Running Poetry Thread

[Tom Bomb]

I'm flabbergasted. Thanks for putting that to rest

Hats off! Deep bows! Wizard of a visual pun poem! I actually chortled out loud!

But!

Even though I haven't sight-read in years, and not on a regular basis since high school, I saw an immediate flaw...

While this works (well!) in Treble clef, we're BASS players! No clef was specified, so we assume Bass clef.

D would not be:

---
-o-
---
---
---

^That^ is an F. D would be:

---
---
-o-
---
---

So, naturally, we read the visual as "F pressed deep!"

You'd think this was a silly nitpick, but if I saw it immediately, and had to stop and mentally re-group... someone else will, too.

If you run across someone who reads Baritone, Tenor or Soprano clef, then all bets are off...

 

[Volker Kirstein]

I'm flabbergasted. Thanks for putting that to rest

​

Don't be! It's great! I'm just an anal retentive nitpicker. (And I see what you did there, too!)

 

[Tom Bomb]

Don't be! It's great! I'm just an anal retentive nitpicker. (And I see what you did there, too!)

You're telling me ​

 

[Volker Kirstein]

FADED

The shirt I wear is faded
And parting at the seams
The reason I still wear it
Is that you gave it to me
It has so many memories
Of things we used to do
When I feel it touch me
I imagine I'm still touched by you

 

[Tom Bomb]

Angel at my table

nourishing November rain

stains your photograph

​

 

[Volker Kirstein]

GEOGRAPHY, CARTOGRAPHY, CALLIGRAPHY

Silence envelops me
Except for my own breath, rasping
Overhead the stars disappear one by one
As darkness fades ever quicker
Racing down the spectrum
Peaks glowering rosy burst ruby
Against crimson-streaked turquoise sky
Mountains turn to shining gold
Shadows race down laughing
Emerald capped with white
A Jay chuckles at me
“Foolish man!” he seems to say
I return his laugh softly
Little more than a billowing of my breath
As fat ol’ sun hits me square in the face
My eyes squint shut, and I see red
I feel the heat of her rays
I pull out my compass – battered and worn
I see the nipple on the southern peak through the peep
Grease numbers onto plastic
I see the nipple on the other peak – more numb3rs
Enough; I am where I need to be
I scoop snow to make a large bowl
And low walls
And I wait
The wind soft on my face
Breath billows behind me
And I wait
Slowly birdsong fills the air
The sun rises higher
There! No hesitation
My rifle comes up
My scope centers on his chest
My breath leaves my lungs
My finger squeezes
His heart stops
Red calligraphy in the snow
As I approach his trembling body
I watch calmly as his eyes glaze
And the last breath leaves his body
And I wait
I smoke a cigarette
The fun is over, now comes work
But you dont need to know
The gory details
Suffice to say:
Meat in the freezer
And an elk jacket

 

[Tom Bomb]

"“Foolish man!” he seems to say"

I seem to remember prompting him
​

 

[Tom Bomb]

l e s s

​

 

[Volker Kirstein]

 

[Discount Bassy]

Inarticulate
Shadow of a broken man,
Quick tempered to boot.

 

[Tom Bomb]

Armour Bluebird

Pickup interference,
Radio therapy
Laid 'em on the green.

Arm a bluebird,
Arm a bluebird,
Where the bluebirds?
They're there.
​

 

[Volker Kirstein]

HAIKU 333

I just want to say
With the weather warming up
Hooray for boobies!

 

[Tom Bomb]

Nice! You moob me
​

 

[rtslinger]

okay I'm in
a published work

A poem by Rob Pizapio (C) 04-08-2014

HOME

The daylight break has brought me home

To the very place where I was born

The house is dark the curtains are drawn

I can’t believe this was my house I gaze upon

The silence is deafening as I stand inside

It is the same as they left it I nearly cried

Thinking of the times good and bad

Even the joyous memories now make me sad

I can almost hear the laughter inside my head

But it is soon fill with silence once again

As I step outside for the very last time

I will always remember you as home deep in my mind

 

[rtslinger]

Got one more for you
poem by Rob Pizapio (C) 12-22-2021

The end of days?

