Modern medicine ovation

chills down my legs
itching and streams
of warmth
deceptively
spinning like
the beginning
of an orgasm
except it was not
fearfully irritated
drinking water
and hurrying to the store
buying cranberry juice
drinking - water
peeing ever so often
alas - another antibiotic
for the cure
and eventually
recovery is sweet

The Volva's venting

her winter boots helped Vigga the Volva
as she was treading through the tedious snow
it was now an old hat that winter
hammered heavily every two days piling up
gray and grayer the whiteness became
along the roads - melting came slowly
when the sun definitely decided
to appear again on the open skies
shortly to dismount and leave for
rain and rain and clairvoyant clouds
she mused to herself which lately
had become a solace - her own voice
she felt alone in the vast void
although it was her own doing
she had no true energy this time around
her cavalier of her summer in the north
of whom she had vivid sensual dreams
did not make her morning peregrination
any happier or easier, just heavier..
and the blasted simulated whiteness
bothered her - she was longing
for love in all the usual places
not her daughter's filial love
but a sexual deeply satisfying lust
spread in her body defying the cold air
surrounding her, prompting her to walk
to her favourite spot in the woods
where she leaned against
a tree, (was it Ygdrasil as usual?),
staring wildly, blindly around her -
even daring to fantasize of the eunuch...
she was in a frenzy - not sensing anything,
but her own body inside her heavy winter cape,
hotly she reached down inside her gown
- her deft fingers finding the flower -
with her free hand fondling the nipple
one after the other, feeling not the cold
only the summer heat of her own yielding
building up the movement of her fingers
on her Venus mount - rubbing - until
the ecstasy and well-deserved release

she walked on down to the stream
washing her hands and splashing ice-cold water
on her hot and feverish face - she bent down
and thanked the goddess for at least
being able to satisfy her needs -
as natural as all other bodily functions
even though she was alone in her woods

Happy Hubby or Lourdes revisited

Stood in the shower
when
hubby exclaimed,
Today is a miracle!
Huh?
All the socks
matched - none missing!
Truly
it seldom happens.
Were we in caves
of Lourdes
today
we were graced
by the hose goddess.
Unique union
of a happy hubby
and settled socks
outside the bath!

Positively spring

Oedipus resurrected
Electra and all the rest
of the Greeks - mythology
ancient wisdom buried
deep in the Jungian archetypes
hidden away so deep
that only in fairy tales
and legends told by mother
can anybody find solace
(except religious believers)
and understanding of
the fellow mortals
adding on the person's
own life experiences.
Eureka for us who live -
there is always something
new to brave or espy!

Q?

Q - a questionable quest
a letter in the alphabet
becomes a challenge -
query a quarry?
Quaver and tarry!
As I must - alas -
onwards to the goal,
a recipe for success
is to carry
on the weird quest;
the end may be
chaotically quixotic.
Challenges picks at
the curiosity -
could not conjecture
sublimely or awfully
that for the scribe
the letter q
begins a novel
poem in the qth -
an occult picaresque.

(crazy poem dedicated to Ian Flemming's
Q who tried to create many
crazy devices (especially in the
movies) for James Bond and whose
view that you have got to try anything
whether it works or it needs refinement)

S'not

My nose is producing
my eyes are filling
coughs not too much
I'm not very seducing
It's truly chilling
I guess I'm a nonesuch.

Sole haiku

reading a new book
joyride to old nether-worlds
balms sad, phantom soul

A lousy poem

Another doctor - another appointment
another test - another disappointment
another day in the cold weather
another hey - a bunch of tether
constraint of a special kind
yes, I do I do I do mind
that my health is not my wealth
that I have to trim my belt
so this is a poem full of anger
I rather think of my French boulanger
than slim without drinking Pyms
a fairy tale of the brothers Grimm
would be for me a kind of sublime
this poem is a poetess' war-crime
since it's awful and therefore should go
and melt and be forgotten like our snow!

Banning the f-word?

Self-control of freedom is difficult
because freedom needs to be free
derogatory words of any kind
tell only of the owner's mind
and his/hers opinions, an emcee
of learned behaviors - an adult
but we should really applaud
a child's mind of maraud
saying the emperor's clothes
were nothing - just exposed
that we all control the freedom
of speech - self-imposed atom bomb

Stressors and lessors

Why do some people stay calm
and why do others worry?
To some rap music is balm
others their tempers flurry!
Could I trade my jarring humor
for a phlegmatic dudette
or a sanguine cool boomer
instead of feeling cold sweat
run down my spine every time
whatever hits my sole note
bangs my front like creeping thyme
sends fragrant torpedo boats
upsetting my inner press?
Yes, I would prefer relief
of my mind's running and suppress
what stresses me out - massif
soothing - ethereal surf
surrounding my endorphins
making me play like a smurf
on an Amati violin
to be free of what makes me
tumble my headstrong notions
in my being's bourgeoisie:
rethink my makeup's potions
without lessors and stressors
and bothersome whatevers
I would be an oppressor
renouncing me forever.

