featured in the poetry forum May 17, 2019  :: 0 comments

Paper clips are not made of plain paper,
Hairpins not thin and woven spun fine as hair;
Lampshades themselves no light sport, but glow taper,
Horseshoe brings luck but doesn’t run like mare.
Bookends in the end yield no twist or surprise,
No happy unions, not a single mystery solved,
No tragic conclusion, no novel surmise,
No character doomed, none whatsoever absolved.
Association here is but a link, quite weak in range
That one to the other connects in manner most obtuse.
In no way is there an osmosis, interchange,
At best one serves, one is of some vague use.
Rely not then upon kinsfolk kindness, on merit strive,
Till at your destination alone you arrive.

editors note:

No links, me thinks; therefore I… – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum September 20, 2018  :: 0 comments

When there is direct active verbal sparring
And people at each other senselessly sharp lash,
Or when head to foot in the thick of it downright jarring
Discordant voices like arrows at war point clash;
And when with frail unsteady rule of tide’s thumb
Unwarned the scales of fortunes startling dip,
There’s always some bright remedy quite close at hand
For that one restless wavering coin to flip.
For who are we to yell and shower blame,
Firm ostracise those left out in the cold,
Who living on shoestring from some strange shores here came,
And slam the door on faces lined with problems old.
May kindness-courtesy be at your threshold,
A smile heralds a seachange in the life you stark behold.

editors note: Heads or tails; winners and losers? Why not combine to see what two can do together? – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum January 12, 2018  :: 0 comments

As veils all slowly lift,
Clouds in slickest swirls shift,
Slide, evenly horizons clear,
Lights flicker, plain and purl,
The shades of biscuity gold wicker.

Thin spikes, each kneading a sunbeam,
Soon gloriously wade the wind, themselves all calm.
In spite of the uproar, like in print an entire ream,
They land pointedly as a psalm.
They land neatly, solidly in my palm.

editors note:

Sometimes, when we catch’em, they look like this; makes us try to catch another. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum July 16, 2017  :: 0 comments

On plates that ring in plenty comes each overture
Like foundling season ready to lavish expand ,
The top patch on which we stand, the beautiful curvature,
Gives but a glimpse of expanse all round, the whole land.
What beauty there is in sheer great doses
Iced, spun like constellations at night at its core,
Our planet’s many mysteries that fathoming proposes
The world idyll we see, the country on its open door.
Like orchestras overwhelm us, all opulence offered,
A banquet’s delectables in huge quantities,
A heady night’s music, all nuances proffered,
In its all-revealing stamp of exalted sanctities.
A colony of gannets in full swing impressive flight
Look as though they’ve temporarily forgotten their breeding sites.

editors note:

Enough to make us forget our nesting site, too. Fair land. (We welcome Saloni to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 28, 2016  :: 0 comments

Equality’s rare
In most regimes, most regiments, work or pleasure,
Where hierarchy comes into play
But in what counts, in combat fair
Giving measure then for measure
They levelly beat the lights out of day.

Sophistication, elegance reigns
In the upper class like sugar crunch caviar munch
Till it’s time for one upmanship
Ah then who cares
It’s punch for punch
All whole swing, free for all, all unzipped.

Exchange of ideas
On the other hand as it ought
Like conversation cool
Is meted out gentlemanlike to peers
Thought for thought
Where we play by the rules.

Businessmen and marketeers
Exploit imagination’s stream.
Silver or gold plated
There they go selling dear
Dream for dream
To all (and sundry) unmitigated.

editors note:

Bottom line growth is nothing funny. Imagination – equality, sophistication, ideas – are great if they make money. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum February 25, 2016  :: 0 comments

Like words fixed in time on empty page,
Some images tucked away that only we see,
The mind that writes sees all at every stage
And streamlines all till taken is all space free.

A blank sheet, like a pretty face, beckons
Intelligence to give it life, calls for pen’s gold
And the writer a tale to tell that reckons
It’s time for beauty hid to be extolled.

Keeping old fleeting dreams tidily at bay
To get on with the act, there’s a purpose implied;
There’s scarcely any point procrastinating day
When the sun’s overpowering as perfume or high tide.

At such times one wonders, is endeavouring the essence,
When poetry spontaneous has so liquid an omnipresence.

editors note:

We are soaked in our grasping; trying to swim or, at least, tread water. – mh clay