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Social Places Poems | Social Poems About Places

These Social Places poems are examples of Social poems about Places. These are the best examples of Social Places poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Limerick | |

Viagra Falls

There once was a man from Niagara
whose wiener's so long it would stab ya'

but when it got little 
his pills became skittles   
until he O.D.'d on Viagra

© ~JSLambert  2011*****A classic "stiff" competitor, standing "firm" amongst other "members" in the "thick" of the competition:) hope everyone gets "a rise" out of it!


Details | Rhyme | |

The Man in the Wilderness

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam

Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind

I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be

For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home

So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php


Details | Couplet | |

Whilst the Clock Ticks

Whilst the clock ticks, appear memories of her past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Would it be the one from old, or the one from her recent past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Many words were shared, to the future forget the past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Whilst the clock ticks, reality now met her past For three faces she owned, it's the older one that lasts *~*


Details | Quatrain | |

The Owl and the PusyCat Sail

Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.

The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.

Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.



Details | I do not know? | |

Borders In The Borderless Society

Waft borderless borders;
within;

  The dividing line that separates the free
    and the slaves;

      where strangers come and go
          but the cage is never lifted.


                Where sticks and stones travel farther,
                and idle remains your soul possession;


                pocketed,
                dispossessed
                and disenfranchised.


Standing frozen in the temporal sea,
while global earth spins yonder;
giving birth to a global movement;
devoid of you,
where the shining guards of globalism obstruct your path
and the cage is never lifted.

apartheid in an open prison,
borders without a border,
where freedom is ill defined
and internal struggle
links the spider web without a spider to keep it.


Details | Rhyme | |

THE HIDDEN GOODNESS OF KIND SOULS

I didn't want anyone
to have a sad Christmas,
so I roamed Manhattan's star-decorated streets,
where many a homeless weeps...
where was I to find that someone,
if not in that corner where a barrel fire was?


By God's grace, I found that unhappy person in ragged clothes
to give my four presents to,
ending the drama of his woe
by bringing coat, shoes, gloves and a long scarf
to erase the misery of a beggar whose cold night was rough;
he widely smiled when I leaned forward and offered him my gifts!


Bewildered folks wearing the latest fashion attire, did not have
the decency of stooping down and give him a single quarter,
and doing so they killed the Christmas' spirit entirely...
a generous spirit well-known in this city;  yes, my anger
could have made me lash out at them with indignation,
but realizing how greedy people can be withholding love:
I gasped in relief to discover a creche of our Savior so cheery 
along the festive Fifth Avenue to get rid of my frustration!


What I found there was a Heaven-inspired sight
of gleaming angel's hovering the stable announcing Christ's glorious birth... 
while beneath bang-pipers and trumpets players, glowing with mirth, 
accompanied the youngest choir singing, "Holy Night."
Perhaps venturing out in the cold of the wealthiest city,
gave me the opportunity to realize the hidden goodness of kind souls
that give away their humble presents in various forms,
not expecting anything in return...but rejoice in the delightful sound of harmony.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Burned

Hiss, Hiss, Snap goes the lighter
And he walks ahead
Just like a fighter
Click, Click, kaching goes the money
And he leaves with his poison
Why am I laughing? This isn't funny
But I can't help but laugh, laugh, laugh
My face hurts
My mind is starting to drift
And boom! Something bursts
I'm the boss of me
And I'm not so right
What do I do
I'm losing my own fight
Who is this?
This isn't me
I can't believe what I see
Hiss, hiss, snap goes the lighter
And he passes it round
Down, down, down, goes the fighter
We all make a sound
Crash, crash, crash
We are heading
Burn, burn, burn, we are burning
But, no one is learning
What did I do?
What was I thinking?
I can't believe I wanted to
I'm the boss of me
And I'm not so right
What do I do?
When I let myself lose sight
Who is this?
Who is she?
What did I do?
Is this me?


Details | Rhyme | |

Where is the Bathroom?

I had to find a bathroom,
A reasonable request,
I was all alone
And my bladder was quite stressed.

So I asked a man nearby,
“Do you know where a bathroom is?”
He merely shook his head,
And went about his biz.

I continued walking,
And sure enough around,
A woman with her children
Could tell me where a bathroom’s found.

She said, “I have no idea,
I’m busy you can tell.”
She fussed to shush her baby,
Who had just begun to yell.

I continued on my quest,
Moving with rapid stride,
When I found a large restaurant,
Surely, there must be a bathroom inside!

I went up to the waiter,
I said, “I really have to pee.”
Slightly irritated,
I decided to forego all pleasantry.

He said, “Oh, ours isn’t working,
Someone clogged it the day before,
But there is one a few blocks down,
About three or four.”

And so I hurried along,
Quite desperate to find the joint,
My bladder was close to reaching
Its natural breaking point.

I reached a tiny gas station,
Where the clerk mumbled to me,
“We do have an outside bathroom,
But someone lost the key.”

I turned and stomped outside,
I wailed out vehemently,
“How hard is it to find a bathroom
In modern society?”

A gentleman heard my plight,
And said, “You know, there’s a store—“
I interrupted, “Never mind,
I don’t have to go anymore.”


Details | Rhyme | |

Pulp

Pretty soon, night will fall upon the city,
And lives of crime animate spasmodically
As Gene Pitney croons “A Town Without Pity”
And the clubs and the gin joints open methodically.

Hepcat jazzmen smoke reefers, shoot junk,
The pimps clean their nails with switchblades laconically,
Fedoras pulled low as they mind-jive to funk,
And the neon lights crackle and buzz electronically,

Breast enhanced blondes catch the eyes of their johns,
Pouting and winking, the sale of depravity,
For a price any vice can be practiced upon
The surface of flesh, any crevice or cavity.

Cops pound the beat twirling nightsticks around,
Turning blind eyes for a bribe taken willingly,
Failure to pay brings the world crashing down,
“It just ain’t your day,” the cops whisper chillingly.

Wiseguys hold court in an old pizzeria,
Smoking and drinking and eating the scenery
Their empire of family governed through fear,
The rule of the gun and Sicilian ancestry.

Corporate needles pierce veins of the damned,
Chalk drawings map lines around death’s ideology
Cigarettes sparked and the siren howls slammed
Through the meanest of streets of pulp fiction mythology.    

In the world of the scribe, this pulp writer hack
May exaggerate slightly for sake of the narrative,
Yet film noir seems grey when reality’s black,
At the end of the day everything is comparative.


Details | Blank verse | |

America's Best

I fear it will never end.
I know the impact will ne’er fade
and
       the pain is slow to abate.

Dear God, may I never grow weary of
      having 'seen it all.'



Dedicated to the bravery and commitment of our soldiers around the world.  We cannot possibly 
deserve the sacrifices you make for us.  Thank you from my soul.


Details | Couplet | |

When the air becomes visible - rainbows

The sky on days become too full
And gravity will start to pull
And capture every bubble frame
While popping corks off rich champagne
The trees will fool and start to dance
And still the time on every branch
With baron shrine and fruits to bare
The wind that strokes and blows through hair 
On top-down journeys come to pause
And settle howls with loud applause
Before acceding way too fast
They leave a trail that sprouts from past
Of flitter flatters in delight
And pitter patters out of sight
Extending dreams as arms beseech
To touch the always out of reach
Parting ways, they kiss goodnight
Before the lips close way too tight
The watermarks miraged for miles
With poppy sighs and angel smiles
A substance of the rarest rare
The healing voice of hearts that care
The silver clouds left in its wake
Remain untouched for heaven’s sake
It can’t be met from anywhere
But viewed to share the secret stare
and ponder why it’s so reborn
Transparent in its naked form  
It paints the sky with gold perhaps
For all to drink from natures tap
The air contains the future’s plot
Seen at times, at others not 
It’s written in the stars you see
Eclipsed by mind and soul-ar key
Failure amidst surrounds of air
That doesn’t mean love isn’t there


Details | Ballade | |

In the Stillness

Along a forest path that few can see,
   Just as the sun is setting in the West,
With owls and ancient oaks for company,
   I wander in my solitary quest.
In shadowed dusk the world is at her best --
   When lacy lichen clings to cooling stone --
The feathered robin turns toward her nest,
   And in the stillness I am all alone.

There is within these woods an ancient tree
   Whose roots provide a peaceful place to rest;
Like gentle fingers, they encircle me
   When by my thoughts I am too much oppressed.
Then I am of a sudden joy possessed,
   Which I claim quickly for my very own;
I feel the love of Life within my breast,
   And in the stillness I am all alone.

And in that place, I ponder silently --
   Admire the tiny toadstools neatly dressed
In spots and colors, sitting quietly,
   And cannot help but by them be impressed.
The rights of others they do not contest,
   Nor under worthless burdens grieve or groan;
I understand their tiny lives are blest,
   And in the stillness I am all alone.

So when dark doubts and fears have reached a crest,
   And deep despair has pierced me to the bone,
I find that path and grant my heart's request;
   And in the stillness I am all alone.


Details | Verse | |

And You Will Know Me By The Trail Of Dead

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the whistle of wind in cutthroat pipes,
the jolly japes and spring heeled capers
in the sepia pulp of the Sunday papers
and in all the Jack Tar bilge in your head,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead
the gory tales of bright crimson stripes.
the intestinal spool of viscera and gutting,
the slashing swipe of steel blades cutting,
and the opening wounds awash with red,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the love-a-duck and strike-me-blind,
the dear boss letters and cunning stunts,
the hunter or hunted in Whitechapel hunts,
and the feverish sweats in every bed,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the buckle-my-shoe and daily grind,
the Juwes and gin and pea soup nights,
the whore flesh slaughter and ghastly sights,
and the legends of all I did and said,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.


Details | Senryu | |

Car Wash Line

Car wash running hot
Backed up around the next block
Car in front just clunked


Details | Quatrain | |

TO SHAKESPEARE WITH ADMIRATION

He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.    


Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears, 
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!


I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!     


I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father; 
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?


He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!    


Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep; 
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!  


Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "


Details | Romanticism | |

Bittersweet Memories

Walks around the lake are bittersweet memories
that leave tears in my eyes
tears in my eyes
I remember the way your hand felt in mine
how the world seemed fine
yeah
the world was mine
I remember staring into your eyes
knowing that you would always be there
My mind is full of these bittersweet memories
leaving tears in my eyes
tears in my eyes
I remember when I could make you smile
yeah
when I could make it all worthwhile 
I remember when I was all you needed
yeah
when no one else would do
We used to waste nights away
talking about anything and everything
sometimes even nothing at all
I’m choking up with every thought of you
as these bittersweet memories are leaving tears in my eyes
tears in my eyes


Details | Verse | |

In State

Barefoot on the paving slab chill, concrete
feet feel frostbite emanations in their callused souls;
rooftop mystique clamours silent slate triangles,
perched the stray cat observers, red-eyes smoking coals.
Down to the river's edge where swaying reeds
feed mongrel contemplations with moist whispered words;
rusty oil-slicked surfaces lick the muddy banks,
karma sutra assassins are the predatory birds.

Fixated upon a frozen traffic system, bolt-locked,
dumb-shocked by electric one way streets to dead ends;
barstool poets weep sleep-sozzled cabbage tears
for the closing-time tragedy of long-time absent friends.
Drunkards shamble on beer-stained coliseum floors, grumble,
mumble incomprehensible diatribes into thin air;
the memorial park benches flake skin and rot within,
white spirits rape the dreams that anyone should care.

Deserted boardwalks spool a crooked travel,
unravel with myopic glint and blink, cat's eyes dying, died,
and the desolated song from night's deflated lung
hums doggerel consolation with no meaning left inside.
Illegitimate offspring of fatherless daughters and sons,
buns in sceptic ovens, burnt baked black offerings;
sacrifices on toilet stall altars, to lie in state
no more than ether, aborted ghosts, empty superfluous things.

Saviours ride no pale horses, immaculate white stallions,
galleons never sail to where the sun pristinely sets,
for the purpose of this life resides in its conclusion,
deserve has nothing to do with it and nothing is all it begets


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Rhyme | |

What Is This Church All About

What Is This Church All About?

Is this church meant for people like me?
Is this where God really wants me to be?

They claim to be filled with God’s spirit.
When it comes to HIS truth...  Can they give it?

I’m sure there’s many who come and attend
It’s more than “church on Sunday,” that we must spend!

We must reach out to the lost and the oppressed!
After all, Christ gave us his very best!

May we all preach the gospel and God’s holiness!
And strive to seek his awesome righteousness!

Living for Jesus must be a daily walk and experience!
Not simply based on our “ambitious self appearance.”

God isn’t interested in a denomination or a title…
He wants to know…  Do we really believe the Bible?

He’s not interested in the money put in the offering plate.
He wants to know; “Are you ready
 to enter heaven’s gate?”

May we strive to serve Jesus with a zeal and passion!
And be filled with his holiness and compassion!

May we serve Jesus from a heart of humbled confession!
And making our commitment to him,
 our #1 possession!

“Unless the Lord builds the house.”  
They labor in vain that build it!
Let’s seek the power of God! 
May his presence completely fill it!!

By Jim Pemberton    


Details | Free verse | |

My Love---a very special original Japanese poem

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Burlesque | |

Redneck FATHER'S DAY------

***NOTE~TO BE READ WITH A RIDICULOUS "SILKY SOUTHERN DRAWL" (have fun:)***



"Storm over yet...?"

"Well hay'ell ye'ah! 
 woo-hoo!
 sum'body git me a da'gumm cole beer.
 whadda'bou  that boy th'er?
 sum'body git him'a cole beer too!"

"Diddy! that boy ain't nothin' but 8 years old!"

"Wha'choo sayin? 
 wha'th'a?
 na'I don't give a jolly'durn, if he ain't nuttin but 8 year'owed!
 shoot! 
 'dat boy dun' sat him thr'ew a big ol', storm! 
 torna'durr warnin' too!
 he gonna have him'a cole burr;  
 on me!"
 my treat!
 mama, git him'a cole burr! 
 ro'tt now; 
 ya'here?
 besides...
 ta'days father's day!" 



© 2011  ~JSLambert Esquire

   










Details | Rhyme | |

Why all this Destructions

Why all this Destructions? – Zamreen Zarook

God created this whole universe for the mankind,
He gave everything lavishly, thinking that we might be kind,
Even though people are able, they seems to be blind,
Whereas people failed to mind.

The sky which was created for the man started to scream and cry,
Since good morals and ethics were decry,
The fire started to do the mimicry,
As the water lands cannot bear, it came to man with a battle cry.

Land couldn't hold and it started to gorge,
Fresh air merged with chemicals and started to urge,
Whatever created for the man have started to over charged,
Stop evil and let the merits be enlarged.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus to Iran

In Iran they march
"Where" they ask "is my vote gone?"
Answered by truncheon

God, Allah, they call
In His name, holy, oppress
Gods weakest children

Other news shall show
Western television screens
But we wont forget

Hundreds dead now
We only know one name, one face
A prayer for them say


Details | Free verse | |

Shantytown

Rising sun out of the east,
Falls on the early morning on Riverside,
A shantytown just yonder of Laiser Hill,
A posh estate under Ngong Hills, 
And there on shanty Riverside,
They wake up like they always do,
It is another day that may brim with trouble,
Still it is another day nonetheless,
And so they hurry along like they always do,
They might earn a dollar or less today,
And just barely feed the little mouths tonight,
But at high noon high the little mouths will wait,
Maybe the noon high will go down easy today,
Let their hungry tongues patiently wait,
Till Mummy, maybe Daddy comes home,
With that dollar or less for tonight, 
If not it will be just like like last night, 
Little tummies grumbling in the night,
Little limbs trembling in the cold,
That is life in shantytown.


Details | Haiku | |

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::Heaven's Ghetto::::::::::::


slip n' slide white moon space cadets glide in the shine illustrious orb
~JSLaM


Details | Tanka | |

The Virtuous White Rose

--**--The Virtuous White Rose--**--

White rose is holy
Matrimony pureness of
Bond between lovers.
Blessing  to Old Rome deceased’s
Chastity and innocence.

White Rose in myth and
Legend was tainted by blood,
Made blush from kiss, thus
Made it red and made it pink
Against its pride purity.


Details | Rhyme | |

Morals Morality and Ethical Direction


Morals, Morality and Ethical Direction… We often hear of morals, morality and ethical direction. What they mean, I suppose, is “one’s discretion.” Very seldom, is anything from the Bible being heard. Why obey God’s commandments? Why, that’s absurd! Many claim, that as adults, just about anything is “o.k.” As long as you don’t do what they do, but what they say! Many are “bombarded” with sexual type of temptations… Often leading many to get into perverse addictions! We set up boards of people to try to be “ethically clean.” When it comes down to it… What does this really mean? Can a person be totally immoral, but 100% ethical?’ Does this, in some way, seem kind of “heretical?” Why believe in God? He’s been ruled “unconstitutional.” While many listen to the news, which is often “delusional!” We hear of perversions, that are often “glorified.” Do we hear of those wanting to be Godly sanctified? If you’re confused, and need some kind of spiritual guide! Look to God’s word! He has nothing to hide! The kind of morality and ethics that you’ll ever need… Can be found in the Bible! Open it and read! Why not read from Genesis through Revelation? We can all find what we need! Across our nation! God and his word give us a true moral compass for living! His life for our own lives, is what he’s freely giving! Won’t you come to Jesus for godly direction today? He is here! And wants to help you find HIS way! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Alliteration | |

Banana Boat Bob

<                        Banana ~ boat ~ Bob ~ is ~ a ~ slippery..... Boob
                          Thought ~ that ~  this ~ town ~ lost ~ it's .... groove
                          No ~ spice  ~  no ~  life ~ no  .... nothing
                          Little ~ lost ~ boy ~ now ~ looks ~ for ~ his ~ Lucy's ....  ring


                          When ~ where ~ what ~ or ~ even ......  why
                          I'll ~ inquire ~ insist ~ innovate ~ or ~ even  ..... lie
                          His ~ history ~ of ~ having ~ such ~ big ....... hamstrings
                          Maybe ~ even ~ mighty ~ magical ~ musical ~ fruits ~ and .... greens



                         Or ~ having ~ big ~ over-sized ~ onions ~ olives  ~ and ..... Kiwi
                         screw ~ this ~ he's ~ scum  ~ skewered ~ tossed ~ back ~ to ... sea
                         Poor ~ precious ~ pretty ~  Lucy ~  got .......    pranked
                         Cause ~ curious ~ Bob ~ couldn't ~ control ~ love ~ so ~ he ....  sank

              

                        All ~ alone ~ and ~ now ~ very .... angry
                        Drowing ~ deep ~ in ~ own ~ do-do  ~ droppings .... whopie 
                        Luscious ~ Lucy ~ now ~ can ~ look ~ long ~ and ...... hard
                        For ~ another ~ fast ~ floating ~ free ~ salemens ~ not ~ selling.... lard



Entry For
Linda Marie's
Luscious Love Lingers Contest
G.L. All


Details | I do not know? | |

WE ARE INDEPENDENCE!

We are Tausug Nation
Defending independence
Free from the enemies
Stood not to get oppressed

Our Nation ruled
Of the country’s independence
Never conquered from then
We shall develop our land

Our country, nation is known
Home of courageous person
Bound only in one faith
Never care of the death

Tumantangis, Dahu peaks of our land
To Bagsak, Sinumaan
And to all the mountains here
Only one God is aimed

Zamboanga, Basilan, North Borneo, Palawan
Centre is in Sulu land
Ruled by the Sultan
From the early point of time

Our nation is united
In the name of faith is complete
Only God is firm
Determined not to get conquered

Land of the pearl garden
Sulu Sea in the world is famous
From the South and North
And East and West

Blood of Martyrs flowed in the vein of the Sug Nation
Fought to defend
Flag rose like Vinta strip
Eternal pledge appeared


Details | Rhyme | |

There's A Web of Temptation And Sin

There’s a Web of Temptation and Sin!

There’s a web of temptation and a lot of sin…
That brings slavery and a strong bondage within!

Throughout this land, there’s an evil surge!
While many lives, seem to be getting “submerged!”

Being submerged, into a life, that many believe in.
They become perverted, but want all to receive them!

The “love and acceptance,”
 that many desire.
Puts them on a tightrope!  A very thin wire!

As the web of temptation and sin begin to grow.
It brings a bondage that damages the soul!

They may want to have “love and acceptance.”
But in their hearts, needs to be a godly repentance!

May the holiness of a righteous God be stirred!
That all will come back, to the truth of his word!

His son Jesus, came to the cross! He bled and died!
That through him, our lives can be totally sanctified!

Only the power of God, can bring a needed restoration!
He gives to one and all… 
 A heavenly invitation!

Whosoever will… Come now!  And accept him!
Won’t you take the time, to really know him?

Don’t allow the web of life to destroy 
and overcome you!
Come to Jesus now!  He really does
 LOVE YOU!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

I Went To Church Last Sunday


I Went To Church Last Sunday… I went to church last Sunday, and much to my surprise. I got up real early. It was just before the sunrise. I wanted to be with others in worship to my Lord. But when I arrived, so many there look so “bored.” When they were singing the songs, some didn’t seem to care. As I looked around, hardly anyone noticed I was there. By the time the people were asked to sing another song. Some greeted the worship leader with just another “yawn.” Did anyone really want to worship Jesus the risen king? Is church a place to simply “get bored with everything?” As the preacher arose to preach his “Sunday sermon best.” “Fill between the lines,” he said… This was to be the “test.” Shortly after the outlines were filled, there was a “closing prayer.” I noticed many of the people were “happy to get out of there!” I thought to myself as I left and walked out the door… “Is this what the true body of Christ meant for?” “Where is the sin-cleansing power of God I’ve heard about?” “Has the power of God in many churches been ‘kicked out?’” I pray that the presence of God will get a hold of our heart. May our worship for Jesus be evident… Right from the start! May our relationship with Christ be very important to us. May we give him our life! Our heart! And our trust! May our love for him not be a “boring Sunday experience.” May we serve HIM daily… Expecting a divine appearance! The Jesus I know is bigger than any denomination might be! And only his blood has the power to set men free! Serving and loving Jesus is an opportunity with living! A life in totally surrender to Christ is what we much be giving! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Acrostic | |

Poetry Soup Bowl

<                                    Pallets  profusely pulsating
                                      Over organic originals
                                      Emotions enormously emerge
                                      Through trident times
                                      Relic  rejoice recant
                                      Yes yearn yourself

                                      Solid structure's sanction
                                      Open  optional opinions
                                      Understudy understand unity's
                                      Poetry's passionate's pulse

                                      
                                      Because beauty bestows
                                      Over oversights objection
                                      Widespread whispers wanted
                                      Leaving lasting longevity


Entry For
Adeleke Adeite's
Acrostic 
Poetic Picture Of Poetry Soup
G.L. All


Details | Couplet | |

A Horse Of Course

<                                        Horses and snowflakes
                                   Illuminating to it's tongue's pallet's plate


                                              Open carriage rides
                                         Falling flakes in the eyes


                                             City strewn lights
                                  Hoof's echoing through out the night


                                             Fleece blankets
                                              Cider drank it


                                              Horns blare
                                              People's stare

                                             
                                        New York's Central Park
                                       An home for many after dark


                                         Four miles of bridal paths
                                    Drawn coaches to bring you back


                                          So horses and snowflakes
                                      Fills this ones poet's pallet's plate



Written By Katherine Stella
My Theme Was Both 
Horses And Snowflakes
This Is An Entry
For Constance ~A Rambling Poet 's ~ Contest
G.L. All
                                     

                                     
                                            
                             


Details | Free verse | |

A Costly Mistake

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Rhyme royal | |

" Bahama Nation"

A nation of peace,a nation of pride
A nation that's spread far and wide.
A nation of hope,a nation of joy,
Thats free for all, man,women ,girl and boy.

A nation to give,a nation to take
A nation filled with reggae,socca,calypso and rake and scrape.
A nation of colors; black,gold,aqua....sometimes called blue
can be seen everywhere above land and under sea too.

A nation of democracy and old english style,but things  sure have changed if you
look up our file.
From outside rock stoves,to TV,radio,computers and wi-fi connectivity.........
I'd say that a long way from July 10 1973.

An nation filled with hospitality,love and history,
Arawaks,Caribs and American Indians are the basis of our nationality.
A nation where Tourism is number one, because of the Bounty of sand sea and sun.

Yes,a nation of Youth,sports ,culture,uniqueness and island fashion trends,
Like native Androsia our own local blend......and straw work and junkanoo,the list has no end.
This nation of beauty,splendor and self defense ;yes its celebarting its own INDEPENDENCE.


Details | Pantoum | |

Hey I Want To Play Too

<                                     office assistant she plays the role
                                       phones radio computer her job
                                       city county state as her clients
                                       trees animals traffic she responds
                                       phones radio computer her job
                                       spills decomposed flesh she acknowledges
                                       trees animals traffic she responds
                                       foremen walk in's to her no matter
                                       phones radio computer her job
                                       city county state as her clients
                                       spills decomposed flesh she acknowledges
                                       office assistant she plays the role
                                       
   


Entry For
Frank Herrera's
Sounds And Smells Contest
G.L. All


Details | Couplet | |

Indigenous I Am, from the Stolen Generations

This is a journey, a trip call it what you will It follows the footsteps of my ancestors, and allows my thoughts too spill Firstly let me take you back, to tell you so little of my past Indigenous I am, from the "Stolen Generations" I did not last This is why I must make this journey, to allow me to find the real me To retrace the few steps I made, to rediscover what my young eyes seen How ironic that the person I'll ride with, is the son of the then official Whose deliberation to round up us children, the scene, locale It's now the morn of our travel, where I look I find hard to see The peripheral of the distant horizon, is all that really captures me The town where I grew up so young, barely to the age of five Perth, now bustles like a termites nest, zig zagging in busily strive Into the bush we go, to a place where us youngsters so enjoyed Moore River Native Settlement, which soon became children void As I walk my arid lands, patterned in the heat of this day I recall with every step, where us Indigenous children played We could survive on the smallest of fruit, water we could easily find Even the son of the then official, said that we are a superior kind He marvelled when I spotted tracks, traces of where animals crossed Remembering back to when I was five years old, our lands always talked We opened up as we led our horses, introduced all those centuries ago They opened up my lands, rivers we walked, now the white man flows This is a journey I had to make, it's called, it's in my will No more "Stolen Generations" no more will my culture spill


Details | Verse | |

Spirituals and Drums

My ancestors walking in the night
using oil lights and moonlight for guides
while being instructed to Wade in the Water
to camouflage their scents like disguise

The Sweet Chariot awaited 
so they could ride away
Harriet was a soldier
and it wasn't an option to be caught during the day
That's the same mentality Nat Turner had when he sang
Steal Away

They would follow the drinking gourd
so all were in accord to go north
The Gospel Train was coming
and at the end of the journey
was a fine reward
Freedom was coming
and it was a long time coming and
they walked until they heard freedom bells ringing
and I still hear their tired footsteps running

Thinking of My Darling Nelly Gray
Stolen from my arms a random September day
and eliminated our chances to run away together
No family ties, no love, no strength says the oppressor

Then I hear the drums beat in the darkness
giving me the hope of finally being free
Maybe I'll follow them this time on faith
on bended knee
There must be a place for me among the light
of this darkness
Among oppression, thieves, evil-doers
no thought on their conscience

Thank goodness for the safe houses that
supported our traveled distances
and for the conductors who bore witnesses
and may God have mercy on the souls who
were against this
and on those who chose to forget this sh@!

I still hear crying in quilts of safety 
because I know that the burden was heavy
to be at the mercy of nature and patrol men
catching run-away slaves for money
Some did it bare feet with freedom ahead of this
loved induced journey and they made it
So all that bull about how your life is hard
just stuff it in an envelope and save it



Details | Blank verse | |

Pub

Flavors of the sea
Swirl in my mouth
In a tomato sauce
And pasta medley.
I, full of glee.
Music all around me,
Ambience feels so free.
This pub is the place to be.
The food so simply
Deliciously consumed.
The clams are shiny
The mussels so salty.
Swirling medley tastes heavenly.
Exquisity in its graceful serendipity.
The smell, the vibe, the colors.
Oh how I love music amongst
All voices of the others.


Details | Rhyme | |

SOUP Spoonin'

Online tonite
looks like 
a whole lotta' spoonin'
goin' on in the "Soup"

nosin' around the comment coral
I see love 
amongst the group

yessir'...
hot Soup!
stirred 
not shaken
marriage scent in the air
no fakin'

where it leads...
we shall see
I know some 
are dippin' crackers in the "Soup"
but Lawd' knows 
IT AIN'T ME!~


Details | Haiku | |

This Land is My Land

Pastoral country
Where folks wave to passers by--
Farmers plowing

Exit 386
Wal-Mart, fast foods, and hotels-- 
Tourists stop

Modern businesses
Of every type one might need--
The short road to town

Refurbished storefronts
With arts antiques and barbers--
Downtown businesses

Houses big and small
Fill the local neighborhoods--
Quiet streets

State Parks, music fests
And neighborhood barbeques --
Entertainment

Outside of town
Beautiful farms and woodlands--
The rural folks

The river rises
Bringing water to my land --
Children in kayaks

The home of brave hearts
Who understand nature’s way --
King and rattlesnakes

The home of the free
Where people are seen smiling--
Live Oak, Florida

ã June 5, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member   MY LAND IS MY HOME 
Sponsored by: ~ SKAT ~


Details | Free verse | |

The Luck Of The Irish

Ahhh the luck of the Irish 
complete with leprechauns 
and pots of gold 

The Emerald Isle 
God's country 
filled with lyrical voice 

but no one hears her cry 

that fabled luck 
truly a fable t'would seem 

suffering 
the only thing in abundance 
it is their only pot 
that remains filled 

an impoverished relative 
showing up late for dinner 
tossed a few scraps 
from the rich relatives
but not allowed to sit at the table

a history rich with servitude
famine, plaque 
and indentured slavery 

spit upon by class distinctions 
laughed about as uneducated 
their brogue common 

ahhh yes the curse of the commoner
in a society that rewards 
upper class and the deemed 
right of birth 

drunken happy go lucky louts 
that would steal your pants 
rather than wash his own 
and on and on the prejudice flows

from old days into the new 
of drinking and gambling 
even in the movies 
portrayed as a rogue 

these perceptions followed 
fine people across the sea
where they built the cities 
endured the hardships 

and still no one hears their cry 
no one gives them their due 

they did the jobs 
others were to afraid to do
the hard labor
standing on steel skyscrapers 

so many descendent's
of this proud people 
have formed the foundations 
of other countries 
and still they do not control their own 

now the world frowns 
not understanding the religious battle 
that dwells within 
it's all they have 
their faith 
it makes perfect sense to me 

for yes the Irish 
would start a fight in a church 
for they are not afraid 
to stand up for their beliefs 

they are just hollow 
for so much 
has been taken from them
so much suffering 
has been endured 

so they cling to their faith 
as a man clings to a life preserver 
for to lose that last vestige 
they will lose themselves 

ahhhh the luck of the Irish 
maybe they should pass that luck to another 
then maybe someone will hear their cries

someday they may follow the rainbow 
and will truly find that pot of gold





Details | Rhyme | |

What Will I Do Where Will I Go

 UNSUPPORTED CODE What Will I Do?   Where Will I Go?

