Hello,
I hope you understand that simply had to be the title of this post.
To start, I was recently challenged to make movie titles, given rapidly, into porno names as quickly as I could. NOTE: This was a boast I made.
Although I did quite well (with a low being The Boobsic Man: A Boobsical), I was stumped on one front. The Color Purple. However I, since returning home, realized.....that IS a porno title by itself. THE BATTLE IS STILL MINE!
*****
In exhilarating other news I have decided to get a new piece of furniture for my living room/entire apartment, amid much controversy. The contentious issue is fairly basic. Where am I going to ballroom dance? ...while that still is an issue I have decided to forgo (for the time being) that luxury and invest in some sitting. Currently,(so currently that I'm sitting on it now...which is what she said) I have to rest my weary bones, only a bed and a floor. Picking the more logical of the two most times I find many things are made more difficult. Eating AND baseball are both tough from a semi-laid down position. Although, generally, it is where I do of my best work...BOOYAH.
Aside from that paragraph being one long naughty joke other things are quite well too reader. I'm reminded often of memories past it seems. Even though one braces for change and pushes/pulls it is still difficult to live them. Personally, I find completely losing yourself in your work to be the most challenging. That threat, especially for me, perhaps might be the most off-putting. I've been doing sit-ups for many years and it has lent me a stomach worth showing off. Now it seems, work and societal endeavors tear my away from the world/beach. Alas, worry not 98 pound weaklings....your 99 pound superior will return to you soon. Of that I assure you.
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Whippoorwills and Blue Bonnets, break softly into cool summer air,
Sharing a softness made softer by gentle, blonde hair.
Leading and leaning, spiking and sway,
Shiver and tremble, embrace and then lay.
Blankets made soft, worn with touch and with use,
The reds and the blues, untangling, becoming quite loose.
A hodgepodge of feelings, a mishmash of song,
Lays still in light summer air,
but it won't lay for long.
A shadow, some rust, a trinket or two,
A brass bells strikes clearly, through crisp air it flew.
Sharp summer fancies, warm melodies past,
Birth more brief Septembers, perhaps some one's last.
*****
I also hate sap.
Cheers,
Andrew
3 comments:
i hate sap too
I really like your poem . . . and actually I like sap . . . but tree sap, on the other hand, is another story (too sticky)
given the time of year your poem really sruck me- in a good, not violent way- now make it into a porn poem.
In all nonseriousness, perhaps what makes this whole journey meaningfull is it's fragility and I think the poem captures the sweet and bittersweet nature of all of us.
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