2010
Drunken infatuation, leave away
Blurring the vision of reasonable men
Weakens knees, causes thought to stray
Clinging dreams that only “should have been”
Stirs in healthy folk a gutty knot
Ties the tongue or looses it by turn
Makes all common sense appear forgot
Chills the bones and leaves the face to burn
No cousin to true love, yet seems to me
Infatuation, more action does decree
Sarina Nov 2012
I did not bloom
  
     pink
underground
    summerless bulb

              mostly the
undercooked appearance

and gutty roar
         I did not bloom

     although it appears
that way –

speckled rose
with spread wings
                eating her days

     like knives
feeling small & summits

             I was born:
Worldly, sharp,
        the deranged.
David Lessard Sep 2015
Lost in the sweet rock and roll,
I hear the wailers shout;
Jerry Lee and Elvis, Little Richard,
what the music was about.

Living life up to the hilt,
the pounding of the piano;
like a fighter in the ring,
like Rocky Marciano.

Their opponent was the square,
today theyre called a nerd;
but it was rhythm and it was blues,
that through the void we heard.

Chuck Berry's song were gutty,
the lyrics interwoven;
he told Tchaikovsky the news,
and rolled on over Beethoven!

And Fats just walked us home,
past old Blueberry Hill;
said it was a shame,
I can them singing, still.
neth jones Mar 2020
discoloured words
a mass in my gob
bled down from the gutty brain
a study
plucky of death..

..if i widen my mouth
dislocate my serpent jaw
and exhume my ugliness
exhaust my ugly breath ...?

if ?

if i trot out the door
in this mug
with this base full of blather ?

i swipe ***** hands on my lap
and focus my eyes
adjust to the scene

this bold idea is not for me
today is a sick day
practice my interior tricks
the doles from my doctor
and reform as less bogged
less fastened to the kink
of The Individual
Feeling gutty in the middle of the cut

     stone

Slumped over with a treacherous hunch

     bones

Molten metal marrow, oil, coolant and blood

     growth

More like chicanery, leveling up to overpowered
To jamming the hand cannons taking potshots at cell towers

     ghost

Tracks sound eerie through the frigid fog
That yell, was it sasquatch or bullfrog courting bullfrog?

     post

Posted up on the corners, mugs lookin' mean
***** sidewalk questions if it's ever been clean

     gold

Are we little bits of carbon waiting to turn to gemstone
Or are we really just coal for the furnaces that feed the stacks of smoke?

— The End —