High up on her arm
like a virtual display
Alice had a tattoo
that had something to say
It said, “Be sweet as a Daisy
Mild like a Buttercup
Learn to answer questions,
know when to shut up“.
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
high: https://fivedotoh.com/2022/11/23/fowc-with-fandango-high/
DISPLAY, DAISY, BUTTERCUP:https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2022/11/23/three-things-challenge-m156/
tattoo: https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2022/11/23/rdp-wednesday-tattoo/
With all intent and purposes I crack the curtains quick
I try to get a glimpse of who might loom and play a trick.
I grip the curtain with my hand, creeped out by a large stain
I wonder if it’s part of the man’s now exploded brain.
I hear a noise and whirl around, more of a clumsy spin
To see through light left by the moon and then I leaned right in.
I saw my Lord in my garden of colored tulip blooms
He is my favorite man of law, mixed in like smokey fumes
I backed right up and curled my fingers ’round the slack fabric
And tried to think of why I’m here, I’d figure something quick
My mind erased the memories of seeing him that day
But every night when I lay down, to him I like to pray
I pray that he comes back around to see me at my best
And go to sleep with joyous vibes inclined to take a rest.
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
I just couldn’t bear, with the look on her face, to tell her she had done something wrong
A notebook had fallen and what had taken its place was some beautiful art like a song
I hoped in my heart that she would never see the typical look of disdain I had had
I stood in the doorway with a smile on my face, hovering here made my heart feel so glad
Covered in paint, like the chalk on a board, the colors stood out fresh and bright
In the back of my mind I heard an old song dating back to a wonderful night
The night on the bus I met the man of my dreams who helped make this beautiful girl
The love overtook any anxiety made when all my feelings of love were unfurled.
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
At the end of the hall of the building I owned
Was a big open window and a playground disowned.
In spite of it all, I was stunned by the site
Of a newly grown willow leaning ‘way from the light
I sucked in a breath as I guarded my eyes
Fearing bites of an insect or the no-see-um flies
For a moment I thought it was a hallucination
Or maybe a high from my pot solution
I focused real hard and decided to go
Down the kind of tall stairway, I’d have to trust my ego
I let down my guard and descended the stairs
Like driving downhill where nobody cares
When I got to the tree I saw you and sighed
You said “Forgive yourself now” but I wanted to hide
Now I felt so embarrassed the tree’s lit by a lamp
And I laughed at my mistake till my cheeks were all damp.
“Don’t you patronize me now”, my wife said to me
After the alarm went off, I tried to leave her be
The damp air in the bedroom was enough to drown a cat
It’s the cloudy weather that made my bedroom get like that
I tried to be congenial despite the humid air
It’s like we’re in a rat race, she really didn’t care
So like a well-bred husband I went to the old couch
She didn’t like my taste in art, then said I was a slouch
Now that was two more insults than I could stand to bear
So I turned and with my finger…made a heart up in the air.
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
I ignored the nasty looks they gave
Some with speech all slurred as well
therapy given from a gracious host
included sketchy clientele
The clinic was aligned with folks
wallpaper smart and bright
the “culprit” of this entourage
was a pigeon of the night
Not really a living bird per se
but a nun in a black habit
had opened up this raunchy joint
as help, she does admit
But never did she think to see
the people on the street
nor know the ones that looked for her
had calloused dirty feet
The nun held out an appendage
I saw her gentle touch
go to a slightly fragile soul
it didn’t help him much
I turned to leave before I felt
so sad, this was no joke
‘Cause seeing all the poverty
sympathy it did invoke.
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
It was with a weary smile
That I finished up my job
I knew that I was early
I gave an untenable little sob
I opened up my car door
Revealing an awful mess inside
With a thumping in my brain
I took a breath so deep and wide
I shot a glance right over
Towards the moon glowing so bright
Then dropped my eyes and held my gaze
And shivered at the sight
There stood a big strong figure
With a snarl on its face
Its a pity I didn’t see the sign
That said it’s his parking space
In an elaborate way to exit
A kind of carving through the dirt
I didn’t care now of the damage
Earth flax my spinning tires spurt
I wanted to arrive in time
Not die right in my car
I know it’d sound like a big lie
‘Cause thats how stories are
So instead I’ll say I worked late
And had a flat or still
Say that I ran out of gas
Avoid the stares and grill.
©2022 CBialczak Compilation
Like a starburst sent from heaven
or maybe it was hell
He was a truculent insurgent
an old acquaintance, he’s as well.
He didn’t want the trouble
and was a cogent colleague yet
But a spooky set of morals
as bad a neighbor as you get.
He blacked out all his windows
and locked the doors while still inside
we couldn’t comprehend the sight
things intrusive he did hide
But screams came from the first floor
Moans floated from the attic vent
No one ever came back out
it’s just how his house went.
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
This is a warning that with my mood
this happy poem might not be that good
it makes me admire the professionals
and all the things, and all my calls
when being a teacher was what I was
now being an actor is all the buzz
’cause no one wants to hear me whine
so my thoughts and desires stay just mine.
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
Narcotic skies depict the culture of the world
Where a fondness for hatred encapsulate thought
An obtuse idea indicative of our leaders
Who think of nothing more than sinking lower than ought
I don’t want to be saved in a place like a cupboard
Closed and dark opened only once for a simple cup
The design of our world should be clean and open
Allowing us to live in peace, while the evil shut up
We are all different or that’s what they all say
like the tiles lining the wall of a bathroom stall
Scrubbed clean only when someone wants to do it
showing the shine that is hiding under it all.
Someday there will be life without hate or sadness
Brought on by others who have no care for the lame
Grief is free, given when we have loved ones who depart
In the end, don’t we know we all are the same
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
Stine Writing 