"nutcracker" poems
who lit the candles
placed so eloquently
behind purple rock?
that sculpted radiance
and chapel grace
wound in a chosen
defined way
down the spiral
stone stairs
street cars dawdle
alongside
the packer slew
biding merchants
shuffle their wares
as the front man
and pock face
sing their sullen
holy blues
cut jazz echoes
over the accompanying
gabble and drone
incense and haze
pour from
a lower trap door
sack fish, truffles
and splendid crafts shine
inside the stained glass fronts
a wide mouth snapper
with a bloated tongue
greets the
morning tide
(not camera shy
in the least!)
the fish traps
and beaneries
bring life
to the flourishing causeway
hula hoops
and circle ballers
join the
cobaine stage
favoured rogues
and mac jacks
speak easy
of the big daddy
beth’s triple by pass
taking firm hold on
tricky ****
and the nutcracker
maze ways,
taggers and
lost tunnels
of cu chi
strike a
nerving blow
a poised finger man
belts out his tune
(with a sniff sock
and iterating glare)
his nosey neighbors
cut artisan bread
(with a white wine
and jelly spread)
midwives push forward
for an afternoon
toddle and stroll
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 11:12 AM UTC
I feel my outsides crack.
"Please-" I beg. "I take it back."
A set of white teeth glisten.
Bad words, mad words, I still listen.
With your fingers you paint me purple and blue.
Each spot a slightly different hue.
Then in front of others I wear a mask.
"I'm clumsy" - I tell those who ask.
You are all bark- yet you bite.
I shiver in fright.
You tell me I'm small.
What am I to you, a nut?
Mr. Nutcracker.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 3:17 PM UTC
I
The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And the Nutcrackers said, 'Don't you wish we were able
'Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
'Must we drag on this stupid existence for ever,
'So idle so weary, so full of remorse,--
'While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
'Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?
II
'Don't you think we could ride without being instructed?
'Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur?
'Our legs are so long, and so aptly constructed,
'I'm sure that an accident could not occur.
'Let us all of a sudden hop down from the table,
'And hustle downstairs, and each jump on a horse!
'Shall we try? Shall we go! Do you think we are able?'
The Sugar-tongs answered distinctly,'Of course!'
III
So down the long staircase they hopped in a minute,
The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said 'crack!'
The stable was open, the horses were in it;
Each took out a pony, and jumped on his back.
The Cat in a fright scrambled out of the doorway,
The Mice tumbled out of a bundle of hay,
The brown and white Rats, and the black ones from Norway,
Screamed out, 'They are taking the horses away!'
IV
The whole of the household was filled with amazement,
The Cups and the Saucers danced madly about,
The Plates and the Dishes looked out of the casement,
The Saltcellar stood on his head with a shout,
The Spoons with a clatter looked out of the lattice,
The Mustard-pot climbed up the Gooseberry Pies,
The Soup-ladle peeped through a heap of Veal Patties,
And squeaked with a ladle-like scream of surprise.
V
The Frying-pan said, 'It's an awful delusion!'
The Tea-kettle hissed and grew black in the face;
And they all rushed downstairs in the wildest confusion,
To see the great Nutcracker-Sugar-tong race.
And out of the stable, with screamings and laughter,
(Their ponies were cream-coloured, speckled with brown,)
The Nutcrackers first, and the Sugar-tongs after,
Rode all round the yard, and then all round the town.
VI
They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
They faded away.--And they never came back!
4.4k
I was watching the
Nutcracker,
stage drinking blue
The violins
pizzicato,
pizzicato
the wood sprung floor
breathing with the knock
of ballet shoes
I was watching the
Nutcracker,
sitting in the
mezzanine,
Mezzanine
the red kiss of
cherry wood and
green,
I live in
the mezzanine
I was watching the
Nutcracker,
peering into the
pit,
a small gap in the
stage floor where
I could see your
wrist,
holding your bow,
swaying your
bow,
pushing back and forth making my
carpal tunnel
ache, oh your
bow
I was watching the
Nutcracker
and you were playing
the score
Tchaikovsky
Tchaikovsky
beneath the
stage floor
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
Its funny, as I am sitting here in the back of the auditorium, listening to all my friends on stage. The song is The Nutcracker, and suddenly it all comes back. As the bass thrums in my ear and the trupet blares loudly across the audience, I remember those winter day where She would take me to The Nutcracker. Two young girls in tow, She would cart us around, another venue every year. It was grand, the high light of my season. I could watch women with long limber legs and men in their toy soilder costumes, prance gracfully across the stage in time with th music. As I sat in that darkened auditorium it all came back to me. She used to take me to see this, to listen to this music. I had the urge to laugh madly, and cry out in anguish. Its a funny thing how precious things become long after they have ended. When the memory still stands while the erson fades. In that darkened auditorium I felt a pang of sickening nostaligia and longing. For She is dead and I am still here, and now I have no one to take me to the Nutcracker
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:46 PM UTC
Black & Yellow
– for Wiz Khalifa ✌
*“Stay high like I’m supposed to do, that crown
underneath them clouds, can’t get close to you.”*
On the first day, he was pushed.
Robust in stance, the other forced,
this boy down the marble stairs
of the Catholic church, the school
renovated the Summer before
Khalifa began his studies,
in junior high.
The ballet was his passion,
Latin was the language that so
fluently was spoken from
his lips. The Professor smiled,
another victory accomplished.
Khalifa’s mom was so proud of
her blue eyed boy.
Rapped in a ball, he waited
for all students & halls to clear.
Rolled over, picked himself up
took to the washroom, knowing
he needed to be presentable
for his mom stood at the school gate,
brimming with pride.
All of his dreams, mystical.
Don Quixote & The Nutcracker,
fluid streams of poetry;
Elliot, Poe, Wilde. The love
letters of Ludwig van Beethoven.
Born to dance all Principal roles,
a lovers’ prose.
By four, he was ready to
leave school. Tentatively walking,
no predators in sight, out
the main door. Leaving behind
a haunting first day. Listening to
Tchaikovsky; his release, his home,
his saving grace.
© Sia Jane
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
A hard nut once
asked him to crack her,
ambiguous might be the result
yet he was pleased
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 4:25 AM UTC
i love the fact that most people
rather enter the concept
of karma rather dialectics
to argue their point - makes
emily austen seem like a nutcracker
of ideas to come from
ikea as the self-assembled semi-detached
heights, otherwise known as wuthering, heights
or the disco-ball done in mahoganny eyed splinter
shine - sheens the spot!
it's just so ****** blocked nose rotten,
the opposite of polite society,
a bit like the middle-ages... reigning
paranoia imported from a lost colony,
library cards of blue indian peasants
turned into pheasants that did the cancan dance
all of a sudden... miracles christ couldn't even forsee!
i'm free every saturday if you're hashtag up-for-it...
never mind... i'll leave my quote and oil my phone-number
for a missing mobile telepathic nuance on
when differentiating blue indians with garam masala
and red indians with mohawks - easiest game of all:
snakes & ladders, noughts & crosses... garam masala & mohawks.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
I do not wear dresses very often
so every dress I've ever owned
is still hanging
in order
in my closet.
The first,
whimsical and red
a crimson corduroy triangle
green ribbon
yellow flowers
it was for the first day of preschool
but it was also for every other day
whimsical and red
The second:
Nutcracker pink
for days in San fransisco
when the matching coat
was necessary.
I used to dance.
Nutcracker pink.
The third:
Barefoot lavender
not the color, the scent.
Blue and french
avec des fleures jaunes.
we caught fish with brie cheese
Barefoot lavendar.
The fourth:
Navy blue didn't match
but we sewed the straps anyway
i made the first mistake
you forgave me for that one
thank you
Navy blue didn't match
The Fifth:
White Surrender.
sprinkled with turquoise
I surrendered
I didn't have to
I didn't want to
I'm sorry.
I don't usually wear dresses
I hope you still realize that.
White Surrender.
Whimsical, Red
Nutcracker Pink,
Barefoot Lavender,
Navy Blue,
White,
surrender.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
I bought a real nutcracker today.
A fine shiny black truly cool looking one!
Each crack compliments to a dandy vintage lad's imaginary home TV shopper Ad.
Saying‘It's guaranteed! Hundred percent of mechanosensory reception!’
I try to convince myself between time stretching
‘Yes or No’s and ‘Just use stones’
‘Come on you've deserved it!’
‘Why bother?’
You have been craving for each
Tried and tested any,
same as so many
even from a hard peach.
So why not!? Keep it! – as if a testimony, from tough to juicy mimicking fruity blending **** seduced by crunchy mouth twisting *****
Digested from special yearly events to monthly justifications then weekly to daily and surprisingly after dinner, before breakfast, as brunch or even a whole meal sometimes.
You gnaw like a small rodent layer by layer cute but so tight although he says that’s alright.
Dashing trunks as if a woodpecker,
Stealing home reserved only-for-the-pet’s crumbs and
Finally receiving next day’s well deserved belly cramps.
Come on you almost broke your teeth during your worldwide exploring different types of shell husking trip.
Feel blessed now one time for goddess’ sake that she winks and tweaks my lips while it creaks, festively announces your recent find that nuts you shall eat raw only - neither baked nor from a sinfully roasted ready packed plastic bag.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
From my nose,
my lips and eyes–,
strings.
I’m attached to
white.
There’s a nutcracker
in my throat.
I squirm,
go down the drain–,
Slime, slime,
and strings.
Its on my legs,
my chin,
in the smell, the air.
I’m attached to home,
to the lingering
blue
of my favorite room.
If ceramic dolls were
bowls,
I’d mark them all.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
They say no matter
How crazy your mother becomes
You're suppose to love her all the same
Yet when your the victim
Intestines scattered across the floors
Testicles torn from your body
Deprived of manhood
You look at her and simply think
"I'm a victim to your insanity"
You contemplate the vengeance
Venture forth on a Vendetta
For the safety of huMANity
Because who knows how many
Nuts she will crack
She's the Nutcracker from a horror film
Many nut shells left in her wake
Unfortunately we are all victims
To somebody's insanity
Whether it be our own
Or our manhood depriving mother
In the end you still have to grow a pair
To survive any kind of insanity
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
If I had them
You'd crack them.
Alas, I do not.
Good riddance, and
Good-bye.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
at two a.m., i like to listen to one of my playlists and dance & spin to it
resulting into yet another sleepless night with drunken thoughts
it's inevitable, anyway; this is the best hour to be true with the moon
so i scribble down these wasted words and happen to find myself with the idea of you (again)
and it's terribly upsetting to know that the only thing my lips are capable of caressing is nothing but this glass of red wine
the last thing i knew, it wasn't the playlist that was making me dance like john travolta, or spin like barbie from the nutcracker— it was you
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
Hid behind curtains in fear , hard to take a second glance, my arch nemesis waited at the end table , reflecting light from the space heater
guarding nick- nacks , pictures , Bible and other what -nots , outside
to a frigid November with stair stepping Georgia Pines , frost in battle with the early morning sun , Mama Kuhn is calling for her missing , frightened great grandson !
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
That American bandana in my closet?
I stole that.
Her mom liked me and let me borrow it for our fourth of July party,
and when we were giving our stuff back I forgot it was in my room.
Then I saw it and decided, this is mine now
I don’t think I’ve worn it since.
In the eyes of the law we call this an “adverse possession”
the intent to own and keep something that isn’t yours.
I know she’d roll her eyes if she saw me putting our relationship into legalese.
That stormtrooper nutcracker?
That was a gift,
a Birthday gift,
an April Birthday gift.
Who the hell gives a Christmas present as a birthday gift?
She did.
I kept it.
And with gifts there is no “consideration”
which to lawyers means a bargain or exchange of promises,
a gift is a “I love you and want you to have this
because I like to make you happy.
But also, if we end I want you to look at this for the rest of your life
and wonder what would have happened
if we could have survived that last fight?”
