Short Weevils Poems

around my mailbox
a sunflower convention . . .
weevils unwelcome...

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oiled cast iron black
preheating pan in oven —
weevils in cornmeal

10/13/2020...

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If you have to step on a bug choose the lesser of two weevils.


2nd Place
The Glass is Always Full Contest
Sponsor:  Alexis Y.
6/13/17...

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A rage results:
the orange dolt’s
been at the tweets.

Or truths they’re called -
I am appalled;
please bring receipts.

Then Harris talks -
word salad pox
from pre-typed sheets.

Oh, RFK
You had the day,
why the retreats?

—————

A Rhupunt of the form aaB ccB ddB with 4-syllable lines...

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Not at all nice:
In one's hair lice 
In one’s room mice
Weevils in one’s rice
In lieu of full cake, a slice
One’s highest post “vice”.
Permanent ear for advice.

A bad throw of Life’s Dice,
Quick to itself half disguise,
Already on one fixing a price:
To The Rest, Worth Thrice

A Stroke of humbling bad luck
An Eagle makes A Duck!...

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Sweet Sarah got ready to bake
A sticky rich dark ginger cake
Her flour was appaulin’ -
vile weevils were crawlin’
to use it would be a mistake!

Those weevils could make her cake sour
So Sarah gets rid of that flour
She emits a cus
Then hops on a bus…
She’s baking in less than an hour

For Barry with my love

08/20/20...

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It must feel good to say at last 
The ceiling is shattered 
And the door is open 
It must feel good 
But I looking at the ceiling 
Think of icy rains 
Monitors on my feet instead of chains 
Weevils dancing in the hoarded grains 
And blind men wiping at dark blood stains 
It must feel good at last to belong 
To see your face on the totem pole 
Hear the world sing your song 
Muting the lyrics meaning about the cold...

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the covid-19 is perching
hither to thither
branch to branches
in the surviving breaths of human!

for the rescue
from the poor deaths
the human timid mind
worried to have vaccine

but yet to have it

hungry mind
passionately dies
poor death

no way
without waiting
into the venom of innovation

world will be alive long
this mind into the jaw of weevils
thru unknown assassin mills

18.10.2020 Chattogram...

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MEET A POET TODAY


I know birds that weave shrubs into nest on trees ??
I know rodents that do same in crevices 
I know apes that do their gymics  on branches
Even the weevils that pulverise grains into dusts
And for goldsmiths  that twist the fate of precious  stones
If you ever marvel at these things 
Pay a visit to a poet
They are the gods that weave  words into twines and brass chains 
Make one a friend today
Tomorrow you will  speak in Solomon's words



CONCEPTUAL FM...

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