SPAM POETRY #2

To check out my previous installment of spam poetry click HERE.

Every line of spam poems are a complete and separate subject line from spam e-mails I have received and deleted. Enjoy.

If you would like to submit your own spam poetry to be posted on the BFZ send them to me at barefootkangaroo@aol.com

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DIAGNOSIS HOT

What's hot in Idyllwild?
I'm in Idyllwild
Do you think I'm hot?
Are you in Idyllwild?
You're so hot
You should see a doctor
Diagnosis isn't good
Too hot!

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IN THE MORNING

In the morning
When the grass is wet with dew
In the morning
I'll walk the fields with you
In the morning
When birdsong fills the air
In the morning
I'll tell you if I dare.

OLD TREE

Before the farmers and lumberjacks
Came out this way with saw and ax
To harvest the woods and clear their tracts
     The old tree was there.

It is dying now beside the way
When will it fall? I cannot say,
But it'll fall, for sure, some day.
Perhaps it'll fall by weight of snow
Or maybe the wind'll lay it low
More likely an ax'll deal the blow
     For it is dying now.

END OF THE DAY

The sun is dropping down to bed
The gentle lake reflecting red
Swallows darting in and out, in and out
While campfire smells waft about.

COME AWAY WITH ME

Come away with Me
Into that place

Into the hush
Of an empty hall to
Walk barefoot circles
Round and round
Among the empty chairs
And where your voice,
Can harmonize with Mine
To set the rafters humming
or
On a midnight walk
Through a quiet town
Where the melody
Of your heart joins the
Rhythm of your feet
And My voice comes and goes
Like passing headlights
Along the darkened streets

Come away with Me
Into that place

I will meet you there

When I was eleven I found a spring
In the woods below the house.
It was ringed all around by mossy boulders,
And shaded by a grove of pines.
If you looked down into its clear, cold water
You could see little pebbles eddy and swirl
As the water found egress from cracks underneath.
The grove of pines as well as a neighboring field
Must have been part of a farm at one time
For a number of deeply rutted paths had been worn
By cows into the ground under the trees.
It was just such a path which first led me to the spring.
I remember how the wind would pick up
And the pines would sway ominously,
Groaning and rattling in the whistling wind.
I imagined I could feel their roots straining
Against the ground beneath my shoes
As they swayed back and forth,
And if you looked down into the water,
As clear as air and cold as March,
The little pebbles swirled and danced.

GOOD NIGHT

Let sleep come on like a gentle flood,
Let it wash the day away.
Untether the mind and let it drift
With the dark, heavy current.
Let yourself be swept away
In the cleansing flood of sleep.

Let it carry you out,
Way, way out,
Caught up and born along,
In its irresistable pull,
Far from the shores of concern
To where it's deep and silent.

The pitch of the roof is not so steep
Yet steep enough I dare not sleep

For though it would be nice to drowse
Way up here atop the house
With a sinking sun in the west
And my body finally at rest
On shingles warm from midday sun
Though the cool of night has begun

The pitch of the roof is far to steep
For me to even think of sleep.

A SONG WITH NO TUNE YET

Spring is waxing
Winter's waning
No more snow
But now it's raining

Summer's waxing
Spring is waning
Toward the sun
The crops are straining

Fall is waxing
Summer's waning
Nights turn cold
The leaves are changing

Winter's waxing
Fall is waning
Until the spring
Jack Frost is reigning

She spoke words into me
Like a spark into tinder,
And watched with joy
As the wild thing spread.

I want to wake up in a house that is my own- a stand-alone house with more window than wall.

I want to pad barefoot across its floors, which are more floor than furniture.

I want to stand with a cup of tea, and scratch my chest, before one of its many windows.

I want to stare out on a new day, full of golden promise, and watch as the rising sun paints the earth anew.

YOU CAN QUOTE ME

"Shame and pride are twins,
And mother selfish grins
To see her boys at play
Inside my heart today." JBT

I often think it's odd
When I consider the mighty bear
That such a creature as I
Could give such as it a scare

REFRAIN TO A SONG AS YET UNWRITTEN

I would like some tadpole stew
No other stew will do
I'll cook it up and serve it hot
On a table set for two

The squish and suck
Of mud and muck
Sound beneath my feet
While the plips and plops
Of fat raindrops
Drum a steady beat.

If all the creatures in all the seas
Jumped all at once in perfect sync,
And for a moment they just hung there
In the air above the drink,
I wonder in that moment
How much would the ocean sink?
And would the ocean sink?
Hmmm... I wonder, do you think?

This part of the forest is thick
It hems in closely all around
Branches mingle in the sky
Roots interweave underground
The forest edge absorbs the wind
It does not penetrate here
Where the sun is strained through layered leaves
And the way is made unclear
By a forest wall, a wall of trees
Closing in on every side
And through these dense and tangled woods
There are no paths to meet my stride
So over, under, round and through
I make my way as best I can
Through woods that are ill-designed
For the passage of a man

Yet the woods are interrupted
Somewhere up ahead I know
By the edges of a field
Where trees give way to meadow
And through the meadow runs a brook
Broken free from the forest ranks
And like fabric along a zipper
The fields run along its banks
It runs for a mile or two
And along its course I'll roam
Before it intersects the road
That will lead me back to home
For though that way is less direct
Than returning the way I came
In terms of time it'll take
It is really about the same
For woods as dense as these
Are slower though shorter in span
Due to the fact they're ill-designed
For the passage of a man.

Those who gossip never doubt
That they're being talked about.

I spy with my eye looking up
A spark in the dark rising up
From a light in the night sending up
More sparks in the sky
On a breeze through the trees
That fade and then die
Swallowed up.

The wind is inciting the trees,
And they're altogether riotous.
I don't know what the wind is saying
But you can be sure it's scandalous!