Monthly Archives: July 2015

Twitter Poetry–Part 5

My goal was to collect all, or at least most, of the short poetry I’ve done on Twitter. I never quite caught up with it. Here I will resume the task, and in so doing, thank my muse, once again, the incomparable Susan Canary.

Susan

After a long exchange of wishes and dreams, I said:

Live in the light, my love,

And call me when you want

To live in the night!

and she said:

In the shadows I’ll welcome your strong embrace

Lips brushing a soft cheek

And leave you

With a smile when I return to the light.

And followed that with:

Would you break me

And leave me a shell

A ruin

Or just ruin me

For other men?

To which I answered:

If you have to ask,

Then you don’t understand.

If I can’t have you,

Why should any other man?

You are too strong to break,

You are too wise to fail,

You are too far to take,

A falcon, not a quail.

Her:

Not so wise

Nor nearly so strong

Pixels and distance

What I’ve had all along.

Me:

Sweet dreams are made of this,

Black canaries lying in bed,

Singing their songs, and spreading their wings,

Pretty birds with daring tongues.

Her:

The tongue not so daring

As it is eager to taste

For all five senses are

Engaged in one place.

(Unable to continue and overcome with longing, I fell silent and let several days pass. In the real world, I have a small convention I must attend, where I can play games, talk to friends, do typical nerdish, fannish things. Thinking of that I said:)

Tonight is the party before the Con

Time to get our shmoozing on

Playing poker with my friends,

Enjoying means instead of ends.

and she replied:

Won’t have a moment

To think of me

With all of that

Fun and frivolity

Hang w/your cronies

Until morning light

No time for women tonight!

But she gets no apology:

No time for women,

No women in sight.

Sometimes a man

Must do what’s right.

Back in the real world, I tried to let her know my ardor, though postponed, is undiminished.

For

Hot or cold . . .

It doesn’t matter.

I want your heart

On a silver platter.

Shocked out of rhyme she said:

I’m a bit concerned….

And I explained:

Sometimes a poem Is a metaphor,

For feelings that I can’t ignore.

But sometimes it’s A play on words,

For hungry trolls and pretty birds.

and she sent me some love:

*HUGS* I understand.

*************************************************************************

And that seems a good place to end this page.  I missed several days of poetry, and I’ll come back for it later on the next page, but this seemed like one section that was fairly coherent.

–end

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Twitter Poetry–Part 4

Today’s collection of poetry is built around a series of pictures I took during the day. The poems are still terrible, but at least you’ll have some photos to look at.  🙂

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Everyone likes pictures, right?

& so this is my plot:

To show the pix I took today,

And ask which ones are hot.

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Please favorite the ones you like,

And just ignore the rest,

So when an hour or two has passed,

I’ll know which one is best.

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& every pic will have its poem

I saw a tree not far from home.

I took a pic to illustrate

how stories neer do run straight.

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Imagine my surprise

Looking in Diana’s eyes.

She is a Woman Wonder.

That look could put me under

Her control.

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This is not the letter S.

It’s a Kryptonian glyph,

And you should only wear it when

You do a super riff.

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I went into a comics store

And found an iron man.

They put him in a corner

Where he sat upon his can.

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If I only had a dollar

For every super bank,

I’d have enough to buy one

And put my money in it.

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He tried to duck & doge & hide.

He said he wasn’t ready.

I tried & tried & tried & tried

To photograph Fast Eddie.

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I love those secondary books

Inspired by a story.

To have this in a bookstore,

Must be George Martin’s glory.

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Long ago I used to buy

And read each fantasy I’d spy.

But now there are so many books

That all they get is passing looks.

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I’m a troll & it’s a tun-

Nel. Being in one is such fun.

Water splashes everywhere

But none of it gets in my hair.

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To the carwash I must go

Every other month or so.

I look goofy. I don’t care. This would make a groovy lair.

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And now my rhymes are ended.

I hope I made you smile.

I think I will play Hearthstone

And leave this Twitter stuff alone.

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I like this page. It has more structure and coherence than the other Twitter poetry pages. If you like it too, please leave a poem in the comments.

–end

Twitter Poetry–Part Three

Continuing the totally unappreciated collation of Twitter poetry from Ken St. Andre and his muse, Susan Canary.

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Trolls and Monsters

Not all trolls are monsters.

Not all monsters are trolls.

Some like causing trouble.

Some just go for strolls.

*******

Little bridges are good for little trolls.