National Poetry Month--Day Neun--Pleiades Poem--Tardigrade

Okay. Here's another poem not necessarily the right one for the day, but the real one will follow soon. This one's a stopgap measure:

If I hear anymore about quarantine
I'm going to explode and get really mean
I'm sick of TP
And of sheltering me
And I'm ready to bounce like a jumping bean

This stupid virus is getting stale
I've only been outside to fetch the mail
I'm getting so fat
I look like a huge vat
Of repulsive goo moldy, disgusting, and pale

Let's hear no more rubber glove stories
Of shopping like indignant moreys
I want to break out
And go driving about
To hear all my peeps stories gory.

Written from my dang bedroom, ©2020 by H. Linn Murphy
 That was yesterday. Today I have a dang cough...sigh. Yeah yeah yeah, I'm in bed.


And  now for something completely different. Here's a Pleiades Poem. If you are as at sea as I am about this elusive poetry form, go here to find out about it.
 So here's my Pleiades poem:

TARDIGRADE

Trinket the Tardigrade is my new pet

Tiny is he, 'bout as small as it gets

The moss piglet is at home in the wet

Taking his food from the water, you bet

Taking a walk is a challenge I've met

Tiny leash makes it like walking a jet

Trying to catch him with a teensy net
 ©2020 by H. Linn Murphy

 

National Poetry Month--Day 22--Pleiades Poem, Spares

Today we're doing a Pleiades Poem. Yeah, I was snowed too, until I went here and looked it up. So this is my offering today, since I will be sitting in the dentist's office while my son gets his teeth done before he goes off to parts unknown on his two year mission for our church. Plus there are some other poems I did freelance.

DENTISTS

Do they Delight in the Decidedly Dippy grins and

Delirious Discussions of their Definitely Dopped-up 

Dental patients as they Dive into the Doors of breath

During Dental Discoveries? Definitely. They just Deny

Doing Dastardly Deeds with cameras.

Dentists Don't Daunt me.

Do they Delight or Debilitate you?

(This poem was seven lines before the kerning messed it up.)

And my spares:

DEVOURING

Oh ye doors of breath and conversation

Which pucker to accept

The kiss of a husband and render the same 

To loves familial,

Which speak a plethora of phrases both

Absurd and Profound,

Aid and derision, 

Longing and replete,

Which sing in dusky tones and

Fill the air with laughter and sarcasm,

Why must ye spring wide

To accept such vast quantities of repast?

Though the mind quails at 

The promise of rotundity,

You unhinge as a snake

To welcome enough victuals

To support an embattled keep.

Groan you then, and dither and whinge

About the impending tonnage.

Close the gate, I say.

Push back before impending doom.

Leave some for the rest of the country.

SLEEP THIEF

That curtain of black velvet

Which steals away the cares of day

Evaded me last night

Leaving only lassitude.

I run and run and 

Never catch the racing thief

Of dreams and plans

And budding hopes.

Take only ID this night, 

Old friend.

Leave dreams behind.

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy