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Shanna Baldwin Moore, US
 

 

 

 

Tanka

 

even the cave men hate it
Geico commercial
the little Aussi lizard
eating all the sacred Mo'o
Hawaiian gecko now extinct

 

 

early morning drive ...
a gate swinging open
at the graveyard
the old die hards out
cruizing their old haunts

 

 

when the wind blows
the spanish moss
catching my muse
the soft harmonics
of bamboo wind chimes

 

 

cowboy poet
rides the range
of madam Pele
overlooking the shores
of white water foam

 

 

the rose knows
the subtleties of dusk
a touch of mist
as the sun sets
her petals glow

 

 

her hands move gently
raindrops
through golden sunlight
bridging a rainbow
dance of the old ones
 

 

 

 

 

Kyoka

 

cell phones
bees' homing device
forever lost
missed communication
can you hear me now

 

 

real estate
prostitution
of the land
made barren
with cement

 

 

some say
women are smarter than men,
but you never see
a man wearing a shirt
that buttons down the back

 

 

getting so full
of yourself
overflow
and the cream
is lost

 

 

the birds
in the rain forest
change their tune
a strange
chain saw song

 

 

woman will never be equal to man
until they can
walk down the street
with a bald head and a beer gut,
and still think they are sexy

 

 

bursting forth
his spiritual leadership
in song
from a six pak
of beer

 

 

my grandaughter
ponders with wonder...
the date on the bottle
the wine
has expired

 

 

with a skosh
of scotch irish
and an indian in the woodpile
she makes her own
fire-water

 

 

His thoughts
tumbled in his head,
making and breaking alliances
like underpants in
a dryer without Cling Free.

 

 

veterans
in the forests
of the mountain
shell shocked
into silence

 

 

lady's night
at the local bar
the other clothes...
coming out
of the closet

 

 

for sale. used
Seelye Posturepedic
a few stains ...
not to worry, sterilized
the old man drank whisky

 

 

Clinton got caught
in the dentist office
with his pants down
blowin the sax
with just his mouthpiece

 

 

filling out
medical forms
name, age, sex ?
no not in
a long while

 

 

heat waves
of the high desert
fill the air you breath
ah...a shady place
there in your mind

 

 

O.J. said
they were theives
stole his trophy
heistmen
with guns

 

 

outlaws
tiptoeing
through
the bad lands
tripping

 

 

early morning drive...
a gate swinging open
at the graveyard
the die hards out
cruizing their old haunts

 

 

 

 

Read Additional Poems by Shanna Baldwin Moore

 

Shanna Baldwin Moore: Free Verse: Untitled

 

 

 

 

 

 

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