Today’s Grief

Posted on November 27, 2013 by alicebarrett

there’ll be no crying tonight

the cat’s purring in his sleep

dog’s running in his dream

you murmur as you

roll against me

the cold rain on the roof

sounds far away

I’ll hold today’s grief

safe until tomorrow

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Skeleton Verse not

Posted on November 26, 2013 by alicebarrett

Skeleton Verse

Dancing_Skeletons_clip_art_medium

skeleton bones

rattle as they roam

’til they come back home.

the last time I saw one

he. she, or it shone in the sun

he, she, or it was having fun,

until he, she, or it shouted a curse!

it was so much worse…

it’s supposed to be skeltonic verse.

you dummy old bones,

stop all your groans,

go back to your graves in that thick thick thicket

’til you find a poet who isn’t dyslexic.

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Death Backed Away

Posted on November 24, 2013 by alicebarrett

Death came near.

Death backed away.

…

She never leaves without a fare-well gift:

Scars, fears, memories,

A limp, a pain, a tremor.

…

She never leaves entirely,

Like a dimness that never blackens:

Whispers, shadows, shades.

…

She never leaves forever:

Remember, remember, remember,

She chants in my ear,

softly when the room is quiet.

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I’d like

Posted on November 22, 2013 by alicebarrett

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I’d like a wind-up watch, they don’t need instructions.

I’d like a key that isn’t a card, my Visa won’t open a door.

I’d like a tan that comes from the sun, the liquid turns me orange.

I’d like a girl who is a girl, or a boy who is a boy,

I’d like a girl who is a boy, or a boy who is a girl.

images

I’d like a tomato that’s red and round and dribbles down my chin.

I’d like some clothes that are cotton, they’re all but forgotten.

I’d like a glass that’s made of glass, a cup that’s made of china.

I’d like a brain that remembers things.

I’d like a marriage that lasts and lasts,

And jokes that are really funny.

I’d like a me who’s just like me.

images-1

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Gratitude in Three Stages of Life

Posted on November 20, 2013 by alicebarrett

Are you sure your friend knows that you like her?

She helped you cheat on the history test,

She distracted your mother as you went through her purse.

Of all birthday gifts, hers was always the best.

So take time, kids, once in a while

to say, “Thanks for everything,” and give her a smile.

…

Are you sure that your friend knows that you like her?

She always handed the joint first to you,

Bailed you out after your arrest.

Forgave you each and every curse.

So take time, teens, once in a while

to say, “Thanks for everything,” and give her a smile.

…

Are you sure your spouse knows that you like her?

Whenever, wherever, she wears the best clothes.

She tells you when there’s a hair in your nose.

Wainscoting the ceiling, removing birds from the venting.

She does all the tasks that are not too exciting.

So I’m taking the time now just to say,

“Thanks for everything. Hang around today,

“I’ve fixed up the bedroom so we can play.”

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Conspiracy Conspiracy

Posted on November 19, 2013 by alicebarrett

I now know the truth,

I figured it out.

There’s a New Wold Order, LBJ killed JFK,

Paul is Dead and Jews conspire to rule.

The army shot a plane down over Long Island Sound.

The CIA caused 9/11,

aliens are massacred at Area 51.

There was no Holocaust and the moon landing was faked.

Freemasons and Illuminati joined forces to crush Opus Dei,

The Vatican won’t tell you Jesus married Mary.

…

As if that’s not enough,

Our neighbor has a camera aimed at our door,

and a tiny drone hovers over the roof.

Letters from the IRS are really from the CIA.

ObamaCare wants to kill Grandma and

Social Security is a Communist plot.

…

As if that’s not enough,

Commercials make me buy things,

Billions are spent on this plot.

Fox News tells me it’s news.

Stores say spending more is saving more,

Some brainwashing is involved here.

Pluto is not a planet.

I cannot be happy without a Playstation,

though I’m not sure what it is.

…

Conspiracies make me paranoid,

They stuff our minds with stuff,

I’m paralyzed with fear.

They  suck my poor brain dry.

Which brings us back to the beginning:

I now know the truth,

I figured it out.

Conspiracy upon conspiracy is the greatest conspiracy of all.

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Poetry for Children

Posted on November 18, 2013 by alicebarrett

I sat down to read some poems for children.

I’m shocked how the poets kill ’em:

Falling out of their cradles, eating too much string,

For laughing as a hearse goes by,

Burned alive for telling a lie,

Don’t forget those poor baby oysters going for an outing!

There’s only one conclusion

About poets who write for children,

And that is: They hate ’em.

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Surfeit of Nonsense

Posted on November 12, 2013 by alicebarrett

This morning I woke up with the word “surfeit” in my mind. No idea why. I couldn’t remember whether it meant too many or not enough. So I had fun with a thesaurus.

This is a participatory poem. Add your favorite brand new wine name.

Surfeit of Nonsense

A surfeit of heat in California resulted in a dearth of grapes

Followed by a scarcity of wine.

An overproduction of cheap wine in previous years

Gave very cheap wine an advantage, and was no longer cheap.

And there appeared a plethora of brand new wines:

American Apple Soda Wine,

Cumming’s Carrot Wine,

Grandma’s Grass Wine (for medicinal purposes only),

Smith’s Line of Patriotic Wine:

Red Current, White Tulip, and Blueberry Wines,

Florida Hanging Chad Recount Sipping Wine,

Quaker John’s Non-Alcoholic Straw Wine,

Dumpster Dive Dinner Wine,

Blood Drive Red Wine,

Pooh Bear Honey Buzz Wine,

Cayenne Catnip FerMinted Wine.

Americans love a surplusage of just about anything.

So the superfluity of wine choices faired well.

Americans suffer perhaps from an excess of creativity

And appalling scarcity of taste.

(Feel free to add your favorite wine names below.)

 

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Non-poets are clueless

Posted on November 9, 2013 by alicebarrett
 
 
“A book is not a thing of one sitting, like a poem…..”
Patricia Highsmith: Brilliant, but clearly never wrote a poem
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Ghost

Posted on November 8, 2013 by alicebarrett

Ghost

My grandmother wore a white sheet on Halloween.

Black oxford stout-heeled shoes poked out from under the hem.

She walked with her familiar rock to side to side.

Her pale blue eyes glinted through the eye holes.

She was not carrying sweet candy;

She carried a loaf of bread.

The aroma of weak milky tea surrounded her.

When I ran to clasp her in my arms,

She was gone.

So I went home,

Waited,

And every child, “Trick or Treat!”, got a slice of rye toast

And a hot cup of tea.

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