Poets Final Resort!
This singular site tis
Of the world's best
Here self styled poets
Self mutually praise
And double their comment
Those like you and I
We finally lament.
Don’t be amazed
it’s not like other sites
where they only praise
And
Money you do so raise.
You have to read a lot friend
And
Don’t leave with tears
towards the end
As tears can be discomforting too
then don't say
Loved
Didn’t warn you
None the less
A happy innings

Your funny bone is plain to see
and tickles me with musely glee
oh, write for fun or fucks or tears
it all comes down to test of years
sometimes to shock is cause enough
to call your sullen reader's bluff
but when you give your reader humour
ideas can grow, much like a tumour.

THE SMELL OF DEAD RACCOON
Down a two-lane highway
one midnight near Macon, Georgia
an eighteen-wheeler came barreling through
like a bullet on a target straight and true.

the air was heavy with the smell
of dead raccoon.
warning to all woodland creatures
Death was speeding in their direction.

a deer at a crossing
heeding no warning
was found the next morning
wheel marks across his middle
and as most animals do
smelled a little like dead raccoon too.

Everyday, first love happens
and, someone says I felt a funny feeling
traveling through my body, when I saw you

There's something about a smile,
a twinkle in an eye or lab's beaker on a burner
cooking up a lover's brew
that makes first loves' unforgettable

Even when years pass like departed souls
and making memories with others
a passing glance is enough to rekindle sparks
for the one that got away

Night is your day
Stranded humans, your prey
Fascinating beauty
Seeming innocent display
Coded mode is your way

Lies fed unto hope
On tap in range and scope
Make-believe in nothing true
Enforced by petulant stubbornness
Leading nowhere to nothingness

A lion’s teeth on the nape to make it still
Indifference toughened stiff like steal
Victim drained of blood to lifelessness
Soul spirals into air, this earth my brother
Childless, O! Hear the cry of a mother

SOUTHERN BREEZES

southern charm and southern comfort

southern breezes and southern spices

scorching days and sultry waves

of cotton dresses

satin sheets in perfumed nights

passion’s fire seething into daylight.

I took in hand a block of wood
and looking at it long I stood
trying my best to see within
the hidden form, where to begin

At last I saw an inner bird
and muttered"hmph" no other word
then set out with my keen edged knife
to bring the wooden bird to life

As at my feet the shavings grew
the shape emerged I so well knew
with care I carved each curve and nook
regardless of the time it took

We all live on the same street
Our houses and lawns are so neat
We go to our jobs
Where they cut off our nobs
Then go home to our wives, so discrete.

He is North,
long, far up and cold
She, South,
sultry, sanguine and bold

the terrain is rough
none dare enter
He, tossing a
dime
and wishing for adventure

Bored, recalcitrant even spiteful
Life has handed him jokers
and many other causes-
Lost. Unmindful of his hurt
His need. His lonely longing.

pockets full of clouds
the shower of light
from the lamps
gleam like shards

I can feel the waves press
upon the solid shore
I can feel your breath
in the rains that fall
forever on this day

as if the sky were weeping
for winter that is lain aside
and heavens drizzle
staining all the tide
that lonesome haunt holds
fast

happy winter
will you love us at last??