30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)

[4degrees]

1
Ok for real this time


Faint thin smoke
Glides into my nose
Someone’s burning leaves
A lovely seasonal reminder
The colors, the crunching, the laughter
Wait, no I think
That’s not leaves
A tower of black smoke
Has been billowing
I can’t see the fire
Because I am the fire

 

[HarryHill]

Eight Ways a Week

That song keeps playing in my head,
I'm swimming alone, that damn undertow,
the cat's on a tear, Ku's in her chair.
Australian crawl.

 

[4degrees]

2
Typing some stupid words and call them a poem

Plagiarize your pretty
Hate machine
None of the kids
Would know
Although who knows
Some little goth
Always
‘Born too late’
Might recognize sanctified
Or terrible lies
But most likely,
The tired lines will
Bore the already-tired
Into a coma
Only to awake in
1990

 

[HarryHill]

Nine Supine

Laying on the bed, awake at this early hour,
eyes on the tiles above, hand on the one I love,
prone, silent, unmoving.

Poetry is the last thing on my mind in the non-light.
Coffee calls from the desk, just dregs but the pot is full,
twenty yards past, down steps I'm not ready to navigate.

The cat knows my eyes are open, stands on my chest.
'Purrett?' No, I'm not getting up. Biscuit massage.
Compliance.

 

[4degrees]

Third time and charming
Like that tuxedo cat
The one that squints
And purrs at your words

The joy past felt
For years
In this glorious season
Of changes
Has been stolen
By the dark skies
Over the seas

 

[butters]

#2-1

the joys of animals


ears abuzz all day
from a night spent listening
(between snatches of sleep)
to barking dogs

while nursing twin aches
running neck-shoulders-elbows
(that barrel was heavy—
and i was too stubborn)

cat dozed alongside
or paced hip to knee
seeking attention
or an early out

and come 4.30
after a wealth of fidgeting
seismic shifting of covers
talking loudly to cat
the man brightly says 'Hi, Ku'
announces 'I'm awake!'
and i'm like... "really???
reallllllllllllly?????"
*groans*

 

[HarryHill]

Ten Hand Job

I wonder if there's been comment
on any particular style five digits can retire,
a hard dick and the mind inside.

A simple tug can sink that boat if time is of the essence,
but if ones in no hurry, don't you think we could define,
descriptions of the shipwreck and survivors left behind?

I want a soft kitty,
talk to it babe,
pet it like a cat,
please save that hot breath for last.
Miaou.

I want a slicky.
I want a soft kitty w/a cherry on top.
I want a two hand ablution w/a flutter;
say you won't believe me butters,

Cheap rhyme. My dime

 

[4degrees]

4
Silouhettes impossible to touch
The people and creatures
Are only just shadows
From a past with light
Today nothing reflects
From brightness,
Shadows just get blacker
As I travel further
In this dream tunnel

 

[butters]

#2-2

there are days
i celebrate the size
of North America
and
no matter how short
a space on a map
key issues
mean we're well away
from
Ian's bawling wrath
even though i follow its approach
in staggered increments—
approach, landfall, north-easterly track—
with a too-human mix
curiosity and horror
its sights and sounds
rampant devastation
right here in our living room
our roof stays put
loved ones safe
my feet remain dry
even if my eyes water

 

[HarryHill]

Eleven Evenings

We're all tucked in, the tube is on.
sun is gone it won't be long,
bourbon poured, glasses raised,
cheers.

Bed is waiting, duvet thrown,
haphazard over the pillow top,
cat curled at a corner.
It's been a long day.

As I type line by line,
bad poetry and horrendous rhyme,
I wonder, just what the hell the cats been doing
to fall asleep so soon.

 

[4degrees]

5
Speeding into the sunset side
Riding rails like a bandit
West side is the upside and
The story doesn’t end
It just blends
Into future, it’s like
A Gradient of flesh tones
Each side a different
Compartment of the time
That I spend here on earth
There is no rebirth.

 

[butters]

#2-3

landlocked in Tennessee

when i take a moment
to sit
sip coffee
look up
i'm surprised by the shade
one that takes me back
way back
falling up
into that intense
inimitable
bolt of cloudless blue

stunning backdrop
to dancing greens in various tones
and a sun too bright to squint at

heat radiates from tin wall
i'm floating a little left of real
and on the greenhouse plastic skin
a million, million brilliant glints
ripple in the breeze

if i allow
eyelids to most-part close
permit
memory-imagination meld
salt is conjured in the air
warm breath of cotton candy as it's spun
seagulls and carnival laughter—
with a smile
embrace the ride

 

[HarryHill]

Twelve Shelves

Some projects have their own lives,
complete themselves with damn little help,
others you have to push or shove,
herd toward the finish line.

