E.C. Walsh Blogsphere

A comment and some brief poems

I think it is ‘odd how you can get testy at times with relatives you love for no other reason than explaining unjust things that may have happened. Anyway, three new poems.

1) “Palliative” by yours truly

Palliative care
In middle life.
Oh, the anger,
Oh, the rage.
“Take care of yourself.”
But it depends what that means.

“53” by yours truly

53 cents left in your bank account.
You’ve gone broke, no joke.
Look bloke:
Matter the dollars?
Mater Dolorosa

“Grey/White” by yours truly

Thought for a while I had grown
A pretty big grey beard,
But the hair is mostly white.
Does that mean I am wise
Or stupid?
Alright,
Stay bright tonight.

Two poems (I do not even like stream of consciousness in an extreme form but do it at time)

“Rain” by yours truly

A bit of rain
In early summer.
“What a bummer!”
“Prayers for Rain.”
Was the old pop song.
Makes my porch chair wet.
Some things we remember.
And some forget.

“Weak” by yours truly

Sometimes I do not know if
I am weak or strong.
I got angry at an in-law relative
Who repeatedly said I was weak.
I had recently been physically tortured by police
For no reason.
I said to a potential online girlfriend
When she asked what was my best quality,
“I can survive anything.”

Just a joke/poem today

“Lips” by yours truly

Have you heard of the historic European event of Tulipmania – people going crazy about flowers’ beauty and driving their prices insanely up?

I am a bit crazy about your two lips, kissing them softly.

I am jumping the gun and posting for tomorrow now. It might slip from my mind if I do not. My first-year college roommate kind of jokingly called me “Oblivion” because on weekends I could drink so much I would forget what I had I had done. He also sometimes called me Shemp as another joke. We did not hate each other.

Anyway, a poem, a comment, and a joke now (hope they do not seem angry)

“Lying” by yours truly

“You lie like a rug.
You lie like a rug.”
“Someone needs a hug!”
“You all think I am only a lying mug?”
“Cup of your Joe? Don’t think so.”
“‘Lie Down in Darkness’
And sleep.”

A comment

I said to a close relative recently when he complained about brief poems and comments I had sent out by gmail (because Facebook has partly cut me off) that “If you don’t like them then don’t read them.” I said something a bit nastier to him but won’t repeat it. We have stopped talking for now. There are more important things than being liked and popular.n

A joke

An idea for post-retirement work for the lead singer of the pop group Duran Duran: Run cinnamon-bun stores called Simon Le Bon’s Cinnabon stores with Duran Duran songs played in the background.

A comment and a brief poem

One of my older brothers got a bit angry with me recently for sending out a few recent innocent poems on gmail when Facebook largely censored me. A social media contact said he may have been spurring me to finish a novella idea instead of just writing short poems. Anyway here is a new poem.

“Blue and White” by yours truly
Blue sky
And soft, white clouds
Over foothills again
As darkness nears.
Oh, my fears.

A poem or two

“Foothills and Clouds” by yours truly

Sometimes in the May evening
The distant foothills seem to meld
Into the low white clouds.
And there is often windy chill.
As you will.

“Beard” by yours truly

“The beard can get so long now
That it makes your face itch.
It affects your lips, even your mouth.”
“You need a new facial razor.”
“Yeah, just ordered one from Amazon.”

A poem

“Black” by yours truly

Inky black night,
Know wrong from right.
Sometimes business light
Is welcome but a bit ugly in day.
And the wind chill can be a thrill.
Just sit still,
Then turn in,
If you will.

Two poems

“More Sky.” by yours truly

What more can you say about sky
7,000 feet, such elevation and the foothills?
Low white cloud and a bit of blue.
A lot of grey.
There could be rain today.

“Black” by yours truly

Inky black night.
Sometimes the commercial lights are welcome at night
But irritating in daylight.
Slight windchill, can be a thrill.
Just sit stiil, if you will

Thre brief poems

“Color and Clouds” by yours truly

Surreal or just pastel?
Who can tell?
Above low white clouds
Like evening sky on fire.
Go to bed, retire.

“Crude” by yours truly

“You are crude, rude, and unrefined,”
She said on a bed after we kissed.
She also said my breath smelled badly.
It was not a good night.

“More on Sky at Night’ but do not stalk at night by yours truly

What more can you say
Of this sky?
The rest may seem like inflation.
Thefe is a bit beneath a bit of blue and a lot of grey.
May mean rain.

Four poems

1) “Pear” by yours truly

“Grow a pear!
Grow a pear!
Buyer beware
Because we are not referring to genitals.”
Pear not pair?
Pears can be lovely fruit.,
Hear the sound

2) “White Sky” by yours truly

White clouds all around.
Feel the wind.
Hear its sound.
A bit of grey
And some blue coming through.
You are what you are
And do what you do.
Be true.

3) “Weak/Strong” by yours truly

Weakness and strength
At this long length.
Sing to yourself in the holding cell,
A personal hell…or impersonal one.
“Can’t un-ring that bell.”
They call me weak, weak, weak.
They say the meek
Might inherit a birth.

4) “Estrange” by yours truly

Estrangement
Because of your derangement.
Our distance now won’t relent.
Not really heaven-sent.
Life now bent
And soon absent.
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