Archive | POETRY RSS feed for this section

Mossy Me

July 17, 2017 by Charron's Chatter Comments Off on Mossy Me


 
Unable to

commit to a Rock,

I picked me up a Pebble

Half the work of Rock
 
 
 
 
I pet it less for one

–which might account for

the fact it remains amorphous

when Rock took on a heart-shape after

a few

(dozen)

years

Pebble skips better, too, I’ve found

tossed from hard place

out to sea

–it breaches

like a teeny-tiny whale

hitting wave

after wave

)) after wave ))

its return concerns me less

then Rock

since I stroll a Gravel Strand

Pebble is grittier, too, by far,

scratching hands

to callous, and wearing

pocket thin

Pebble never trumps my

Pinking Shears,

or rounds out any paper,

skittering in

its role as pet,

I’ll have to

leave it

lie

(in time)

in Hour Glass that keeps

upending

eroding Pebbles

made of yore.

 

pet rock owner’s manual

POETRY

Monopoly on Peace

July 16, 2017 by Charron's Chatter Comments Off on Monopoly on Peace


I’ve sewn a tapestry. . .

with barrows of sh*t,

and lacking thimble

–it was a rug destined

to be pulled.

Unironed, and

flimsy defense

from cannon fire–

a cover ill-suited

to race cars

–and the drivers of race cars–

it resembled nothing so much

as a blanket for horse

–just that the rider stayed mounted–

as riders will

when shoes are mud-caked

and the ground beneath shifts

and teems with feral dogs

that snap at hoof,

but revisiting my top hat

(concealing hare, and colored veil)

I chuck it all

and vacation–

setting sail on battle ship

to nearby shore–

I jettison arms en route

–wreck lessly—

hanging onto

the thread

that weaves

~fashioning

different

life lines~

POETRY, VERSE

No Commute

July 15, 2017 by Charron's Chatter Comments Off on No Commute

you live

so close to

where I work,

and I work

so close

to where

you live,

and that’s half the battle, right?

If I could just

work you into

my life

life would

work out fine

in diamond lanes they might.

 

POETRY

Verite Tales

July 15, 2017 by Charron's Chatter Comments Off on Verite Tales

Charron

I faith leapt

–but trust fell

losing face

and footing. . .

taking steps

to right

my stride

imbued with

new

conviction. . .

you

make belief

a verity

smelting

fact

from fiction

POETRY

Volta in Motion

July 11, 2017 by Charron's Chatter Comments Off on Volta in Motion


 
cooled surface rock belying unrest

–of crucial components closed off in core

moss growing on mantle coating uproar

–that red-hot mettle in temporal chest

those mixed-up elements must decompress. . .

lest features be altered forever more,

to carving in stone, decrying before,

the state of all start, not meant for arrest
 
 
but where is the channel? None are in ground.

just fissures and fault-lines meeting the eye. . .

test now—by touching—it’s yet to be found,

step light and step quick–away but standby,

‘til smoldering molten fashions fresh mount–

and builds a new base that’s closer to sky.

POETRY

Looking glace

July 9, 2017 by Charron's Chatter Comments Off on Looking glace


I like French vanilla

better than

plain old vanilla and I

can’t figure why. . .

I suppose it isn’t imported still

maybe Notre Dame churns it,

or maybe

you can French Fry it like

that green tea treat–
 
 
or maybe it’s the custard base or maybe not

–since most chickens aren’t partial to eggs but

whatever it is,

it’s got this

je ne sais quoi

quality that surpasses

plain old vanilla

by meters. . .

kilometers even it’s

almost as bien

as the

Bean.

POETRY

Italian sonnet (working title)

July 6, 2017 by Charron's Chatter Comments Off on Italian sonnet (working title)

if conflict must be, we must be conflict.

Disdain truth through trial in ev’ry wise,

imagined aspect and unspoken prise.

Redundant the bored–decree and constrict

uncouth and ruthless, their affect afflicts,

established assembly in transparent guise–

united they win, divided we rise,

and surely such mire hides this edict.

Wood stripping the outgrowth redirect war?

and scatter the clan accustomed to dark.

Revealing the path to peace without door?

a bridge over bog–from timbre of bark.

whistling silenced, supplanted by horn. . .

a reveille call, unbard and unstarred.

POETRY, VERSE
Newer Entries
Older Entries