You don’t get to bargain for that, you get the gift and the grief.
and she gets to know that you’re going to miss her every day.
Sometimes I wonder who the lawyer really is.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
Hey there old friend
let's startover again
Things have been said
Things have been read
I know I've said I hate you
That was a bad thing to do
And I know you don't care
so like...
Whatever right
We both believed the others lies
Neither one was originally untrue
I don't know cause I'm not you
But... did your heart break too
Ohh-oh-ohh I don't know
I don't care
I just don't know what to do
I really want to forgive you
But I don't want to leave the past behind
What the hell, what the hell
is wrong with me
Cause I know you see it
Or maybe you don't
I don't know
But I really hope you won't
Find out why
I...
I can't seem to make up my mind
Can't help but tell the truth
I can't decide how to feel about you
Just like an angel I've fallen from grace
but the lies that we told are just all over the place
What the hell, yeah what the hell
Why did you follow me when I fell
Now what the hell is wrong with me
I still don't know so just let me be alone
But I still want you here
So just go away
I can't make up my mind
Please I want you to stay
I want to forget what you look like
Let me take your picture so I'll never forget your face
I can't stand your voice now
Can you record a song for me
I'll never know where we went wrong
But the memory of it is still fresh in my brain
I hate that you lied
But I love how you told the truth
You messed with me and can't forgive that
But I can forgive you
Except I don't
and yet I really do
I can't tell you how much I hate you
but maybe that's because I don't
So please get out of my life
And promise to talk to me everyday
Don't I know
how do I feel
feel how I do
I
Don't
Know
Unless I...
Dog Ostrich Nutcracker Turtle Radical Elephant Antelope Lion Lemonade Yak Western Asp Nocturnal Tick Tock Old Frog Octagon Rail Glitch Everywhere Totally Article Bonfire Ogre Utter Tech Yodel Obtuse Umbra Yea Ectoplasm Tome
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
you know what undermines most urban coolios?
you know what undermines the majority of urban hippies?
imitations - clones - we might wear the same sneakers
but at least we think different - we think different, aye-right?
we do, don't we? we don't?! ah ****
but that's what undermines the urban crew - (ha ha, i love
the impromptu slang) - they work their ***** off
and tease their ***** off with twerks -
and then they package hamburgers
with a squeeeeeeezes of the ol' Nutcracker -
but in London so many harvesters -
so many - coolio did fabric off of
Bacon?! **** straight he did -
bring back 1990's bling boo ya ah
ICE CUBE FACE 'N' A PUFFER FISH (MINUS THE LIP) -
like ghetto 1994 - yo yo - ice ice baby -
white man on the Michael - leisure,
leisure, leisure leisure - lacerations and a Las Vegas
weekend - bro got smoked -
and mm hmm - fixed up my pauper rich-man
Porsche - called a dachshund Lamborghini gallop
buckling a dentist's appointment; fuck's sake
buck tooth, drop a gear!
n'ah n'ah n'ah n'ah (lost count) - hmm stirrup song
evened vogue - puck'ah poo or as i shoo
the airs under the carpet with an audience of one.
but believe me, countryside boy says it -
the cool individuals meeting a clone or a mirror
outside their thought experiment and
panic sets in... just another countryside boy
in an urban environment fiddling with a violin
like he might be shining a pair of black leather shoes.
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 10:41 PM UTC
I went Christmas decoration shopping with a friend the other day
I couldn’t decide on a tree
Or any type of ribbon
I don’t have the space for it
But I wanted the spirit
We went to a different store
The pressure was on
My friend was waiting for me to pick something
After all this was my idea
There were a bunch of nutcrackers on display
Soldiers of giant wooden jaws
And glittered capes
Some of light and dark skin
I stared at one enough until I liked it
It had a chip on its nose
My friend quickly found another like it
It was normal, no chip
I looked at both
I took the one with the chipped nose home
Later in the night
The day ran through me
Like a movie
With no sound
No plot
No pulse
Just movement
No lips
No tongue
My face broken
I bared no teeth to
Ward off such bad spirits
Another day where time
Had no currency
I had so much of it
But it was buying me nothing
Just a feeble, muted sentinel
Of impossible peace
How do dreams come alive
when the duel is against me
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 1:47 AM UTC
well, the Oedipal resurrection is a real
chestnut, what a spectrum!
