For today’s prompt, write an excess poem. In today’s culture, there seems to be an excess of excess–even with the state of economy. From an excess of advertisements and political posturing to an excess of electronic gadgets and debt, there’s an excessive number of ways to attack today’s prompt.
Here’s my attempt:
“There are too many poems to write”
–for Hannah
They’re hidden in closets
& sock drawers, under
couch cushions, behind
the couch. In the lies
children tell each other
on the playground. In your
eyes shaped by heaven
that smile like angels
descend to whisper
sweet things in your sleep.
*****
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*****
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Too many times
I wanted to be FIRST,
but couldn’t.
Today,
stand behind me
in line!
Way to go Patricia !
Yes!
Honored to stand behind such a fine poet! Smiles!
woohoo!
Hahahaha, I’m laughing with you, Patricia. You’re cool!
Cute, Patricia… I know what you mean. = )
WOOT WOOT!!!!
Yeah, Patricia!
so how do get smiley faces to post here ? I need a little help it seems.
Just type your : ) but with no spaces and it will post as
Downsized
Happy Meals have become healthy meals with apple slices and low-fat milk, children’s menus are for those with bird-like appetites; they no longer fit the bill for adults wanting slightly smaller portions while saving a dollar or two. We peck away at whole grains and wheat breads, reward ourselves with nonfat fruit smoothies because it’s the thing to do when all we really want are greasy fries and homemade pies. At the supermarkets products have shrunk half-size yet the price remains the same. We open bags of chips and find them half-empty, cheese-sticks are now cheese-twigs and what once served a family of four barely gets by for two. Yet the price remains the same; the demand for money that doesn’t grow on trees soars like eagles as the drought we’re in, the doubt of our future, crumbles beneath our feet like a pile of dead leaves.
Looks like we are on the same wave-length, Laurie! I just posted, then saw your post. Something has to change…there are times I could yell, “Beam me up, Scottie! I can’t take much more of this!”
Laurie, Linda: How nice to find kindred spirits on a Saturday morn!
Vivid description of today … especially liked the “cheese sticks” that are now “cheese twigs” So many writing “anti-excess” poems .. Prompt would have made a great Two for Tuesday
Great one Laurie!
Thanks for this, Laurie. I now refuse to buy Triscuit Thins, the triangular crackers, because they’ve shrunk the box and raised the price! As for the greasy fries, I can give those up easily, but with the holidays coming, GIVE ME MY PIE.
Too cool!
All I want right now are some greasy fries….
Ninety-nine Percent
“but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Matt.15:27
The excesses of the American Dream
have rolled off the table
hitting with a crash
shattering in a nova of politics.
Greed has been wiping up.
Covertly stealing the last bits
of the pie, hiding them under
fat-bellied lies and deceitful smiles.
We, the 99%, struggle.
We pick up the pieces.
Make do, do over or do without -
Mostly do without.
When will it end?
When will the table be full again,
like Rockwell’s painting -
enough for all?
Great poem!
Linda- That’s funny we thought about the same thing. I really like yours. = )
Love this Linda! I too would like to see Rockwell’s painting for this!
right on target !! lovely poem
Thanks, Nimue!
Linda, I would like to see the painting Rockwell would make for all of this!
LIke your expression “nova of politics”.
Spillage
In the country
Across the land
Airwaves loop
In repeated ribboned
Fat wrapping the country
In quivering vitriol, obscuring the
Clean line of bone structured
solid stable beneath the excess of
Bloated blubbered banal banter
Hey Pearl,
Good lines. This is verbal ninja sytle.
Lol…thanks Benjamin …so good to see you..
Hahaha, thanks, Pearl. You reminded me I need to get my poem posted so I can go WALK.
And you reminded me to get ready for the gym! Hi Karen good to see you
So less to write,
so much more to read..
for each page you go through
a single line you yield;
ideas percolate
and trickle my pen at times,
ignoring will not work
the guilt stays mine..
write as and when you want,
readers might be few
but every one brings
an excess of perspectives,all new …
I love the line, “ideas percolate”…my grandpa had an old fashioned stove top percolator. Reading that line, I could see the ideas popping up into the little glass knob at the top of the pot. First 1, then 1…2, then 1…2…3, then12345678…..
Fun!
Lovely poem…lovely poetic comment by Linda engendered…and so we inspire each other… In poetic ” percolation”
Nimue – this is lovely.
Delightful poem….for the little
Princess of Poetic Asides
Whoops…anti-excess ! Left out your name Robert
Excessed
In the land of BOED
a time so very long ago
On self same day two
Letters came -one of high praise
The other simply stated “excessed”
Time immediately to go
In that land of BOED
so many years ago
those who taught the younger folk
were strangely “excessed” transferred, not let go
On the streets of BOED across
That long ago logic-deprived land
began a cosmic catastrophic shuffle
Of spirit flattened educators
Dealt as picture cards cavalierly flicked
From one place to the next
“Excessed” around the table by an unseen hand
Note : The ridiculous term ” excessed” was one used by NYC BD of Ed to inform tenured teachers that usually for no educationally sound reason ( ie a ” senior ” teacher in school A for many years might be “excessed” to school “B” in what was seen as more “favored” neighborhood and a new inexperienced teacher put into school “A”… All without consideration of teacher, school or student ‘s needs and certainly with no thought to the marginalization and replaceability implied in the euphemism “excessed” which replaced “transferred “
I’ve always siad that the students who need quality teachers the most are given the least experienced ones. It’s an upside down system.
Excessed seems so insulting, as compared to transferred. Why would that seem a “better” word to the powers that be? My sympathies go with those excessed teachers.
Age of Entitlement
What spurs the seasons of this life
Which bleed upon the sod?
We squander love and hate alike
To serve lust’s lesser god
Freedom is not entitlement
To please our pompous pride
Seasons splayed their glory when
Brave men of honor died
Beneath the gray November sky
Beneath the warm spring sun
Beneath the fireworks of July
Our freedom has begun
Dare we to spill one hallowed breath
In thoughtless chivalry,
Or live as though we own the earth
Bought once through history?
Seasons and mankind mark the soil
Where soldier’s blood-drops fell
If freedom’s cost evades our toil
Then we are bound for hell
What spurs the seasons treading time?
Tis not entitlement
That brings the rain or sun to shine
On meadows that we plant
We gather harvest of the field
Yet, who evokes the sod?
Can we preserve our freedom’s shield
Yet spurn the hand of God?
Winter, spring, summer and fall
Will we be diligent?
Or blindly stumble through them all
Pleading entitlement?
Janet Martin
Powerful!
Wow! Great poem Janet! Love it!
Woah, this is so thought provoking, Janet. I love the questions brought up in this.
