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The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 193

I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Someone on a drunken spree
With all of their might
Gave me new height
Here for all to see

I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Not really where I should be
I’m usually found
Much nearer the ground
Lined up uniformly

I’m a traffic cone up a tree
It makes me feel rather free
To have reached a place
No other cone’ll grace
Fills me with real glee

I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Plastic and bright orangey

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Monkey Butt with Choca Mocha

It's not my favorite...
But it's hot!
This flavor tasted that I've got!
It satisfies a need that's fed...
A craving that has stopped inside my head!

A temporary drop,
In my pocket.
I will admit a feeding has been met!
A soothing to a drooling has been cooled.
Addicted to a moment of regret that's soothed!

Put a double on the cone for me!
With a cherry on the top...
Sitting on whipped cream with meaning!

Put a double on the cone for me!
Since you're out of Maple Nut...
I'll take take two scoops of 'Monkey Butt'.
And come back and get that 'Choca Mocha'!

[...] Read more

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Tableau at Twilight

I sit in the dusk. I am all alone.
Enter a child and an ice-cream cone.

A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.

The friendly embers warmer gleam,
The cone begins to drip ice cream.

Cones are composed of many a vitamin.
My lap is not the place to bitamin.

Although my raiment is not chinchilla,
I flinch to see it become vanilla.

Coniferous child, when vanilla melts
I’d rather it melted somewhere else.

Exit child with remains of cone.
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone,

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Progress in the Pacific

Lapp'd in blue Pacific waters lies an isle of green and gold,
A garden of enchantment such as Eden was of old;
And the innocent inhabitants, pure children of the sun,
Resembled those of Eden, too—in more respects than one.

But included in its list of charms this peaceful isle possessed
A feature that seemed rather out of keeping with the rest;
A huge volcano frowned above palm-grove and taropatch
That ev'n for Krakatoa might have proved an equal match.

“Might have proved,” I say advisèdly,—for ages now had past
Since this passion-worn volcano in a fit had breathed its last;
Now flowery vegetation draped its shoulders like a shawl—
Only the sullen cone stood unapparelled over all.

To this happy bower of innocence, this Island of the Blest,
Came two Melbourne Presbyterians—no matter on what quest—
Leading men in Church and Market, always found within the ring,
John McTaggart, William Wallace, Agents for—for everything.

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The Headless Trooper

“No; not another step, for all
The troopers out of hell!
I'll camp beside this swamp to-night,
Despite the yarns you tell.
I'm dead beat, that's a solid fact;
The other thing's a sell.”

And Ike gave in—good, easy Ike;
Though now and then he stole
A glance across that dismal swamp,
Lugubriously droll;
'Twas plain that Headless Trooper lay
Heavily on his soul.

And, ere he slept, again he told
That tale of bloody men;
And how the Headless Trooper still
Rode nightly in the fen;
And then he slept, but in his sleep
He told it all again.

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Ralph Waldo Emerson

Monadnoc

Thousand minstrels woke within me,
"Our music's in the hills; "—
Gayest pictures rose to win me,
Leopard-colored rills.
Up!—If thou knew'st who calls
To twilight parks of beech and pine,
High over the river intervals,
Above the ploughman's highest line,
Over the owner's farthest walls;—
Up!—where the airy citadel
O'erlooks the purging landscape's swell.
Let not unto the stones the day
Her lily and rose, her sea and land display;
Read the celestial sign!
Lo! the South answers to the North;
Bookworm, break this sloth urbane;
A greater Spirit bids thee forth,
Than the gray dreams which thee detain.

Mark how the climbing Oreads

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Self-centered....

the blond
has a hand that carries a cone of
vanilla ice cream

it is summer

he looks at the sea
and lets his ice cream melt
not licking it yet

the sea is so blue

a woman looks at his
well chiseled body his
butterfly back
his abs and
strong arms

the ice cream melts

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Hyperbola & Parabola

A friend of mine wants to take his daughter to a Montessori school in Riverside,
Where the Director is my old mathematician teacher.
(A daughter of a Supreme court Judge)
She acts as she doesn't recognize me
And I heard that she entirely forgotten our mother tongue too
As she won't touch the spicy food now.
Never mind Ms.Paranola but still I remember the Trigonometry lessons you taught us enthusiastically;
Hyperbola: ' The curve produced by a cut made through a cone at an angle with the base greater than that of the side of the cone.'
Dear Ms.Paranola,
I am so sorry but I have to mention this to you that I am a Parabola now.
(A curve like that path of an object that's thrown into the air and falls back to Earth.)

*Dedication to Ms.Luisa.Moldonado

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George Meredith

Change In Recurrence

I

I stood at the gate of the cot
Where my darling, with side-glance demure,
Would spy, on her trim garden-plot,
The busy wild things chase and lure.
For these with their ways were her feast;
They had surety no enemy lurked.
Their deftest of tricks to their least
She gathered in watch as she worked.

II

When berries were red on her ash,
The blackbird would rifle them rough,
Till the ground underneath looked a gash,
And her rogue grew the round of a chough.
The squirrel cocked ear o'er his hoop,
Up the spruce, quick as eye, trailing brush.
She knew any tit of the troop

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A walk in the countryside

What a lovely day for a walk
a nice ramble in the countryside
take in all the lovely scenery
the flowers, the fields, the birds.
What's that over there in the distance?
something Red in colour by that hedge.
I hope it's a Fox they are beautiful,
it hasn't moved so I may get up close.
What a let down it's a traffic cone!
Hope I see something more interesting
than a stupid traffic cone on my walk.
What's that rustling noise?
Could be a Pheasant or a Partridge,
on closer inspection I see the noise
is not from a bird but a bloody crisp packet!
As I walk on I tread in Cow dung, fag packets,
used condoms, and endless empty beer cans.
I've been walking for over an hour now
and along with the cans and the crisp packets
I've seen two Tesco trolleys, a Microwave Oven,

[...] Read more

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