at one end Edward Gein (the acid)
via 7 of pH scaling
and at the other Kaiser Wilhelm (the alkali),
and all those madmen in between,
what traffic! well, someone has to be sick
for someone else to earn wages, ha ha!
testicles in Tchaikovsky's nutcracker,
enter Santa Clause in soprano singing:
** ** ** that's what happens with Oedipus
resurrected, why not resurrect Hercules?
you sick or something? they rather resurrect
Oedipus than Christ to create the Antichrist...
the sickness spreads.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
Silver Angels, with golden wings, * *
* wrapped in tissue, with other things. * *
Stockings, hand knit, by my Grandmother,
* * folded neatly away, one atop the other.
*
Favorite ornaments, growing old and brittle, * *
that were hung, each year, when I was little. * *
A faded Nutcracker, that by the door, stood guard.
* * A lighted Santa, that would always grace our yard.
*
All, left alone, in the attic this year. * *
To look upon them, only brings dry tears. * *
The very act, just...takes away my breath.
* * There is no joy. In fact, there's nothing left.
*
There will be no twinkle lights on the mantle. * *
No evergreens, fragrant and ornamental. * *
The radio will be silent, the baking oven cold.
* * No Holiday spirit, in my heart can I hold.
*
Just this deep, defeated feel. * *
A sadness that invaded, refusing to heal. * *
Grandchildren will call, their excitement clear.
* * In their hearts, they hold the Holiday cheer.
*
I'll have my mask, firmly in place. * *
I'll answer and question them all, with false grace. * *
Then as I hang up the phone on the wall,
* * I'll turn away, as though nothing happened at all.
*
Seeing these things, listed here, in print. * *
Just leaves me numb. No emotions were spent. * *
So, I will continue, in this life that I live.
* * Like a dried Christmas tree, with nothing left to give.
*
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 6:20 PM UTC
a peaceful click tapped on his shoe
as he strode tippy toes out of the blue
his stern face was burnished with shine and glow
yet mr. nutcracker still clanked up at do
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 6:48 AM UTC
Once again I find
the morning light breaks through
my eyes and wakes this sleeping mind,
it seems the dreams will have to wait
or shall I not cooperate?
Tschaikovsky Tuesday
is a nutcracker
I try to be PC
but it still breaks my *****
When I get there
if I get there
I'll send a postcard
or a telegram
I need no internet
and informative technology
is not the thing
I want to be
or see
when I get there.
Good morning Mendelssohn
'tis not midsummer nor is it night,
dream on.
Suspended on my eyelashes
each moment flashes to
briefly burn
all things cease and here
on the plateau
I find again the stillness
wherein lies the peace.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
Tiny Nutcracker
Back into the box with you
Until next year - sleep.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:17 PM UTC
I am 20 1st Avenue
Just as I am also St. Albans Drive
Old Stamford Road
Whitney Avenue
and a little Albermarle
But 20 1st Avenue is where I learned
How to make snow forts, big ones
and pillow forts that filled a living room
It's where I saw that if you plant a little tree
and hang around long enough
that you will have a great big tree
that drops black walnuts
So that you can caution your kids kids
that the walnuts can turn your skin black if you're not careful
It's where I learned what a Woolworths was
and that they sold plastic army men
with mortars, radios and M16s
by the bag for a dollar
nobody wanted the mortar or radio guy
Its where I learned what a honest to God toy store was
and because of that,
who Mr. Potato Head was.
It's where I learned about nuts
still in shells
and how to open them
with a crank nutcracker
or a little hammer
and how to get the meat out
with a lobster pick.
But most of all I learned
what a grandma was
that old people could be great fun
that they knew cool stuff
that they might allow you to do things your parents wouldn't
and that they could keep secrets
then finally
that they weren't forever
but their shadows in your life
were.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC