Trop Moche

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“Mon Dieu,

la vie

est par trop

moche.”

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― Aldous Huxley

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my friend, the life is so ugly

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Elfje: Cinquain

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unsightly

really grotesque

just physically repulsive

an appearance beyond horrendous

ugly

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Lune: 3,5,3 syllables (Reversed)

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windy day

tall trees bow their heads

birds fly low

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Poem:

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the imagination is stuck in the routine
the mind is fixated on the black jelly bean
it is and/or is it a bad habit to be lazy
especially for those who are certified crazy

from here the poem took over the writing
just another God incident sighting
the tenor enjoined happy, joyous and free
another beautiful day for everyone to see

gratitude for breathing some fresh air
finding it unnecessary to compare
simply happy to be me and alive
thank God He allowed me to survive

remembering that there is a message to carry
for the sick and suffering the purpose is primary
crazy and lazy can be replaced with good habits
easier than trying to learn the new mathematics

doing the will of a loving Higher Power
securing a room in His ivory tower
the poem said that it was time to finish
I knew when it started to talk in Yiddish

time for the imagination to go back to sleep
the left over words go back into the heap
if I take time to listen the writer will be back
no need to rely on the zodiac

time for the writer and I to rest
next time, as usual, we will try our best.

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ME and the Boss

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https://meandtheboss.com/

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com/

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No Other Rule

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“Write

what you like;

there is no

other rule.”

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~ O. Henry

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Elfje:         (Cinquain)    classic: each word only one syllable

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joy

some fun

a big thrill

glad to be nice

glee

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Lune:    5 / 3 / 5

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beautiful sky

sun and mist

rainbows everywhere

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Poem:

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looking, lost, trying to find fantasyland
this ugly, smelly reality I cannot stand
transport me to a faraway zone
let me hide by using a clone

let’s create a new space and call it Love
built with the blessings received from above
air and noise pollution may not exist
the sky above always rainbow kissed

soft melodies provided by the birds and the bees
herbal aromas wafting about on a fresh breeze
every trail and path lined with a display floral
the horizon represented by a bucolic mural

a sirens scream, a grieving mothers wail
back to earth, dreams wasted to no avail
a bang and a thud, everything used and abused
only the crazy from this world are excused

to cope, one must adjust the altitude
work hard at keeping a good attitude
let reality suck, if it must
let go, relax, in God you must trust

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ME and the Boss

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https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

.

https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

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