The day the hour,
The meat the shower,
Show no oscillating octopus to an octagonal obelisk and eat a Greek tortilla upside down in a second. It is wiser to tread lightly in a miller’s abode. Round and round the turrets go those turtles so mind your footing for shells can be slippery really.
When shopping for an Aberdeen Angus bull it is wise to carry an umbrella as showers can occur from any lengths of tail thus rendering talismans useless and a fruit fly would remark that a plate of steamed rice is simply not that exciting really so now after all that information you can leapfrog over the dandelions wearing a cotton pair of anglers waders and a fish hat with or without fins.
X anthropomorphic creatures X
I
Never one to shackle one with the past
Yet humans use words to distort
Time, our guilt or responsibility
In that sense, the Past is a scapegoat
An escape route, and inconsistent ally:
If one has/ had parents, one has a past
And we give it life with our names ...
When we use any names, biological
Or anthropological, or political (Malcolm X)
The past is deployed - a battleship of peace and war
II
God has a Past (faithfulness) yet is timeless
Not shackled by time; the Passover
Cannot be passed over or passed by
Even as Past History of Hebrews escaping
Egypt, superpower of the day
If you have skeletons you're hiding
You may say LET the PAST BURY ITSELF
It can't be done
Face it, repent, and enjoy PRESENT Presents
Of a cleaner conscience, trust, open relationships
The PAST is the (steamship or) airship
That brought you here: face this time with truth
Steadied by anthropological roots,
the strong influence gained in Kishamish,
flitting in and out of light and darkness
while harvesting the fields of literature
she delved into the depths of cultural
diversity, the political strength
of peaceful and ecological themes,
dialogue, balanced ideologies,
oriental spiritualism. She
blended science, fiction and fantasy
and harped on environmental issues,
feminism, sexual identity.
Her faithful pen a constant companion
in a long journey of exploration.
Hers, a brimful life with No time to Spare .
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest hosted by Debbie Guzzi
Placed 4th
© 28th February 2018
Dick Burton examining Liz Taylor's rectal sphincter for blood.
That's love.
Sexual love. Pornographic, anthropological, primate love.
* * *
The white pine whispers
What the wind can't say.
In the blowdown there's a slow ballet.
* * *
I am a citizen of the empire.
Moonlight & heartbeat.
Watres pipyng hoot.
* * *
One hawk.
Flying low, scaring crows.
No snow.
* * *
Summer morning, rabbit in my garden.
Let it be or send a warning.
Let the rabbit eat my peas.
* * *
Avoid the I,
Void yourself, and enter the void?
I think not.
Fire – Of Ancient Origins
Anthropological dawning’s
Cave walls with lit magic drawings
Of firestorms
Sacred mystical deity
Cavemen prayed with fidelity
For firelights
Their children delighted and grew
History ignited the fuse
On fireworks
Created by: Earl Schumacker on 11/19/14 for - Fire, Earth, Wind, - Poetry Contest
(Theme is – Fire)
Gallus gallus domesticus, friend in times good and bad
An animal which didn’t evolve well
From dinosaur to clucking egg producer, isn’t that sad?
Trapped inside its wire-based cell
A hen brood fight; pecking order again
Feathers flutter like a torn pillow
Much like life for many women and men
We cannot fly, but ideas can billow
When the world ends, I’ll live in a coop
Nothing can get in, except for the hungry fox
It will be quite small, I might have to stoop
I’ll be safer in there, except from chicken pox
I almost thought she was the one that made
Neil Diamond sings like a confetti parade
You know that sweet Carolyn thing, why not
She has the warmest soul, this sweet griot
This investigator of mysteries, and writer
Of myth and pale anthropological history
This lady, this encourager, this fresh sister
That brings a solace to each swift anxiety
This humanitarian, this dreamer, this friend
I say nothing when I read her poems again
Lest words reduce her to something defined
For words only say correctly that she is kind
And she drives the land from post to post
Bringing care and playing nurse and host
To every prayer balming pain, to each need
That plays her like winds play a reed
And make her sing her gentleness, sweet
And succulent songs, darling of gentleness
God, how your love in human form bleat
With ravishing light, and milky tenderness.