Sick Fernando: Compilation May 21, 2022

Once an exemplar man, a tempest to the core
Fernando was a techno fan, loved pyro even more!
Shutting down his internet, pallor in his eyes
Going out today, he thought, wasn’t very wise
But shop ahead he did, and scanned his products well
Involving the shop manager by ringing a small bell
Feeling so unwell, the man he took the hint
For in a sickly moment, to the toilet he did sprint.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Monkey Faces: Compilation 5/20/2022

Many, many years ago I had a house up north
the kids lived in a frowzy place, not knowing all its worth
The hubby was quite fractious, not towards family per se
but found the home distinctly packed with linens all astray
He sought a way to shock me into cleaning up my mess
To my surprise he shared the things he saw despite the stress
the pareidolia in the wood were monkeys pouncing round
His gasconade about his view I proved completely sound
For there among the dirt and dust and knots all in the pine,
were monkey faces all around, not reflections of any kind.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

This poem is based on a true story. First of all, the monkey faces: One night we had been sitting talking and Bob, my late husband, asked me in astonishment if I saw the monkey faces. I had no idea what he was talking about, thinking maybe he had imbibed in a few beverages. After trying to explain it and show me, I did see them! Monkey faces in the grain of the wood floor. Second, ever since I was younger, when I get super stressed out I clean. I would clean everything and then feel better sitting back looking at an organized, clean space. Once, Bob told me that sometimes he would try to get me mad so that I would clean! We laughed about it, actually.

Crow’s Rumor: Compilation May 19, 2022

Despite my abeyance and my reasons to decline
Crow started up a rumor, absurdity divine!
About a clever swan who lived down in the pond
Passing all the little fish to get back to the frond
Bodacious lady birdy would collect her tiny babes
and circle through the pond like hands on a round clock-face
Then snatch up little bits of the leaves she thought delish
and deliver them to lily pads she used as baby’s dish.
I stopped him with my query, he didn’t have a clue
Why a duck would pass up fish, lies no longer ensue.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Dinner with Friends: Compilation 5/17/22

Dinner with Friends

I was having a dinner
when a few of my friends,
the closest ones here,
when noise softly begins
I suddenly realized
that
the noise was from me
I was enthusiastic
As they all could see
I looked up at the trees
with the shape of a fan
pulchritude clearly
exciting sight for a man
The orangey sky
glowed a deep, murky hue
in my behavioral coma
I thought just what to do
I crossed the small yard
and leaned on the gate
a square metal lock
hanging from a small plate
I yanked at the lock
but it was fixed up real tight
so I bid them farewell
and said to all them, “goodnight”

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

The Jerk: Sunday Compilation 05/15/2022

He was active, unkind and sort of a jerk
unhappy in life, for nothing he’d done
Acting deftly a prig but really below
with a derelict attitude of everyone
He’d rip you to pieces and shout out in joy
while jotting long notes in his book
With a thunderous whoop and low greasy laugh
pouring out poison each time his hand shook
Bounding out of his house and way down the street
Grabbing things that were not of his own
Like a big nasty dog with brown gnarly teeth
being teased from a huge juicy bone.
When his life had become a big sloppy mess
He asked his friends what was the root
They came all undone and laughed right out loud
Giving their friend a quick and a hard boot.
He cried out in pain and tried to run fast
toward a pier from this maddening crowd
But he didn’t know that his past had come back
And they weren’t afraid to shout at him loud.
They said, “You’re a jerk! You’re not very nice
and we’re tired of all your bad crap.”
He looked at the group with awe in his eyes
Be he was smart to keep shut his big flap.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

You make yourself: Compilation 5/11/2022

Tauten your tie
put on your vest
No being furtive
just be your best
Creativity abounds
a human response
like bread needing yeast
never kneaded enough
The whole of your being
like dough in your hand
you sculpt yourself perfect
to be such a man.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Dessert – May 9, 2022 Compilation

Sitting on a high back stool, shifting all my weight
I’m waiting for my custard pie, I spin to face the plate
My chair is too low to reach the food, looks iffy anyway
I leave my seat and bite my lip, regretting my long day.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Barfly: Today’s Compilation May 8, 2022

Barfly

In the middle of trouble
Where nothing makes sense
A fool will be pious
But to his defense
The drunk at the bar
Is quite erratic you see
With dirt clod fingernails
Never silver money
The heat of the moment
When one should take flight
Sometimes refuses
and imbibes in a fight
The alchemy there
In the core of his brain
Is like a carnation
After icy cold rain
Physics should surmount
The bright gold lit light
Is really a senseless
Brainwave from the fight
A snack will help fix
The untimely glow
on the poor drunkard’s face
As it’s part of the show
A ticket to nowhere
Will be true, you see
Is where the barfly
Should put his money.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

My Life – A compilation May 6, 2022

As a pedestrian here, alone on my way
home to my condo on this glorious day
I think to myself in my tirade of thoughts
all of my nots and all of my oughts
My old house was cobalt, a bright brilliant blue
splashed with a strange yellow-orangey hue
I’d comment some more on the relics inside
Since I honestly have nothing to hide
But to bore you to death is not what I think
So I’d rather you sit and relax with a drink
I used to think I was the center of earth
Entitlement was the sum of all of my worth
My apartment was grand but empty as hell
The rest of my tale, I might as well tell
I had no love life, apart from my cat
An old catty man-child, or something like that
My cooking was sparse, take out boxes abound
That sat on my table, since no one’s around
The laundry was dirty, except for the socks
No one wants dirty feet, or feet cut on the rocks
Of the path that leads here and to other homesteads
I could continue my tale, but will go home now instead.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Too Shy: Today’s compilation 5/4/22

A reminder to those who are too shy to ask
that bliss only comes when aspersions are gone
from a too humble mind that a certain one knows
and a banshee who’s out on the lawn.
Meek is not bad when a maiden is seen
pouring milk from a bucket’s small spout
Keep up the good work and encourage your mind
Quietness honors the Peace felt about.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry