Morning (non-Haiku) Triku – Pearls of Wisdom

~

That Stinks

If the world were my

oyster, I’d be shucked, since I

don’t enjoy seafood.

~

Shaping Reality

Pearls true round seldom found,

they are but nature’s waste.

More are found truer round,

when man made of cheaper paste.

~

Appraising Tomorrow

Diamond’s when new sell quite a few.

Yet these gems of old are barely sold.

~*~

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Untamable

~

Near two centuries standing tall

Perched upon its foundation wall

Stone and rock stacked one at a time

Cracks are filled with mortar and lime

.

Plantings and pruning’s since time’s begun

Nature’s matured, the house and it one

Repairs are always but never to date

A new one’s found just of late

.

It seems there’s a door that escaped my gaze

It’s probably been there for days and days

It welcomed a visitor though I not aware

There’s plenty of room but I’d rather not share

.

A bed was found of rags and fleece

A trap was set for catch and release

The morning came and the trap’s shut tight

Catching the culprit that roams in the night

.

The walk was had on path well worn

Evicting another, my heart is torn

Bound in plastic to hide from the eye

Soon they’ll welcome the bright blue sky

.

With a careful flick and gentle tap

Out popped an alien from its trap

Oh what to do, Oh what to do

The mouse I caught is a shrew

.

Research was done, panic’s at rest

Contemplations had of what will be best

Plans conceived to search for the door

Or wait for winter when the problem’s no more

~*~

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Memorial Cliché

~

 A mean and petty old boss I once had,

made threats to all when he was mad.

“My pen’s mightier than the sword!” he’d say

“Bad recommendations will affect your pay.”

He was always looking to pick a fight.

So with my pen I poked him – to find he’s right.

~*~

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Poetic Fiction

~

If you’re in no hurry to go

then I’m in no hurry to stay

I’ll pack up my belongings

and be out by the end of the day

.

You can’t ever keep a job

Or even wash the clothes

Our meals served at the drive-thru

That’s where the money goes

.

The few dollars that remain

Is always spent on ink

The few hours that we share

Always your time to think

.

You lock yourself in a room

There you laugh, scream and cry

While I long for the silence

When one of us will die

.

If not for crumpled notes

Our stove would be always cold

Your hot and chilled emotions

Once steamy have gotten old

.

We haven’t kissed in a week

There’s been no love for a year

I’ve now begun to wonder

If love was ever there

.

Now you say you wrote a poem

That all the world should see

It’s a poem of love and devotion

But this one’s just for me

.

If these words of passion

Are as true as you say

Rumpled sheets await

There’s no need to leave today

.

But if they’re not

as all other times before

My future will unfold

beyond your paper door

~*~

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