Starting a thread of tiny poems

The oceans move like tongues in the earth’s shell.
Listen: it is the first speech, consonants
rolling over the bent world from drops of rain
fallen into the dust of trenches long drowned.
In its glossolalia you will hear
the voice of humankind gathered from shores
no longer shores, before the curse of Babel —
an infant’s voice, hands trying to point, fingers curled,
her feet kicks at the air for words outside the window.

Life is unfair.
Love is unfair.
We will just have to live with it.

(someone once told me...)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by firefangled

The oceans move like tongues in the earth’s shell.
Listen: it is the first speech, consonants
rolling over the bent world from drops of rain
fallen into the dust of trenches long drowned.
In its glossolalia you will hear
the voice of humankind gathered from shores
no longer shores, before the curse of Babel —
an infant’s voice, hands trying to point, fingers curled,
her feet kicks at the air for words outside the window.

---

Splendid!
Aunt Shecky

there is no waiting door,
nor near you (where
my breathing starts),

love begins:
never only,
only is

Une Dame d'un Certain Age

We all know about the "pause"--
But when does the (ahem) period
Come to a full stop?

Pinocchio in Senescence

Even as he warped and aged,
His knotty limbs stayed limber.
With the crickety bug
He still could cut a rug --
But a lumbering trip
would occasionally flip
the call of
"Timber!"

The Game Was Postponed,
But He Still Struck Out. . .Looking.

Some day (she said) we’ll have a hearth,
Just Yours and Mine.
Reflected in the fire’s glow,
Our glasses will clink and wave fine wine,
Not the cheap beer we so well know.
Outside a whippoorwill will trill
Under a star’s wistful flight.
The moon’ll blush full with our love’s thrill–
But, sorry, Honey, not tonight.

Aunt Shecky
All rights reserved.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by CdnReader

.

Love, like life,
is experienced
in the
in-between spaces.
The places we think
are too small....
The places we think
nothing can exist....
The places we sometimes
ignore
or
forget.

.
cdn/26aug07
.

.

The silence crowds out
the words that should be said.
Neither of us asks,
because neither of us
wants to answer.

.
cdn/10feb07
.

---

How true, how true! Good poetry! Really love this line: "Neither of us asks,
because neither of us
wants to answer."

That kind of expresses life condenssed.

Pen

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1.../Angelstar.gif

Ah... Pen..... You are so sweet. Thank you! :)

Sometimes in this light
a poem rises like dust
and I must hold my breath
and fill its spaces
with my words.

Our lives toss and turn around
much like stones in a
jeweller's tumbler
and when our edges
soften at last...
...what then?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by AuntShecky

Is the Florence poem yours. It's FABULOUS! And wonderfully tiny!

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Yup. Mine. Ta.

Had a sick grandbaby last night so I stopped by to
see him this morning.

Max

Little minds and little hands
Little kisses for me
Little feet and little arms
That hold me oh so tight

Little smiles and little eyes
That dance with delight
Cause Granny’s here
To play with you and
Make sure you’re alright

Little baby growing up
Soon to big to hold
Sit on my lap while you will
And be my baby tonight

Thanks, mom. He was so happy to see you! I'll keep this for when he gets bigger and he will feel special knowing you love him so much.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by firefangled

there is no waiting door,
nor near you (where
my breathing starts),

love begins:
never only,
only is

---

This one's a keeper, imo.



sour milk dropped
with sickening
solidity

into
a blue

pool

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by AuntShecky

Florence has gone
blond
she's gone

Florence was the good doctor's wife, wasn't she?
Elsie, the gal in the poem, "For Elsie," worked for the family.
more about the Koch parody: all from WCM's tiny poem about the plums in the ice box. Jack Paar, the late (in more ways than one) night talk show host, had a similar experience. He thought the dish in his wife's refrigerator was apricots. But they were egg yolks. I kid you not.

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Didn't notice this before.
Really? WCW's wife you mean? No, I didn't know that. Nice coincidence.

Plums in the icebox could so easily be a cure for impotence couldn't it? Sorry, I'm being childish. I put some plums in the icebox once when I was staying at my grandmother's house years ago. They were just as sweet and cold as WCW suggested.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by blp

sour milk dropped
with sickening
solidity

into
a blue

pool

---

fab poem blp