Poems

Milli Vanilli
pivot to rockabilly
true? no, not really

can a poem make you bleed?

as I risk a paper cut
leafing through these stylized pages
by pontificating sages
even those that time forgot
writing was their only creed...

they are likely to succeed

but their chance is sure to dwindle
were I switching to a Kindle

wishful thinking yields to orders
tanks are crossing over borders
echoes of forgotten wars
as the bear, defiant, roars

would that we were as we should
but we've learned all the wrong lessons
weakness always gets aggression
while we navel gaze and brood

when they said: come feed the lion
I was proud, I won't be lying
and I got there at 1:30
nice big cage, a little dirty
feed what food, I asked the crew
oh, they said, the food is you

Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2800069-The-place-and-time-poetry-prompt-edition-5

the greys invade a corner of my eye
and spreading quickly, conquer the whole view
the roses that I brought soon lose their hue
and not a minute yet since your goodbye

I glance around our favorite café
the place where I first dared to hold your hand
the words -- it's over -- silencing the band
I see them but I cannot hear them play

the waiter's saying something, it appears
"would that be all, sir" penetrates at last
I look at him, incredulous: how fast
is everyone to celebrate my tears

my senses start recovering their cues
the band is playing Armstrong, but of course
the trees outside turn green, and his voice, hoarse
sings of red roses -- those don't lose their hues

Author notes: wc 126

I'm made from memories and scars
from wishful toasts and smoked cigars
the sum of many, many bets
some disappointments, some regrets
but mostly, from a simple want
for now you see me -- now you don't

Chameleons and octopi adapt,
absorb the feel and texture of a surface.
The rest of us, we cannot change, we're trapped,
though oftentimes we can conceal our purpose.

Locked in our earthly form, we seek rebirth.
"Beware", we say, "beware, remember karma",
and hope that faith and spiritual worth
make up for lack of camouflage or armor.

We fail, then look for complicated plots.
Conspiracies and secrets all around us,
we labor to unite, connect the dots,
and ways to better hide.  Oh no, they've found us!

Chameleons, their karma on display.
Some days they're predators.  Some days they're prey.

the land rebels as though it's cursed
his weathered face has seen its worst
and on his gravestone epitaph
there's just one line

the grapes of wrath

As leaves fall off my calendar, I find myself an islander
connections to the mainland are slow and far between

I don't resent the ferryman.  He executes a master plan.
Still I do wish the ferry was nowhere to be seen

Author notes: image from hermoney.com

fumbles exist to keep you humble
stumbles remind you -- mind the street
but if your stomach grum-or-rumbles
you best be nimble on your feet

Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2799952-Fumble--brevity-30-words-or-less-can-contai

does the devil know love?
chased from heaven above
he's no stranger to its mechanism

but a selfless devotion
requiring no potion
like a rainbow adoring its prism

does a shadowless blight
eschew daylight for night
to avoid seeing or being seen

or a thunderous cloud
air obnoxious and loud
strike a lightning to smite the obscene

this I ponder, and more
as I lie here -- adore
your sweet rose, though it's so full of thorns

does the devil know love?
all that he's dreaming of
let's have at it, but do mind the horns

spring is in my steps
jumping puddle to puddle
childhood memories