"It was 6 or 7 years ago
Or so I'd like to think
I traveled to my eye doctor..
(I should'a seen a "shrink"!!)
My dad and I we awaited
In a filled up waiting room
Patients all a'seat
Magazines all askew
There wasn't much to say there
There wasn't much to do...
Slowly I did notice
Some odd glances made at me...
Some hand-covered conversations...
Some smirks I seemed to see
It made me feel self-conscious
They seemed fixed looking at me in my seat
When slowly I did realize...
That they were staring at my feet...
I looked down, and to my horror
And much to my surprise...
A sight I could not fathom...
I could not believe my eyes!!!
For one foot was well fitted
with tennis sneaker white...
The other a black dress shoe
It was a startling sight!!!
Now I found how hard it was
to hide one's mismatched feet
I wished to God to run out
And escape onto the street
I was red with great embarrassment
and shocked how stupid I could be!
Had I been that darn sleepy?
Or could I just not see?
Then it slowly dawned on me,
Well, darn it, here I sit....
Proves I need an eye-doctor...
and I don't give a sh__......."
I do not know?
I have a wandering mind
my lines as I draw them
over the grid as I steer them
I veer them
perspectives I see
when I peer them...
in the dots as I hear them
A gentle Awe
the sound of pause
soft claw.ing sings from my pen
when the lines are drawn
and my mind goes wandering...
My artful perception.
56 signed.The Declaration...
JESTER *''(] :-)
The best days come round and round
Follow the around the world
A Jester you are the crown
A Jester among the crowd
Searching for life from pole to pole!
A professional when it comes to clown
You got the soul to let it roll
Your too clever to hold a frown
Your parole has lost your control
A smile is all you know how to expand
You run - you play - you dance
Implanting a moment, so grand
Lifting the spirit with just one glance.
You are like a substance in high demand
You are the Queen to a blind romance
You stole the heart of a Nobel man
Jester we are at the feet of your command
Parted from the King, who does not understand
The crowd eating from the palm of your hand
No one knows what jokes you got planned
LADY QUEEN YOU HOLD THE SOUL OF A JESTER
Suited up in pinkish - purple - green polyester
Everyone bowing to you where you stand
Excitement towards the Queen, who plays the Jester
Jerking the kingdom of her land
Jester you play the role of the best mind molester!!
My car is equipped with maps and a GPS
With a great fear of getting lost I am obsessed
Men seem to have a different navigation system
Asking for directions is too far beneath them
Tony and I embarked on a cross-country tour
Didn’t start out that way, just took multiple detours
Tony didn’t like the GPS talking voice
Rather than listen, he turned it off by choice
Each time we stopped for gas, I wanted to seek help
But if I approached someone, Tony’d let out a yelp
The White Mountains should have been a hundred-mile drive
With two days on the road, I thought I’d not survive
“Turn right now, make a left, heck just keep going straight”
Commands from the King of the Road did not abate
But it wasn’t until we saw the first palm tree
That I’d had my fill and let out an urgent plea
“Huh,” he replied, “guess YOU drove just a bit off course
Those Canadians will want to see our passports”
“That’s the Mexican border patrol up ahead!”
I screeched, turned around and away I quickly sped
*For Francine's "Whatever You Say, Dear" Contest
There was no finer detective than Inspector Thaddeus Tweede of Scotland Yard!
He was most astute in solving crimes and could quickly detect a fake canard!
He joined the force as a 'bobby' working himself to the peak of his profession.
You daren't pull the wool over his eyes when he was seeking a confession!
Ah! He could have been cast in a movie since he was a detective's prototype,
In his tweed suit, tweed cape, tweed deerstalker's cap and ever-present pipe!
When investigating crime scenes he'd mull the facts with his chin in his hand,
Puffing his pipe making copious notes should he be called to the witness stand!
The highlight of his career was solving the case of Prime Minister Percival Hoar,
Who was found by his maid one dark and stormy night sprawled upon the floor!
There was no evidence of forceful entry or anyone breaking through the door,
Nor was there any sign of a struggle, bullet holes or oozing, bloody gore!
Who could have done this dastardly deed that brought the minister to his doom?
He took prints, photos and noted a strange odor as he moved about the room.
Thaddeus called on all his experience and training to solve this mysterious case,
Muttering to himself and doing a lot of 'hmming' as to and fro he did pace!
