Our local newspaper had a silly Haiku contest a few year's back using the word "carbuncle." I can now say that I am published. This was my entry.


My father's brother
Loves pizza, cookies and bread.
He's my carbuncle.

OUR LADY OF FLOWERS

Have I, without knowledge, made a subtle pass at you, or have the
poses that are mine to strike then perhaps posed a threat to you?
Have I crossed the thin line now, that guards your un-enchanted barn,
was it my simple friendliness that stirred the peasants, causing this alarm?

Hänsel, call your soldiers back, this witch sticks to her gingerbread.
Girlfriends, wives or fiancées will save your sacred straightness from disgrace.

Such ugliness laid eyes on you in conversation, plain to see.
Your signals, clearly advertising, stressing the obvious to me!
Oh, bite your tongue, is it too much to ask for, can't you just for once, keep it in.
Oh, please don't say it … - spare me your painful arrogance!

Hänsel, call your soldiers back, this witch sticks to her gingerbread.
Girlfriends, wives or fiancées will save your sacred straightness from disgrace.

Say:
Have I, without knowledge, made a subtle pass at you, or have the
poses that are mine to strike then perhaps posed a threat to you?
Have I, out of saddest habit, stared for too long at one spot?
Or has my silence been mistaken for pondering on your private parts?

Hänsel, call your soldiers back, this witch sticks to her gingerbread.
Girlfriends, wives or fiancées will save your sacred straightness from disgrace

As through the pipes the waters fell down to the bottom of the well,
in listless apathy I gazed at the cold waters … - as he bathed.
I half behold that scenery and its most sensual masculinity.
Yet, disappointment, oh, can't you see, is still the cause and the cardinal symptom of my sick, sad reality.

Silver equals chill, but that suits me just fine. I'm shyly sipping
water … while he drinks whole jugs of wine. He likes all kind of women, and I … I only HATE … men.
He marvels at all things new to him … - and I only wait … for all things in this sick world … to end.

The water pouring down his spine, caressed his strong physique, oh, so well-defined, calm like a rock he stands, oh, behold his beautiful body and soul a friendly God must have built this man to an all well-balanced whole.
What sad bewilderment this brought, physical clearness, alas, still so much abhorred:
an ancient ghost awoke and fiercely arose in me:
it was that old, savage, yet half-forgotten ideal of perfect neutrality.

Silver equals chill, but that suits me just fine. I'm shyly sipping water…
while he drinks whole jugs of wine. He likes all kind of women, and I…
I only HATE… men.
He marvels at all things new to him… -
and I only wait… for all things in this sick world… to end.

I somewhat envy this naturally beautiful man, he never knew or encountered the hatred and shame that I bare.
The doubt, the cloak of disgust and the all-devouring dread, and if I told him about it,
he might only shake his head with kindly amused, melodious laughter,
he then would perhaps merely smile at my … oh, so stupid silliness …
and the BEAST that is raging inside.

Well this is such a sad affair
I´ve opened up my heart so many times
But now it´s closed
Oh my dear every salted tear
It wrings

Bitter - sweet applause
But when the show´s in full swing
Every once in a while
High stepping chorus lines
Mean I’m forgetting
Mein lullaby - liebchen
How rich in contrast
Love can be

Sometimes I’m quite amused
To see it twist and turn
To taste - both sweet and dry
These vintage years!
Lovers you consume, my friend
As others their wine

Nein - das ist nicht
Das ende der welt
Gestrandet an leben und kunst
Und das spiel geht weiter
Wie man weiss
Noch viele schönste...wiedersehn

And now, as you turn to leave
You try to force a smile -
As if to compensate -
Then you break down and cry

When I was a little child
We often walked the country-side
in brightest sunlight, or in rain
my mother took me by the hand
and as she had me in her tow
a frown then came upon her brow
she turned her head, looked down at me
and spoke these words of prophecy:

“Cold hands, frog nature
of the love no trace!
Haste cold hands, is frog nature,
no, of the darling' is no trace! “

