Monday, 22 November 2010

the forced readings of Nagi Ramone - G Clair

In my box, with rictus grin
they could not straighten with a pin~
I lay before my friends and folks
and seemed to smile at silent jokes~

and some did wonder, what was planned
but little could they understand
how I looked on from up above
and hovered over those I love~

it all went off without a hitch
the biker said I was a bitch
and with that word, the motley crew,
they blocked the doors so none passed through~

They dimmed the lights, to set the mood
and turned the music down to 'brood'
and every guest then took a seat
and fanned the sweat of stinky feet.

The biker wiped his eyes, and said,
'It's very hard to see her dead,
but it should come as no surprise,
that Nagi, with her smiling eyes,

made this request of all her friends,
and here's the list, and there's some pens.
She'd like you all to listen, while
her written works are read 'in style'.

And if one title strikes a note
of relevance, is what she wrote,
then jot it down and pass it to
the one beside you in the pew.

and at the end of every row
stood someone with a basket though
it wasn't clear where this would go
my friends and family had to know

the basket filled to overflowing
you read the one you picked, not knowing
I was watching from on high
and busting out, my old laugh-cry

'Twas several hours that had passed
and people dying to be gassed
Could this one be the very last?
the final poem that Nagi cast?

The friends and folk of my rich past
applauded, it was done at last!
and headed for the open air,
and as they reached the doorway there~

a book was handed to each guest
My dying wish, you'd all be blessed,
and finally you would have, to own,
a coffee table book, a tome

And every poem I ever wrote
contained within the pages, note
the title, it was all my own
'The Forced Readings of
Nagi Ramone.'

Saturday, 20 November 2010

swkinpa- G- clair

Appreciate the way you think
the simple life, our common link
the words we share, the subtle smiles
which pass between so many miles.

Tuesday, 16 November 2010

The Ancient Rhythm of Ebb and Flow- G Clair

Eb pulls back, he holds his peace
he's done with Flo, he's wined the beast
and as it's said, 'don't tread where sands are shifting'
ebb and flow, they come and go
ebb draws us out, the tides are low,
but as we yearn, return, and stop our drifting.

i stand on rock, alone at last
and mourn for what is done and past
but still, with broken heart, recall the surges;
the times when you were out at sea
and when you finally wrote to me
I laugh at how you satisfied my urges.

The words we shout from distant shores
the ones which fall on heavy oars
which make the trip back home far less than pleasing;
far better are the words on wing
which land with olive branch and sing
a song of love which keeps the flow from freezing.

but even in the closest knit
where scarcely will the piece not fit
there's comes a rhythm known as ebb and flow.
and marriage is a special bond
and Eb and Flo they looked beyond
and understood the way it had to go.

and through the laughter and the tears
and late night dances, sharing beers
they always knew the highs would lead to low.
and now Flo waits on lonesome shore
for time apart was forced before
as time would have it, 'twas Eb's time to go.

Gina Morrone

Big Eddy - G Clair

I don't have a clue what to write in this song
the chorus is fine but the words are all wrong
although it's been said that these lines should be read
thought it best if you sung them instead, dear Ed,
drag a comb through your darling bedhead

Well I came home to find you asleep on the couch
and tiptoed around you my big hungry slouch
if I knew you were home I'd a planned something nice
but this chicken's still frozen on ice, anyway
let us pray that you'll take my advice.

Don't say you do when you don't
Ed I'm talking to you honey
Don't say you will when you won't
you know it really isn't funny
Don't say you'll come when you know that you can't
and I won't say a word when you rant
no I shan't, not a whisper from me when you rant!

Last month I told you my car's rather beat
the muffler that's hanging? it dropped in the street
the cops heard me coming and followed me home
on the back of my ticket, your poem- it's a tome
on the lips of my lover is foam

Paint me a picture, I'll pay for your time
Inspire one stanza, I'll write the last line
if you'd bring me some hope for I'm failing to cope
we could spice up our rhythm with rhyme, one more time
give me something worth more than a dime

Don't say you do when you don't
Ed, I'm talking to you honey
Don't say you will when you won't
you know it really isn't funny
Don't say you'll come when you know that you can't
and I won't say a word when you rant
no I shan't, not a whisper from me when you rant

Tuesday, 2 November 2010

one small dream G Clair

one small dream was all i had
not much but still it grew into a photograph
not much but still it flew on one fond memory
let me fly this one small dream into reality.

Do you mind? G-Clair

Do you mind if I borrow your rose-colored glasses
my day's been a shade of deep blue~
and by chance could you spare me your spit-fits of laughter
while I sort through these bills that are due?

Gina Morrone