A Passle of Poems

Feelings:

When foul of mood, I freeze in freshest spring,

And cheer leaves footprints ‘cross the sparkling snow,

Exhilaration sees gray skies and sings,

While tired hides in bed through roosters’ crows.

My sorrow bundles up and never warms,

My giddy laughs love fog and frozen streams,

Excitement longs to dance while skylines storm,

And who has cozy nightmares, icy dreams?

Since when has careless joy been capped by rain?

Can blue skies comfort when you’ve been maligned?

So while the weather has a little say,

Not much; the truth is cold’s a frame of mind.

The sun can rise, burn out, or be concealed,

Still temperature will follow what I feel.

Nonsense:

Do you hear the flowers singing

silently beneath their breath?

can you spot the breezes dancing

tumbling, springing from the west?

can you taste the mountain’s mood

while the weather hides his grin?

have you smelled the ponds reflection

rendering the skyline’s twin?

can you feel the sunset’s pink

bursting joy, spares no expense?

tell me did you stop to think

my poem don’t make any sense?

Tortoise:

The mustiness of mice, hay and heat

Makes the shed’s air feel heavy,

Unpleasant for me and

Just the way she likes it.

The rotund and armored body

Lumbers in her attempt at speed,

Shifting heft between

Elephantine back legs

And the heavily spiked front.

I watched her neck extend,

Like a saggy scaled sock,

Bringing her beak and beady eyes

Closer to the vegetables.

She blinks and noses it,

Opens her mouth, revealing a fat tongue

For only a second before

She chomps down

On the feast of Iceberg lettuce.

Thoughts:

You turn and spin and twirl again

Like children did in spring

Once more you laugh as if with friends

And force yourself to sing

Do deeds with joy as if the world

Has not begun to rot

And hold yourself ‘gainst insults hurled

Upon your lonesome lot

Just smile

A while

And hide from all your thoughts

Scotland:

The soft rain was so light that it hung in the ir,

Too petite to be droplets; it tingled my skin

And it dampened the quiet still battleground where

The two colors were silently striving to win

The vast foreground of fading and limited landscape.

The dark green of the grass was insistent and bright,

Like sharp jewels. The mist was more ruthless and draped

Almost clinging, like ghosts of large land ridden barnacles, white

More than gray. The land, to assist the besieged,

Here had risen, and mounds underfoot lent their aid

By bringing the blades of the grass within reach;

For one moment, green triumphed, then smothered by gray.

The pale cold did not matter, nor rain that descends

Where I stood on the cairn, hiding treasure or tombs.

What mattered was war, this one war without end,

Between Scotland's fierce life and its shadowing gloom.

Ode to the Edible:

O you few

You many

You epic variety

Of things I can put in my mouth

You’re scrumptious

Delicious

Ambrosian flavorous

Entirely perfect throughout

Be ye small

Or quite tall

The consumption of all

Is my sole unachievable goal

Eat meaty

And cheesy

The crunchy and greasy

and comfort my hungering soul.

Onions:

My tears stem from the slaughtering of vegetables,

For who can keep from feeling pain

Watching a knife and being the wielder

As so many layers of flesh are parted

For nothing more

But the sake of my palate.

Young for a Moment:

I ran outside barefoot,

Thinking about not thinking.

The surrounding landscape

Was scantily clad in snow,

But my hill was soft with mud.

Dirt soaked with thawing ice squished

between individual toes

While the scraps of plowed stems

Stabbed painfully.

Why did I run amok,

Torturing my feet?

My dogs are cuter than the cold

And the oldest,

So commonly creachy,

Was prancing like a puppy.

Maybe I felt time turning back.

Turning to a place where I

didn’t question impulses.

Maybe the bright melted snow

Makes children of us all.

Maybe I was simply possessed

By the poetical.

Maybe I’m comfortable

Being a fool in the eyes

Of canines and empty sky.

But time caught up again

And I went to put on my boots.