In a ravenous world
Of desolation, despair, disease
The cries of those with anything
Abandoned to reassess excess
In a ravenous world
The child with bloated belly
The baleful bar
Against which excess measured
The plate far less full, no less painful
Than the bloated child’s starving cries
To the parent knowing even less is coming
In a country where even one grows fat
I love “baleful bar”. Great poem.
Too many gadgets
Connect each sparkling pretty
Sharing nothing much
goodness, you are on a roll!
Known “BY” your roll, is more like it. ^_^ Glad to see you busy here at the PAD again!!
First sorry for typo IPAD does not like the word “been” always sneaks in a change to “Bern”. who or what is Bern…
Mhmm secondly dear Domino how unkind when I’ve just come from the gym no less to mention how I’m known for my poet’s fleshy roll? LOL
Of COURSE not that kind of roll. ^_^ But the kind where you keep rolling sevens and elevens… or whatever it is that keeps your muse content.
(And “Bern” is a city in Switzerland.) ^_^
Reality TV
There is a reality blaring across the land
Of houses stretched as acres
Rocks of precious stones glittering on each hand
Tiaras on toddlers, rampant abandon from shore to shore
And on the ends and in the middle blank eyed
Watch the minions wondering when so much less
Became for them their “more”
Pearl, you just said a mouthful
Well done!
Sometimes I just have to spit it out
. Thanks Sara
Longing for excess
pining for the time
when concern did lie
with just how much to eat
and how much to save for later
of our giant slice of pie
Belts on the top loosened
Let out another notch or two
As an army of destinationless cinched tight trousers
Shoulders bent march to Nowhere, when told that they are through
I like your collection and can’t choose a favorite. You have much to say and a concise way to say it. I can tell you have given this topic much consideration. Did you have these poems before the prompt today? I seldom write about social/political positions and what I started working on is so flat I just want to ditto your remarks.
No, did not have them before …in fact I apologized later on for just “spilling”. I can tend to have a bit of lyrical diarrhea …. This is a subject that does trouble me greatly….especially when I think there ARE solutions to help… Thanks so much for the kind comment! Much appreciated
You are skyrocketing with these poems. They are all wonderful.
STARVING
No food
for eight days.
Realized
I can’t eat
A 52-inch,
HD TV.
a strong punch to this – like it
Clearly !
Yes mike … Precisely put
Obsessions
My day 12 attempt, a haiku..
Dont know why my first comment blanked out.. Could you delete that please?
Leo, I am learning to appreciate haiku, and I particularly like the one for today it’s got a nice pivot line and a great insight line.
The Divide…………..
A sentinel church on a spiritual spruce-sided hill,
Amid frigid frozen forest chill,
Cloaked in saintly satin white,
Remorselessly sliding into endless silent night,
For who now daily raises their eyes?
Further than the toxic skies,
If for humanity’s plight there be a reason,
Think deep on it this coming festive season,
You know now more than ever we should believe in hell,
Without it money holds an unbeatable spell,
Even Scrooge reacted to the Ghost of Christmas future,
It’s irreplaceable by any relativist economical intellectually
convenient suture,
The free hand?
Why don’t you understand?
Every year though we recognize the birth of the Son remember he too was sold,
Even His close friend sold his soul for gold,
If someone doesn’t soon do what’s right,
Humanity will be enchained in perpetual soulless night,
Yes this coming festive season state hard at the church on the hill,
And wonder should we not better all follow still…
KUDOS
thank you
I’m new here. No Idea what I’m doing! Dont even know how to get my photo on my icon… maybe just as well !
Age of Entitlement….(sorry for re-posting this. I added a stanza to better clarify the prompt using excess.)
What spurs the seasons of this life
Which bleed upon the sod?
We squander love and hate alike
To serve lust’s lesser god
Freedom is not entitlement
To please our pompous pride
Seasons splayed their glory when
Brave men of honor died
Beneath the gray November sky
Beneath the warm spring sun
Beneath the fireworks of July
Our freedom has begun
Dare we to spill one hallowed breath
In thoughtless chivalry,
Or live as though we own the earth
Bought once through history?
Seasons and mankind mark the soil
Where soldier’s blood-drops fell
If freedom’s cost evades our toil
Then we are bound for hell
What spurs the seasons treading time?
Tis not entitlement
That brings the rain or sun to shine
On meadows that we plant
We gather harvest of the field
Yet, who evokes the sod?
Can we preserve our freedom’s shield
Yet spurn the hand of God?
Excess of things leaves senses dulled
To need and poverty
Our reckoning is not annulled
By our prosperity
Winter, spring, summer and fall
Will we be diligent?
Or blindly stumble through them all
Pleading entitlement?
Janet Martin
Wow! Food for thought today…everyday.
Too many words spill
Regurgitated excess
On a clear fall day
no exceess of words – like that
Simply
Micro or Macro?
Excessively clear
Economies are shattered
Financial distress
Beautiful crisp haikued description of today… Purely stated!
Thanks, PKP!
the questions – very effective this one
Jane, thanks for the observation!
Pictures Galore
off to explore
what is outdoors
a world before dawn
a world beyond morn
to wait for the bird
a flash of blue wing
to capture nature
a scurry leaf crunch
deer leaps in swift moves
waxwings passing through
again and again
silence still broken
by whirr of close up
lens such a flutter
excess of digits
like magic within
the day will be gone
leave much to delete
space so demanding
now which ones to keep
much to ignore
pictures galore
Jane Penland Hoover
Love this Jane! I can relate!
enjoy visiting you site
For Their Freedom
Like a sleeping giant
Awakened from an ancient spell
We are aroused from our slumber,
Our senses, initially dulled
To the shame and turmoil are alerted
We see, we hear
The cries of abuse, despair and shame
The shock of the crime and the depth
Of man’s inhumanity to man
Overwhelm us, we stagger
We stumble backwards,
Disbelieving the reality, this truth
The victims of slavery in our world
Are ever increasing,
Let us stand and fight
For their freedom
The Joneses
Before they looked in the mirror
they would peer out the window.
Two by two they placed
each card on its edge,
propping it upright
until they could cap that level
and start yet another.
The slightest bump of the table
would cause a collapse.
They could not open a window
for fear that a cool breeze
would wipe out their efforts.
Still, they wanted no blinds,
shades or curtains and they kept
their lights on at night.
Perception stayed upstairs
while deception lived in their basement.
By Michael Grove
Terrific…especially last two lines “perception..upstairs…deception lived in their basement” intriguing
Sand
In my hair
In my clothes
Between my toes
On the floor
In the shower
In my bed
Insistent on staying
Like glitter
from a second grader’s valentine.
This is wonderful! Takes me back to some surprises from my children years ago!
This is so sweet! I love it Connie!
this is wonderful; the imagery is so fresh. I also appreciate the innovative take on this prompt – such a breath of fresh air.
“like glitter from a second grader’s valentine.” Love it!
Thanks, all!
Paying the Piper
We raised our standard to be excess
And built a house of credit card debt
We are shocked to learn to get by with less
And like it or not we helped create this mess
Some of our closets could shelter a family of four
It’s all excessive and yet we want more
We get fatter then pay a trainer at the gym
To work his magic and make us slim
We pay $5 for fancy coffee drinks
but don’t have any change for the bum on the streets.
We treat those below us as we are treated from above
When do we learn it’s all about love?
An excess of blame is the chorus line
The government! The banks! Where’s mine?
Honey, get over it, it’s not the economy,
It’s just the mirror of you and me.
Well said!
One (wo)Man Renga
My Mum always said
‘moderation in all things.’
Excess is more fun.
Too many words in a poem
make eyes and brain glaze over.
Excess of clutter
makes dusting into a chore;
better a clean sweep.
Too much food on the table
deprives me of appetite.
Too much chocolate
is impossible to find;
exception proves rule.
Excess of excesses is
the curse of society.
Actual details make your case!
Thank goodness too much chocolate is the exception. ^_^
Celebutantes
gluttonous egos
talentless
media train wrecks
this is great…”media train wrecks” is exactly right.
“media train wrecks”–so sadly true!
I actually wrote a post on one of my blogs about this: America’s Love of Train Wrecks.
This says it all. And if we didn’t watch, they wouldn’t be “celebutants” at all. Yet they always find more people excited to watch the train wreck… *sigh*
AMEN!
This is a 10!
hmmm… decided to change the last line
Celebutantes
gluttonous egos
talentless
media gold mines
I like this version too. It’s a sad thing when train wrecks become gold mines, because it just encourages people to drive their trains badly.
ARTERIAL IMPORTANCE (shadorma)
Some people
say they are online
way too much
and must stop.
For me, that would be much like
a severed lifeline.
2011-11-12
P. Wanken
I know, Paula. I would feel a bit lost without the connections I find here and a few other places.
I think those here (the poetry blogosphere) must know my heart more than those who never read my words…what friendships have grown as a result!
~CLEARLY~
Whisper of reason
Resting lightly
Listing impossibly
Options of opportunity
Poem of possibility
Untouchable, it slips
Wasted words
Spill themselves
Emptying basket
On the brink
Of writing something
Worthwhile.
In circumstances
Of wordless matter
I grasp at language greedily
Searching
Something rich and timeless
It lies just below the surface
Tidal pool
Rippling
Distorting my vision
Creatures move
Without my knowing
Without my ever
Seeing clearly.
But I know
I feel it
And it feels like
Love.
I like the way this progresses
Thank you so much, Genevieve! The creating of this one happened kind of blindly starting out and I was pleasantly surprised by the ending.
This is beautiful.
I appreciate your comment, Domino!! Smiles to you!
What’s the Point?
Technology Masters
Have too much time
On their geeky
Little
Hands
Obsoleting
My recent purchase
Making me buy
New to replace
No time to wear out
No time to figure out
Just when I grasp
A new version comes out
Too much
Too fast
Let us enjoy
Go relax!
Focus on
More useful things
Like time travel
and worm holes
and clearing garbage dumps
and less embarrassing airport security!
I am SO with you on this! Especially airport security!
I agree with you!
You can sing it to the tune of “We Gather Together”–altogether now onetwothree;>
Irony
Let’s gather together and eat all our blessings
To fall in food comas and wake to dessert
Then file onto deck chairs the weather permitting
And watch our kids playing while we reassert
Our dissatisfaction with life in our country
Economy-onomy woe and despair;
We’ll outline our poverty, rivaling each other,
Then go in for seconds, belts loosened with care.
very clever Jane. I like it and I even sang it!
Jane you are a master of much said with few words–love that you made it musical too!
Still singing …. Clever and true
Simply brilliant Jane! Bravo!
Excess pannus
It hangs like an apron
useless to her since she is not a cook
calling her names like morbid and obese
she is not pregnant either
judge her not
even if you know all the fats
and don’t have any
I like this poem, particularly the move from the metaphoric to real, e.g. “hangs like an apron/useless to her.” Unique.
Entrapment.
I just can’t keep my eyes off these
links and chains and boundless gates,
portals to enchanting words,
bewitching art, and things like that.
The eyes plead for sweet respite,
as hours sink down the drain
and paint wastes itself away,
sitting pretty like a sculpture.
All I wanted was to check
both messages and prompt today.
Next I find I’m steeped in tweets
that post their links to other treats.
The news headlines just make things worse—
another peek, a simple click.
And curiosity’s ensnared again
by links and chains and boundless gates.
TERRIFIC …. and oh so authentically shared and felt….the true excess of the instant information age TMI….
have you seen my cat?
Freedom of Excess
Freedom is a problem of extremes, of alls and nothings, no one glad to be a little bit free. The rich man and the pauper are both unworried about possessions, one with everything, the other with nothing, freed from ownership, but give a person those freedoms we call rights—to vote, to move, to think and to voice and more—and next thing you know, he wants freedom of excess, of stock-pile and hoard, of judgment of others, of do as he pleases without considering the rest, of envisioning himself as being and having it all, unhappy that his freedom isn’t free, has come hard-won, and hasn’t served him the world on a platter. Even relative freedom, like baby’s first sugary dessert, is addictive, delicious, dangerous fare, each fix leading us to greater, or lesser, need.
WOW… apologies for the simplistic response to a profoundly philosophic piece !
Sticky Web (a triolet)
I would surf the internet all day
if I had all day to spend.
Who wants to work when you can play?
I would surf the internet all day!
There are friends to skype, and things to say—
the fun would never end.
I would surf the internet all day
if I had all day to spend.
– Cara Holman
Yes, this could have fit into the “Addict prompt” too
Nice!
You’re right, Sara! I looked back to see what I wrote for my addict prompt, and it was… my laptop I sense a theme here.
“sock drawers…like angels descend to whisper…”
Good one !
“Well, yeah, it’s another perspective poem”
Sometimes
excess is measured
in millimeters.
Rain,
which would be beneath notice
in Seattle,
brings the desert into bloom
Atacama flowers
into brilliance
reminding us
that life
is tenacious
and will
shine
when given
the slightest
chance.
Sigh, Jerry how do you keep nailing these endings? So satisfying–they always strike that inner heart chord
Alright if foliowing Sara I will usually simply. “. “
You Will Love This Bag
Loneliness creeps
hiding my pain
of endless days
or infinity nights
where no one asks
my two cents worth.
With my ears cupped
craving any sound
of grinding gravel
or turning doorknobs
the clock seems stuck
at two a.m.
Alone I sit channel surfing
click, click, click,
of zealous preachers
or over caffeinated women
the designer handbag
at two hundred.
You have to call me
NOW!
The answer is, yes, I made that word up.