“The frog flax, the frog flax
that is merrily a choir.
They have, them have
no head and no ear "

“The frog flax, the frog flax
that is a cold choir
They have, them have
no head and no ear "

Where the exit-door leads in
he scrutinises circling clockwise
counting two out of the three
slightly above the first degree

"Has there been blood?"

he asks politely as once a year we do explore
with my head resting on the pillow
gateways towards
Plutonian shores

Some are caused by downward pressure
so don't strain when opening bowels
the simple joys of maidenhood
the red-eyed fox is on the prowl

Rubber-bands for arteries
these Indian seeds do soak like flees
reduce the use of salts and lose some weight
walk half an hour every day

I openly dislike your vagueness
in handling hours we appoint
but when you choose
your pronouns rightly
I do silently rejoice

Some are caused by downward pressure
so don't strain when opening bowels
the simple joys of maidenhood
the red-eyed fox is on the prowl

So listen closely girls and boys
this song is about hemorrhoids
Not anyone's but mine of course
a secret part I now disclose

What is
is a game for scholars
So: it was sheer necessity
nothing but chance that
for reasons hidden to the world
has led the two soul here
Made them equal like dog and owner
annoyed but neutral spend the night
sharing the same bed they did slumber
beneath two blankets ...side by side

It makes no difference to explain
How it all came to this
'cause what if is a game for scholars
approve and seal it with a kiss!

Quickly erasing your lust, all we inspire is disgust.
But then, of course, you can never be sure.
and that's the ghost that's haunting you !!!

Familiar causes made me shiver
mainly with chill this foetus coiled
Apologies did only soothe his anger
but explanations could not avoid
him windown down the ancient form
the spell of insecurity
that liturgy which cruelly pointed out
the difference between him and me

I can't be bothered to explain
how it all comes to this
because all causes are "familiar"
accept, and seal it with a kiss

The larch, and not the morning-cock
beheld two spoons our cook had graced
and as our hero woke, he found
his left arm still around my waist
he rose, and I, the ugly child
born of the shadow sphere
allowed my th oughts to briefly travel
to a world ..... to far from here
where it's the cock that greets the morning
and piles have meanings unlike their faces here ... -

but what if is a game for scholars not, baby.
so try your best now to hide the tears

He said, as he walked to the bathroom:
"I am not at all like you !!!"

"Well I don't have the slightest idea
what you could possibly be referring to.
But rest assure, man, because whatever
this most dreadful thing might be
be sure that our difference is more than obvious
to the world outside ... and me!"

Quickly erasing your lust, all we inspire is disgust
But then, of course, you can never be sure
and that's the face that's frightening you !!!

I can't be bothered to explain, how it all came to this,
'cause what if is a game for scholars
and it's called:
HELVETIA SEXUALIS

Oh, I the wetly weak claw
led by his strong warm paw
walking the forbidden path
through high uncut summer grass
while hunters nose dive
membranes servants to their flight
were buzzing all around our heads
black parasol, balance and shades

Those little bells on my fool's cap
all witness to my sad defect
crowning my pale seriousness
in most ridiculous distress

The smile on his weather-tanned face
his white teeth somewhat out of place
the gentle roughness of his hands
dark soil staining his fingernails

Ushered into the forest's hold
I'm folding up my parasol
heralding fears of deprivation
in answer to my hesitation
he's parting the branches as we move
I dare a smile in shy excuse
Oh does he know the ghosts I drag
the dreadful ending I expect?
The boyish hand of this olden maid
hints secrets, guarded by her face

Does your world know my shadow's near,
the loop of time I always fear?
The fact that I carelessly stepped
into my very own, dark trap?
You stride, I'm glancing at your belt ... -
should I miss ay of the things I never felt?

The shaking hand of this olden maid
instead waters the flowers
on her ancient grave.

