Circles can ellipse
Squares are diamonds on a tilt
The view’s up to you
~*~
sck112514
Circles can ellipse
Squares are diamonds on a tilt
The view’s up to you
~*~
sck112514
Soon it’s fall, but first back to school, days getting shorter, nights get cool. Then the winter and with it snow, wrapping the world in its glow.
We’ll build forts, make balls to throw. So many things to do in the snow, sledding and skiing, rolling in white. Hoping for more snow every night. Morning’s good news, stay home from class. Fun things to do with time to pass, make a snowman with rocks for eyes, that see’s all in cold winter skies.
We’ll stay in and play or just talk. Then shovel a long path to walk, to the street though nowhere to go. Everything’s closed because of the snow. Crusty piles; high, dirty and gray, wetter and smaller each new day. Snowman’s withered, springs on the way, time to make up for our snow day. Waking one morning, snow’s no more, instead there’s flowers by… |
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Reflections at night
Are disproportionately
Darker than the day
~*~
sck112314
Two lambs enter mass
The priest yells – “No sheep allowed”
The flock disappears
~
sck112314
Drawing lines.
Building shrines.
Slicing time.
Hiding grime.
Poets paint.
Painters rhyme.
Good guys kill,
for the crime.
Bad guys kill,
for the lust.
Bankers earn,
for the trust.
Numbers lie.
Trust we must.
Letters shade.
Muddles made.
Shades of gray.
Sunless day.
Stormy winds.
Erase our way.
Time will dawn.
New life drawn.
Drawing lines.
~*~
sck112214
Roses are red with leaf of green
Their thorns prick, barely seen
Beneath all beauty lie the dark
A field of dreams gone with a spark
~
Beauty’s a mask of colors we choose
Peel the drape and feel the ooze
Nightmares happen when we snooze
Rainbows lie, violets are blues
~*~
Sck112114
I think.
I write.
I think I write.
I write, I think.
I think I write to think.
~*~
Sck111814
Conformity bleeds souls
Souls bleed the heart
The heart bleeds blood
Blood bleeds life
Life bleeds insanity
Insanity bleeds ink
Ink bleeds poetry
Poetry bleeds puddles
Puddles don’t conform
*
Sck111814
To have audience
For this is thus that we must
Venture and truck on
~*~
sck111714
Purple skies yell good night to their dozing sun.
Fire lights the shadows, the nights day’s just begun.
Shades pulled on lives within without the stars to guide.
A ball is had in the deep, dancing to rhythms of tide.
Partners forever splash to wash away the light
Din of life slowly fades to the deafening of night.
Eyes shutter, Door hinges squeak there last, and new hands draw air.
Breathing in the day’s last taste, dark of night’s only fair.
While others rest, days run on to beat the clock.
Gates alive awake the walks to open doors that need no lock.
Welcoming all workers be, busily buzzing to make life sweet.
Nights or days at Hannah Belles employ a tasty treat.
Chimes ring out in the square, alerting all to what’s behind.
Reminding all of what’s ahead and afoot and to jog the mind.
Bottomless pools dot the streets, journeys take forever.
There’s joyous voices all around and angry silence never.
Another day in Hannahville, they feed the smiles everywhere.
This factory called Hannah Belle glows without a care.
Whether color gloss or moustache size, styles change, lips stay the same.
Visitors wait in a thin line to leave robust and always glad they came.
First chapter from Hannah Belles Silence (Charlie passes the candy torch)
Coming soon to virtual bookstore near you.
sck111414
Debates with oneself are too one-sided.
They’re always lost, can’t ever be won
and never untied.
If one’s to win what cannot be won than
one should not bait oneself.
sck111414
Bad Cells
Sat on a button
Put the devil on speaker
The world heard my sins
*
Forward
A place never left
Is a place you’ve never been
No past, no future
*
Flip
Life is bipolar
Freezing on top and bottom
Hot in the middle
~
Sck110814
Poet: Rises to all occasions then writes them down
Poetic begging: Being down on all meta-fours
Poetic license: No rules or tests, mirror-less, wheel-less and driving blind
*
sck110414
There was a young lad spoke limerick
His accent loud and bloody thick
He wrote with illiterate hand
Banged on drums in a band
Left his neighbors holding the stick
*
sck103114
There once was a Gent, half Irish.
Visiting mother’s Isle his only wish.
He half-assedly sailed the ocean deep.
Half way there drowned in his sleep.
That’s half the luck of the Irish.
*
Sck103114
There was a young crab on a beach
The tides left life out of reach
With lungs full of fear
And a head full of air
The shell had a lesson to teach
~
sck103014
Art – Getting ideas and generating questions
Design – Getting questions and generating ideas
Artists – People who work to think
Designers – People who think to work
Writers – Thinking people who question work
*
sck102414
Every Sunday me and my Pop
Take a walk to the old sundries shop
Winter’s in boots and summer flip-flops
Anytime to the Cherry on Top
*
It’s not just a store, it’s so much more
A magic box filled with sundries galore
It’s everyone’s first and their last stop
All the time at the Cherry on Top
*
Welcoming doors always polished bright
Welcoming all to their sundries delight
Every week is a brand new crop
Any time at the Cherry on Top
*
A place with things too many to list
Lipsticks for lips that want to be kissed
There are bouncing balls and bats that bop
All the time at the Cherry on Top
*
Combs and brushes for hair and teeth
Halloween treats and Holiday wreaths
Baskets for bunnies with ears that flop
Any time at the Cherry on Top
*
Row after row of this’s and that’s
There are racks for jackets, hooks for hats
Handles for brooms and buckets for mops
All the time at the Cherry on Top
*
There’s cases packed with trinkets so bright
Batteries stacked for flashlights at night
They’ve got cards to send and cards to swap
Any time at the Cherry on Top
*
Way at the back, there’s medicines there
Carefully mixed by people who care
They carefully measure, count and chop
All the time at the Cherry on Top
*
Then the place – my favorite of all
It’s the lunch-counter, where I sit tall
Serving pie with whipped cream and gumdrops
Any time at the Cherry on Top
*
They’ve cakes, cookies, turkey and roasts
My dad always gets; juice, eggs and toast
Sunday’s best at the old sundries Shoppe
I get my sundae, cherry on top
~
The End
.
Sck102314
Games of chance, won half at best
Players of games are gamed conquest
Cut a deuce and you should quit
Cut a Jack then maybe sit
~
Cut an Ace and be done
Cut two aces, better run
Games of chance are no game
Players who lose bear the blame
~
Sck102314
Back-story: Personal baggage packaged for presentation
Draft: Writers ecstasy of open windows
Rewrite: Washing windows for the outside
Edit: Scrubbing windows from the inside
Final: Chore of lugging a fan
Sck102214
Creativity: Unifying mental and physical chaos
Worldview: Canvas painted with our souls
Irony: Burning holes in permanent press
Pessimism: Painting watercolors in the rain
Poetry: Naked emotion wrapped in lace
sck102014
The sun’s beau
The winds foe
Decks glow
All to show
Raisins to sow
Tides to know
Men to grow
Neat hair bow
Tall tales flow
Never eats crow
No one’s schmoe
Mighty as a whales blow
A Skipper’s Joe
Gifts to bestow
Above and below
Much to owe
Life’s to stow
Lines to toe
Oceans to row
Be ready to go
Never say no
When a Bosun says so
Follow the ole Sea Pro
*
sck102014