I was in a hurry, in a mad rush The morning was crazy, yes one of those The alarm had belted shrilly out But I was dead to the world, comatose
Dreaming of wishes being horses and Bookers Until the clock struck ten and then I threw off the duvet, leaped out of bed Limbs all awry like a headless chicken
Here’s a little aside: when I’m stressed My hair also declares a mutiny Acts up like it’s the raging heroine Of its very own show on prime time telly
And so it was in this agitation That I knocked my elbow on the door I cursed like a sailor who’s had too much ale-er Deliriously, frenziedly I swore
I vented as much as a random string Of choice expletives can enable The rest of the rage I swallowed away As virtuously as I was able
Then the ultimate decimation came to pass I stubbed my wretched left little toe What chanced to happen in the heat of my passion You really wouldn’t want to know
Suffice it to say that on that day The angels filling in my Wicked Gal page With brimstone, hellfire, the sinfulness of ire Had a field day, ‘twas their advantage
And so ‘twixt my shoulders and my feet now A funny bone doesn’t exist at all I try to be sweet-talking, kind and good Until the next time I slam, stub or fall.
This is my Alice in Wonderland type of journey through my bowl of salad. Some trials (including of the dietary variety) are best undertaken up close and personal! Also thrown in some existential angst for good measure. The title of the piece is a play on the phrase “Caught red-handed”.
I pick my way through little bits Of bright green, the shade Of fresh cut grass I then pass A scarlet flower the size of my head It sits on the ground like it’s dead Or perhaps waiting Anticipating Food? Me? Like the Venus flytrap? I shudder and go on It agitates me that I’m alone
I look up There propped On a frilly green tree I see A brown green dome Velvety on the outside Is it a temple? A den? A ploy to lull the senses Full of pretenses Of warmth and safety Waiting slyly for unsuspecting prey? I shiver and go on
I’m borne on fogs Of peppery wet air I stop and stare At uneven bricks of black and white Stacked haphazardly Here and there Are these stairs to heaven? alien art? remains of ritual sacrifice? I can’t tell … but oh the smell! As I step through a hole Soft and pliable, the pong Makes my eyes water I falter for a bit It it a giant fungus? A virus? A disease? I step through gingerly —
“Good afternoon ma’am. How’s the salad” I’m startled, awakened from my reverie I look down at my bowl Where I had been traipsing Thumb-nail small In a fearsome fantasy That my despairing mind had woven In garden salad tapestry
Lettuce, tomatoes, olives and cheese Untouched, unloved, salt-pepper doused Waiting for a forkful raised to my mouth Sit patronisingly, self righteously In the bowl, staring back at me.
* ICARUS: One of the most famous tragic figures in Greek mythology, his story highlights the dangers of excessive pride/ fixation. Although he was warned by his father not to fly too high, Icarus became overexcited and flew too close to the sun, causing his wings (made by his father,from feathers and wax) to melt and leading to his untimely death. This is a bit of satire on the old Greeks of mythology.
There was once a young woman She had this special thing One can’t call it love you see The Sun was her heart’s king
She’d look up at the sky all day In spring and then in summer Winter woes came down in throes Not seeing him was a bummer
But she’d then glue her sun-sick eyes Upon the tele-vusion Watching classics and Sci-Fi Of beaches and nuclear fusion
(Fission, I admit, is a grander term But it’s a small explosion Through staid old Fusion doth the sun Make Helium from Hydrogen)
One day on her 60th birthday She’d had it with long distance She put her crafty hands to work She wasn’t losing one more instant
She made herself some silver wings With aluminium and nylon string And then up to the roof she went To flap, flap up to her king
It was probably mind over matter that Got her five feet above the roof The Sun finally said “Icarus in your 35th Incarnation, you’re still a goof”.
I looked at her over my coffee mug Stealing silent glances Looking her way Then looking away My heart had set up a regular cacophony As I stared at her secretly From above the rim of my cup That I brought to my lips to sip, The adrenaline instead making me chug She sat there, serene and beautiful An ode to perfection itself Between the gulps I watched and drooled Oh lord! I felt like such a fool! I took in a ragged breath I had to calm myself I had to let the feeling pass To wring it, wash it from my heart I had to fight, wrest my hungry eyes Off that whetter of fantasies, that queen of delight That mesmerizing, will-defying Passion Fruit Tart
I thought I’d write a poem today For a change, a cheerful one It seems like my prolific poetry Is making me the Queen of Glum
It’s not that I don’t see the beauty The hope and joy that abound In big and small spaces In young and old faces Oh i see it all around!
But I also see life’s glimmer Fade away, get slowly dimmer In close and distant places In fresh and weathered faces And my own feelings grow grimmer
The angst nudges the bard in me Unlike any rush of triumph or glee The words spill out agonised, enraged In wounded quatrains upon the page (And I have to say!) I feel lighter for the venting spree
So I thought I’d write a poem to tell Whether in fact I am capable Of verse that won’t assault your tear ducts Or indeed get your adrenaline up (What can I say!) These are the quirks of waxing lyrical
I woke up today, I’d had ten hours of sleep A mixture of guilt and satisfaction rolled around In my frontal lobe. Yesterday had been Another tsunami of sights and sounds So much activity, so much to process My neurons had scrambled like spooked racehorses With a glass of water, I sat still until I reached in my bag for my bottle of Advil
I finally went to bed, it was 3 am I had to switch off, I had to get to sleep I had to be a part of the human condition I closed my eyes and began counting sheep I lay in the wakeful throes of identifying The multicoloured sheep that went flying Across a rainbow stile that was ten feet high … Who was I kidding! Wide awake I opened one bright eye
Now when daylight stabs my eyelids with its beams A cosmic alarm clock to wake up to and be spry Even as it prods me in the haziness of my dreams I snooze it three-score times, as I waken by and by The Advil and the sheep remain my special twins One bleats its lullabies, the other stills the din So I go from day to day and from night to night Sometimes it’s tumultuous, at others it’s alright
A fond and fun tribute to all those who live in close quarters with Money Deols. May the universe keep sending you little kindnesses to make up for the relentlessness of your days 😄
I had this absolutely delicious dream Of floating amid pocketbooks laced with cream Dollar bills and five thousand notes Were sending their special bouquet up my nose
Morning came and I had to resign Those exquisite dreams to the tides of time But ever the optimist that I am I know I’ll dream of riches again
Today after breakfast I meditated On my bank balance in the United State-es My heart skipped a beat, I had to be cautious But oohhh! All that dough! So Expialidocious!
For lunch I had a sandwich and a coke My mind wandered into another nook Yes it was lined up and down with money bags I was so overcome I almost gagged
Tea was a peaceful affair as the day waned As I dipped in a biscuit my thoughts roamed again My prime real estate and other things like it Made each sip sweeter, each bite iconic
By dinner time the perfection of my day Was marred only by the distance that lay Between all my riches and my two hands That lovely bond only wealth connoisseurs understand
My prayers were modest as they always are: God please don’t ever take me far From my beloved’s legally tender embrace I bow to you, I request your benevolent grace
I then lay me down for another night Of gilded dreams and green backed sights I slowly drift off on precious wings Made of savings certificates and treasury bills