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JL Dec 2011
Onomatopoeia Wouldn't Wanna Be Ya
Oh yes I fully understand
The sounds of this world are good and bad
Good and bad
Good and bad
Nothing like the sound of a good rhyme
A chime
A dime
The sound of a kiss
THE LOUDER THE BETTER I ALWAYS SAY
The sound of a forest
Sleepily
The branches scrape and scratch
Ratta tat tatting on the window
I love to hear the ones I love
Say I love you too
But  bad sounds are just as bad
A breaking bottle of good *****
A child crying in a store
A branch
Ratta tat tatting on my window at night
A car crash
A crying girl
Or your parents fighting
CRACK BANG SLASH KURRANG BOOM RING A DING DING
So I guess  to put it all into a rhyming couplet

If a sound is bad I hates it
If it’s good I loves it
Continue reading...
Meagan Moore Jan 2014
Peach Juice Lingerie
Draped in fresh-knitted pearls
we traipsed
into saccharine peach orchard

The summer heat loped about our dew-kissed ******
****** - appropriated from dawn spent on neatly shorn plantation grass

Ambling into the knotted palatial arbor
we sat each in our own tree crux
behinds nestled upon ashen bark

Juice dripping in our grip
down our cast nets of flesh
sprawled about the branches
inset with gravity-defying liquescent orbs
dusted in translucent mink
painted with smears of
citrine, coral, amber, and ichorous
clinging to brass stem

The rondures secede to mandible
taut between palms pull and polished ivories
- torn-

Fluent in dulcet discourse
We cloak ourselves in provocative juice tatting
Until such time that our congealing garments
were found mapping the bark's topography
A saccharine map to the breath of soil

Bloodstone ants found our map
and had begun traversing - portent
to seize our treasure

We surrendered our jewelled cages
and took flight
to the sun-drunken lake to bathe
and swim
until heavy lids kissed moistly
heavily supped on the draught
sleep - beckoned transience
Continue reading...
T. S. Eliot
The Old Gumbie Cat
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots.
All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat;
She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
And when all the family’s in bed and asleep,
She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep.
She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice—
Their behaviour’s not good and their manners not nice;
So when she has got them lined up on the matting,
She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots.
All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet,
She is sure it is due to irregular diet;
And believing that nothing is done without trying,
She sets right to work with her baking and frying.
She makes them a mouse—cake of bread and dried peas,
And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots.
She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that’s smooth and flat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment
To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment.
So she’s formed, from that lot of disorderly louts,
A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts,
With a purpose in life and a good deed to do—
And she’s even created a Beetles’ Tattoo.

So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers—
On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears.
Continue reading...
Cné Feb 2017
Challenged Accepted (Mentally at least)
I take up the gauntlet
Wrestling you, word and rhyme.
Posturing my play afforded,
For a mental good time.

Tatting for ***
This-ing for that
Battling your wit
Prose-ing a chat.

No way to win,
Enticing it may be.
The towel I throw in
You will always beat me!
A challenge TF
#rhyme #thought #humor #accepted
Continue reading...
Alessander Dec 2016
Ode to Misfits
This is to all those misfits

To the Romeo car-washing in Inglewood inlets
To the Hippy selling crystals on the Venice boardwalk
The Magician swallowing 8-***** at the Huntington Beach peer
The Rapper selling CDs in the Ranch Market parking lot
The **** tatting in a makeshift garage
The Poet slinging chapbooks at cafes and rec centers…


Not androids pontificating from lecterns
But grimy roots burrowing deep
Seismic rumblings toppling down
Insured ivory towers
Smashing pilled-paradigms beneath Docs
Hustling and slinging
In the forbidden outshacks of civilization
In tents, over barbed-wire, beside shards
Desperate and burning
For neither Truth or Beauty
But for LIFE

They do not tap wrists
No,  they thump chests
To feel it beat
To feel it rage
For fugitive fugues
For new eternities

They embrace
******* romance
Graveyard necromance
The holy hunger for change
Defying commercials and charts
Shivering and howling on streets
Waging guerrilla war
Liberating cubicled-hearts
#underground #misfit #guerilla
Continue reading...
Meagan Moore Jan 2014
Enigmatic Repair
Catatonic fusion with bathroom tile
vapor patina about my lattice
neophyte - les enfants - lain there
my fingers dipped beneath ribs
diaphragm compressed - ***** tatting saliva
I firmly grasp the seam-ripper and unspool
aortic tissue
extracting one thread at a time
tying the fist in a knot
releasing kinetic ****** each time
I attempt
enigmatic repair
Continue reading...
Meagan Moore Feb 2014
Swallowing Pearls and Lace
“How can I get you to go down on me,”
he asked, without preamble.
His voice, nervous,
laced with strength
hums through her form,
summoning
a tatting of ***.

She moves her entire form
Across the room
pushing solar plexus
With index finger
The wingback chair collecting
His form – assuaging her intent.

Retreating nine steps
To gather
Her acumen in dripping her clothes off
Adroit pivot
portent gaze
locked
exteroception - engaged

His exhale
executed succinctly in shallow lung
puckered alveoli - clenched
resonates as her own.

Pearls scooped catatonic
atop lingering breast ascension - alone
Remain –
Summoning brine.

She tastes his pulse
Derma puckering sweat globules
Redolent aeriform vapor corpuscles
declaring his need.

Fingers supporting her upper weight
she glides - crawling
pressing half inch spurs into the carpet

Lackadaisical dactyl dance
Seizes
muscle calf to thigh
Invoking listless leg drape

Pausing
Warm breath – rendered
Upon knee cap parallel
Framing shoulders

Engorging - in aching silence
Pulse thick, wrought in shaft

Kneeling
Primed
Proud

She flicks the button
From slit fabric recess
Cupping palms under thigh,
She renders garment to puddle

half-in – half-out
whole
chthonic shaft to palette

Sliding exhale
to mound
lax jaw
focus
Iris entreats -
narrowed corneal withdrawal

Oblong lip array surrounds
Supping the creamy, coppery,
Smoky, saline inoculation.

Latent dribble invokes tongue
Furl about lip cusp
Absorbing globule
Into slaked smile.
Continue reading...
Del Maximo Jun 2015
HIS FISHING NET
(tales of my mamasita)

after breakfast
father would tend his tuba
father and mother
would then forage the farm for
cassava, sweet potatoes, green bananas
tarot roots and fruits
sometimes harvesting enough
for two days
while mother prepared lunch
father would fish for viand with
his fishing net
going to the far side
of our part of the island
or staying not far from the house
sometimes big brother and little brother
would go with him
to carry large baskets for catch
father was an artist with
his fishing net
circular and hand knotted
lead pieces sewn to the rim
his fishing net
was carried folded over his shoulder
the tip held in front of him
the heavy weighted part hanging behind
eyes shaded with hands
he searched for schools near the shore
in the clear turquoise
putting it down on powdery dry sand
his fishing net
was supported on his forearm
grabbing another part with his free hand
he would turn and fling
his fishing net
over the blueness
seemingly effortlessly
arms stretched skyward
his fishing net
would expand in mid-air
arcing like a geodesic dome
hovering like a frisbee
floating down to the water
in slow motion
finally sinking into sea
father would wade waist deep
stir the fish with his hand
then haul
his fishing net
full of  mullets and other small fish
we would feast for lunch and dinner
with a plentiful catch both
father and mother
would scale and clean
sun dried, smoked or salted
preserved for tomorrows
everything was cleaned up
and put away after lunch
siesta time
afterwards, mother would
do her pottery
fix the tree bark for father’s tuba
or repair
his fishing net
using a tatting device
father and mother
always kept themselves busy
never whiling away the time
till dark
© 06/04/2015
Continue reading...
Meagan Moore Mar 2015
Swallowing Pearls and Lace
“Swallowing Pearls and Lace”
“How can I get you to go down on me,”
he asked, without preamble.
His voice, nervous,
laced with strength
hums through her form,
summoning
a tatting of ***.

I moved my entire form
Across the room
Pushing his solar plexus
With index finger
The wingback chair collecting
His form – assuaging my intent.

Retreating nine steps
To gather
my acumen in dripping my clothes off
Adroit pivot
portent gaze
locked
exteroception - engaged

His exhale
executed succinctly in shallow lung
puckered alveoli –
Clenched -
resonates as my own.

Pearls scooped catatonic
atop lingering breast ascension - alone
Remain –
Summoning brine.

I taste his pulse
Derma puckering sweat
Redolent vapor
Knotting between each pore – skin taut
declaring his need.