Eureka! He noted a bulge in the prime minister's jacket he hadn't noticed before!
Gingerly lifting a bottle from the pocket he deduced he needn't search anymore.
It wasn't a gun, the butler, jilted lover, political enemy or an envious friend
That did the terrible deed - 'twas demon rum that brought the minister to his end!
Placed No. 6 in Soup's International Contest - Feb 2012 ($25 + Certificate)
"Sedimentary, my dear Watson."
Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust
for things start to be.
Here's something I have been wondering
For so very long
If Adam and Eve wore only figs leaves
How did they keep them on
It couldn't have been a rubber band
And certainly not super glue
I just really have no idea
Do you have a clue
What did they do in the winter
When fig trees are bare
One leaf wouldn't last all year
I think there's a mystery there
If only Eve hadn't eaten that apple
If only Adam hadn't taken a bite
I wouldn't be trying to solve this
And I'd sleep better at night
Hurriedly, silently, in purposeful fluid movements
and long, determined strides, he dashed among
the thickets, bending and darting amidst the vines
searching for a perfect little place to stay and hide.
Stealthily and noiselessly he slithered underneath
lush, leafy overhangs shielding him from the sun -
keen, cautious, like a crouching, hungry predator
anxious not to draw unwanted attention to himself.
The birds on treetops hushed their singing in haste
as the woods turned suddenly still - frozen in place,
shocked, stunned and unprepared to bear witness
to the mysterious man’s strange, diabolical scheme.
He threw a quick look to his left and another to the right
then jerked, turning his head around to make doubly sure
that no human soul finds him in this quiet, secluded place
about to carry out his dark, sinister and unplanned crime.
Taking a deep, measured breath and now totally reassured
of being truly alone, away from prying eyes to a gory crime,
in his madness he violently yanked down his old Levi jeans,
squatted to the ground, grimacing, and…ahh, sweet release!
I had a dream
Where all my clothes
Were in my toilet bowl
Apparently this means that
I am drenched in emotions
Which need to be released
So I wrote
Rolling through a bloody mess,
my master died alone no less.
His mercy was indeed a lie,
he said I lived but now will die.
His hand was swift with a mighty stroke,
within a thought my life was broke.
Oh how I lived, and he knew not,
but now I lay...my life to rot.
No foot, nor hand could move a limb,
Three days old and no sign of him.
And then he came at my wits end,
With strength alone I cant defend.
He lift me up and broke my jaw,
Just to laugh as I hit the floor.
He took a blade and made a fist,
stabbed his flesh, his vein, his wrist.
Now you're dead and now you're mine,
drink from me and you'll be fine.
I could not stand my masters site,
I killed him quick with my own bite.
Extraordinary, I am
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding the gift I shouldn't fought
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
The food of my soul
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart
I am looking right at you and you don’t even know it.
I will deter your intent and throw you off a steep cliff.
But in the air will be my snuff and gruff you can sniff.
Eventually I will have some sort of mercy of just a bit.
Surely we are above empowering manners of tat for tit.
Maybe I’ll light a scented candle and blow you my whiff.
Or maybe I will strand you grounding your bones to stiff.
Opposed or decomposed and still composed I won’t quit.
Inside or out,
I’ll throw down.
I am the clout.
Don’t mistake my identity,
Either or, it’s your eternity.
® Registered: Ann Rich 2009
Something catches me form the corner of my eye
No one's home but I swear someone just walked by
There stands a man just beyond the lower stairs
Startled yet I'm not afraid as he looks at me and stares
I wonder who this presence is who's invading my home
He moves shooting a glance at me and proceeds to roam
Who's this strange man in the shadows Is he watching over me
Is there someone else he might be here to see
Once in a while he shows up to let me know he's here
I wonder if he visits to see someone he holds dear
Is he just letting me know we are not alone
Is he lost and wandering trying to find his way home
This presence some may call a ghost who visits me
My grandson calls him Jack as he can also see
The ghostly presence shows himself just once in a while
When he chooses to drop by he always makes me smile
In England’s pleasant pastures amid the free wild flowers
Lie pagan ways the wise ones do not mock
And one adept at harnessing these ancient rural powers
Was Oggwool Fleece, the black sheep of the flock
Oggwool was old, much older than the old oak it was said
Beneath whose boughs the dark sheep’s plans are sealed
‘Twas said the sheep had come back from the other side of dead
With the darkness in that corner of the field.
The farm hands better knew to venture in the oak’s strange shade
Or to the long grass that the darkness gripped
Where Oggwool lurked amid the spells and potions he had made
A sheep unshorn and magically undipped.
Not limited by four hooves in working his deft skill
Unhindered in ambitious sheepish plans
Harnessing the dark elves to do his dark sheep will
Dexterously with little dark elf hands.
From that darkened corner of that English country field
His influence extends itself outside
His arcane woolly web through which his mystic powers wield
Reaching parts and persons spread worldwide
He has extensive vineyards in Italy and Spain,
He has mining operations in Peru
He owns a flock of ostriches down in the Ukraine
(Although he never quite intended to)
He’s engineering world events on scales beyond the ken
He has his hooves in business of all kinds
He interferes remorselessly in world affairs of men
With night-time thoughts drip-fed to human minds
Little green men fly through space in saucers flat and round
On interstellar missions without cease
But on their furthest journey yet, their enterprise is bound
To the ever growing plans of Oggwool Fleece
The politicians spin their words and armies shoulder arms
And yet do not beyond their small acts see
But Oggwool Fleece with thistle skills and other sheepwise charms
Is planning how to rule a galaxy!
I do not know?
Numerous trips to Disneyland in childhood?
Now part of me,
Shake him off?
Gave up long ago.
My face is lifted in warped muse,
Where did that all come from?
Blame it on the Tucson breeze of carrying silly sand spells,
Only to be caught right between my mind's eyes.
Like the Los Angeles traffic is not enough writing over the edge.
What Heaven will do to bring smiling moments through friends.
Than out of the clear blue sky of nowhere,
Little child mentor,
Never heard nor read,
Joan from France,
Beauty of heroism.
Who am I to be blessed in your taunting loveliness?
Walking the voyage from the dark corridor of history,
Never picked up one of your books,
No desire of reading.
Seen in movies,
Close as I came.
Tell me Shakespeare,
How do you manage,
How big is my floppy disk brain anyway?
You walked in my life,
You carried the key,
Pen to write to release,
All I am in life,
And what is seen by the eyes.
It could be worst,
One channel of Reality Thinking,
Caught up in this world in my head,
Now I am awake!
I am blessed!
As I laugh,
I dare not asks what makes you tick in the poetry writing-
Here on the Soup Web,
I have a head-full already.
P.S. Having fun and letting it all grow wings and fly-
Mystery, what makes a person up to live life to the fullness?
A true story.
Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime
Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.
Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!
Of course, my stuffy boss
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....
Big shot, Big City....
It wasn't pretty....
The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!
So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!
Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp
In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...
But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!
I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!
I was struggling,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...
These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...
My boss's eyes swollen
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"
Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...
In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....
Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
(This is true!!!)
the saucers I've waited for...
It's hard to believe...
we've waited so long!
with a sense of wonder,
and a sense of joy...
at their arrival....
oh boy!...oh boy!...
yes, this seems to be
a red-letter day..
I'm left with only...
one more thing to say...
when, just when,
will we wait,
till kittens turn to pups,?
do you think I might expect...
to get the matching cups!...
I wonder if I'm crazy,
It seems as though I am
I'm puzzled by so many things
Like what makes grape jelly
different from grape jam?
Or how anyone could have such low self-esteem,
To let their dumb commercials run
Are we to follow the dinosaurs?
And disappear beneath the sun?
Or how I could be so brain-dead
To find in my refrig,
Some food from the time
of the reign of Ramses,
How could I be so dumb?
The very thought, it scares me,
Makes my mind go numb.
Everything I buy or own,
I seem to lose real quick,
Is there a brain tumor inside me?
Or am I just mentally sick?
Too caught up in great thoughts?
Or just too gosh darn thick?
Sometimes I I find I wander
Into a room, and can't remember why
Is this for people normal?
Or did my brain just fry?
I guess there's no good reason,
To worry about things like this,
Sometimes your brain's on target
Sometimes it just can't help but miss.
it doesn't take a lot
to make some people happy
a midnight snack of goodies
with that, oh so sweet, cold milk
could be Malomars,Fig Newtons,
or those yummy chocolate covered
just a small sampling of how
sometimes these small wonders
help us deal with bigger things...
my favorite is the milk, perhaps with
a Pepperidge Farm cookie too...
oh, the Gods were so generous
when they created such as these anew,
sometimes I barely remember
the late evening goodie raid
it's the tell-tale chocolate stains
on my pillow, or sheets where I had laid
that brings it back to me
the price that now must be paid
laundry a day earlier than planned,
another diet quickly canned,
how come I can't stand
the thought of my choclate covered hand
so tonight I hope I strand...
those devilishly delicious treats grand
should I tie myself to the bed?
and let an elf get them for me instead?
all right, this sweet talk is now done
say, I wonder about that bear-claw bun......
I do not know?
'Love is patient'
'Love is kind'
The thought of love
Can turn you blind.
But... Now we must
Take some steps
To verify those
The first problem you see
Was that. . .
He lied about
You being fat
That in turn
Led ya to
He 'accepted' you.
Mirrors were made
For a darn good reason
And thinking you are nothing special
Is high, high treason...
And no! He's kind
You've lost your mind.
The recipe to love Is that
You have to love your self.
It's not about your facial features
Or the size of ya belt.
The man should be a rock to lean on
And not! A heartless swine.
So please next time. Do pick him wisely
Make sure he has a spine!
Let’s hve haggis and drinks mi luve
Find de bes ina de ole land
Lay yu head on mi chest mi luve
Whilst wi dance musik wid de band
Dance wid de band in de Highlands
Backyard jig good fer de ole soul
Tickle mi nose with yu gold locks
Tigether wi bade ead to toe’s sole
Call Fionn mi Luve with his jug
Nice poems he read at de gate
Summon the Clooties with a mug
Aye, they will cum and bles dis date
We’ll sail de river on Loch Ness
Kelpies will protect our flanks
Goddess Scotia says we bless
Oh mi chamin' sweet Sidhe, tanks
Aye! Mi sweet luve; Boobrie will fly
He will fetch up the Salmon Ring
And a knot cross de land we tye
Red Caps our guard til cum de spring
Then wid haggis and drinks mi luve
Goddesses'pipes blow dem great songs
In the grey mist we skip and dance
Then like Boobrie we fly with doves
Scottish Mythical Legends:
1. Fionn is a Scottish magician, warrior and poet
2. Clootie is a Scottish name for the devil. The name originated from the word cloot, which
mean a division in the cleft hoof of an animal.
3. Kelpie is a Scottish water devil who lurks in lakes and rivers and drowns its victims.
4. Scotia is a goddess normally portrayed as an old hag with the tusks of a wild boar
5. Sidhe (Shee) is the Gaelic name for fairies in the Highlands of Scotland and also Ireland.
6. Boodrie is a wonderful water-bird from the Highlands. It haunts and protects the lakes
7. Red Cap is a sort of short, stocky old guy with long gray hair and claws instead of hands
and fingers. He lives on the Scottish border and guard the ancient ruins of castles
The taste of homemade Carmel so sweet/ everyone I know desires the treat.
After one night in the kitchen covered/ half the pan gone, next morning discovered.
Is it my beagle Lily whom loves any food? / she seems in a hyper beagle mood.
I know I heard a squeak in the night / a dream ? No, for low was the kitchen light.
T'was my husband, for he can't resist/ soft , buttered brown sugar , a Vanilla twist.
Changed climate is not a surprise
With drilling for gas on the rise
Where can life forms hide
From carbon dioxide
And methane let loose in the skies?
Neo-druids auger gas wells
And add fluids with sulfurous smells!
Are poisons they've tapped
With their magic wands trapped
Evermore by sorcerous spells?
Votes and news seem not relevant
The unrelenting elephant
In all our best rooms
Is fossil fuel's fumes
And toxins we can't circumvent
Mothman ate your clothes?
No way; too big for dressers
—mus’be his baby cuz!
Bigfoot had a bubbling baby brother—
They labeled him "lively little foot!"
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?
Secret Identity, covered face
and my thoughts begin to drain
I wander who the real Batman is
Is his name really Bruce Wayne?
His real ID kept secret
So we should recieve
All possibilities of who he could be,
Including ones we don't perceive
So now we have a Mystery
Let's put Batman on a brim
Bruce Wayne is his "secret secret" ID
Batman, for real, is Alder Rim
Like smoke, the years accrue and vanish
Still, I am a mystery unto myself!
A crowded table, all suspended in shock
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman
SANTA KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!