Trinkets

By K. Ascher

Poetry about life, nature, little things, oh, and don't forget the coffee! Because sometimes you just need a poem (or two) as an ode to your favorite beverage, or because there's an incessant toad in the lake, or perhaps that stroll down memory-lane was a bit complex, but either way, it's all here for your enjoyment. This collection of the author's poems is like leafing through a collage of the mind, with little "Trinkets" of this and that, some little gems, some things that only suffice to make you smile at its absurdity, or perhaps something you might have missed if it hadn't been pointed out. But in any case, there's sure to be something here for everyone to enjoy, written mostly in free-verse wich makes it accessable to all readers, the author leaves no stone unturned. So grab your favorite cup of a tea, a cozy blanket, and curl up with a selection of poems about the physical and emotional aspects of this thing we call Life, 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ascher
• Release date: Nov 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223910992

Book preview

All Greek

I am no one of consequence.

One night I will slip quietly into the aether

with none the wiser.

I will have left no mark in passing.

And in passing; none have wept.

What ever happened to what's-her-name...?

No tombstones, no plaques, no mourners.

No flowers.

Cadaver on the med-student's slab.

Reduced to a letter-grade and a specimen container.

A pound of flesh and a penny for the Ferryman.

A dollar sixty-eight for a dram of minerals.

And Calcium.

We need the phosphorous for farming.

Soilent-sans-green.

Can you hear the crickets now?

Have I lost you dear?

Am I coming in five-by-five?

Cause I'm standin' right here.

Amend

I neglect the host.

To this I must confess.

By way of hand to mouth

such base a need

and in the basement feed.

It has too many wants

and needs

and wanton needs.

My purse is empty.

Take what hand you can as

I can’t comply in further demand.

Liquids spill and sutures mend,

broken birds don’t fly,

but stutter, flutter, in hopeless

circles screaming

Don’t touch! Don’t touch!

I neglect the host.

To this I must confess.

And wonder: to what end?

Symbiosis entwined...

We never did get

along.

American Medicine

Breakfast is a handful of pills.

She marvels a moment

at the stained-glass

arrangement in her palm

and wonders if

it’s really going to help at all?

This can’t be good for my liver,

she thinks, and swallows all

in one swift go. Ironic.

The yellow ones float;

more H-2-O.

She sits with a cup of comfort

and smiles because

that’s what she’s learned to do.

It’s just another day

to get though.

Ashes To Ashes

Perhaps we just leave

imprints in time

snapshots of energy

a piece here

a piece there

until, in one final

desperate gasp of defiance

a star collapses

and is reborn

in dust

Baker-y

All my words;

a breadcrumb trail.

Barreleye Bebe

Freaky fish, freaky fish,

you are my friend.

Freaky fish, freaky fish,

I can see into your head!

––––––––

Freaky fish, creepy fish,

has green-globe eyes.

Freaky fish, creepy fish,

I can see what’s on your mind!

––––––––

Freaky fish, inky fish,

has a cute little nose.

Freaky fish, inky fish,

your eyes, how they glow!

––––––––

Freaky fish, freaky fish,

in the deep blue sea,

Freaky fish, creepy fish,

can you see me?

Bear With Me

Where’s my Teddy Bear?

You know,

the one that’s missing an eye,

and most of his once-velvety fur,

button nose.

The one I’ve kept on my night stand,

since the day they packed up the sun

and took it away

and locked it up

under a glass dome.

Now they charge 25 cents

just for a peek.

So I’ll take my SPF 30

and my UV shades,

and the keys to the car—

but leave my lipstick

on your pillow.

I’ll never wear that perfume again.

See, Teddy and I,

we’re gonna drive all night,

till we get over that hill

where the sun shines.

I think there’s a quarter in the ashtray.

Beautiful Horrific Grin

I’ve been under your spell

for three years now.

Held and melded within your thrall

with a glassy-eyed countenance

and cotton-wrapped soul.

With lidded eyes

and leaden tongue,

I’ve been under your thumb.

––––––––

Leaving you digs

like teeth on my spine,

a gritting, writhing ache

where my wings used to be.

It pains me to stay here

hating you for helping me,

pains me to hate you

for hurting me.

––––––––

Oh, but you smile with those

glittering and jagged teeth,

beautiful horrific grin,

you draw me in,

and lie with those eyes

and lie with me in bed

and I want to get swept up

in those lies again.

Even the wolf’s smile can be beautiful.

Because Tardigrades (Are Cool)

You’ve got eight,

I’ve got six,

legs, that is.

We can retract them in place

and then fly through space

and colonize a race.

All we need is a bit of green

on which to feed

now everyone sing:

Algae and moss! –