Saturday, February 20, 2010

this way and that...

[For "When Pigs Fly" at Sunday Scribbling, and "globe" at One Word. And that's that.]

calamine whirl,

tastee freez,

vigorous plasticity:

the over unders

come gift-wrapped,

if not warped at speeds

that best not comply,

reliance-heavy appliances

in the festoonery

of the tidy

buffoons. Admiral Peavy

thought otherwise,

with his salad bar

doubloons, lace-captured

down the alleys

of blue drizzle,

camping out

in the eagle's nest

of darkest La Grange.

Bedtime improves

the circulation,

a velvet rumpus for fools,

an easter gallivant for


a sample bath for

Little Miss Plucky.

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Blogger Stan Ski said...

It reads so smoothly, but surreally ambiguous.

9:34 PM  
Blogger Teresa said...

Oh my. So which "globe" are you talking about here? This poem is just so much fun. I love the tasty-freeze swirls in the picture (that might be baptismal fonts for the new times new), in which case the circulation was certainly improved once upon a bedtime during a foolish velvet rumpus on an easter gallivant, but yo' daddy and yo' mama ain't no fossils honey, or yo' sho' wouldn't be here now would ya', Little Miss Plucky!!

And of course, those thoughts just warp one's speeds and make one want to festoon the buffoons and celebrate, dance to the music of a crazy little Murat poem.

10:07 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Stan: Force of habit.

8:18 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Good morning, Teresa: I find that rhymes keep popping up, without even trying. I prefer it that way, though I'm still not sure it's a good thing.

Glad you had fun with this; it was fun to slide down, though halfway down I heard a voice say "What is this garbage?" and then I couldn't help myself, I had to finish it anyway.

I'm happy you caught on to the true identity of Little Miss Plucky. No fool you, Ms Girl.

8:23 AM  
Anonymous Julie Jordan Scott said...

Especially like the line "the over unders come gift wrapped"....

Thank you.

10:08 AM  
Blogger Teresa said...

Well, you know what they say: One man's garbage is another person's treasure trove. Just ask the paper bag ladies... (like me).

On an even sillier note, this may be the reason things keep popping into your head. :)

Have a terrific day.

12:47 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Julie: You are most welcome.

4:46 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: I think you're onto it: gotta get me a tinfoil hat! Of course, poet in me sez, "Better not!"

Weather's gorgeous over here. It is most terrific! Back atcha.

4:48 PM  
Blogger Devil Mood said...

I like the last sentence, it certainly rings some truth to me. In this cold, bedtime has to improve circulation :)

How are you? Even though I'm not always here, I do check my google reader every day :)

6:54 PM  
Blogger Dee Martin said...

I loved the tastee freez of oonery, swirls around the tongue when you read it out loud!

9:19 PM  
Blogger Teresa said...

I say "Better not," too, or the world would be bereft of Murat poems, and that would be a sad, sad thing. But I did want you to know that you are not alone in having things popped into your head, and the Brits have found a defense against unwanted rubbish in the brain. They could be useful for the days when you don't WANT to rhyme or for the days when you are just itching for iambic pentameter a la Pope, and the free verse just won't stayed lassoed down. Then a little "Alcoa Chapeau," as one of my friends calls them, just might do the trick.

Glad it was a terrific day for you. I had a pretty good day myself, although writing my blog was not such a happy thing. I went round and round in circles for weeks about whether or not to write that story, but I think it did deserve to be told.

9:32 PM  
Anonymous Marinela said...

Love your beautiful blog =]

Great poem.

3:07 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Aloha, Ms Mood! Bedtime is highly recommended. I wish I could send you some of our warmth, but according to the forecasters, we will be turning back to chillycold ourselves, just as I head into the hills with my ninth graders for three days of fun and not-so-sun.

I am well, and so happy to hear from you. I lay in bed this morning and came to the realization that, for all practical purposes, this school year is just about over. Strange notion for late February.

Very best wishes to you.

5:56 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Dee: It gives me great pleasure to know that all this oonery is being recited up Paris-way. I am blessed.

5:57 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: As you well know, the courage of your writing is an important witness for us all. I'm glad the labyrinth brought you round to writing the post.

6:02 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Marinela: Thank for your lovely compliment.

6:02 AM  
Anonymous Miss Alister said...

Hey P! Man, this one’s packed with so many clickings from that brain pan of yours. But if you told me I could take only one thing away when I leave here, I’d take the chalky pink stain on my tongue from the calamine tastee freez. Good to be back over here finally. Feels like it always did, and I like it when no one fools with the good stuff : )

2:31 PM  
Blogger Tammie Lee said...

I am left with a feeling
your world through your experience
as I read the rolling rhythm of your words.

7:24 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

That you, Ms A? Frozen brain pan, perhaps. No need to choose here: you can take the whole thang. It's all festooned lagniappe.

8:35 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Tammie: That world is definitely in there. Hope the ride isn't too queasy...

8:36 AM  

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