Fingers supporting my upper weight
I glide - crawling
pressing half inch spurs into the carpet

Lackadaisical dactyl dance
Seizes
muscle calf to thigh
Invoking listless leg drape

Pausing
Warm breath – rendered
Upon knee cap parallel
Framing shoulders

Engorging - in aching silence
Pulse thick, wrought in shaft

Kneeling
Primed
Proud

I flick the button
From slit fabric recess
Cupping palms under thigh,
rendering garment to puddle

half-in – half-out
whole
chthonic shaft to palette

Sliding exhale
to mound
lax jaw
focus
His iris entreats -
narrowed corneal withdrawal

Oblong lip array surrounds
Supping the creamy, coppery,
Smoky, saline

Latent dribble invokes my tongue
Furl about lip cusp
Absorbing globule
Into slaked smile.
(Revision 1 - Shifted into 1st Person)
Continue reading...
Dave Hardin Sep 2016
A Small Autumn Still Life
A Small Autumn Landscape

On last evening’s walk
through a picture of town
careful to keep
to harrowed strokes
mindful of losing our way
in unresolved scumble
we had a brush
with skinning paint
how else to explain
morning coat sleeves
laden as a honeybee’s legs
Sixth past Main
a good chunk of Fourth
defaced in a leisurely smear
constellation of city lights
bled into wet pavement.
You broadcast a hand
toward a break in the clouds
tatting the rim of the moon
your pillow beaded with creamy light
a few luminous grains
still clinging to your face.
#love #autumn #painting
Continue reading...
RW Khalid Curley Jan 2015
Passage
The bones of our friendship accuse me,
brittle; not gleaming, dull and dry, resonant of forgetfulness
their facticity desiccating, chipping, drifting
into obscure cracks in the ossuary of recollection.
Each mute bone is a stick upon taught silence
rat-tat-tatting a twisting wheezing death roll
bones drumming for an audience of none,
echoing through the past,
oblivious to the cadence of the living.

There is no salvation from the wheel.
You turn and spin,
a constellation in my memories.
Rat-tat-tat
Amogasidi!
Do not be deterred.
Align the maze.
Open the door from Samsara!

Rat-tat-tat.
Continue reading...
Loraine Fromm Aug 2011
This will be our island
THIS WILL BE OUR ISLAND

Take me to a mountain high, tell me when we reach the sky
Hold my hand and we will fly, It's so good to be with you

Take me to a stretch of sand, a lonely beach not in this land
Sun bleached hair and bare feet tanned, It's so good to walk with you

Take me to a field of flowers, lay with me for many hours
Watch the clouds above like towers, It feels so good to lay with you

You can take my anywhere, all our thoughts we seem to share
Hold me now with loving care, I'll hold you and we'll go there

It's just a simple fireplace, of others you will find no trace
And like the art of tatting lace, we weave our own dreams

This is our island
Continue reading...
RW Khalid Curley Jan 2015
Untitled
Passage


The bones of our friendship accuse me,
brittle; not gleaming, dull and dry, resonant of forgetfulness
their facticity desiccating, chipping, drifting
into obscure cracks in the ossuary of recollection.
Each mute bone is a stick upon taught silence
rat-tat-tatting a twisting wheezing death roll
bones drumming for an audience of none,
echoing through the past,
oblivious to the cadence of the living.

There is no salvation from the wheel.
You turn and spin,
a constellation in my memories.
Rat-tat-tat
Amogasidi!
Do not be deterred.
Align the maze.
Open the door from Samsara!

Rat-tat-tat.
Continue reading...
Joel M Frye Aug 2020
Mme. LaFarge
A love for music and words
so deeply stained
in your soul
that all could see
your life's blood
coloring the brick wall
you had painted
so that any artist
who made you stop
the tatting and applaud
could leave their autograph.
Not that you'd exclude
the hangers-on and wanna-be's
from the stage.
That would not be kind.
But you'd get that distant look
as your hands would keep
stitching, knotting, tying off
until the talent showed up.
The hands needled and weaved
without pause;
Only a shift in focus
let the musician or poet know
that they indeed were heard.

Your words at once
lovely and incisive,
inobtrusively lethal
when you chose to create;
pointed as the tatting needles
and strung together
as thoughtfully, carefully
and beautifully as
table runners and doilies.

Too few remember
your dedication to
your coffeehouse,
how you bled
paycheck after paycheck
to keep a stage lit
to keep the magic
of a new discovery
who would soon become a new friend.

It was a hole in the wall,
a converted brick storefront
on a nondescript main street
of a small Florida city.
It lit the lives
of many who needed
a place to bare their souls.
It...
and you...
were great.
R.I.P. Billie Noakes, founder of C.A.M.S coffeehouse and a friend of 30 years.  Sorry it took me so long, Billie.
#billie #noakes
Continue reading...
Filmore Townsend Feb 2015
H021815
sun rising; wail the
sirens of recognition.
tat-tatting away frost.
Continue reading...
neth jones Nov 4
fused
in pursuit of you                          
i put myself in harms way
something ‘teethy’  entered my bloodstream
and  flooded   i hoped for the best

we crashed   and meddled   and crashed
again
a fixed ache  we were yanked back to
chairs, tables, sofas, beds
bending to the shapes and endurance levels
sounding off of their abilities to aid our act
          even thrown over washings machines
tatting against their vibrations
tossed about in bathrooms                                      
our clothing pulled from us outdoors
risking winter exposure
                                    dragged to the gritty pavement
and hurled against solid public art
all very much in tune                                            
        with natures ludic intentions
           and without a mote of embarrassment
                                               on our part
june 23

extracted bit -

shot through the seasons together
we thrashed about in the snow - in the night -
in the sick freeze of the city -
the trash -
quiet deafened and jarringly loud after the pubs let out
#attraction #romance #lust #relationships #partners #fun #mating
Continue reading...
Bloodline of King Yashayah Nov 2020
Unsung Poetry
Jacking for beats street rat
Aladdin heart of a permanent tatting
To ya mind grind hard sleep light keep the blunts tight
Ravioli pasta never been an impasta  one luv to my true rastaz
Eat steaks to shrimps with mobsters monster boss underground
Different sounds this is htown on the microphone watch me hound
Like a dog no full moon stay tripping of the shines of a moon
Original ***** stay in the booth only speak chips of the truth
Never betray the youth big dog status watch for Trish Stratus
******* pointed like shooters see the birds dive the worms
Early I'm sitting at the gates pearly sparkle eyes cameo
There she go with the most beautiful glow four seasons mo'
But she best in the spring then comes summer love
Watch the fall back in the winters of hate begs to create wait?
It's never to late dont chase fate just rely on the strength of faith
Moved mountains with mustard seeds sprinkle my seeds
Let it grow inside a womans belly portals of an embryo
From space to the earth's uncomfy place last place so let's face
Reality probably folks lost in what I been saying I'm saying
Simple **** wisdom done in the mist of the deepest pits
Watch the Tut hat tilted and guilted thinking like a king should?
Throne holding the hearts of the mice galaxies alone bone
Alleys from all the suckas that got caught by deaths tallies
Continue reading...
Bloodline of King Yashayah Jan 2020
Buck-Town
Call me Tony love saprano murderin' holes
Pendejos I cop those girls with the open toes
Thats the way the games flows portals
Slow ya roll gangsta rock got ya head knock
The hardest since Shaft baby this ain't a draft
Im feelin' myself since I got a clean bill of health
Resonate from rhymes I create paper crates
Stacking higher than the Empire State building
Auto yielding my pens spilling inks feelin'
Between the white sheets turns out to freak
Hypes my speech contract breech impeach
Cuz im too real to a be a leech big like Meech
Mafiaso slow blow cigars cocoa chop snows
breaths life into my mental brighten opticals
Says me says no to my critics gimmicks
Love to mimic gun play protege singin' Olè
split ya toupee cooked fish fillets cuz ***** pays
Attention to the legs whistlin' hot chicken
Seasoned hips is twitching baby girl glistening
Like water to a suns reflection collections
Of my poetry sitting on a higher degree PhD
Street graduate no matter how hard it gets
Snipe out the snake pits see me strike out corporates


Since i was a Gambino fiend for green notes
Backs rebels shekels hard to get heckled
Dot the flows leave the industry speckled
Jester to a Chester Cheetos  bold as Doritos
See me move easily suckas turning greasy
Call me Mike Beasty mics I heat to a gritty
City to city we getting good and plenty Henny
Sippin' no penny tippin' got plots to be rippin'
Jack moves improve on a mellow mood
Temptations lusting patience hesitance
Suckas wanna devils dance ****** romance
Body ****** this ain't for the perks catch a murk
Disappear like morning fog mist double hiss
Penetrate the bliss hate to kiss a risk brisk
My task once I learn how utilize Michael's mask
Point 0you sittin' at zero you an undercover 5-0
Cant play a street general learned the minerals
Mean as Patton not from the island of Staten
But these bullets will leave a permanent tatting
Like whats happening? Life recapturing spins
Thats what ya get for tryna make false moves
Needle to the groove spins my nouns smooth
Tryna reclaim the black moon bloom n ya doomed
Lyrics a caccoon
Spread the butterfly effect see my tapes wreck
On the turntable set ready set Barry injects
In ya earlobes around the globes of the abodes
postal Toads sitting like gloats on the roads
Never gloat greatness im just tryna manifest the best
Continue reading...
sandra wyllie Jun 2022
I Need to be Alone
where the trees are
my home. No walls or
doors/no ceilings or floors. The dirt
between my toes. A scent of pine

dancing under my nose. The wind
blowing my hair. A log for my
chair. The bellowing of the bullfrog. Sedges
and heaths by the bog. The tat-tatting

of the woodpecker. No hat or
coat checkers. No small talk
where men flock to gawk at woman
in pairs. The azure sky and country

air. Woody vines/not long lines
or the weight of a heavy stare. No red satin
dresses. Here you won’t find stresses. The only
thing running is the river. A sliver of paradise

without a price. And the stars don’t sue/just shine
in a paisley-colored sky.
Continue reading...
Amanda Shelton Aug 23
Fragile
Tatter tatter, tatting my life,
like fragile lace I am made from
thin threads of memories and trauma.

