poems by Rudolf Kurt Penner

The Mother of the barista has promised to do the job
if only she can get 100,000 bob
what would the mythological giants say to this
if they could plant upon her face a kiss,
it rings true, it
rings true; don’t it?
She brings them here
she brings them there
and ne’er a hair is singed.
Except the Unbearable Likeness of Being
which Sees all the Underhanded Things
miniscule Ones would say
there is not a microscopic chance
it could be be seen
except InBetween
Buttons, charlattans,
coffins, pink beryls
on fine rings of poets
pass around the ring the pot of poetry inspiration
a clay cup of word coining
her face a kiss
a branch she nearly missed
is flat down on the ground
lying beneath a 85-year-old tree
born the day her father was
born again after they all
came from different countries
bath will bring true colours
back after aromatherapeutic oils
these could be seen floating oily on the water

© 2012

May 20, 2012 Posted by | All Poems, esoteric/unintelligible | Leave a comment