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Robin Carretti May 2018
So grace me through
my colors
Let's Start

God Grace me

Someone was smart
To raise me
But the blaze
came and love
pursued me
He pushed me
Into his hot blaze

His ***** of fire
A big part of the script
Another lift in his
desire
But my lips
Got raised up
But couldn't.sustain
the fire
The glossy shimmer
Sky hug
He Aint nothing but
a hound dog goodbye
Raised me Orange
Red Robin fly

But how you
face me
Never to
disgrace me

You pick me up with
all my goods
Odds with the bad
Honorable Gods
And so many facets
of my moods
Watch out!!
Starburst

Or a war curse

We  evaporate
In fragments

Orange segments
Sliced and eaten

Love forbidden fruit
One hidden

Embrace the warm solitude

all over your face,
Someone is rude
Fresh Orange
told you
It's Fate

That brought us
together
Orange juicier sun

So many love forms
Whose terms? Just run
This world full of
germs
But to juice things up


How the colors of your
eyes came to an epical stop

But nursed me
orange juice hip hop

He dazed into me
After-life
They named her
Saucy before-life
See ablaze
orange zest
See me and fly me
At my very best

My breast was
so nicely raised


Lips so fruitful
he cannot
resist you know
the rest??

In the mix of orange
things
Pink rings
Butterfly eyes
winged

Was set so privately-----*

The red tail hawk
Was the talk of the 
 Orangey words flowy
Popsicle poppy eye town
No time to refresh
my colors

Free bird orange up
The ramp no lady
and tramps
Just (Gypsies Orange Vamp)
The rocks fall to thump
Trump orange fixtures
Towers Forestal Gump

The soothing smile of lights
He came to you pop features
All over my place
So cultural to the race
The colors of
Orange mellow
oh! no
Here comes yellow----

Creaming into his
creamsicle
Gelato
popsicle
My feeling divided
like politics

Been sliced by
the orange Super bowl
Erotics
Sunny California Kist
Rodeo drive what a
list
Satanic red
Orange Christ
But that orange
She Shh_ sheets
Had the most vibrant
juicy beats
Tomato vines Rome
Lend me your orange
No ears no other
color of tears

Villians of vineyards
Orange bowl of fruit
No Junkyards
The owl started to hoot
Towards the bad apple

My heart was galloping
Shrimp and scallop
Right in my western charm
boot he takes off

Another mix of paint
Orange isn't carrots and
pumpkins
Austin Power Mini-me
Munchkins

Or goblins spooked
Mandarin Orange lovely
Divinely licked
Gingerly lovely Cayenne
Sweet Pepper he looked at her
Lucky 7 Orange ring karat

Whats up Doc
_


Any cracks of his cravat
Orange Key-West lock
Doesn't turn get off
my block
I am going to
Bangkok
With Chuck

Having Orange Tang
He was holding me
777 karat ring
The  Mediterranian
party
Why so dead sea
Pink Smarty
Orange blosson tea
Orange Marquis
Louis and Diamonds
All clockwork
Orange movies

In the lounge of
Raymonds of ring
junkies
Pour OJ for me
**** a doodle doo

Flash of orange came at me
Do you want to?

The operation of heartless
surgery
The Showstopper emergency
Revived refreshing lady
of purity but no orange
The
((Orange Marquis))
Off to see the Wizardly
Orange field gorgeous
WC fields raise

Writer with the
lucky pen praise
Her editor was
the perfect color
ten

Miss coralline with
her coral rock
The mixed infusion

Next color comes up
Raise your brow reaction

Needing a follow-up

Orange rinds
Another call-up
Giddy Apps up
Orange glittering
passion fruit
paintbrush
Soap Opera beauty
and the beast
Another gulp the
pulp pretty in pink
psst
_

Orange-pink tropical
girl orange whirl
The orange-red ringlets
She curled inside him
Glass raise you cup trim
In your villa stucco orange
You were breastfeeding
his orange suited juice

No time to see another
color
Orangey wiz showbiz
Arabian sky sunset
burnt orange
The caramel bump
of the camel
Her favorite one
mural

Lips of tang so foreign
She is flaming like a
flamingo bed

Get his color out of
Cotton picking head
Your shampoo
The
"Orange Oddysey"

Hey, what do you say?

Just open your
eyeshadows
He shadows her in

Or a site for sore eyes got
puffy war of
orange bubbles begin

Feather me
orange wings
The fringe orange
suede
flops
you happy

The A+ diet of fruit
he was the
hotshot
Glass
You're at the
bake me
What do you know
he passed

The spa refreshing
orange peel
mystique

Long lace-lit
Unique
He was coming on too
bossy orangey burst
cheeks were falling
Rise up not down
Orange Julius raise
his price
Fed Ex orange truck
got closer to
Her alluring butterfly
Orange U glad
To catch her
To court her
Fast Orange perfume
She Sha shala
femme
Orange flames came
from his cleft

Still no time for your
spouse whoa he left
_

Now please let me know

what I left out
Orange you glad

this is the only color love
him madly
Orange so vibrant masterpiece the butterfly changes
like a wedding centerpiece
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
1- MOUTH*ME Ordering
Impress-me_Orange only
Surprise me
_
Lounge-Pop-solo
to believe in me orange wings halo
He's the Popsicle Text$$$He

She is acting like the
baby grand piano
Plays the "Clockwork Orange"
spoiled her
orange cycle pours
out liqueur
Top hat seating he better do quicker
who will be doing the ordering?

The orange smiling the whole world
Is hanging up their coats in the
Rainbow room honey orange glaze
She got her scholarship
drinks just float

Somewhere being checked off
Like an orange popsicle licked off
All fragments "Creme Brulee'
in orange segments
Look at him with the
big portion
 
The check your paying now
you can leave my dream
Titanic ship or the internship

Orange plaid vibrant tablecloths
Lips so tangy nothing
fancy love and honor
Her pooch too smoochy 
Orangey oceans drizzle me touchy
Touch her vibrant lips
she screams
More orange with
good principle
So delectable how his mouth
On the radio air
She lets out to
much air
Her orange peel wedge
Bits and pieces profitable pledge
Orange-grapefruit perfumes
with vanilla cream
She Pops in and he bursts out
To trust her dream you better react
To see her colors
The Ambrosial Business
lady proposal good
American dollar

Pick me I am pungent her gloss
is a big plus
She’s all business cool
vibrant boss

Orange Julius Caesar shower
Exotic oils of orange petal me
What delicacy for the
Gods orange lounge
piece de resistance the
New Orange with persistence.
spiritual love romance
her wicked stance

2.
Her Face ASTRINGENT
SOoothing Vibrant

Her lips juicy gossip
Her juicy lips to burst for
He’s the “Orange Julius Sunshine”

3. Delectable--__ Save me Savory
Finger lakes he gives me
the finger foods

Creamy outnumbered orange
fudge you be
My Popsicle Judge


Oranges segments pancakes to
boost your energy
Underestimate her she will orange
  test your fate don't be late
That well suited Italian Gelato
His eyes like popsicle love
signs her lips orange designed
So well to deliver
Dances of touches pulp fiction river
a burst of Godly Orange sunsets
We all love the change
like an experiment

(No Nuns) wearing orange ruler sticks
Let's flag them down in my convent

The men of Citrus Avanti umm
Refreshing popsicle his dimples
the Ground of Sculptures
The melted like milkshakes
Don't use the John
pulp fiction.

4. SPECTRUM OF COLORS ORANGE

Orange vibrant she screams she could
knock anyone out of her burst dream
The orange starter hard pulp
orange lip gloss what delicacy
piece de resistance the
New Orange with persistence.
Her nails in polka dots
Orange

Firey Islander Exotic hottie
orange lip gloss she looks good
over him
Orange slices love triangles
How the women start to mingle they
love being single their orange
fashionable 27-anniversary good luck
orange you glad I got them
dresses he could eat her up
like a 69 flavor sherbet
how she melts
Orange juice me anytime
how does it pour?
Going on an exotic taste tour
Orange Emerald City

Vivacious so vibrant she
stands out her
smells intoxicating again
Orange mating Vitamin C
The sun craving
Like clockwork her masterpiece
of fragrance a burst of her heart
orange smoothie
wildly orange scent how he
was summoned
onto her with vibrant
words of comments
A burst of the eclipse will be coming
Longevity how he lifts her gravity.

More Vitamin C Orange is all me.
How you can use your intuition
to create miracles in life

Orange moods of shades and peoples personalities all come with
technologies the orange way of thinking isn't it soothing and refreshing like a burst of orange sunshine
Riley Finnegan Jun 2013
I want all of you
I want your messy morning hair
Your sleepy smiles
Your tired eyes
Your sloppy kisses
I want to wake up with your arms around me
I want to wake up warm from your body heat
I want all of you
I want your soft pajama pants
I want your smell on my linen sheets
Your hand in mine
Your soft touch
Your anxieties and tangled thoughts.
I want to get up with you
I want your toothpaste lips
I want to watch you while you pick out your clothes
I want to watch you as you get ready
I want all of you.
I want your scrambled eggs in my tummy
Your freshly squeezed orange juice on my table
Your hum in my kitchen while you cook
Your silly morning things
I want a whole bunch of magnetic poetry words on our fridge
I want to see the silly things you put together
I want to see all the lovey things you wrote
I want all of you
I want to curl up with you
I want to lay by the fire
I want to paint our minds on the walls
I want all of you
Your warm kisses
Your fingers
Your skin so smooth
I want your passion
Your skin running against mine
Your fingers roaming
Your lips tracing
Your mind yearning
Your heart racing
Your exaggerated breaths
I want to be with you
I want to do things and know your mine
I want you to tell me everyday how much you need me, in person
I want to lay with you and watch movies all day
I want to lay under warm blankets and drink cocoa
I want to feel you touch me
I want to feel our two souls becoming one, our hearts beating in rhythm
I want to go on adventures
I want all of you
Your curiosities
Your wonders
Your fascinations
Your skills
I want to discover every inch of you
I want to conquer amazing things with you.
I want to hold your hand every day while we drive
I want to kiss you in the rain while we stop to watch it fall
I want all of you
Your ways of making me smile
Your ways of comforting me
Your beautiful eyes and your beautiful words
I want to shop with you
Picking out our favorite foods
Dancing through the isles
I want all of you
The way you pick out soaps
The way you push the cart
The way you gently place sodas to keep them from fizzing
The way you hand the cashier money
The way you politely give her a smile and make small talk
I want to spend every second with you by my side.
I want all of you
I want the way you sing to music in the car
Your walks
Your jumps
Your skips
Your hops
I want to dance with you at random times
I want to know that you care about me
I want all of you
The way you stick up for me
The way you do what I want
The way you're always there.
I want to go home and catch you staring at me while I'm sitting in our chair reading
I want to feel you kiss me randomly
I want to feel you lean against me
I want to know that I'll never lose you.
I want all of you.
The way you look when your scared
Your nerves
Your happiness
Your shakes
Your ponders
I want to garden with you.
I want to rake and **** with you
I want to watch you work and wonder how you became mine
The way you tenderly water plants
The way you pull weeds right from the roots
I want all of you
Your ***** hands
Your sweaty pores
Your delicious produce
Your never ending breaths
Your sunburnt nose
I want all of you
I want to cook dinner with you
I want to sit outside listening to crickets while I watch you grill
I want to talk to you when you chop vegetables
I want to set the table for two
I want to light candles and turn on music
I want all of you
The way you tenderly mix foods
Your ways of buttering breads
The condensation on your water glass
Your fork clinking
Your way of  making me laugh
The way you talk about your day even if I was there
I want to clean up with you
Washing dishes with your hands on my hips
I want to wipe the table and look at you
I want you to be my encouragement
I want to go for a drive to the beach
I want to hold your hand as we watch the sunset
I want all of you
Your glistening eyes in the sun
Your breath as you talk closely to me
Your giggles
Your frustrations
I want to put my feet in the water and feel you follow me
I want to wave goodbye to the sun, knowing it wouldn't matter if it came back or not, because I'd have you.
I want to listen to seagulls with you
I want you to tell me stories
I want all of you
Your creativity
Your needs
Your wants
Your pleasures
I want you to build a sand castle with me when the orangey glow of the sun is still around.
I want to go get ice cream with you
I want all of you
Your ice cream on your face
Your napkin hands
Your chilly tongue
I want to go home and do laundry with you
I want your way of separating darks from lights
Your clothes intermixed with mine
Your socks
Your detergent
Your breaths as you pick up socks
The way your fingers seem to dance as you fold clothes
I want to fall asleep with you
I want to crawl into the same bed as you
I want to lay on your chest
I want you to play with my hair and sing me sweet words
I want you, all of you
Your heart beating in my ear
Your closeness
Your hands tracing my bare skin
I want to kiss you before falling asleep.
I want to know you're right there with me
I want to trace hearts on your skin
I want to share cold feet and fluffy feather blankets
I want all of you
Your dreams
Your snores
Your beautiful eyelids
Your limp muscles
Your head soft on my pillow
I want all of you.
I don't just want you, I need you.
Theresa M Rose Oct 2015
The Midnight Dawn: The ship begins to dock.
A woman stands, looking down, silently. Black waters swirl salty white foam; Icy waters move through flapping rudders; The sounds of shifting motors pound; This is a beckoning scene for one in feelings of immersing self-isolation; And, Lora stands at this very edge. Lora stands completely unaware of the true beauty that surrounds her at this very moment.
         The ship’s docking, at Dearing's port, in the Kotzebue Sound... Alaska's pre-dawn dark blue skies with it’s tawny orangey gray clouds; A  panoramic view of white snowy peak mountains surrounds the port. And yet, the only thing Lora has on her mind … is a small Inuit village that will soon make her isolation complete.

    Out onto the deck Jeff calls, "Lora!"

Lora turns towards her husband's voice; But then, turns her eyes back to the whirling water over the stern.
  
    "Sweetheart?" Jeff places his hand on Lora’s arm, "I called the shore; The transport will be waiting… as soon as we're finished docking."
Jeff's voice becomes serene.
“ Wow. Lora, I can’t believe it. It’s been eight years since I been home last."
Jeff places his hand on Lora's.
“ It’ll be good for us to be with family. We'll leave the ship before the sunrise and we’ll arrive in the village just in time to see the final day of Tribal Awareness Week. Lora, I wish we were here a couple of weeks ago. I think my mother would have been happier meeting you when she wasn't so busy...."
  
Lora turns…, "You know, Jeff; I do wish you would just shut the hell up!”
Lora pulls her hand away.
“ Please, just keep still until we get up there.”
Her teeth clench.
“ It's another four and a half-hours, to get to  where we need to go. And, quite frankly, I think it's going to be hard enough for me to what needs to be done; And, I’d much rather get through this without having to listen to your mouth all the way up there."

"Alright.", Jeff says in a somber voice.  He turns to walk back inside but then he sees a new flicker of hope.
"Lora, I see the biplane. It's pulling in..; See it? See it, down there, at slip four, on the pier?!” Jeff smile’s pointing to the small transporter; As he does he grabs Lora kissing her cheek. “ I'm go get the porter to help me with our bags and we'll meet you down at the clearing, All right?”
"Fine.” Lora,…with a strain in her throat.
"Fine, let's just get this over with..."

    Lora stands at the clearing;… She watches the ships crew set-up for a day of helping  passengers board and depart the ship.  Jeff arranged for the two of them to leave the ship two hours earlier than everyone else so they could meet up with their connection.
As Jeff and the porter comes down the ramp a man comes down the dock waiving.
“ Jeff!”

    Jeff calls out. "Lora, here comes Gabe!"
“ Gabe! Gabe!”
"Gabe?"
"Honey!? This is my cousin, Gabriel." Jeff says to Lora as they started down the pier to the biplane. “ He runs our local transport."
    Gabe turns towards Lora.
" Yeah, I run everyone from our village up and down the river; Sometimes, I think this little craft here thinks she's just another boat! She so seldom has a chance to be airborne.”
The luggage is placed on board, Jeff and Lora settle into their seats and Gabe starts moving up the sound; Then, after about fifteen moments the little plane begins to lift, up and out, off the water.
  
    Lora becomes startled, "I thought the plane wasn't going to leave… I thought we were not going to be airborne?! I thought we were riding up the river?"
  
"Yes, Lora." Gabe states with a giggle,
"Yes, the Koyukuk River! I'm sorry, I thought Jeff would have told you?! We'll be airborne for just over an hour then we’ll reach the Koyukuk River and then, from that point, we’ll be riding the river for another three hours till we reach the village."

"Oh."
Lora sits back… and begins to stare out at the enormity of the Alaskan skyline. For her, it seems to have no end; And yet, for Lora there seems to be, nothing, nothing at all but endings on her horizon.

    The procession begins...
The parade comes down the main road in the small Inuit village. The local people are all playing drums, jingles and bones and they’re all wearing traditional ceremonial attire.

    Lora starts looking around to find her husband but Jeff is gone. Lora thinks, angrily.
‘ This is so senseless!? Why did Jeff ******* up here? I can't believe this; Here I am at The Koyukon Festival to tell his mother we're divorcing!? His mother never wanted me in his life. He was just suppose to finish his studies and come back home. I'm sure she'll be relieved to see me gone from his life.’

    Jeff comes up behind her, smiling.
"Honey, Honey isn't this wonderful?! I remember my parents and I participating all together in these events when I was small.”
Jeff points down the road. “ Hey Hon, look!" He places his arm on Lora's waistline.

    Lora turns to him with a grimace," Remove that…!"
    Jeff moved his hand and Lora turns to see where Jeff is pointing.
Lora sees, her mother-in-law, PaKaSuk; PaKa begins down the road dressed in her traditional Inuit tribal clothing.
    She has on a headdress made from the skin and skull of a coyote, and there’s a pair of small antlers imbedded on it. And, she has on tall boots made of polar-bear fur that are adorned at the rims with dangling teeth from the hunts of the past.
PaKa sings long mournful notes as she plays a soft singular beat over and over again on a drum-snare of  sealskin and whalebone.
    Jeff waves to his mother; As she sees her son, she begins to call out,


” Come fellow me one and all…;

Come fellow me to the place of the great hall;

Come to hear a tale that must be told;

Come hear the words from the time of old.”

As PaKa reaches the doorway she gestures to Jeff and Lora.
"Please come, sit here near the fireplace."
    As everyone-else  finds seat’s; PaKa kneels down, she looks deep into Lora‘s eyes; She smiles and then hands Lora a small long rectangular box.
Speaking softly, "Lora, please, hold this… But, do not open it right now; Wait until I’m done with my story. I'll return and we will talk."
  
    Lora stares at PaKa thinking…
‘She is an odd woman. To give me a gift? Looking down at the small rectangular box. She makes a huff, ‘ It's probably a brand new pen to sign the divorce papers with. She's probably…; But wait!’
Lora remembers, ‘ Jeff hasn't told her anything about the divorce yet. ‘
Lora places the box on her lap.

    The show begins...
    PaKa hushes the assembly; Cues the drums to play.
    The drums start. It is a slow, low singular beat  beating over and over…; Over and over. beating  slow low beats; Over and over... Again.

    Jeff bends down; He whispers, "Lora, the crowd is so much larger then I ever remembered it being before."
    Just then, a woman comes and sits right next to Lora and the woman has a baby sleeping in her arms.
Lora closes her eye and thinks,…
‘ Oh God… Why couldn’t this woman find somewhere else to sit; Anyplace other than here?’

    "Welcome! I am PaKaSuk...I am the Coyote-woman for my people…, now! But my story is of a Coyote-woman of long ago. Her name,… GaTraRa; The Coyote-woman Who Lost Her Tears.
Come one and all close your eyes. We shall breath deep the air and hear the drums beat…; And, we shall go… into the past.

            GaTraRa became a coyote woman when she was young. Much younger than the old custom....The old Coyote-woman would chose a young girl to replace her and she would teach the girl all of the knowledge  needed to help her people; She would learn all the wisdom of the herbs that cure and when ready she would take place. GaTraRa was chosen… And with great pride and joy of all the tribe.
She had learned much in a small time working at the side of the old Coyote-woman. But, a great sickness came to the people; Nearly half the tribe were lost...
The old coyote woman was lost…  GaTraRa was now The Coyote woman; …without knowing all the wisdom  the old coyote woman needed to give…

    Lora, sits there listening to her mother-in-law; She starts feeling cold beads of sweat against her skin. She starts feeling a slow low ache in the pit of her stomach.
    Jeff looks at Lora, "Are you alright?"
    "Leave me alone!” She swats at him. "Just go away! I'm fine. Leave me to hear this..."