What will I do?  Where will I go?
Which direction I’ll take…  I don’t really know!

In just a moment, I lost all,  that I worked hard to get…
I’m thinking of “letting go.”  
But haven’t done it yet…

The things I held so close...  Have all disappeared.
It happened so fast.  It’s kind of “weird.”

Those I call my friends, don’t really know
 what to say.
Most of them shake their heads, and walk away!

I’ve cried myself to sleep many days and nights.
It’s like someone has “turned off the lights.”

The only one I know, that I can turn to, is Christ alone!
I need him to heal my broken heart and home.

Dear Jesus, will you take some time to help me out?
I know that helping people is what you’re about!

Please help me to pick up the 
pieces that are scattered!
Help me to focus on the things in life
 that really matter!

I need to give you, all of my focus and attention!
I need your word to show me
 some clear direction!

You’re the one that I always need to hold on to!
I need to do this, and to completely trust you!

Thank you Jesus for listening
 and answering my prayer!
I’m thankful that you’re someone who really cares!

Thank you for restoring my life,
 that has been “up-ended.”
With your love, my heart has been
 healed and mended!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Couplet | |

Dirty Dan

<                             Driving along in my automobile
                               Seen homeless man holding sign will work for his meals

                               Should I stop or should I just Go !
                               Should I give Or Should I just say hell No !

                              But what if that was me
                              Crying out with such pitty

                              Not knowing where to get next meal
                              Three kids crying at worn out heels

                             Cardboard boxes to call our home
                             Dumpster diving for pieces of foam

                             Think I'll give him a piece of my pot
                             Opened wallet and gave him alot

                             A nice twenty came on out
                             Wiped out was his sadden pout

                              
                             Drove by an hour later
                             Homeless camp wiped off roadmarks slatter

                             
                             Wonder where dirty Dan had now roamed
                              Just hope he finds a better suitable home


Details | Ballad | |

BESIDE EVERY GREAT WARRIOR OF OLD

Men were given total dominion
over all living things, and when
they subdued their enemy:
they were granted immortality!

Beside every great warrior of old, 
there was a strong woman of humility,
who gave him a victorious  sword;
and helped him change the course of history! 

Emperess Theodora was one of them to show adversity;
when Noka's revolt broke out:  she decided to stay,
while her hushand, Justinian, fled the city;
what an admirable act of feminity!

Beside every great warrior of old,
there seems to be a look of invincibility,
a defying moment to obtain glory;
and the cost for a golden crown is well-known!

Be the warrior of modern times, treatened by fear and fragility, 
seek out the man you were destined to be;
trust that woman who posseses internal beauty,
and beside this warrior, her courage will guide you with dignity!


Details | Kwansaba | |

Environments Verse

Can a word be just a tree?
Is a forest any form of poetry?
Where the soil adds imagery of style,
Rains make the flow of each line.
Light the feeling that reader reacts too.
Warmth of summer the deep rich stanzas,
Winters frigid ways the ending of strength.


Details | Dodoitsu | |

Let's Have A Party

<                                       wedding's party together
                                         leave space missing attendents
                                         brides grooms best man maids honor
                                         forget not thy rings

                                                                                  
                                         
                                         petals strewn on red carpet 
                                         notable winks for moms dads
                                         confetti strewn high in air
                                         board open carriage



Entry For 
Dr's Ram Mehta's 
Wedding Rehearsal
Dodoitsu Contest  
GL All


Written by Katherine Stella
5/8/2011


Details | Free verse | |

Christmas delights!

Clouds garland snow capped mountain peak
Icy snow butterflies melt kisses upon my nose
Puffs of warm, moist breath balloons billow out before me,
quickly chilling, disappearing before my eyes
Crunching snow compacts beneath booted feet
Prints set deep, little more than momentary reminder 
of where you have stepped before
Crisp white blanket glints
almost winking it’s Christmas card welcome
as it’s vast white carpet spreads before you beckoning 
All of nature along with everything manmade becomes anew
Nothing seems out of place
A bird lands on branch of tree causing cascade of padded canopy
New mound takes position with little noticed effect on perfect landscape

Children laugh and run as they hurl packed balls at one another
Dashing, darting, ducking and returning rogue ammunition
to offending hand and screams of pleasure
Slipping, falling they tumble over repeatedly 
Waving arms and legs, when finally still to create snow angels
Then, standing up clothed as abominable snowman
Giving rise to fresh ideas as new creation begins with rolling snow
Bigger and bigger they chase and push, packing tight as they go
Another ball a little smaller to place on top of first for head
Then off they scatter in all directions looking to clothe their model
Returning with woollen hat scarf 
carrot and stones to place as eyes nose and mouth with button features
Admiring they know their masterpiece shall be short-lived
For mother nature’s hand will chance to create another slushy muddy puddle


Details | Elegy | |

My Kashmir Burns (Part 1)

I picture Kashmir through lightened KL. News of another massacre darkens my eyes
Winds are thirsty there. They continue to taste the young blood.
I groom myself with exquisite things,
Sipping ice tea in ac room, I comfort myself
And Kashmir burns. Kashmir set ablaze

I can smell the warm blood of beaten corpse
Where from winds bought this smell. Somewhere Karbala reborn.
Mosques are being slammed
There windows stoned. And the black boots leave their footprints on Mimber
Even God judges on evidence
There is one Imaam left now; he hides her daughters in his shadow
A blunt knife in his hands; soon he will sacrifice them to keep their innocence
Kashmir is burning. Kashmir is bleeding
And I write.

Army jeep chases the tracks. To find the associated bodies
They are alive now. Soon they will be dead
From Patan to Sopor, And in narrow passages of nostalgic downtown
Ghosts of curfew
Haunt the houses for young souls.

From the Kupwara cantonments, search lights chase emptiness
Nothing is left now. Search lights can’t see inside the graves
A boy there went missing for two days. His father starts digging his grave.
I put my earphones on and I close my eyes. I sleep
While my Kashmir is ablaze
“It’s me poor farmer’s son. Kupwara’s charm, I feel no pain”.
I see him so alive in my dreams.
He chants songs of Mahjoor from his burnt lips. My hands shiver. He has no finger nails.
I see his smoke tanned skin. Same as that of Khayam’s barbeques
He stands at a distance from me. I can still smell kerosene
“Tell my mother to let her heart become cold. Her heart will not bear my state.
Tell my mother to let her eyes become blind. Her eyes will not withstand my sight.”
I follow him towards his tortured body. He tells me to follow the spilled blood.
His blood has made its own Jhelum. I row on it. Until it gets lost in black boots
The story will turn into legend. I find his body no more.

On the streets silence prevails. Nobody has permission to wail.
Sisters are beatifying coffins while brothers look for stones.
For bullets there will be stones
Kashmir is ablaze. She is wailing in grotesque tones.
In Lal Ded hospital a new born cries: Father register me at cantonment then take me out
Death is recruiting in dozens at a time.
Tomorrow is curfew. Death has no curfew pass.
How they want to identity you. Becomes your identity
People burn up all you identity cards.


Details | Free verse | |

To Russia With Love

under the veil of equality 
it silently slithered 
feeding words of lies 
to those starved for truth 

and they swallowed 
them whole 
for they ached inside 
their hollow existence

were poverty thrived 
among classes 
they yearned to 
abolish 

and so the promise 
breathed hope anew 
drowning capitalism 
and blinding democracy 

the veil was lifted 
all those who swore 
alligiance
would be covered by 
security 

and so the lie was told 
silently it took  
freedom 
choice 
and individuality 

to now live within 
a regime 
that demanded 
and exercised its right
with cruelty and depravity 

lambs to the slaughter 
and so they went 
willingly 
until reality dawned 

finding poverty still resided 
at their table 
with no means 
to fill the empty plates 

with food stamps 
their allotment gathered 
in tiny rooms of three 
for ten souls 

and the winter winds 
blew harsh 
across their discontent
revealing the truth 

as Stalin smiled 
Lenin laughed

robustly
well fed, well groomed 
as so very well kept 

voices cried out 
but disappeared 
into the darkened nights
of Siberian slumber 

and the carved walls 
assembled for protection 
trapped them 
in their own solitude 

with the twinkling lights 
from the Kremlin 
beaming upon the stone 
painting it in the color 
that would come to represent 
their ultimate demise 

and Lenin and  Stalin sang loudly 
to Russia with love...



Details | Rhyme | |

The Thread That Binds

A little boy and an ant became great friends one day. 
But how to live drew them apart, and this is how they ran astray:

In the Ant’s heart was strict authority and constant work each day.
Why wasn’t the boy following someone, collecting for the food array?
The ant would always build everything in exactly the same proven way.
The anthill was underground and protected them perfectly every day.
Not adding to the hive was a crime, no one would ever think to display.
He knew every thing would be perfect, if everyone did their job and obeyed.

But the boy wanted to build bridges and trestles, just like his Dad, each day.
All of them out in the open, none of them under ground or hidden away.
And inventiveness came with the notice, of new and exciting things in daily play.
His life was really cool, not boring, as standing in a line would convey.
He’d invent, and ponder, and build in exciting, new ways, to fit each new byway.
Quick minded, and resilient he’d build, many fascinating and unique causeways.

The boy and the ant eventually went away, not happy with how the other lived.
They thought the other shortsighted and scorned, at what the other could give.
But they went away without realizing, how very similar were their lives.
For each would spend their time endeavoring to help others with their drive.
But understanding is a harder concept than building a bridge or storing food.
It takes a true gift to see the world as others do…

The moral to this story is really quite easy for all to see…
You can’t expect others to live their lives the way you want them to be.
Here, each was adding to their different world, only they could see.
While one was building for a smaller, singular hive…
The other was building for the hive of mankind.


Details | Dodoitsu | |

Early 1950s in Jacksonville Fl

Wafting on the morning breeze,
During manufacturing
Our whole town enjoyed the scent.
Maxwell House Coffee.

Freshness permeating air.
Aroma percolating.
Infusing memories of…
Grandma’s coffee pot.

June 3, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnen


Details | Light Poetry | |

Magical Candy Canes

Two little candy canes were bought at a store.
Excitement abounded as they’d have a new home, to explore.
Snuggled in a sack with beautiful toys all around.
Theirs was be a happy life, you can be sure, they had found

They arrived at their new home, as in a blink.
And what did they see, oh my, everything.
All that they’d dreamt of, was before them, you know.
And foremost was the tree… that they would call home.

The tree was decorated with such aplomb and fanfare, well done.
The children laughed and giggled as they ran all around.
What a riotous but organized day of joy it had become.
With tinsel, and ornaments, and lights so profound.

The candy canes were finally put on that glorious tree,
As, yes, a few were eaten by you and by me.
The ceremony ended when an angel was placed by Papa on top.
And no one made a sound, then vibrantly applauded as he came down. 

Finally they all had dinner in the room beyond, that night.
As all settled in to wait for that illustrious visit, so right.
Joy abounded all over this house as presents were, so nicely wrapped.
And cookies were made to hand all about.

The last of the candy canes would finally be eaten on Christmas Day…
As presents lay opened and children did play.
Now don’t be sad for those two magical candy canes…
They stole a ride with Santa to the North Pole on that special day.

Merry Christmas to all at Poetry Soup!


Details | Free verse | |

Of Africa

in the distance 
upon the wind 
are heard cries 
left unanswered 
against a backdrop 
of riotous color 
shimmering in emerald 
of pale eyes 

blinded to the black 
upon the soil 
treading on emotion 
and dreams 
held in the dark 
recesses 
where cream never looks 

they lay upon the white 
sheets to wrap tender souls 
as children remain lost 
parents forgotten 
interned under 
unmarked graves 
except for tears 
falling silently

I stare into Africa 
into a past 
that seems unmoved 
by the future 
stuck between equalities 
that are lopsided 
and diseases 
that shadow the poor 
like an anxious undertaker 

while I sit and sip 
lemonade in tall glasses 
in the shade of a tree 
not really my own 
but claimed for my 
protection 
wrapped in cooling veils 
that shield my eyes 
from the harsh realities 
and cover my guilt with silk 
easing my conscience

I stare out of Africa now 
to a world of ignorance 
for I am not alone 
not the only blinded person 
that chose to be that way 
as the cries crawl 
across the land 
and dead animals 
line the roads 
leading to human graveyards 
where the gates 
are always swinging open 
to welcome the natives home

I stare past Africa now 
and wonder in sadness 
will she survive all we have done 
of even survive all we haven't done 
as the blinders fall away 
and I uncover my ears 
the pain and cries reach me
conveying the answer

no, she will not survive us 
for not enough of us 

truly care...







Details | Lyric | |

Last Night This Canalbank Was Home

Last night, this canal bank was home
I see the tossed newspapers blow
And a solitary brown blanket lie
Where not all that long ago
Someone slept... but they were not camping
This was home last night
And, as I approach the bridge
I see him sitting there... on my right...

Hes old and weezened, lights a cigarette
Or at least his best to do so he does try...
And I ever the Christian full of compassion
Keep my distance and hurry by.


Details | Rhyme | |

" Brave decisions Make differences "

How many comments
To praise many writes
Have been posted on
This quite incredible site
 
How many comments
Need not said at all
But said they are
As their credence falls
 
Brave decisions Make differences
To eradicate the references
That bring this site into disrepute
As one by one, the Poets shoot
 
Our words we share for them to read
And in their reads their comments feed
Not to down, only to say
As many poems come their way
In various forms and many words
To be polite and not absurd
 
This Poetry site we have to save
Or we become the vulgars slaves
Struck down by a poisoned pen
Thank goodness there's not many of them
 
So at the helm, please read the above
Bring the site back to the one we love
This Poetry Soup family are here to stay
To write and read, on our choice of day
 
 


Details | Tyburn | |

sunset slumber

corvette

sunset

blanket

allset

raced to beach, parked corvette, sunset glows!
stretched out on soft blanket;allset--doze.


Dr. Ram's  Tyburn contest


Details | Free verse | |

Shameless Self-Promotion

Here they go again.
anything to win,
indulging
in shameless 
self-promotion.
layin’ it on thick, 
	makin’ sure it sticks,
		slappin’ it on like lotion.

“click my stuff,
and I’ll click yours too.
wanna feel like the best 
even though 
it ain’t true?”

back n’ forth complements
are so self defeating.
inflating other’s heads for praise 
is a blatant way
of cheating.

“do unto others”
but don’t lie, 
to boost their ego.
misleading them 
to raise their hopes 
should clearly be illegal.

no need to read 
a word
of their work
while scratching their backs 
bare.
skimmin’ 
	skippin’ 
		scannin’…
all’s fair
in tactical 
warfare.

poets thought to be adored 
while chewin’ truth’s gristle.
before you swallow,
broke a tooth that hurt
like a damn 
lit 
missile. 

feeding on lines 
with hidden agendas 
is worse
than bein’ ignored.
cuz’ when you find 
copy n’ pasted comments, 
your hopes 
are sadly floored.

how about 
reading and endorsing work
you actually enjoy,
instead of 
feedin’ folks a line of crap 
laced with praise 
and “atta-boys!”


Details | I do not know? | |

A DRUNK DAY

nice clothes
nice shoes
couple of girls
but i got a main boo

nice car
on 22's
lift kit on it
it's another 4in boost

hop out
see my homies
it ain't my forte
but all them smoking

big whip
car full
been drinkin since 1
n yet we still partying

fitted cap
yankee logo
girls say im fly
now they reaching for my "you know"

wake up
hangover
a hurricane went through the house
thanks mr Hugo

team liqour
super sick
i know i was texting
but dont remember this chick

she mad
im laughing
she says im an asshole anyways
i say i'm sorry but it was just another drunk day


Details | Verse | |

Carnival contest

Wild rides,
Bright costumes allure,
Like Broadway,
In hard times,
Distorted laughter echoes, 
A cheap treat for all.

Gaudy lights,
Masks with painted smiles,
Festivals
In the dark,
A house of many faces,
Screams of sheer delight.

By sabina
written 8/15/11
contest: Carnival


Details | Free verse | |

Concrete Jungle

So many millions of staring eyes
Vacant of souls to light the skies
All the noise! So much noise!
One can't hear thy inner voice
People shoving in a hurry
Upon their faces a look of worry
Rushing here and rushing there
Stopping not long enough to care
Such a mess all strewn with trash
Scurry. Scurry to get that cash
Out the window throw their cans
With no future thought for fellow man
Lungs aching from all the pollution
Yearning thoughts with no solution,
Came and saw. I stand alone
As to my place I call my home

Copyright © by Scarlett Anderson
Written 1/29/2010


Details | Rhyme | |

All Roads Lead To The Holy Land

Hundreds of years would pass by, 
and still the battles raged. 
Arab and Palestinian enemies, 
new wars would now be waged. 

The land of milk and honey, 
where riches do abound. 
Is where you can always find, 
some army hanging round. 

What man doesn't understand, 
he tries to take by force. 
What he doesn't like it seems, 
he tries to change its course. 

Internal struggles abound, 
of who owns what and when. 
To the death it seems to be, 
their religion they will defend. 

Of the Jews they suffer still, 
persecution and so much woe. 
No matter where in this world, 
they ever choose to go.

Not one small piece of land, 
are they allowed to own. 
With the creation of Israel, 
hatreds seeds were planted and sown. 

Add in the Iranians, 
and all those from Iraq. 
Sprinkle in Afghanistan, 
and we have today's rather sad fact. 

The fight lives on and on, 
until all are in their grave 
Or one to the other themselves
will soon become enslaved. 

So now we've come full circle, 
with the crusaders trying to defend. 
The rights of one religion and race,
now on them have come to depend. 

There has to be hypocrisy there, 
or have we learned the lesson well. 
Did history teach us the truth, 
only time will too soon tell. 

Or is it just the same old game, 
as Peter and Adolf will attest. 
Is oil the riches that we seek,
again to feather our own nest.

The truth is hard to find, 
and even harder to discern. 
For man's power and greed,
inside our souls does burn. 

Under the guise of religion
or protection of our homes. 
There are way too many buried, 
as we climb upon their bones.



Details | I do not know? | |

Revolt

Revolt in a see of blood oh mourner and cast your voice away, the regime will shoot at you
today and corpses will roll.  Protest in constant pain oh mourner and toss your body to
the wolves, the regime will fire missiles and the masses will explode.  The fires will
spread like cancer and the regime will turn it's heels, fore the masses fight for freedom
and their mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters will be killed.  Revolt against the
murderers and let true justice be your shield.


- How dare there exist a being who would drop bombs on innocent protesters and send armed
forces to shoot down mourners at a funeral.  

 Where is the human spirit hiding in these darkened times? The true spirit of what it
means to be alive.


Details | Verse | |

Our Day Out

Went out today for a drive with a friend
We'll go into the hills up to heaven he said,
Round hairpin bends,o'er hill and dale we sped
When I looked down the drop did I dread.

Through villages we sped, though not too fast,
That we couldn't admire the places we passed.
Then by and by we came up to our first stop,
T'was indeed heavenly, A herbalists shop.

We had peppermint tea and carrot cake,
I even got something  for my earache.
Pano Akourdhalia was where we stopped,
Carolines Garden, the place where we shopped.

Soon this tranquil rest came to an end,
Off to Polis, we sped with our friend.
Lunch time came and found us there,
In a quaint little cafe behind the town square.

At the Art Cafe where Tina Tamamounas, our hostess,
Our hunger did placate with village salad and lasagne.
Finished off with tea and 'man' coffee and my Cyprus brew,
When hungry, it is a place we highly recommend to you. 

The journey home passed without event,
A lovely day out and we all were spent.


Details | ABC | |

Snows Glorious Realm

A Blizzard can drive even flurries graciousness hard intensifying journeys kingdoms laboring missions neighborhoods overridden pure quests reveal storms terrorizing unknowing victims with xenobiotic yielding zoothapsis.



Snow can be so beautiful and serene.
Though wet and bitterly chilling.
Unifying the countryside in brilliancy,
Victimizing the ground in slumber,
It must truly be experienced to appreciate its wonders.


ps I wrote one of both type : ABC




written by
Cecil Hickman



written for
Sponsor yasmin khan 
Contest Name SNOW ABC  


Details | Free verse | |

Survival Of The Fittest

Dropped out of school
At an early age
Lived on the streets 
Because, I disgusted my mother
She thought I was a poor example
Of true Christian beliefs
At an early age 
She religiously drummed into me
‘blood is thicker than water’
And yet, 
Here I am today confused, lonely and hungry
No one protecting me
No friends
No family
No home to go too
Just, peoples eye for an eye,
tooth for a tooth mentality
Praying for the sun to shine
To feel some warmth again!
Sun rays of hope, lighting me up
To live through this darkness without fear
With a heart full of faith
No matter what happens to me, now!
If only I could drink my salty tears
It would sustain me for a lifetime
Your tears are worth nothing, around here
You’re classed as weak and venerable
Only attracting death
Your life worth nothing!
Save me from myself
I am my best friend
I am my worst enemy
My prayers and dreams
Lost in the wind
Blowing around like autumn leaves
The rain washing them away
Down the drain into the sewage
Rolling with the seasons
Year after year
Survival for the fittest!
Surviving on the love
Hidden, inside me
Being my strength and guide
My personal lifeline
In surviving this crazy world 
We all live in


Details | Haiku | |

Three Resolutions

Sell my properties
Hopefully get out of debt
Less stress in my life



note:
Maybe two out of three aint bad,,hopefully.

written for
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver  
Contest Name ~New Years Resolution Haiku~ 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Chounds like

 Chounds like 
100hundred58 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
Chounds like 

 Eye chased mye deer into the rough the golf was tough and leathery the ball 
wound up in the gulf near the coarse leather coat the top coated layer of infinity. 
When every internet address is placed into the category suited to it best and 
every number has been named and everyone is best at what they do not just 
where they are could it be hard to let them off to la la land to make them just to 
understand the slot the slotted place therein. The lob lolly cained there was two 
of them they rub and shudder expectantly in exctasy like twine boarding a fence 
posting to the dead letter offices in all the land. The firmimentnation of the united 
stations was attacked with hate the rabbit tripped over the log anon and said 
quite frankly my dear eye don't give a darn who who is. They drugged the maiden 
dragged her screaming from the bed the water stain will set in the rug don't ewe 
understand it was to be this afternoon not later in the day not tomorrow anyway it 
has to be soon after noon. The goon dropped a cup and he grumbled and he 
gripped it in one hand and it slide like the banana peeling from the tree shaded 
oasis banana vines green black men picking them forking bales of hey what was 
that noise a student in the background just redialing all his porn so sure that all 
those girls are doing time to make him worn. Egads the Chounds are about us 
they have been released on Edgar come Allen forward POE. They foxed the 
kittens and sometimes the medical officer gets some extra hush money to look 
the other way is danger danger warning warning the alien is coming. When you 
must explain anything a joke or silent laughter a penny for your thoughts the 
hidden manna best sometimes to leave unsaid the thing so evident for iff she 
has not gotten it a lenghty explainnation will not further it along the windsome 
parapet the jester faking it has lost the thread the limits of the outer kind 
surpassed in unbelief. Nothing is perfect in scrabble blast eye have noticed 
sometimes there is only one tile left over but it still gives ewe the option of 
scrambling the letters and it even tosses the tile up in a vain attempt to move the 
thing in semblance of the shuffeling required by law in this game. Survival 
dictates like a witch brewing portents in the ditch poor and sinful man disgraced 
walking to the human race the chounds to chase. 


Details | Free verse | |

Pateince

Carnelian robes permeate dreamtime landscapes
of parchment and prayer flag.
Smiling faces walk swiftly
through corridors of ancient walls
carved from living mountains,
spinning cylindrical wheels in their wake.

Patience of a thousand, thousand years,
we wait for peace.

Eagle feathers jounce
as soft moccasins dance heartbeat
on the prairie hair of Mother Earth.
Sacred sisters hold position in jingle dress rhythms
offering prayer pipes to their men,
who burn sweet grass as they fancy dance past.

Patience of a thousand, thousand years,
we wait for peace.

Hula dancers waft sea breeze
in the heat waves of Pele’s fire.
Warrior lines pace boundary between the worlds,
as molten lands part the waters
and oasis the humble in a paradise
where lei lines encircle life.

Patience of a thousand thousand years,
we wait for peace.

Condor circles as mountains spirits speak
telling stories of forever and ever.
Ancient peoples gather in raindrop mists
to nourish the living land
and feed the collective soul
the medicine of dreams.

Patience of a thousand, thousand years,
we wait for peace.

“Imagine all the people” sound waves and ipods
park bench hosts to afternoon drummers,
as momentum gathers
inner city gardeners and beekeepers
buzzing to the cyber shifts
of “sharing all the world”.

Patience of a thousand, thousand years
we wait for peace.


Details | I do not know? | |

Wildfire legacy

Tensely polarized 
Fiercely alienated 

Furiously devoid of
Space and peace

By deeds unjust
By antics blatant

Short-changed
Shit-noshed    

Orphaned 
Offended 

From people
To pieces 

An equation 
Unbalanced

Sinister motives
Documented

Grand strategies
Visible mirrors

To annihilate
To assimilate 

Partisan practices 
Warped policies 

Of can’t pilot 
Be passengers 
  
 
Lost trust
Lacks shine

Lost lives
Eternal

Galvanise 
Demonise 

Keep on to 
Put down  

Till one sees
The snake’s

Nude red 
Buttocks!   


Details | Free verse | |

The soldier, the war, and I

The soldier, the war, and I


Today I am home and thinking to my self..
What would I be doing if I had a soldier coming home to me and my family?
What would I be doing if I was the soldier looking to going home to my family?
And then, I look back at all the years passed since this last war..

Many children have grown to become men, Others have grown to become soldiers
Where would I be if I had gone to the war and fought for my country?
Where would I be if I had gone and came back safely?
Where would I be if I had not gone at all because I was not qualified to go?
Would I be with my family or in a hospital injured?
Would I be standing proud, and laughing with my friends and family?
Or would I be dead, as I never got to come back?

Today I am home and thinking to myself..
Thinking of all of those brave soldiers, children still
Who are out there, suffering.. And some ill

Today I am home and thinking to myself..
How many woman are crying because of their gone loved ones
How many men are crying for their loved and missed ones
How many children are fatherless or motherless, or both!

And at the end I stop. I think no more..
I am grateful for the things I have, 
I am grateful for the people who surround me...
And I am sure grateful to never have gone to a war; yet, 
I sure appreciate the thoughts, courage, life, and suffering
Of all of those who have been touched by it.


Details | Couplet | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Darts

Drops of sweat slip from my furrowed brow
Eyes squint, select a number and let fly now

Miss again, a millimetre is a mile once more
Aimed for triple twenty, only got double four

The walk of shame, my oh so familiar friend
Silence broken, on alcohol I forever depend

The steel point of eyes bore into my neck
My opponent leaves me a juddering wreck

I lose the match; the wife won’t give me a kiss 
I wish I could have been anything else than this... 


Details | Verse | |

Knights Lance Fluttered Streamer

Scottish charm Gods grace merry place
Long tables brightly colored cloth canopy
Foresters  tales  minstrels  manuscript
White flowers hanging garden priests
Veins on forehead thick black  beards
Castle hall best  jesters bravest beef
Scarlet cross mantle linked chainmail
Gallant warhorse plaited headpiece
Kindhearted  man  loved her deeply
Sage smoke vapours rose sunrays
Mighty hunter brought quarry home +
breathed deeply the scent of flowers
Red-and-gold garlands on his neck.


Details | Free verse | |

The Russian Palace

Far from harsh reality
Of cruel peasant life
Gilded surroundings
Of smooth parquet floors
Damask-lined walls
Crystal chandeliers
The background music of
Imperial fountains
Soothed the nobility at Peterhof
St. Peterburg's bow to Versailles;
Carriages and troikas 
Moved elegantly, smartly 
Conveying crowned heads
Seeking favor from the tsar
In a great hall now guarded
By old Russian babas
Nodding, fighting sleep
As they glare at the tourists.



Details | I do not know? | |

Gulf Oil Spill !

Man to blame,
Once again to his shame,
His record continues to destroy !
 
The beauty he did not create, nor can he save…
He will never learn how to properly behave…

Nature screams pointlessly once again ?
Fearing where next we’ll drill ?
Gulf oil spill.


Details | Sonnet | |

An Afghanistan Wedding

The swift and silent missiles swept,
The quiet well kept neighborhood.
They ran like hell, those that could,
While the reposed laid in their best dress.
With evil-doers upon the earth,
Vigilant must be the pursuit.
To cut the sickened by the root,
And banish vile impure thought.
With white-collar crime for collateral,
It matters not the costs.
As pockets line, the death toll climbs,
While the positioned take sabbatical.
And I cannot hide my bastardness,
For when we kiss   my lips   fall dead.


Details | Rhyme | |

Illusions

Cough and splutter in a crowded room. A juke-box is playing another dreary tune. Lonely man feeds a bandit spending next week's rent Woman sits at bar smothered in make-up and scent. Young men at pool table in torn and holey jeans Are shouting in unison about favourite football teams. Soon elephants are pink leprechauns are green, Unreality is the truth that we have seen. Cold cold beer brings on the confusion It's the outside world that is now an illusion.
This is a sort of parody. Based on a Moody Blues section on one of their albums. Think it was just before or after one of the songs. Called Late Lament. Thought I'd better credit it any way just in case anyone points it out.


Details | Rhyme | |

Another Year That Came and Went


This has been another year that came and went!
I often wonder, where has my time been spent?

It  seems like yesterday, we rang in the new year!
But, very quickly, it has all just “disappeared.”

I think about my accomplishments, goals and dreams.
Do they matter anymore?  Do they mean anything?

This life I have, is just but a brief moment in time.
One day, I’ll simply leave everything fast behind!

My relationship with Christ is what really matters!
Everything else in life, is just “empty chatter!”

I pray that as this new year comes and goes…
My relationship with Christ will continue to grow!

The older I get, I’m beginning to see!
I need much more of Jesus, and less of me!

He is what’s needed!  Whatever this year holds!
I need him more, as each year I grow old!

With each year, that comes and passes me by…
I want more of Jesus, until the day I die!

He is my friend, what is certainly needed!
With him in me, my life is completed!

Thank you Lord for this brand new year!
You are the one I’ll hold ever so dear!

By Jim Pemberton   


Details | Burlesque | |

Hungry Vagrant~

My tummy growls an empty swirl
Hunger stews inside my tummy
Weak from a lack of nutrients 
My heavy head seeks rest
With frailty ......I search incessantly 
Whence comes my next meal?
The question lingers with vigor
I ache for something to devour
Indulging the smell of restaurants 
Walking slowly past…..wondering ….
Could I eat an empty table’s leftovers? 

Not having enough wits to debate it
Taking initiative, I step over the railing
Grabbing a bread stick left on a plate
I fill my innards …..nothing satiates me
Looking up from the outside patio, 
Bread in my hand and my cheeks full, 
My eyes fixated on the waiter watching
I continue to chew and swallow what's left
Tucking the rest into my pocket
I step nonchalantly over the patio rail
Back onto the sidewalk with pride
Smiling content with my vitality intact.....
                                         .......... I walk on


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

'HEALING'

The beauty I see in things 
makes me so sad....
For when I find something beautiful,
It may never be quite that way again.

A summer day
an autumn breeze
a color in a sunset....
your warm hand held in mine.

Why do i still hear your name....
in my head....
Faint,
tired....
so tired.....
almost dead.

My soul still whispers to God for you 
without me even thinking....
So thoughtless,
hopeless,
longing,
sadly dreaming. 

Unbearable.......
That sweet old dream of being in your arms 
my frame stood secure in yours
You were thin and warm and sturdy.....
soft coat of yours so cozy.................
Your face emanating ‘happy’....

Too soon, you began to fade away......
In tears I closed my eyes 
and held on tight.....
Oh, I couldn’t bear to watch you disappear again
But I felt it, all right.....

Your memory....
I’ll stuff in the dark of my mind 
in an ebony box
And keep it so tightly shut....
Tied with a long, dripping ribbon of blood

And thus my healing has begun.....
But I’ll still be on the run.........

No love deserves to live so long...
then die alone, so painfully.
Never again will this soul feel so trapped---
so helpless----
and so...........free......................


sorrylittlesharky.com


Details | Rhyme | |

Wonderland

Take me by the hand
Come with me to this far away land.
Where life as we know it comes to an end.let

We journey back in time
To a place that lives only in our minds.
Where the light shines so bright that it blinds.

The feelings of love ignite.
Let your mind lose control and take flight.
Begin this journey with me to Wonderland.

We travel hand in hand,
Without judgement, together we unite,
Without fear, we join for just one night.

The feeling of peace in the air,
Forget about worries,
Life without care.
Let the music take you there.
Move your feet to the rythym of the beat
Lose control for just one night.

Journey with me through Wonderland
A place never to forget.
Wonderland lives on tonight.
In my dreams, 
I close my eyes and look towards the light.


Details | Rhyme | |

Our God Reigns


Our God Reigns…

Our God reigns in the heaven’s above!
Behold the mighty works of his power and love!

Our God reigns in the mountains on high!
His power reaches down to the deserts so dry!

Our God reigns on his heavenly throne!
He wants to be the Lord of our hearts and homes!

Our God reigns over the majestic seas!
His creation is magnificent!  This you can see!

Our God reigns over governments here on earth.
He gave his son, so we can have a “new birth.”

Our God is mighty!  Everyone shall kneel before him!
He longs for us to worship and adore him!

Our God has made a mansion for you in heaven.
He wants to be your God!  Won’t you let him?

Our God stands knocking at your heart’s door.
Won’t you let him in?  What are you waiting for?


By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

It's Friday

<                                         Is It Friday Yet ?
                                            Yea ~ You Bet


                                            Just Got Paid
                                            Now Want To Get Laid


                                            7 ~ 3
                                            Good Golly

                                           
                                            Boss On  Ass
                                            Like Sharpel Of Glass

                                            
                                            Phones Ringing Off Wall
                                            Everybody And Their Mother Calls

                                            
                                            Fix This Fix That
                                            Phone I just Want To Splat


                                            Tic Tock Tic Tock
                                            Goes Slow On Dam  Clock 


                                           Thursday  -  Monday
                                           All I want To Say


                                            Is It Friday Yet
                                            And No I Can't Afford A Dreamy Jet


                                            So As The Saying Goes
                                            I'll Just Keep Crossing My Fingers And Toes



Entry For
Joe Flach's
In Other Words Contest



My Inspiration 
Is It Friday Yet ?  LOL
G.L. All
                                            


Details | Personification | |

January Flumes

Jetting out first as many cascades,
Addictive in a calendar of twelve,
New Year’s Day known in charades,
Unknown factions continue to delve.
Again and again it shapes natures tune.
Reveling waterfalls rouse in faded moon.
Yet without, life would have no commune.



written for
Sponsor nette onclaud 
Contest Name PERSONIFICATION OF JANUARY  


written by
Cecil Hickman


Details | Rictameter | |

Lurid Resonance

One boom,
Excitement; what,
Distraction so quickly,
Anxious to a maximum thrust.
Astounded, wondering, if others heard.
Expressive quiet; following,
Lost, for just a minute,
Bewildered shake,
One boom,


written for
Sponsor nette onclaud 
Contest Name SOUND OF EMOTION 


Details | Blank verse | |

Heavenly Harley

Brown red shiny grey trees
twisting peeling upward
into canopies of myriad pastel leaves
waving over tightly clustered
rusting house trailers
A squeezed in deck with barbecue umbrella
and third hand lamp stand
the ever present  plastic bucket upturned 
by packing crates for table
A Harley rumbles gutturally  behind
a cute converted hearse
Erotic plants, some in pots
weed up to camouflage and hide
tiny windows opened to the breeze
Another day in paradise beside 
the ever flowing stream of traffic
From key to sundrenched key


Details | Verse | |

The Frigid

A trail of twinkling city lights
The land where my fancies take flight
And soar across hazy hues of neon
When to dreamland folk are gone

I step into their dreams to peak
What their concrete hearts seek
In their unconsciousness of purity
I just wake up with new found surety

I'll never find the truth of life
The sense and reason of the strife

Its far too bright in the city night
The darkness within obscures my sight
As mine as theirs and the falsehood
That their whole lives withstood

But those who learn the emotional game
Receive fame,accolades and acclaim
And I look up at the sparkling city lights
The sparkle seems a lot less bright

The lights are just a facade to allure
To all the vice, the sin and all impure
And its an eternal epitome of falsity
With our souls and hearts in complicity

Now our lives belong to this frigidity
Yearning for warmth and simplicity


Details | Rhyme | |

The Market

THE MARKET 
 
[ From days of old the gathering of country folk to sell their wares has  
  taken place at the local market.  Today, the tradition still carries on. ] 
 
The paddock at the end of town 
lay mostly bare all year, 
except when market day came 'round 
folks travelled far and near. 
 
With stalls all shapes and colours there 
and wares of ev'ry kind. 
The country folk would amble 'round 
to see what they might find. 
 
One chap was selling leather goods 
another works of art, 
while one plump lady offered me 
a home-made apple tart. 
 
I met a couple selling gems 
which they had mined themselves. 
Two sweet old dears sold pottery 
arrayed on many shelves. 
 
Hand crafted toys were on display 
the envy of a child. 
One mum she dressed down her young son 
for he'd been running wild. 

My eye then caught a bearded man 
who busked and played guitar, 
though stopped at times to quote some verse 
he was so popular.  
 
A little girl came running by  
face painted like a cat, 
her smile expressed her great delight, 
there was no doubt of that. 
 
With two hot dogs gripped in both hands 
a rather plump young lad, 
seemed quite content in growing up 
to look like his old Dad. 
 
Three boys on ponies rode around 
bushranging on their minds, 
old Ned I think would counsel them 
to leave it far behind. 
 
Soon folk began to pack and leave, 
but they'd return for sure. 
The paddock would lay bare a while 
'til market day once more.  


Details | I do not know? | |

Professional Divorcé

Lost in emotions
Two souls approaching new path
Bitterness adorned


Forgetting love, possibly they shared.
Reasoning on the fights, they had bared.
Manly disfiguring blow.
So possible you know.
Now departing, both no longer  paired.


Marriages four, divorced three times now in this life of mine.

If another comes my way, next lover shall be a glass of wine..




For
Sponsor (Destroyer ((Poet 
Contest Name ~DIVORCE CLUB~ 


Details | Free verse | |

Do My Children Know?

Do my children know how much I love them?
No, of course they don't.
They weren't allowed to know.

Do they know how intense the pain is,
to go forward,
while not being allowed
to be their mom, or their dad?

No, but they know the intensity of heartbrokeness,
while going forward,
without their parents,
whom they should have never been taken away from.

They know the depths of lack,
that they were never meant to know...
They know the fears and the terror
that a "supposedly good place"
will unmercifully and maliciously inflict.

They knew the courage, as babes,
that grown-ass folk
won't walk in.

They know that you can't trust
the government,
or the agencies,
or the people in those agencies,
that are suppose to protect them
and their family units.

How could they possibly know
the depths of my love for them?
When they are still
stuck there
surrounded by people
who destroyed
their family
and screwed with their beginnings?


Details | Light Poetry | |

Tale of the White Snow Turtles

In the deep of the snow, In the dead of winter,
Under the Aurora Borealis taking our breath away.
The snow turtles jostle, and skittle, and Skim the snow,
All in a beautifully quiet nights, bountiful, wonderful play.

Man has seldom seen this recluse, so gentle and so renowned. 
White as the snow packed earth itself, they simply can’t be found.
They sled and slide and scurry to hide before the break of day,
No one knows they’re even there, for they make not even a sound.

Animals respect them for they can’t make them into prey.
Even the polar bears leave them alone, except for to play.
And no matter how much the bears bat them about, I say!
They just close up and go wherever they are conveyed.

Magical, they can swim waters quite cold and really deep.
They eat the little fishes and enjoy whatever they can reap.
A man will never find their den as they dig into the frozen snow,
For like the tundra gophers, they live in the frozen ground below.

I swear they do exist, for a baby once came to me, admiring my fishing pole.
For I had lots of little tasty, yummy, fish that he wanted my son and I to throw.
We obliged him just that once, and then for more nights before we left his land.
But if you're going searching there’s something I should let you know, offhand.
They only show themselves to the pure of heart with a fish offering in your hand.


Details | Haiku | |

city lights

midnight city lights
reflecting in wide eyes—
colorful beads

NEW ORLEANS AT 12:00 MIDNIGHT


Details | Terza Rima | |

CONFIDING IN SOMEONE

Often I've been accused of being too righteous and wise;
a zealot putting all his efforts in an unquestionable faith,
and my trust is never weakened by a delayed promise.


Others have gone from this earthly place, to rest in unattended graves;
I've been derided by their indignant, loud laughter,
and you think I would have been intimitated by their offensive words?


Never did I react unkindly, just ignored them and walked away,
not knowing that they would have been cursed and faced punishment;
and with premonition, I had foreseen every event of their destiny. 


Today, confiding in someone who will take time to listen... 
will give me a reliance not smeared with absurd ridicule;
I can give good advice: unforgettable words that will remain. 


Confide in selfless, trustworthy friends who show concern and self-assurance,
by their deeds you will know the trueness of their evident honesty;
so why wait and not run to one as I... and not start living without reluctance? 



Details | I do not know? | |

You THINK?

You think you might be in love.

You think he/her might be in love with you.

You think about a lot of things. Do you really know those things?

You think a lot, you worry a lot. 

But do you really HAVE to think or worry about those things?
  Or do you WAN'T to think or worry about those things?

Now that there is something to think about.

 
   

              *please leave a comment if you like it or fav poem if you might*
                                           
                                         -Angel4eva23


Details | Imagism | |

The Midget and the Giant

It was this little squirrel, running fast in real forest.
The moose isn´t fast in its movements, but has
got time for considerations.Different in size, in nature,
but they still has got respect for each other.

The small shop looks even smaller, when it lies besides
a scyscraper.But the owner to the shop is a happy man,
who´s known for his strong relations, yet despised by the bad one.
Forever he will be a sign to his time, forever standing in the sun.

The Midget walks proudly on the street, facing his challenge.
He´s meeting the Giant this day, on a battlefield of wisdom.
Who will be the winner?, who will put the words, in the right mouths?
The Midget already runs like the squirrel, he has found his trace.

A little thought of wisdom, is raising against the big vanity in time.
The struggle has never been fair, but always been won,
of this wisdom of ages, never buried in the noise.
To make up your own mind, has to be your most important choice. 



Details | Ode | |

myrrh marred marinas

myrrh marred marinas and goose-stepped geese 
set sapphire to salacious rhythm under the absent sun… 
a fantastical flamenco curtailed caustic cues, 
nine-balled eighths shot straight to the soul, 
pool for the favelas, thought for the fools… 


Details | Couplet | |

My Pal Joey

<                                         my pal Joe
                                    well don't you just know


                                     his illuminating writes
                              will drawn you to his pages site


                    epulaeryu ~ burlesque ~ didactics ~ or sonnets
                      you'll wanna wear a nice and sunny bonnet


                                          land sea or air
                            let your imagination take you there

                            

                                     inspiration bounded for your soul
                                       my pal Joe surely does know


                                  glad he's just a phone call away
                                 to lift my spirits in so many ways


                                    and if you want succulant mango
                                first you'll have to dance to the tango


                                        So please stop on by 
                          to give my pal Joseph Spence's poetry a try





Entry For
Adaleke Adeite's
Praise Your Poetry Pal Contest
GL All


Details | Rhyme | |

Through The Trials And Valleys

Through The Trials And Valleys…

I’ve been through trials and difficult situations.
Many times it happens with no explanations!

Whatever I’ve had or have taken with me.
I’ve been there when everyone has left me!

The uncertainties I’ve had and struggles I face.
Have brought me to my knees in a “quiet” place.

The journeys I’ve traveled and the storms ahead.
Have brought worry and stress in the words I said.

Whatever trials I’ve  faced...  To Jesus I cried!
A comfort and strength .   He did provide!

I know a truth that is important and most certain.	
Jesus can take away any hardship or burden!

If  there were no trials...  How could I trust him?
Because of what he’s done  How I love him!

If I had no hardships or trials, I’d probably “forget him.”
Giving him my whole life?  I don’t think I’d let him!

But he’s proven to me just how much he loves me!
He reached down from heaven and touched me!

He’s my comfort and joy and enduring friend!
He’ll be there with me…  Till the very end!

This Jesus I know.  I recommend him to you!
He is God!  Our provider! This is so true!

Won’t you give him a chance in your life today!
He can bring hope and take 
all of the dark clouds away!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Sonnet | |

Snipers

Dust and blood on an iPod that plays,
Hole, for love of country, for love,
Of the scope on a fine bolt action M-40  rifle.
Cupid was a sniper, for love of Psyche.
Like the marksman in the minaret that shot,
Lance Corporal Miller in the face,
He will have a thousand virgins at his feet.
As Corporal Nick Ziolkowski loved to kill,
Having taken three mortals in one day,
Was a badge of honor he would proclaim,
Now he lives under that shining city on the hill.
The world loves it’s patient heros,
How gently they lay in wait, divinely,
Saving humanity    from it’s dark Eros.


Details | I do not know? | |

Four Shining Stars (Dedicated to The Blue Collar Workers)

There are many places in this world
where people tend to go,
to get a really good laugh
from a Great Comedy Show.

But My Friends I say to You
The Place to go is this,
Where you will hear The Famous Line,
"You Might be A Redneck If......."

Next on Stage there comes A Man,
and He Say's "Here's Your Sign",
He makes us laugh time and again,
He simply is Divine.

Then next We ROAR with laughter
From This Line, "GIT - R - DONE",
This Man is simply wonderful,
His Smile's Bright as The Sun.

Up Next there is a Gentleman
that fills Our Hearts with Glee,
He Says, "That Judge just TICKED ME OFF!!!
I was in the bar you see."

These four men are wonderful,
they ALL shine just like the sun,
they fill our homes with happiness,
with laughter and with fun.

And so My Friends I say to you
the next time you feel blue,
Just Think of these Four Shining Stars,
They'll bring A Smile to You.


Details | Free verse | |

Olympic Village

A numbing wind is gusting
Newspapers dance with wrappers
Grey skies mute reflections
In a thousand facets
Of an Olympic jewel
Dull and lifeless
Dark and silent
Sitting empty
Misery walks in the streets
Blue knuckled homeless
Pull closed their ragged coats
Against the chilling daggers
Of poverty's icy breath
Shuffling past an empty promise
Their desperate eyes
Stare with longing
And cry in need







Written for Contest: "Empty Apartment"
Sponsored by Matt Caliri


Details | Rhyme | |

Zimbabwe

Zimbabwe we hear your country screaming
We're powerless to help you you're at the mercy of a party thats murderous and 
scheming
Robert Mugabe and his thugs the Zanu PF
They deny you free elections instead they dole out death
The world see's your pain but hears only one mans voice
Your human rights violated he's taken away your freedom of choice
The United Nation's and the peacekeepers won't intercede in this mess
If it was me that was in power and the balance i could redress
It would'nt take an army
6 men
3 letters
S.A.S


Details | Couplet | |

Anarchy in the UK - re-Written

This once nation of peace and calm, lies close to chaos and anarchy
It's Government will be in struggle, imploding indefinitely

What gives a person the right to carry a gun on to our streets
When challenged by the police, they can't accept their greet

Knowing they are totally wrong, some can't even admit defeat
Community drums now sound, then the morons take to our streets

These little sheep from hours earlier, turn rabid in bravado show
Turning on who can not defend themselves, as their manic strife grows

Businesses that survived two wars, are engulfed in a matter of hours
It's time to pass new laws, enforce to the full their powers

How many of the arrested have jobs, mortgages and families to feed
Yet they plunder the lives of others, to fill their moronic greed

They even try to help the injured, then decide to rob him as well
Society once again turns violent, as the media show and tell

Days of rioting abound, whilst the moronic multitudes grow
Is Anarchy their cry, many couldn't spell it I'll let you know

In a few days it will be over, families and businesses torn
I wait in anticipation, for the next calm before the storm










http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/political-and-society.php


Details | Rhyme | |

Tottenham to Toxteth

Let loose the whip
and tighten the lip
with its reasons for humble cause.

And I'm alight in darkened entries
shrugging my shoulders to warm
my picked pockets with another's
shoes.

Burning down the towered clouds
for the gas chamber streets,
why burn the bills
whilst flesh is still flamable?

And the crier rang out silently.
Could only make out the action,
of something she was trying desperately
the reasons of the destraction.

"You're too blind to make out colours
which have mixed to make brown.
Just a human illusion
of light under cover of sound."

The cobbles are disrupted
and yet its just another cup of tea
to watch on with, pathetically.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

141onefortyone

 141onefortyone 
141onefortyone 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
EwewonthelotteryNOT 
 

 Dear Recipient: You have won the lottery. 
Please add this address to your address book immediately so that we have our 
fishhookers in you from the start. This is VIP BENDSMORE from the obscure 
village of Pretendmore in East South Africa; we have upwards of ThirtyThree 
Millions Gold Bullions Cubes taken from the diamond mines of Kenya. Can you 
send us all your unknown information so we can fleece your pockets with our 
real inventions avarice and greed; we aim our guns to please. Send us nammes 
we need addresses we want numbers dates of birth and places we need to 
knoe the namme of all the ancestors so we can dig them up and do it to them 
also we need money in the form of PayPal send it to us by the score. You are 
also the one billionth customer we have a bonus a real raw diamond taken from 
the belly of the statue of the Qyeen of Sheba standing in front of the only Pyramid 
left in South Africa the Temple of Dome. We will send you the diamond when 
southern places freezes over Rodger and outside the ball one a swing and a 
miss the Swiss have many freebank accounts we want several more. To verify 
the account we will need the account number. Make the money in various 
denominations marked in small bills at least less than the Hundred Dollars so 
prone to counterfeit. So ewe want to be a writer it is not easy ewe to consistently 
come up with new ideas day after day document after document and make it 
pleasing to the eye and to the public view. Remit the African Qyeen list the 
holdings in your vault one by naked one send the stain sealed cartons with the 
nammes of all deceased upon them make the Africa River falter in its flow with 
barges laden with the heaps of dough. Remit mee send it rather quickly the need 
is efferpheasant rapid transit in my Africa Jungle is the local version of the snail 
the backs of Natives's heavy laden with the burdens of the way upon the lithe 
black ebon forms they sway in rhythms like a long slick serpent moving in a row. 
Please add Seventy five cents for deposit. We found a founder he will send us all 
the more he is the President of Baltimore the Oriel. Ewe remember him the long 
tall one with the largesse straw hat the one who did the 7 Up commercial oh did 
eye say HAT no his head was shiny bald. Try saying that one quickly in the cold. 



Details | Free verse | |

LISTENING TO THE PELICAN'S PLIGHT

What brought me to this sullen shore...
is not sheer curiousity at all,
but an equivocal question too hard to be answered
even by those whose minds are so cultured! 

Pelicans swarm the February's frigid sky over the bay...
like clumsy butterflies greeting a spring's day;
it's past sunrise, and all clouds catch on fire,
fleeting to the western sky to avoid the infernal dire!

I take a brisk walk adventuring in the gelid wind's blows...
as the agitated waves  indicate an imminent storm;
unafraid , I lean over the fortress's  stones with hands so cold,
to feel the vengefulness of a sea frightening all humans!

It's Saturday mid-morning, I hear a shrill filled with emotion, 
and a shivering pelican comes close to where I stand;
he doesn't want the crumbs in my generous hand,
but understanding and much more compassion!

If he could talk and tell of his plight so unspeakable...
I'd listen and make a promise for his survival...
where  once limpid waters rolled so brightly,
painted in gold by the solar glow, now they look too murky!      

Does he feel great animosity toward us...
we, who build and destroy, kill and terrorize?
And what made him turn to me  so fearlessly;
and will we, rulers of this earth, show hiim some mercy?      


Details | Rhyme | |

An Immersion Of Perversion

It seems like there’s almost been a total immersion… Of so many people engaging in perversion! Many are “sin’s slave.” And don’t know what to do! Be careful! It could happen to me and you! Just turn on the television! And you will find… People with very warped and confused minds! All you have to do is read Romans chapter one. And you’ll see the “moral fabric” is being undone! In this passage it makes it so very clear… The wrath of God against evil is very near! The wrath of God is revealed against unrighteousness! He’s a God of truth! And demands holiness! No matter how many laws may say it’s “o.k.” We need to really read what God’s word has to say! God is here and he really wants to teach us… No matter our sin… He can always reach us! The wages of sin is death… But God gives life everlasting! A victorious life in Christ… Is yours for the asking! Why not serve the God who created the heavens above? And be filled with his peace, mercy and love??? By Jim Pemberton


Details | Light Poetry | |

' Vacation Play ... '

Calypso, Bèlè, Limbo,  Reggae
And a Pool Boy, Called Lonny Ray
Margarita and Coolers, by The Bay
All With Umbrellas at Seaside Café’

Like Caribbean Pirates, Taking A Chance
Shaking Our Lala, Wining-Dance
Vacation Adventure, Love-Romance
Worth Every Penny of Check-Advance

Barbados, Tobago, Jamaica, Fun
Songs, Soca, Sand, Surf and Sun
Float To The Bar, in Another Run
Frozen Daiquiri, Screwdrivers, Coke and Rum

Xylophone, Steel Guitar, Cymbals, Steel Drums
Almost, Made Us, Want To Be Beach Bums
When Asked, Were We Happy, We Did Come ? …
… Yeah Mon,   Yeah Mon,   Yeah Mon,   Yeah Mon !


Details | Haiku | |

Blue Russian

fill glass with some ice -
add vodka coffee liqueur -
now splash on the blue


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LOVE ON DEATH LINE

I have not eaten today,
But my heart is filled
Not hungry of affection.
I had a fill of you last night
A fill of you for a life time

All around us are walking corpses
Corpses of political disregard
Humans of no nations
Even when they are bona-fide citizens
Your blood and mine flows in them

The government abhors the poor
Feeds them with empty promises
Shoves them through the door
They pay the bills
For social amenities they can’t find
Pay taxes for their castles 
Government built in the air
But we know their ancestors
Filthy dogs eating from the king’s crumbs
No; Lets not unknot the knot
Soon a messiah might heed us

In heaven’s book of life,
I heard the poor names are there
In here’s book of life
It is deleted.
Thus, in your head,
Lays your kingdom and glory 
Get rich or die trying
Or; be their poor and keep sulking.

Well, like them I saw… 
I have not eaten
Flesh gone weak to skeleton
Nevertheless, 
The solitude of love within
Keeps me living; I am breathing
But I am moving,
Towards your direction
I see your beam

I feel new
When I see you
From my heart 
Seeps through the rays of the sun
Its fun; this love on death line
We survived the genocide
We survived the war
We survived love
We survived us
I love you too.

This poem is dedicated to the abused tribes of Rwanda and Nigeria during their respective civil wars resulting in near human annihilation. Though time has passed, we still feel your pains chilling our bones. The survivors.


Details | Verse | |

THE THINGS WE TAKE FOR GRANTED

The things that we take for granted
are the simple words we hold from our tongues,
much more thought should be given
to understand their deeper meaning...
have you said," Thank you. " to someone?


When I incidentally bump into people in the supermarket,
I say, " Sorry. " They smile back saying, " It's okay! "
That makes you realize that not all folks are rude....
yes, courtesy is another form of unseen kindness
that we should use more often to improve social behavior. 


When making a turn, give the right of way to pedestrians,
a courteous driver gets a stranger's smile on the way to work; 
even when there's no stop sign at the corner, let them cross,
they will react as the stranger did...remembering your gesture. 


Opening the door for anyone entering the store
makes that person's face light up with thankfulness,
and letting one go ahead of you when she or he has a couple of items,
shows your regard for that individual, never mind who's complaining behind! 
 

When riding the subway, train or bus on the rush hour which is entirely urban,
getting a seat is never easy...give yours to an older man or woman,
or an expecting one regardless of age...you'll surely get a flash of gratitude!
As you can see, the things that we take for granted can enrich our lives.
 


Details | Senryu | |

Can You Help Me I'm Lost

lost and weary soles
looking for their better half
at Auschwitz bone yard


Details | Cinquain | |

Skyline

skyline 
standing boldly
against golden beauty
heroes recalled today, always
vista


Details | Ballad | |

ITS MY TURN TO USE THE WRITTEN WORD

Being born in the postwar fifties,
after darkness and catastrophe
ascended on all Europe,
I didn't experience cruelty and horror... 
but hope came from the defenders of freedom
from North America and England;
and their military supremacy crushed
Hitler's vanity and his inhumane empire!
I was given birth by a courageous mother,
who saw bombs drop on buildings,
and escaped to the countryside with a few belongings...
dragging grandmother to safety!

Fear was everywhere...people had to hide,
and liberty was a forbidden cry;
even in the Vatican City, and rumors...
if not facts, confirmed that some
were afraid to speak against this evil,
but continued to tremble,
and in doing so they let many die!
Wasn't God angry at their hypocrisy;
and if they had taken a stand against the evildoers...
wouldn't it spared many?

It's my turn to protest the evil
that destroyed the life of big and small
for their faith, religion and race;
those voices are still ignored,
but  they are finally heard;  
their thirst for peace and justice
will be quickly quenched!
It's my turn to heal their wounds
with sweet and consoling words of kindness,
and alleviate their fears that what happened yesterday...
must not be repeated in our history;
and wil I be able to do this without facing controversy?
It's my turn to use the written word,
to outshine everyone whose interest is greed! 

Nobody more than I
was saddened by this tragedy,
so powerful and overwhelming,
to promptly modify the traits of my personality;
to be more considerate and caring,
and partake in Humankind's destiny!
An Aquarius has many
distinguishing qualities
and talents, and I intend to use them wisely...
listening to their struggles 
with much sympathy!
 
It's my turn to use the written word,
to declare war on the state of unfair things,
proceed with caution on flapping winds...
to land where I am welcomed,
and see every hand touching mine;
only when the their joy returns, I can certainly smile!


Details | Free verse | |

COLOURS OF DESPAIR

Images; pitiful black images
suckling frantically from dry, empty breasts.
Black eyes; wide open, fearful, but
mercifully blind to destiny's most unforgiving hand.

Victims:tormented by the incessant heat of the sun's bejewelled rays,
mercy is fleeting; uncompromising
shades of hopelessness cocoon innocent souls;
But Fate will cast its untimely shadow
Black is the colour of despair.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Kentucky Derby

So swift behooves...
in challenging quest...
competitive hearts...
race their best...

A treasure to win...
one measurable test...
for equine ones..
Churchills best.



Details | Free verse | |

A Summertime Stroll



Details | Free verse | |

The Drive

One must ascend approximately
Ninety-eight hewn stone stairs
To reach the hell that is
Forgetting what it means
To live at the bottom of the hill
Or one may forgo this education
And travel swiftly up and down
By automobile
Naming this purgatory life
And eternal bliss a television
Viewed from a leather couch
Artfully turned away from the window


Details | Rhyme | |

Oxymoronica-THE NAIVE OUTSIDER

New Yorkers are famous for walking too fast,
and it has become a sort of an ethnic trademark;
some may laugh...thinking it's funny, but it's a fact!
An outsider asked a tall, blond policeman near Central Park,
" Why  is everybody running? Is the President coming?"
And the mean-looking cop replied him with an intimidating voice,
" Are you an outsider...doesn't a New Yorker walk faster than any other folk?" 
And the naive fellow exclaimed, " No, I never knew that they raced like horses
to catch a train!"  But the policeman got really angry and yelling
ordered the poor guy, " Run with them...before I'll throw you in jail!"
And ran he did and he didn't have to get on any subway train!
So New Yorkers don't be offended...if I told this horrible joke!


