A Blue Planet Aquarium

 

‘Tis there not a  magnificent world for thee

Little goldfish - with your ancient and delicate fins?

Has confinement been good for the refinement

of the cyprinidae? (sa-prini-dee)

Oh, my great fearsome beast that owns the sea

Living in matrilineal groups

And through scores of time;

What hath thee more than me? 

My precious little golden key

I know better the planet

Under the sea that speaks across the ages

Far more than you can ever know or see.

Perhaps this is so and only so to be

Because you must consume to suit your mass.

However, I too exist in masses under the sea;

Thus, we are but tiny exotic little things in universal relativity.

Swirl Me into a Fit

 

My name is Kakawa and I am ancient.

I am the source of pleasure and taste

And traded for gold around the world

To suit the impulse and mystify the sentient!

My name is Sundae and I am an affection;

Scoops and parts to be a conglomerate of tastes

Blended and added with nuts, bananas, cream

And the finest strawberry; a confectioner’s invention.

Yes, indeed my pretended friend

And if you will swirl my syrups

Around your mounds and peaks

You will then also become the perfect end. 

Oh, my chippy cocoa bean, in full troll

I’m irresistible whether in a dish, cone or bowl

With sprinkles, nuts, licorice  or a cherry top.

My taste is too scrumptious to stop

Only on Sundays as my sweetness, it is told,

Is always good for the young and the old.

Chasing Constance

 

in the mean of the blue 

there known but few true

constants except for the run

to find the infinite one;

for each realm is its own

constant and will traverse home

to return to where the heart waits

for its star-crossed fates.

April's Folly

 

That which slept away

in the warmth of earthy loams

awakens now from the stillness;

from throes of a winter’s stasis.

The clarion of nocturnal and diurnal

voices sing: “Arise  April’s muse of folly!”.

The first point of Aries fires the soils;

And the crownings of purple-yellow crocus.

Serendipity shall dance her fertile favors

upon lachrymose skies - to rain; rain; rain

and fill the streams of supple; flow tangible the rivers;

for a fool is never too far from dreams of Spring.

That love and love of love shall seed

the dormant and vacuous gardens

that his one true yellow flower

becomes a love bouquet for April’s fools.