Tug tow and pull, on my life as
I write my designs exposing
my frade and fragile times.

Here I feel free, a place
to spread my wings.

I will never forget my struggles
for they are important.

Tat tat tattered, I am made
like that.

Sewn by scars and wrinkles,
as I grow.

Like old blue jeans,
I slowly fade into gray
fragile threads loosen
at my ends. Unraveling
my experiences
like used blue jeans.

©️ 2024 By Amanda Shelton
Continue reading...
Keshia21lb Jul 2020
My only wish
My only wish
I’m scared of not missing you anymore, I’m scared to live that day.
I’m scared my mind will erase the memory of the day you went away.
I put a lot of trust in you, you said that you were different.
Your intellect was beyond the hood, but I guess not far enough to miss it.

I guess I should’ve told you that I’m really sensitive, though I try to act like I don’t mind, that night I still relive.
I’m ashamed because I know I love you way more than you like me,
and that I cry for you when you’re not here so much that I can’t see.

This headache just won’t go away its been here since you left.
Though loud yet meek, though screaming yet bleak, this loss truly feels like death.
I pray you don’t feel these words are a stretch because we’ve shared limited time,
or that I’m completely insane for tatting your name, assuring I’ve lost my mind.

Well, the truth is that you are for me, and I’ve known it since we met.
Yeah, we fought, loved, broken up, but there’s something you just have to get.
I don’t want anyone else baby doll, I don’t want another man.
I’ll build you up and give you my heart to cradle in your hand.

I admit I am attached baby, and dangerously its true.
That I want to offer my body and soul as a sacrifice to you.
I pray you never leave my side though physical I can take,
but mentally please stay awhile and never leave this place.

365 days is the longest fight I feel I’ve already been beat.
That waiting is indeed the hardest game and I’ve just succumbed to defeat.
Terell aka my babe that definitely is what you are.
Though unspoken yet chanted, and rough yet romantic, this love was written in the stars.

I don’t know what you feel inside, or if this load you can carry.
If once you’re out you’ll go buck wild or settle down and marry.
I feel we’ll be getting to know each other more so here than before,
so open and let me in because it’s you that I adore.

The fate of this relationship is exclusively up to you, ill be holding down my end until my biggest dream comes true-
I love you
Continue reading...
Keshia21lb Aug 2020
My only wish
I’m scared of not missing you anymore, I’m scared to live that day.
I’m scared my mind will erase the memory of the day you went away.
I put a lot of trust in you, you said that you were different.
Your intellect was beyond the hood, but I guess not far enough to miss it.

I guess I should’ve told you that I’m really sensitive, though I try to act like I don’t mind, that night I still relive.
I’m ashamed because I know I love you way more than you like me,
and that I cry for you when you’re not here so much that I can’t see.

This headache just won’t go away its been here since you left.
Though loud yet meek, though screaming yet bleak, this loss truly feels like death.
I pray you don’t feel these words are a stretch because we’ve shared limited time,
or that I’m completely insane for tatting your name, assuring I’ve lost my mind.

Well, the truth is that you are for me, and I’ve known it since we met.
Yeah, we fought, loved, broken up, but there’s something you just have to get.
I don’t want anyone else baby doll, I don’t want another man.
I’ll build you up and give you my heart to cradle in your hand.

I admit I am attached baby, and dangerously its true.
That I want to offer my body and soul as a sacrifice to you.
I pray you never leave my side though physical I can take,
but mentally please stay awhile and never leave this place.

365 days is the longest fight I feel I’ve already been beat.
That waiting is indeed the hardest game and I’ve just succumbed to defeat.
Terell aka my babe that definitely is what you are.
Though unspoken yet chanted, and rough yet romantic, this love was written in the stars.

I don’t know what you feel inside, or if this load you can carry.
If you'll settle down and marry.
I feel we’ll be getting to know each other more so here than before,
so open and let me in because it’s you that I adore.

The fate of this relationship is exclusively up to you, ill be holding down my end until my biggest dream comes true-
I love you
Continue reading...

— The End —