No love lost on the recalcitrant,
Hard work and all that jive,
the really obstinate ones go on the shelf.

 

[HarryHill]

Thirteen Green Egg Pancakes

I know, I know; the batter was a little thin,
but there's such a fine line sometimes,
and once the wet goes in no more dry can arrive.

A sample between flip and plate,
showed promise and a buttery taste,
breakfast's saved it a'int too late.
Raisons await their fate.
Scatter.

The cook ate last as was his due,
alone in the kitchen w/the residue,
washed the damage, ran away.

 

[butters]

#2-4

a minor squall on a sunny day

hands up which husbands
think threatening to shoot the wife's dog
might get a testy response
even if it were a hypothetical
choice between YOUR WIFE'S dog and a bunch of chickens?

yeah... i see a host of waving palms
and this ain't Ian kissin' Floriduh

but blue skies prevail
and proper fencing's installed
3 metal posts, some wire and a gateway
dirt and sweat and ire washed away
on a raft of coffee and a grand plate of pancakes
like only he produces
(with a little help from the chickens)

everyone's happy
chooks in their new yard
(they've refused
point blank
to use the one we made earlier)
us inside and cozy
the only shots around
are the whiskey kind
with no dogs harmed in the making of this poem

 

[4degrees]

6
6
6
Ooh inspire me,
Lana Delray
Teach me to ride,
Show the way
A dirty desert cruiser
Dusting up the squalor
Posing like an Angel
Like the Angel that you are
You are my,
Just ride
I dropped my heart
When I crossed your border
Heard its fall into the water
A full thick muscle
Just sinking like lead
Sing me, baby
Before it’s too late
Before I lose my head.

 

[butters]

#2-5

the nature of balancing acts and the nature of pi(e)

it's a constant war
though battles may be spaced
wide apart

turbulence between isobars
a seeking of the median

climatic swings
between baked and frozen
a pendulum in time

the problems
of water
when it comes to feeding a world

protecting that balance
of gases in our atmosphere

a nation's wellbeing
dependent on struggles to educate

pressure of blood
as it courses miles of veins
a conflict that determines
the health of a body

but right now
i may have a small win
to pin on my chest
in an incident fought
on multiple levels
between pliant and crumbly
firm and tender
sour and sweet...
but then again
when palates aren't in sync
it's too soon for that victory lap:
one has to count clean spoons
empty bowls
second helpings

 

[HarryHill]

Fourteen, Free Parking

warm down by the river,
such a peaceful spot,
old stones a sunning,
inside and out.

Summers rowdies in the shade,
primping feathers, lucky ducks,
pond full but empty of no other,
lawns clear.
Breathe in.
Do not pass Go.

Who knew free parking had a time limit?
Life sure has strange rules, innit?
Start the car.
Roll again.

 

[HarryHill]

Fifteen, El Medio del Océano

It's calm out here, sails limp,
no beachhead in sight.
Sunrise soon, just a hint of color.
First light.

With the sun comes a breeze,
tack east toward landfall,
sweet water, and homecoming.

 

[4degrees]

1
I’m ok with starting over
I’m ok with beginning again
I’m ok about being busy as fuck
I’m still going to do this shit
And wrestle with myself
About all the ways to not say
Anything concerning love
Because that’s some sleepy shit

 

[4degrees]

2
Anxious ants hard at work
Those transparent ones
That make me swat
At the tickles

I remember the grounding
I remember counting down
From five
It was your nerves, then
I remember thinking, I know what crazy is
Today it’s like some stranger
Some exotic alien
Pressing to me with black lips
Sucking out my last breath

 

[HarryHill]

Sixteen, Downstroke

She lays, legs open, chest heaving,
skin wet from tongue, please on her lips,
eyes on cock as I kneel between her thighs.
I can't tease any longer.

 

[4degrees]

3
In the days of darker dreamer
Pushing me to push the
Envelope with my words inside
Resurrect his moniker
He will remind me
How overthought
Is underneath everyone
Causing a thick sticky layer
Of shit to convolute
The meaning of anyone’s words

 

[HarryHill]

Seventeen, Whole lot of Rosie

She's a white furry puddle in the middle of the yard,
busy all night, yeah Rosie works real hard,
protecting her domain from the countryside.

When the sun's too hot she has to hide,
deep in the shadows of the cedar trees,
it's a dogs life, you have to agree
hard to beat one like our Rosie.

 

[HarryHill]

Eighteen Minutes Later

I had a title but silence between my ears,
continuing now lost the thought to fear,
all missives will come to naught,
and punctuation, you know,
has poetic faults.
comma
,
now
She thinks,
Oh yeah, baby.
I need some of that punctuation.
But first, give me a kiss right down there.