Wax the monkey, shave the bear
Jungle-creatures won't be fed in here
trim the hedges, cut the trees
then you'll know how affection feels

Shave the monkey, wax the bear
Such hairy creatures cannot stay in here
Trim the hedges, and trim the tree
who is there hiding in the shrubbery?!

Where there's a hole there is an ace
I will put a smile on your grumpy face

Beefcake vegetarian
We're oiled, refined, and slightly tan
If we're the heat wave
then you're the fan
and now we'll gladly carry out
the garbage-can

we're fifty something, well-aged wine
if you're wooden in your cask that's just fine.

I'll be your garland queen of Lace
the Sleeping Beauty in our maze
oh, fifty something well aged win
me, the wooden cask, that's fine

I know you like me to watch you piss
you're only waiting to be kissed
you're such a beauty to behold
here comes a shower and it's made of gold

I'm a flower, water me
let's build a castle by the sea!
You're like the sun-shine, morning breeze
the sun shines warm on your disease ... -
such pollen makes the black birds sneeze.

Who is there sitting on your back?
There is no need for a sneak attack!
If you're monastic to my bliss.
Then I will be faithful ... like syphilis.

Poor friar dreaming in his cell(s)
he knows the art of tonsure well.
and all the songs a blade can sing
sugh is the Easter that I bring"

The bells are chiming in (y)our vaults,
I am the goddess that unfolds
iconic beauty, as yet unseen
if you're only courting

the Virgin Queen

so:
Wax the monkey, shave the bear
jungle-creatures cannot come in here.
Trim the hedges
and cut the trees
then you'll know
how affection feels.

entle words, had been my weapons
careful openness and fragile honesty
had gradually begun to slowly win him over ... -
and somehow had lured him here.

Despite my obvious display of defect
my miserable frailty,
of which I never made a secret
I disarmed him with my sincerity
that never waned, despite the laughter
of public insult, ridicule
not even when confessing meant
turning myself into a wretched fool.

Some men are like chocolate
but most of them are like shit
and if you don't have the experience
to spot that tiny difference
you're likely to fall for all of it.

In secret, on those rare occasions
when no living soul was near,
no eyes, no ears, no other people
were around to see or hear
so there was no danger of some chance intruder
to doubt his manliness and strength ... -
then suddenly his words grew gentler. and his gestures slightly changed.
He did not seem to mind my presence at all
came even closer of his own accord,
yet still he veiled each subtle revelation
in rough-cut gowns of what we call
the "ACCIDENTAL TOUCH"

Some men can truly be like chocolate
but most of them are more like SHIT,
and if you don't have the experience
to spot that tiny difference
you're very likely to fall for all of it

Alas, some men are like chocolate
but most of them are like SHIT
and if you don't have the experience
to spot that subtle difference
you're likely to fall
for only the promise of a kiss.

Panda-ghost-face
oh, dear me I do still ponder on
the old "first question" I ever raised
was by mistake, a "singular" one.

Handsome and straight
I only detect the safety of denial
the "masculinear", slap in the face
there are some tears I shall never cry

Brothers in arms I tend to ignore
I am sadly waving a sigh
from the other shore
It is by far not an easy thing
to delight the barrent heart
of the Virgin Queen.

There is not a man walking this earth
that I would like to watch
I do not care about your pretty face
I never thought about your crotch!
I do not marvel at your body
be it athletic or fat
I do not long for your sick kiss
there is no room for you in my bed!

There's no magic-man wandering here,
who's wand I'd want to touch!
Well, I don't mind a handsome face
but none shall ever make me blush!
I never bowed before a statu(r)e
for I'm the Gorgon's work of art,
I am not dying to be kissed
there's no fire in my well-sedated heart

Sailors, soldiers, cops and rangers
and fire-fighters too ... -
some like a man in uniform, well, I confess ... I do.

It is, by far, not an easy thing
to delight the heart of the Virgin Queen

Oh, sailors, soldiers, cops, and rangers
fire-fighters too
some like a man in uniform
and our queen does too.
But she is married to the throne
the royal sceptre that she holds
she made the greatest sacrifice
for the poses she's destined to strike!

We're sailors, soldiers, cops and rangers,
fire-fighters too,
we're marching men in uniform
our queen is fair and true
Oh, she's so lonely on her throne
cold is the sceptre that she holds
She made the greatest sacrifice
for the poses that she's destined to strike

Brothers in arms I tend to ignore,
I am sadly waving a sigh from the other shore
It is by far not an easy thing
to delight the barren heart of the Virgin Queen

Brothers in arms she tends to ignore
she is sadly waving a sigh
from the other shore
it is by far not an easy thing
to delight the barren heard
of the Virgin Queen ...

Fog of Dissolution


Appearing sad and peaceful yet,
Fog shrouds this weary world today.
Beckoning now, it drifts along,
This silken mist of blue, and gray.

Elusive fog calmly whispers,
“Come now with me, you can be free.”
The silent fog then smothers all,
Still moving, floating eerily.

Now lured into this wicked trap,
Where all is dim, corrupt, and vile…
I want to run, but here I stay.
And fog displays a wicked smile.

cathy

Darkness Beckons

Darkness beckons, “Come near, and see,”
So draws one to his black abyss.
Where fear reigns in an unlit world
And death is but a welcome kiss.

Now hear, as lost hearts cry aloud
And crumble as they surely must.
Last life-breath slips away unseen,
Thus, all is gone but dark, black dust.

So, where is hope in darkness found?
Does he tremble and hide in fear,
Or escape to the light once more
And speak to those who might still hear?

This is one of mine...it got published a few months ago.

Tell me what you think.

London's Window. By Geneva Smith



"I found out today that there was no such thing as color" she said
A breezy type of calm-

A not so funny joke god has played on us all.



What happens when you find out your as unwell as the next?

Live-
Life.


So we do.
So we shall.

I will write the way I'd like.
I won't sell a thing anyway.


"What happens when you find out you like pain?" she whispered in my ear while twisted around me like a 300 year old tree.


I spoke, only to hear myself.
No one could be bothered.



Then she came.
She brought with her the information, a transformation of sorts.

Explaining in her baby voice that screaming is not always bad and we don't always hate who we think we do.



Taught crudely about how there is not love.
Just hunger.

Her perfume mixed well with sweat.
Her eye liner ran south.
Her smile was forged.


She said....."Just stop writing.....it’s foolish"

that hit a nerve, in a good way. beautiful poem geneva.

Grains.
By Geneva Smith

Like the sky at night

Dark on a beach, we sit.

We ponder questions.

Never resolution, only love.

Your hand reaches in me.

To depths unknown.

Soothing the child within.

The breeze, salty and warm.

This night was made for comfort.

Spill your light on me.

All is shown.

Autumn’s Symphony

Bright colors blend in beauty rare,
Performing Autumn’s Symphony.
Deep reds note so soft and mellow,
While trumpets gold ring out with glee.

The Conductor leads every one,
To orchestrate His plan for all.
Each color plays a part, unique,
Both, talent great, and talent small.

Autumn’s Bed-time Story

Goldenrod, in Autumn nod…
Consulting with the breeze.
Evening shadows come to dance
Sweet ballet amidst the trees.

Sunset casts a warm, rose glow
On horizon’s starlight climb.
Rows of sillouetted trees
Now sway side-to-side in time.

Bullfrogs call a slow, sad song,
Fireflies flicker secret code.
Crickets chirp a fevered pitch…
Autumn’s bed-time story told.

unclear maybe, i did not murder a child, lol. it is myself as a child.

Death by Her Small Hand

I’m so tired of desperate feelings…
This hourglass holds no more sand.
In failure, I surrender now,
Must I yet die by her small hand?

She only wanted safety then…
Why did I leave her all alone,
To suffer things I could not face?
There’s no more time, now, to atone.

I feel her hatred strong in me,
Still stalking with these thoughts of death.
Yes, I deserve this punishment,
And give her this, my final breath.