Gone Nuclear

Tests of various and sundries
because of a nervous heart
I had to get up this morning
it was not a very good start
I slept not at all in the night
due to the snoring of my knight
and I couldn't take any meds
so wandered in and out of my bed
and rose - no coffee - banned
a drink which kicks me awake
today I had nothing - just juice
it was harder than - understand
the test in which I had to partake -
I survived - the nuclear produce.

Starbucks here we come

Walking among the snowplowed streets
steering straight to the local Starbucks
which is the only entertainment close
in sun-filled, sugarcoated suburbia
my daughter, our dog and I harbor
a beacon of hope that it is open
after the snow - after the storm
we plod along, we thread on ice
in puddles, on packed snow, dirtied
by civilization's ultimate machines
to get what we were hoping for
a scrumptious caffeinated drink
only to turn around and spread out
the lasting sensual kick of our day!

Melted

the sun is heating again
melting, melting, melting
we fade into our routines
tomorrow
forgetting
the camaraderie of our abodes
keeping us sheltered
touching on occasions
of those who do not have
that luxury
(if it can be called so)
of having that cover
over their heads
stewing the soups
of yesteryear
in kitchens
the hearth after all
is steeping in winter
because we have to
acknowledge the frozen
the cold, the ice
and steam up the bodies
with work of shoveling
(which is not that bad
when you do it carefully)
after which you dissolve
the marshmallows
(if you have any)
in your hot cocoa
just as were you a child
coming in from play
in the frozen snow
you melt

Enough!

Enough tarradiddle
stuff of second fiddle
slough - stop the riddle
tough blowing twiddles -
alas humans have to always bow
fast to nature's whims bestow'd
blast - accepting the bloody snow!

A youthful yen

Paris a place - a man - a dream
a town where the poet matured
ancient fable's prince
hallucinations of freedom and art
how often to think back
on that tiny speck of time
when youth and joy and sadness
blended together in a cocktail
the Iliad denotes descriptions
of its royal harbinger of sad fate
where two centuries at least of
artists drawn to its hearth
you abandon your soul fervently
without thought of tomorrow
whether it is your prince (ha!)
your kingdom or your illusions
cause what is Paris without
dreams, hopes of betterment,
or realms of creativity
it is just a name among others
nothing more - nothing less
a chimera like the gargoyles
found on Notre Dame de Paris

Flying geese haiku

flying geese in v
wintry omen of new spring
joyous ride to south

Neologisms gallore in snow

The way of the word
words hurt
words soothe
words laughs
words pray
words ironize your speech
words create
words obliviate
words beat
words intellectualize
words becomes neologisms
like snowmageddon,
snowzilla on a day
where we await another storm
humbly I bow
to the words of euphemisms
creating one new
snowtology - just for fun!

tautology - snowtology
snowstorms being a bore

After the storm - a reckoning

wintry wild beauty
sparkling sun filled icicles
away from my cold house
from a friend's warm hearth
a full belly of
waffles, ham and eggs,
plus cold mimosas
add cappuccinos;
hardships are not hard
to bear and then
gratitude towards
sometimes modernity
is overflowing,
but most of all this storm
just like anywhere else
shows that hope is there
for altruistic attitude;
it is all around on
a rawish rebellious
unbridled upbeat morn
after a whitish wild
storm of unprecedented
surprising force
acknowledging that
friendly - climatic elements
have a lot in common:
you should never ignore them
but celebrate whatever
they throw along
even though when you have
a disaster like Haiti
or tsunamis in Indonesia
there is always hope
for a streak of humanity
to shine just like
the sun beamed crystal
a gem of new day

Snow ode

From unwinding Olympians
amusing themselves tossing
white droplets of cool
unto our brownish brackish
bluish moody mother lode
of terrestrial dirt and earth
we expect an abundance
of congealed, glaciated vapors
to cover up once more
to create havoc and assault
our everyday life with force
to compel the humans to stop
and relax for just one moment
to enjoy their brood or themselves.
The high mighty immortals
minister their mischievous
randomized manipulations
upon the little miniatures
called Lilliputians by some
and creatures by others.
In the name of humanity
take a moment and enjoy
the snowstorm - hibernating
not unlike our furry forefathers
and our female ancestors
inside a tent outside which
the wintry gales were howling
like wild wolverines outside
in the dusk of white and dark
seeing only the gray white carpet
becoming, beckoning to go out
and in spite of the churlish chill
break free and frolic in frosty
tenebrous tempting snow
and spread an rime-angel
in honor of the world spirit
who created the different tempers
of climate and choice.

Waiting for snow

waiting for snowstorm
with droplets of winter show
beauty for children

A Tableau

This winter of white and snow
is not the tide I will know
whenever, wherever I will go
wines of d'Oc and Bordeaux
will add to my daily plateau
driving my little red Renault
living in our small "chateau".
This dream is not H.D. Thoreau's
but mine and my beloved beau's
who elected to follow "quid pro quo"
before I lie not a feet below
but over the sea you may throw
my ashes and my thoughts of woe
this morning outside the window
I think of times past and status quo.
Lucky in more ways than many although
I have had my moments of dumb show
so ere quitting this ground I'll sow
a thought of joy and laughter aglow:
Take each day like the last rondeau
smile - a smile - it's your own tableau!