Details | Alliteration | |

downing street

driving down downtown
  rain dots dancing
                     drooling down
               daydreams dally
                      dancing round
            distance  daunting
                      dipping down
                dewdrops draping
          drenching downdrops dripping
        damping rain
                 drooping down
               driving down around
                                  down town


Details | I do not know? | |

THESE STATES UNITED - PART II

How someone like you 
 
and me
 
could ever be
 
this forever free

Never say never

Ever
 
Oh say, can you see
 
this valiant righteous fight
 
of the tiny 13
 
against the giant gorgeous gallant might
 
of the Royal Crown
 

into that last gleaming
 
fluorescent
 
effortlessly seeming
 
twilight 
 
as American soldiers fell
 
and died
 
and their women 

and Lady Liberty

rang the bell
 
and cried
 
screaming
 
and the little ones 
 
so sound asleep
 
nestled in their bed
 
so peacefully dreaming
 
whilst their King 

while their King lay dead
 

Hear his deep voice echo over and over in your head
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said
 
as you lay there
 
missing and yearning
 
teaching and learning
 
freezing and burning
 
and tossing and turning
 
battledrums slow and become tribal
 
Yes, you too, remembers what he said:
 
"It is impossible to rightly govern a nation without God and the Bible"


 
So trumpeters blew and told 

their story
 
the drumboys rolled
 
out Old Glory
 
My God behold
 
Watch Old Glory
 
so dignified
 
unfold
 
Stars and Stripes 
 
thus signified

an Independence newfound
 

on Sacred, Sacred, Splendid, Sacred, Holy ground
 
Kneeling at ground Zero
 
Never forget
 
My, your, Our forgotten Hero

Ole' Father George pause and take a good look around
 
Ole' Father George steal the stars 
 
just this once

just in between
 
the glare of royal red rockets
 
and hand them to
 
the mighty 13
 
and the red stripes so soaked with blood
 
from our beloved Mother
 
across the pond

Sons no more, oh no, Mother 
 
There isn't any other
 

It’s me now - your new younger brother

Just passing through

the bright white rays of sunlight
 
into the big bold box of navy blue
 
into starry starry nights
 
Ole' Father George, our hopes ignited
 
Your legs so weary
 
Our dreams excited
 
Thank you, Ole' Father George
 
Thank you, God
 
God Bless These States United




Details | Senryu | |

Watching A Movie

watching a movie 
in a theater, with girlfriend
my heart’s beating fast


Details | Free verse | |

I'LL SMILE 4 U

Stroll through the Illest Empire
So much heat feeling like we’re living in the fire
But we’re living under fire
Tell me how many shots must it take before my loved ones are crying at my own wake
Its time for a break from sad eyes I’ve seen grown men cry
It hurts to tell a loved one good-bye
It’s the same reason why they died
Hearts just too full of pride
Mothers praying their young’n wont be a victim of a homicide
Too many drive-bys blood shed for a block you really can’t call mine
Wishing we could turn back time
High off of nickels’ and dimes
Making moves to boost your grind looking for hope
But the hustle got us in a head choke
Don’t blame me for acting crazy cause this how the streets made me and you
To watch our back and throw bows and cuss
Cause you got to be tough when times are rough
I know your asking when will enough be enough
And truth is I don’t know but this is how it goes down
But if I make it out will you smile for me now

So many families struggling with poverty
I don’t judge cause that use to be me
Watching mom come home late
Barley any food on our plate
So young and life we already hate
Praying God bring us something great
My clothes were cheap imitates and kids called you on them for being fake
Knowing mom bust her ass to provide
But all your knock offs you begin to hide
Ashamed of what you own
I know how you feel I been there too
I see mothers walking there kids to school
And the walk is far when you cant afford a car
Mom hoping one day you’ll be a star
I know about being next to poor
Your local neighborhood liquor market is your grocery store
Wishing you didn’t have to go through that living off of food stamps
Cube the neighborhood is a trap but we’ll all be free
So smile for you and me

Even 2pac said smile for me
This isn’t how its always going to be unless you let it be
In our different way we’re all a G
Cause we’re trying to make it straight legit
Whatever your hustle never quit but don’t lose yourself in it
Cause you still got a long ways to go
Still got a long time to grow
Use what you know to get by or you wont survive
Remember to always keep your dreams alive
Whatever it is just do it and never try
The limit is the sky so keep your heads held high
And when you come to a hard road just always know nothing can keep you down
You’ll be able to come back around
So give yourself a chance
And I’ll smile for you now

JUNE ‘06
B.K.M.jr


Details | Haiku | |

Triple Delight

Sweetened fair caress
Dreaming sallow mountaintops
Bleached yummy delight

Mello crimson mix
Sensing scarlet falling leaves
Mouthwatering pleasure

Russet mixed within
Cheerless delighting nature
Succumbs emotions


written for
Sponsor Poet Destroyer ~ A  
Contest Name Neapolitan Ice Cream (HAIKU) 


Details | Free verse | |

Somewhere Between Wedded Bliss Street and Family Man Drive

Don't fear me.
My problems are 
not contagious.
Years ago I was 
like you.
My home was beautiful.
My family was everything.
Somewhere between 
Wedded Bliss Street
and Family Man Drive
I took a wrong turn.

It's not as easy as you think
to turn back around.
'Just get a job! '
is as simple as 
answering the 'Meaning of life'.
An address is needed for a job...
yet a job is needed for an address.
Without one or the other
where is the hope? 

You think I look 
frightening.
Maybe if you actually saw me
you would see that
I look
frightened.

I don't want a handout
but I'm in no position
to refuse it.
I need your help, 
your compassion, 
your faith, 
and your friendship.

I can get myself going
in the right direction again.
All I need is a little help
while I round the corner.
Then watch me fly.


Details | Blank verse | |

dress revolution

The dress Revolution 
Sometimes the longing for the past is like a constant 
hunger by the underfed. Summers were endless and 
I was the first to wear shorts and sandals in town; 
had bought them in Aruba, coming off a ship going 
home I met my mother and sister, they were shocked
no one dressed frivolous back then. I wore a T. shirt
 too on it was written: “I Love New York.” 
Mother thought I ought to change into long trouser, 
wear a proper shirt, preferable white, and tie, sister 
was impressed though. I loved my youth to be different
from the norm. But time was changing fast, five years 
on everyone wore shorts and had long hair, Jogging in 
the park I was the only one, now you can´t walk for joggers.
I started this revolution, but where is my plaque?  


Details | Lyric | |

Someday

“Someday”
Why is “someday” such a sad word?
When one like “never” is so much worse?
Why....why “someday”?

“Someday!”
Why is “someday” such a sad, sad word?
Perhaps the saddest one I’ve ever heard...
Why “someday”?

Everybody
has somebody
Except me, it seems
but that's not why I want to leave

So out of it
feel “out of it”
Never was in
can't find the way 

"Life’s one big bluff
Keep a straight face
Don’t let ‘em see your cards."

Yeah, life’s one big God-forsaken bluff
and I’m about to jump off

Someday, I thought you’d find me
Someday, I thought you’d love me
But someday ....
...someday......
someday NEVER CAME

“Someday,” they say, “You’ll find somebody.”
“Someday, you will be happy.”
“Someday, life will mean something.”
But someday I'll be SICK of waiting

Someday, you’ll see why it can’t be
Someday we’ll ALL be sorry
One day
sweet day
I’ll find my way 
out of this body.

http://vimeo.com/26557410


Details | Quatrain | |

Tall Tales

With muse in hand I must come up with great stories
That it keeps it's seeker longing for more of it's caption
free verse sonnet haiku or just stopping on by
I'm sure that there's something you may find very interesting




Tribute To Writers Here At
P.S.

Also Entry For 
Brian Strand's
Poulter's Measure
GL All


Details | Rhyme | |

Rats for Phones

Rats for Phones

Medieval Hamelin, so they say
Was rat infested so one day
The town folks, though with shady hype
Hired a Piper and his pipe
And rid the town of rats he did
But he also piped away each kid
So it is today in a South African town
Alexandria has run aground
It’s rat infested with all types
And there’s no Piper now who pipes
But you still can hear the Piper’s tones
In the city sponsored free cell phones
For if you turn in 60 rats
You get a cell phone and congrats
They’re killing rats there by the score
In hopes there soon would be no more
But signs say this stunt could backfire
As there is now some public ire
The activists for animal rights
Have got the city in their sights
And they’ve condemned this initiative
Saying even rats have the right to live
Where will this end – I have no clue
But if you had rats what would you do
If you’re like me, let it be known
We’d have ourselves a new cell phone

Mdailey	11/5/12 


Details | I do not know? | |

South Mumbai #2: Horniman Circle at Break of Day

The blush of the early morning sun
Brings out the toilers to their toes.
Like myriad ants they crawl about,
Each one at his morning chores.

The open space, the parking lot
Or the narrow footpath tracks
Find these sub-human men
Squatting on their backs.

Each one calls to his own God,
Picks himself somehow clean,
Puts to shame the haughty priests;
Piety more is rarely seen.

The morning ablutions all then done,
Each one girds up to face the day.
Hustling, touting, scheming, shouting-
Before sundown to make their hay,


Details | ABC | |

Read All About It

READ ALL ABOUT IT


Stories all of 100
years old
Bribery And
Blackmail
They have to be
retold

Definitions of words
have surely changed
as Kilts And Reefers
are now explained.

Two Kinds Of Success
stories
That Work Both Ways
Stealing From Cities
and the Faithful
Toby way

No Poison In The
Wallpaper
is History Rewritten
With A Humble Helper
and Powerful
Competition

Like a Scene In A
Play
The Counterpane Got
Smutty
He Raised The Bid
today
was a story so funny

Striking A Light was
crazy amazing
but Obeying The
Order became
disgracing

Drunk Pennies
Justice
is a true story
indeed
Like A Woodpecker’s
Justice
and Another Pair Of
Sleeves

Wakening In The
Forest
while Lost In The
Fog
and a Costly
Breakfast
for you and your dog

We learn of
Unreasonable Anger
and How Best To
Prepare
The story of Tree
Planters
and Village Gossip
between pairs

Stories of over a
hundred years
Let us watch them
all right here
With many bringing
you to tears
Taking you back
through the years



By:
Doris Anne Beaulieu
At:
https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme2






Details | Elegy | |

Sketch

 To make a new experience,
once I thought to walk down my home,
from Esplanade to Tollygaunge….. 
 
I crossed the Chowrungee
& walked down the foot of the Grand,
I saw an oldman to his daily daydreams',
eyes to the heaven - and hands to the earth,
leaning there to the marble pillar beside the Bata-showroom.
I crossed him and hundreds passed by,
thousands looked at him
and rest, running to the new market's new brand.
 
Little further I went…
infront of the Indian Museum,
there I saw a woman, with her child in the warmth of her arms,
sitting there crying for her life and praying for her child,
but, none looked down to the present,
rather, eager to know the legends,
and hundreds came out by the history;
rest were still in the museum,
in the future through the time machine.
 
I went on, walking down by the foot,
crossed the road and  further a two minutes of walk,
as I headed to the Victoria Memorial Hall-
the beautiful marble palace and its calm surrounding,
there the couples making their day, and ,
one making a sketch of that beautiful marble architecture,
but, none could make a sketch of that little baby's heart…
who's clothings were only his naked body,
crying for little shelter and thirst for mother's breast milk. 
He was born to make a new life,
and he's lying there for someone could sketch his lost life.
 
I realized then ,
what I thought of an experience to walk down to my home,
from Esplanade to Tollygaunge,
is an experience to make a sketch….
of the real life,
 in Kolkata.


Details | I do not know? | |

Metropolitan Inferno

Rusty rotten dirty domes,
Wound the Heaven’s azure heart,
Chimneys’ souls rise to part,
Black giants’ filthy foams.

Metal hooting centipedes,
Pierce the hills’ rocky chest.
Shaking the jungles’ breast,
Roaring saw on trunk feeds.

Life’s teasing irony,
Knife to cut on the barks
Save trees in the parks!
Man’s mocking destiny...


Details | ABC | |

Ode To Everything We Take For Granted

We all know what living is
We all had our lives given to us.
On a silver platter, a road for life mapped out for us,
but we aren't always serious
about the people near and dear to us,
because we're usually delirious about the life we take for granted.

When we have roofs over our heads
and sheets on our bed 
then how come on the streets people
are frozen with defeat and have to compete for some food.

How can we watch people's lives fall when they stand against a wall with a sign?
No use at all, praying to god as their pride crumbles.

We watch them stumble with their heads down low and nowhere to go and I think,
Where is the kindness planted?
Why do we take our lives for granted?

How could we stoop so low while we live in houses they have nowhere to go
- couldn't we lend them something...
Oh no, one person could make a difference if they spoke out loud
show their faces to the crowd.
A difference could be made
all of us could be of aid.

So dear reader I hope you see
the message that coming from me
and as I've gone on and almost ranted
Why do we take our lives for granted?!


Details | Rhyme | |

Coffee on Gleneagles

I used to live here
in the ambience of free spirits
watching roads rushed by fuschia cars
and socialites mingling in the next door bar.

Sipping on my gelado
with friends around the table
taking in the aroma
of perfected arabian beans.

Bougainvillaes shadow us
as we sit here enjoying the day
local bands fill up our ears
whilst they sing and strum away.

Such a saccharine place
with colour air and sun
a smile on everyone's face
the day has just begun.


Details | Free verse | |

Border area (Grenzgebiet)

"This bilingual poem is for people who live between two borders and who have two decide
everyday how to manage their day between bombs and hatred, even if they want to live in
peace."


>Grenzen<
erscheinen grenzenlos,
wenn grenzenlose Wut
gebieterisch Hass schürt
und sich dennoch
ehemals begrenzte Gemüter
dem Grenzfreien öffnen,
um so die Grenzwälle
zwischen Grenzen zu sprengen,
um endlich grenzfrei zu sein.

>Borders<
seem to be boundless
if boundless rage
stirs up immeasurably hatred
and nevertheless
erstwhile limited people
open their minds for borderfree thinking
for blowing up the border walls
between frontiers
to be finitely boundless.


Details | Quatrain | |

Read Earth

Harsh beauty spreading far and wide
Mother's creation by nature's own bride
Iron grain canvas under bright atmosphere
Where arid, baked land meets water cool and clear

Streaming cruel heat reigns over all
Beating down on a land held in subjugating thrall
Parched artistry spreads over miles of land
Rocks, hills and animals, and course shifting sands

Fevered earth burns on an unshod sole
Trees give sparse shade to those who stroll
Along a path, that's been walked by few,
Over millennia past; now awash with soul's residue

Land red with iron and actions abhorred
With laughter and bitterness, with hope deeply stored
A vast stunning world, a back drop so grand
A future and history that's held in the land


Details | Rhyme | |

I'm Not A Politician

I’m Not A Politician… There’s one thing that I make no pretention. I’m in no way what you’d call a “politician.” I don’t try to get involved in the “politics of the day.” But I do try to listen to what God has to say! I’m not interested in what numbers the polls will bring. I’d rather trust Jesus, who can take care of everything! The good news, is that the bad news is all wrong! My life with Christ, is where I certainly belong! Christ is my hope and focus! I’d rather believe him! I don’t trust what I watch or hear from the news men! In God’s kingdom there are no politics involved! Every problem facing me.. Christ already solved! I want Jesus to be my life’s focus and attention! May the Holy Spirit guide me into a Godly direction! With Jesus in my heart… I’m joyful and glad! I know I’ll never see him in a political ad! He is and will always be the one that I’ll need! He’s not corrupted by wickedness and greed! No matter how you may believe this world will end! Christ will always be the one you trust and depend! You don’t have to wait for a ballot to come to you! Vote for Jesus today! His presence is all around you! There’s no limit to the terms of life he’s giving! He’ll bless you within and give everlasting living! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Quatrain | |

BIG TOWN YOUNGSTER'S DREAMS

So alone and pensive, he stares at the paved, glaring square below
admiring an elegant lady strolling by...
with a vibrant spirit in his blood, his enthusiasm will flow;
what kind of reward will he have, if he doesn't try?


Young man, have you done enough to get ahead in life?
Oh, you desire a marriage and many kids;
they will come through fortitude and sacrifice...
put aside every useless fear and beat all the odds!


Big town youngsters' dreams are awaiting release
from a heart, which will see his dream realized...
when triumph, fortune and glee will never cease;
he stands at the balcony with a look so mesmerized! 


Entered in Iolanda Scripca's contest,
" Untold Secrets "


Details | Imagism | |

WELCOME TO DELHI

Revived to pop out as an empty nester 
To accompany a newfangled life
Maneuvered all the way for a change of state
I dropped my bags and willed at country’s metropolis. 

The heirloom edifices occupying moiety of acreage
Glossy crisscross roads and extended overpass
Spic-and-span subway and the rushy blue line coaches
Voguish three wheeled fares and snuggled DDA flats
Yet an open blue sky and extreme deuce climate.

The forenoon snarl – up and the crowded massed bus
The traffic and the driver’s clapper claw
The border red signal and the busy CP
College bunkers to gates of malls
Unitedly a fussy horologe. 

Where educatees hitting lectures and employes cogitating
Schemers contriving at the parliament
Few couples could be sighted antithetic though 
And rest chewing the fat.

Republic march at the red fort
And the day break Jama Masjid prayer,
Incised India Gate boswell and
The eventide light show at akshardham.
Elementses unidentified at Qutub Minar
And the muteness dwelled at the lotus temple,
Savaged kingdom at Tuglakabad
And exquisite ambiance of Humayun tomb,
Concisely a grand metropolis
Envied world-wide. 
  
Revived to pop out as an empty nester 
To accompany this newfangled life
Maneuvered all the way for a change of state
I dropped my bags and willed at country’s metropolis. 


Details | Couplet | |

Get A Rope

Gun slinger
    Matt Zinger

Dressed in black
     Didn't come back

High Noon
    Was Doomed

Quick Draw
      McGraw

Got A Rope
   Hung that dope

Undertaker Called
    Dead Body Hauled

Poured the whisky
     From Junction 60

Dead Man's Trail
  Where slingers failed









Details | Blank verse | |

Escape From The Planet Of The Apes

Midnight plus fifteen, the streets come alive,
Spilling tattooed mobs, teeming motion-blurred
From the bars, karate and kung-fu moves in car parks
And upon telephone kiosk phone books.

Kebabs stinking of extra onion, chilli and garlic sauce,
Soaking up beer and chasers, churning innards;
Chinese takeaway cartons slung in gutters,
Spraying noodles and rice with random artistry.

Spiralling fumes of vindaloo, popadums and naan
Swirl, snake, samba under neon rain;
CCTV super models, skirts no more than belts
Hiked under hips, distended abdomens drooping with gravity.

Navels pierced, studded, impaled with fake silver,
Flesh faintly turning green-tinged;
The high heeled stagger continues at ankle-breaking
Precariousness; teetering and stumbling, acrobatically drunk.
 
Swimming heads reject the motion sickness,
And vomit starts to rise, disgorged, spattering the wet paving
With rainbows of liquid colour abstraction,
Trickled with a gleeful pale amber stress incontinent stream.

It’s easy for a casual observer to plead for escape from
This planet of the apes, but have a heart – they’re young,
Free and doomed beyond all relative conception.
Why not be cool, have fun?


Details | Free verse | |

DECASTICH-THE WISEST ONE

Seeing others doing harmful things,
excessively drinking and using hard drugs,
I say this road is the wisest one
a very prudent individual could ever take, 
hoping that nobody will lay flowers 
on that spot, where a horrible crash may occur.
Perhaps I've been too cautious...
when it comes to save what I hold most precious,
not afflicting useless pain on my body;
only praying to God to safeguard me. 


This afternoon, I visited my niece Crystal in Elmurst Hospital,
as she and her four friends were involved in a bad accident;
the driver, who had a legal alchool level in her blood, crashed 
into a light pole last Sunday morning; were they all drinking?
That's a mere speculation, but this kind of behavior is common
among teenagers; Asia, the driver of the car, is into a coma slowing improving. 
Crystal has a broken leg and fractured pelvis, begging nurses for help; 
and she is in acute pain and can hardly breath. Elisabeth is on a respirator...
due to a blood clot traveling to her lungs; the other two girls have minor injuries.


What does it take for irresponsible drivers not to be under the influence....
avoiding the mourning of a dear one, or even losing their own life?
Not many folks will heed this message...until they face death,
and nothing can be done to prevent them from diying.
Trongs of visitors crowd the hall, to inquire about their condition;
they hear their agony and are unable to help...ah, if they ever could!
So will you take that path which is the wisest one to avoid a possible tragedy,
or continue defying fate until its awfully late to enjoy a full life?
Their parents are as helpeless as I, but our faith makes hope grow...
that these kids will finally understand that a second chance is not given to all.



This horrible accident happened in Woodhaven, Queens, NY on August 15, 2010.


Details | Narrative | |

Driven

I wandered around for years
in odds and ends
not knowing what to do with myself
unchartered territory just waiting for me
to discover
undecided in which way to go
open road to freedom
impulsive escape driven 
by extremes in nature
erratic in behavior
in the spur of the moment running away
from the mundane routine of existence.

A change of pace from everyday rat race
always in a hurry to get ahead
on the highway of life
searching for a new scenic route
through small towns and quaint little shops
worth exploring along side streets
with windows rolled down
music blasting out loud
enjoying the view of the countryside
a smile on my face feeling free
from the city lights of shades drawn in boredom.


Details | Free verse | |

Dance

My baby
My precious
My warm and glowing light
I cannot seem to sleep at night
For dreaming while I'm awake.

I dream of the kindness I see in your eyes
And I yearn to be able to hold you.
I dream of what Dubai is gonna look like
And how happy I think I'm gonna feel
Complete.
Content

Radiant.

Over and over I say your name, and only because it brings its you I've fallen in love with.
Suki
My Suki
You
are my
Suki!
Lol, my friend I can't say it enough and I absolutely love it.
Love you.

Aw man, if ever there were words, I'd sing them to you.
If only there were actions that showed you strong enough, I would do nothing else but
dance them for you.

But let me tell you this, my sweet love.
I have my whole life to sing
My whole life to dance
My whole life to dream.

And I want nothing more than to spend my life doing those things with you.


Details | Free verse | |

The Insufferable History of a Place

Sitting on a sun-ripened block
colossal.
Sitting in the sun again
I try to control
and strip my clothes,
look my best
for the Colossus of Rhodes.

If I could be satisfied and told
of a refresh of feeling and sense:
the intimacy of this heat.
If I could be battered and rolled
and leavened like sourdough-

but this is mine alone.
The uneventful cold
and safety of home is lost
to the North – these outside rooms
make me sweat and slow

this feels nothing like a room,
nothing like the bold industry
of an air-conditioned hole,
and I have never been so wet
and on display;
this is more the lucid glass
of an inveterate fishbowl.

Above me,
the canopy bails out sun
and fights and tries to fill
this bloating, oily green:
a raging furnace burning fervent
with windows, door and roof
open to the colder night.

But wind cannot displace the intimate sun,
the leaves cannot shade,
and what shade remains
will not guard
against the Yard’s invective gaze.


Details | Free verse | |

City Street Blues

salty blues
and Saturday’s news
begs the difference between
the candlelit alters
and the sunlit corners

where the timid mingle
with insane masses
of different classes
and intellectual
solace
is revealed in song

the rhythm of 
empty bucket drummers
sets the pace of the 
blind blues hummers
and the picking of eight
year old prodigies
of the jazz guitar

imitations of statues
from silver to copper
surprise the passersby
as the light reflects
in a down turned eye
to where the hungry
sit and cry

the money jingles in pockets
of consumers
and blends with the beat of 
air brake pauses
mixed with the cries of children
and the laughter of hookers
and the heartbeats
of peddlers
with maps to the stars

yes the blues is fluid
and flows in city streets
among the down and out
and the up on their luck
with those chasing the Jones’
and those making ends meet
the blues is like breathing
and refreshes in every breath
as the equality of rhythm
leads each to their death
and the beat goes
on and on


Details | I do not know? | |

Camping grounds

Here lay the cabins, neatly lined in a row. Here lies the forest, surrounding us head to toe as we roast marshmallows and giggle as we eat smores, telling old horror stories passed down from generation to generation. The camp bells blare early in the morning all around the camp grounds signaling us off into the lake, the lake, the lake, the lake. Sounding us off into the dazzling lake.


Details | Free verse | |

jump rope

there’s a curve 
at the end of every sidewalk 
did you know every block’s 
measured by the lazy way a rope
skips and ponytails itself down its own street?
my, how my rope bends
alongside that straight line
six inches above what you call a ‘curb’ under my knees
falling and rising under my feet


Details | Free verse | |

Odin's Birds/Walking the Wall

Pulled one perfect day from the heart of summer,
Went with my wife, the kids, a friend
Down to cruise the monuments
To study those menhirs we set for marking passage
Into collective memory.

We ascended the virile spire
Erected in honor of our ponytailed First Elect,
The children pleased to gaze out on a toy city below us.

We descended and walked down the long flat mirror of water
To where Lincoln, strong and sad in bronze
Sits forever troubled by his sundered nation
In his cool, dark, echoing vault.

Then lunch, and a visit to the commemoration of our most recent sorrow;
We cross over and walk the Wall.

     Row on row,
     Stark white upon shining black
     The rollcall of the dead processes by.

     It's crowded today, but no one speaks
     The silence here is a crashing thing that falls all around us
     As we walk and search
     Some for names, some for answers,
     Some for both, or neither
     Ourselves for I know not what.

And in the black
Flowing past the names, and names, and names
This perfect day hangs captured in its light:
Cotton clouds on blinding blue
Grass greener than new money
The faces of children, dogs
And a parade of young couples -
It all hangs there, flowing over the terrible list,
Reminding all how they should be here too,
Those not-so-long-ago lost.

But then, in a sense, they are here
And that's why the silence crashes so.

     58,000 empty chairs are here.
     58,000 phantoms,
     The Bad Conscience of a good nation.

     58,000 Not-To-Bes are here:
     Not-To-Be husbands, fathers, family, friends
     Not-To-Be Victories and Not-To-Be Dreams
     58,000 horrors of Loss.

In the midst of these shuddering reveries
My blissfully distracted 7 year-old son
Plucks a small, perfect feather off  the lawn,
As black and glossy as the wall itself,
And carries it idly along.



Once out, we stop to talk with one of the Fallen's many advocates,
A great Viking of a man who notices the feather
Who says right away,
"Ah, a raven's feather. Odin's birds, who bring him Wisdom and Rememberance."

I saved the feather, knowing what I do of ravens:
Those sombre, croaking birds,
First on the field after battle

I stroked its silky black and wished
Odin's birds would visit the common folk more often
And croak to us of Remembrance, and Wisdom.


Details | Lyric | |

Arno Vale

Arno Vale
Bristol’s Necropolis
City of the Dead
Where the dead and living
In the daytime co-exist.

The path leads full circle
Around the tomb stones, chapels and trees
Tombstone white and bright in the sun
The trees decorated, woollen colours

Booted families trudge through the trees
Others visit the café and the gift shop
All this life in the garden of the dead
It seems almost pagan, in a Christian way
Reminding us of their marriage

The winter sun shines without warmth
Through the trees, the leaves still on the ground
Solitude without loneliness that is what is here
The dead not buried and forgotten;
But, with nature and the living instead.


Details | Fibonacci | |

Whistle While You Work

when
when
I first 
stared at this
woman rocking
I wanted to start whistling






James Abbot McNeill Whistler
Whistler's Mother  { 1871 }  Wikipedia



Also Brians Strand's Entry 
Sequence Fibonacci Imagist Contest


Details | Rhyme | |

Good Luck Waitress

For a little c-note, will you stay by me a while?
You have turned my luck, and it is raising my pile.
My fortunes have been so lousy in this joint.
Since you came by, the shooter is making his point.
I know you have customers waiting for their drinks.
You probably think my logic and reasoning stinks.
Will another bill be enough to keep you by my side?
My luck is good now, and I do not want to be denied.
I am almost even again and nearly out of harm.
Come on cutie, stay and be my good luck charm.


Details | Free verse | |

Raining Bullets & Blood

I suggest,
You leave while you can,
This city is filled to the brim,
Everyone wants to win,
When they lose themselves-
In the end,
The city,
It is infested,
Criminals roam every walk;
Non-reformed,
Never charged,
Or plagued with repetition,
One day,
A bullet will stray,
If I stay,
It might be me,
You see,
In Philadelphia,
It rains bullets,
Bullets and blood.


Details | Rhyme | |

We The People

The nimble light holds promise true
On shadowed ground in shades of blue
With hurtful melody in ringing ears
On hollowed ground soaked in tears

A mother’s whisper through deafening moans
On broken shores in broken homes
With numbers mounting on pockets dry
We deny thy maker and curse the sky

With eel’s black sight and trembling hand
Glass tears flesh of the earthly damned
An evermore prophecy of things to come
Beachly contemplation induced by rum

A raven’s call and crow’s remorse
A gentleman’s smile with erotic force
With infinite burns of holy pleasure
Inverted sanity described in measure

Confiding in august with justice undone
Rain never mourns the loss of a son
And potter’s creation is easily folded
Illusional fate children have molded


Details | Narrative | |

Invisible Music

My ears are ringing, singing
to the tune of invisible music
as I fall into bed after a
short, scalding shower after a
long, exhausting night of dancing at the clubs
after I left the game with that beautiful,
beautiful young black-haired lady after
I spirited her away from her friends in an old sedan
after I called to see if it was okay after
I spent an agonizing hour eating in silence in a
restaurant with my friends who all had dates
after she called to say she couldn’t come,
her little sister needed her, her friends were coming over,
after I thought we’d set our plans into stone
after we spent hours on the phone talking the night away
after I had asked her to Homecoming,
after I had first laid eyes on her,
after I had changed my schedule from Film
Studies to Creative Writing
on a whim.


Details | Free verse | |

Complaining

Complain. Complain; COMPLAIN.
They do it for all to see in disdain.
Drama, Drama, Drama, DRAMA,
Take it all back to your Mama.

Complaining about their job,
They hate it; They hate co-workers.
Getting angry, beginning to Sob,
They are all slackers and lurkers.

