Monday Syndrome
In the fleeting moments that fall
In between fleeing from one task to another
At the back of my mind, desparate, I wonder
How to freeze Time to an eternal Sunday!
Cheerful poems
Cheerful poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
Mirror images
At the fair, at my favorite stall with distorted mirrors
I look at
A squat me
A fat me
A looong me
A twisted me
A me I think me
A shattered me
A stretched me -
Suddenly-
the images begin to speak
They raise a finger at me
and says I am you you are me
I am you you are me -
I hide a smile -
They too...
Caught Behind
Every time I am caught
With my back to someone's camera
I look aghast
Refusing to believe, to accept
That the unfamiliar posterior of a human head
With dirty grey wisps of hair
Like an odd-looking horseshoe
Stuck on a hairless scalp
That reflects the light of the camera flash
Is really me
Hiding behind an anterior
I thought I knew all my life -
A view of myself that I will never see
With my own eyes...
Cycling on a Sunday Morning
Laboured breath, squeaking knees
Crunching pain in the lower back
Stench of garbage ride up the nose.
Passing by people, sleepy dogs
Newspaper boys whizzing by
Cycling, cycling, cycling
Cycling on a great Sunday morning.
Old men on cycles pedaling by
I could love them, warts and all.
Sticking up my nose at the bikes and cars
Cycling, cycling, cycling
Cycling on a good Sunday morning.
Smells of the sea wafting by
Drone of the jets sweeping by
Caw of the crows flying by
Roar of the waves lashing by
Monkeys in the Air
Somewhere among the treetops, a rustle.
Branches sway as if a little whirlwind hit.
Against the backlight of the sky, dark shadows
Jump; I look around, hold the bananas close to me.
Morsel in the Mouth
You can feel it with your tongue-
The more you feel it
The deeper it delves
Into the crevasses of your teeth
Entrenched, stuck
It becomes part
Of your molars or wisdom.
The surreptitious search
for a toothpick -
even a matchstick to ease
the discomfort -
to poke
to probe
to dig
to dislodge
to divest, finally
THE DRIVE
Today, aged forty-eight and few months,
I gained the right to drive a car.
A bit odd, it was, to stand amidst youth,
Grey haired, bald and a paunch to boot.
Like a baby taking its first steps,
I drove an H, snug, between iron rods.
Forward in first, backward in reverse,
Turn a right and then a left, do it twice for an H.
In the clutch, I sense the release
In the throttle, the urge to move.
Braking when enough, shifting,
Gears to change my pace.
Aged middle, I drove on the left
Steering myself steadily.
Off the middle, slightly to left
I drove as I have, all my life.
Falling
Like a bird in the sky
Like rain falling from a cloud
I am falling.
I fall as fast as I can
My arms and legs tucked in
I soar like an eagle
As I fall through the sky
When I pull the rip cord
I fall a lot slower
When I touch the ground
I know I am safe
And ready to do it
Again...
MANS BEST FRIEND
I play with you,
I stay with you,
I would do anything for you.
You are my master,
You and your family,
You treat me like one of your children.
Because I am.
But when times get rough and scary,
I act a little wack,
But I know you always love me,
Even when I attack.
I am your best friend,
And you are mine,
A bond stronger than all others,
I am,
Your dog.
Roses and violets
Roses are red
Violets are blue
That's what they say
but it just isn't true
Roses are red
and apples are too
But violets are violet
violets aren't blue
An orange is orange
but Greenland's not green
And pinkies aren't pink
what does it mean?
To say something's blue when it isn't, defiles it
But oh, what the heck, it's hard to rhyme "violet"
MAD MAN
I see patterns on the walls.
I see them on the floor.
I see them on the ceiling.
I see them on the door.
I don't know why i see these things,
Sometimes they're really scary.
These patterns try to tell me things,
Some things can be quite merry.
I've seen these patterns for a while now,
The doctor said it was fine.
They show me how to write a poem,
But i still don't know how to rhyme.
"Cold" -Eri
Pudding has told us
He used to live in a warm world where his fur would reflect the sun's heat
That's why it's so bright and stands out.
He tells us that earth is too cold
So he likes snuggling up on warm things
Today he crawled into the hot water heater and got stuck
He really
Really
Really
Doesn't like water.
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