Irons in fires and babies in bathwater burning hands on hot choices tossing dreams with the gray matter Dead horses are flogged and red herrings are leaders drown on dry land cry-cry the bleeders Cats bark up the wrong trees and worship false gods disheveled deliriums reverence for frauds Covet glittering fool’s gold and turning blind eyes doves are but pigeons baked blackbird pies Stitch in time saving nine and the madd hatter’s head gear leaches mercury anyway insane-inside voices leer jeer and snear Knights in armour so shiny and heads up in clouds chainmails breed rust glory dreams become shrouds Hold feet to wildfires and get raked over coals an ingrate's in-gratitude shown to kind souls Hands unfit to hold candles and heads full of loose screws hold powerful offices govern from pews Low men on high horses and caught with pants down got nil on Godiva gadding all about town Pots call kettles black and once upon a blue moon justice prevails victories small and hard hewn Keeping nose to the grindstone and paying with arms legs and heart a fertile mind screams just keep making art Get your three squares and beeline to the hive but find the bumblers and fumblers they are your tribe Life in a pickle jar and facing the music pay heed inner wild children they are the muses Make all days red letter and pull out all the stops climb trees climb mountains view your world from hilltops live high on that hog for yours doth have wings and when lift-off fails get up on a swing Affix rose coloured glasses and don your finest of finery misbegotten cretins remain but you’ll make damn fine scenery ~Marcela: Idiomatically yours. November 11, 2018 Poetry: All Rights Reserved, please share with attribution Image: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Don%27t_throw_the_baby_out_with_the_bathwater
Idiomatic Idea(l)s
11 Sunday Nov 2018
Posted in Poetry
Irons in fires
and babies in bathwater
burning hands on hot choices
tossing dreams with the gray matter
Dead horses are flogged
and red herrings are leaders
drown on dry land
cry-cry the bleeders
Cats bark up the wrong trees
and worship false gods
disheveled deliriums
reverence for frauds
Covet glittering fool’s gold
and turning blind eyes
doves are but pigeons
baked blackbird pies
Stitch in time saving nine
and the madd hatter’s head gear
leaches mercury anyway
insane-inside voices leer jeer and snear
Knights in armour so shiny
and heads up in clouds
chainmails breed rust
glory dreams become shrouds
Hold feet to wildfires
and get raked over coals
an ingrate's in-gratitude
shown to kind souls
Hands unfit to hold candles
and heads full of loose screws
hold powerful offices
govern from pews
Low men on high horses
and caught with pants down
got nil on Godiva
gadding all about town
Pots call kettles black
and once upon a blue moon
justice prevails
victories small and hard hewn
Keeping nose to the grindstone
and paying with arms legs and heart
a fertile mind screams
just keep making art
Get your three squares
and beeline to the hive
but find the bumblers and fumblers
they are your tribe
Life in a pickle jar
and facing the music
pay heed inner wild children
they are the muses
Make all days red letter
and pull out all the stops
climb trees climb mountains
view your world from hilltops
live high on that hog
for yours doth have wings
and when lift-off fails
get up on a swing
Affix rose coloured glasses
and don your finest of finery
misbegotten cretins remain
but you’ll make damn fine scenery
~Marcela: Idiomatically yours.
November 11, 2018
Poetry: All Rights Reserved, please share with attribution
Image: