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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Names And Ghost

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“Only

times

and places,

only

names

and ghosts.”

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~ Aldous Huxley

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Elfje: Cinquaiin

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spook

lost soul

not a trace

to haunt my place

ghost

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Tanka: 5,7,5 7,7

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his story was sad

he needed a ghostwriter

read but never seen

to tell his tale or go mad

would it end up as fiction

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Poem:

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the old town clock rang in the hour
what was I doing up at three in the morning
a ghostly sound from atop of the tower
an omen, was it the specters fair warning

a mist blew in from across the bay
adding an echo to the eerie sound
moonlight made everything appear a whitewash grey
a distant foghorn was heard in the background

the smell of salt water hug in the air
the senses aroused made my hair stand on end
muscles tensed, awaiting a scare
at that moment I needed a friend

the alarm was loud, the fog slowly lifted
hate those dreams that are so totally vivid

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ME and the Boss

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..

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com/

https://meandtheboss.com/

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