Three poems by Annie Diamond

Three poems
by Annie Diamond

a debacle of the vernacular

i rather like the word
fiasco.
you like the word fiasco? what word fiasco?
what do you mean? i like the word fiasco!
a word fiasco? like a verbal disaster?
a debacle of the vernacular? a
distressing situation involving the english language?
what kind of person would think to enjoy a
language calamity?
well, i suppose this is a language calamity,
and i am quite enjoying myself.
jesus, you take everything so lite rally. that’s
the problem with you poets.

++++++++++++++++++++

sleeping in socks

sleeping in my socks: a rare,
almost scientific occurrence
perhaps solely explainable by
my fierce concentration
upon this new, beautiful being
and complete disregard for
all things regular, shedding
my usual stoicism for
a perpetually foolish smile.

=====================

mutiny

we let fly with formulas and theorems
slurring the ancient tongues of euclid and
pythagoras into a heady shout of battle.
our arrows are taut with number lines,
compasses drawn, protractor blades flashing.< /o:p>
cartesian planes swoop overhead,
overseeing the warfare in calculated silence
as we count the dead in imaginary numbers.

Author bio:

Annie Diamond is a heretofore unpublished poet residing in Wilton, Connecticut. She blogs at Annie Diamond about fashion, Paris, sewing, Oscar Wilde, and anything else that appeals to her.