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