the bite marks on the surfboard
don't quite tell the story
it was a perfect wave, you see
the tube, a touch of glory
good thing she knows just how to swerve
or she'd become the great white's surf and turf
Author notes: image from allposters.com
I won't forget you, poplar grove, the moss under your shade, our bed
as we discovered what is love and spring itself declared us wed.
I won't forget you, no -- I can't! Though other forests roam this land
wherever life may choose to plant, my roots extend a loving hand
Author notes: image from fineartamerica.com
the best laid traps for mice and men
are those that hide their purpose
those that smile widely and pretend
to love you, at the surface
"We've your best interests in mind"
they are so eager, and so kind
and all the while, the trap
just waits to make its snap
out by Jupiter and Saturn -- listen up, my fellow geeks!
noticing a certain pattern: why are all these fellas Greeks?
fine, among them some fine ladies
heard that Pluto (known as Hades)
sends them hearts but they refuse
and Persephone, his muse
is way out there in the belt
must have told him how she felt
Some no doubt will say: they're Roman!
but unless you are a yeoman
they are wholly Greek, their culture
Roman -- veni, vedi, vulture
all the skies are tinged with classics
mostly of a certain kind
when discovering new planets
let's keep all of that in mind
sullen faces take their places
stare into each other's void
wrinkles draw their ample traces
long gone smiles appear annoyed
coffee overdose is wearing
faces show a certain sheen
no, they cannot help their staring
the new day will soon begin
"Please! Less tonic, and more gin",
that's the words that Gunga Din
uttered right before he went to find the Thuggees
Cannot blame him, as that bar
sometimes went a bit too far
Gunga knew though that there's always horse and buggies
So no need to drive yourself
and the gin, it was top shelf
Mr. Din a noted fan of gin and tonic
Liked to drink it till he's blind
washed the Thuggees off his mind
and emerged on to the street a catatonic
Things proceeded at this pace
Gunga frequented the place
the bartender went as far as saying: "buddy"
but you know, the story ends
they became the best of friends
Gunga Din, though, he came home, all dead and bloody
my muse, irate
can't concentrate
at any rate
she's not been great
I asked her: please
one masterpiece
don't be a tease
you write with ease
but she refused
said she's been used
I'm not amused
but she excused
her lack of will
on my poor skill
but said she will
if I distill
life to two words
put them to chords
I'll get awards
peer among lords
did not decline
I toe the line
my words divine
they're moon and shine
One thing he had
he called it free
for it was free
delivery
one thing to call
to change your tune
he wants to put it
on the Moon
one thing to read
most any book
he calls it Kindle
not a Nook
and one more thing
to rule them all
AWS
is what it's called
the red beret wants a parade
or at the least, a fair
to walk the street that lovers made
Champs-Élysées affair
it wants all that, but it stays mute
a Monday morning. The commute.
Author notes: image from pexels.com wc 36
up in the early morning light
the wonders of creation
the shadows interplay just right
the lens adept and patient
so that you too can say you've seen
the god she caught in her machine
Author notes: image from istockphoto.com
Oh, Camelot, I miss your pointed spires.
Your cobblestones, your walls, your castle gates.
The silhouette that animates, inspires
the best of us to challenge our own fates.
I miss King Arthur and his table round,
and Lancelot with his forbidden love.
Comradery and chivalry that bound
your knights to king and duty and above
all else, I miss your wizard's dragon speak.
Where are you Merlin, when we need you most?
You’re needed now! The answers that we seek
lie in the misty bogs that hide your ghost.
Come mage, Anál Nathrach and bring that sword!
Excalibur awaits its just reward.
Author notes: wc 105 image from Pinterest
they have no need to look, their hands will find each other
a common ritual, yet one that's always fresh
love, we hope unconditional, devoted, like our mother's
like when we first reached out to her, first steps back in the creche
they have no need to look, at all, and when their hands do meet
the moment's perfect. For that moment, life is complete.
Author notes: image from elitedaily.com