“Foofaraw”

Poem 21 comes on the heels of an auspicious day. A lot of folks suffered from eclipse fever. Here is a small tribute to the great deal of fuss made about a heavenly matter. Thank you Haley H. for the inspiration. And to all you flat earthers out there, eat a bag of eclipse.

 

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“Orange Glow” – http://www.sercano.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Donald-Trump-observó-el-eclipse-solar-sin-gafas.jpg

 

“Foofaraw”

A solar foofaraw.

A celestial event.

Looked right in it’s maw,

and retinas are spent.

 

Tinfoil and pinholes,

promised safe views.

A collection of assholes,

on channel five news.

 

Looking up to the heavens,

instead of their palms.

Hapless expressions,

on science savants.

 

A great galvanizer,

this grand foofaraw.

Succinct synchronizer,

elliptical law.

 

When events in the sky,

pull you up from below.

Keep a well focused eye,

on the coronal glow.

 

These events are rare,

and define the space-time.

Perceived solar glare,

amplifies the sublime.

 

Look up, look up!

A newer reality.

Truly abrupt,

passed its totality.

 

A box of used glasses,

and plenty of tricks.

Another one passes,

goodbye eclipse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Friscalating Moonlight”

Similar to poem 19, poem 20 harkens back to my past. I offer deep appreciation to my greatest muse and partner, Lissette. We share love, laughs, tears, successes, failures, hopes, fears, and all that comes to us under a sun eclipsed by a moon. Wes Anderson’s character Eli Cash spoke the word that inspired this poem, and although it isn’t a real word, what this poem presupposes…maybe it is.

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Courtesy of Public Domain – https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/10/27/16/59/full-moon-1775765_960_720.jpg

“Friscalating Moonlight”_originally conceived on 6-21-05

The moon knows what to make of this,

for I know not.

It hovers in the heavens,

guiding confused couples through life.

A labyrinth of passions,

dead ends,

and darkened roads.

Illuminating possibilities, chances, and hopes.

Friscalating.

How it mocks me.

How it laughs at held notions of propriety.

 

“You mortal fool,

can’t you recognize perfection?”

 

Beams directing me to embrace her.

Searching for expression.

Tender silhouette,

stretching against the night.

Remove the hair from her eyes,

and stare into bliss.

 

One moment stolen in the moonlight,

preludes an eternity of satiety.

 

Thankfully, the moon cannot penetrate a roof.

For I know not what to think of other than her,

and in the safety of my hideaway,

the moon can’t mock me.

 

eli

 

“Unrequited Love”

19th poem on the 19th day pulls me backward in time. My life has been full of requited love for some time. There was once a past version of myself that didn’t believe that. A thank you to my friend Mary Ellen G. for reminding me of how we can always appreciate what we have, by sometimes remembering times when we didn’t possess the proper perspective. Please enjoy my take on this notion…

 

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“The Tender Trap” © C.P. Hickey 2017

 

“Unrequited Love”_originally conceived on 6-21-05

There is somewhere I have not been.

Unknown to me,

but certainly sought.

Endless concrete desire permeates my essence.

My limbs quake at the thought of your touch.

Awoken from one dream,

straight into another.

This cannot be real.

Real doesn’t feel like this.

Uncertainty, follows me closer than my shadow.

Thoughts restrained,

words unspoken,

actions withheld.

Just one time,

allow me to grasp your hand,

In fact, will me to.

Want me to trace our hopes and fears into your palm.

Might I kiss it,

and never be able to kiss a hand so lovely?

I should be committed,

for committing myself to the notion of a high road.

How would you love me?

Would you bend to me?

Would you allow me to drink fully from you?

Could I take a moment to sigh,

perhaps, forever,

and for that moment lose myself in you.

Don’t look at me like that.

You have killed me, and resurrected me with that gaze.

I cannot touch you.

As soon as  I do,

I’m gone.

Lost forever.

Lost, somewhere I have not been.

“Cattywumpus”

TGIF, 18th day of August, 18th poem to render. Been a long day today, so I am going to cheat again by harnessing the haiku form. Eva, thank you for the inspiration. I owe you a full-on tribute. I will revisit this term for a longer Ode at some point.  Somedays, you have to cut your losses and realize that you can do more with less.

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https://thumbs.dreamstime.com/z/three-row-257554.jpg

“Cattywumpus”

Situated, there.

All three of them in a row.

Diagonally.

 

 

 

“Valour”

17 is another fine prime number. I like the sound of that. That means I’ve edged safely over the month’s halfway mark. You might say I’ve eclipsed it. Valour was suggested by my friend Claire W.  It is a derivate form of valor. Courage, Bravery, the Noive synonymatically. You know, what the Cowardly Lion sought from the Wizard of Oz. Well, in this case it’s a tiger, and he doesnt’ seem cowardly at all.  Enjoy the tale of my experience of Valour (the Valonquar)…

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“Valour the Valonquar” © C.P. Hickey 2015

 

“Valour”

There you are little brother.

Inches of glass between you and us.

Your beauty is unmatched.

You pace the space.

The kids have never seen what a cat like you can do.

It is better that way.

I don’t know who is more protected.

You in that habitat?

Or me outside of the habitat?

Who shows more valor?

I propose you, Valour the Valonquar*

Your pacing grows more frenetic.

The kids gurgle with glee.

My anxiety thresholds.

Both of us, in our place.

I came here to see you.

You had no choice in the matter.

However, it seems,

That you are watching me.

Fixated on a curiosity.

Why so strange?

I don’t mean to be.

Can you smell me?

Your paws are gigantic.

One swipe is all it would take.

I humanize you.

I personify your essence.

It is the only way I feel safe.

Were we somewhere else,

I would be pacing frenetically.

Waiting while you watched.

Can you smell me?

Why so strange?

Neither of us belong here.

And we both belong here.

The kids tap the glass.

They have no idea, little brother.

No idea.

 

*valonqar-George R.R. Martin’s word, meaning “little brother” in one of the languages (High Valyrian) that he created for his Novel Series- A Song of Ice and Fire.