Sugar in a Glass

"Sugar in a Glass"

My head is aswim with dreams.
They swirl and swirl like sugar in a glass.
How they swirl around
Go up and down
Three dimensions, four, five,
And then the colors come alive!
How am I to speak?

My head is aswim with dreams.
I feel the need to speak, to sing
But never to move my lips.

Heavy eyes in silence.
Lacrimation held at bay.
Save them for another day.
Something else is in the way:

I cannot be alone.
One cannot recycle and evolve.
The twain shall never meet.
Three new faces: yours and mine,
And one we won’t admit to sharing.

The swirling cyclone calms.
Still I write this perfect psalm
Emerging from the dank morass.
Sweet like sugar in a glass.

©2009 David Dynes.

Paul Had a Possum

English class exercise. Sensory paragraph about an unusual pet. Got away with not having to read it in class (lol) but here it is:

"Paul Had a Possum"

Paul had a possum with a purulent pimple. It ate with the fervor so carnal and simple, devouring the pizza but forsaking the taste. The smell of the sausage was filling the place, and Paul became so hungry that he confiscated the pizza from the malnourished marsupial. Paul's possum let out a vociferous screech, and leapt out at Paul with a furious reach of his razor-sharp claws! This is so crucial because Paul contracted rabies, foamed at the mouth and bit both his babies and his beautiful wife, thus ending their lives. Paul's family now is deceased.

EN211 Exercise #1: Five Senses

Assignment: to write a paragraph describing my favourite and least favourite body part, incorporating all five senses.

The Elixir Savors of Salt and Sugar

The elixir savors of salt and sugar, as electricity tickles the tongue in time with the flicker of her irises. I behold her azure eyes, mesmerized by her shrewdest of gazes, as if she were an owl high in the boughs of the mightiest oak, observing in detail the snowy woodlands below: seeming not only to see the trees themselves, but seeing through the opacity of the bark, the xylem, the phloem, and the random smokescreen of distant twigs, debris and falling snow, sadistically watching the rabbits and deer ravage in fear of starvation! The famished doe bites at the bark of the birch, rank with the scent of her suitors, exposing the naked wooden flesh to the harshest of elements, incognizant of its lifeblood chilling to a crawl – lo, that perfect elixir of salt and sugar, streaming as a tear down her soft alabaster cheeks, their smooth surfaces disrupted by the texture of the frigid air. Through the steam of her breath we behold one another, our gazes suspended in time. As the mystical potion sublimates on my tongue, ions sparkle across my taste buds, and I finally comprehend that which I love most about her: the wonderful mind behind her eyes.

The Hue of Ham

I slouched on the couch a moment ago, my hands clasped tightly against my face. I hardly but notice the ache anymore, it seems; every time I eat, however, the dull aching drenches my mandible. Each joint in my bones crackles and creaks as would a wooden door whose hinges haven’t been oiled since Millard Filmore knew nothing. In a vain attempt to distract myself from my anguishing fangs and the deafening song of their sorrow, I bite at my flesh with the crags that remain of what once were my molars. Years of enduring this have taken their toll, and my pink fleshy jowls are littered with keloids: I try and I try, but they just won’t bleed! How I lust for the tang and the rust of the taste of that beautiful crimson charm! In defeat I close my eyes, donning the rose-colored shades of pain. The soulless white glow of the laptop is further reduced to the numbest of pinks, a color the hue of ham. The somatic sensations pulse to the rhythm of my palpitating heart: the lone standing drummer asserting himself in the cacophony splitting my ears. Life goes on so I open my eyes: though I am wont to forgo, I am forced to forget.