~
still egg ( a brief ponder-thing )
…
this poem is still egg
until out pecks a head
i shall incubate it so
gently sit on this egg
upon a thorny branch
in my metaphored nest
in the bewildered forest
guests - please excuse the mess
...
Author: resarfpoetry
you’re history
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you’re history ( a brief poetical non-paradigm ( essay fragment ) )
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your viking moods your saxon cross your maypoled frame & obby oss your gramophone y'old pants in ants glass-mad like charles the sixth of france your roman nose with ears to match the nose you pict your adolf tache your warts & all they tortured me sweet dungeoned dear you're history ...
no one in particular
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no one in particular ( 9 lines o’ rhyme )
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it's easy as we are no one we're no one in particular no fiddler or cricketer or sacred cow of literature the streets are free to wander down no fans asking for signatures as fame is not our prisoner we're no one in particular ...
some flowers …
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some flowers … ( a contemporary piece )
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bee stings in clover rose of queues lonely licking their tulips potpourri foamy heather forecasting sweet pea soup fucks lunch marigold dish shit petal thanks a bunch ...
encore …
~
encore … ( a contemporary sonnet )
…
as the actress said to the bishop thanks for the clap ...
where is arthur?
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where is arthur? ( 32 lines of wonder )
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where is arthur?
where's he gone?
there asleep 'neath
avalon?
not that arthur
climb a tree
scan as far as
eyes can see
visit ruins
consult ghost
attach missing
notes to posts
ask a wise owl
they might know
cleverer though
are those crows
is he hiding
in our heads?
check cupboards
& under beds
question what is
really real
slippery these
eels we feel
dive in duck ponds
dig the earth
prepare yourself
fear the worst
then the phone rings
saves the day
it's arthur he's
on his way
...
these walls have ears
~
these walls have ears ( a brief observations )
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these walls have ears a nosy mind a mouth, a soul & eyes - alive they hope, they breathe they feel, they sneeze a scheming bunch bricks up their sleeves ...
in the realm of early evening
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in the realm of early evening ( 10 lines of read )
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in the realm of early evening just beyond afternoon's grasps bats 'n' blackbirds interweaving confluences pebble-dashed too far now for night's gobshite fare free of sunny morning's cheer all maps agree the whys & wheres x eves the spot ( you are here ) ...
an assortment of wobbles
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an assortment of wobbles ( some poemz )
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another daze - another wobble sprained is day yet on she hobbles maelstroms suck fat turkey's gobbles puddles muddle pigeons squabble oh yonder dales beyond those windmills with the sound of the bastard hills resonate rattle windowsills turn my biro into a quill save mater earth & keep bees on it stationary supersonic shanks's pony plate tectonic clubfoot sandwich language phonics save the slogan & jellied quibbles bad shrew jokes - byzantine riddles piggys in the midst of middles dogs called god & cats called tiddles ...
dear little bird
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dear little bird ( 4 quatrains for the year’s first actual tuesday )
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dear little bird pecking my brain you feather not these flighty thoughts you are no bird - this truth is sane the rest is of less-sketchy sorts them pencils & them pads are mad my inky eyes are on the blink now straining as that world of fact this is how i normally think so peck away & do your worse like edgy free-verse about death pretend that you're a birdy curse pretend that you are worth the breath of uttering some veiled response as if i give a piece of piss so maybe you were haiku once? i care not ( beyond writing this ) ...
resarf poetry 