I’ve A Friend Called Firefly

I’ve a friend I call Firefly, for reasons I’ve explained,
and we take nightly walks together,
but mostly in dreams.

We wax and wane the philosophical, two cerebral beetles
stepping lively over the cobblestone,
making deliberation of the gods of Serendipity, Accident, Judgement,
lifting up our hands to brush the coniferous needles
pushed to their limits by the cold autumn
now wintered.

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Crazy

*Alliteration Poem – Crazy*

12th Oct’17  ~by Venkat
Corners curl, covered chameleons

Crumple cliches, clouds clone

Clock clawed, chirps cease

Godly Conversations…

Me: Dear God…

God: Yes God

Me: You are the god!

God: Why do you think so?

Me: you created us. You are the ultimate source for this universe, the vigour for everything that ‘exists’

God: No, you created you… You are God!

Me: I created me?

God: Of course… God!

Me: Who created you?

God: Me? We ain’t diverse

Me: Am not clear, alright… What after death?

God: Empty…

Me: Empty?

God: Yes, Empty.

Me: What is Empty?

God: Nothing… A State of vacuum. A Nullified Cognizance!

Me:  Let me put it this way, what is Death?

A GOOD CONVERSATIONALIST

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

 

they say

I’m a good conversationalist

 

maybe I am

but it’s probably because

Outside Inside

Our inside output
Does not need
Your outside input

Alpaca

This week you’ll find me writing
about an animal each day
And though the choice is massive
Alpacas do deserve a say
And there are three here in particular
that I wanted to include
For as they made a special effort
not to do so would be rude

Pub

Sitting in Hobgoblin
with an IPA
Watching raindrops falling down
here I think I’ll stay

Passing pleasantries

I overheard a conversation
above me in the sky
as two seagulls passed up in the blue
casually flying by
But as I am not fluent
in ‘Gull’ I’m sad to say
that I have no idea
of what was said there yesterday

Sharp Tongue

Compacted neatly into bite-sized balled needles,
my internal epidemics huck out.

They vomit forward:
as adjectives as nouns as verbs as plurals;
damnable daggering hounds stretching necks
far ahead to snap maws
tight around unsuspecting jugulars.

Encouraging the sun

 

Fragile and fleeting
a delicate sun
Kissed a few flowers
and then it was done

Hiding behind
a dark wall of grey
It bid me farewell
and was gone for the day

A very English conversation

 

“It’s a cooler day, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, but yesterday
was great for me as I prefer
the heat, I have to say”
“You’re right of course, but then again
some rain would do us good”
“Depends upon your point of view”
I said, misunderstood.

York II

Ye Olde Starre Inne in York
For three hundred seventy years
has been licensed as a posting house
and the serving up of beers

Conversation – haiku

 

Conversing unheard
Yet the sound is a comfort
Warming like coffee

Candle

Flickering yellow as dusk falls down
Candles in their stands await
An interlude of sweet perfume
As family, true to form, runs late

A dog’s life

 

It’s quiet at home with just us four
And the background radio station
The dogs they listen when we chat
But it’s a one-sided conversation