"pinwheels" poems
I made 1000 pinwheels
instead of cranes
They were beacons And
wishes.
You lined your front yard with them.
A dizzying kaleidoscope
lighting up your porch
So I would know when
I arrived back to you,
home
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
No second chances!
No do-overs!
That is one of the regreatable rules of time.
No more pigtails & pretty dresses,
No more Horsey-back & Piggy-back rides,
No more Tee-ball & Soccer,
No more Marry Poppens & Wizard of OZ,
No more Popcorn & Video games,
No more homework & bed time stories,
No more marshmellow roasts & snipe hunts,
No more sand castles & sand dollars,
No more Sparklers & Pinwheels.
No time to pause & reflect!
It can only cause regret!
Enjoy it along the way while you can.
Everything is temporary.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
When the first sweet scent of summertime,
sifted through the sea-salt scented air,
so many things and everything
were bright, light and happy-go-fair,
the Summer Life with you was finally here.
As soon as our bare feet hit the wood bridge,
running from the road up over the dunes,
great grey seagulls squawked, dove and swoon,
we held hands together, one and one
made two,
dash-dancing across the shiny sand with you,
dressed and undressed in our Summer Life moods.
Colours like pinwheels spun like yarn,
flashed and clashed bright orange to blue,
you danced and giggled like a loon,
pulled me up and so close, so close
to you,
that I had to dance, I had to dance like a loon,
I just had to laugh and dance and laugh along with you.
How we played, we frolicked beneath the beachy sun,
belly-surfed upon the waves just for funny fun,
flicked flecks of sand from our sticky picnic lunch,
shared swigs from a big blue thermos jug
of fruity-fruit yummy punch,
sharing and caring beneath the Summer Life's sun.
By evening-tide the air grew cool,
you called me 'lover,' I called you 'fool'
-with a big ol' blanket draped over our shoulders,
we kissed and cuddled, growing much bolder,
falling flat back
upon the mighty mattress of sand,
feeling the mists of the waves licking our hands,
as the Man-In-The-Moon arose and shone,
to dance and laugh with us on the Summer Life's throne.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 1:46 AM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
I've never been startled to surprise
seeing a man riding a six-wheel bicycle on my side
gazing up his smile in full plain sight
so subtle like pinwheels on summer breeze.
Cheese! says the lens-man from southeast
a harmonious melody led me round and round
till horses jump out of the merry-go-round
so as teacups swirling with no succulent tea
but are found to be couples squirming in obscurity.
Surprised! that no one tend to flee
for nights fright of lustful fantasies
covered their state of subtle ease.
Oh Fun, Fun, Fun, when there seems to be no sun
and I felt heedless to ponder
the fact that I endlessly Run, Run, Run
in far out yonder
then oops! ouch!
I howled like thunder.
Deluded, how I fell on the ground
when music suddenly lost it sound
colors I've knew were out of bound
and haze of somnolence was all I found.
Where could I be?
Surprise!
He shrieked
Who could it be?
Unexpectedly he's someone I could not see!
yet only I can hear.
A nowhere man whom greeted with sigh
though I've never seen him in beacon's of light
for he always knows how to welter my sight
his eerie voice orchestrates the eventide
shocked me with so much surprise.
for his eyes lilt like fireflies.
He given me a euphony, took away the agony
and hid me somewhere I can't even grasp
how many he had taken away to his untrodden land
to turn me as one of them, his very own nowhere man.
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
its funny
a flower called impatient
still has to root down
and tangle with grass
you too
never to be caught dead
in the same social circle
as a window planter
or aluminum pinwheels
the same instruments
that brought you radio flyer wagons and torn-knees in your jeans
innocence
****
you window-shop
with a brick in your handbag
and a white patterned dress
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
The gauzy nightdress caresses her thighs
as her bare arms, trembling feet defy
the gnawing, gnashing wind.
The world hangs below,
teetering on the edge of a cliff.
She turns, back to the open air;
taxicabs panic below her.
She tilts, arms whirling like pinwheels,
and falls into freedom.
Serenity, it seems, is found in flying,
if only for a moment.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 12:25 AM UTC
******* on the lozenge of illogical orbit, we whirl like intergalactic pinwheels.
Metamorphosed , we are Martians—caring not for mortal notions.
Celestial beings with curt dispositions,
Making men the cynics that they are.
For that which exists is doomed to be doubted.
So it seems our duet is the demise of devout humanity, my dear.
Us, in artless cotton blankets,
Inhaling the infectious essence of
Eros.
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 1:13 PM UTC
Like sipping coffee with cigarette in hand,
watching waves rise and fall while stepping through warm sand,
you are peace of mind.
Like smelling roses during sweet sugary May,
Laying down after a long lingering day
you are an exhaling breath.
Like the tops of roller coasters about to drop,
Watching number wheels spin until they stop
You are anticipation.
Anticipation going over again in my head
Like a pinwheel being hushed to tread
Constantly spinning.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
Civilized mankind has a unique way,
To party and celebrate a most special day.
Potassium and sulfur, mixed with some coal,
Can reduce a mountain into the hill of a mole.
Gunpowder is thought to have China as a start,
Ceremonies commence, fireworks a part.
I always thought, it amusing to find,
Warfare and festival are two of a kind.
Powerful explosions that disable and destroy,
Have the ability to give the masses such joy.
Here we go, let the bash begin,
Guaranteed to give, your face a grin.
Let's add some luminosity to this summer blast,
Firecrackers and sparklers make the jubilee last.
Pinwheels are nailed safely to a tree,
Furiously twirls colors for all to see.
An aerial assault aloft, hear them roar,
Yellows and greens, in the air they will soar.
Flash flaming fluorescence, blue and red,
Envelop your eyes, dancing in your head.
See the trail of a missile, zipping in flight,
Shiny illuminations, all through the night.
On the ground at the end of a fireworks show,
Blazing stars and stripes, a flag created, watch it glow.
The fourth of July is America's time,
A birthday blowout, drinks with lemon and lime.
This frolicking is filled with food, family and fun,
Independence day, I wish it never was done.
Please visit poemsbypaul.com
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Yessir I have felonies
and melodies both melancholy and miraculous
paragraphiculous and ridiculous
stole some shows and some thunder
thighs like two day old pudding slap 'em and ride the waves
sike
drink up some dishwasher detergent chased with lead paint
not for the faint of heart just the stupid as ffffffffuuuuuu when under the right noises
and boyses and girlies all singing their swirlies
and twirlin' 'round like pinwheels of tin steel
ten feet off of the ground
hillsides like pill boxes full of coins and coincidences
unmeasured instances of grief and shame without a blame
no face to force hate just mirrors to show fate
and the stars in the sky with their winking teasing ways all
fall to the ground
will be dead within days
but they are not forsaken, maybe only spared
to avoid seeing the moment when sunny didn't share
and all went dark like absence of creation
animation of fears all mixed and respun into dope dubstep
to be grinded and mashed
and spat back up into the trees
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
1.
immortal stone
rolled away.
2.
..........pinwheels rolling on
O O O O O O O O O O O O
then just
flatlining ---^-^---^------^--------------------^----------------------------^--------------------
S T, 8 July 2013
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
Crater deep dimples filling hearts with mirthful spinning pinwheels. The sun rays illuminating the iris full of expectations, stories, lustrous joy, life. The energy shared in space made weak knees crumble. Silhouette causing brainwaves running rampant. The architecture of your shape is staggering. Staggered right through thoughts. Elated fingertips never found a better home. Hair blessing the wind with its presence. Giving flow to nature around. Flow through my life. The orbit already taken place. As simple as the circle I see in your glance. Smile again. Memorizing forms, unique, pictures, keeping them stored in a treasure chest behind my bones. Completed. Play your algebra once more. Lets get acquainted. Equal to the wonders of our body. Like the landmarks spread upon your skin like a treasure map. Let me discover you. The entrapment you caused upon my ability to speak is stammering. When did Things become so simple. Beauty slammed through ideas of broken bodies. It's an archive. Your body. Sun kissed and blessed by the noon. The way you illuminate under the vast open everything. I find my eyes fixed upon yours. Lost in the translation of their movements. Closing my eyes to imagine the holographic wonders taking place behind your reality. The turbulence in your chest is ever clear. Beauty isn't a word that I can make sense of. Not when I am presented with you.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
Rumpled feathers wrinkled in time
switchfeet running on a half battery
a horrible situation if you aren't accustomed
but to the rest
an average day-
breakfast lunch and dinner
nutrients, calories, sustenance
cherry bombs make lovely sundae toppings
then all goes nuts-
kaboom, kaplow
may all the tall ones wear pin striped suits
and carry pinwheels
and pin buttons of political preference to breast pockets
out pops golden sunshine
rays of gamma and joy
proletariat eternity
cannot decide
between juvenile altercations
or the same ole same ole way of ********
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
White cotton
and pink lace
pictures of castles
far away
children laughing
pinwheels blowing
in her room
a garden growing
a little Mozart
a little Top
a little smile
one teardrop
an "I believe"
on her wall
in the window
porcelin dolls
angels fly
about her house
and faerie dust
on the couch
the smell of roses
everywhere
endless infinity
in the air
prisms dancing
in her eyes
and I just never
wonder why
Nov 14, 2009
Nov 14, 2009 at 5:00 PM UTC
Tara is a little girl…she does pinwheels and cartwheels on crowded traffic signals and yeah …she has a small baby monkey who helps her…
Tara
Little Tara
Tonight I leave my
Pen to sniff
hunger ghosts
Rumbling in your belly…
Yes..
sniff from
Miles and miles apart
From your own
Ragged world
Of pin wheels
And cartwheels
Emaciated monkey babes
Ah ! In this hollow
Poetic world
Is it only rhythm
I seek …
Even as cold winds
Enter those gaps
Expanding forever
In your innocent
malnourished psyche…
Tara..
little Tara
tell me ..
how to give
a closure
to this verse…
Do I ask
You how
Your new year
Had been
Or..
Do I
Fish that
Rusted coin
From the bottom
Of my purse and
Toss it on
To your eager
Waiting palm
Tara..
Little Tara
Tell me
Helpless as I am
Shrouded
In my opulent hypocracy
…
As you are
…shivering
In your humble poverty
Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 7:32 PM UTC
I just want to be
a Duke of a Universe
is this too much to ask?
I could use
The Black Hole as a pool pocket
and the planets as pool-balls
and declare you
Vice Duke inspecting graffiti
on planet restroom walls,
and you report to me
those words of wisdom
of Plato, Nietzsche, Kilroy and cornbread...
I just want to watch
comets streek across
the heavens
and watch tiny pulsars blink minute rotations,
and newly created stars explode
and belch their heavenly gases
And see masses and masses
of nebulae
stretching outward
like blowy-toy-pinwheels
And I'll take the " Big Dipped"
and dip it in the " Milky Way"
while playing marbles
with tiny asteroids
And use the heavens as my
painter's canvas
and splash on newly Constellations
And use the many Suns
to warm my chilly hands,
The return from farthermost
planets of Sunless Lands
Oh my BOSS!!
I'm getting too serious
as you can easily see
And why worry?
Because I'm already
a Duke of a Universe,
The talk of the playground campus
The talk among every prominent
Neo-Freudian and Neo-Skinnerian
The talk about my wisdom writings
found near almost flushing toilet
at "QUACKSVILLE UNIVERSAL UNIVERSITY"
Here come the med cart
Here come the med cart
That's all folks
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
Once upon a time
The sky turned darker than black
And I was lost
But then
There were two lights
Brighter than hope
And you stepped forward
With eyes like shiny pinwheels
And pulled me into the daylight
So
I love you.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
I miss the crinkle smile
lines slithering up your
cheeks like canals on
the Martian surface-
evidence that life was once there.
