Correction.

Oops!

I was wrong about Billy and plum poems (he wrote one). It's poems with the word cicada or with vortex that he won't read. Go figure!

On Billy Collins refusing to read a WCW poem on plums

I never …
By GC SMITH

I never wrote a poem
about a plum
until just now
moments after
I ate one and its
juices dribbled
down my chin
to drip upon
my shirt

So,
screw you
Billy Collins
who won’t read
a poem about a plum,
your loss, not mine

Rules, rules. ...

impunity rules
by GC SMITH

seemingly, one can't rite
poetry, with &(s) or an :)
can you tell me why that should be?

is it perhaps 'cause Laureates
always become Bureaucrats
with rules to tax creativity

you can’t do this -you must do that
baloney, that’s how I react
to nonsense from you, didact

billy, teddy, such ones as you
don’t tell me what I can do
‘cause I ain’t about to listen

so, much like good old e e
my posey will be forth-cummings
with nary an apostrophe

i’ll pen my strophes
with my own strokes
paying no mind to your dictums

i'll break your rules
i'll throw them out
'cause that's what stuff is about

it's mine, it's mine
is what I say
you can't tell me the way

Yuck, poetry

That Awful Art Form
by GC SMITH

We don’t like poetry
abstract strophes confuse, but then
there is the plain, the concrete poem

We don’t like poetry
silly rhymes make for doggerel, but then
there’s always verse that’s free

We don’t like poetry
it’s pretentious is what we think, that is
until we find the stuff that's down to earth

We don’t like poetry
it’s not for you, not for me, though maybe
it is because we’ve closed our minds

We don’t like poetry
are we so sure and if so why is that?
Perhaps, we should give poetry a try

Maybe we could -might like poetry
if the stuff spoke to you -to me
but we gotta take it in to know

I ain't Joe the ...

'cause, like Colin Powell, I'm votin' for Obama.

But I do work with my hands;

A new one:

Been At Stuff For A While
By GC SMITH

I’m long in the tooth
but that doesn’t matter
I'm still good
for gettin' a job done

I do lots of stuff
‘cause it pleases me
that I’m still usin’
both my brains and my hands

I’m still good for
swingin’ my hammer

I’m still good for
sawin’ on woodstock

I’m still good for
fittin’ crown molding

I’m still good for
tilin’ a floor

I’m still good for
fixin’ the plumbing

I’m still good for
splicin’ a wire

I’m still good for
turnin’ my wrenches

I’m still good for
kissin’ my sweetie

I work hard with my hands
sometimes work hard with my mind
I play super hard in between
‘cause to me it’s what life is about


An old one:

What I've Done; What I Do
GC SMITH

I've scribbled my scribbles on pieces of paper
I’ve measured and sawed and hammered on wood
I’ve put wrenches to bolts to automobiles
I’ve wired and plumbed and painted my home

I play with my boat and fish in the waters
I swing my golf clubs and bet on the score
I read me good books and also some poems
I play poker and bridge and even some chess

I've worked for our uncle, you know the one ~Sam
Earning my paycheck with numbers and words
Now with my hands I've built and remodeled houses
To keep myself busy and, of course, for a profit

I’ve loved with my lover for near fifty years
I’ve heard what she says with interested ears
I’ve shared with my lover the raising of children
I’ve tried to be honest and fair doing that

I cook evening meals of fishes and meats
I drink beer and wine and sometimes a whiskey
I try to be neat and keep our home clean
And at that I fail cause I am a male slob

Between a rock and a fog

LIFE’S SUBLIME WATER
By GC SMITH

Nothing's sublime
in ghost-like gas
or in rock hard solid;
but think dear friend,
dream of aqua vitae

Who wants
ephemeral gasses
or eternal solids?
I’d rather aqua vitae;
it’s life sustaining water

Aqua vitae
life’s pure water,
the golden mean
between
gas and solid

One can’t
come clean
with smelly gasses
or with turd-like solids,
better to be washed in whiskey

New Politics

A New Crystalnacht Looms

It's time to teach again the young folk
of days of yore, of history’s horror politics

It's time to teach again the young folk
of intolerance, fear, hate, destruction, death

It's time to teach again the young folk
of pistols, truncheons, sabers as political tools

It's time to teach again the young folk
of blitzkriegs, and panzers rolling through Europe

It's time to teach again the young folk
of national socialist rallies, of virulence, of blood lust

It's time to teach again the young folk
of camps, of Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen, of slavery, of mass murder

It's time to teach again the young folk
of Jews, Gypsies, Homos, the halt and lame, dissenters tumbled to mass graves

It's time to teach again the young folk
that whispers of nigger, jew, homo, terrorist are virulent

It's time to teach again the young folk
that it can't happen in America just might be empty cant

It's time to teach again the young folk
the world's economic stage may be set for violent scapegoating

It's time to teach again the young folk
the price of truth and freedom is eternal vigilance

Summer's gone

What Goes Around ...

Green marsh grasses turn to brown
as lazy days of summer wind on down
Lowcountry winter can't be far behind

Autumn colors quickly fade away
as shortened days give way to gloom
of subdued, dun colored miasma

Lay up frozen crabs, shrimp, and fish
for winter repasts on chilly nights
when oak logs flame in country fireplaces

They're not forever these winter doldrums
spring's warming breezes soon banish chill
a newborn sun kisses the face of a daffodil

Sinning

The Seven Deadlies
GC SMITH

I might suffer my sweetie's wrath
for sloth I show toward honey do
but do not envy where you find me
a hammock's not a proud place to be
but I think that having lust for chores
could be interpeted as greed by me
therefore I'll skip honey do gluttony