Vitamin Sea
Experts agree
Too much salt
Is bad for me
I disagree emphatically
Not in the form of
Turquoisity,
Sleek, shiny sea
Rhythmically rocking me
Should be taken daily
For tranquility deficiency
Ahhhhhhhhhh absolutely
Love this one! I need me some vitamin sea!
Great one, Sara.
Need
I’m guilty.
I’m an American
who has everything she needs
and more that she wanted
and now I find I am in excess.
All I want to do is purge.
I need to purge.
The excess in my life has
become an anchor
weighing me down -
but as I slowly give away,
sell, and recycle my excess
I can feel the anchor
rising slowly out of the muck.
Yes! This is exactly it. ^_^
excess poem – shadorma
***
In the park
Leaves have covered all
In the dark
Even then
See them burning red and gold
Melting you dizzy.
© 2011 Mariya Koleva
oh, this is BEAUTIFUL. You’ve made me miss the places where there’s a real fall.
Air, water, earth and fire
all I need to live and grow –
and a few good books
right to the point
Tech Race
Today I’m excited, I’m standing in line,
waiting my turn for the chance to get mine.
In the electronics world, it’s the best gizmo yet,
that brand-new amazing Goospangler – you bet!
I’ve got one! I’m the envy of all of my friends!
I’m ahead of the curve and all the high-tech trends.
But what’s this I hear? A new product coming?
The Goospangler 2′s got the whole geek world humming!
I’ve barely had my Goospangler six weeks,
and now comes the new one with all kinds of tweaks.
To keep myself current, I’ll have to upgrade,
and get version 2, so I’m not left in the shade.
But no sooner do I come home from the store
with the Goospangler 2, when I learn I need more!
The ad on TV says Goospangler 3′s out,
it’s much better than 2, of that there’s no doubt!
So I run to my nearest electronics shop,
when a sign in the window brings me to a stop:
“Version 3 is sold out, but let’s just cut the jive,
We’ve already got plenty of Goospangler 5!
We are so excited to give you much more,
that we skipped right over Goospangler 4!”
That’s the last straw – I go home in a flash,
take my Goospangler, throw it right in the trash.
So now all my tech friends think that I am a nut,
‘cos I live without gizmos in a little wood hut.
I’ve become a good hunter, and I am a good angler,
and life is just fine, thanks, without a Goospangler!
“Goospangler!” I love it!
love the Suessiness quality!
Exactly – the Seussiness. ^_^
Love that word!
XS
Divorce has thrown open doors: de-tamed;
i plunge out in v-dresses and skyscraper heels.
To think that once a smaller me bowed in dim incense
clouds over confirmation pews, counting days!
After catechism in church bathrooms,
i lined my lids with thick kohl; I confirmed regardless.
And confirmed again at an altar. But much has passed since then.
Now i am wild; i line my eyes black, again, and enter tonight.
Now my church is my home: Amsterdam
and the dance floor and bodies and vodka cola;
I give my soul,
in confirmation,
to this black night.
***********************************
CMC
XS
Divorce has thrown open doors: de-tamed;
i plunge out in v-dresses and skyscraper heels.
To think that once a smaller me bowed in dim incense
clouds over confirmation pews, counting days!
After catechism in church bathrooms,
i lined my lids with thick kohl; I confirmed regardless.
And confirmed again at another altar. But much has passed since then.
Now i am wild; i line my eyes black, again, and enter tonight.
Now my church is my home: Amsterdam
and the dance floor and bodies and vodka cola;
I give my soul,
in confirmation,
to this black night.
***********************************
CMC
(“another altar” struck me as clearer than “an…”)
So vivid – The title XS sets the tone. Wow.
Day 12 11-12-2011
Write an excess poem.
Too Much Is Not Enough
She came from Russia,
where she stood in stereotypical lines
at a bakery, trying to buy one loaf of bread.
When she entered the Kroger,
she couldn’t fathom the plenty–
colors of produce spilling across displays,
shelves of every kind of bread or bun or muffin, even tortillas,
freezers jammed with rows of ice cream
from banana to strawberry,
an aisle of waters, juices, sodas,
cans stacked containing everything from artichokes to turnips,
varieties and brands vying for attention.
She shook her head, searching for the words.
“So much, so much. How can you ever choose?”
Wow… I love this view of the prompt.
Brilliant direction Karen, with a ring of truth! Bravo!
Waiting for Review
There are too many books on my reading pile.
On top of the computer
where’s the scanner gone?
And on the shelves pached sideways in and books on–
Books from publishers, books from Amazon
all waiting for a review. Awe inspiring poetry
awe-full and awful piled three, six, ten high
waiting for my critical pen but what do I know?
I know enough to say
‘I loved this book, perhaps you will too’
and sometimes that’s all a buyer wants to hear.
But books I’ve bought myself
for sheer delight and joy
of reading,
learning
and being inspired…
they have to wait for me to finish the reviews
but there are too many.
You’ll have to wait…
The one thing having a Nook has done is that now my piles of books to read are mainly electronic. LOL I love this poem. ^_^
Glutton’s Glass
Lined up in rows
one by one, perfectly positioned
on the fence spokes, railings, stairs
like Hansel and Gretel leaving
a trail of crumbs,
pathway to Bingeland
green glass bottles once full, now consumed
marking their way in our minds,
whispering ‘I’m in the fridge. Just grab me’
up and down the stairwells, on the hallway floor
used as vases on the kitchen table,
Heck, the dog water gets poured by the glass
his white skank lounging on the back porch with her brew
as Dad is passed out in his own pool of piss
till 5 o’clock strikes again, the show resumes
Starring Smirnoff, Tyku and Stella,
house is full but never his glass.
Stark and moving. Good job at the prompt.
Bingeland it is.
Discarded
Search my garbage can
Judge whether I have excess
From that thrown away
Man, I can’t shake this rhyming thing today. That hardly ever happens. Apologies for excessive rhyme;)
Bibliophile
I have more books housed than is safe,
Long walls full to the brim,
Upright and lying on their sides,
Stacked ready should my whim
Today be fiction, poetry,
Biography, memoir,
Historical or musical,
This is my reservoir—
Collected human knowledge
Brought from cultures everywhere,
In languages I no longer read,
But for which I still care.
I know my greed for friendly read—
The message hoarding sends—
But every book fulfills some need.
Can I have too many friends?
Never. I can never have too many either. ^_^
I like the rhyme:) Wonderful excess!
It is my biggest “vice.” ; )
How we live together
The straight branches, static with lines
of oval leaves, now unmask their
spangles of deep, sensuous red -
more cherries than we can eat. We
thank the green finches, the shiny
crows, the fall-rounded squirrels
who share with us, scattering the
still-moist pits on welcoming earth.
Take One, Take All
“Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps.” William Blake
Taken in the greater scheme,
The whole of this existence,
What harm can tears do?
Those barely flake a grain of sand
From stone. A million years
May pass, and still, so little
Dent is made, that none may tell it.
Why not, then, look with gratitude,
On tiny daily gifts, sufficient,
Not without the sorrow brought by life,
But also with the wails of joy,
Loud enough to cleanse
An earth cracked open.
Oh, wonderfully written!
Grazie mille!
It’s All Just a Bit Much
What makes them think
That I want more friends.
I’m never apt to meet any of them face to face,
exchange a smile,
A warm embrace,
social networks feeding themselves
On numbers, nonsensical digits in thousands
Of make-believe friends
With make-believe names,
Following trending words,
snipped and clipped thoughts like box hedges.
We on tiptoes and dancing on hot coals,
Keeping it short and specific
Words abbreviated into sharp shapes.
The excesses of numbers
An overload of information,
I’m drowning in it, my head
Only occasionally above it all
So that I can gasp at some air,
Grasp another person who’s
Also bobbing for numbers
Like bright shiny apples in a tub.
We’re fish being shot at in a barrel.
I don’t want more friends,
I’ll tend and care for those that I have.
Not very social, I know.
Too Much Food
Pot roast made for six or eight
Dessert as well, you’d wager
The hearty appetites to sate
of two or three teenagers.
Homemade lasagna, oven baked
with garlic bread all toasty
This kind of cooking can’t be faked
and that’s not being boasty.
Since nine or ten I’ve baked the bread
I was my mom’s apprentice
My sibs and then my kids were fed
Mountainous meals momentous.
And so you see why now I find
myself in a bit of trouble.
My recipes all seem so blind
to cook for just a couple.
I try to make the meals more small
Enough for two is plenty
But always fall under the thrall
of food for more than twenty.
I watch my waistline with concern
It’s having such a high time.
I think with practice I can learn
to cook meals for two this lifetime
In the meanwhile the neighborhood
stray cats and dogs are thriving
on all the leftover meals and such
on my front porch arriving.
Diana Terrill Clark
wonderful journey of a lifetime of cooking!
I did it this morning too: made one recipe of waffles. That is about 10 waffles. Two people eat 3 or 4 waffles. *sigh* Thanks Taratyler!
Dumpster Diving
In our neighborhood
we find
so many people
are so wasteful
as to throw things
away
when they are perfectly
good
items.
This may sound gross
and I’m sure
someone
will think it
disgusting,
but
sometimes
I go
dumpster diving.
It’s not for me,
it’s just that
I can’t abide things
landing
in a landfill
when local
charities
can surely use
and sell
those things.
Though I admit,
I did find
a perfectly lovely
steamer trunk
from 1919 one time
and now
it is my living room
coffee table.
Diana Terrill Clark
excess (how hard it is to be simple)
How could I pare my life down so that it was only
As much as I could give thanks for
As it was when I
Had only
Your one
Sweet
Kiss
What comforts would I let go of, adventures undo
So that I could retain it all
And no companion
Regrets, just
The few
Best
Things
Freedom is an exercise in directing focus
Away from both clutter and spite.
Position without
Delusion
The frame.
Love’s
Art
Oh, that’s lovely…
Aha!!! back up to date after getting a couple of days behind!!!
72” Plasma and Popcorn
Big car
big house
big debt
no regret
large coke
large fries
supersize me
no shame
500watts
surround sound
72” plasma
no curtains
popcorn
popcorn
popcorn
popcorn till you burst!
Iain
yes! way to go Iain!
SATURDAY SCHOOLYARD
November leaves fly across the lawn.
Cold after rain. Playing-fields deserted.
On every fence hang small dark jackets,
hoodies, sodden lumps of sweaters,
a single mitten. Where have the children
gone? Flown like geese to warmer climes?
Did they simply outgrow themselves?
Have they found a world without need
of wardrobe? A place where wishes
grow like running-shoes on trees,
in a town called Forever-Weekend,
in the Kingdom of What-If?
My response may be found here:
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2011/11/12/access-or-excess/
Thanks
American
After you buy the doll, the doll needs clothes,
a period costume in miniature, down to the shoes.
And after that, there are the accessories shown
in the catalog picture, and without which the doll
does not look complete. Also there are tiny foods
for tiny plates; the doll needs to eat, too, though
her mouth is only open enough to expose two
small, white teeth beyond pink lips, parted slightly
in anticipation of whatever your doll anticipates,
depending on the historical period. This could be
a barn dance, perhaps, or a rent party, and then
your doll will need the accessories that go with
this event. She’ll come with one book, but there
are many others, and the stated purpose of this
whole exercise is for your daughter to learn
about a certain time and place, and thus about
herself, and self-esteem or something like that,
so you need all the books, if you’re going to
do a halfway decent job with all of this. Did you
know that many dolls have friend dolls, too?
That’s where it gets really fun! Just imagine
your daughter’s face when the catalog comes
to your house, laden with delights, promises
that can be fulfilled, one velvet fainting couch
at a time, one flannel doll-and-girl-sleepover set
at a time, and all it takes is money; all it takes
is to swallow hard, not run away in a sudden,
ill-timed fit of either panic or good sense.
Excellent take on the prompt. Bravo you!
MUCH TO MUCH
24 hours sometimes isn’t enough.
Many places to go,
many things to do.
And when we’re through,
our frailties are exposed.
Weakened and tired
doing more than you should
to do you any good.
You fight the addiction,
a result of your excesses,
and you address the problem
the way you always do it.
Working through it.
Your Catch-22.
NEVER ENOUGH
The chasm is wide
and you look to hide from it
running as far as your fingers can fly.
Out there is an answer,
but you can’t be sure
it would solve it all. So you call
out across the meadow, an oasis.
The place where you can just be.
And when freedom is granted,
your hand trembles grasping -
gasping for the resuscitation of
compassion and passion’s breath..
A life taken for granted
is life not lived. A life shared
is the expression of love
in excess. But with each caress
it becomes obvious,
there is never enough.
Love this one Walt, especially
…………………………”So you call
out across the meadow, an oasis.
The place where you can just be.”
and the wisdom within the ending.
Smiles
Excess of Distress
Throughout this world,
many people deal
with an excess of distress
in their lives. Mortgage
is due, one hundred
resumes were not enough,
the refrigerator holds
a couple of store-brand
sodas, and the pantry
has a paltry three cans
of tuna, and one jar
of peanut butter. I guess
we can take our children’s
college education off
the table, along with our food.
I have no excess
For I’ve only been married once
And once is enough
Why did I write that?
Sometimes I crack myself up
Funny, my mind is
What should I write next
Maybe I’ll be serious
That’s a funny one
Since I have been so verbose so far this month, just think I’ll make the poem short, sweet and simple and . . . straight to the heart!
E X C E S S
In a word . . .
BIRD!
Fly away . . .
Excessive anything . . . go away!
Please . . . today!
I must unload,
Any heavy load,
Not in the road,
Rather off my chest,
Faith takes care of the rest,
Simple remedy is the best!
Instead of what is burdened, go light!
Have it brighten the darkest night,
Cancel fright!
Trust totally . . . it is an art!
Good place to start,
AHHHH . . .
Must be . . .
An enlightened heart!
Multi-Watching
I sit on the couch, feet up,
dachshund, Murphy, on lap,
watching an episode
of The Good Wife. Suddenly,
a dancing man appears in the bottom
left corner of my screen, an ad
for an upcoming show. Meanwhile,
credits for the program I have been viewing
for five minutes, pop up across characters’
stomachs as they walk. But wait, what is that line
of news streaming along the bottom?
If I don’t read it, will I be sorry and unprepared?
If I do read it, will I even remember
in which show I was engrossed?
I sit on the couch, feet up,
but Murphy jumps off my lap,
races in front of the television,
body stretched, ears alert,
to bark at another dog who has the gall
to appear on screen, unbidden, and barking.
Possessions
There’s an obstacle course in Times Square ~
unopened cardboard boxes clog narrow aisles,
broad-shouldered parkas jam crowded racks,
platoons of shoppers forge through
an Everest of military paraphernalia
in Kaufman’s Army and Navy on 42nd Street.
Don’t scoff at the possibilities in this slightly unclean bazaar:
bazooka bags and military vests,
medals from distant armies,
blue-and-white-striped Russian Navy sweaters,
olive drab Austrian army jackets,
British motorcycle goggles,
ropes,
tarps,
maps,
canteens,
ammo cans,
black Cadillacs,
gas masks ~
stuff you never imagined you’d have a sudden desire to own.
Excesses
There is an excess of space
Between the hair follicles on my head
And that excess space is seemingly
Increasing with age
What to do?
With the hair I have left
The white exceeds the rest
Even where the short hairs grow
Is this normal?
What’s up with that?
There is an excess of belt overhang
Especially in the front
That just seems to increase in mass
As I get older
What to do?
The bills are piling up
My excess of cash is disappearing
As the economy tanks
And we all fall down
When will it stop?
Excessive worry plagues me
As our nation moves further from God
Our leaders no longer lead
As they should
What can be done?
Time for an excess of prayer
Time to get on our knees
And ask Him for help
He will provide in excess
Will you pray with me?
The “ Incubator”
Weather-razed and tumbledown the last
Of the “company housing” for the workers
Brought over from Eastern Europe
At the turn of the last century
When steel reigned supreme.
Steel. The king of all industry
Steel- Whose fiery furnaces brightened
The night skies so that only daylight
Was what the children remembered–
A constant daytime that never ended and never
Began.
The walls of the houses bulged with too many
Children. Too many families sharing the few
Rooms. Crowding out the doors where hastily
Built add-ons protected from neither rain nor snow.
Cooking went on all day and all night as the workers
Slept, woke and worked according to the company
Schedule; the company wrote the liturgy of these
Hours, it was the company who decided who was
Fit to be a C ompany Man” and live with his company
Family in the company house and buy his needs
On credit at the “company store.”
How do I know it’s enough?
It is impossible to describe a sky like this
on a street like this, where autumn’s scattered
clutter quashes any uncolored thought
under the rose bottoms of pebbled clouds speckled
across the blithe peek and last goodnight of the sun.
I’m sitting here picturing your sky
and I think the answer to your title
is that for that moment, it is enough.
Enjoyed this.
This prompt was fun, here’s my in Excess response….
http://ahhhpoetry.wordpress.com/2011/11/12/in-excess/
stop by and read
A Weighty Solution
In the bottom drawer
the treasure lay hidden,
those forty plus pieces
molded to precise shape
and each of equal weight.
Individually wrapped in
silver and stacked atop
each other, sending out
a siren cry so tempting
that I finally succumbed.
Late one night I crept out
of bed and tiptoed across
the floor to tug the knobs
and pull wide the drawer.
My fingers snatched a bar.
Back in bed I unwrapped
my stolen bit of treasure
and sank my teeth deep
into a corner, not to test
authenticity but to taste.
Leftover chocolate bars,
fundraisers for the school
my child attended, so I
bought and shared them,
but each night I ate one.
Robert, finally got over here to pick up the prompt and read your sample. What a beautiful sample it is. What a terrific daddy, and one day the poems you write for/to/about your children will mean the world to them. You warm my heart.
and here’s my contribution:
an excess of words
Pingback: November PAD Challenge 12 « Yay Words!
“Hoarders”
During the night, if you listen really
close you can hear them stacking their piles
with skill and precision—corner piling,
rafter piling, basement piling, attic piling.
There’s a method to their madness,
a resolve their steps—
this need to cleave.
Sometimes I glance a nose poking out
a freshly dug tunnel through last year’s
stash of goods. Mostly, I see trails of
hair and dust.
To think I used to admire them, enable
them, encourage them, even collect
bags of loot for them.
That was then.
Now, we shoot them
with a repeating BB gun to scare the
living daylights out of the seventy times seven
generations of bushy-tailed hoarders who
year after year commandeer our attic to use
as their winter warehouse.
Ha! Really nice J.Lynn
My wife and I laugh sometimes about that because her grandfather used to be very nasty enemy to the squirrels trying to protect his crop of pecans. We just thought they were cute until they chewed through the a huge bundle of engine wiring in our jeep (which cost us much money). After that we bought a bunch of traps and relocated an entire brood to the lake. Fun poem.
Thanks, Dan. Oh, yes, we too trap and relocate instead of shooting them as our neighbors do. (Strangely it is now against our county laws to trap them.) But, yes they are destructive. They have chewed through our soffits, insulation, had babies, parties, and funerals in our attic. At least that’s what it sounds like when the extended family gathers up there.
Pingback: Arterial Importance (NaNoWriMo – Day 12) « echoes from the silence
OVERFLOW (a shadorma)
He says to
drink Living Water
to be filled
completely.
Only then can I pour out
His love to others.
2011-11-12
P. Wanken
Photographing in the Age of Digital
So handy these new cameras with the touch screens
And the memory cards and the unlimited ability
To zoom and take all manner of different shots
For experimentation purposes or just to have
And there are no film or development costs involved
So why not take ten of the same thing – after all
You can just delete the ones you don’t want
Immediately or, after downloading them, right?
So of course – you remember professionals saying
For every contact sheet of roughly fifty shots
If you get one exceptional photo – that’s a good shoot
And damned if you don’t find yourself doing the same
Taking shot after shot of a flower or the moon or a dog
With different settings, from slightly different angles
Ending up with hundreds and hundreds of flowers
And puppies and moons, all taking up space –
First on your camera’s memory card – then
On your computer’s hard-drive – because really,
Who has time to cull all those photos except
Maybe sometime if you’re in the mood
Or, you’re really looking for something specific
And handy starts to feel oppressive
Just one more thing you have on your list
Of things to do – and having so many photos?
Really feels excessive and, you know it is
Likewise an excellent take on the prompt! Wish I would have thought of it, good for you!
Superfluous
(a shadorma)
It spills out,
this doubt, from heart’s cracked
places, these
cold chambers
containing too much of you
and not enough me.
Hey De, Just read your Superfluous.
There’s nothing like a sweet ol’ shadorma.
What a mess
Excess, excess
Oh what mess.
To bask in the culture
Of overindulgence.
Spoiled,
in the land of plenty.
Taking for granted
the things at hand.
Quick, impatient,
Convenience on demand.
But even with the
overabundance of
paraphernalia
There is still emptiness
deep within.
EXCESSIVE LOVE
Can one ever be told
too many times they are loved?
Can one ever be held
too long? Too often?
Is it possible
at the end of one’s life
to say they gave too much
of their time to the ones they loved?
The questions seem
almost silly.
Yet the world is filled
with too much besides love.
Oh that it could be
said of me when I am old…
that she loved, she gave,
and always had time to hold.
2011-11-12
P. Wanken
In reading your words Paula, I’m sure that is something you’ll hear often. You seem to write your heart as well as I’ve read here or anywhere. Nice work.
I agree!
Good job Paula
Love the title “Excessive Love”.
Splendid.
Walt…thank you. Your words warm my heart.
Hannah…thank you, too.
Benjamin…I wrote others first…but this one wouldn’t let go. The title came first!
Pingback: Excessive Love (NaNoWriMo – Day 12) « echoes from the silence
Apologies, but it’s way past my bed time, and I really don’t want to fall behind — having only recently caught up, so this is the best I can do for now. It’s off to bed for this Bonzo!
Too Tired
Long day
many minutes,
breaths gone by
sleep is calling me
eyelids getting heavy
list of good ideas must wait
(for another day – or two… or more)
at present, all I have is an excess of TIRED!
I feel you.
Sleep is definitely not in excess this days!
Distraction
Kids plug their earbuds in
to study. Adult researchers
demonstrate that’s not
the best way to learn,
but we learn to grow
in chaos scatter,
looking up from this
moment to do that
or the other. Under
ringing phones and
beep greetings that say
a new stimulus
package has passed
the house. Outside
the garbage truck
rolls by, the phone
wires make a canopy
ignored under the sky,
taken for granted, and
inside the gurgling
of these body machines,
what we grow on,
when we grow, is
an excess of gratitude.
TMI: Actual Online Conversation with Person I’ve Never Met, About Persons I’ve Never Met
(Names have been changed)
Paula: Marie, have you heard from Marge? I sent her a critique days ago, and have not heard from her. She never takes more than a few hours to respond, and I’m concerned.
Me: Well, her sister was having coffee and reading the paper on the porch this morning. If something was wrong with Marge, she wouldn’t have been casually enjoying her morning. I’m sure we don’t have anything to worry about.
LAME poem, but my brain is fried and I’m going to bed. And it really is true.
Pingback: Sticky Web | Prose Posies
Robert, Your poem today was simply stunning.
(again – a late entry it’s only 9.07pm where I am)
Gluttony
I looked I the pantry
and the only thing there
was self-discipline.
It needed something.
So I dusted it in powdered sugar
deep-fried it until it was brown
walloped a dollop of whipped cream
smeared some French dressing
dashed in salt and pepper
dipped it in Belgian chocolate,
then let it marinade in a
mixture of balsamic vinegar
and peanut M&Ms.
Then I baked it in ginger
chopped it into squares
butterscotch fondued it
and after it hardened
I glazed it in Devil’s Spit
barbeque sauce
and sprinkled it with
brown sugar
and once it cooled
I popped it in my mouth
and it was ambrosial,
so I went back and
ate the whole
disgusting
mess.
Thanks everybody. Yes, I was definitely going for “Suessiness” here.
Pingback: Is That Too Much To Ask? | TrollPants 2.0
Is That Too Much To Ask?
I couldn’t help but notice
That you’re here all by yourself.
I’m kind of at loose ends as well;
My social life is on the shelf…
I’m making you uncomfortable.
Please, you can drop the mask.
I only want to sit and talk.
Is that too much to ask?
I’ve never been in here before.
It’s kind of dark, but nice.
Reminds me of a joint
My ex and I went into once or twice.
We’d order coffee, which she’d dose
With syrup from a flask…
I’d like to buy us both a cup.
Is that too much to ask?
Your hair’s a lot like hers, except
She parted it like this…
She’d pull it back behind her ears,
A LIVESTRONG bracelet on her wrist,
Like this one. Would you like it?
I believe in Lance’s task,
Don’t you? No, please, the other wrist.
Is that too much to ask?
When we’d go out on chilly nights
I’d offer her my sweater
And drape it ‘cross her shoulders
Just like this…I think you wear it better.
Your cheek’s so soft and warm,
Like hers. What’s wrong? Was that too fast?
I’m sorry. Please, one little kiss.
Is that too much to ask?
I’ve made you mad. I’m sorry.
I just don’t know what to do.
Since she’s been gone it’s all been wrong
Until I set my eyes on you.
My heart was lost; you found it,
Like those dogs that carry casks
Around their necks. Please, rescue me?
Is that too much to ask?
http://trollpants.wordpress.com
Things I wish weren’t true
Yes, as a matter of fact – I do know what excess
is, and the pros and cons. Too easy to view it
one way or the other – “too much of a muchness”
just isn’t that simple. For example – what would
you be doing if you had a million dollars, right now?
And what would it be if you’d always had it? How
much is too much, and how would you know? Once
upon a time there was a Cinder-Ella, tucked away
in a high school where the upper crust of “there”
wasn’t really that much to write home – wherever
that is – about. It’s all relative, and my, are they
there when you’re the one loaded and they are not.
The reverse is also true. So… how much is enough?
A tricky question. Once I said to a handsome young
psychologist, replete with BMW’s and foreign houses –
“expenses expand to fill available income – plus ten
percent,” and he nodded wisely, just like he knew
what I meant. Betcha he didn’t. “Oh, just gimme
that million!” chirp my friends. I know money has
its costs, but I want my chance to find out for myself!”
Exactly, oh exactly, the magic words that open up
the drama box. You see, it’s not the taxes or the
management of funds that gets you down, or even
the pernicious change among your friends who
want their bit. Nor is it the snarling of family
members, eager to gnaw the riches off the bone
before the golden goose is dead. It is the stranger things,
like what your cousin does for fun to fill the
dead space too much cash has shaded out. Hooking
on the beach, perhaps. Or going into business where
the competition is spelled “m-o-b”. Or handing over
speed to Mom who must keep her figger at all costs
and does. Could anyone ever bear to use that tub
where she overdosed? Or to face the father the kids
accused of murder and withholding the estate?
And with it, there’s the eternal question you must ask
each time – is he just in it for my money? And in your
hip pocket the knowledge that bankruptcy will prove
who loves you most when you need them most.
Luckily, poor is more interesting. But you’d like your chance.
Peace of Cake
by Rachel Hyde
In this house, there is an excess
of granola bar wrappers, outsides—
I’m not kidding.
Everywhere a child-culprit
comes to defile a surface with the litter
of snacking and leisure.
Six, seven, eight children
consume by case; allow me
my case. Where did they come from?
You can work all day for a drink
and never find a clean glass;
Who is crying? Such a sensitivity
to injustice; how fair
a future we’ll see!
Oh, they are clever
and pretty, too,
but their kingdom offers no order.
Who is the muse of rules,
the poet of consequence?
Who can sing their shape,
then hide from the song?
Someone is always playing the piano,
but the broom goes unused.
Short and sweet. I’ve been pickin’!
Too much
You can have
too much of a good thing,
too much sun,
too much to do,
too many responsibilities,
too much chocolate.
You can never have
too much music,
too much time,
too much encouragement,
too many friends,
too much love
Enough
No it’s never enough
Make preparations
Work all day
New ideas
New explorations
If it doesn’t work
There is much to do
If it does
Still much to do
Some say it is excess
Still it isn’t enough
A Power Greater Than Myself
My life is tied to a power strip
To charge the new essentials of my life
IPod, IPad, cell phone, GPS, netbook, laptop, Kindle/Nook, camera
Old houses in constant danger
Every outlet sending out power
TV, DVD, DVR, Microwave, MP3 player, clock radio
Lamps with CFLs, oven, refrigerator, humidifier, dehumidifier
Batteries power
Candles that burn without fire
Remote controls for TV, DVR, MP3 and more
There is no darkness in the world
Or silence
The soft blue green glow of LEDs
Surround me in a haze of gentle light and a constant hum
White noise to prove that everything is working properly
I miss the coffee shop on the corner
The pad and pencil that were my tools
The night sky filled with stars
The roar of ocean waves and leafy breezes
Connection to a source that wasn’t limited to
An outlet and a power cord
Another great take on this prompt. Bravo!
Post-Halloween Excess
The discount stores are stuffed with cheap
made-in-China Christmas decorations.
Shoppers wield carts, perusing Styrofoam
trees, plastic gingerbread men, blue
and silver tinsel, and poorly painted
Santa signs. Somewhere in Taiwan,
are workers asking who buys these gaudy
items? As they paint noses on reindeer,
are they wondering what creature
is so revered that 10,000 are needed
by Thursday to ship overnight?
Meanwhile, the witches, pumpkins,
and ghosts sit in bins marked 50% off.
Pingback: Rescued by Kindness (NaNoWriMo – Day 13) « echoes from the silence
Shorn
As my hair falls to the linoleum
in red-brown heaps, like goals
in the worst pick-up-sticks game ever
I notice my headache is gone
and I wonder what each of us carries
unnoticed, burdening
I think of how free I feel
without shoes, without glasses,
without a wristwatch
I wonder whether it’s possible
to be so light I’d lift off and
glide on an updraft
and how long, then,
before I’d hit those low-hanging
branches or the power line.
Pamela Murray Winters
Too Much to Bear
The worlds starving
observe the fed
The worlds sick
observe the healthy
The worlds poor
observe the waste
The worlds angry
observe the unjust
The worlds uneducated
observe what fools we are
The worlds uneducated
observe the fools
strange, I thought I posted this already. Anyway, here it is, even though a bit late.
***
In the park
Leaves have covered all
In the dark
Even then
See them burning red and gold
Melting you dizzy.
© 2011 Mariya Koleva
a girl can never have too much chocolate
by juanita lewison-snyder
a girl can never have
too much chocolate,
white, dark, milk, mint
nut or fruit flavored,
dipped, swirled, shaved,
powdered, syrup, sugar-free
or chocked full of holes.
when my time is up
i want a lethal cocoa drip
in my left arm with a
willy wonka movie on the
flat screen above my bed,
and a celebrity type roast
funeral with mourners
gathered around campfires
toasting me with a
smore in each hand,
for you see
a girl can never have
too much chocolate!
© 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
The Hipsters
In their skinny jeans
with ‘tudes
hipsters flock the streets
stretched ears and ink
they play with their Imacs
Ipads and I wonder
how long does it take
to look so utterly disheveled
to blend into the city
strutting with indifference
waiting for watchers
searching
amongst millions of stars
which one is mine?
Too Timing
I know too well this too-familiar
smell, of clouds too full with
raindrops too heavy to remain
in the too-fluffy mesh that
envelops them too weakly.
It’s been too long since the
too-wet atmosphere has
deigned to discharge its
too-delayed deluge on the
too-parched terrain.
I’m too excited to care that
too many people will take
too little caution when
driving in these too-unusual,
as of late, conditions;
rather, I’m too preoccupied
with too-intense emotions
regarding the too-extended
drought we deserved
far too little
finally coming to an
all-too-timely end.
It’s almost too much excitement
for one man to handle, too.
Plateau
When acid tabs no longer charm the spine,
but merely tingle in the sodden brain;
when opium can’t erase the scrawl of time,
its grail of emptiness poured down the drain;
the absinthe bottle with nothing left to bleed,
no verdant visions, no ecstatic fits;
the joint smoked down to blackened roach and seed,
with no release in spite of all the hits;
that is exhausted love: the soul gone pale,
devoid of throb and flow, not knowing yet
what has gone wrong; the soul will wilt and fail,
not from starvation, but the toil and sweat
to draw from wells run dry: it hauls up mud
but craves it, pining still for poisoned blood.
ENOUGH
You should have stopped talking
five minutes ago.
I get the point already.
Excessive Shadorma
“Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess.” ~Oscar Wilde
Excesses
make Reality
TV work.
Just look at
Kim Kardashian’s wedding…
Total overkill.
###
Been sick…again…so I’m a bit behind, figured why not write a bit about worry!
“Over-thinking”
crumpled thoughts
found scattered across
the frayed edge
of my mind
take root to fertilize an
excess of worry.
STARVING
No food
for eight days.
Just realized
I can’t eat
My 52-inch,
HD TV.
***
a fear of
***
baby on baby
violence
continues to be
the number one
reason
daycares
across the country
do not report
the imaginary
friends
of illegals
Three for one day, and completely out of order, lol
Pamela
“Is There Ever An Excess of Nature”
Too Much of Enough
He did things impulsively–quick and fast
left a relationship strained, a wonder
it lasted
operated in terms of excess,
turned her world all around,
left her nearly deranged
And she obsessed about ways
to make it work, then plans
to get out
He thought in excess, destroying
all around
while she strived to keep all four feet
on solid ground