Granny from Salem
There once was a Granny from Salem
Who peeled all potatoes and ate um
She liked them to be mashed
And served with corn beefed hash
There was never a need to save um
by Karen Sullivan
Format: Limerick
She
She
was
there
growing
in
the
safety
of
my
womb
that
was
meant
to
nourish
and
protect.
She
was
there
until
the
cramps
and
bleeding
came.
And
then
she
who
was-
was
not.
Sestina sex
Feel my gentle caress,
my fingertips of lust.
As you slowly undress,
I could nearly combust.
Teasing what I obsess,
making your body thrust.
Yet as your hips thrust,
to this tender caress.
I feel your heart combust,
stopping your undress.
Now your eyes filled with lust,
it’s you who now obsess.
Yet why should you obsess?
I have yet to thrust.
Deep into that velvet caress,
over and over till I combust.
So continue your slow undress,
become overwhelmed with lust.
My pride rises the peak of my lust.
I see your eyes widen and obsess,
in anticpation of my thrust.
Instead I tease with sweet caress,
and smile as you almost combust,
another pause in your undress.
Your dress slips down revealing what’s left to undress.
My heart filled with lust,
I slip my fingers between and slowly caress.
I feel you smile, shudder, and thrust.
Oh yes, do obsess,
till I let you combust.
No you may not combust.
Not till you undress.
Those pout lips filled with lust,
attempting to make me obsess.
Yet I control your wanton thrust,
with this simple caress.
Softly I continue to caress, and again nearly you combust.
I feel the wet heat of your lust, as you hurry to undress.
Your eyes fixated and obsess, as i begin to thrust.
Proverbs
He who stands on toilet
Is said to be High on Pot
And water, when you heat it,
Won’t boil if it’s watched
They say April showers
Bring Bushes and flowers
In the merry merry month of May
If an apple can keep the doctor away
And there comes a day when pigs fly
And you’ll find both a will and way
To sit back and let sleeping dogs lie
Kettle wants to get revenge
On that bigot, the pot
A stitch in time may save you nine
But it’s only a crime if you get caught.
Poem #19
These little poems
Are fun. Especially for
This marathon thing.
Demons
Late at night, my flaws shine bright.
They magnify and become permanent convictions.
Conditions,
Apparitions.
Devotations.
Why can’t I wake and do, act, think, look as I want? Wish my worries and flaws away. Wish them away very hard.
Almost pray.
Don’t waste a prayer on something that won’t change.
My Singing Career
Sing a song of six-pence, all fall down along with Humpty Dumpty, the
King’s horse, the king’s men, the muffin man and all who live on Drury lane.
My musical background began with these tunes and never meanders very far
from there except for my days in high school chorus singing something by Noel Coward
and George Gershwin, Summertime, I Got Rhythm and the usual rock hits of my day. Plus
the church choir then and now, old fashioned hymns and when I was a teenager singing duets with my twin sister, fraternal, but we tried to dress nearly alike when we performed. We sang Blue Moon wearing green dresses with a design that resembled tapestry. I can see those dresses now, our moments on the high school stage she singing melody in her clear unaffected soprano, and I singing harmony because what was left? She still sings solos with her small church choir, and I join my choir for Christmas season and Lent and Easter. One of the group, it is my holiday celebration living singly as I do with no higher aspirations than to be spinster woman Miss Marple, discovering the murderer and the secret relationship between the man and woman who introduce themselves as cousins, but are really husband and wife, plotting to swindle their uncle, who is not really their uncle, but a one time love of their late mother who died in an American asylum after moving there following one of the European Wars, in which England is left in tatters. You know their modern history and the history of the world wars and the collapse of royalty nearly everywhere but in a few select places, Amsterdam, Sweden and Spain except for the time of Franco’s Fascist state dictatorship. Nursery rhymes were created because of incidents in history Americans don’t understand, the war of the Roses, the 100 years war, the skirmishes in which king’s would lose their heads literally, after first doing so figuratively. Merrily we roll along, roll along, while the King of Spain’s daughter has a tree that makes her happy. Is the daughter of the King so happy now? I think I shall write a nursery song with 2 or 3 short lines, nonsense words such as kachewing and mextagangle. Oh the words were part of last night’s dream. The frightening one in whch someone is following me into a phone booth with a rifle. Have you used a phone booth lately? Sing a song of iphones. Gather ye rosebuds while you may. That is the story of my musical career and how I was defiant and distracted by curious turns of events, dear Lady Jane.
Seventeen…
Would I save my soul if I could
from this fire smouldering in me
anger
burning gnawing seething anger
orange fire burning red
smoking from my singed heart
white hot
I burn blue and cry
great tears squeezed from the depths of hell
my childhood
I would not save that from a fire.
Wild Thing
You see of me what I want.
Little beast of camoflague,
dark of pelt and sleek as rain.
Forest-eyes that peer
through branches of distrust,
wary, curious, silent.
What words flow out of me,
soft and silent as sighs
on the breath of need.
I dip my head to
the cool drink of knowledge,
draw deep and within.
My back arches against the sun,
my voice a cry to the moon,
my hands and feet
so very lightly step,
wild beast-woman caged within.
I cry against the chains,
tear at the bars,
growl and whine and howl
for lack of my own wild woods,
now culled, now tamed.
Bite the hand that feeds me,
struggle to run free.
Little wild one biting back,
tearing back a piece of me.
Poem18/24 “Paddle Your OWN CaNoE”
An own hardship
Is better than a help to save your ship
So you maybe able to be proud
For your own self, no doubt
You will not be able to hear
Words from those who helped you
In case you failed them
Its better to your own abilities
There , you will be able to find out
Your capabilities
Your strength
Your patient
Your love to do the things you can
Your love to do the things you can’t
And you will learn
To develop yourself
You will be able to stand firm
You will be tough
You will be strong enough
To face those people who had rejected
And those people who had helped you
In words, let me tell you
”Paddle your own canoe”
No matter what is the circumstances are
No matter how difficult those obstacles
No matter how huge those stormy waves
No matter what happen
Keep paddling
Your own canoe
For whatever will be the result
You will regret no one
It is YOU who paddled
It is YOU who will give a life
In times that you can’t paddle
Any longer
Don’t stop, take a rest
God will help you
To paddle tour own canoe
As long as you trust
In His promise
That He will never leave you