With the impending demise scheduled soon/ Do we have what it takes to stop the doom?

Has the planet gone so far astray/ we can’t stop this it’s dying day.

Had the time been different and the events prolonged/ May be I wouldn’t be here writing this poem

But with the end drawing closer each and every day/ is it time to drop to your knees and pray to the sky?

or put your head between your legs and kiss you’re a@@ goodbye.

Well when the calendar ends and sky turns dark/ Large blue star will appear to lend to the shock

Is this the second coming the star in the night/ Or will this star bring about the plight? /

Will it shine down as a guiding light/ or will it kill us where we stand/ and make true the Hopi prophecy

The end of life/ is it time to drop to your knees and pray to the sky?

or put your head between your legs and kiss you’re a@@ goodbye.

What if the prophecies were wrong and the end of days doesn’t come along/ I hope for your sake I’m right and there wrong

And we can all rejoice tonight no need to drop to your knees and pray to the sky if this isn’t your dying day you won’t need to kiss you’re a@@ goodbye.

 

[Volker Kirstein]

FIRST SNOW
(Oct 9, 2013 - Wolseley, SK)


— Round Side Down —

The voice in my head tells me:
Put the toast in the toaster; round side down
It’s not my voice
Whispering behind thoughts
Put the toast in the toaster; round side down
It comes again
Put the toast in the toaster; round side down
Hunger rumbles in my soul
Put the toast in the toaster; round side down
Relentlessly it urges
Put the toast in the toaster; round side down
I grab some slices of raisin bread
Put the toast in the toaster; round side down
PUT THE TOAST IN THE TOASTER; ROUND SIDE DOWN!

I give in
I put the slices in the toaster
Round side down
My mind whirls as I wait
Smelling the bread begin to brown
Raisins becoming moist bombs
It comes out
Butter is applied
Cinnamon and sugar, too
I bite
It tastes the same

— Segue Tryptich —

Sweet warm crunchiness
Delicious hot explosions
Damn I make good toast!

My jacket comes on
Go outside to smoke after
Air biting crisply

I cough to get off
Feel a small icy pinprick
Brush my face gently

— First Snow —

My eyes rose wondrously to the night
And in my flickering circle of light
Fairies danced silently
Miniscule dancers in mad tarantella
Drifting in breezes being blown helter skelter
Fairies danced silently
I exhale a cloud into their midst
And watch some die and turn to mist
Quickly the void begins to fill
As more fairies come until
Fairies danced silently
Many die upon my cheek
My eyes mist up, begin to leak
Damn this is some mighty fine weed
I rub my eyes and look again to see
Fairies danced silently

— Round Side Down, Again —

The voice is back
Cut off the neighbor’s head!
Put it in the freezer; round side down!

 

[Discount Bassy]

Things are getting worse.
The Plateau of Bad is gone.
Now comes the fun part.

 

[Volker Kirstein]

ODE TO A BOOGER

I love it when I pick my nose
And the booger has a string
A long, thick, gnarly mucous hose
Reaching almost to the brain
It feels so cool when it comes out
Sliding slowly along the sinus
Leaving me with little doubt
This was one of the the finest

 

[Winslow]

ODE TO A BOOGER

I love it when I pick my nose
And the booger has a string
A long, thick, gnarly mucous hose
Reaching almost to the brain
It feels so cool when it comes out
Sliding slowly along the sinus
Leaving me with little doubt
This was one of the the finest

I know exactly what you mean,
My mucosal brother.
Though it's broderline obscene,
'Tis' not like any other.




(You're welcome, internet.)

 

[Discount Bassy]

Booger, booger, on the wall:
Whoever placed you must be tall.
It could be they're short and thick.
All it'd take is one good flick.