BASTARD sped clergymen
Sums collected,
Express traveled,
Strangely fantasied,
Possessed of idle dreams,
Not knowing, but full of fear.
Prophet me streets,
Sing in rude rhymes
To hundreds treading:
Highness up your crown.
-Job
(Remix poem based on excerpt from Shakespeare’s King John: Act 4, Scene 2)
A rather dull Friday
Look forward
To more drudgery
Stop!
Change is possible
Step out of the rut
Choose different
Choose life
Take a risk
Even if it terrifies you.
Great advice
But I am no knight.
-Job
Wings like clouds
Mount the wind
Shoulder the blue sky
Beat a whirlwind
Setting off a six month gale
When the bird looks down
All he sees is blue too
Water piled up
Deep enough to
Bear up the big boat.
Looking up
The cicada laughs.
-Job
(Cut-up poem based on Chuang Tzu)
Every time I butter toast
I think of you
And that morning
In the college canteen
When you taught me
Your secret method
To soften the fridge-cold
Foil wrapped butter tabs
By leaving them under those
Cheap leaky-spout teapots
For a few seconds.
I melted too but
Never told you.
-Job
Pink cherry blossom
Swaying
In a pale blue sky.
– Job
so much depends
upon
a red whip
baste
glazed with rampage
wave
beside the white
chimps
-Job
(N+15 Oulipo poem based on The Red Wheelbarrow by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS)
It was a really good Monday for being a Saturday. Nancy was on her whiskey diet. The elephant didn’t want to talk so he left the room. He was sure the Devil painted her blood red sparkly glitter. The old angel still enjoys his authority.
Nancy looked into the mirror on the wall and saw another person. It was her face, but someone else under the skin. Then she understood. She had just wanted a pet but ended up getting married.
Outside the raccoon attacked the trash. Let him eat. She looked up at the sky and saw a million dead stars. Her scream silenced the rowdy teenagers.
Choosing to do nothing is still a choice, after all.
-Job
All creative activity is a failed attempt to transcribe the texture of real lived human experience onto another surface. Even this. But we keep on trying.
-Job
Stepping out of his shining space-craft the space colonist surveys the horizon.
Barren rock under a metallic sky.
Not a sign of life.
Crashing to his knees in despair he shakes his fists at the clouds.
‘Damn it, damn it all to hell!
Not again.
I should have taken a left at Orion’s Belt!’
-Job
Image NASA: https://images.nasa.gov/details-PIA05108
Understanding ourselves and the world we live in.
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
Experiments in the Art of Mastering None
Rhymes and Reasons
Vibe alone for a while
builds stuff
Aspiring to be the best at writing. Poetry lover, haiku and free verse to be precise, I hope to one day master
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
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Dabbles in writing, loves music and nature. Sierra Leonean
Philosophy Professor & Philosophical Counselor - Dr. Elly Pirocacos
Stories of Adventure & Friendship
