The mish now buried in the mash,
the dog caught rooting through the trash
With litter scattered far and wide,
the pieces gather, the Cheshire hides
All lollygaggers out in front,
those last now first, a noble stunt
The blend what’s vital, layers bake,
Choo Choo Mamma—Potpourri Babycakes
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
…written while listening to ‘Come Together’
by the Beatles
The Moon Bows
The aging artist has a trait,
those short on sight can’t bear
All normal signs of waning,
a crown now his to wear
Wrinkles and sparse graying hair,
still negative to some
But when they light upon a Sage,
—the moon bows to the sun
(Grantham New Hampshire: February, 2017)
Still To Run
Your page now short on substance,
yet colorful the rhyme
The words used in abundance,
where lesser might define
Intention slave to beauty,
all meaning zero sum
Pageantry lost in the wind,
—your blood left still to run
(Grantham New Hampshire: February, 2017)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: February 24th, 2017 10:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 39
Offline)
Comments3
A fine write.
Thanks so much!
Kurt
Great write
Thanks
Welcome
As always, stunned.
As always, honored!
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