Remove Thy Blinders

And still they hide
behind partisan masks,
minus apertures.

Occupant in driver’s seat
tantrum spittle spews.
White-knuckled, weaves erratically
beyond civility, decency, decorum.
Down-shifts –
crash-dummy hurtling forth.

Redefines killing fields
beyond ecology to necrology.
In cages, beside borders,
ours and those across the seas.
Still they hide behind partisan blinders,
apertures seamed resolutely shut.

Let slip the masks this hallow’s eve.
Rein in with blistered palms
what thou hast unleashed.
Your children’s children shall ask,
innocent heads tilted up to you,
eyes wide open in disbelief,

How could you?

I beg you,
transpose the occupant’s childlike words below
as theirs to you this night:

“History will look upon you favorably if you get this done the right and humane way. It will look upon you forever as the devil if good things don’t happen. Don’t be a tough guy. Don’t be a fool! I will call you later.”

Aye, your children’s children shall call to you,
standing upon your grave.
How could you not let slip your mask,
apertures torn asunder?
How could you not act then,
call foul that which ruled the land,
thinking of them and theirs to come.

Written for dVerse’s Open Link night where I’m hosting tonight. This virtual pub for poets hosts prompts on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Open Link night means folks can post any poem of their choosing — no prompt, no specific form or length. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Quotation from Donald Trump’s letter to the President of Turkey, dated October 9, 2019: authenticity confirmed by White House.  Photo from Pixabay.com

Aberrant Musings

. . . I could buy the Sea of Tranquility.
Probably more lucrative than Greenland.
Panoramic views.
Exciting ride to get there.
If a cow jumped over it,
how hard could it be?
Me: The Man on the Moon.
King of the Green Cheese!

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Second posting for Quadrille Monday: poem of exactly 44 words sans title, that includes the word “tranquility.”  Illustration from Pixabay.com

Atalanta

Some days
I want to mail our politicians
spiked shoes.
The kind with cleats
like athletes wear.
To be sure-footed in muck
and muddied fields.

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Atalanta was a famous Greek huntress and an exceptional athlete. She was also a favourite of the goddess Artemis because of her survival instinct, impressive skills, courage and noble character. Image from Pixabay.com

Todays Create Tomorrows. . .

Words matter,
sly winks silence not.
Words hurled into sea of humanity
ripple inhumanity.
Build waves tumultuously
till tsunami destroys.

Words matter,
crowds riled to group-think.
Vitriolic spittled slogans,
us-them denigration.
Barbed words
create the wire.

This era,
tomorrow’s ancient script.
Our ever-living shame.

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De hosts Monday’s Quadrille at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today’s prompt word is “wink.” A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!  

With Apologies to the Farmer in the Dell

I rarely write the prompt first…but this time I must. Bjorn is hosting dVerse and we’re to use onomatopoeia in our poem – words that imitate sounds. Think “pluck” or “splatter.” He really wants us to concentrate on the SOUND of our poem. SO – in that spirit, don’t read my poem below. Sing it to the tune of The Farmer in the Dell – if you remember that from your childhood. Apologies in advance to those who don’t appreciate political satire/humor.

With Apologies to the Farmer in the Dell

The donald in the dell
The donald in the dell
hi-ho, the derry-o
the donald isn’t well.

Splitter, splatter, splat
Pluck it, plaudit, pratt
hi-ho, the derry-o
his lies are tit for tat.

Duplicitous as hell
His double-dealings smell
hi-ho, the derry-o
the donald isn’t well.

The donald gathers rats
The rats eat the cheese
hi-ho, the derry-o
the donald is a sleaze.

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WordssdroW

This world puzzles me.
DonalddlanoD?
Oh god! That dog?
Loves his mirror.
Stands with star rats
who emit time warts,
straw guns snug in raw war.
Pals slap pals, live evil lives.
It’s like quaking jello out there,
and we’re getting our stressed desserts.

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It’s a puzzler poem. There are words written as a mirror image and words, almost next to each other, that are a different word when spelled exactly backwards. Can you find them?  Hints/key given below.
Today’s Quadrille,  written for dVerse , must include the word “puzzle” or a form of the word. Mish is hosting and has us in a quandry!
HINTS / KEY: Mirror image of Donald is? Spell these words backwards: god, star, emit, warts, guns, raw, pals, live, and stressed.

Nursery Rhyme Primed

Tawny Donny wealthy and sly,
kissed the girls and made them cry.
When they told the world their tales
tawny Donny lost his veils.

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Day 15, Napowrimo : using Hansel and Gretel and Blackbeard the Pirate as examples, today’s prompt asks us to rewrite a villain’s unfortunate situation. Today, Georgie Porgie’s friend gets caught in a kettle of fish. ILLUSTRATION from Volume One, Poems of Eary Childhood, Child-Craft, published by The Quarrie Corporation, Chicago, in 1947.

 

Harlequin

Medieval court’s poetic jester
leaps cross marble floor,
bells on cap and toes.
Sings boldly eyeing men,
their indiscretions
bared aloud.

Sag-faced courtiers
murmur hoarsely, choking coarsely,
cannot silence tales.
Red-faced king sits in midst
as women waggle fingers,
his scepter turned to stone.

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Quadrille (44 words, sans title) written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today De asks us to include the word “murmur”. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time — come on over and quaff some poems! 

Infestation

Panders.
Off-loads guilt.
Loose lips abandon civility.
Instead spew
trite narcissistic patter.
Intimidates.
Cruel Machiavellian rule
steeps rot within.

Oh too similar to those
familiar with the

fruit fly who gloats over spoils
eviscerates solid cores
avariciously deteriorates the good,
reduces life to rot.

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An Acrostic Quadrille written for dVerse where Victoria asks us to write a quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words) using the word “fear.”  Acrostic: a poem in which the first letter of each line spells out a word or message. Note the first letter of each line from top to bottom in each stanza. You’ll find three words, including the prompt word for today. Apologies to those who do not care for poetry as commentary on the state of politics today. You might instead enjoy my second poem, also published today: Film Noir, Take 37