the pencil poems

copyright, mis_nomer

Judge me

Sunday, December 17, 2006
Take out your measuring scales --
___I will stand still --
Against your ruler etched
___black with moral markers
the how what why wherefore the colour
___of underwear worn on Tuesday last
of righteous behaviour.

Twenty-nine obtuse angles

Thursday, November 16, 2006
It was a dream, let me say that first,
A dream of twenty-nine obtuse angles.
______the kind of dream where philosophers and physicists
furrow their brows together and mumble,
"No logic! No logic!" and hobble away
to the next mathematical problem
that exemplifies the universality
the Pythagoras Theorem.

It was a dream, with a girl.
A girl with a cat and red golden curls.
A girl in love with a girl in love with a boy,
Who, remarkably, loved the girl, the girl
with the cat and the red golden curls.

So round and round the love letters went
__dear girl >
____dear boy >
______dear girl, you with the cat and the red golden curls >
____dear girl >
__dear boy >
Until the girl threw up her hands and kissed the boy,
and spurned the girl with the cat
and the red golden curls.

So she bought a house with a room with a view
and sat on her rocking chair and fell asleep
and dreamed this dream nonsensical,
about a girl with a cat and the red golden curls.

I love my bluetooth dongle

Friday, October 27, 2006
I love you in the morning,
I love you at high noon,
I love you in the evening,
I love you till I swoon.

Eighteen bucks and you were mine,
Smithering smootherin one-of-a-kind!
Give me fifty; no, I won't trade
My bluetooth dongle is heaven-made.

Listen to me lay my case:
You make the world a better place!
No more wires, no more walls,
No more trippin', no more falls!

Ah don't you laugh at my serenade
I'm on a blue-dongle power crusade!

the fowler's snare

Sunday, July 02, 2006
her bone juts through
white between her flesh
raw and bloody pink
caught in metal snare

she used to try to tug
against her broken wing
summoned by a dream
of blue and whistling wind

but dull now are her thoughts
dull her desire to dare
her wispy dream laid to rot
while caught in fowler's snare

what a song she will sing
that day of sweet escape
a quiet word he will speak
and metal snare unmake

fly! high above the trees
the clouds the sun the sea
discover anew the p'wer of wind
and what it is to be truly free

(ps 124:7; rom 8:2; jn 8:36)

In memory of you

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

If I ran slow, it was not your fault
For you were sleek and swift
As light as cloud, as fast and wind
A knight's horse with a rubber sole
You wore the garment of elves
Turquoise silver, green and grey
Taking the brunt with every step,
Always selfless, true and kind,
Eight months is far too short
To count your days as mine.

( October 17, 2005 - 26 June, 2006)

A token

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Here is a token sweet and true
Cambodian silk in green and blue
Soft as a petal, the contours of wind
Strong when tested, still pliable at will.


Thursday, May 04, 2006
initials inked on
invoices, finger-pointing
expose of guilt