Monday, August 31, 2009

Seasons Fleeting

I dare not tread
among
young, fresh, green
for my Spring step
rests somewhere between
Summer and Autumn
these days.

Just wait.
Your delicate blossom
won't only droop
but one day drop

and only then
will our glasses meet
and chime
like Winter ice.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

For James Laughlin

Don’t tell me
You know pain
Unless you are
A parent who
Has lost a child
Or you have been
A child
Who watched
Their parents
Bury their child
And then had them
Look at you
As if they
Have seen a ghost.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

More Spam Poetry

Two in one week - YES!

Surprised Himself
From: Babula

She glanced at the young girl
pointing, with her keen gaze
words which seemed trivial enough.

Mary, her calm forehead
puckered with vague annoyance
disdained to analyze, understood perfectly.

Her hands resting idly
or smoothing the creases
out of her long, soft gloves

E will certainly come
It struck him that there was something
to be done

Ah, my aunt!" she cried impulsively,
"tell me what is to be done?
Lady Garnett glanced up

from the novel into
which she had subsided
with a sigh of relief

"now you are practical,
he has not proposed?"
Mary shook her head.


E will certainly come
It struck him that there was something
to be done

coming a little strangely
amidst the young girl's
girl's habitual reticence


"That is exactly
what I want to prevent"
Her smile had a very definite quality

"I would not cherish
any false hopes, my dear.
Charles Sylvester is a yo"


E will certainly come
It struck him that there was something
to be done


Board Girl



Thursday, August 13, 2009

I love Spam

A kooky spam paragraph came to my work email address today and while I have no idea what evil product or virus it is trying to trick me into opening,the word nerd in me really likes the far out Victorian vibe it accidentally dispenses. I chopped it up a bit and turned it into a poem of sorts. Maybe spam writers are the next beat generation?

E and Broth

From Heintz

Ster was looking distressed,
speaking French,
swimming in fierce waves,
and bathing in winds.

Mercurious E and Broth.

The pleasure of hunger
was easily satisfied
in the smoking hut
the Hunchback rakes ashes
and gave birth to fish.

Mercurious E and Broth.

Soft things, woven silk
frocks of fine texture
came from London.
Oh the beautiful colors.
So strange. So exotic.

Mercurious E and Broth.

But these are warn now
never replaced.
She never wore shoes
summer/winter
except for her Mother's funeral.

Mercurious E and Broth.

Invulnerable to stones
and bramble
her legs and feet were
tough and brown
but her father never realized.