Trip Doors

(A Pantoum)

Strange days, waiting for the sun.
Touch me — the changeling, wild child.
Land ho, Indian Summer, five to one.
Spanish caravan, Peace frog reviled.

Touch me — the changeling, wild child.
Horse latitudes, my eyes have seen you.
Spanish caravan, Peace frog reviled.
Tell all the people of Shaman’s blues.

Horse latitudes, my eyes have seen you.
Tonight you’re in for a special treat.
Tell all the people of Shaman’s blues
At the Hyacinth house on Love street.

Tonight you’re in for a special treat.
The hill dwellers light my fire
At the Hyacinth house on Love street.
(You need meat) don’t go no further.

The hill dwellers light my fire.
Land ho, Indian Summer, five to one.
(You need meat) don’t go no further.
Strange days, waiting for the sun.

Copyright (c) 2016 Tom Arnone

Water Bug Love

Melancholy water bug softly eating.
Linda rolling, endless, leaping.
Gentle passion lazily beating.
Salty apparition, silent, peeping.

Huge white horses gently blow,
Looming, ghostly white horses.
In summer breakers they surf and flow,
Beautiful, mostly complex courses.

Softly looming lazy Lin
Lifts her smooth, clog-clad fin.
Melancholy cricket clicks and hisses,
Waking, Tom, who hastily kisses.

Pungent passion water spout,
Crashing sexy lovers seeping.
Two little whatchamacallits twist and shout,
To summer Linda, swimming, reaping.

Skinny Linda gently ebbing.
Foamy spray sifts through her webbing.
Warm Tom lovingly stirring, laughing.
Fleet water beings jumping and splashing.

Eerie floating cytoplasmic forms
In pools of soupy water streams.
In pungent living sunspot storms
He cooks water bug love in the beams.

Copyright © 2005 Tom Arnone
(Revised 2009)
– See more at: http://www.wildrhymetrees.com/poetry.html