They Hate job; They get No satisfaction.
No benefits I receive as a Worker.
No one Here that meets Classification,
Yes, even my Boss completely Quirkier.


Complain, Complain, Drama AGAIN.
They do it everyday, Such A Sin.
Drama, Drama, Complaining to All,
Running, Running, to get another Call,

Why, Why do they stay To Complain?
They do it to be Unhappy in Vain.
Drama of Life, Work, just to COMPLAIN,
Needing Turmoil, DRAMA, on Their Brain,


Details | Sestina | |

WHEN A TEEN DISOBEYS

When a teen disobeys,
innocence becomes insolance,
but malice is caused by exernal influence;
banners with explicit sexual indulgence,
conversations with obscene words
and gestures that can offend passerbys.


There are signs that can detect
any danger, watch the sexy way they dress:
tight clothing and that glamorous look
so irrisistable and provoking; and it
may not go unnoticed, and some teasers
even approve of it...adding to their lustful taste.


Even before modern times left their indecent mark,
these teens had a plan to run from home,
hop on train or bus and head for the big cities; 
and on those thriving sidewalks, the predators 
wait and they know how despair can turn into need,
an urgent need to survive...to eat and sleep.


Beautiful children, why do you constantly disobey,
and refuse to listen to your parents and elders,
who were raised in kindness, respect and dignity? 
Innocent children, before that delusional fantasy
steals away more irreplaceable dreams...ask yourselves:
shouldn't a dream, such as yours, be trashed? 
          

Unpack your back-packs and stay in a wam environment,
before silly thoughts become your biggest fear
and you will follow them to their destructive end...
not ever feeling any absence of the parental heart,
where there is a happy home you don't consider 
the greatest place to nurture love with loving cheer. 


When a teen disobeys,
love loses its profound defination...
as its pure essence is taken away by the rampant indignation
of an embittered truant: cursing, mocking justice,
stealing to feed bad habits, and in doing so they allow grief
to overcome joy, and replace it with a tragic death.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Light Poetry | |

' The Poets' Day, At The Beach ... '

The  Men, Rolled In … Like Ocean Waves
The Women, Splashed and Sprayed and Splayed
And Laughed and Cried In Salty, Foam-Crests
In Liquid-Blue, Up To Our Breasts …
On Bright, Shine Afternoons …
Or In Fog, Floating In From Coasts, Subdued

And The Men Rolled In … Like Ocean Waves
Playing and Surging, Roaring Out Praise
Buoyed High, Bobbing Up and Down
So Quick, So Strong, The Men Swam …
And Women, Wet in Swimsuits
Carried Away Corals and Seashells, As Loot

Putting Them To Our Ears, Everyday
To Hear What Echoes of Sea, Had To Say
And On Soft, Crystal Sand, Pearls, We Did Lay
As The Men, Rolled In … Like Ocean Waves …


Details | Quatrain | |

THE RAPTURE OF MANHATTAN

The entire island of Manhattan is being swiftly raptured
by a heavenly force, the Harbor is badly shaken...
it seems that Judgement Day has come as prophesied;
there Lady Liberty still holds her torch, before it's gone!


If this vision is true fiction, how awful the real event will be
with Lady Blind Justice and Lady Fairness with a set of scales;
they are standing on the terrestrial globe to warn the stubborn Human race,
which has contributed to this state of chaos...defiling morality and honesty! 


So terrified are the seagulls that called this haven their home, a real bliss;
the Big Apple's greatness has vanished from sight...like everything else;
Atlantis disappeared into the depths of the ocean, Manhattan's wealth 
is taken back by the Almighty to punish the evil ones, and reward the just!


Entered in Carolyn Devonshire's contest, " Phoenix Rising "


Details | Quintain (English) | |

Pentastich-NO PITY FOR THE JEWS

They were once enslaved in idolatrous Egypt,
and Moses led them out of that wicked land,
when the Third Reich came to power in Europe,
Hitler deepened his hatred for them; no nation 
dared to save them, so their extermination began.


They were locked in the cramped rooms of concentration camps,
later burned in gas chambers, then thrown into mass graves;
their human lives were worthless to him, and many walked
into those darkened chambers filled with the stench of death,
holding their children so afraid and shivering in the bitter cold.


In the windowless rooms with bankers beds, scary eyes roved in darkness:
in there, life was a flickering candle kept alive by an incredible faith,
and God in His immense mercy, descended here to comfort them...
while the Evil One continued to spread death and fear among nations;
no documents were found, but piles of corpses witnessed those atrocities.
 



Details | Haiku | |

The Snare~

Roma  lassies dance
charming the robust to feast~
pickpockets count gold
 


Details | Verse | |

Liberian Sky

Harsh is the wind of Sahara,
Serrated by grains of dusty sands,
Stripping flesh from the bones of the dead,
Kalishnikovs gripped in their skeleton hands.
Child-soldiers trained as assassins,
Magazines slotted in like building blocks,
Smooth as silk, this gun never jams,
It musically clicks as the catch unlocks.
Itchy were the trigger fingers,
Calloused from teasing the guarded steel,
The psychopathy of poverty teaches
Kill what you can, kid, that’s the deal.
Dead lie the innocent children,
Dead as the sprawl of the desert terrains,
Conflict diamonds as payment
Fired Washington bullets into their brains.
Harsh is the land of corruption,
And black the nocturnal Liberian sky,
The blood in the moonlight drying
Seems equally black in the white of the eye.


Details | I do not know? | |

City Life for The Masses

The loo enters during summers,
The chill penetrates in the winters
 
The ceiling leaks during monsoons,
The mosquitoes sting like harpoons
 
Came to the city with many dreams
From the lands of plains, valleys & streams
 
Came to the city, to earn a living, with wishes
The mirage of untold, unforeseen riches
 
(The City) Pulled them into its greedy claws,
Hiding it’s own weaknesses, it’s flaws
 
What have they become here, now?
Forced to make their heads bow,
 
As a driver, sweeper or domestic help
Confined to their lowly class, like a slave’s whelp
 
Ridiculed, raped, beaten, manipulated
Was it in their fate, to be cheated?
 
Were they not happy, in their valleys, their farms?
What drove them to the city, in great swarms?
 
Will they ever go back, escape?
Or will the city life forever hold them agape?


Details | Ottava rima | |

WAR SEEN THROUGH A YOUNGSTER'S EYES

Born in that historical and eventful year
when changes were sweeping this country,
peace songs were heard in the scary, tumultuous air...
not realizing the dear cost for the quest of liberty
when soldiers would have gone to a foreign land so far,
to defend what others thought was sheer folly!
And their blood was shed in jungles and on dusty roads,
never feeling selfish pride by carrying the heaviest loads.


And from those sad and tragic memories,
my lyrics were written and sung to myself
with the hope of revealing them with teary eyes...
remembering what took for them to face pain without relief
and whenever letters were delayed in the mail mothers
began to fear the worst, if not a horrible death...
many went to churches and synagogues to ask God for mercy,
and yes He heard their pleas, but war had no clemency.


Many of those soldiers were given Purple Hearts
for their remarkable courage to have confronted danger without surrendering to the enemy,
others were forgotten in wheelchairs without legs and arms,
and they wept with no one offering comfort, warmth and sympathy...
but on those heart so proud of their Motherland they wore American flags,
unable to forget their commitment when they were asked to fight for their beloved country.
O brave soldiers, if no medals or honors were given you...let me reward you for your fright:
by erasing all the atrocity of bloody scenes that still are troubling your longest, coldest night. 
    


Details | Free verse | |

So-Called Good Christians

You have made a choice. 
You have chosen hatred. 
In our Heavenly Father, 
you have chosen not to rejoice. 
He is who spares the most awful dread. 
  
You have chosen to hate me. 
First it was the “N” word, 
the Afro comment, 
and my curly hair. 
Now you hate me 
for the religion 
that I have chosen to be. 
My faith gives me what is right and fair. 
  
I pity you for all your hate. 
But you made it clear my fate. 
A Mormon to this date, 
a Mormon forever. 
Your rage and hate 
prove my faith and 
choice of religion right. 
Your bigoted hatred
I have chosen to fight 
by giving it light. 
I want it 
in everyone's sight. 
  
Your rage and hatred is your only boast. 
But with it you are engrossed. 
Like you, your rage and hatred 
are nothing but compost. 
Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit 
gives me what I need the most. 
  
And for you, that is just 
too bad so sad. 
  


Details | Free verse | |

God Save The Minute Men

The squelching heat has of no effect
on the air-conditioned Minute Men
as they survey the desert land.
Keeping ever vigilant 
against the alien brown skins
that endlessly cross their borders. 
These pressed khaki pant militias
devoutly scour the arid passageways
equipped with bottled water,
binoculars, and cell phones.
Guarding the roads
to the ancient canyons of the Navajo 
and the Peabody Mining Company.
Or through the Mexican Missions 
that predate California.
Territory good Anglo American's 
recently inherited
from the parents of rape and murder.
God bless America
and God save the Minute Men.



Dean Walker


Details | Free verse | |

Societies Maggots

Feeding hands of western promises
hold children by the throat.
See salvation die in porcelain tears,
shed from broken accords.
Innocence betrayed on altar of success.
A thousand Hail Mary’s won’t erase this sin.

Fingers resting on pulse of destruction,
a crack in the seal of Pandora’s box.
Old soldiers, cruising, trying to pick up a war,
while night angels gaze into despair.
Ancient enemies raise peroxide standards,
sweeping blame under histories carpet.
Alleys sing with shrapnel, 
detonating a temporary hell,
and some young solider returns a hero
upon the gravestone, his name immortalized.

Swollen bellies cry for freedom
as they cling to threads of life.
Silenced by butt of tyrants gun,
smashing tomorrows thoughts.
~all in the name of progress~

Charon takes loans to pay the passage
on fast track to heavens gate.
Peter’s list grows shorter
while demons cry from the pulpit,
“room for one more”.

Responsibility drowned on a Saturday night,
fighting the flood of vodka and coke.
Where love is measured in one night stands.
In queues outside the abortion clinics,
morning after pill eases the conscience 
of a generation that doesn’t care.

Wallowing in self-pity,
taking pills to ease the pain,
in a world that owes us everything.

Yet we give nothing in return. 


Details | Sonnet | |

Minnesota Nice

The great upper mid west
Minnesota put to the test
Ten thousand lakes and streams
Reality for many who like to dream


From Itasca state park
To the Louisiaina's wooden bark
The mighty Mississippi flows
Gently down the outcrop she goes


Crime rates are always's on the rise
But really does it come as such a surprise
Everyone seems to like to hug
Except when its a mosquito bug


So many call us Minnesota Nice
But some still say were Cold as Ice




Details | Free verse | |

Our footprint

City lights making it as bright as day,
City lights hiding all but the brightest stars,
Ugly stores crowding the streets, 
The ground paved with tar,
No birds can be heard singing above the noise of traffic,
Bigger,
Bigger we build,
Engineers and architects building,
Designing bigger,
Exhaust fumes make the air stink,
We want bigger,
Yes we have buildings that scrape the sky,
Housing developments where fields and forests once were,
We want this and that,
But we never stop and think about,
Our footprint on this earth,
What we are doing to the world,
The world we shall give to our children,
This is it,
This world is all we have,
We must open our eyes and mind,
We must learn to see the world in a new light,
We must see what we have done to this world on which we live because it is all we 
have.


Details | Burlesque | |

MISERABLE THIEVES, YOU ARE BEING EXPOSED!

I received a letter from Toronto,Canada...
stating that I had won the De-Lotto North
American Sweepstakes in the amount
of $ 150,000.00 US dollars! Oh, I went bananas!

So I called the office line with much surprise:
1-416-939-8265 and a gentlman,
with an accent, answered the phone;
I asked him if the winning was real,
and he replied," Of course it is! "
I thought to myself, " It sounds like a scam! '
 
This morning, my bank returned
 the forfeit check to me,
with a return fee of ten dollars;
and I was furious and mad
to have fallen for that scam!
But the good news is:
they didn't get any of the money,
the tax amount of $2,850!
Cringe your teeth,
you miserable thieves:
you are being exposed
by someone who's fearless and outraged!

Today, I have sent an e-mail
to the fakecheck.org in Albany,
telling them about the scam letter...
alerting the other would-be-victims anywhere,
so they don't go singing to their bank;
I hate to see them cheated out of their money! 

These unscrupulous people, stealing your identity, 
should be persecuted to the full exent of the Law,
and when they're caught, I like to be in the judy's row:
I'll stare at their deceitful faces and read the verdict loudly!

Mr. Greg Peters And Brian McDonald,
whether your names are real...
and wherever you are right now:
remember, you can defraud others...not me!


Details | ABC | |

DEFENDING SOLDIERS OF THE TENDEREST AGE

Throughout the world's history,
we read compelling stories
of the defending soldiers of the tenderest age;
and we can be moved to tears
by the purity of their courage:
they died on the battlefield,
never breaking their promise
or fall short of integrity... 


Defending soldiers of the tenderest age as handsome
as the daffodils of the undulating fields,
nothing scares you when it comes
to protecting your motherland with that freedom: 
as intrepid as the eagles in the open skies...
Defending soldiers as true as warriors,
you push forward with the victorious thought
of becoming nothing more 
than the boldest soldiers:
seeing the smokey sky blast;
rescuing the wounded and closing the eyes
of the fallen ones bleeding on the burned grass...


If I were younger, and I had the same resistance,
I would fight with the indomitable spirit you own;
but my contribution is merely sympathetic words on paper,
which one of you will read on your return
to the homeland when all wait on you united in fond prayer:
with ribbons on trees and flags in their hands....   


Defending soldiers of the tenderest age,
all past heroes had one special trait:
the persistance and will to prevail,
and the final victory on their breath;
when everything else seemed to fail,
an indisputable faith prevented another threat...


Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Senryu | |

NEWSFLASH: Charmer in Jail

charmed four wives--same time;
loved each 'til  her cash dried up--
charmer in jail now


Details | Free verse | |

Sebastopol - Apple Blossom Weekend

The First Methodist Church,
with its bold wooden steeple,
burnt to the ground in 1914,
for preaching prohibition.
The good folks of Sebastopol
weren’t having any of that.
Today the Apple Blossom
Parade marches past
the rebuilt church, past
the Masonic Temple, past
Martha’s Mexican restaurant,
with its soup bowl Margaritas, 
past Old Main Street Tavern,
overflowing with biker patrons,
and Jasper O’ Farrell’s,
past The Powerhouse Brewery,
The Greenhouse, and G.T.O’s,
with its bottomless Bloody Marys.
As the entire town, marching bands 
and all, spill into Ivy’s Park 
for a two day party, pixilated music,
and four dollar beers to support
Analy Union High School.
No wonder Luther Burbank
and Charles Schulz
called Sebastopol their home.
And The First Methodist Church,
now made of stone, 
the only quiet place in town.


Details | Rhyme | |

At Waking

Just a glimpse into this place
One frame of a complex gallery
More than words can say
Nor music can capture effectively
Painters plod on just to fail
Sculptures hands form what will crack
Writers scratch over the tale
Poets lament what may lack
No linguist may decipher these runes
Science finds no road to ground
Explorers fast find they’re marooned
In a place no one quite ever found
Musicians find notes can’t be played
Dancers still as the stone
The rich find no price to be paid
The famous find they’re alone
No medium can describe this land
Detailed in layers too fine
One look impossible to understand
One glimpse is to know for all time


Details | Tanka | |

Area In The Periphery

gnats, hovering in a 
tear drop, battle dust motes for
room.  a peaceful wind
separates them.  i should be
glad with my personal space.


Details | Free verse | |

THE WONDROUS CONSTELLATIONS

At my birth, something happened up there...  
into the wondrous constellations,
God Himself made them shine brighter
for this new born trascending life 
into a destiny of greatness;
and my grateful smile deepened His delight!

Astrologers study the heavenly bodies: 
stars, planets and the wondrous constellations
to predict  the events of an individual's destiny... 
from an ordinary one...to the most extraordinary;
fame is measured by a monetary value,
but  greatness is a spirituality laid open to view!

Nowdays simplicity is looked upon with suspicion,
it seems a bit too spontaneous and impractical; 
the modernist confounds it and confronts it,
treating it like an incurable disease of the outcast,
but no great man has ever been
ashamed of expressing it and propagating it!

We are building monuments of wonders,
and go far into the boundless Universe...
instead of undoing pain and disharmony,
curing the plagues that inflict this Humanity;
our society is too proud and arrogant...
nothing frightens us, and we still remain defiant!

If  your fate favors you over the others,
who only can wish for such glorious moments
consumed in prosperity and greatness;
start cultivating the seeds of wisdom,
seeking out those truest friends living on the Earth...
to admire and share the wondrous constellations above!
 


Details | Ballad | |

RESTLESS YOUNG MAN WITHOUT A NAME

He keeps a very low profile,
afraid of the the horrible secret he hides;
hooked on a daily dosage of cocaine...
seeking an instant relief from his acute pain!
His cramped den is the stench
of smoked substance bought on drug-infested streets,
and filth is the undeniable evidence:
one can surely tell that he lives in Hell...
red devilish eyes and sunken cheeks; 
a wasted mind and body meeting their end!   

Restless young man without a name,
wary of the destructible consequences
that stunt your unremorseful conscience;
and what price will you pay and whom will you blame?
Restless young man without a name,
you only existed to fulfill a destiny of shame! 

Day-time is so detestable to him,
more than the viciousest enemy;
night-time changes his personality...  
and he searches for dope down-town,
where the houses are so run-down...
occupied by the crack-heads of East Main!
A limping kid, from nowhere, hands him
a small bag and he exchanges it for some green;
and what started the urge within...
is a deep wound, which can never heal! 

Restless young man without a name, 
intoxicated by the poison that destroys your life and health;
you can't be aware of what distorts your weak senses...
until you are helpless and run out of breath! 
Restless young man without a name,
guiltless and indulgent...you allow death to happily dance!


Details | Free verse | |

A Morning Entrance

at my entrance I am greeted
with pallid stares.
I walk, head down, into the back room
so that I can avert their eyes to a 
more interesting specimen.
this works only momentarily
as I am forced to take my
position among these foreign minds.

stop these assumptions,
these suspicions of why my
mouth is not worthy to open to your ears,
of how I am unable to speak at the sight of you.
in truth, I am afraid of you.
in lies, you disgust me.
sometimes it is both.

I walk to the back room again,
different eyes watch my movements,
they rudely speak,
knowing that I will not answer,
and when I leave, I can hear them
laughing like the scabs on my knees
and elbows.

I resume my position at the front
and beg to be ignored,
as I ignore them.


Details | Free verse | |

Spilled Youth

Birthing babies,
Barely able-
To have that beer,
Peer to peer,
I think it’s disgusting,
Understand,
I don’t go through it,
I am much too wise for that,
No children here,
Your life is no longer yours,
It is theirs,
The kin,
No points to win,
Popping out,
Parent unprepared,
Blame yourself,
Not birth control,
For your spilled youth.


Details | Ballad | |

WATERBURY'S PAST GLORY

Old Brass City
with massive gothic chuches,
abandoned rail-roads
and run-down factories...
we still glimpse into that bygone glory
which made your name so famous!

O Waterbury, no Christmas 
can be compared to yours,
when Main Street glitters under the fluffy snow
and everyone hummers a carol!
O Waterbury, those starry nights
are too surreal and make lovers fantasize!

Old Brass City,in ninenteen-forty-two
lads and gals were sent to war to fight the Cruel,
and mothers cried as their sons and daughters
left this once-happy-town of friendly and kind folks!
And despite all the sorrow and pain yet to be,
they proudly marched off to defeat the enemy!

O Waterbury, your monuments inspire hope,
and remind all of your past glory and leadership;
and the brave soldiers who sacrificed all...
became those heroes we've engraved into the soul!
Some returned, many died to seal their fate,
and their courage and valour put an end to all hate!


Details | Rhyme | |

The Coming Judgement

Escaping God's Judgement

Judgement shall begain 
at the house of God/
We shall all face God's "correction rod."

It will begin with the righteous... 
What shall the unsaved do?
They can pray and run... 
where will they run to?

If the righteous are scarcely saved. 
 Where will the ungodly hide?
Every "trick in the world" has already been tried!

It's time to "stop playing games"--
no more "pretending."
This world(as we know it)will soon be ending!

Come before God now... 
Kneel before his throne.
It's only be accepting his son can 
you have an eternal home!

You can try fooling the people 
you meet each Sunday.
But a day of reckoning with God
 will happen someday/

"Forgive me Lord. I have sinned!" 
must be spoken.
So every weight and bondage 
can now be broken!

He loves you so much and desires 
to make you whole!
By his blood... your sins can
 be as white as snow!

When God's judgement comes... 
You needn't be ashamed.
Reach out to him now...
 and call on his name!

By Jim Pemberton 
2010


Details | Ode | |

SHAKESPEARE'S LEGACY

Desire make me flee to England's shore,
to Stafford where Shakespeare wrote
sonnets by candlelight and moonbeams;
let me open the tall, wooden front door,
to see him in that corner weaving a thought,
swiftly turning them into theatrical schemes!


Ah, he weeps for a past tragedy he witnessed, 
making those tears flow on clean sheets
that leave him heartbroken and drenched in tears!
Oh, those sad moments seem to disappear
as he dreams of unforgotten faces he loved...
and many say he didn't feel joy but fear!


Shakespeare's spirit is not a common phantom whose voice can't
be heard everywhere it rumbles...listen attentively, don't fret!
Glance at his pensive face, read the inspirational words of any play
he's writing on paper for all to ponder in their own, persuasive way!


Details | Senryu | |

What Are You Waiting For

this wait
has alway's
meant never





Tribute To Martin Luther King


Details | I do not know? | |

Why Do You Write?

People ask me,
"Why do you write?"
"Who do you write for?"

I think,

I write for myself,
to vent my emotions
to tell a story
to spread a message
to calm myself

I write for poets,
who enjoy reading
who need inspiration
who like to encourage
who try to find similarity

I write for you,
to tell you how I feel
to send hidden messages
to make you feel good
to show what you meant to me

I say,
"I dunno, I just like to write"


Details | Rhyme | |

Do You Feel Trapped Within


Feeling “Trapped” Within??? Perhaps you feel like you’re Satan’s pawn? His “toy?” Do you feel discouraged… And have no true JOY? Are you often filled with fear and apprehension? Just living day by bay with a lot of tension? Maybe you’re at a “low point” and very “distraught.” In life’s circumstances… You feel ‘caught?” If you feel confused… Like you’re in a “trance…” God’s word says to TRUST HIM in every circumstance!… All of heaven invites you to accept Jesus as lord! So eternal life with him can be your great reward! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Lyric | |

Call Off

    Call off our Troops,
    they don't have a
    clue on the real
    scoop; because
    the President has
    them jumping thru
    invisible loops.

    Call off our men in
    green, death is the
    only thing they've
    seen; and only to be
    used as the President's
    personal killing Machine.

    Call off this W.A.R, we've
    been misled and we're
    not sure what it's for any
    more; but from the way 
    things are looking I would
    say," That President Bush
    Just Wanted To Settle A
    Personal Score."


Details | I do not know? | |

South Mumbai #1 : Morning Thoughts on Ballard Pier

Not the sleek modern skyscrapers
Fragile, slim, standing tall
Catwalk queens of present times

But squat, imposing, solid built
Dowagers of a bygone age!

Forgotten memorials
Screaming, unheard, unseen
Proclaim of valor 
In faded wars.

Winged griffins,
Gargoyles, Gods, Goddesses
Look down and stare
Mute remnants of majesty.
Verily Ozymandias comes to mind.

The lanes littered
With the birds, the bees and the beasts,
Kids both biped and quad
Suck hungrily at vestigial teats.

Pups latch on to a mother
Who’s long forgotten her own.

A crow feeds on the feast 
Of rodent tripe.

And the statuary smiles on!


Details | Free verse | |

Killadelphia Freedom

Freedom of this city,
Lack of LOVE,
What is your right?
The right to maliciously murder,
To beat and burn brains,
Drive the average insane,
Feel the pain,
See the candles,
See the vigils,
No remorse?
No repentance?
Realize,
One day all will rise,
Against this filth,
Against this violence,
Then the guilty-
Will be found out,
Smoked out,
No one will cry,
When the killers die,
We’ll make a new high,
The people will be proud,
The streets will be loud,
No more destruction,
At least a reduction,
Come together,
I urge you,
Encourage you,
One of the first cities,
Is burning,
It’s churning,
With anger and thievery,
I need you to believe with me,
We can better our blocks,
Never afraid to take walks,
We march,
For freedom,
From the death,
From the hate,
Change our fate,
Save our city.


Details | Free verse | |

A Southern New Year's

"Hey yall!"
Grabs a Roman Candle,
Sits it in a bottle,
Lights it,
Steps back and watches the colors explode.

Later you see Sally sneaking out the window,
She's going for a late night mud ride,
Her boyfriend Johnny's waiting with Mary and Mike,
"Yall ready?" Sally asks and they take off.

Sitting on the backporch with a portable TV watching the stars,
The ball drops,
It's no longer New Years Eve in Mississippi!

The fireworks really start going off now,
The whole town's awake,
Sally & Johnny stop the four wheeler under the bridge to watch,
How nice!

You can't even hear the TV now,
So you turn it off,
The stars are blocked by the magnificent colors,
And you just sit back and enjoy what luxury you get.

Then you see your boyfriend down the road waiting,
The night's no longer time,
It's time to take off.

You two decide to break in and go mud riding,
Sall & Johnny say ok,
You hop on the four wheeler,
"Is it ok for to be down here," asks your boyfriend,
"My cousin's covering for me," you say.

You know you love him,
And it's now 12:30,
You tell him to stop the four wheeler,
And under the stars,
You kiss,
A firework goes off in the distance.

You then continue on your journey mud riding,
Sally & Johnny already gone,
He drives you home at 3:00,
You sneak in through your window,
Change out of you muddy pants,
You don't care about your labs judgemental glance,
After all,
It's just a southern New Years.


Details | Ballad | |

I PRAY, WHILE OTHERS REBEL...

To have a repenting heart
which is changed by flowing kindness,
you earnestly need to pray,
and I pray,while others rebel...
ejecting bitterness from their harsh words;
and as sinful as they are:  they still
like to be praised for their formidable might: 
to mock,to insult,and deride in an harmful way!

I pray, while others rebel...
demanding an act of veneration; 
nothing that exposes conviction,
or  liberation from libel!

They continue to look right and holy,
but underneath they cringe...
plotting against the will of God,
bending their ways to fit their habits;
an iron bar will bend 'till it melts
from the intense heat...and so will they!

I pray...while they rebel,
and set their mind on revenge...
their unconvincing glow seems strange;
do I have to resemble them in heart and mind,
speak in the same voice unti I reach Hell?
Haven't they noticed that I'm listening to another sound?


Details | Epulaeryu | |

COMMUNAL SUPPER

Set out in an upper room,
passover made new;
tender slowly cooked lamb stew,
wine,unleavened bread
with thanksgiving said-
A hymn of
Praise !

Full story of this vignette @ Like 22:11-20


Details | Acrostic | |

Confessions to a Bartender

Can you take my order now if you please?
Orange liquor would definitely do the trick.
Now don’t go away for my tale is not a tease.
Frankly no one listens. I make them sick.
Every word I say each day of my life.
Sings of rhyme to an amazing flair,
Sessions that I do speak flows to rife.
I asked an elf to give me a poetic fair.
Oh you know how mischief they can be.
Now I honestly have a problem, you can see.
Saying rhymes constantly is not an esprit.
Tell me bartender have you seen a pixie.
Oh please say that you have even if it’s risky.
A real one if you please not just any nixie.
Bartender bring me a Jack and Coke, I crave.
Another chance I need, another wish to plead.
Really, really this story is true, I swear on my grave.
To tell a lie, it would make me fall down of my lead.
Elves are everywhere; they give wishes, this I know.
Now you might think I am drunk, or need to let go.
Dear bartender you are a psychological pro.
Earnestly you know this is not a fantasy to outgrow.
Remember the ghost last week that won the game show.


written for
Sponsor Natalie :) The Rogue Rhymer  
Contest Name Confessions to a bartender 


Details | Free verse | |

Elephant Grave Yard(OLd Eagle Feather)

Elephant Grave Yard(OLd Eagle Feather) 
Elephants do it or it seems they used two. 
Made a place to leave they bones and went two there place 
in great droves or herds i think they are called. 
Old Eagle Feather was watching the women by the fire one day. 
They were chewing jerky to make it soft for meat to eat. 
Softening the jerky for little mouths to chew. 
Old Feather he is now been called got up and off he goes. 
Took up two stones of suprising weight, 
and carried them toward the elephant grave yard. 
I am going to my fate.He never shed a tear. 
I have done it all my time is gone.Let me make no haste. 
NO more wasted time in stories bye the fire. 
I am just in time. 
I see the elephants again, 
they are all in line waiting to get in. 
To my heaven. 


Details | Free verse | |

Spring Revives Nippon

If streets had beats,
Ours would be steady,
Diversity beautifies Mt. Airy,
The veins of life are blue and bright;
Here,
Nature revives our lives,
The grace of spring arrives,
I hear the children at play,
Today is pleasant,
Today is positive,
I feel so alive.


Details | Free verse | |

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home
My childhood home
Is cherished 

Memories filled with
Silver and gold
And sometimes pure cold.

No one told me
It would go with me
Where ever I go 

When I roam from
Town to town
I carry it with me

I open the door
Each night when
I go to sleep
And dream.

I can’t shake
What I learned
And what I didn’t 
Learn inside 
My honeycomb

I can’t stop
Moaning 
About that
Home.


Details | Free verse | |

The Bus

Get up and go

Foul smells assault my nose

taking all my senses in its strong hands and draining the life from them

I struggle to breathe 

A woman—her age, sad as her condition pulls her crippled body off and away 

I feel the wheels moving under my lightly shod feet 

I want them to move faster

A man who controls only parts of his body rolls his donated disgusting chair out 
of the way

So those with useful appendages will not be hindered 

Silent I consider my faults 


Details | Narrative | |

Change

It jinggles
In our pockets
Feeds the hungry
Heals the sick
Asked for
From the poor

Currancy

Is a 
Passing thought
Thought put to action
But when you
Act it on me
I'm not going
To be a pawn
In your Games
Games of greed

Greed.


Details | Free verse | |

View from a bed-sit

Reciting soliloquies to lonely cobbled aisles,
a fractured mind drifts within innocence.
Remembering long forgotten memories
with a chortle, echoed against the crawling mist.

Black BMW cruises the street,
hoping to pick up a war,
and as the train grinds to a halt
another truant steps from the merry-go-round.
Taking the helter-skelter to self-destruction,
all because of liquid dreams.

With her braided hair, a class room butterfly
scratches undying love into brick red wall.
Sharing cigarettes and secrets with jealous confidantes,
while the dancing headlights of the last bus,
kiss innocence good-bye.

Fighting the dark, street light paralysis its victim,
unsure of the minefield ahead,
until sanctuary is breached again.

Sweating stones grease the passage-way
that broken hearts take for temporary release.
Too many bruises pinned upon the arms,
that fold around, to be ever mistaken for a mothers hug.

Tom cats and bitches scuttle home,
escaping false dawns light.
Hobo crawls into cardboard castle,
meths and nightmares his un-sleeping partners.

returning normality.

Postman delivers the final reminders,
as hacking shutters rise to greet the tainted day.

Braided butterfly waves good-bye
to her prince, no longer an innocent;
Yet still, somehow, pure in her uniform.

Haze seeps from the greased stones
as pseudo mother unlocks her door,
knowing the false moans are finished
and for a time she can lay down to sleep.

Torn curtain falls to hide reality,
while the sweeper cleans last nights crystal dreams.
Watched by chalk hearts proclaiming "2gether, 4ever"

Cleansed by the morning rain, street credibility returns.


Details | Lay | |

died while i was living

can't be 
justice 
with the suspect 
smiling 

can't be love 
with my heart 
still prowling 

oh 911 
did you get the 
411 
my heart was broken 
i can't walk or run

i can't talk i'm stung
haven't even touch 
you....now look at 
the drool from my tounge

i'm seeing my future 
but my present is 
threat ful 
if i don't change i'm just 
i'm just 
i'm just 
i'm just 
i'm just 
hold up i'm talented 
beautiful
able 
willing 
strong 
powerful 
determine.,.
my fears died while i was living


Details | Haiku | |

An Old Wooden Bridge

an old wooden bridge
under the shades of a tree
connecting people


Details | Quatrain | |

Haiti: Dreams Betrayed Beneath the Sun

Haiti: Dreams Betrayed Beneath the Sun

Our “Mother Earth” has filled her graves; dread stays.
Entrapping thousands in her hungry jaws.
She quivered with her deepest rage, oh, day.
And from her belly under seas roars cause.

Spitting fire, destroying, homes; thus stealing breath.
Disaster bound its heart to tears affright.
Rescuers search the rubbles heaped with … Death.
She killed the young and old with just one bite. 

Gone; children ripped from parents while they played.
And Old folks lost in thought found not their stay.
In moments those that lived had passed away.
Now destitute, survivors to God pray.

The rich and poor together work, none tire.
Will hopes and prayers revive their stolen days?
The rescued, shocked, and dazed reap horrors’, ire.
Life lost beneath debris turns to a blaze.

The world looks on with wonder, all amazed.
Resilient, pained, some brave survivors’ fight.
For tragedy had thrust death’s dreadful phase.
But human strengths arose to face their plight.

As help from other lands aid dreams betrayed.
Reminding all who lived that we are one.
United humans, tasting dread; strength stayed.
Compassion, peace, and love beneath the sun.


© © Dane Smith-Johnsen
January 31, 2010

Poetic form: Quatrain


Details | Narrative | |

ANYONE CAN CHANGE

Most of us are too quick to judge
not knowing anything about a person,
and distrust is the outcome of ignorance
capable of setting us apart  from civilization;
first gather the facts, not useless rage,
and the belief that anyone can change
draws ourselves to a truth so unknown...


Hear all the words they speak, use intuition;
do they convince you to continue listening,
or throw you off with idignation?
If that voice sounds too unconvincing,
and can't confirm the answers you're expecting,
come up with questions that are pungent:
transforming those ideas with a thought,
and always believe that anyone can change...


Empires have risen, giving the obsolute power
to fearless men who were made into legends;
some were deserving, but most were tyrants of unclemency,
and did shameful and cruel deeds:
torturing or killing anybody who used to dare;
are we learning something from History?


When Attila the Hun rampaged Italy,
Leo the Great...the courageous Pope,
persuaded the savage king 
not to sack the city of Rome; 
and he also believed anyone could change: 
that any heart, with all its brutality and rage,
could replace its rampant fury and grim
with human compassion and mercy...


Details | I do not know? | |

Just For A Moment

Just for a moment close your eyes,

Just for a moment listen to the sounds.

Just for a moment think of the the past,

Just for a moment imagine their rounds.

Try to remember as you celebrate the fourth,

all the meaning behind it and all it's worth.

Be thankful you see pretty colors in the sky,

and all you are listening to are fire works...


Details | Rhyme | |

Ode To The Mosh Pit!

Lights flashing, people clashing
Arms and legs flying everywhere
People laughing, having fun
Dancing without a care
Feeling exhausted, want to rest
Have to find a chair
Can’t see the band because I have to stand
It isn’t fair!
Wait a minute, a gap at the front just opened up
Got to move fast, got to hurry up
If I want to get in there
Now my eyes are hurting from the glare of the lights
But being this close to the band is such a thrilling delight
Seeing them jumping around, hyping up the crowd is such an awesome sight!
Let’s hope they keep the crowd rocking into the night
As they sing their last song
For the final encore
I feel sad
I’d waited so long to see them
But I’m so glad I went along
And in a couple of years, they’ll be back once more!


Details | Verse | |

Cattle

oh, this grinding surge
roaring into battle,
how the air is filled
with the sabre rattle;
how the sky is blacked
by fires in their burning,
how the townships sacked
by counter-strikes returning;
how the guns and shells
through the air are streaming,
how the tolling bells
bleed into the screaming;
oh, the fight for land, 
conflicts over chattel,
how the days are spent
in slaughtering the cattle.


Details | Free verse | |

To walk out your door

It takes uncertainty, I know 
to walk out your door 
and walk through another that’s not yours 
Of course, there’s too a course 
that other, unfamiliar, shoes use 
There are signs and there are signs 
not always along the way 
There is opportunity 
there is stop’n wait’n see 
choices others can’t make 
You’ll find too, things that go wrong. . . far from the right 
Afternoon. . . turns to morning. . . skips to night 
There is certain to be a promise. . . a goal. . . a loss 
and love’s. . . not yet in the toss 
Advice listened, taken and given 
Too few things, too many things. . . you’ll come to know 
It takes certainty 
to walk out your door


Details | Bio | |

Rhythms of the Night

 Rhythms of the Night
   
 
Seduced by the rhythms of the night
The English Air
The London Night
Sounds of People Laughing
People Singing
People Dancing
Entices me nearer to the source
The night streets covered in fog
I venture down the cobblestone streets
to find the source
The sounds of the street beat
that move my feet
The music eminates from a dark alley
through a side door.
The music Pumping...Thumping
set afire by the music 
The music and my soul become one
My feet dance aflutter 
Shutter I think to what the future holds
As you and I embrace into one body
Engulfed into One
Nothing around us matters
Just You and I
Peter B LeBuhn

Copyright ©2006 Peter B. Lebuhn 

Peter LeBuhn  
 


Details | I do not know? | |

THESE STATES UNITED - PART I

A watchful white Dove 
 
patiently hovers high

slowly, high up above
 
as One 
 
of the forgotten few
 
Look down from the Great Golden 
 
Bird's Eye view

 
sigh sigh sigh
 
try not to cry
 
why why why
 
is there a  teardrop in your Golden eye
 
try try try

 
try not to choke
 
on the clouds
 
or on the smoke
 

Fly on your heartbroken
 
Paternal Wing
 
so tried and true
 
not so fast
 
past the Golden King
 
that we once loved 

that we once knew
 
there falls the red, the white, 

and the beautiful blue
 
teardrop - so long 
 
so long overdue


 
What a worthwhile journey 
 
A poor Pilgrim's passage through
 
Blood-soaked stripes 
 
taint pale me
 
and Americans of all types
 

of all shapes, sizes, and colors
 
and they also paint a colorful you
 
oh yes, you
 
yes, you too!
 
They Are Coming!
 
to paint you a somber more forgiving hue


 
Hear the Golden bagpipes 

Play for us now
 
Songs of a Nation
 
that we cannot replace
 
The Star Spangled Banner
 
God Bless America
 
and Amazing Grace
 
Pray for us now
 


God, George, save our Golden Face
 
Save our Sacred place

On Earth
 
As it is in Heaven

Where dreams renew

Where our Golden Eagle
 
Once so gracefully flew


 
Soar into Heavens of unthinkable
 
unsinkable

unreachable heights

 
Through the fears
 
the tears
 
and for over 200 years 
 
of a bloodstained
 
star struck
 

history
 
which is reflected in our 

and our older brother’s bloodshot eyes 
 
yet still remains
 
a mystery


Details | Free verse | |

MEXICO QUERIDO

MEXICO QUERIDO

Mexico querido y lindo…
The beauty of the people
And the land in which they live
Is accentuated by their struggle
To live their lives without bitterness
In a system of unfairness
The land itself cries out for justice
For equality and dignity
Men’s hopes are dashed 
Upon the altar of greed
At the heart of corruption is
Supreme selfishness,
Amassing wealth for 
One’s own pleasures

Still Mexico’s people 
Remain resilient,
Enduring life’s hardships
With steady determination
To enjoy their loved ones
And the land of their forefathers
To dare to believe, 
To hope yet once again
For the sake of their children
For a Mexico querido y lindo 
For everyone

mja


Details | Free verse | |

South Side Soothsayers

" I'm a bum,"  he said
on a hazy evening.
Standing on the corner
of East Carson Street,
South Side of Pittsburgh.

" Everyone has the potential
for genius!"

His words echo of the cracked
conglomerate of sidewalks
bearing the daily burden of 
many passing,
shopper's unaware steps.

" We are all born with
the same number of brain
cells, little lady."

Was he telling me that
genius is bred within each
and not created?

"Intelligence and brilliance
burdens the streets!"

Decaying brown leather
shoes step on the ashes
dust from the menthol light
he had bummed  from me.

" Addiction, my dear, 
is all in the mind. I paid
five dollars for a cigarette
once,"

He laughs while cradling
the nicotine filled column
between his heavy aged
fingers.

" I don't need this anymore 
than you do, anymore than
anyone needs anything."

Tossing the butt into
the ominous slits of
the pitched sewer 
grate and then solemnly 
strolled away stating,

" Don't you know it's all
in the mind, my dear,
all in the mind."


Details | Rhyme | |

The Hospital Trilogy Part Two - Asylum Daze

This joke has worn thin, it’s a membrane of gauze 
which insulates feelings and never gives pause 
to express the frustrations, self hatred and fear 
of existence defined by lung-blood and beer. 
Each day is a nightmare, each night sheer hell 
when I can’t rid myself of the memory and smell 
or the stress and the strain of a pointless day’s toil 
in a cracked sort of twilight that tastes of dead soil. 
Anaesthetized, programmed, my mind running cold, 
fixed smile on my lips that feels centuries old;
through urine and faeces and bile and despair 
I try hard not to tear out what’s left of my hair. 
What a mindless profession I’ve taken to heart
in this war of attrition that rips lives apart;
there’s no wisdom, no succour, no comfort to give, 
no cure for the stricken or chance they will live. 
Brain cells are miasmas of stark atrophy, 
behaviourally slaughtered, wild thoughts roaming free 
through a fairground of broken up structures and dreams 
in a wasteland of dopamine ricochet screams. 
Dazed and confused and disorientated, 
the crippled and aged whose minds have stagnated 
in leather bound skulls housing dull vacant eyes 
as they stumble their way to a thoughtless demise. 
King Solomon, people, don’t live in this place, 
we pretend that he does but it shows on my face;
I’m deluded and burnt-out, a white coated shell 
and if anyone cares here they’ve hidden it well. 
Their time was up years past, they’ve only reliance, 
preserved and half pickled by medical science;
a loved one, a husband, a wife or a friend,
parked up a cul-de-sac, right ‘round the bend.
Yet they’ve lived more than I have, these sad walking dead,
I’m the garbage man mercenary perched at the bed,
I am lifeless, less feeling than they’ll ever be:
if you don’t fool with dead things then don’t fool with me.


Details | Rhyme | |

God's Kingdom Is ETERNAL


God’s Kingdom Is ETERNAL! I think about civilizations, future and past. No matter how large... They never last! Every kingdom has crumbled to the ground. The “great empires” can no longer be found! As I think about this... I began to wonder. What’s happened to man’s “glory and splendor? There is a kingdom which will never end... The entrance is narrow, to those who want in. The way to get in is through Jesus’ shed blood. It’s inhabitants have received his gift of love! The beauty of this place is a sight to behold. So glorious and wonderful… The half hasn’t been told! This place can be yours! An eternal home! Through Christ… We can approach God’s holy throne! Won’t you make plans for a life eternal? So your name can be placed in heaven’s journal! The kingdom of God is an opportunity to share. I plan to be part of it… And hope to see you there! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Elegy | |

Bombay Missiles

From the eyes of Shangri-la and words indited in bulletin
spoken by  bellwethers and imagery on broadcasts
Felt the passing of breaths and federation menace.

The scourge abided by cause of hooliganism
By a group of libertine, 
Held, ye plot to an affright baker’s dozen bams.
He who fended collared gravely, and he who
Fathered, headed for the hills. 
Passing of breaths and the devour city
Bellowing mother’s cry and bemused father
The helpless baby yet addled with a smile.
The speechless contrarian and the stock market blues
Mongers fall back and the bollywood whodunit. 
Queried world and hastening federations 
The eventual address to make for red alert. 

Staked City and yet another lionize attack
To their day of remembrance on the cause of vandalism
Dawdled to a tetrad later 
Abided by the juvenility of their community
Held, ye plot to an heptad bams.
Office hour rushed shush dead to the world
Aghast citizenry and deplorable family
Her plighting husband to return and son’s oft exacts
Left apart for an unknown time.

Ruled by terrorism, shame upon faith
Around-the-clock yet another hark back
Abided by the army of pure
Held, ye plot to tenner explosions.
Challenges taken were overwhelm 
An arrest bore witness
Yet, 
From the eyes of Shangri-la and words indited in bulletin
spoken by  bellwethers and imagery on broadcasts
Felt the passing of breaths and federation menace.


Details | I do not know? | |

at ease

When I walk through the park
and I hear the birds sing
i am at ease.....
When I sit in a silent room 
listening to absolutely nothing
i am at ease.....
When I pass by a waterfall
that has captured my attention and all
i am at ease.....
not a military action
or a scream to reaction
it's more or less a simple reflex
that's given my mind a time to reflect
and it's no wonder at all
to feel a time to recall,that
i am at ease.....


Details | Rhyme | |

I'll Meet You There

Don't wait for me; 
Don't waste any time-
Don't stand by me;
I'll meet you there.
Don't bother running;
Stand where you are;
I won't be lonely;
I'll meet you there.
Don't miss me too much;
We'll be together soon;
Keep going your way.
I'll meet you there.
You'll know where to find me.
It will be obvious.
I promise you that 
I'll meet you there.
We have to go our separate ways..
Two different paths we chose.
We're both going to his heart; I promise you that 
I'll beat you there.


Details | Free verse | |

Heavenly Saturdays

On Saturday
they say
heaven feels closer
penetrating cigarette
smoke
a poser forgets that the
choke
is universal
mercurial
and shivering
as the buzzard circles
a carcass deserted
but tolerated by 
those determined
and quivering
but the faithless
push past the putrid
and dwell on what’s heartless
they transform the scene
and taint the evidence
in between
they chum up the killers
fisher’s of recompense
and kings of the wondering
as souls puncture the
cigarette smoke
to attack the clanging clock
made of slag wastage
gleaming black
against the
Saturday sun 


Details | Couplet | |

Dewsbury Moor

The snow fell in Dewsbury Moor overnight,
They woke up at lunch to a horrible sight,
The snow had flowed through the broken gates,
And roads were blocked all across the estates,
The giros had still not arrived after ten,
So wailing was general within the crack den.
The bin bags piled up to the lower window,
Obscured by the grime-defying, beautyfying snow.
The wind whistled through the boarded up seams,
Of windows and roused men from opiate dreams,
While weary-eyed women with mascara'd tears,
Tend to their children, three in four years.
But the memories stay as the snow melts away,
How beautiful Dewsbury Moor looked today!


Details | I do not know? | |

The Vagabond Within

The Vagabond Within.

I slip through cracks,
my memories dimming,
as thoughts of yesterday swirl,
down dreary tunnels of decay,
into the chasm that is today.

Waiting, forever waiting,
to belong, yearning to fit in,
taking solace in transient cities,
wearing masked faces,
tailored for fleeting places.

 I stagger each night, lost,
wasting precious breaths,
drawn from a lifetime of sighs,
no consolation from the cruel,
while donning the skin of the fool.

Wrestling unseen demons,
dreading tomorrow as it nears,
ripping away my shallow smile,
withering into a hollow shell,
seeking comfort in everyday hell.

I stumble, I falter,
words slipping off pen onto paper,
fickle doleful murmurs of distaste,
at the gradual emptying of a soul,
needing to shed it all to be whole.

Stray dogs savage each other inside,
a body lathered in deep muck,
soiling my pants, wetting my being,
whistling promises that turn into lies,
the plaintive songs of a clown that cries.

I am momentary, 
a soap bubble on the breeze,
just smoke clearing into thin air,
wasting away in my cocooned lair,
too old to change, too young to care.


Details | I do not know? | |

Retro Fair

Buckfast and concrete slabs
Neds and rain and thoughts of dad.
Highflats, pigeons, pavement's hue
Subway makes me think of you.

City City City lights
stream on by
flashin neons reds and yellows,
and the bridge that takes me into town-
full of buses, truks, cars and drunks-
and junkies. 
- hangin on by a shoestring,
eyein up ma bag like it's a new thing,
starin at me like im not really there, 
just another passenger through their smothered glare.
And where it all began and should end I've no idea
It's just another city,
Another Retro Fair.

On show for the world
Seems unreal, but you've heard
The screams of the caged up people,
The People, The People, the people.
They've forgotton to keep their eyes on the prize,
They've forgotton paradise.
Too many high flats and grey hues stealin their eyes,
The people, The people,
The People
Buckfast
Concrete
Rain
Pure lethal.


Details | Lyric | |

Show Me Your England, Ashton

Show Me Your England, Ashton
Show Me Your England, Dear
Show Me Your England, Ashton
Now, That I’m Finally Here…

He Took Me To New London Bridge
He Took Me To The Tower
And The House Of Lords And The Privileged
As Big Ben Chimed The Hour

He Took Me To Piccadilly Square
… Rode On The River Thames
England, Is Extraordinaire
And I’m Glad I Saw It With Him

… To The Palace Of Buckingham
Then Again To Parliament
At Hyde Park, We Had Tea And Jam
Then A Pub, For Refreshment

But Of The Sights, That He Chose
The Best Is; I Saw The Queen!
The Next Day, When I Arose…
Why… It Had Been A Dream… So…

Show Me, Your England, Ashton
Show Me Your England, Dear
Show Me Your England, Ashton
Now, That I’m Finally Here…


Details | Ode | |

SHAKESPEARE'S LEGACY

Desire make me flee to England's shore,
to Stafford where Shakespeare wrote
sonnets by candlelight and moonbeams...
Let me open the tall front door,
to see him in that corner weaving a thought,
swiftly turning them into theatrical schemes!
Ah, he weeps for a past tragedy he witnessed, 
making those tears flow on clean sheets
that leave him heartbroken and drenched in tears!
Oh, those sad moments seem to disappear
as he dreams of unforgotten faces he loved...
and many say he didn't feel joy but fear!
Shakespeare's spirit is not a phantom whose voice can't
be heard everywhere it roams...listen, don't fret!
Try to glance at his pensive face, read the words of that play
he's writing on paper for all to ponder in a persuasive way!


Details | Couplet | |

Conversation Starter

Please know this:
First kiss,
Someday being a wife,
Realistic life,
Growing to mature,
A good future,
Willing to admit
You're used to it,
Odds and ends,
Smiling friends,
Wanting to live,
Love, and give,
Questions and mystery,
These are things that interest me.


Details | Free verse | |

Spreading the dream

Million dollar fireworks light up 
the eastern sky

leaving red tracers between broken homes
and marking the rank of ordered followers

blackened by the smoke of oil money
smoldering
and a dream deferred
in the cradle of life 


Details | I do not know? | |

It's Not Safe Here Anymore

We close and lock the windows.
We use dead-bolts on doors.
We sleep with one eye open.
It's not safe here anymore.

What kind of world has this become
when you have to live in fear? 
You have to keep your curtains shut
and they cannot be too sheer.

You smile at the nice young man
who looks like you or me.
But he's not going to tell you
he's on the sex-offenders registry.

You can't go out alone now.
You must always have your phone.
Don't ever let them sense your fear
or hear it in your tone.

We close and lock the windows.
We use dead-bolts on doors.
We sleep with one eye open.
It's not safe here anymore. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Time To Get Up

Tick tock tick tock
Out window with that clock
Each and every frigging day
Tells me to get out of hay

Brushing teeth
Breath smelling so sweet
Another dam hole in sock
Oh how I hate that clock

Blue jean entire
God I'm really tired
Clean sand bugers out of eyes
In rush to say goodbye's

Gas light engine on again
This crisis is such a sin
Scrounging pockets for a buck
Pulling out lint what such luck

Morning greetings from the boss
When all I wanted to do was stay in bed and toss
Paper work piling up
No coffee to fill my cup


Tic tock tick tock
Come on hurry up dam clock
For shopping still has to be done
And let me tell you it's no fun


Kids husband dogs and cats
Drive me nuts like a pack of rats
What can one do
But not to come unglued

So I want to give a big thanks
To my alarm clock that doesn't play pranks
And gets me up and out that door
So I can pay for those things I truely adore

















Details | Free verse | |

Coming Home

He came home in fatigues
a late night in March
chill, crisp windless.

His heavy shined shoes pairingly
stole the chipped, warped
creaking boards of
the basement stairs. 

Turning the corner,
stepping into the living room
shiny black leather 
steel tipped boots  dripped
clinging snow onto the worn
blue carpet, shoes just 
recently stained of 
dust and mud.

That same sweet smile 
proclaimed, "I'm home!"
grinning ear to ear
expsing frosted red dimples
high on each cheek.

We got a case that night
Molsons.
Before he want to war, 
he always drank Molsons,
he drank them slow, steady.
Amber fluid this night waved
violently into this throat
succeding and receding
behind brown glass.

After those first few gulps
I was shocked when he 
pulled his hat from his brow.
Exposing mans eyes, war's eyes
previously shadowed by his
stately brim.
Eyes begging to be seduced by
the bubbly beverage.

Friends, drink, this momment
was the opposite of coarse winds,
bright bombs, harsh suns,
endless convoys and 
the stench of rotting urban death.

I was witnessing a singular sample
of soldier's spirit splitting, and
splintering apart.
Crumbling like the ancient
secrets buried in the dessert.

Essence exshaused appearing
as exposed steel wire
in deteorating concrete.
The veins of destructed cities, 
soldiers, Baghdad, Iraq.

Bleeding onto sand pressed streets
is blood that can't be 
washed off the hands. 
Can't be drained from the mind.

Crimson that now
darkens this soldiers baby blues. 


Details | Free verse | |

In a Web

this territory's a wasteland
the curious that pass by
stop in for a drink 
then go on their merry way
a full suitcase to advertise

this place is a sh-thole
and no matter how nicely it's stated
it's exactly that
and we're all just suspended from its reaches
blinded by white lights and white lies
sex sells, and so does attention
for every word of information
there's a worthless thousand
cheap entertainment, free distractions
the cost of a monthly fee
and then it's all you can eat
so gorge on mediocrity
traded over wire lines
reeling you in at the end of this hook
this is the binge
meet the barely copable
becoming the still-ignored
in a beautifully "brave new world" context

we can no longer hear screams
laughter, shouts, sobs 
or the fizzling of anger
it's a disappearance no one appears to miss
so another slips off
and as usual, no one notices
so impersonal, so disrespectful
is this a new way to communicate
or a new way to fall apart?
there can never be too much of anything
but if it's there to take
someone will take it till bloated

the fastest way to touch base with the world
and we're forevermore wrapped up in our particular lives
so everybody log-in tonight
then wave goodbye to the world at large


Details | Free verse | |

Runcorn Moonlit Romance

Through the erotic alleyways
of dim set lamppost light,
smoky the figure struts on by
to catch the last bus of the night.
It's gone past eleven,
and it's down grim lucks drive,
but she'd've danced till dawn
swimming in any old dive-
Off goes the lady of liquor,
toes screeching to be a little quicker,
Her blisters cry to green sleeves 
But she daren't try paddling in hazer's heap.
And she is in presence of charm
by tweens and men offering her arm.
They serenade her beauty in heckled praise:
"Your dead fit- give us a gob-job la"
and with a hickup she giggles,
and coyly flutters her stuck on eyes.

Oh the seductive sound of chavs zipper
that to her delight moonlight flicker
gives a hint to their gift like that of the ripper.
She passes by,
oh those gentle pricks of enticement-
the serenade fading to silence,
meeting her backed against the wall.
Nervous she presses her dress to her stomach,
blushing she takes her other hand
seductively pressing it on her lips and down her throat.
He grabs her wrist and thrusts his surprise toward it,
she bows her head in submission,
taking a firm grip-
she lurches and twists.

"There you go" she legs it. 


Details | Rhyme | |

MY DAD'S MISTRESS

Loveliness and grace
were the improper virtues
of a deceitful woman,
who would constantly use
them to seduce a married man...
that was my dad's mistress.


The holiest of women,
bearing through silence
much undeserved pain;
and love her children 
she did without visible signs...
unable to toss the destiny's dice.


Dad's heart was defiled by lust,
and still expected mother's trust,
once he slapped me hard
for my rebellious attitude...
he knew his child suspected cheating,
when, most nights, he saw him fleeing. 


Cuddled in a blanket on the marble floor
shivering not with cold, but with fear,
I waited for dad when everybody was asleep;
inside that big house I didn't feel secure,
it was a prince's castle hunted by ghosts...
and they attempted to grab me by their arms.
 

And because I resembled daddy a lot:
confident, virile, strong with the looks of a charmer;
I feared I would have become him and cared less,
without self-affection, sharing a wife and a lover...
and to stop the cycle, I would have kept my sexiness intact,
even thinking of joining the priesthood to avenge my dad's mistress. 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Rhyme | |

Am I Truly Concerned With Reaching the Lost

The lost souls of this world—
am I concerned?
While so many without Christ
 in the wrong direction have turned???

With each day that
 passes me by...
To many of my neighbors,
 I’ve only said: “Hi!”

I’m too busy to give anyone
 part of my time...
I go to church on Sundays...
 I’ve “committed no crime.”

I’ve never led a person in
 the sinner’s prayer...
“Why should I waste my time?”
 “Why should I care?”

I know that Jesus commands 
me to reach the lost...
But I’ve never sacrificed
 what this would cost.

I know that when Jesus
 comes back again...
He’ll expect me to reach
 the lost souls of men.

If one day I plan to make
 heaven my goal!
There must be a desire in my heart
in reaching the lost soul!

By Jim Pemberton
2006


Details | Couplet | |

ODE TO THE MEMORY MAKERS

Do you want to hear a story, perhaps an anecdote or two . . .
There is a place to do it, when life caves in on you.

There is a group of people who share their lives today . . .
I found them only by happy circumstance, as I was traveling this way.

They get together once a month, to tell tales of their past . . .
Each one in their particular way have stories that will last.

Each one could talk for hours on end, and there would be no lulls . . .
For the times and places they have been, are etched upon their souls.

Their pleasure in remembering is a joy to all who hear . . .
We like to listen to the tales they tell, they give us all a cheer.

The lives they have led, the people they've known, the places they've been to . . .
Are celebrated with us each month, as if we'd been there too.

The moments in time that in our hasty lives, we often will forget . . .
Are cherished now as memories, especially the ones we seem to fret.

Memories, I know, are not for us alone and need to be shared . . .
Even the ones we don't want to think on, the ones that made us scared.

The stories they share with us are not just a reason for rhyme . . .
But I wanted each of them to know, how much I enjoy this time.

Because of them, I have remembered so many things of my own past . . .
Times that I'd forgotten, but have come back to me at last.

The darkest corners of memory are brightened by their chat . . .
I, for one, know I will always be grateful for that.

Our thought are put in new perspective - even the darkest ones we save . . .
But however dark and grim they are, as memories they behave.

To all the MEMORY MAKERS present and past who grace us all this way . . .
This rhyme is for you, "Thank You" for sharing your lives with us, past, present, and today.


Details | I do not know? | |

passage 37

it is the passage 37
when my age will show
and it is time to pray to heaven

Reveal the truth
admit mortal flaws
confess my thousand wrong
kneel down on my two paws

Mother,by my side
revelations that I will not hide
I have committed many lies that has been said
It hurts the soul to cry and ask:
DID THAT JUST COME FROM INSIDE THIS WICKED HEAD?

40 is around the pike
recollecting the deeds that I never did like
sweethearts of the old and the young
but HERE I AM,alone..with such verses yet to be sung

The Pied Piper led many MOUSEcreants homeward
Still playing that flute that still can be heard
As for me,I sit here typing..
a lonely pauper,an advancing nerd

PASSAGE 37

I end this poem

to Sleep..UNDISTURBED!!


Details | Free verse | |

The Gap

the generations are diverse
as different as can be
generation gaps exist 
in every family tree
 
Grandma had the radio
Hitler and two wars
"sacrifice" and "stay in line"
the first co-ed bars
 
My Mama saw Vietnam
Woodstock and the moon
television..  birth control
and phones in every room
 
Now generation x is here
and hero's don't exist
but we have the Internet 
and fancy e-mail lists
 
the millennial's have seen so many things
Katrina and face-book
you scoff - but know our purple hair
invite those second looks
 
each generation changes things
not always for the best
but heart to heart and hand to hand
we give the gap a rest
 


Details | Free verse | |

MORNING RUSH

                                                           
                                             

I am widely read,~ Train doors open,
o my readers sit~some riders get off.  
or stand on long~ " Pardon me, sir! "
train cars! Sleep~  Guys' faces daze,
they won't since~someone is too glad
words get tense,~ while her legs trot;             
and action stirs; ~  no preacher cries                        
o another reason~  out at such sight! 
they read a lot,~ Cops on the watch,
is not to make ~  suspicion of threat;
real eye contact!~dogs sniff package.                          
                                                                                                         


Details | Rhyme | |

Powder in the Dust

My world is so huge,
There’s just so much to see,
There’s still a lot left to explore!
There’s too much left inside to pursue!
My world just captures the depths of a higher intensity!
Oh how I want so much to have your all or more!
Oh how badly I could just give my entire world to you!
But we’re just powders in the dust sorting through all of the density!
Your world is so small.
There’s just so little to see.
It’s lost and hidden with nothing to explore!
There’s still so much left inside of you! 
Truly you want to give or take your all!
Oh how I want so badly to take you to the bottom of my very deep!
How badly I could just give you so much of my all and more!
But we’re just powders in the dust tangled in a magnetic free fall.
Our world is so enormous.
There’s never too much for us to see.
There’s always something magnificent for us to ponder or explore.
Oh how we are so very much beyond the great grand in generous!
Oh how well we fulfill our each and every genuine need!
But we’re just powder in the dust on a journey destined to take our all or more!


Details | Senryu | |

The House's Very Clean

the house’s very clean
the owner’s very dirty
nita's very tired


Details | Rhyme | |

This Road I Travel


Are you looking for joy and satisfaction
 that you “haven’t got?”
The peace and joy which you seek…  
Simply can’t be bought…

Do you seek some kind of fulfillment
 in your daily activities?
Meanwhile, pushing the envelope,
” with your liberties?

There’s a road of “good intentions.” 
 It’s wide and easy to find.
But there’s a narrow road… Which I have in mind…

This narrow road, to many, may seem strange indeed…
It’s only on this road, where you’ll find
 an answer to your need

This road eventually leads to a life that’s everlasting.
This brings me to a question, which I’m asking…

Are you ready to take the road that
 leads to heaven’s gate?
Will this be your choice?  Before it’s too late?

Jesus stands at your heart’s door 
and he’s knocking..
The choice is yours…  Which road you’ll
 do your walking…

Please take the narrow road… 
 It can be difficult to travel…
You should do this...  Before this world begins to “unravel.”

Jesus.  The prince of Peace...  Rules the earth
 and heavens above…
Won’t you enter his haven of rest,
 and abundance of love?

He is here waiting for you.  So loving,
 patient and kind…
Only in him… Will you find satisfaction and 
joy every single time!

By Jim Pemberton   
01/16/11


Details | Free verse | |

College Job

Five dollars on average pays
for a McDonnalds value meal.
Costs little in comparison to
other fast food chains.

I think about this as the 
drawer - clunks
open - close and
blue painted chipped 
polished nails scrape
against the plastic. 
Giving a nickel a penny.

Even my mind is 
corporatized here. 
Commercialized brain waves, 
I'm trained.

I smile that cute big smile, 
waitress and bartenders
have it. 
I don't know why without
the chance of tips
I even bother with it, 

You're meal ( if large sized)
pays more than my hour.
Tell this to the people in their 
new SUV's, Isuzus, 
suburban sedans.
Twingy eyed from waiting
during dinner.

Tight lips, pursed prisses, 
mini vans with screaming hoards
A multitude of lined
and organized confusion.

The beeping and ringing go
off again, damn
the collaborated, machinated,
soda.... Ok, I mean Pop 
machine is sticking, cranking,
turning---
EEEEHHH ,EEHHHH , EEHHH

Minimun wage, 
It resonants repeatedly
boiling in grease inside
and out.

Beeping and burns
Smiles and Thank yous.
False family financing, 
no better than Disney, 
damn maybe they are 
already Disney.


Details | Bio | |

Its all in a Night

Her barstool has six legs,
two are hers,
it plants her to the bar
and she is blooming like spring flowers.
Drinking in the spirits
from the bottles I serve her.
The smile she wears is false,
its from the bravado she drinks.
She lives with me,
calls herself mine,
but its the bottle that is really her home.
I only visit her 
and hold her dear,
because those moments seem to disappear.
I'm laughing at her as she shakes her butt 
                     to Johnny Paycheck,
while my hands move with speed and grace,
I'm serving the rednecks, cowboys
and other dubious charactors.
The girls are trying to look like movie stars
as mine waves at me,
she is teasing her way to a free drink,
but she always comes home with me.
Its past midnight
and everyone is tight,
laughing and being fools.
I'm the bartender,
leader of fools,
mixing their delights,
I light their smokes,
laugh at the bad jokes,
listen to their problems,
fix marriages
and broken hearts.
I'm the law 
and sometimes a nurse.
The night is over,
everyone is gone.
They're satisfied,
some found love for the night,
while others will be sleeping lonely,
but medicated.
I count the money,
peel my wife out of her barstool
and go home thinking,
its all in a night here at Cleve's,
I'm really just an actor
and the bar is my stage,
because all this isn't really me.
I'm just faking it,
lingering in the shadows
waiting for something else !






Details | Free verse | |

Paris Scene

A Parisian smile
Awakens and touches me
After years of being away;
Cobble-stoned street
Of silky chestnuts
Echoes the steps
Of shadowy lovers who
Embrace and whisper shared sighs.
Music spills out
Of neighborhood bistros
As an aged dilettante
Recites his poetry
While pouring the house wine
For nodding audience
In state of ennui
While sitting in the sidewalk cafe.


Details | Narrative | |

The Morning After

Sitting by the window at the Njogu-ini Hotel
I see my new people stream by
I can see them but they can’t see me
The window is a one way mirror 

So, this is how they look like 
Ordinary, though filled with immense purpose 
From this side of the window I can still feel their energy 
They are a people focused, a people determined
That is what it on the offset seems
But I know if most of them could be stripped within 
Much of what is common where I come from will be seen

They do have their fears
They too are enslaved by the system
They too do have their heartaches
They too have their poverty

The city may be defined by tall buildings 
And the streets lined with beautiful cars
But I believe astutely inside
They who mostly pass on foot outside 
Are victimised by the sites
	
Cars they can’t afford to buy
	Houses they can’t afford to rent
	The tall buildings are traps for their hard earned cash
	The supermarkets are large and their windows are lit bright
	Their purpose to lure and aptly tap
	The hard earned cash of my new cosmopolitan family

I pity them
Yet I adore their energy


Details | Free verse | |

CAPERS OF CARELESS HUMANS

Scattered plastic battles
and yesterday's newspapers
weren't tossed by a capricious wind,
blame this on the capers of careless humans.


I angrily watch them dispose of them where they sit....
on the seats of buses and trains as they stand up and rush out;
cities have their problems and littering increases abuse...
would anyone thinking of some kind of haven, do that with intent?


In my neighborhood I often observe a Chinese man picking up 
Pepsi bottles and newspapers while cars ignore him and speed up...  
doesn't he teach us to be neat, to clean after ourselves and be good people?
Many couldn't give a damn, leaving rubbish everywhere for the sanitation to pick up. 


You have heard my allegory...did it offend? 
Have you experienced it and really gotten you mad?
Who would walk at night, stepping on strewn trash, and fear the ugly rodents?
It's a social plague we can't cure, unless we clean up our act and try to make amends.




Details | Free verse | |

Livorno é in Tocana

Brilliant first morning rays 
chasing shadows across wavy 
slate roofs, along fortified stone walls,
just ahead of gently caressing 
salty ocean breezes,

ancient cobbled streets
and flowing canals echoing
the greeting of the day
from weary denizens stirring.

Stucco walls starkly contrasted
with creeping vines, bright yellow 
and red flowers adorn, waiting 
for plein-air artists 
to make them immortal.

Leathery old men with deep tans 
converge in plazas already bustling,
eager to share fishing stories
over board games and espresso

while they patiently wait for 
olives to ripen
and wine grapes to grow fat.  


Details | Senryu | |

Summer Pool

Summer Pool
Bikini time fun;
hanging ten by the cool pool,
grinning men enjoy.


Summer Season Senryu


Details | I do not know? | |

The Transparency of Selves

The Transparency of Selves.

Transparently unseen,
lonely souls walking on,
slipping between raindrops,
curling between folds of reality,
twisting in dreary, worn-out skins.

Moulting, peeling off, discarding,
worn-down corpses edging towards,
whistling crowds of leering stares,
wasted on insipid momentary sighs,
where collective consciences lay mute.

Opaque words flounder, seeking, begging,
wooden excuses swept up in dusty screams,
bellowing unspoken profanities in solitude,
sweltering amongst boneless patriarchs,
where impotence teeters on the brink of reason.

Rivers of unreason roll on, ceaselessly,
watering the sordid thoughts and empty voices,
filtering out warmth and empathy, drilling,
deeper into a callousness that embraces,
coddles, nourishing nothing but putrid decay.



Details | Free verse | |

Ode To Marla Ruzicka

Died in Baghdad, April 17, 2005

Nothing can stop her!
Not a  rocket
or an improvised
explosive devise
in spite 
of her untimely
death.
Just 28
and amongst 
the Greats.
Unyeilding campaigner
with unwavering faith
in something greater
than all the grenades
in the U.S. arsenal.
The greatness of love
of truth
eloquently spoken
by this petite woman.
Yet, a Goliath
in humans.
Her work
the simple act
of counting victims.
and compansate.

Marla dared 
to ask
who were 
the 100,000 plus
innocent civilians
that have died
in Iraq.
The sisters, brothers
fathers, mothers
babies
caught in the crossfire.
They had names
faces and dreams.

We sing to you
dear Marla.
There is nothing higher
than the acknowledgment
of life
and the strife
the grieving
the loss
the pain. 
Marla sweet angel
your work
remains
the most dignified
the most humane
of endeavors
in this
seemingly
overwhelming
insane world.
And no one 
not the president
and his mongers
not the apologist of war
can ever
take that away.



Dean Walker

Marla was the young founder of the nonprofit organization Campaign for innocent Victims in Conflict. To learn more about Marla or show your support visit her website at www.civicworldwide.org


Details | Narrative | |

CITY BY THE SHORE

                      
                            Pristine shores, their past erased by tidal grasp
                         Summer days, diamond sand and burning solarays
                    Observant camera eyes retrieve...photographic memories
                                        Sleepless nights, city scapes, 
               Its tourists' sights from vantage heights until daybreak
      City nights, secret rites, which darkness keeps,some cities never sleep
  Souvenir photographs telltale of passions veiled by distance strangers keep
           Enticed, foreign tourists reap culture shock and natives... paradise
                                Multi-culture, t.v. hype and nostalgic tales
                    Cheap sex and narcotics, black market products sales
                                  Gather souvenirs inexpensive and rare
               Day travel here and there, no tourist sight unspared
Tried and true, even old world culture is new,  remaining modern cultural affair 
             On an ocean shore jewel lights invite, which no one dare ignore
                              Earth's grand wonder...the city by  the shore


Details | Personification | |

I Am

I am something you hold when you miss,
And I am forgotten all but a gentle kiss!
I am the cold draft when you’re all alone.
And I am the smile that generates your happy home.
I am something for nothing but I’m more than most.
And I am your summer breeze, I am your host.
I am the tear that falls from your eyes,
And I am the light that outshines your lies.
I am the flutter in your beating heart,
And I am the breath that gives you a fresh start.
I am the lump in your throat when lost for words,
And I am the silence you have always heard.
I am the warmth traveling in your blood,
And I am the memory you instantly flood.
I am the dream you’ve always had,
And I am the one with you happy or sad.
I am the one that always told you so,
And I am the only person you positively know.
I am taken and given because I just am,
And I am exactly what I am,
And not even by you will I be jammed!
 
© Copyright  Ann Rich   2006


Details | Free verse | |

Eskisehir hikayesi

Unuttum zamanin sensiz akisini 
Yudumladigim buruk tatli corbada
Gonderdigim ipek mendilim
Ay dogmus gun akti isigina
Bir girdaptir yasam gulum
Bozkirdan goge uzanan merdiven
Donan cayi basan sel yar dinlemez
Cektimde kurtardim balcigindan
Frigyanin kaybolmus hazinesini
Unutulmus kaynayan sulardan
Salinan yarim al endamli basma
Dans eder Porsugun sularinda


Details | Free verse | |

Crimson

I dwell in the color
red
the lust of its accent infects
me and transforms my
nationality and allegiances

the taste of its blood
charges my heart and calls
to my ancestral rage
for death and expansion

its velvet density
comforts my sleeplessness
and controls the constant
discussion that plays out
over and over
in a darkened corner of my mind

I cannot exist without
its passionate embrace nor 
breathe without its 
whisper

my heaven is painted
red
I am
its lust
its blood
its velvet
its passion

its slave…


Details | Rhyme | |

Have You Felt Like Giving Up Lately

Have you felt like giving up… 
Lately?
As the problems in life have
been building up greatly…

Is there something in life that’s 
“dragging you down?”
Any peace and joy in life
can’t be found?

Perhaps you feel like: “There’s no
 use for me trying.”
Everything I’ve tried isn’t working
 nor is satisfying.”

I have GOOD NEWS!  Please listen to
 what I have to say!
There’s someone I know who
 can change you today!

Jesus is here now!  
And is waiting for you!
The choice is yours…  
What will you do?

He can pick up the “broken pieces”
 and be your friend
He’ll bring true joy and 
forgiveness within.

He alone can bring fulfillment
 and content.
No matter how many “wasted years” 
 you may have spent……

A message of salvation and
 a new life you can obtain!
Simply reach out to him…  
And call on HIS name!

By Jim Pemberton
06/26/09


Details | Verse | |

Sanctity

Lifting eyes I see a vision.
Senses feel cool crisp mountain air.
I know not my mortal mission.
Though this glory I hereby share.
Rising peak of Heavens highlands,
Paradise, our ecstasy withstands.


written for
Sponsor john freeman 
Contest Name New Contest: Another, Nature Verse 


Details | Free verse | |

The City

Everywhere you look there are skyscrapers,
Everywhere around you there is noise,
Everyone around you is busy,
Everywhere you turn there are people,
Daily traffic swallows the highways,
The sidewalks are flooded with people,
construction workers and buisness poeple,
GO through with this everyday.
The sound of cars honking is constant,
Along with the pattern of footsteps,
people with always come and go,
As they pass throug the difficult city.
It always seems as if you are in a dream,
Where everything just passes you by,
And the, finally, when the day is done,
You feel as if it hasn't even come yet.
The city is tiring, busy and loud,
It where everyone seems to be,
The city might be the perfect place for you,
But it's not for me.


Details | Senryu | |

The House of the Lord

the house of the Lord
devotees are coming in,
gossipers’ around



Details | Rhyme | |

Equality with Respect

All around us
Has to go on
Us, we humans
Should sing the same song
 
Where we are
And where we be
Its the same rules
In any country
 
To treat each other just the same
Sing together, play the game
Banish the grief
End the pain
 
Eradicate 
Our festered parts
Unite neighbourhoods
Restart


Details | Senryu | |

Tailgating Slam

Tailgate party time
Chicken, steak, baby back ribs
Quarterback show down


Details | Rhyme | |

The Shrinking World

The towns are filled with traffic
the country is full of trains,
the seas are full of boats and ships
the skies are filled with planes.

The population is growing fast
there's little room to spare,
and if a space is found
they build houses everywhere.

This world of ours is now so small
survival now depends,
on whether we can live together
or at least be friends.


Details | Quatrain | |

Get to Work

Men at work, bumper to bumper
tensile traffic, thick black bitumen.
Everything seems to last longer 
then that grey granulated concrete

that extends from Bodega, Cali-
fornia to Savannah, Georgia.
Blacktop pot-fill smells like
the solid and searing work of roofers;

hardhat knuckle down workers,
men that stretch skyscraper towers,
or suspend themselves over
the ledge of the Golden Gate Bridge.

If only this endless line of steel
on rubber wheels could steam roll
past the frustrated flashing lights
and pinstriped lattes honking horns.

If only these orange jump suites,
(sloth shaped men on armrest shovels,)
spent less time blathering like this poem,
we’d all be able to get to work. 




Details | Ballad | |

CARRYING ALONG THAT SECRET

Gradma singing her passionate Neapolitan songs 
from a balcony adorned with scarlet roses...her deep voice
not a soprano's, but delightful and expressed in humaneness;
her long golden hair brushed by the summer's aromatic breeze, 
to spark a new passion in her lively blue eyes!
And has she ever told anyone about 
carrying along that secret?

When grandpa left Italy, in clandestine  disguise,
for a long, hopeful jeouney to America in the late thirties,
grandma sacrificed and suffered much;  and when the Nazis
invaded the peaceful town of Baiano,
grandma made trips to the  small mill in Arciano,
to grind grain and make her delicious bread:
encountering many dangers and fears ahead...
making her the heroine History won't recognize! 
Have the historians overlooked her incredible courage,
and let her carry along that secret?

Women  and young ladies, including grandma, adored
the handsome and fearless man Mussolini,
who resuscitated the old concept of the Roman Empire with evil ways...
manipulating the puppet' hands of the loyal Fascisti;
woe to me, if I had lived and rebelled in those dreadful days:
I would have been imprisoned and possibly been killed!
Out of grief and anger, I speak against 
every injustice and not carry along that secret! 

My uncle, Stefano, was taken to England  by the British
as a prisoner of war...a coerced man so torn;
and Emma a kind-hearted English woman ,
and a lovely nurse with an impeccable humanity,
visited him often and brought him a home-cooked dish;
someting wonderful could have bloomed between them...
but all records and details have been lost instead,
and mine rely entirely on faded pictured filled with memory!
  
What unthinkable steps, the dictators of this earth take, to gain
their day in an unpromising sun:  suddenly power and pride...gone;   
Hitler's land devastated by the armies of justice...
with no shot-down bodies falling into self-dug ditches! 
Powerful people could have prevented this inhumane slaughter with haste,
but  silently watched them die... carrying along that secret!


Details | Verse | |

The sun rested on western slopes

Three storey Queen Anne  house
set  far  back  behind green yards
With far reaching sparkling  views
Profusion of flora fruit-laden vines
Chickens clucking near front gate
Polished wood with leaded glass
Double doors powdered  gauzed
Elaborate  deep  wine  wallpaper 
Delicate  face  framed  in red hair
Highlights  vermillion green  eyes
High waisted muslin gown  flows
French  words  rolled out  lyrically 
Perfumed with  blooming flowers
Clever cat buried in feather down
Favorite  spot  ancient  tree  trunk


Details | Concrete | |

Didactic Time

I lose track of time and
I lose track of myself. In
the crowded streets I
constantly check my watch
to ground myself in reality.

I jostle my way through the
crowd and find my watch
missing. I panic and hail
a cab. I leave it all behind
in didactic Times Square.


Details | Rhyme | |

Country Club

Lure of luxury
Mingle with the elite
I will be swept off my feet
Impressive facilities
Appalling abilities
I want to improve
And find a social groove
Big money I will pay
So that I can play
I love my sports
And people of all sorts
Something is not right
I analyse my plight
Money is their game
I’m just a name
Polite to my face
Another verbal ace
Conned I feel
What a rip off deal
Not destined for a good time
Didn’t expect the three month leaving fine


Details | Cowboy | |

In the Hills of South Dakota

In the cold and rolling hills of a barren South Dakota,
On bleak and uncaring reservations of the Lakota,
Live both the ancient and the young of a once proud native race—
Living with America, whiskey and a fall from His grace.

We now bring contributions of food and clothes on Christmas Eve—
Given by those who know their plight as we smile and slowly leave.
Over a hundred years now and their progress still seems too slow—
A once noble people clinging to a past they’ll never know.

And what is the price of progress when we conquered the Old West
And took the proud Indian down a trail that we thought was best?
And what of free range, a way of life – the country we stood for?
We hid it on reservations so it would haunt us no more.

So we ride past reservations – think that we have done our best,
As time erases memories of a people and the West—
Once a year we sooth our egos and add money to the pot,
Hoping time heals miseries and we can keep what we have got. 

In the cold and rolling hills of a barren South Dakota,
On bleak and uncaring reservations of the Lakota,
Live both the ancient and the young of a once proud native race—
Living with America, whiskey and a fall from His grace.  


Details | Verse | |

Madman Chronicles

Staggered by the virus burning through the city veins,
Stop motion, speeded up, the slam of distant trains,
Rattled through the concrete as forgotten people die,
Howling jets of power chords go crashing through the sky.
The cardboard jungle stretches out along the seamy streets,
Where grimy flesh of down and outs use newspapers for sheets
And sleep with crazy fetishes that slice and dice the skull,
Narcosis bred by pills and soup make all the senses dull.
The rail-yard cauldron simmering with cabbages and rats,
Skin and fur of vermin bleeding protein in the vats,
It tastes of pulped up sewer waste distilled by Mr Hyde,
The methylated spirits put some flavour back inside.
Leaned up against the siding now corroded through with rust,
The corrugated blackened bones of asbestos and dust,  
Insanity, reality, all sympathy gone up in flames,
Lunacy screams at the moon and calls the symptoms names.
Down here it doesn’t matter what the poets choose to write,
The road to hell is paved with good intentions every night,
The only thing that means a damn is death will set us free 
Of all the madman chronicles of sociology. 


Details | Free verse | |

Holy War

   Sorrow soars on the celestial sphere
On wings of silver birds
Distraught are the comforts of many
Given to pleasure of the prophet of man 
Armed with the gospel of Allah.
   A gesture to the flying protector of the Holy Land
A powerful hand to coerce collapse
This message of greater value
Has been returned unto you 
A cavernous exile.
   Gods collide 
To the messenger gives doctrine
One shall command annihilation of many
A clash of faith, departed
The innocents.
   Unto Israel your anger flows
Yet the Eagle fly’s near, watching
To the Heavens you seek for knowledge 
Interpretations defined
The proclamation of war indefinite.
   Deceptions in patience arise
One God’s fury strikes
Fear translates into understanding 
Bolts of heightened steel take flight
To bring to not, the Eagles castle.
   Souls of vacant bodies speak
A new army for the war
Upon the Mount of Olives they stand
Waiting for the messenger of Allah
To oppose the will of YHWH.	
   And the Eagles wings held flight
Screeching down upon the messenger; punishment
This Holy Land remains the dream
Immortal direction subsided
Israel stands keeper of the gate
Holy war.


Details | Rhyme | |

The World we Live in

The World we Live in
As from the window i look out
Killings and maiming
Can they all be devout

What religion, has the right to say
Who lives or dies's on any given day
Whether Islamic or Hindu, Catholic or Christian
If there are these Gods, they sure ain't listening

This World we Live in
Has seen horror's aplenty
From alleged leaders, not quite so saintly.
As they led their killers, to rape and pillage
In many countries, and many a village

Leaders like Hitler, Pol Pot & Stalin
Order their Generals, don't pity the fallen
Murderous rages, in cities and towns
Women and children, the elderly mown down

What do we see in our public life
Similar scenes, but not so rife
From Columbine, Dunblane & Hungerford past
Will there be enough of us left, for us humans to last

As i look out my window, what us humans should see
Is The World we Live in, and live violence free
Who has the right, to slay a neighbour or friend
Simple sanity, or plain round the bend

I really don't know how to resolve the above
Man's inhumanity, and turn it to love
The journey of change, has taken a turn
Due to the appointment of Obama, where we will all learn

The explosion of vote, for the new President above
Is what the world needed, to give it a shove
Out of all the people i would most like to meet
This guy heads the list, shake his hand as we greet

And what i mean, from these words above
He has the Aura to turn, loose the white doves
With the help of the leaders, who think the same way
Will make this World safer, for Generations one day

So in the future as i read this again
There will be much compassion, and a lot less pain
The World we all Live in, will work rest and play
Generations living, as they should - every day


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life.php


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bohemia Beatnik Cafe

Hey,hey! It's the Bohemia Cafe!Barry and Kirra'd greet you and say
"Hi there! Pleased to meet Chai!"
Barry and Kirra they say had a crazy Cafe where musicians would
go to jam and play.
You'd go...Through the kitchen and down the secret staircase to the 
round dusty table where people 
played for hours.`
When Barry met Kirra their world revolved around the Bohemia Cafe
the story is told...
You could go there anytime to order coffee,chat and listen to Kirra
play "Gypsy Caravan"on her clarinet.
Once you bought your coffee, Kirra would never bother you to clear your
table or buy another cup.
Sometimes customers would do the dishes,and at one stage Barry's
curries were quite delicious.
Then you'd go through the kitchen,down the narrow,steep staircase
to the secret lounge room of the Bohemia Cafe.
Every Sunday night an Irish Orchestra would swarm and settle in the cafe.
and the other musicians would go downstairs to play.
On Teusday nights people would come for chess to win their quests,while
guests happily blended at their own tables.
Poetry nights were Wednesdays and occasionally  some almost famous 
poets would gather,recite and be toastmasters for the night....
Till the tension grew so thick in the smoke-filled joint,you could
cut it with a knife.
Yes, the point is...the Bohemia
was in its heyday in the 1990's.
Many an artist and poet would have
gone there.
It reminds me of what a true 
"Beatnik" cafe would've been like.

 



Details | Rhyme | |

Have You Taken The Time To Let God Know

Have you taken the time to tell 
God how much you love him?
He is awesome and there is no greater
power that's "above him"

Have you taken the time to tell
God how thankful you are?
The one who formed the earth,
the heavens and the stars...

Have you taken the time to thank him for his grace?
His beauty and glory are seen all over the place...

Have you taken the time to meditate
on his words given?
The Bible needs to be the direction
for the way you're livin'!

Have you taken the time to think
 about all that he's done?
You're here today because
of the sacrifice of his son!

Have you taken the time to think
 of his beautiful creation?
He rules above all kings, presidents, or any nation...

Have you thought about the planets
in the heavens above?
All that we can see is a reflection
of his power and great love!

Have you thought about the relationship
 this God wants with you?
He's waiting to come into your life.
What will you do?

Think for just a moment of heaven's
special invitation...
Won't you accept the Lord 
and his free gift of salvation.?

Think about God's gift of life that is
offered to you and me...
Christ can change you and give you life abundantly!

By Jim Pemberton   
04/18/11


Details | Senryu | |

Dad's Coming Home Late

dad’s coming home late
overtime at the office
perfect alibi


Details | Lyric | |

Hate You Now


I saw the news today

I'd like to know what the hell you're trying

I want to find away

to silence you, and stop all the dying

You think you're above the law

You'll send to die just as many as you want to

Damnedest thing I ever saw

the mess you've made doesn't even seem to daunt you

You spit in our eyes and say
I'm gonna hate you now

because you are more evil than I am

and I'm gonna hate you now

cause I hate your point of view

I'm gonna hate you now

cause daddy's so proud

and mamma's still crying

and I'm gonna hate you now

cause my God told me to
When will it ever end

You'd think you would have learned by now

and what about you my friend

could you please tell me how

How will we find our way

when the God you pray to is a fat cash cow

who'll stand up and say

This has got to end.

but you slap mommas face and say
I'm gonna kill you now

because you are more wicked than I am

and I'm gonna kill you now

cause I hate your point of view

I'm gonna kill you now

My daddy's so proud and momma keeps crying

and I'm gonna kill you now

cause my God told me to.

Manipulation games

and broken promises from long ago

You put out the Lady's' flame

You'll reap what you sew

The children have to pay

Old men, and old women too 

they just get in the way

of the bombs I drop on you

I'm gonna hate you now

because you've always hated me

I'm gonna hate you now

For all the oil that I've bought

I'm gonna hate you now

Cause hate is all I've got

How will you return 

all the lives that you have wasted

watch the babies burn

Say this will keep us free

I wish you'd drink the blood

I wish that I could make you taste it

You've never understood
and you refuse to see
You turn your back on God and say
I'm gonna kill you now

because you are more wicked than I am

and I'm gonna kill you now

cause I don't agree with you

I'm gonna kill you now

cause Daddy's so proud and Mama's still crying

and I'm gonna kill you now

cause killings what I do

When will it ever end

You'd think you would have learned by now

what about you my friend

could you please tell me why

why can't he see the sin

of worshiping that fat cash cow 

just look at the mess we're in

You're killing for a lie


Details | Free verse | |

Inflected Speech

 Inflected Speech 
Inflected Speech 
 
 
She said “is this all that you are getting this morning” 
OH the connotations of that speech 
There is at least three interpretations of inflected speech in me. 
Eye was in the Market and the bread was spendy to me eye added peppers not 
so many seven in the bag to total out quite less the two dollars for the me. Was it 
not enough? was she the gruff store owner selling stuff or just concerned for the 
young man's anatomy the love inside the heart? Eye turned to stone and got rock 
hard and answered not. But wait it could even be just simple courtesy. 
She is not in love with me but she is a girl endowed and wondering 
at a man so poor as to buy only bread and peppers instead of meat that most 
Neanderthal sportsmen eat. Mabe just mabe she thought of me. Or like a lover 
and a wife and a mother yes eye did eye heard all that from such a young young 
woman behind a counter of command. But then she is nice to other men and 
they buy none. 
They push the envelope with me they grunt. 
Who pays for all the meat they eat they do not complete my smile or ask for bread 
afforded me eye smiled in vain to help no one today. 
My meat is added to the bread to make the table for my head the meat is meat 
you knoe not of complete. 
If she thinks me poor than t'was a miss. Amiss she is the miss. 
And now eye smile at this my poem made in jest. A test of one more day of life. 



Details | I do not know? | |

High School

Ah, that smell of bread from Home Ec.,
Just can't be real to me,
Because school just seems to be a part of everyone's misery,
But then I realize
The bread from there is as real as a bakery's.
And when I'm with my friend,
The fun of bugging her in the hallways
Never seems to end.

Then I take one more look at what school is like,
I begin to admit to myself
That it's not so bad,
But when my mother gets mat at me
About homework
I stress about how hard it all seems
And think that my teachers are all jerks.
But I always finish it off in the end,
And then the whole cycle goes around again.
The truth is, I always change my mind and say
My teachers are so nice that I could consider them friends,
Sometimes I only pretend to like them.

But what's worse then teachers
Is how I see people smoke
And hear their choices about drinking and parties.
I stare at them and think, "They're gonna be really ugly..."
'Cause I'll never give into peer pressure,
Because my only pleasures are a lot better.

