Category Archives: Sheer Poetry

THE SQUEAK

lee_broom

THE SQUEAK by lee broom

 

How not What
By squickety squat

Squoke the Squeaker
While squeaking of What or What-not

When properly oiled
The squeaking abated

And minus the squeaking
A technique updated

Replacing the How
With the squeaker’s new Ought

(Just a thought)

 

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Love Makes the Rounds (before & after)

012

I have a file that I check every few days for birthdays and wedding announcements and the like. I have another file for all the comments and attaboys and warm, warn fuzzies sent my way. The first file is called The Lover. the second is called Accept The Love.

I get occasional backup from Facebook though I prefer earlier methods of just about any kind. A few decades ago, historical time references changed from BC to BCE. I wonder when it will change to PFB or from AD to AFB.

Lee Broom

Space Dust

big%20bang%20aftermath%20nasa

 

How many millions are in a trillion?

How many leaves in a forest?

How many souls exist in forever?

How many came before us?

 

Where is it written?’ Where are the answers?

Where is the heavenly Chorus?

When did the Big Bang Beget the beginning?

Is the answer there before us?

 

What if I told you I knew all along?

What if you held a Thesaurus?

A new interrogative might have an answer

Or perhaps it would simply bore us.

 

By Lee Broom

“I feel like CRAP!!!” Part Four.

012

Crap is a feeling

Its been two weeks)

The fever still with me

My body reeks

Of sweat

And Swelter

But today I crapped

Hurray.

 

But the fever and the chills

Seem here to stay

Bring on the pills

The aspirin

The chicken soup.

Today

Is the day

To get well.

Go tell

The birdies.

There are quail in my garden and a wren on the patio eating the crumbs I spilled at breakfast.

How healing is that?

How healing is that?

 

By Lee Broom

It’s Not Really Dancing.

012

It’s not really dancing.

It’s the joy that we share.

It is deep within us, it is always there.

Some call it Love. It is April. It is Home.

The Gift of Life; we know where it’s from.

 

We clap. We hum; will it disappear?

Perhaps we lack focus. What now do we hear?

The Sound of Silence?

Are we lonely now?

Yes, for the moment.

The Stillness of Tao.

 

Harken the rhythm. We’re not apart.

We hum. Yes, We listen to the beat of our heart.

We hum with our pulse. Really? We hum.

And then…..

We rise up and dance.

 

But it isn’t really dancing… not really… is it?

 

By Lee Broom

Love Makes the Rounds (before & after)

012

I have a file that I check every few days for birthdays and wedding announcements and the like. I have another file for all the comments and attaboys and warm, warn fuzzies sent my way. The first file is called The Lover. the second is called Accept The Love.

I get occasional backup from Facebook though I prefer earlier methods of just about any kind. A few decades ago, historical time references changed from BC to BCE. I wonder when it will change to PFB or from AD to AFB.

Lee Broom

CRAP, CHATTER and THIS IS IT.

IMG_0007

Stop, Stop

This BE way too much

Can’t stand this stuff.

No thought included.

Crap exuded through the lips

Of one who cannot see. Has ears

But cannot hear; (there are no eyes inside).

Still the chatter

IT’s self aways

And sways

And says

Ungracefully

Unfaithfully

“This is IT”

(Hearing only IT’s

SELF).

((Hearing only IT’s

SELF)).

 

Poetry by Lee Broom
Photography by Dave Wood.