Daily Poem 16: Flummery

Her words dissolved: reduced to flummery entwined with steady strums

Of her four favourite chords, distracting me from showing any tact.

 

This play with internal rhyme is about falling in love with musicians.  If you’ve ever watched someone singing while playing a musical instrument and have, in that moment, been completely overwhelmed to the point that you’re not even listening to the words, you’ll understand.

flummery

\FLUHM-uh-ree\ , noun;

1. A name given to various sweet dishes made with milk, eggs, flour, etc.
2. Empty compliment; unsubstantial talk or writing; mumbo jumbo; nonsense.
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About writewithlightning

I'm a published Canadian poet and fiction writer, posting haiku daily @writelightning on most social media sites. Please like and comment so that I know you're reading. It means a lot to me! View all posts by writewithlightning

One response to “Daily Poem 16: Flummery

  • 105

    first of all, i think that furry creature in the picture is really cute. (oh, and i suppose the little dog is cute too.)

    and second, happy holidays and a happy new year to everyone! here’s a little poem about my thoughts of the end of this year and the approach of the new one.

    ***

    “Tempo of the New Year”

    Flummery dissolves in belly and air
    This time of year held ever sacred dear,
    Yet the New Year shambles past all the cheer;
    For this trek of Time I did not prepare.
    The pastries and sweetmeats enlarged my girth,
    And abundant liquors I have disgorged
    From a face of increasing wrinkles forged:
    For thus we celebrate the Saviour’s birth.
    Yes, a bacchanalia into winter’s claws
    Then slumbering sombrely until Nature thaws.

    Such thoughts haunt me beneath my lover’s arm;
    But smiling bright, he kisses my brow
    And draws me closer, our love I avow,
    Cuddling away my frivolous alarm;
    I fear no more serving ‘neath winter’s thumb
    Or lamenting the passing year’s glories
    As the next will add volumes of stories,
    For thus to life’s chills I shall not succumb.
    Beneath my quilts, to him I am lovingly drawn
    And hear the footsteps of Time as his heart beats on.

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