Monthly Archives: April 2012


Last day of Poetry Month.  For me… One year and a month of poetry writing. Yewoza.  So… I have a plan, I always have a plan… and I went to the local thrift shop cause I love a good thrifting and took some pictures.  I played around with them on my camera and I’m going to use them to inspire  some Thrift Shop Poetry.  A junker’s dreamin’.


Around again.  Really


Cotton and soft worn just right for her butt

Left behind in a black bag with all her old stuff

YOu knew it was hard for her to part with these panties

Hanging with that matching light pink little cami


The panties were filled with sexy hot memory

Mostly in the taking off for her man Henry

Well Henry he left her for hot pink bikinis

That slipped off the ass and were very sleazy


Her heart it was broken no more cotton for her

Not brief enough for Henry that slimy cur.

Forget that low bastard he’s not worth the ache

There’s plenty of panties that elicit a date


She found a new man in her silky white slip

Why bother with panties when you’re naked and fit

No need to be bothered with slipping them off

Over the head when you wanna get buffed


Now Henry that dog, was sniffing the thrift

Came upon a row of knickers and slips

Got all nostalgic when he found her’s hangin’ there

Remembers her hot body silky and bare


He dials her number with hopes to rekindle

The love she wove round his heart with her spindle

Too late you idiot her cotton panties are all gone

She traded them in for silky slips and John




















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You timeless scamp

Paths lead everywhere

The hard is in the making

Sweet surrender for the taking

You know the way


YOu timeless scamp

Everywhere leads to a Path

Making hard can be easy

Take surrender sweetly

You know the way


YOu timeless scamp

Lead the way down the Path

Easy goes the surrender

Take the hard make it sweeter

You know the way

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NaNO NaNO…Any one remember Mork n’ MIndy?  I loved that show.  The thought of this show was prompted by the Poetry month… NaPoWriMo.  Just incase you wanted to know why out of the blue I thought of it.  But then… I often grab outta the blue bizness cause that’s what this poetry blog is all about.  eeegads..  Geezin’ through life one brain cell at a time.  Sippy the darn coffee and movin’ right along here.


Blue haired lady she knows some things

Geezin’ along the blue highways like her hair

Gatherin’ the business of this and that

Sinkin’ some wisdom down into the heart of things

Pretending it’s so cause it feels goods, smells good,

tastes good, must be good if ya believe it so



Blue haired lady she got some bull shit

to be talkin’ cause talking is in her bag

and she likes to pull it out for show n’ tell

Some of it’s vintage like her and some of it

Ya just never know cause it could be the

very thing you want to hear or maybe

just maybe you need to listen 



Blue haired lady she likes to talk to anyone

She says it like it is and was in the might be

And maybe she read yer fortunate

Cause you is if you don’t know that yet

In the what might be if there is one

even if it is the truth cause who

knows that anyway in the 



Blue haired lady she ain’t blue inside unless

you consider a brilliant blue sky or that kinda

sky that’s deep blue like when the night is special

and the sun she set just right and the blue highway

is litter with bluebells ringin’ the glory of livin’

She’s that kinda blue all over and inside


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Day 27 in the NaPoWriMo scheme of things; that giving of a poem everyday, everyday for the month of April.  


It’s been a breeze, sometimes a gust, a whip, 

maybe wisp of spring wind caught in my hair, 

or maybe it’s your breath in our passing that catches 

on the edge of my face that I quickly inhale.  

Inhale your exhale, gather a bit of you in my breathing,

 take it a few steps, a few steps down the street and 

exhale it for someone else to take in. They take in you 

and me and the spring wind caught in my hair,

 the whip of air around us.  Breathing without any thought 

to the taking of my breath, your breath, our breath, 

everywhere all of us sharing what we need for life.

Lives all connected by the passing of inhales and exhales 

of strangers and lovers,  battle fields, and churches,

victims and perpetrators, that vicious little child in the grocery 

that huddled man covered in dirt on the corner begging, 

Or… the infinite breath of God or Goddess or who or whatever 

you call that magnificence All around you.  Breathing

In the finite world of living your last breath that will be mixed

with everyone’s breath spiraling around the globe to you

And in that last gasp, as you mind leaves you and your

body has said it last goodbye, you are not alone

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CELEBRATION beyond the grey matter…

Howdy… Thursday has found it’s way around another 7 days.  NaPoWriMo is coming to a close in another 4 days and I will keep on writing well after that.  Todays prompt is to write an elegy,   I recently did that for my brother and I’m not feeling the need or desire to do that again.  Should you like to read it please go to 12th of April.

In my sippy de’la cafe’, I’m pondering nothing at all to write about in this minute and any minute now something will roll on over this brain of mine to sputter out some little diddy.  



What is be a blank life; empty, void of thoughts and delights?

A fuzzy screen of grey crackle with the white noise drone of endlessly

Going no-where, doing nothing, breathing blank gasps of blind air


Not even in death can my imagination see anything but rainbow bliss

Carousels of writhing ponies  celebrating the green meadow hoof dance 

The rise of Spring green welcoming a carpet of blazing daffodils and 

Butterfly crocus flitting orange and purple in chilly morning breezes 


In that moment of nothing is everything that ever filled me with life

And I can see the welcome of those gone before me opened armed

Smiling their bright beams of light to my last breathe


Not even in my darkest hour at the bottom of my dry well lonely

Does the soul of me wallow colourless in the deserted paths to my heart

Even then  the hot red sear of ache spatters my canvas brilliantly

Blazing vibrancy over the walls of what I deem anguish


No, I can not know that blank void of a life desolate and colourless

Joy and pain vibrate prisms of copious colour in flames and sky

The march of Seasons hungry to have their time to be seen and heard


I am a child of life excited by each spasm and drift of resplendent wonder

My screen is cacophony of vibrance and verdant elation singing

Songs of Hallelujah everywhere all the time, In praise of All that is

Where everything is life force and my breath is a celebration





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holy moly.. I’m running late and I had to grab ten lines from 10 other peoples poems to do the prompt today… what was I thinking.. and of course I didn’t HAVE to… so…These are the 10 lines I randomly took from other NaPoWriMo poets sites.  Just hauled off an stoled them.  I’m not sure what sense any of it will make, but will reorganize them and make somethin’ somethin’ outta them.. Ready… whewww.


My dawn starts with bright sunrays

I lift my arm to pick one and find a new galaxy


I walked by a girl cutting grass with scissors

I wanted to bottle and cork you, set you in my cellar, pour you through my fingers 


Clandestine space that is the mind, no one can read what lies within

The tree sees, whoever has seen a seeing tree knows


There are cascades of water spinning away from your body.

A splendid rainbow truth


I seized the world up, weighed it flaws and found

I wrapped you in my palms, a prayer




The tree sees.

Whoever has seen a seeing tree knows.

I walked
by a girl cutting grass with scissors,

There are cascades of water spinning away from your body,

a splendid, rainbowed truth


My dawn starts with bright sunrays 

my night wraps up dusky dark


I lift my arm to pick one and find a new galaxy


I’ve sized the world up, weighed its flaws and found

My soul too raw to cope with sounds and stenches

I wrapped you in my palms, a prayer,

felt your pulse quicken beneath my touch,


I want to bottle and cork you,
set you in my cellar,
pour you through my fingers
on a mournful day

My hands twisting, I sat down between the spaces inside trees


Clandestine space that is the mind,

No-one can read what lies within



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