little things

Poets Bond

~

I want to be a secret agent

Passport full of places went

Double O’Steven will be my name

Deeds done, others to blame

.

Gadgets in kit bond to tell

Code’s sheathed if to dwell

As a writer undercover I’ll be

A life expected in obscurity

.

Armed with poetic license to kill

Never the bullet only the quill

Hearts broken come with the job

Words unspoken said with a sob

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Cloaked with dagger to stabilize

Bored to tears obscure shaded eyes

Faceless unseen ready to pounce

Heads roll the tales announce

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Shadowy figures have no fear

When lights on them they disappear

This chapter unknown forever lurks

A page turned another’s in the works

 

~*~

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Little Dudes in my Head

Inward adventures in a cavernous space

Peeking through slits at upside-down space

Bouncing about in a big pile of goo

Any’s too many but none’s too few

~

I can never decide what I should say

I think the little dudes want it that way

They scurry about, finding things I forgot

At times they hide things, they should have not

~

Sometime they edit, sometimes they write

They’re always angry when I turn off the light

Sometimes they’re gone for weeks or more

When they return they’ve much to explore

~

Seldom if ever a good or kind word

I keep my mouth shut so they’re not heard

I scream in a whisper, they lull with a shout

They cause great sorrow but alone I’m without

~

Who’s good or bad is never quite clear

Repercussions of choice is what I fear

A constant tug-of-war, each has a side

I’m in the middle with nowhere to hide

~

Their kicking and screaming can be real bad

But more loyal friends I’ve never had

We all share the pain, though I the blame

We share a laugh that’s never the same

~

It could be worse, or so I’ve been told

I guess I’ll decide when we’re all old

~*~

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Exercise When

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There was a duck upon the fen,

eyed by a fox in the glen.

Dusk came, the time was then,

but the duck’s alerted by a wren.

~

The hungry fox returned to the den,

the chanced missed for what he does yen.

Morning comes the fox climbs the ben,

from its peak he sees a pen.

~

In this pen the tasty hen,

not just one but eight or ten.

The time was now, if not then when.

The fox is wise, it’s in their ken.

~

Though overlooked, the ken of men,

the fox still hungry but gained some Zen.

~*~

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Mindless Magnification

Sit with me or foe be you
Or stand will I and we be two
Thrust first if it be best
Twist your blade in my chest

`

Who shall be, shall be the test
Thou who not is soon to rest
I care not for what you do
I will win yet so may you

`

To test the will of a giant
Remembered always as defiant
Giants’ losers as always they be
Taking the time from you and me

`

Be this giant if you must
I’m at peace, you can trust
Eye to eye, perspective’s grand
I bear boulders, your grains of sand

`

Stomp, splatter, hurl or squish
Shortened wicks hasten a wish
Wind won’t silence, only time
Death lives on in a world sublime

`

Stand shall I – face to feet
Choice be yours, ends we’ll greet
Choice be quick, I’ve ends to meet
Choice be mine, please take a seat.

~

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What’s Up Doc?

~

I think we should all have bunny ears,

designating our merits over the years.

Lengths long lost hurting others,

heights higher helping sisters and brothers.

~

Success’s measured in fractions of a hair.

A few points added for additional flair.

Color’s welcome, natural’s best.

Blue’s unseen when none’s stressed.

~

A bunny ear board could endorse promotions.

The bunny brigade would enforce demotions.

The lazy whither though no harm’s done.

Evil ones snipped for they deserve none.

~

Straight-up or floppy, some tied in a knot,

eerie presentations always say a lot.

Sadness droops and lies alert,

the bigger the hop the less inert.

~

Nothing’s unheard of or misunderstood,

when all’s heard and all heard is good.

A world’s more sharing when more’s the same,

less careless flipping of coins for the game.

~

Life could be more than winning the bet,

when what you see is what you get.

That’s why I think we should all grow a pair.

Then tend our garden with the greatest of care.

~*~

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Plan B

I’m writing a poem with a camera obscurer

Alone in the dark with my pen and a mirror

I’ll copy all the words, line for line

Just shapes through a lens, better than mine

 ~

At the glass’s edge all becomes clear

Words arranged, scribed without fear

Reflections honest, colors vivid and true

Time imagined – visions of you

 ~

By hearth embraced for evermore

Framed with care, hung by the door

Shadows of day will come and go

Our depth’s captured, forever aglow

 ~*~

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Twas the Ale

Twas a fable yet scribed I chanced on a trail

Whilst adjusting lapels on my shiny chain-mail

Running behind by fast falling hail

When caught by surprise by a soon too late snail

Rushing past for the tour of a mighty blue whale

A little boy followed, arms all a flail

Yelling and screaming and waving a pail

Fearing for life, I ratted out the snail

Thus rightly rewarded a tasty round quail

I plucked a plume, it barked a wail

I flew to the pub and grabbed me an ale

I asked of bread, it answered stale

I ordered steak and was given kale

Complained to a waiter who proceeded to rail

Then I was bounced out, back onto the trail

Went in head first and came out on my tail

Now bumps and bruises read like braille

Poking and prodding will always fail

The highs and lows of a musical scale

Whilst the notes remaining  …  twas this tale

~*~

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Tis a Dali Recollection

Sitting quiet with an empty mug of Dali handled haste

Recollections of past mistakes, lessons not to waste

Bottoms dry, sticky drop sides, lip prints beckon more

Pouring fast without a rinse, that always forgotten chore

*

I pass the sink, I didn’t use, but visions tapped never forgotten

Fondly recalling a baby kitty, who with first glance I was smitten

She was a  tiny ball of ebony fluff that strayed from her mother

Found sickly and shy at a shelter, unwanted by all other

 *

Crusty with kitty litter and boogies I tried to give her a bath

And with a flash and a roar I released a pound of wrath

Water splashed and dishes flew as did my favorite mug

Later to be dissected from a wet and soapy rug

 *

Pieced back askew with frustration, dust, fur and fuzz

Now forever immortalized, better than it was

The glue eventually dried as did a smelly kitty snoozing on my lap

It would come to be her favorite place for a cozy nap

*

The mug still has some whiskers stuck in its bumpy glue

Though with each year passing it loses quite a few

Beloved kitty’s now passed after a long and happy stay

Leaving reminders of mistakes that came to be the better way

 *

Like the tasty sip’s that’s now savored from that Dali-handled mug

While quietly  savoring kitty’s memory with every wobbly chug

*

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