A mixed bag

All posts in the A mixed bag category

Grumpy for d’Verse

Published November 17, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Life’s too short

Tooth’s too long

Horses snort

Answer’s wrong

Eyes too bright

Pool’s too deep

Bra’s too tight

He’s too cheap

Sky’s too high

Feet too smelly

Words can lie

Too tight belly

Stream beds trickle

Chewing gum sticks

I’m in a pickle

Up to old tricks

Lost my keys

This won’t do

Down on my knees

Should get two

Don’t say pome

Only a verse

Come on home

Could be worse.

Rule Of Roost

Published November 16, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Aint it the truth!!!

Thomas Spychalski's avatarTomSpy

Oh, here they come now,
The rooster creeping up slow.

Sneaks by on glitter, and how,

We dine today on jet black crow.
What a world with beautifully broken people,

How a place like this can be, with so much to go around.

Climb from rough to the stop of that steeple,

Oh no, another long way down for all.


Rule of roost the biggest liar,

Hold your heart against the fire.

Hold us in a trio as we pray for different relief,

Cock in the henhouse, everyone I know has a thief.

Rule the roost but still recall, nothing’s perfect and so we crawl…

…right back into the farmer’s blade,

They all rule the roost and we are/I am just warm shade.

Thomas Spychalski 

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Are We Getting Dumber?

Published November 16, 2017 by Nan Mykel

multiplewoman.jpgI wonder if all the pollution is making us dumber, without our noticing it. I know I’m dumber than I was, but it may be my 82 years.  But if I look around at the widespread passive acceptance of irrationality and the willful destructive choices being made and tolerated, I wonder if the evolution of our homo sapien line may have come up against a brick–make that cement–wall.

I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.

 

I like ants

Published November 14, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Hilarious!

George Raymond's avatart r e f o l o g y

If we named ourselves 

the same way we named the ant-eater, 

I suppose my name

would be ant-eater, too

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Re-blog: Walked Out of Veterans Day Speech

Published November 12, 2017 by Nan Mykel

HOT OFF THE PRESS

Published November 11, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Alabama rep  [Ed Henry] says that if the women are telling the truth about Roy Moore they should be prosecuted

“If they believe this man is predatory, they are guilty of allowing him to exist for 40 years. I think someone should prosecute and go after them. You can’t be a victim 40 years later, in my opinion,” Henry said.

Daily Kos  By Walter Einenkel 

A Long Stretch for d’Verse, (almost)

Published November 9, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Sorry, I’m stumped again. I think I’m locked into secure and don’t know how to get out.

 

A LONG STRETCH

The clear melody of birdsong,

a cool, soothing breeze off the lake,

the kitten’s purring, a warm hug.

The poet’s palette offers endless

choices to embrace and call

forth our gentle, loving nature,

for which the poet is revered.

We cannot argue, this is true.

 

From the same palette, also true:

a rancid stink of depredation

spreads like contagious lava

burning bridges, brutalizing

the senses, and overwhelming

love. How long can both truths endure?

It’s a long stretch between the two.

Or is there a total disconnect?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #8

Published November 9, 2017 by Nan Mykel

I had to re-blog this… My favorite is Number 6 — visit her site to read after 1-5…

Rajani Radhakrishnan's avatarTHOUGHT PURGE

Micropoetry MonthThe last time I tried my version of Wallace Stevens’ “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” I called it “ Thirteen Ways of Looking in the Mirror” . Think I need to change my perspective!

Try your own set of thirteen (or three or ten) or share any other form of micropoetry using comments or Mister Linky! Here’s mine.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Myself

(1)

my silence
is the space
I concede to you,
sometimes
willingly

(2)

as a fragment of a fragment
of a fragment…
should I worry
that I am incomplete

(3)

whatever you see
when you see me,
know that inside
I am polished mirror

(4)

my anger has a way
of finding hidden words
while pain sits in the dark
reading someone else’s poems

(5)

what I know about love
I learnt from the river
that polishes one stone
into a…

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