"mufflers" poems
Harmattan!! Harmattan!!
My favourite season
Embrace of the crisp air
Sending chills through my body
Harmattan!! Harmattan!!
a little bruise
With so much pain
Such is my bodys fragility
Harmattan!! Harmattan
The mufflers, sweaters and gloves
All giving warmth
A universal feeling
Which makes us one
Harmattan!! Harmattan!!
The flu, cough and fever
Drowning my sickness
With pots of hot soup and tea
Though, you come with so much baggage
I love you always and forever.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
A leaf falls
Brown and wrinkled
Starved of it's trees sweet nectar
A leaf falls
And while they are shedding their summer cloaks
We are adorning ourselves with scarves and hats,
Gloves and mufflers
Shivering at their barely clad skeletons
Huddling around their burning flesh
A leaf falls
It twists and dances in the wind
joyous at it's freedom
joyous as it plummets to the earth
Nourishment for it's mother tree
We watch and marvel at the beauty in the entropy
At the renewal that comes with destruction
A leaf falls
A change is upon us
A rebirth into a crisp and clear world
A leaf falls.
May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 8:07 PM UTC
Totally awesome speech
Makes me smile
Totally ruthless words
Crack me up
If you agree with this fact, come on then… back me up
Those amazing phrases in a movie that made you want to yell ‘PREACH!’
Words that leave you lost for words
When you’re on your own… glued to the screen and you guffaw
Just laugh aloud… and that’s allowed
That dumb **** that made you almost crap your pants
“A flaming tiger with wings! Dude! That’s like Chinese for shut the f*ck up and dance!”
Heard that in a stupid flick
It didn’t even take it’s time before tickling the **** of me
This film just begun… then started to get stupid quick
And there were no mufflers… the curses flowed freely
I loved it!
Pretentious people going “Awww c’mon now… dude this is sick!”
Ummm… for you maybe
I have an open minded sense of humour
The notion...
That one cannot just simply make a joke about a dead baby
I may agree with… maybe
But I cracked up at the one where the wife says… “I’m taking time off because I’m pregnant.”
And the Dictator replies “That’s great! So, are you having a boy… or an abortion?”
If you're the touchy type
Kindly refrain yourself from taking offense and getting all welled up with emotion.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 7:36 AM UTC
My ****** mind craved
a new hearing from you
I would sit night after night
Imagining castles and angels
I would dress not in a cape
But in Burberry mufflers and a hat
learning to serenade in your voice.
The in betweens beckon once in a while
but i have known the true voice
just like you know from deep within.
I know of a woman who thought picking cherries
and dreaming of castles were for the wrong
I know of another woman,
Evolved from the Eloi Clan
And Elvish. And she sings
The rain to sleep.
She is Bella
I am learning
to breath
and I hope you still do.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
fireflies zigzag following pupils pin *****
light mayonaise layers dead flesh and dead seeds
shadows bleed through the cracks
a lone train howls its hastening arrival
Alarming call like an unseen wolf
Flashing lights overhead and a low rumble
a condensed storm
helicopter cradling its dying cargo
bringing a regurgitation for the baby bird
disguised as a hospital with a faltering business plan
mufflers and mosquitoes parry the blows
winded joggers step next to termite eaten trees
Channel surfing seen a strobe lite
betraying the activities behind the neighboors
curtained windows scene
rituals carve another day into the known
comfort is routines cage
a worn trail rut that hardly allows
a different direction roll the stone uphill
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 10:15 PM UTC
Christmas on Hydra.
Fingers interlocked
squeezing tightly
I and you
looking at
the shimmering sea
kissing each other as
passersby are surreptitiously
stealing a look at our eternal bliss
swathed in mufflers
with breaths misting up
the crisp winter air.
I and you
melting
into each other forever
during this holiday season.
The poem is published by Silver Birch Press. To view it visit :https://silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/2015/12/08/christmas-on-hydra-poem-by-sofia-kioroglou-me-during-the-holidays-poetry-and-prose-series/
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 5:49 AM UTC
Let us rise once more as saplings sprouted from gravel,
by the highways where the mufflers of the buses threaten
to blow us all
away, and sprout none
the lesser and watch for
maya: who may take our seeds and spread them and we
by them survive, strangled as we are by breath, exhaust and
white smoke: teach them with our dying leaves their names,
and let them mouth
it on their tongues, discoloured as they might be by
their birth, and see
and hear once more
the cars’ horned blare
and the tired cackle of gravel,
and the whistles of the trains rushing to: up, forth and
away, farther farther farther farther from the cracks where
they must have heard it, and with that sound pick themselves up
and give chase
to that sound that too
is theirs, but fading
away from where they too were born, and begin to begin again.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 4:24 AM UTC
There is a forgetfulness
To pride that
Will never be cured
By stop signs,
Cold-culled footsteps
Telling you to
Step back,
Traffic stops pointing you
In opposite directions.
"Pride"
Is but a matter of here
And hearing—
Of hear and now—
Of watching the tail ends
Of mufflers blow
You off with exhaust
Smoke and choke
On their spit—
Honking at your pride
And unsure gait,
Leading you into alleyways
Sprawling with brightly
Colored graffiti,
Pink painted faces, misfit
Tongues and a silence
Uncharacterized by
The glamour of the city—
Only this
They deem yours.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
Brewing over a cup of steaming coffee,
And warm, fluffy, syrupy pancakes,
Our chemistry could be the perfect recipe
For a weekend romantic escapade.
