Poodle-Zen Of Lamp Post Maintenance

rarely reaching its eyes
the zipped city sun..
smiles
puckering the vacuum-pursed smile
beloved of the benevolent debt collector..

rise rise repossess and rise
cut out the star for zap-serrated skies
quivering flies sentinel the fraying custard pie
pawn your silver
knit chunky cardigans for your frozen heaters
worms will worm
hail new caesar..

and under that dwindling sun..
a high-energy poodle
yaps like an ever-looping car alarm
because
to this clown-mascaraed mutt
everything looms and screams
fire..fire..fire..
                 the poor neighbours..

frazzled poodles fluffy tufts scrawny
the best friend and decoy
for burglars
and vehicle thieves..

this tumbling rank towel
this wagging satellite-tracked dementor
this phantomic bucking whirler
is very slowly stalked by its woolly-hatted saskwatch
three different beards interwoven
bristle hay-stacked ziggurat
angst doctorate-decorated
a hidden cam inside his man-bag
he vapes a venetian blinds-style covid mask
                   disintegrating him his husk
                                  trust the man zugzwang..

destined fetched
this north face-clad individual
murkily shape-shifts between smart lamp posts
while his concrete-trampolining bouffant cloud
soft-ligatured
down-lit
stinging rain-deodorised
waters a row of alloyed smart daffodils
golden showered-rusting
steam-sprayed paws-deep
as if immersed
in an award-winning post-modern art installation
for there is no other kind which alights
a panegyrical panel of elite experts so slight
how they delight in themselves
self-proclaimed
gargling word-salad gain-of-function niceties
their airtight art lifeless
thus prized..

and there the man of poodle wanders..
but perhaps
a bead of inner eye inkling
wonders..

 

 

 

So, How Was it for You?

 

Dear friends,

So, how has this year been for you? Hope it has not been too shabby, despite all that is going on in this bewildering and shocking realm.

A small new update, actually relating to my previous one: As nearly all of you have bookmarked this site, I have again removed the Blogger subscriber button. Hardly anyone is using the feature, so it seems redundant.

In October, this site hit a new record ,of sorts, enjoying ~ forty-thousand unique visits. A nice little boost for my otherwise shredded ego. So, again, big hugs to each and every one of you for that!

The range of the readership is widening, too. The female/male breakdown is around a  50/50 split, but it has always been that way. What is new, is the regions, with South America and Asia catching up with Europe and North America. I still hardly receive any interest from the Middle East, Africa, or Australia/ New Zealand, however. Similarly Vogue supermodels and Bollywood actresses seem to be failrly thin on the ground. Ah well, you can't have everything.

The age range of the readers is pretty wide and evenly spread. I love that. And, in terms of creatives, as well as poets and songwriters - prose writers, humourists and arts academics seem to have had their interests also piqued.

Oh, before I forget, recently I received a couple of wry emails with links to AI interpretations of my two most recent poems; one by Elon Musk’s Grok. Try it, see what you make of it. A dream interpretation A.I. comin' up!

Wishing you all a peaceful and fulfilling New Year. See you in 2026. Take care. XX

Suki

 

 

Burst Bubble Collector

 

i am an avid collector of my burst bubbles
i am blessed with that sense of falling light..

prescient spheres float
then..
boom
drench through
my eyes
my face
my torso
the higher the cloudburst my gaze..

the eyelash muscles lance..
my exploding bubbles blossom brushed
decease
evanescent pristine
kind of amazing
i did that
i burst another bubble of mine all mine..
participation certificate exclusively for the-almost-one..

the moonlit night in repose
a distant party over there or there..
or there..or gone
where fireworks so gauzily claim my inner eyelids blushed
i must have closed my eyes my eyes
stirred only by the broken egg sunrise
twitching to the witching hour of dawn
my mourning chorus sings a soaking silent yes..

underwater
i relearn how to breathe..
underwater
i half-register my habitat..
these rooms
waver like on an old film reel..

subtle sepia cinereal streams
stick-men line silhouettes
celluloid artifacts on warped display
float and collide..
mosaics..

these rooms
brushed and polished by lunar tides lapidary
but for a noir-laden sax line
a self-conscious joke performative
nothing missing
all nothing missing..

as an avid collector of my burst bubbles
the connection seems natural continual
shades fissure rotational
bauble eyes crystalline crack
arced loops swoop in procession low
the pulsing slowed sky in recession
and like solar-tinged kingfisher wings
fold-dive molten feathers for spears
the missives melting
but how they soar and soar descending..

i reach out
the bursts flame out
the flashing darkness festive
teal vermilion scarlet indigo..ash
then i dare to dream them willingly re-emerge spherical..

glittering charred
blistering into an invisible palette void
piped holes inject
sting like long-life refrigerated frost-for-taste
prepper in reverse through and through
ice cold-hot-cold..
no bubble burst wasted..

timelines elapse evaporate..
one at a time
fleeing fanning towards me away in succession..
their memorative acupuncture dart me parked up..

i am an avid collector of my burst bubbles
at some point
i lost count of all the cusps i invited myself to marvel at
soon.. soon..
this one..okay no..this one..
this time..definitely this time..arrival..carnival..

hot air balloons luminescent entrance magnificent
their pregnant presence
a grand-looking concept album cover
imagistic promissory inner sleeve notes
so flattering and enticing
bearing instant engulfing comfort..
the stance of tropes reassure themselves
tripping substance..

and sometimes while i sit in the bath
on the tip-of-the-tongue
a song familiar yet not fully composed
i falteringly hum likened words
as someone...

and when i was a child
i was mesmerised by sweet wrappers..

the paper glass crinkled so satisfyingly
against my inhaling fingertips
and in my open palm
the surround roared of rain-teemed-rainbows
lightning flashes crackled inside my ear canals
in spellbinding echoes all the improbable vailed
hiding in plain sight
gilding the essence
sweet lies innocent..