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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/27/2005 8:23:06 PM | IN THE BACKYARD
One leaf remains on November's dogwood,
wind patting it like a worried mother.
Grassblades stand, weary sentinels
in frozen fields of fallen leaves.
Willow behind the dogwood is open,
octopus branches inhaling sun.
Denuded rose-bush hunches earth,
thorns protecting an impoverished graft.
Gray-throated flitting singer dives
through the willow like a fast-action Tarzan.
Sun on tiny birch leaves, golden
as they sway in horizontal light. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/28/2005 7:24:47 PM | Howdy all...another busy day, so it's a post and run day for me.
Er...what to say...what to say....erhmmmm...
I dunno...let's try a haiku:
======================
One leaf clings tightly
Another fell to the ground
One waits in mid air
======================
Hmm...let's try another:
=====================
Feet smell like old cheese
Encased in ancient snow boots
Breathe, my stifled toes
=======================
Okay....how about one more:
===================
A string of curses
All lined up like fine jewels
Brings tears to my eyes
=======================
Yeah, that'll do. Two poems a day? Not so taxing, Poet. I write and post one a day (or the semi-equivalent) to keep from getting tired of it. Even poetry needs to be taken in moderate doses -- too much will prompt a fresh mind to dive into navel-gazing and will run the risk of becoming...well, feeling flat.
Hi Rory! Good to see you again...and that poem sparked my first haiku. November is really settling in here, bringing the snow and the cold. About time...November's almost done.
Well, g'night all....hugs and handshakes. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/28/2005 7:53:25 PM | I am surrounded by new experiences.......
In my return to work
It has been decreed, nay ruled
That I should go back to school
For two days of orientation
Really a pseudonym for....never mind
But what I have to say...today...I was tardy
Ran into the Elevator, pressed 15
Was on my own...thought I would make the deadline...
Doors opened at 4..3rd is the main floor(go figure)
Then 5...and 6.....
Was someone playing tricks?
7...8 ...shoot I am really late
9 and 10...
what the f*uck is wrong with this thing???
11....then 12......
I am still by myself
Haven't pushed another button
No one has got on this godd*am thing
I am now thinking this is a plot
Subversive machinations to stop me
From reaching my destination
13...then 14........
Again no one there
Have begun to tear out my hair...when
15...I am finally there
Step out and look around.....
Sheesh...I was on the Sabbath elevator...
Stops at every floor
Won't do that anymore
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/29/2005 6:20:00 PM | Howdy all! Howdy to Pickles and Rory, too! Two excellent writes from two fine barn-fellers. Sorry I can't say more...time for this old goat to head to bed. Long, crappy day today. A post n' run...but, first I'll soak in your guys' poems....mmm....ahhh...yeah...
Excellent writes.
As for me...a haiku...
=====================
Real estate agents
Bore me to tears with their forms
Sign this here please, sir
========================
I hate papers and I hate agents...secret ones, real estate one, ones that promote change...alla them. And lawyers...lawyers make my ass itch...and that brings forth another haiku.
====================
Lawyers sound like rats
When they squeak about the law
A thousand an hour
=====================
And mortgage brokers. I never met one, but I know I won't like 'em
=====================
Brokers of a shade
Are very shady indeed
I present my hairy ass
=====================
So...that's it. An evening shot. I'm going to bed.
G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/30/2005 3:11:27 PM | Condolences to the Goat. Ha ! You thought the pumpkin was dead !? Not so fast.
==============================================================
Pumpkin, O spongy pumpkin bread !
It's better than receiving head !
Squishy rapture with or without butter.
So good, in orgasmic glee, I mutter. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/30/2005 3:57:09 PM | | you all should be working or doing something more important than writing blogs. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/30/2005 4:26:32 PM | Ahhhh the aromaaaahhh
Fills the air
Faint at first hardly there
Just a frisson floating on the breeze
Barely notice it.....until
Full blast it rushes in...
Burning noses and stinging eyes
And as you gasp for air and wonder what the F*UCK is this
You realise.....this is the smell of..
TOTAL BULLSH*IT
please visit my blog at www.tbs.com
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/30/2005 5:24:35 PM | | I would have felt more honored if dumb Davhid hadn't just lumped this thread in with his troll mass-mail out. I was hoping for something of original trollishness. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/30/2005 5:49:32 PM | Hello all.
Hm..a troll was here. I can tell by the trail of troll droppings leading out the door. And not a creative troll, either...der...
Good to see Rory scraping the last bit o' Pumpkin off the deck. It'll make a fine trophy above the fireplace, non? Thanks for it...it goes with the rest of the saga..in my acquire poetry file.
And Pickles...good to see you as well...you are feisty and fabulous as ever, you is. Thanks for that fiery post.
And me? Well, Breathing and I had a visitor tonight...of the suit and tie kind:
=======================
Something Financial This Way Comes
A mortgage broker was here today
What his cologne was, we cannot say
With his magic laptop, he held us sway
Windows 2000 would not run this day
With common pen and paper he drew
Such confounding mysteries only he knew
He left us panting and in a dire mess
With that quantity of knowledge, we knew less
===========================
So there...it was fun and the smell of his Broker Cologne hangs in the air like lynched kittens. We have more papers here than we know what to do with. And his card with his corpse-like grinning face on it is...eeerie....
Ergh...
Well, g'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 11/30/2005 6:26:04 PM | Rory....dang........how do I spot a Troll??????????????
Goat....mine was Eau De Troppo Carre
Lingered for Days.....
Rebirthed each 13th of the month when the M word is paid
Hugzzzzz to you both
C xo | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/1/2005 4:05:16 PM | Howdy, pickled pickles !
Vistas of fresh pumpkin bread
Overlooking the old homestead.
A cornucopia of dietary bliss;
This caloric party cannot miss.
========================
Where went the pumpkin, is it dead?
No ! It transformed into pumpkin bread !
I love every bite, it's all mine,
This lovely fusion of orange-y divine. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/1/2005 7:17:44 PM | Howdy all...and howdy to Pickles and Rory! You guys are great! And, Pickles...the dreaded "m" may yet come to us rental folk sooner than we wanted to. Well, we were gonna buy this place sooner or later...turned out to be much sooner than expected.
Post n' run for a goat on the move. Something spontaneous, like combustion:
=========================
The First of December and It Sucks
Cran in a glass, washing away the parch
My fingers over a keyboard, making an arch
With every press on the lettered key
Makes a new letter, then a word y'see
But it's difficult to write the daily poem
When that time is tied up and not flowin'
============================
Thanks to all who stopped by to lurk -- Bless the Lovely Pickles and the Equally Lovely Rory! Youse great barn dweller fellers!
G'night, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/2/2005 4:42:48 AM | good morning all...
first off to dahhvid.....if we should be spending more time doing other things then writing, what does that leave you since you spend your time reading them.....obviously you have to much time on your hands when all you can do is comment stupid things like that....
Some of us work damn hard, and use this as a way to release, so if you don't like what you read, then stop reading.....
there...had to vent....lol
Hope all is well, it seems like goat and breathing are doing wonderfull and that warms the heart, dear rory and your pumpkin, I fear we will be hearing about it till its miraculous resurrection next halloween, or better yet the ghost of the pumpkin past....there you go,,,,lol
Pickles, hiya girl, seems like your such a busy person lately..hope all is well with you...
I wrote this for mari-sam's thread, one of hers inspired it so thought I would post it here...since my mind is on overload with this christmas thing, poems are very rare..lol
have a great one...
Blinders Off
Open your eyes precious one
And you will be free
Take off the blinders that prison you
So that you can finally see
The life that you once had
Was taken away long ago
Forever kept away from sight
So that you would never know
That caterpillar’s turn into
The beauty of a butterfly
And after the rainstorms
There are rainbows in the sky
That hearts can be broken
And loved the same time
Making you feel like your
The best of fine wines
That if you close your eyes
And listen to the sounds
Peace and serenity are yours
Tranquility can be found
Blinders off blind no more
All that’s offered you can see
Treasured days to cherish
Now that you’re finally free.....
Miz
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/2/2005 8:26:02 AM | Morning all barn dwellers!!!!
I agree with the venting Miz!!!
I think a challenge is need, lol
TROLL
Most writes take us no time at all
They pour out of us quite fast
It’s something that’s a part of us
See our IQ’s, beyond our ages, have surpassed
Not like yours
Which will never gain
Ours grows daily
Obviously, you lack the brain
So instead of insults
Come give it a try
Let’s see what you’ve got
Or is that too much for your IQ to supply
Sam | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/2/2005 6:18:55 PM | Friday the ninth
I will sign away my next born and my truss
I will put my name on the line
No muss no fuss
I will agree to give the bank my soul
And in doing so
Will be an Indian giver...take it back...
And give it to my Lawyer
Buying a house is so much more
Than I had bargained for
Land Transfer Tax.....a pox on that
Lawyers fees....they SQUWEEEEEEZE you
Movers are groovers and stick it to you
But......
Once again I can say with pride......
I am a woman of Property and substance
My smile is a mile wide | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/2/2005 8:35:31 PM | 'Tis late and I must be to bed. First, a quick howdy to Pickles and Mari (excellent rants and words about rants about trolls about trolling along).....and now, the post and run for this Friday, December 2nd, 2005:
==============================
There To Eat Lemons, Axe Gravy Soup
Insanity in the workplace can be a noble pursuit
It can take the stuffiness out of the workaday suits
A sign hangs in the manager's office to elucidate the whelps
"You don't have to be crazy to work here, but it sure does help"
But that little adge certainly wasn't the half of it
It was scrawled out carefully in her own sh!t
==================================
Alrighty...now to bed I go. G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/2/2005 8:38:23 PM | And I forgot about Miz...sorry...awfully good to see you again here in fine poetic form...
Okay..to bed... | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/2/2005 9:33:45 PM | Hi there Goat, Mari, Breathing, Miz, rory, Pickles, and the rest of the barn dwellers. Missed you guys terribly! Well holidays are upon us, a time of family, friends , and reflection of course. Reflecting is something I do alot. The past is a guide to the future.
"Those who don't know history are destined to repeat it."
~Edmund Burke~
Anyways, I came about this poem during some reflection. Hope you enjoy.
Paths Of Destiny
Wrought in blood, sweat, and tears,
I’ve become who I am, and fought through my fears.
Looking back, on the road I took,
I learned a great deal of wisdom, and evil forsook.
I still have many regrets, but don’t let them bring me down,
I remember all the good times, and not in self-pity drown.
We all travel our own roads, our destiny we make,
And all must live with the consequences, for our own mistakes.
For we are all who we are, by our own actions we were made,
Being solely responsible, no matter how much blame to others is conveyed.
So if your life isn’t what you wanted, you can still turn it around,
Travel a different path in life, for by your choices you are bound.
~Kobold~ | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/3/2005 12:53:03 PM | Hey Kobold....
Good you are back and enjoying the manure that we spread about.....
So if your life isn’t what you wanted, you can still turn it around,
Travel a different path in life, for by your choices you are bound.
GREAT poem...think I will follow that Philosophy
Hugzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz to all Barnburners!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/3/2005 2:21:59 PM | Hello all. Kobold! Good to see ya, pardner. And you have brought the barn down with your latest poem. When you dig, you find something good every time. Thanks for bringing it to the barn...I wouldn't have seen it otherwise.
Pickles, dear...also very good to see you. You're looking maaahhhhvelous.
As for me..well, here:
==========================
Escape from the Shopping Mall
Crowds abound, everywhere crowds!
Makes me shriek, makes me yell “Zounds!”
Parking lots jammed with angry, pinched faces
Exiting and finding parking lots are all stampede races
Looka here, looka there – an accident to be had
When you get this many people at Wallymart, it ends up bad
==================================
Allrighty...take care...see youse guys here tomorrow for the weakly -er, weekly - sermon.
Hugs! Pow! Zoom!
Awaaaaayyyyy!!!! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/4/2005 9:37:59 AM | Hello world...hello old goat...
Hello Sunday, hello pulpit, hello robe, hello people...hello sermon:
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Psalm 63 – The Book of Goat
Blessed be our hidey- holes
Where one can creep into
And ignore the world
Gracious is the quiet
Humbling is the space
Generous is the time
When one can hear it tick
It either electronic or mechanical form
Each second becomes its own
Until it drops into a seamless ocean
Well, Thy Lard hath proclaimed it
Pretty Darned Good
Then, to compliment it all with a beer
And a book (or even a comic book)
And maybe some CBC warbling in the background
Truly, a hidey-hole becomes Heaven on Earth
Sure, the phone will ring
And call-display will identify the demons
Before they speak
(Blessed be call display, by the way)
Those infernal suits and ties
That work for banks and never rest
Even on this Holiest of days
Thy Lard will sit in His Kingdom
With a CBC murmur
A steady supply of cold beer
And his Faithful PC running
Screw the bank
Amen
======================
Thar she blows!! Let us rejoice!
Okay...now I gotta take a dump. See youse guys later, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/4/2005 10:19:54 AM | Hahaha, oh yes the bankers
Only one’s to take out a withdrawal from my saving
And turn around and put it right back in
Then my checks bounced, but the fee’s they are waving
How hard can it be
To put two sets of numbers on one slip
I mean this is their job
Yet, they sunk their own ship………..
Sam | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/4/2005 11:26:53 AM | Love,Hate,Fear,Death
I have made my bed so here I will lie
Bleeding,seathing,crying,dying
I hate you! You left us.
Never know how much you will be missed.
You selfish **stard! With this twist.
I'll say goodbye I so want to die
You promised to stay by my side.
Untill the day that WE died.
But you left us in your selfish ways.
You took it upon yourself to say.
I hate you all and will not stay.
Yes you said I hate you all and will not stay.
As I look at our childs eyes.
How do I tell him about your goodbye.
We cry for you every night.
We cry till the morning light.
They way you left our "Happy" home.
You left us all alone.
No more can I write you see.
Cause the hate I feel is to real.
Why I ask why did you have to die.
Why did you go to that great blue sky.
Why did you leave us??
Were you not pleased.
Did you hate us?
Did you despise us?
I guess we will never know.
By K.W. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/4/2005 12:00:12 PM | Bankers are wanker*s I think you'd agree
They regard my money as theirs
They charge me to lend them my meagre bit
And the interest they pay is less than sh*it
But....
Go to them and speak the word borrow
You will feel the true horror
Of bring indebted to these financiers
Just the thought brings me to tears
Exhorbitant rates but you have no choice
They hold your nuts and squeeze the vice
Yes....Bankers are wanker*s
And not very nice | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/4/2005 3:56:41 PM | THE BANKER
I walked into the vaulted antiseptic cove of the banker.
A secretary was just walking out, so I thanked her
For leaving the two of us (that twisted black soul) alone.
Bland grey suit, blander bloated face about to issue a silent moan.
We talked about my loan, he feigned interest, then got on the phone.
Rifled off figures in self-importance as if he were throwing me a bone.
The secretary strode back in, and he offered to spank her;
I couldn't believe my ears: then with a wink said he would crank her.
She walked back out, silent, I asked, "did he know she had no chancre"?
He cleared his clotted throat. His words to me then could not have been franker:
"She does me 'favours', this is true, when we're in this private cone,
I love how she gets me going, blowing me while I count money in the zone."
That's it, I packed up my papers, and got quickly away from this drone;
The world would be a horror if, with the likes of him, it were cloned. | |
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