Grand tales of eternal, undying love
I really, can not promise you,
But my giggles around you are real,
The new stride in my step is true!
And every time my eager eyes
Communicate with your smiling ones,
My winter-heart heaves sighs so deep,
I sometimes fear you could hear them!
So, wrapped in mufflers and woolly caps,
Come, laugh along at my red-tipped nose,
And live a short-lived fairy tale with me,
Who knows, we may just outlast the snows!
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
Fathers
With girl daughters
Fathers
With boy sons
Fathers who strive
Fathers who thrive
Fathers
With without families
Fathers
who do what they have to do
For their girl daughters
For their boy sons
Who need presence
Who stomach absence
Fathers who want to be home enough but are not home enough,
in the evenings
Fathers who
have to make a conscious
decision: succeed or fail
Who bought mufflers so
Their girl daughters and
Boy sons could done jackets
Who freeze
So their families wouldn't get a frostbite
Fathers who stopped everything
To give everything
Fathers who lost to gain
Fathers who cry
Fathers who return
No words spoken
everything said
Fathers who did not return, physically,
but were received
Folded flags,
Where no words were spoken
but everything was said
Fathers
Whose stories have never been told
Yet be told
Fathers who serve
So their girl daughters and
Boy sons could sleep and purr
Fathers who bind broken limbs
Fathers who accomplish one
To be bedevilled by two
Fathers both mom and dad
Who tie ribbons and
Talk to dolls
Who brush out tangles
And buy pads
For their girl daughters
Fathers on five jobs
Who crouch on couches
Fathers who chase demons
Fathers who tell tales
Fathers who switch off lights
Fathers who rise before the sun
Fathers who rise with the sun
Fathers who died
Fathers whom we lost
Fathers new
Fathers old
Fathers everywhere
Fathers whose
Girl daughters changed them
Like Common
Fathers blessed with Riley Curry's
Whose warmth
Whose joy
Whose girl beauties
warm the world
Fathers who have lost fathers
Fathers who never rocked their
Girl daughters and boy sons
A joy they only saw on a scanner
Fathers who had to give up their
Girl daughters and boy sons
Unwillingly
Only to begin to die themselves,
Plant a tree.
(c) Lake Adedamola
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 4:03 PM UTC
I take off these fat layers of sweater,
Wearing my light and thin cotton clothes,
The weight on me is now light,
I feel like a feather,
My smile's getting bright.
There's no need,
Of those heavy gloves and mufflers,
No need of hot coffee in the morning,
No need to be scared of getting cold,
Just be carefree and eat ice-cream,
Drink cold drink,
Let go of winter's hold.
I am finally finding peace and tranquility,
With the winds of March
I freely wear my half sleeves,
Inhaling the air of freedom,
Running on the dry leaves
Of the past, crumbling them,
Forgetting about the gloom of winters,
Because now it's summer.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
In my burb, cool cars are superstars,
They never seem to travel far,
They drive off to the bottle shop,
Head off home, dodging the cops,
Maybe they seek lively young babes,
I think the ho's are giggling away,
Another trip to the bottle shop,
Your fun police, I am not,
I do not care where your mufflers are,
Cool cars here are superstars!
Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 3:21 PM UTC
a pair of headphones with the mufflers missing
the wire that goes from said headphones to the computer
a ceramic pug in a red scarf containing tubes of paint
an ocarina that i picked up in a ghost town/tourist trap in california
a red cup for water during painting
a book called the artist's mentor
an adjustable lamp
wristbands a lover made for me
a book for savannah college of art and design featuring someone holding a large inflatable red ball on the cover
an incomplete abstract painting on canvas paper, slightly crumbled,
a box for the savannah college of art and design VR kit that they sent me
a book on writing
a book about color line and form in the visual arts
a red squishy ball inside a a fishnet containment, creating organic bulbous abscesses when squeezed
a book of poetry with a red cloth on the cover
a small packet of konpeito, a japanese sugar-based hard candy
a novelty necklace designed to resemble christmas lights, complete with glowing LEDs
a red colored pencil
a red marker
a red mechanical pencil
a gigantic anthology of american poetry i have yet to dive into
a packet of cherry jello
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC
——————————————————
midway up the alleyway
among illegal upheaval
urban street backgrounds
swell unfolding into soundscape shapes
for exchanging
cracked mufflers
and
broken English as ingredients
out in this blacktop district melting ***
ramp-up,
cascade,
clatter,
and crash
spilling out almost detuned chords of reverberated sustain
into and echo through my window
in an oscillating fling around the ceiling fan
and from there it’s on repeat until dusk begins to loom
Static sizzle begins a final crescendo
And quickly takes its medicinal weakening
inevitable low murmuring enduring
in an almost complimentary gradation
a fading to dark (so you know where we’re at)
Frogs and crickets use their voices
In nocturnal harmony
singing the daylight to rest
while synchronizing intone
all those unforgiven and withdrawn souls
can take a new step forward
walking in stride with carefree invisibility
beneath a scattershot of luminaries
that constellate a shadowy veil
draped over town
My town
and Your town
and across
in a floating waft
Dispatched via the calm blue astral spheric hue
from a lunar dome
Or
cosmic citadel
represent
Represent
REPRESENTING
for all our collective
Grandmother Astral-sphere
————-————-————-————-
Sep 23, 2020
Sep 23, 2020 at 11:45 PM UTC