An Ordinary Sunday

The ol' carpe diem's fresh outta giddyup;

the morning's few bright aspirations

have stalled and halted,

sullen by the greyside.

 

Sweet stilts have wilted.

Stubbed-out drag-ends of Joie de Vivre 100s

fust in the ashtray.

 

Nuke me up a mug of élan vital, wontcha?

Perk my jerky nerves

with a dram of instant vim.

 

Or chalice me a brute doozy

till my cup stunneth over

with astonishment's

primo vino!

 

Tease me from thought

with neat sweets, Keats.

Lark me, Percy B: spark my dark

with hail! and hark!

William Cullen Bryant,

loft me a lyric on the fringe.

 

Smack me with thankworthies,

windfalls bonking me on the noggin,

delicious red-graced gifts,

palpable and tart as birth-tears.

 

Win me back to winsomeness,

muse-mother, god-giver, chancy-dancer.

Alert me to the burgeonings and budges

of all that is new and striving and lively.





Poetry by Thomas D The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 43 times
Written on 2021-04-13 at 09:28

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Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
Members of Coo & Co admit that a couple of literary references are lost on us (unless Percy B. is Shelley?), but we enjoyed the exuberant mood and creative language of this piece.

Our highlight is 'neat sweets, Keats', bringing to mind the part of 'The Eve of St. Agnes' where Porphyro brings all sorts of treats out of the closet. Yummy! :>)
2021-04-14


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Thomas your creative use of language astounds me! Bravo! “Stubbed-out drag-ends of Joie de Vivre 100s” brilliant!
2021-04-13