Dandelion Sun (rewrite)

The days of
dandelion sun
are gone,
evaporated
like the puddle
that we pretended
was a piece of sky
that had fallen
into the yard.

The moon's
snowy owl
white light
shimmers,
projects shadows
that soothe
me as I embrace
them and
let myself
be absorbed
into their
endless night. - Jeff Barnes

A shameful commentary on our society

Police Car

A police car in
your rear view mirror
is an unsettling sight.

When I see one
I am ashamed to feel
relieved that I am white. - Jeff Barnes

Pluto

My head is like an H-bomb.
I feel my vessels constringe
like a ton of nitroglycerin
packed into a syringe.
I want to go to Pluto
because I belong on the fringe.

My skin is inside out.
Everything has gone astray.
There's nowhere I can go
and nowhere I can stay.
Please take me to Pluto.
I need to be far away.

There's a yawning void above us.
The sky is in pieces on the floor.
The ocean has exploded.
There are skeletons on the shore.
I need to be on Pluto.
I can't stay here anymore.

Everybody seems unconscious.
Everyone's a hypocrite.
Everything is sinking
into a pitch-black pit.
Take me home to Pluto.
It's the only place I fit. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku for May 11

It's Twilight Zone Day.
Nobody seems to know why.
How appropriate. - Jeff Barnes

Deluge

There are storm clouds on my ceiling,
an ocean on my floor,
piranhas in my coffee cup,
and an octopus at the door.

I've got oysters in the attic
and in the basement, a whale.
A shark devoured the postman
as he delivered the mail.

My carpet's turned to seaweed.
There are barnacles on the wall.
I plummet down the steps,
riding on a waterfall.

I float out of the doorway.
The water ferries me along
Carry me, river, take me away
to a place where I belong. - Jeff Barnes

NaPoWriMo, Day 30

It is the final day of this year's NaPoWriMo or, as I like to call it, Poetry Boot Camp. I will still be posting poetry here, but probably not on a daily basis. I need a bit of a rest. Anyway, today's prompt is to write a poem about a strange and fascinating fact.

Boner Part

In New York in 1927
the Museum of French Arts
had on display the penis
of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Most museum patrons
were not overly impressed,
so, guys, don't feel inadequate
when you get undressed.

One newspaper account
described it as a "shriveled eel."
Imagine how dejected that
would have made Napoleon feel.

Throngs of giggling people filed by
to pay it their respects.
Of course someone had to coin
the term Napoleon Complex.

Laugh if you must, but remember,
it was once inside the pants
of the man who, for ten years,
was the Emperor of France. - Jeff Barnes

NaPoWriMo, Day 29

Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is based on the Plath Poetry Project's calendar, in which you choose a Sylvia Plath poem and write something in response to or inspired by it. I chose her poem, Daddy and tried to write something with similar repetitive rhymes and sense of despair. I don't know if it's any good or not, but here it is.



The Dream


I had no idea what I should do.
I was left without a clue
in the dream I had of losing you.
the sensation was entirely new.
It burned through and through,
this feeling I never knew.
The ground was on fire
and the sky was frigid and blue.
What was left of my mind
burst out of my head and flew.
My fingers couldn't grip
and my brain couldn't think.
Everything was thrown out of sync.
My balance was gone in a blink.
Summer birds died in the cold.
My head was too heavy
for my body to hold.
All the colors turned to gray.
I stuttered and puttered
but could not say.
Dragonflies turned
into birds of prey
as the vortex began
to spin me away
and drown me in my own
tears of grief.
I knew the abyss
would be my only relief. - Jeff Barnes