    PaKaSuk continues "By our old traditions the Coyote-woman is not to join with any man; It was said… She’s to care for all the people of the tribe; But…, for GaTraRa;  GaTraRa was highly favored in the eyes of the council, And, especially by the chief elder's son, NeKraRa.
NeKraRa, who wanted the tribes very young new Coyote-woman to be his spoke a plea to the elders; GaTraRa wanted to be his as well. But she knew a Coyote-women was not allowed to join.  GaTraRa was surprised and overjoyed when the elders told her that she and NeKraRa being allowed to be joined...She felt the spirits were pleased.  And, soon after their joining they were blessed...They had conceived a child.
  
    The drums begin sounding faint and far away to Lora. The scent from  the smoke seems to be making her feel hazy.

Lora feels a low dark ache in the pit of her belly; It begins to grow; Her head lowers and her breath begins to labor. The pain is so deep Lora's eyes feel full of heat and she holds-back a feeling to cry out...
  
    PaKaSuk continues…, "It was the time of the hunt!”
  
    Eyes tighten. The pain becomes overwhelming to Lora; From a deep place within … A howling cry cries out!
"AAAAIIIIEEEEE"


    GaTraRa pushes; A baby’s cry fills the room. Her beaming sweaty body falls back onto the bedding.
    "It is a boy! You have a son!” mother-in-law smiles while wiping off the tiny crying new born.
"My child, he is a, strong, healthy boy! And, look, look see how his face shines like dawning light. NeKraRa will be pleased when he returns."

    As her husband's mother places the new born into her waiting arms, GaTraRa thinks ‘ No woman could ever be this happy.’
She looks up and says, "This day is the day of my greatest joy,"
  
Several weeks come and go. It will soon be  time for the men to return

Several weeks come and go without the young men.
The sound of drums call out from the distance; The time  for the return has come at last.
Many come to the Great Hall to greet the men when they arrive. The young Coyote-woman lefts her baby and runs happily to show her husband, NeKraRa, his fine new son.
Looking out, beyond the path, the men could be seen; They look weary of their hunt; Not all who left seems to be coming… The elder  hunters  may be a day or two behind bringing the treasures of their travels ;All the trades made with the outsiders.  The younger men come with the new pelts to cure and with the fresh meat and fish for the smoke.  As the men come closer the young women gain sight of their man; They run to walk with them to the Great Hall. But, but GaTraRa could not find her man. Her husband, NeKraRa, was nowhere among the men.
“ NeKraRa; NeKraRa !“ The young Coyote-woman begins thinking…’ He may be with the elder hunters; But why?’ She calls out several more times “ NeKraRa!”
Grabing at the men as they pass she asks,
"Where is my husband?"
    None of the men would speak to her or even look up at GaTraRa They’d just keep pass by her and enter the tribal council. Leaving her standing there holding her small baby.

    NeKraRa's father comes out of the council hall; He walks to GaTraRa and places his hand upon her arm.
"My child, our NeKraRa met his death over the ice on the very first night of the hunt."
  
    She looks down into the face of her small child.
"That was the night his son was born..."
Softly, sadly she speaks to her sleeping child cradling him in her arms,
"You will hold your father's name, my sweet boy...and his spirit.“
She walks home.

    Her mother-in-law meets her at the door, crying.
In a deep mournful tone, "My child!"
    GaTraRa just stands there with a void look on her face. Then, she looks at her baby. She lifts him up and hands him to her mother-in-law,
"Here mother," in an increasingly laboring tone,
"Here, here is our NeKraRa."

    The next day, mother-in-law waits for the baby to wake. She waits, long…, but there is no cry. She goes to lift him up and to wake him but as she pulls the blanket back she sees the baby's body is still, motionless. The baby is cold, blue and silent,
She lifts him and lets out a long wailing cry, "No...!"
  
GaTraRa runs…, only to see her baby in her mother-in-law's arms; A face full of tears and crying out over and over again, "He's gone...He is gone!"
GaTraRa falls to the floor; She begins to rock, repeating
"No…! No…! No…!"
But yet, now, not a single tear falls from her eyes.
  
Weeks pass since the death of her baby. Her duties as coyote woman become harder for her. Whenever others seek out her help she becomes angry. She says, "The spirits curse me; I went against them with family and now I have nothing; They will allow me no peace!"
All she does is watch the doorways; it is as she is waiting for someone or something...

    The council watches GaTraRa closely. Mother-in-law brings her worries to the elders.
“GaTraRa‘s sadness grows. “
Mother-in-law tells them, “She must be watched. Our Coyote-woman has felt the brush of the Raven’s feathers; Her tears are stuck within… No tears fall.”
Mother-in-law pleas to them, “ Her sorrow grows, silently! I fear, if we do nothing, she will be taken from us as well.”

    The women of the council gather together; They decide to have the grieving ritual for GaTraRa. But, none them has ever done this ritual. This was something the Coyote-woman would do.

    Days pass, the men are preparing to leave for the last hunt of the season. And, the women begin to prepare the council hall. They gather up all the things they could remember from having watched the ritual done times before.
    The chief elder sees the woman; And he asks, “What are you women doing?”
Mother-in-law tells him of what she and the other women have plan.
Shaking his head, “For as far as back as my memory takes me I have never seen a Grieving-Ritual done during this season before; And, without the young men being around. Do you really know what you are doing?”
All the women said, “ We must!”

    The men are gone…

    The women take GaTraRa to the council hall. They place her near the fire. GaTraRa watches as women gather herbs and place them in bowls.
She speaks out, “You don’t know what you are doing!?” Then, her voice saddens.
” …or maybe you do.”

    The women do not listen; Without a word, they begin to place the bowls in all the places they have remembered seeing them before…Recalling, all the men would play drums all night, during the vigil, they each pick up a drum. They gather around the fire. They stand and surround  the fire with their drums; The woman slowly begin to play.
GaTraRa, motionless, looks to the women thinks to herself, ‘Why are they doing this…I did this…to myself. They should not care
As always, I enjoy any and all  feedback you could give me.
Tom Orr Dec 2012
Mosséd trees stand in respect,
a moment of silence.
Still breathing
but stillness dwells.
In amongst the green
a catharsis of orangey-red shades.
The Japanese maple poised,
chest puffed,
arms elegant.
Sight unstirred.
Llahi Fuego Aug 2013
We walked along the ocean for about an hour
Lost in conversation
I suppose it was needed after misunderstandings six months ago
We encountered lots of things on the way
There were mangroves and wet sand, hot coral, dry sand, sea ****, couple dried up sea urchins
A bunch of other ****
Just things the tide had dumped
We stopped for a while to watch the sun
Which was setting, and do you remember how you said
It looked as if, far out on the horizon, this great orangey-yellow ball that was suspended in the sky with invisible ropes
Was slowly being lowered into the ocean, sinking
Never mind me, you said, I’m not making any sense
I understood what you meant, I think, I wanted to kiss you
Waves were breaking, gently crashing into our bare feet
And I noticed this cut on your foot, just a little one,
I think you hadn’t even realised it was there
But I kept quiet, didn’t say ****
And all your toenails were painted blue
And the waves would break over them and slowly retreat,
Leaving your feet wet and toenails glistening,
It was kind of a pretty thing to look at.

I don’t know how to be romantic
I don’t know how to write poetry
All I know
Is that you are a mermaid
And I am drowning,
Will you save me?
Robin Carretti Jan 2019
Orangey so tangy loosely
her words flowery so
rustic fun  ******  
the panic straight
jacket going ginger
snaps her ticket
Pocketful of sunshine
in your pocket

****** the maestro
In the stars of the cosmos

On the edge but earthly
Let's go slow
Did we miss the
whole entire glow
"So Tickle me Pink"
The stardust funds
of the trust
Having a light fuse
The picturesque
Fields so mystique personality
Lights up unique

Your word against mine
In a matter of fact were in
It's your cue waves pull me in

If so the sky does it remain
always blue such a variety
Of cookies no outrageous
Time for Oreos
What's inside its outside
Cleopatra's eyes snap away
Like a masquerade
Don't rain on my parade
Love of Virginia innocently
Love is the drug
insanely

Scrapes on her knees
The western front
Ginger Snaps
Those bottle caps and buzzing
honey bees Tangerine trees
Galavant like General Lee
Ginger the gunslinger
She's the singer
eating Saralees

Whats to boot
But getting closer
To the naked eye
to the surface be wise
"Owl Hoot"
So lovely genuinely
He's husky and ruly
Apps Gingersnaps
Exchanging cat naps

Her lips in higher
states of trips

Trying to get there
Bohemian Rapsody
The Queen of the
economy
Photo editing Unicorn pony
Another brainless wedding
We are the champions
What a snitch like a witch
Bad luck switch the lion's den
Topiary timeless good luck Zen
Loud sirens
Drug trafficker morons
The plastic Surgeons
Backstabber persons

Blue jeans snap taking a
Sniff Shiba Uni howls
To be loved in beauty
My Mom Judy good
earth bounty

Tall and sleek every week
Smells of Ginger
no danger
The earth on her cheeks
Can love be any truer  
Into the Gala the apple
of her eye never goodbye
Sweet baked goods putting food the way love to the end of her fingertips should let go, Ginger, snaps
Viki More Feb 2016
Royal Poinciana, the only bliss in the summer!



The stream swiftly flows,

And the livid wind blows,

As many a red bloom throws.



Royal Poinciana, the crimson bud,

Tender sparkling of the red blood;



Like an orangey blazing flame,

And saffron color in precious gem;



Deeply dyed in the rich glow,

Royal Poinciana, the only hallow.



Oh this shiny summer afternoon makes ill,

Watching Royal Poinciana is a mere will.



Soon ruddy blossom would appeal,

In florid color, my eyes would fill.
Nature, Summer, spring, royal poinciana
Peter Simon Feb 2015
The orangey sun would soon die,
Dipping in the warm open oceans
Black unfeathered birds would fly,
Accompanied with teeth of draconians

The blue sky would be painted black,
And rounded moon would be lighted up
Little suns would start to spark,
With the cricket sounds, abrupt

After 12 rounds of the shorter hand,
The ball of fire will start blazing back
And by the shore, I would stand
Still, wide smiles and plenty laughs I lack
River Jan 2018
Sun
Orangey
Orangey
Orangey
Swimming in the flames
Untamed
Laughing wildly
Take my mind
Take my mind
I have no more time
For a mind
I'm laughing wildly
Being consumed
By flames of ecstacy
Reason bleeding on the barren earth
Aimlessly
Smiles galore laughing
Mouths gaping
Smiles faking
Ripping through this illusion
Transportation to the pure amusement
Laughing like a child lost in delusion
No more confusion
No more confusion
Riding on the carousel
Riding
Riding
Riding
High in to the setting
Orange
Sun.
Zac Walter Nov 2012
When you begin to peel
the orange of strife
you are revealed
a bitter truth
about rebirth of a
sweet, colorly loof
concealed by an orangey shell
trying to show us
sweetness in life
Qwn Apr 2015
You’re like an ocean for you always look calm.
But I know behind it is a ******* fire in town.
A woman who is being idolized by everyone;
For you got your word voiced out even if it’s troublesome sometime.

Your personality is like your favorite seaweed.
Spicy yet it gives something to cherish.
You’re like your favorite ramen noodles.
Mind with worries feels like doodled.

You are the sweetness to my bitterness.
By just your wiggling eyebrows, it causes happiness.
You are the chili to every made kimchi.
Always looks fine even if it’s orangey.

Your mood somehow blends with your favorite colors;
You have adopted the calmness of the blue sky; the balancing aura of gray;
The peacefulness of white; brown’s friendliness in a simple way.
These interesting sides of yours will always be remembered.

You are the sour taste in a homemade sinigang.
The happiness I felt in every chocolate’s bite.
You are the coldness in my ice cream;
That balances the feeling that is in warm.

Your dramas are amazing just like your Korean films.
Those songs I love to hear whenever you start to hymn.
You’re proving enough that there is this thing called forever.
I would miss your cheerful smiles and long your crazy laughter.

© Quenniebells, 2015
Aiden Baker Nov 2012
if i thought there would be enough sunsets

peachy pink baths and twilight friction

then maybe i wouldn’t be frozen now.

if that orangey milk could navigate the twisted time belt

and swallow me in the here and now

maybe it would melt me, maybe it would warm me

maybe i would laugh and see the wonders

of the cosmic radiance.

sunsets, though, are not enough

and hope—

it is an idealogical phantom, as love or fear,

it’s as real as you need—as real as you believe

until you run your fingers through it

and all that’s there

is mist.
Samm Marie Jul 2016
I've dreamt a dream
Where it is only me
In a room full of mirrors
And a single dinosaur
Mirrors are one of my least favorite items
It's full of self loathe
And narcissism
But I was focusing on the dinosaur
Whom I could only see
In the mirrors
But I could see from all angles
However, if I turned and tried
To see him with just my eyes
I'd see nothing but a reflection of myself
Now this dinosaur
Didn't appear very old
But then again
It was a dream
And this dinosaur
Was very cartoony
With big blue eyes
And smooth orangey skin
One tooth was sticking out
And its tail was sort of short
But the dinosaur leaned forward
And whispered in my ear
"This is a room of mirrors
Just for you to see
But as you and I both know
This is just a dream
When you awaken I ask of you this
To look at life like you
Have been looking at me
See it from each angle
But don't turn around to
Try and touch it
Because when you do that
You forget about loving
Don't regret a single thing
Feel no shame
For shame means you can't be loved
It's okay to have guilt
Because you recognize your mistake
Your perspective isn't always right
But that doesn't mean you're always wrong
Look at life as though it were a song
Full of ambiguous meanings
And no real solution
Life is room of mirrors
You can either see only yourself
Or you see new ideas"
That dinosaur scared the sleep out of me
But when I awoke I understood more
The dinosaur was a manifestation
Of subconscious being
Life is a state of mentality
Seeing only yourself and a dinosaur
In a room made up of mirrors
Yet another severely long winded poem
v V v Jan 2018
I saw an old blue jay today
unashamed of his baldness.
His beautiful crown reduced
to wispy sprouts of gray,
every which way
like a patient after chemo.

Beauty cannot exist
without suffering


I saw our rabbit’s kits yesterday,
they looked like little piglets
nestled in her nest of fur and hay,
plump and tender bodies,
tempting feasts for
creatures of the night.

Peace cannot exist
without fear


I saw a hummingbird this morning
and heard her vibrating chirp.
Cautious yet eager she
bobbed and dipped for sustenance
a thousand miles from home
like a prisoner of war.

Home cannot exist
without longing


I see an orangey moon tonight
pierced across the breast by clouds,
in halves instead of whole.
A symbol of the way things are,
a broken world that
few take time to notice.

Consciousness cannot exist
without ignorance


I looked in your eyes just now
and saw love.

Sickness, disease, danger and fear,
loneliness, loss and uncertainty
is, was, and forever will be
washed away in their blue,
at least for me.

Certainty cannot exist
without love


Of this I am certain
Water
under
the bridge,

rolling
and tumbling,

kissing
the river's
edge.

Trees
bend
in the breeze.

The
lonesome
moon
calls out
to the stars.

His *****
strikes
the earth,

overturning
a crawler's
night lunch.

A bottle
of ***
shared
by two

who steer
clear
of the fire's
orangey
fingers.

Fingers
to fry
the catch
under
the night's
sky.
KRS Dec 2012
the orangey flame in front of my eyes
reminds me of youth,
of long summers torched by a raging sun
bright as a candle that was lit at each end
endless nights out ran by insomnia
the dark circles under our eyes became our prizes
tokens and trophies of what was loved and lost and never given up
the dreams and defeats we carried
like white billowing flags held high
by our rag tag band of misfit soldiers
our ever loyal friends.

the melt in your mouth summer air
that dissapated from every pore
and filled both lungs full of life
the light reflecting from girls' long hair
like sparklers fired over a glass lake
on the fourth of july
and the blue ocean waves that crashed and turned
when I looked into his eyes
made me invincible

it was the summer of crazy
the summer of liveliness
the summer where watermelon was king
his seedly servants were spit anywhere
and the only true care was not letting the tank reach E
where driving with the windows down
and your hand out the window
made you fly
untouchable

I inhale then release
breathing out all of these thoughts
it is winter
icy and cold
but here in your car
with my feet up on the dashboard
and the radio chanting a song I once knew
I feel that same feeling of limitlessness
Terry Collett Aug 2013
Miryam walked with you
through Tangiers
miles from the base camp
still feeling tired

from the previous night
after the late evening
on the beach
hugging and kissing

each to each
not going further
that time
back to the tent

(your tent colleague out)
you and she
lay there
almost making out

but then he was back
and she had to leave
mouthing words to you
as she left

behind his back
then the morning ride
to Tangiers
on the back

of the truck
the smell of the city
the aromas
the people

almost Biblical
the snake charmers
the shops in alleys
the kids

trying to sell you
hashish on corners
and she held your hand
clutching her bag

with her other hand
her curly hair
orangey red
and she talking

of bags and clothes
and how back home
there was
so much more

to buy
and her hand
warm in yours
her small thumb

on the back
of your hand rubbing
as she walked
and you felt

and sensed her
and recalled her
a few days back
on the beach posing

for a photo
with a camel
and a Moroccan guy
in that skimpy

bathing suit
( giving the guy
the heat)
and you taking

the photo
with the borrowed camera
and she stopped
in a side street

looking at clothing
beautiful colours  
and this guy
brought out

two cups of mint tea
while she decided
what she wanted  
and you sat there

beside her
smelling her perfume
looking at her hair
and lips

and how she held
the small cup
in her hands
sipping

breathing
talking
her eyes
bright lights

her small **** pushing
against the cloth
of her purple top
and the tightness

of her jeans
on her thighs
and the whole scene
like something

you'd seen
in one of those
coloured pictures
in the Bible

the people passing
some with donkeys
one guy
with a camel loaded

and you watched
her sipping
her hands holding
the fingers curved

about the cup
and she talking
of what to buy
and you drinking

her in
all aspects
with your greedy
all too human eye.
Brad Lambert Sep 2014
The beginning of the end.
Raindrops stoke the fire. Two drops.
Earthquake rumbles out in silent tremors.
I begin to forget why I’m even here.
No renaissance man ever went fishing
alone before dusk or after dawn.
How else would a tree know
if his roots had overgrown?
Gathered around a bonfire
drinking up each other’s thoughts.
Horses neigh from the barn, so thirsty.
Some flames do change and trick us;
Stallions ranging the prairie, all ablaze.
Fall can make green into orangey-reds
or subtle arrangements of browns and grays.
Crisp and so dead, yet with the color of fire too.
And how about that ridge above the tree-line.
Trees all burnt down some forty fires ago,
but you can still see the line. Two trees
standing next to one another. Moon grows.
Stained glass done how the Aztecs would’ve done it.
Clothes made off like a silk worm’s constricting cocoon.
Moths gathered around the source, clamoring for candlelight.
A single leaf lazily dropping in the dead heat of a summer night
frenzied me, got me all pensive from midnight to high noon
wondering what Autumn could possibly bring if I just sit
here on this boulder until the first inch of snow.
Woodpecker knocks on wood, superstitious.
Fall borrows life, lending it to Spring.
Fishing at night, catch then release.

He does empty out some forests,
he does freeze the night lakes over,
he makes deaths out to be gold
and outrageously gorgeous affairs.
Non-morbid is the circling of life.
Birds sent southward in the thousands at his say,
Leaving him to prepare to sap life from the trees– Newly lifeless elder trees.
Always borrowing.    Always borrowing.
I will sit on this stone
and watch the ditch flow.
Memories are the thickest:
Two slices of provolone,
ham and Dijon mustard
on Dakota wheat bread.
Walking along his fence browsing
left to right, north to south like reading a book
or scanning through paintings in a museum.
Knots in wood fences are the same.
He takes a bite, offers me one.
It is Autumn and the trees are turning.
Freshly dewed yearning still beguiles me today.
Crisp and so dead. Fall does change and trick us.
With his eyes green as ivy clinging to brick.
Brown in fading shades making curls
on the leaves. Burning newspaper.
Trees have set this city on fire.
Breath is now seen in the air.
Signal fires light as Winter
makes her way in.
I have only one
question for
Fall.
And here comes autumn once again.
Molly Pendleton Jun 2011
Matted autumn leaves cling
To every surface
The cold concrete streets
The orangey red brick walls
The chipped facade exteriors
Of road lamps much like me
The peeling rusty paint
Dotted by bits of dampened foliage
Little knotted up black things
While road lamps don’t give a ****
I have to pick them off my clammy skin
And then they get under my nails
They are abundant right now
Like all the other frustrations of my daily life
Sneaky little *******
The air is incredibly damp
It’s thick with fog
Carrying with it a familiarly pungent
But ever revolting scent
Of a funky little diner down the street
That makes my freckled nose wrinkle
Reminiscent of the scent of past disgusts
Terry Collett Feb 2013
Early summer
after school
after low tea
of bread and jam

and a glass of milk
you sat with Fay
on the roof
of the pram shed

of Banks House
and looked up
Meadow Row
watching the sun

slowly going down
on the busy horizon
she clothed
in a grey dress

with black plimsolls
and you in fading jeans
and open necked shirt
and she said

my daddy says
I’ve to learn
the Credo in Latin
by the summer holidays

or there’ll be trouble
what the heck’s the Credo?
you asked
looking at the heels

of her plimsolled feet
hitting the wall
of the pram shed
it’s the I Believe prayer

setting out the items
of our beliefs
in the Catholic Church
why Latin?

you said
noticing fading bruises
on her thighs
as the hem

of her dress moved
as she banged her heels
against the wall
because daddy said so

she said
looking
at the orangey sun
in the darkening

blue sky
I don’t know many prayers
you said
at least

not all the way through
except the ones
they teach us
at school

even then
some of the boys
put their own words in
which I couldn’t

repeat to you
she looked at you
her fair hair
adding beauty

to her pale face
and water colour blue
of eyes
best not to

she said softly
don’t your parents
insist you learn prayers?
she asked

no
you said
my old man
wouldn’t know a prayer

if it came up
and tickled his moustache
she smiled
and looked away

then after a few moments
of silence
she said
the sun looks

like a big orange
on a big blue cloth
doesn’t it?
yes

you said
looking skyward
then watched
the traffic pass by

at the end
of Meadow Row
and the bombsite outline
on the right hand side

and the shadows caused
by the lowering sun
then you lowered
your sight

to the fading bruises
on her thighs
and the watercolour blue
of her bright clear eyes.
James Floss Jan 2019
I yam not only orangey
I’m awesomely tightltey whitley
And mostly so correctly

There’s no dirt in my smirk
I believe I’m totally rightly
And you? Are you native bornly?

I was bussed here
And you are from where?
What? Wall? We’re here wrongly?
r Aug 2020
Caged bird set free
but what is she free from?
Security, protection and a helicopter that span above her head...just to make sure.
She’s free from a myriad of ‘where were you!’s and numerous raised words.
She’s free from a yellow orangey pink sunny kind of life.
Now the bubble’s popped.

She only has the yellow orangey pink of a sunset,
that’s where the problems really start.
J M Surgent Dec 2013
Small towns,
Are hidden gems,
Like the place of peace we go
In Leverett, for portraits
Of pretty girls who know nothing
Of buddhist beliefs,
Other than what their friends say
At dorm room parties.
And the mountains are small,
Lining the horizon we watched
As the sun set on them all
And we looked from the trash room
For the best view
Of the orangey hues
That reminded us we were closer
Than we thought after all.
But this school, and these people,
And the way they view the world
Sometimes clouds the hearts
Of the young people inside
-The cage of education we’ve created-
And I can’t help but feel
You were one of them,
And I just want you to see that.
We were never wrong.
Only the politics of the situation,
Singing Western Mass’ song,
“freedom, independence,
Social liberation
From the sense of responsibility,
Confrontation,
We are a free-love
And no-love nation.”
-nmh Oct 2013
the thick humid air
melts into thin nothingness
and the brightly green leaves
that once accented the bright blue sky
fall down and blanket the earth
turning it into an orangey mess
as we wrap up our necks
and let the wind style our hair
we'll overdose on caffeine
and watch scary movies till dawn
leaves will crunch under our boots
and dead blades of grass will slice up our ankles
summer has died
and autumn has been reborn
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2014
little pockets hid inside big pockets,
storage units with keys
purposely misplaced,
envelopes of documents,
labelled, saved for a purpose
that is no longer memorable,
but still instant recognizable

scenes from a marriage
violent hatreds so great,
that years of a single silence
were successes celebrated,
secrets never secreted

the taste of them
from your gorge
can't be easy erased
once the bile comes up,
you can't stomach the notion
of choking it back down

well past
the limits of inane,
voided arguments
left your bowels cleansed
but your mind throbbing pain bombs,
your body
floored in an exhaustive state

the limits of inane,
voided arguments,
left your bowels cleansed
your mind lobbing throbbing pain bombs,
your body
floored in an exhaustive state
and you dd this to yourself,
so no one helps you up

caches of glimpses of video snatches,
trailers of a life woeful misbegotten,
sudden asunder ripped to the fore,
you know you were there,
know you took part,
is that a younger sadder version of you?

the backyard of your brain
where the cache was dirt buried
kicked open foul odor and
well you smell the screaming hatred fights,
and the reel to reel breaks but you see it
anyway in the orangey brown colors of
time decaying, burnt-edges of video tape

you think your life is tough.
*******.
did hard time, 30 years,
in a prison with no air or light,
a cell the size of my brain

just when the stench is mostly gone,
the cache ripped asunder
and stink so profound
you gotta lie down,
cause a reflection in a mirror
is ample excuse to put your
head or hand through it

and all you did was go see a play entitled
scenes from a marriage,
and afterwards you keep both hands in your pockets
lest you start choking yourself
10/12/14
Mo Issa Dec 2016
I'm off to work
25 minutes later
I'm on my desk.
It's empty.
The day passes by
so smoothly
Nothing to stir the heart

I'm in my car
it drives so well
Nothing that makes it stop

I'm back home
dinner at 7 pm.
Nothing exciting to tell

It was a good day.
A fab year
and a decade passes like that.  

There's strange odour
emanating from the ether
I look at my hands and feet
now covered in brown-orangey rust
I've turned into oxide.
softcomponent Sep 2014
i don't spit it down the throat of every
girl who makes me feel less dead.. even
if death inside is a starred little sidenote
in the CIA World Factbook, it's some
-thing sacred in my jeans and undershirt
heart-pang-thump boombox screams for
help. I read deep into the books and so arrange
the angry letters to live again inside the head of
someone else who is 'out-there' in the letter-fed
litterbox of word salad, doused in the vinaigrette
of mossy, ancient, cradle-laden sadness. I wonder
if the world is made of sadness and my pain is just
a girder-- I wonder if the world is made of loss and
my heartache just a brick all sunset-red forever within
the orangey dusks of Eastern London urban suburb
industry-- and yet it couldn't be as loss implies an absence--
yet an absence might be matter in the vein of metaphysics
as metaphysicality.. all of it blaring sirens and quiet nights
alone in frothy evening heat, not enough aesthetic to this
new bedroom, lacking dresser-drawers desktop for god
-sakes you still live outta your suitcase ready to **** yourself
and bring your clothing with you like the pharaohs of Giza--
whoever left you stranded on this planet must've taken one
last glance on backwards to whisper rather sympathetically
'good luck' before the tryptamine caused him or her or 'it' to
fade back into the radiowave of the grave with life so condemned
to speech and distinction, you would never be lost in the fade...
what was there to 'say' anymore, except "hey everyone watch
my scars start to bleed *** they're scars we keep cutting on
sharp little ridges pretending they're gonna get better and
better and better again-- hey everyone pay attention to my
pain *** I'm not waving ******* I'm drowning.. I'm not
waving ******* I'm DROWNING"
Mark Vandergon Dec 2012
Cantations whispered to me here
She smiles gently overhead
With a summer's orangey glow
And a warmth from ear to ear

I need not make a wish,
For I'll wait not for it here
Mark Vandergon 2012
Water under
the bridge,

rolling
and
tumbling,

kissing
the river's
edge,

trees
bend
in a breeze.

A  lonesome
moon
calls out
to the stars
ignoring
their
true
light.

A *****
strikes
the earth,

over turning
a crawlers
night lunch.

A bottle
of ***
shared
by two

who steer
clear
of the fires
orangey
fingers.

Fingers
to fry
the catch
under
the
night's sky.
kirk Nov 2017
All the classic adverts a lot of them are missed
Adverts that are made today the producers must be ******
They're nothing like the classic ads I'm afraid I must resist
There isn't any flare or finesse so please would you desist
The same adverts are always shown there's no surprise or twist
Adverts are not liked these days I hope you get the gist
Your all just sitting there with you ***** clutched in your fist
Messing up your nice pressed suits with a swift one of the wrist
New adverts bore you to tears but it's all that you enlist
Cos your making more backhanders it's why you still persist
Stop relying on the sponsors we know there **** is kissed
And take particular notice of the old ones on this list

A skeleton with video tapes told us how its gonna be
Re-record not fade away with Scotch's lifetime guarantee
Whiskers was the food of choice according to the stats
It was preferred by at least eight out of ten cats
Noodle Doodle twisted spaghetti into motor cars and houses
He twisted it into butterflies and eek noodle doodle mouse's
A hippo made a fruity drink way down in the Congo
He danced a dainty tango and a rhino called it Um Bongo
There was only one Tea that could make you go OO!
Sue Pollard and Frankie Howard found out with Typhoo
But those little Tetley Tea Folk know without a doubt
That 2000 perforations would let the flavour flood out
You knew what to do to put the freshness back
Every time you vacuumed and did the Shake and Vac
Don't wake up and go to town use the one all over smell
Insignia's shampoo and deodorant, aftershave and shower gel
Jeremy had a roaring toothache again he liked to many treats
he could have had a crocodile smile without eating sweets
She was the Right One she would skate to get it there
Nicollete Sheridan delivered Martini anytime anyplace anywhere
A second class ticket to Dottingham a misunderstanding caper
Tunes could make you breath more easily with its Menthol vapour
Milk in every half pound one chunk lead to another
With a glass and a half for every Dairy Milk lover
Muhammad Ali and Benny Hill knew their coming fate
They watched out with a Humphrey about, drinking Unigate

If your into protection with your Mate's or a Durex
You'd get that rubber feeling during penetrative ***
Unless your like Fred Brewster and Geronimo was there
A friend that was washable and like an inner tube to wear

A chocolate bar sang about everybody's case of the Fruit and Nut
David Rappaport could tell it was Tizer when his eyes where shut
Kia Ora's to orangey for crows, it was just for him and his dog
Spuds wanted to be Smiths Crisps and not an average Joe Blog
Bars Iron Brew from Girders the Scottish people like
A second thought at junctions think once think twice think bike
You Crossed your heart for a better figure with a Playtex Bra
The Renualt Clio had a certain flair for Nicole and Papa
Flowers delivered from Interflora making your day bright
It was a taste to make you shine ohhh ohhh Vitalite
Sainsbury's world war one solders shared and called a truce
Maynard's Wine Gums set the juice loose aboot the hoose
Why would you have cotton when Galaxy was silk?
It was cool for cats when you woke up to Milk
The man from Del Monte loved fresh fruit so he said Yes
Frosty's where Grrreat, Tony Tiger expected nothing less
But Esso was the only petrol with a tiger in the tank
A galloping black horse was the icon for Lloyds bank

Its your life with Tampax you jumped around and skated
Jack Dee had John Smiths, was his Widget overrated ?
Flowers where given on Impulse hoping the ladies dated
Mr Soft loved Trebor mints a strange world was created
Flake was the Crumbliest chocolate was that understated?
Marmite was the kind of spread you loved or even hated
Michelin Man was made of tyres he was rubber weighted
A family always had there diner, with Oxo it was plated

Castlemain Four X wouldn't give anything else, Australians would preach
Unless you where Paul Hogan and Fosters Amber Nectar he would teach
But Heineken would refresh the parts other beers could not reach
Strongbow was strong straight and true made from apple and not peach
Broad at the shoulders slim at the hips Big Bad Dom Domestos Bleach
The Jolly Green Giant loved Sweet corn with his ** ** ** speech

Please broadcast something good, instead of all your trash
There is No Cornetto's from Italy! none shown from this stash
Like Cadburys and Nestle or the robot men from Smash
You had a break with Kit Kat and convenient packet mash
No Dr Whites ***** Pads I don't mean to sound so brash
Where is Castrol GTX or Buzby there's not even a rehash
All Gambling and Insurance Ads tying to get our cash
No concern about the national debt or any loan backlash

Rolf Harris teaching kids to swim in the water they did love it
I bet if they where around today they'd tell old Rolf to shove it
I felt sorry for that poor Churchill dog I admired his endurance
To put up with Rolfs wobble board that isn't much insurance

Jimmy Saville talked of safety he clunked clicked every trip
But Jimmy's mind was somewhere else thinking who he'd like to strip
And British Rail where unaware when he was trying not to slip
With Jims intent with his Railcard to get you in his grip

You may think its controversial, you may think its the wrong call?
I Guarantee the companies thought they where on the ball
I bet these ads are a blot and drive them up the wall
If they'd have known about these guys they wouldn't feel so small
These companies would not have hired Jim or Rolf at all
It doesn't matter if they're the ones who are not standing tall

Why cant new adverts be like the old ones that we had?
What's happened to production why are they so bad?
They are all so boring and there really rather sad
None of them are out there that make you feel so glad
Why do you insist on showing ones that drive us mad
Your viewers are so ******* board more than just a tad
everyone is getting annoyed even our mum and dad
stop showing the new adverts stop ruining our pad

We don't want life insurance or sponsors for every show
We don't want Go Compare adverts, the Gtech can surely go
There are no Classic overtones they've lost that certain glow
Its boring seeing the same adverts shown in the same row
Phone commercials are not wanted it may be quite a blow
Loans and expensive Sky packages the people should say no
Please would you take some advice stop keeping these in tow
And bring back all the classic ads and stop going with the flow
Jackie Mead Oct 2019
At the start of another Autumnal day.
When the sun has not yet risen and the suns heat is still weak.
The fog comes out to.play; hanging in the sky coating everything in a dense hazy mist.
Chimney pots on top of houses, usually can be seen, as well as hillsides in the distance usually a bright verdant green.

The fog swirls and thickens, dims the natural light.
Hiding tops of trees, chimney pots and hillsides of green from your sight.

Slowly the sun begins to rise and cast a welcome glow.
The white clouds become tinged a pale orangey yellow.
The sun begins to find its warmth burning its way through the haze.
The fog is losing the battle, the sun is winning today.

The bright red sun is shining through.
And is such a wonderful sight at the start of another wonderful Autumnal day.
A beautiful sight on my way to work on Tuesday.
The sun was rising late, I had to stop and take pictures.
I love nature.

— The End —