Or the way your laughter could penetrate
the depths of my dead skin like
harmonious frequencies
erupting from a kitchen muse.
And where your hands touched
so did Midas follow;
and where your hair spiraled
out of your face in pinwheels
so did galaxies imitate.
The bed is colder now that you
have stepped away.
I miss the depressions in the sheets.
Oh yes I miss a lot.
But most of all I miss
what I never thought i would miss-
the ability of your lips to create
the sweetest music I’ve ever heard,
a thousand lyres playing in unison: I love you too.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 1:28 AM UTC
Ravens dance upon highwires.
Flashing pinwheels spinning in their beaks.
The merry-go-round grinds,
Its rusted gears, squealing into the wind.
Book pages whirl and fly off into the sky.
The fox’s cry to the butterfly
Went unheard in this whitewashed night.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
her voice shakes like a mud wall
in an earthquake, slurry and moistened
with beer, struggling to stand
in my ear, each fall of my boot chokes
further up the hillside neck,
her left behind cry cakes into my footsteps
then bleats *SEAN! I’m gonna fall
my legs hurt*, I’m worried the poison
of fear will melt her to sand
but I trust she doesn’t need assured looks
or words, just strength in her back,
her spine’s solid as mine, but she forgets
I wait at the top, the dome
where all upward strides will always lead
an inverted pit for sinking stones
too stubborn to abide to gravity
there at the top, the moon
pinwheels in time to deep and dizzy
breathing that yanks up my rooted bones
plants them in pieces outside of my body
her form summits at a crawl
but buries hurry in her voice and
comes near, commits a cold hand
SLAP
just begging to see my face broken
*why would you run? you’re a ****
but my abandonment was a sign of respect
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:26 AM UTC
Grand finale
The leaves rustle
Like crackling flames in the autumn breeze
Citrine embers , captivate
Widened eyes of an imagination
Remnant limbs outstretched
And ashen
Sweeping bristles of natures broom
A wave of fire , a dragging cloak
Hanging on the shoulders of the sun
Summers grand finale
The final act , up in a ball of fire
I watch the leaves rustle
Like pinwheels
Dipped in crimson orange
Rolling off into the horizon
A recycled canvas
Waiting to be dipped
in snowfall
Scrubbed with a winter sponge
And ready
Ready for springtimes pallet
Of gemstone hue's
And a brush melded
In morning dew and sunshine
And to start the cycle again
Until
summers grand finale
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 8:50 AM UTC
Under the humid air
I sit, on my lofty rock and stare
as warm summer heat rises
I look toward the burning horizon
Butterflies dance by together,
enjoying the sultry August weather.
While nearby sprinklers twirl
and pinwheels whirl.
A breeze gently wisps across my skin
as birds fly by, weaving out and in.
Settling on a limb to rest and sing
before ruffling feathers and taking wing.
Bright with summer's flowers
Adorn my garden bower
with intoxicating smells
of magnolia, wisteria and bluebells
Some of August's simple treasures
brings the most delightful pleasures.
ALesiach © 07/26/2019
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 3:42 PM UTC
We laughed and we fought,
we cried like children ought to
We pulled our pinwheels
against a never ending sky
pleading for the moon to stay behind,
if only for a little while
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 6:46 AM UTC
From out of the rain
Like a pinwheels in the wasteland
Water soaking up the sun
Careening, spinning away
Still leaving the unbroken skies
Splintered, inspiring rainbows
Donuts of fragmented lights
Misted drops in motion
Spun, shattered diamonds
Little tricks of stars
A kaleidoscope of mirrors
Each of mystical themes
From sky to barren earth
So short in flight
Hearty in life
That tremendous fall
Of a single drop, from heaven
So far to break, always apart
Explosion of color, to earth
To sing, eventually, again
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC