but aren't they all random?



A Pocketful of Poesy was a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog* up until the great derail of 2013. The impossibly-high standard of quality proved impractical to keep up, without a book deal. But don't take my word for it: click RANDOM and judge for yourself! And feel free to offer your critique.
*based on poem rate for calendar years 2009-2012. Also, kidding about the book deal.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Sleep, now

forgetfulness steals, what
your memory brings back
and a dream disappears
into birdsong and black
take the mask from your eyes
into blindness, arise
you will sink soon enough
in a deeper demise

but 'til then, why not live?
with a shout! and a fierce
thrust of chin at the world
knowing nothing can pierce
what nobody can know,
so no one can cast doubt
live with chin forward-thrust, dear
and die with a shout

There can be no help

There can be no help
for a one such as us
who dispute what it is
just to love, or to trust
or to live, or to fling
seven wings to the wind
in a mad, desperate dash
broken limbs, broken skin
in a heap at the foot
of a precipice,
lies
the remains
of whatever -
we couldn't decide.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Sir Poesy & His Beloved Entourage, Upon The Occasion Of A Gay And Stately Traipse

Sir Poesy, Ms. Whimsy, Master Wit and Miss Whim
went a-walking a primrose path so prim
down the shadiest lane, lined with rosiest rose
Whimsy whispered to Wit -
and away he goes! ~
Poesy posed dainty queries
but Ms. Whimsy declined,
paid in ways so demure
Poesy's poser no mind
'til Miss Whim whispered in
Poesy's only good ear
and ~ his face flushed with color ~
he flustered, "oh, dear!"

THE MORAL OF WAR

WELL, IN THOSE YORE DAYS
OF TIMES PRE-OLDEN
SOME KNIGHT DREW HIS SWORD
AND HE CHALLENGED A GOLDEN
DRAGON WITH HEAVY, MASSIVE EYES
AND A TONGUE OF FIRE
THAT TOLD SMOKY LIES
TO A GAME OF WAR
WELL THEY CUT THE CARDS
AND THEY EACH DREW QUEENS
AND THE QUEENS, THEY CHARGED
AT THE HEAD OF THEIR COLUMNS
OF CARDS, FACE-DOWN
AND THE KNIGHT PULLED A KING
AND THE DRAGON, A CLOWN
WELL THE MORAL OF THE STORY
IS: WAR'S NO GAME
FOR THE WICKED OR STRONG
OR THE HALT OR THE LAME
IT'S THE SHUFFLE OF THE CARDS
THAT DETERMINES OUTCOME
AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO
BUT SEE WHAT'S ALREADY DONE.

Throw words my way

Throw words my way
straight, with a curve
to the pitch and roll
of their arc and yaw
they will stick stuck fast
in the target, at best
whether bullseye or wall
if you know how to throw at all
they will stick, stuck fast
with a point
make a hole
with a good solid thunk
as the word strikes
home
or as words clatter, off
struck the metal wire line
that divides black from white
they rebound back, fall
to the beer-sticky floor
so the thrower steps,
stoops, bent forward
and laughs
half gathering up
half fumbling
all those heavy, pointed words
watch your fingers!
ouch hurts
suck a punctured
(throb!)
thumb,
as you straighten up
dumb
-struck,
fumbling with math
as your eyes play upon
the enigmatic target board
the concentric-circle scores
as you count up where your words
scored another few points

it's a close game

who's winning?

My Highly Conscious Rhymes Flow On Beat & On Time

NOPE!
Was the part of my last thing
so what's the dilly-o
check out what my rhymes bring!
power to the people but the rhythm isn't equal!
This ain't no prequel!
Phantom menace me? You buggin'!
I'm medieval,
this, my rhyme is what I barter with!
I bring to marketplace
trade you for a dozen eggs
BAM! In the pan, for an omelette
with onion!
What you couldn't reckon with -
no you didn't reckon on!
No I ain't no serf, ain't no peon
I'm a monolith!
In the desert stood two vast and legless trunks of stone
with a sign that said: "Ice Cube's a Pimp!"
Pull out the pleasure!
Time to mix in the business
I take the streets and then they call me revolutionist!
I'm not a terrorist
check out what my rhyme flows
check out where my mind goes
your rhymes are just so-so!
You sucka m.c.'s tryin' to act subconscious
but listen to the words comin' out of your conscience!

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Pitch Me A Picture

A fine, fine thing it was and is
to see the winds come rustling
to hear the trees fall, forestly
where no-one's there to see me see
and in those ever-darkened glades
the elven-wings wing place to place
to see the blanch upon the brow
of Chamomile, the Wizard-Face!
as Umpteen Mompas rumbled up,
"To battle!" cried the Duke of Woe
as played by one Keanu Reeves
his agent told him it's a go
the action figure revenues
alone would justify the cost
of his inclusion in the cast
that's how it goes, alack, alas

Love Beats All

Love beats us all at its own game
we can't be in the same place
looking at each other
under each other's second skin
so close, our hearts have traded cages
leaving our ribs confused

you for me, me for us all,
the world versus both
so we flatter ourselves
so easy we die, so hard
come back to life
we pick out our paths with
our backs to the light
we live for reasons we understand
but can't explain
Love beats us all at its own game