Acorn new

What a fresh acorn
I will varnish it, to keep
it always a new

Inspireed by Rules of Stupid ,Stephen Kellog and Susan Daniels and also

Inspired by the theme at

Related articles

• Acorn Haiku – A Poem (ruleofstupid.wordpress.com)

One is

One is bleak
and San grail
like the last golden cup
of youth
did you want to love, live
or even tell me more
holy blood, Grail
a lie a hoax
One is bleak dark
a lie, resting in a storm
did you prepare
my diminishing
entitlement

too that man in black
may he ever wear
a suit of rainbows
where I see a shade
of purple that I have
never seen
before

I am thinking of her knickers

There is no two ways about it
I think about these often
and do they match
what’s up above

It is easy for me
my pants are black
and two pairs of jeans
both grey, no thinking
involved

But she wants to look
good, be fine for my
eyes to drink eddies in
so I think about her knickers
do they match what
is up above

Some of you do this too
don’t deny it, just human
nature to wonder on skin
and its covering
are they black, grey or see thru

So I am thinking of her knickers
and maybe her feet too

Occupied

Time is biting me whence I know I’m not time less I’m instead placed in it firmly
ferment and filaments adjusting. This style is not mine not one I tried but the pacing has begun
like a scorpionic eagle grounded and
waiting like
a tamed troubadour
my head like the clothes
in the washing machine, spinning but with the purpose of becoming clean, fresher but weighted by
the rinse water of that last cycle before the door lets them go, released freed and then further captured on drying devices paraded even.
drying on
the radiator
displayed
sameness, roughness
and softness
all displayed like grey jeans and work clothes which uniform and conform to what rules
can be followed or swallowed even durance of that is less potable than the stain that still remains
and the offending item is consigned to a second wash and drying.

my head my thinking
is fine it’s well con –
– structed

but a little powder residue is always left behind in the draw
with tiny
white specks
and the scent of freshness
flows up each nostril
mixing with
my smoke

Wooing

If any one says wooing
is easy, I will say they are fecking stupid
that they haven’t got it their just tiring to get laid
Wooing is hard. Did you come across too annoying
or too lame, these are problems
problems to which I have no solutions.
You just have to go with it and learn
that wooing is hard

there are pauses awkward silences
‘ Oh crap did I feck up’
Yep times like that
are problems – Black knickers
You say, do I say I’d whip them off
or sweet mine match

there’s no two ways
around it wooing is hard
and Wooing is what
I really need to do

Ms’s Ditties

It was a lovely little ditty
that I wrote in a jiffy
but things got iffy
I rhymed the end with her

well presented hands

 

 

I have to say I was quite surprised
when I looked so longing in her eyes
that the beauty was fast surmised

no translator so I went to bed

 
It must have been in some remit
that form of broken down kismet
and quite true of this kindly twit

but to get a feel of her warm…

… smile

 

 

quick as a flash
I made the dash
tripped over a bit
and landed on her

Shocked surprise

I want translation

I want to see you
come out of the shower
all water swept

And imperfect
washed and hair
not controlled

slightly embossed
I am seeing you
in just this way

with your white
bath towel on
and blushing bashful

And I will pretend
to turn away disinterested
but you must guess I’m not

it is a game
that is not engaged
wholly where

language is so difficult
I wish I could swap
Polish for English

you’ve signed
up for English
how perfect

I could meet you in the middle

Rain bows in the hair

And the summer world
crawls under the sublime
where the hunters
of the rainbows

harpoons the sky
in an attempt
to capture wisdom
but fails to hold beauty

there they forget
that rain bows in the hair
and plastic talismans
can shine as bright

she will not be coo’d
in that unforgiving fashion
knowing the secrets of the storm
better to kneel  and care

It was but a dream I had
was nothing important

because Fridays not over

because Fridays not over

 

 

just one more, later back to some poetry – Noting really matters but moi

any way the wind blows
or sucks
or swims
or keels ole’ mean men
with strings of control
kippers dawn raid
cloud nine of nails
on a string
bale out – of my time
come again come again
that cloud nine
pain of mine – buried on cloud
nine or some other fore iron
tee off tee on
you may make it
or quit cloud nine
[insert instrumental pause here]
gone troppo for sure
eyes open wide – not a thing
do I truly own
a white flag, is sewn

Strangely Daisy

Daisy daisy on the chair, I saw you there I saw you there
Daisy weed white n’ yellow, still I kicked you in
I did this purely to stain the green, when I saw you there
I had a care, I had a care that when I saw you there
Sitting on the chair, stringy thing how you dare
I smashed your yellow face in, with my boot
and smeared you across the chair, daisy’ly mistreated
I could have just brushed you off, but felt the need to break you
Every gentle petal that could have butterfly bleated
daisy daisy, I like your stain, it is arty’ly compleated
morning time, lunchtime, now never ever seated
your life was brief and you were unique, but not now repeated

Daisy daisy to no chain will you fall, tied  in
a stain on my sole, never a poppy on a pin
your irrelevant relevance, not lost to me
now you’re gone from all that you could be

V.1.2