High school is such a big thing,
That when the bell rings
A rush of students go up and down the stairs.
Once you get to class,
Sems like the assignment you get is a pain in the ass,
And it feels like the day will never end,
Especially if you don't have a friend.

I always want to sleep-in, but when I wake up
I think school is so lame,
And sometimes I sleep through the whole day.
And when the sky is grey,
It always seems to be trying to say
That there should be no sun rays on a day at school.
But then, I think through it again and believe that there will
Always be good and bad things in whatever life will bring.


Details | Sonnet | |

THE SORCERER'S EERIE SKULL

Dug out of an Etruscan crypt,
the sorcerer's eerie skull
will be used for an evil act...
amid lightening, darkness and gull.
The lad with frightened eyes screams
while they chant rhymes of a dead witch,
" Don't let me die...loose the ropes, please! "
she pleads to the tall High Priest Mitch.
Wandering wolves smell fresh blood,
the first drop stains her white gown...
they grunt not afraid of the man in hood,
or of the gruesomeness of his frown. 

He lifts the eerie skull without any sheen...
the wolves attack that sorcerer so mean! 



Saga


Details | List | |

My Memories

Take a ride within my mind,

It took a lot to make this:

7 close friends,

2 caring parents,

12 years of schooling,

1 loving dog,

5 years of mental illness,

1 video camera,

19 years of life.

Never forgotten, always implanted,
 
Within my memories.


Details | Free verse | |

Dew Drop Inn

There was a place called Dew Drop Inn
In that place, you could find many a friend
As long as you drank beer, wine, whiskey or gin
There was always some-one surrounding you 
Happily obliging to join in with you
Dancing and singing often off key
Didn’t matter to the barkeep 
He was always as pleased as can be
Especially when customers spent more than fifty 
When time to close before he would turn the key
He would state "Thank you for coming friends
To the Dew Drop Inn, Please Do Drop in Again" 


Details | I do not know? | |

Who Rings...

When the bell rings...and just to fit with time...
What season are you in then...
No calling...other then the bells...
Can be heard...for the miles they sound...
Carry on with the work they do...
Each makes it's own mark...
It's own tune...just a step from each...
So no two are alike...when the bell's ring...
Now more then before...what songs come alive...
What has open new tunes...
Who knew...the sounds they bring...
For many stop just to listen...
Without knowing who rings...


Details | Monoku | |

EVERYBOBY HAS RIGHTS

rights has no corlor
for all  sisters and brothers
pull one anuthers
to see the light
stan s up and fight
EVERYBOBY HAS
RIGHTS


Details | I do not know? | |

Inside the Bar (Septolet)


Strutting, 
young felines
on stage.

Dawdling 
man, awaken 
by heat 
of their prowling lips.




Details | Rhyme | |

The Chocolate Tree

A complex Composition may take a long time to compose....

Several female figures communicating their relaxed relationship

within a safe , stylish comfortable environment  or harvesting

of the fruits, like a Van Gogh metamorphisis.   Several figures 

in the field working within an orchard environment.

Selecting ,reaching, placing , gathering and  singing rythmically.
 
Oranges , apples or grapes and carrying  a woven cane basket. 

Working in the field, on the land , organically without machinery.

Chocolate grows only  3 degrees north or south of the equator.*

The oblong knobbly pod  is not particularly attractive , it looks a bit

like a custard apple and grows directly out from the  trees' trunk . 

The sound of drums reverberating through the lush, humid forest.

The Chocolate tree was originally discovered in the deep , dense,

dark canopy covered rainforests of South Americas and was 

used as a mood enhancer , possibly also an entrancer in  rituals. 

Explorers carefully carried and contained the revered cacoa seed,

thinking nothing much of its bitter taste.

Introduced and redeveloped  in Europe from the fifteenth century.

When the pod is cut open it looks a bit like a custard apple again.

Dark, waxy seeds embedded within a pulpy flesh here and there. 
It is  Cocoa seeds that are used to make our favorite chocolate!

*(A  few feet either way North or South of the Equator , water swirls
   downwards  clockwise 4 North and anticlockwise 4 South.}




Details | Free verse | |

The Butler Made Me Do It

Where shall I go ?

             What shall I do   ?


                 Frankly      

                My  Dear
           
     I  Don't   Give   A    Dam


For I am  Gone With The Wind
In search of that Rhett Butler
Other Girls Can Dream Too LOL





Tribute To Great Movies


Details | Sonnet | |

The Note

I was corner-stoned by many of you.
The note was dotted with a dash.
But this note was an ultimate smash.
I found a peephole and peeped through.
 
I found a bird gave him the note and away he flew,
Across the deserts and the valleys he was there in a flash,
Across the rivers and Oceans he made a great big splash.
He made it to the shore, but the note he began to chew.
 
He passed a timely test,
And his belly was full,
He did not stop to rest,
The note he had to pull.
 
The bird landed on the Oceans shore,
Singing praises of his rugged chore.


Details | Rhyme | |

Pass It On

a piece of bread
is what god had said

take it for it is I through the body of Christ
now to me that is quite a sight

as it lays amidst 
my hands tonight

for I often think of my brothers and sister in africa
and often think of them not being tucked in their beds

I often think of their innocent children 
who are lying dead

and I often keep thinking
of what God had said

so tonight I come to 
share my wine and bread instead 

with those others who may
have not been watered or fead

as my tears start to now shed
and start flowing beads of red

for it's the blood of christ
lost during his plight

so as I stare at this cup also tonight
I sip and pass it with being so polite

to my brothers and sisters in christ
for it leaves me feeling sheer delight


Tribute To Our Lord

Also Entry To Sami Al Khahli's
A Piece Of Bread Contest


Details | Free verse | |

Night Sounds / Night Thoughts

Endless train whistles,
At the limits of one's hearing,
Never farther away,
Seemingly never, ever nearing...

Sirens shrill screech,
At times of their own choosing,
The pulse of mountain winds,
Never gaining, never losing,

Honking winged geese,
A satire of city cabs?,
In cloud bound nature's streets,
Small planes coming and going,
In a parade of me wondering,
but, never knowing,
Where they might have come from,
And where they now are going...

Abandoned homes,
Abandoned dreams,
Stars sparkle in a
mockery of fate,
Who was the last to leave that home?
And what might have been the date?

Will bears soon be wandering
down city streets,
Perhaps shopping for a new coat?
Wild dogs in packs attacking anything?
The bray of feeding goats?

My silent snores go unappreciated now,
There's no one to say "Good Night",
The body aches, my will it strains,
I have no one to share my pains...

Empty pockets stress my hope,
It takes all my will to cope,
Where has everybody gone to?
Has everyone gone to the moon?
I await my turn to join them,
I pray it will be coming soon...

Or am I left here to guard the past?
For me to be the very last?
To witness what the fates have cast?
To experience decay first hand,
Through the hour glass's ebbing sand,
How pointless time does then stand,
Not like a full head of hair..
But a single, lone strand?

Me, the lone keeper of times no more,
As giant machines still hum busily,
No one now to know their purposes,
now or then for sure....

And now you must go too...
I wonder, I wonder,
What I will do?
Alone, books and ink,
My sole companions till
my ship does finally sink?
I eye the rifle in the corner...
Maybe the rules God will bend...
If I use it as my ticket to tranquility,
For, at least, my pain to end?

Yes, at its worst,
No more pain...
Sure it is forbidden,
But reasons to live seem to drain...
No one to say Goodnight to,
No one to say Good Morn...
No one to hear me question...
Why I was ever born...

To those who complain of pressures,
Of work, of family....
Could sit in my chair,
eyes opened...
And see what I can see...
I'd work 24 hours a day,
7 days a week,
And enjoy every responsibility,
To care for friends and family...
& work 60 hours a week,
& feel the difference,
Paycheck but a bonus,
And, see
& gain a new point of reference,
And from that very day,
You'll see the value of your life,
In a very, very, new way.





Details | Lyric | |

Home Is A Home

Home is a home...
Where family keeps love
Georgia is not my homeland
But...I'm home now


Details | Rhyme | |

DNA

DNA can put you away
in a place where the sun don’t shine,
where the jail guitar doors and catwalk floors
jangle into the base of the spine.

Know the drill with years to kill
and tramp ‘round the exercise yard,
mark the time and toe the line
or someone will mark your card.

Fingerprints play all night and day
on piano keys hard and fast,
from ivory smudge, a hanging judge
spoke a tuneless sentence passed.

A moonlight sonata with Frankie Sinatra
could beat you to pulp and grue,
you pray and hope, keep your soap on a rope,
don’t bend over to tie your shoe.

“You’ve got to believe, I warrant reprieve,
I’m innocent, framed, can’t you tell?”
Comes the reply: “In a dead pig’s eye,
you and everyone else here as well!”


Details | Blank verse | |

Welcoming Warm Hearth of Home

A warm comforting home environment environment adorned with
paintings, cushions,flowers, soft couches, afternoon sunlight
Streaming through laced windows breathing out cooking aromas
of chicken soup and incense fragrance of musk and lavender.
Smiles and Grandmas  hugs with milk , cookies and fresh linen.
Dainty flower prints on cotton fabrics, blue and white china teapot.
Gentle crackling of a warm fireplace curled puppy fast asleep on a rug.
Whistling kettle punctured with gentle laughter around a card table.
"Last Card!"  A guest makes a call ...until he is handed a three
"Ohhh?" He picks up three cards and everybody laughs.
Vanilla ,Chocolate and coconut wafts in from the kitchen. 
Grandma is making  her famous three-tiered chocolate torte.
Strains of Fleetwood Mac filter through from another room.
Mum has just arrived with the shopping the pup rushes exitedly.


Details | I do not know? | |

mexico hurt my soul

strip club in mexico
i went there today
didn't have a drink
or time to think
my heart
it just
wouldn't get past
the fast fickle lust
it would not let me think
thought i might bust
and break into
a teary sobbing lake
at that time

i feel regret
i let
my friend pay a girl
to go out back
and give herself away
twenty dollars was all she was
worth to him
maybe i can just buy new friends
the ones i have right now
drive me to want to
be much better than 
they are
complaining forever
again and again and again
about the little luxuries they
live without
while we weld a fence of steel
to keep these desperate
imigrants out
of our country
land of the free 
home of the brave
home of slaves
to greed 
false sense of need
uncaring and selfish

well i won't reserve
this love
for a dollar sign
they don't deserve 
if they have to pay
for a body like mine
i'm not that way anymore
not that kind
of way and 
nothing and no one
for

mexico
i went there today
was a standing witness
to true blue desperate
and quiet 
fake bliss
will i go there again
don't think i will
just build this fence
and go home
back to south dakota
because i just want to be done
the us army isn't always
much fun
mexico isn't what it's cracked up to be
but sometimes
neither is the land of the brave
and the home of the free


Details | I do not know? | |

A pity

You’ve seen it before
Never spoke of
The hapless Individual
Helpless in principle
Mercy, out of sale
Withered broke frail
Teenage angst
Hand me down hate
Weaken by the irate
A sitting bomb
Counts and waits
One last push
To the point to agitate
And detonate
An unjust fate
Could have saved 
Should have stayed
Didn’t manage a role
Hunting pack cruel
Achieved enlightenment
Silent excitement


Details | I do not know? | |

Organic or Not...

Fields that flow into your space...
Does this move you...
What connection has been used...
Who are you...
Are you one with the organic...
You smell like a organic...
Adding fields around your space...
 Will this lead to the growth...
Organic or not ...
Man made...trouble...
And what laws are you following...
Nothing says you cannot grow...
A few might even tell you where...
What happens when your fields flow into anothers...space...
Can this controlled organic be stopped...
Who are you...
Are you one...like me...
Simplify organic...



Details | Sonnet | |

The Handy Man

The handy man is always available by my night or day.
I’m being stringent to say my very least to his very best.
All potential clergymen are put through his trickery test
Oh my God at these odds and ends his mind dare weigh.
 
He is intricately susceptible in light seeking a pardoned way,
He overcomes the homeliest just by his daily authentic quest.
In about a day or two will come his much timely needed rest!
Estranged in a time of several times where his mind did stray.
 
Caught up in clouds he drifts yet further away slicing thin.
Pondering many thoughts per milliseconds flood his gates.
Consuming ideas overwhelm his deep words drawn within.
He forms heaps of potential until he himself smears slates.
 
Single handedly he comes with his charts already mapped with my plan!
After all, he is quite elaborate when I exclusively need my Handy Man!


Details | Quatrain | |

A stranger place

I'm just a stranger here
the neighbors smiling at me from ear to ear
I've been gone for far too long
even though it's only the first year

There are sparrows walking this ground
a scarecrow stand forgotten and on the porch a dead coon hound
This is a nexus, a rip in my common space
I'm standing amidst this crowd but I'm no where to be found

And raindrops are falling beneath my feet
A mother losing her way hangs up her bedroom sheet
I want to run away from this melancholy shame
but there are so many faces here forcing us to meet

The sharper the knife the duller the man
My daddy had once said this but how was I to understand
that a man aint just a body walking around a town
and that if a life he takes then he's to be judged by the land

There is blood on the highway, yet no body to be seen
all these empty ghosts here must make it Halloween
but I'm just another puppet opening up a closet
just to see the backyard to find out what it might mean


Details | Senryu | |

Unsettled

soldiers in the desert
poised with weapons at bay.
tanks butcher the sand.


Details | I do not know? | |

MEMORIAL DAY

What will you do this Memorial Day? 
Is it just another day off,  
For fun and getting away? 
Will you picnic with friends and family, 
In your usual way? 
 
Will you stop to remember those, 
Who have been and gone, 
Or will you forget what this day is about, 
And just move on? 
 
Will you stop by a loved one's 
Final resting place that day, 
To lay flowers of love, 
And pay tribute in your own special way? 
 
Will you stop by the grave of a fallen soldier, 
Be they a stranger or friend, 
Paying your respect to them, 
For their willingness to fight for our freedoms, 
To the bitter end? 
 
Will you look at your country's flag, 
Each and every hue, 
And remember that each color, 
Has meaning to me and to you? 
 
To me, the red represents, 
The blood that's been shed, 
By those who have protected our country, 
And are now dead. 
 
To me, the blue represents, 
Patriotism at its best, 
For each one who died, 
Did so to defend our country's interests. 
 
The white, to me, represents, 
The faith, purity and loyalty of all who died, 
Thinking only of their country, 
And putting their personal interests aside. 
 
So now as you plan your Memorial Day, 
Hang our country's flag high, 
And stop for a moment of silence, 
Paying tribute to all who've passed away, 
That we might make it to, 
Another Memorial Day.


Details | Free verse | |

Haricot from Baton Rouge

(Aieee! We Gon’ Pass A Good Time Yeah Cher …Enjoy et Laisez les bons temps rouler)


Haricot was tall and quite lean
In English they would call him String Bean
Haricot would often travel down the Bayou
by way of pirogue to visit with his sister Sue  

Every one knew when Haricot came through
The morning would start with the smell of Roux
Caf Noir, Hot hush puppy’s and biscuits too
one could feel music of the zydeco by mid-afternoon 

And Haricot would shout Laisez les bons temps rouler 
The town folk and kinfolk alike would gather that day
Some found sipping on bourbon  and café au lait 
while awaiting the succulent taste of Cochon de lait 

Oh the savory taste of Lagniappe which filled the air
All truly possessed  la Joie de vivre 
Consuming Andouille and Boudin flavored with the Bouquet Garni 
Children could be found nibbling on sweet Beignet 

While elders could be found playing a game of Bouree' 
The women would have prepared jambalaya, Gumbo’s, Grillades
As the sunsets all will have ate every thing from their bowls and plates
And all would begin again to dance  Fais-do-do 
Haricot would shout too all and his sister Sue 

Mon cher, mon cher sûrement ceci est la vie
Good music good friends, family, dancing and cuisine
ceci habite véritablement Sue et tout agreed


 


Details | Free verse | |

in lou's room

find a place

to 

waste

 time

pour a lighter head

for heavy hearts

leave the world listening

to songs with the bite

of good beer

bad smoke

and better company

a marriage of six

strings and a pack

paul got the prophets' words 

alright 

except 

they're written

not on tenement halls

but scratched

with keys 

too sodden to use

on smoke-black walls












Details | I do not know? | |

Soup Group

To all my fellow poets in the group

Around the world we make the loop

The support and kind words on the net

Gives us motivation, you can bet

It is that time of year

I would like to extend Christmas cheer

To all my fellow net poets every where

MERRY CHRISTMAS from here 

To All of YOU out there.


Details | Free verse | |

under siege

I goggled my powered screen
And saw venom founded smiling faces
I watched tongues dance in deceit
And there chameleon lips
Bounced and marched to this ignominy.

They propagate their obvious robbery
With unconvincing window-dress
And celebrates their heinousness
By camoflagging this mist-free fraud
Jaw agape,on my tongue a sweet liquid descend.

What is this they've given life?
That enveloped the day in darkness
Mere anarchy, cut loose eventually
By these sheep skinned wolves
We afore-elected in ignorance.
To hold on; they turn their bloody self.

Alas! our screams reach not a drum
But their whispers fill all ears.
The decision we strenuously made
With the lines adorning our thumbs
Has been quashed by these gangsters,
And to their mercy our future lies.

Lisabi, Oronna, where lies your eyes
Obanta et al, why remain so muted
And watch them deface 
Your hard founded land.


Details | Rhyme | |

Where Jesus Is Is Where I Want To Be



Where Jesus Is… Is Where I Want To Be! Where Jesus is… Is where I want to be! He is the one I want to be with…. For eternity! Where Jesus lives… I want to be in my heart! I want him living in me, till one day I shall “depart.” Where Jesus leads… I want to be in this place! I want to be led by his tender mercy and grace! What Jesus does… I know will be what’s best! As long as I trust him… I shall be blessed! What Jesus says to me…. I want to surely listen! Anything he has for me… I don’t want to be missin’! What Jesus wants me to do… I want to do it! He’s given me many opportunities… But “I blew it!” What Jesus wants to give to me… I want to receive it! He promises to always be with me! I believe it! Whatever I have… I give to Jesus my king. He’s my righteousness. He’s my everything! Wherever I may end up in this life I call “my own.” I pray that one day shall be in God’s eternal home! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

Great Photo Tag Show!!!

Taking photographs is really great
 Ideally this snapper has such taste
  Moved between Oakland and DC
   So that’s the way it’s gonna be 
    By diving into his poetic blog
     Will undo your writer’s clog
      Read his lines and you will find
       Every syllable is truly refined
        With words of hope for the soul
         Leaves the reader with stories untold
          Yes, William poetry also has zest 
           Now he is being put to the real test
            Hello my friend William Jones
             We are here to pick some bones
              You better raise the white flag
               Because you have just been tagged!




Comments:  Okay Bill, I was tagged by Carol Brown.  As a result, I have to pass 
the tag along.   Your name is on the top of the list.  Your poetry is just wonderful!  
Now, you must find a poet whose poetry you enjoy reading, and tag that poet with 
a poem.  Man, aren’t we having fun!  Chau!


Details | Acrostic | |

Louisiana Won't Be The Same

Let’s just face it.
Our Saint’s are marching in the Super Bowl
Underdogs for 43 years
It’s our time to cheer
Since jazz was born in our state a century ago
It’s going to be a celebration 
A year of new beginnings for a
New generation of Louisianans’ to share 
A Super Bowl win and celebrating jazz turning a century.

We just had a major disaster five years ago
Our faith in our state and team was
Never shaken you can’t fade us
The tables have turned over by wind stronger than Hurricanes

Betsy or Katrina, we are declaring an
Everlasting victory and a legacy of loyalty

That will be passed on to our future as the
History of the Who Dat Nation
Educating our youth of the boot that

Success is what you make of it, we won’t 
Always be down, keep on trying, and be
Motivated and just no matter what 
Expect the best and worst to occur to end up victorious for being laborious.


Details | Monorhyme | |

The Swinger

gotta get out of this place
to many now know my face
dressed from head to toe in my leather and lace
trying hard to run at a fast and steady pace
I just know I just gotta get out of this place

the booze the men all getting on my case
music's blare all such a disgrace
want the world to just go away at a faster pace
leave me here to die with such a sad looking grin on face
knowing I  have to just gotta get out of this place

money in the jar for just in case
daughter's picture surrounded by flower vase
I don't care if I been maced
another day I walk in disgrace
just knowing I just gotta get out of this place

around the bend she hit second base
a safe haven without a trace
of this gal and her leather and lace
dancing and hitting the clubs of distaste
for she finally made it out of this place







Tribute To Those
Getting Out Of The
Dancing In Clubs


Details | Free verse | |

There is still Poor

There is still Poor 
There is still Poor 
 
 
Some people do not cell phone some people still do not car some people do not 
live house near by and large but sleep them under train trestles and internet 
bridges no wait eye meant of course the interstate there is places where the poor 
can hide there is places where the faces seldom cry the mission beds and 
showers all are full where would you go a camping under stars if you were poor 
where would you hide the desert is a large and grainy thing the beaches are all 
taken by the rich the ditch is inhabited by rabbits and one witch the mountain 
goats have places the fox has his own den the skunk can find a hidey hole my 
friend but where am eye to rest to sleep perchance to dream of things eye am 
with the eye 


Details | Free verse | |

Magdalena

Hey pretty girl, it’s your choice
If you decided sitting there alone, he said
Taking a sip of his starwars--- a vodka, with coke
He let the smoothness of it fills his throat.
 
But, can’t get your eyes out of me, she said
Having a continuous puff of her cigarette 
In her candle like fingers;
Well, then you can join me, if you wish? 
 
Really?
He asked;
His face brightens,
With hope.

Why? 
Having a second thought of joining me,
If you want to meet me, have a seat
I’ll give you my address, she replied.

Yes, yes I like meeting you;
As he looked at her smiling
He said, I think I’m in love with you;
You’re so beautiful, young lady.

Oh please Mr., don’t corrupt my mind, she begged
I know you already belong to someone else;
I saw how you removed your wedding ring
And slide it secretly into your pocket.

Still want my address? She asked
See that convent, opposite this bar
That’s going to be my home; I belong to the Savior
And I’m going to meet him, today.


Details | Bio | |

When you wake up in the morning

When you wake up in the morning and start your daily tasks. What is the first 
thing you want to accomplish  for  today?  Are you thinking about yesterday and 
the things you didn’t do?  If your mind is on  yesterday for  what you haven’t 
finished  or the many troubles  and unfinished plans that went  along the way.  
You can  diminish that thought  and make your plans what did not get finished 
yesterday. And start anew. Do you have too many daily tasks to do?  Why not do 
them one at a time when you  make a plan on the most important things and 
don’t ask where can I begin. And how to do thinks right and to know I can win. 
Don’t find  yourself in a hurry and take it nice and slow.  Why not do things right 
and try not to worry and do not rush the time for today is here now  so make a 
plan for your day ahead  and do not dread the things you have to do. For 
yesterday is gone plan the hear and now. Listen what I am telling  you  take this 
day and make a vow and you will know what to do when you wake up in the 
morning.


Details | Verse | |

A Bright Shining Hope

A bright shining hope in a blind ricochet
In the gardens of stone where the sleepers lay
Where the bells chimed out on a brand new day,
A bright shining hope peeled resounding.

A bright shining hope firing heart and mind
Like a grand constellation in clusters aligned
With a mystic astrology built predefined,
A bright shining hope shone abounding.

A bright shining hope out of centuries blew
On the winds of change, ringing in with the new
And from Auld Lang Syne rose a future anew,
A bright shining hope stood agleam.

A bright shining hope of souls reuniting,
Amalgams of legends and heroes inciting
An unwritten future made ours for the writing
A bright shining hope to redeem,
Of a humanitarian dream.


Details | Haiku | |

Today Is Sunday

today is Sunday
a day to meet our Savior
see you at the park


Details | I do not know? | |

End Of Business

Let's all follow Wall Street,the power
held there verges on the talismanic;
A frenzied strength that,as crude prices
surge,has exchange roil with inspired panic.
Hear the calls of the traders,like the
crying damned,casting their baleful dismay;
It's a weekly Apocalypse,always by
the end of business,Friday.
In this place,Time is strangely defined,
the calenders fit odd fiscal years;
Ticker billboards keep confusions count,
as the final bell's sounding toll nears.
After,if we move quickly,we'll go and
sweep the floor,looking for loose dimes;
But,we really have to take care 'cause
most's already earmarked for off-shore crimes.


Details | I do not know? | |

Green card

We are lucky.  We sit and wait.
We were early.  Others are too late.
There is a smell, body odor,
Stale food, heat, smoke and piss.
I kiss my daughter into another hour.

We sit as if waiting at a cold bus stop,
Dependent, huddled together, waiting to
go...we know...
there's no spare room.
There are tired faces filling floor spaces,
A baby cries while his mother rocks him
To and fro...to and fro...

"No we can't go!" 
I say to my daughter.
She is two and restless,
I am restless too.
"Mommy has to stay a while."
I smile to cheer her.

We sit and wait.

We are still waiting.

Patiently she drinks her juice.
I feel vulnerability creeping up on me,
And hold her hand tight.
She has more right...
To be here.  


Details | Burlesque | |

LIVING LAVISHLY OR SPARINGLY

Rich people can afford to live lavishly,
squandenring money like it werent a commodity;
ordinary folks must make ends meet,
even worrying about the food they eat!

Wealth moguls like Trump or Gates
can purchase the Empire State Building,
and see their names in the Entrepreneur or Money magazine...
while we dispute those outrageous credit card rates!
 
Since Caesar imposed taxes on the Roman Empire,
freedom to spend,at will, has been reduced by desire;
now Uncle Sam is the new emperor demanding his tribute,
woe to us if we declared ourselves immune!  

Republicans and Democrats are divided on one issue:
the Iraq's war on terrorism and its credibility not so true;
while Bush's voice echoes throughout the White House' walls..
a President's courage shown in formidable ways!

The music and art world are giving in frivolity,
creating works that are insignificant and full of obscenity;
can the Human Race excel as it did yesterday...
who will step forward and stop all this insanity?

Living lavishly is only shared by the lucky ones 
who are defined by abundance and inheritance,
but living sparingly is based on sacrifice and endurance...  
learning those thrifty tactics and live within limits!
         


Details | Prose Poetry | |

20FabelSEVEN

20FabelSEVEN
Charlexes Fabels
Gardenor
A Mexican sweat is just a teepee with a fire made hotter and a rock placed where 
you can pour the water on the hot rock to make some steam come up and they 
add some pine to make a smell so sweet to tired alcoholic lidded eye eye did my 
time cold TURKEY and never needed one. One man who works in landscaping 
as the gardenor becomes too busy to notice the other man escaping on the 
sidewalk it is the thief the gardenor is using both his hands in his effort for 
release the other man in shadow land appearance coinciding with the worker 
there just thinking while he is walking hands in pocket just holding on to nothing 
as he sort of Saunders bye? Saunders
For over 60 years Saunders Manufacturing in Readfield, Maine has made top 
quality Form Holders and Clipboards for millions of customers worldwide. Now 
our new Portable Desktop line continues the tradition. Just a coincidence please 
Gentile reader ewe must understand the non commercial usage of this poem 
business. A Random act of kindness to your senses.
Charles (surname) 
Charles is a given name for males, and has its origins in Common Germanic 
where it originally was used to indicate a free man, but not one belonging to the 
nobility.
While eye was typing this the contact email on the link opened up into a brand 
new page and never made connected to the name? please people if you put the 
actual name of your email address then we the customers can copy and then 
past the thing and then you could have read my fable and had a much better day 
oh Mr. and the Mrs. Saunders. The Gardenor may read this missive iff eye bother 
to make the translation into Spanish for the bulk males of the working force is 
Mexicans.
GARDINER: From the Danish for "garden keeper." A noble profession and a vivid 
name. Relatives: Gardener, Gardenor, Gardner, Gardnard, Garden, Gar. 
Namesakes: Erle Stanley Gardner, John Gardner. Eye am just a Charles 
derivative a CHARLAX iff ewe will of some great import a relic not a derelict of 
duty a lover never a fighter a want to be husband to the ewe oh ewe please smile 
as ewe aer reading this one and be sure.
Jealousy is never meant to make us harm but only to make love come back so 
strong to make the other one in love return a little stronger than she was before 
the Jealousy.


Details | Senryu | |

Pub Hub



                                               sad shadows dizzy

                                          cigarette smoke drift lazy

                                           pub sounds, lights, hazy


Details | Terza Rima | |

Child Of Amsterdam

the droplets ran in blurring rivulets,
her form behind the glass a fluid shape,
a naked wraith in smoke from cigarettes;

about her shoulders ghostly tendrils drape 
when posing through the pane into the street
through plumes of steam adorning as a cape;

sat unclothed upon the window seat,
dulled by all the damage needles do,
reposed another teenage piece of meat;

sex for sale to feed the human zoo,
sightlessly she pouts into the damp,
at all the punters staring coldly through;

sat beneath the ruddy neon lamp,
her habit gnaws, serrated like a clam,
and chews upon her loins with grit and cramp;

pale and skinny like a slaughtered lamb,
remaining statue still with ersatz smile,
another sorry child of Amsterdam…


Details | Bio | |

When you wake up in the morning

When you wake up in the morning and start your daily tasks. What is the first 
thing you want to accomplish  for  today?  Are you thinking about yesterday and 
the things you didn’t do?  If your mind is on  yesterday for  what you haven’t 
finished  or the many troubles  and unfinished plans that went  along the way.  
You can  diminish that thought  and make your plans what did not get finished 
yesterday. And start anew. Do you have too many daily tasks to do?  Why not do 
them one at a time when you  make a plan on the most important things and 
don’t ask where can I begin. And how to do things right and to know I can win. 
Don’t find  yourself in a hurry and take it nice and slow.  Why not do the things 
right and try not to worry and do not rush the time for today is here now  so make 
a plan for your day ahead  and do not dread the things you have to do. For 
yesterday is gone plan the hear and now. Listen what I am telling  you  take this 
day and make a vow and you will know what to do when you wake up in the 
morning.


Details | Rhyme | |

Blood on Emeralds

The blood of Emeralds
In Northern Ireland's streets
Where sides detest
Victims they seek
 
Religious divide
Neighbours slain
For the life of me
What to gain
 
These troubled times
Historic sores
Deep rooted pasts
Now to the fore
 
IRA
UDA
Many guns came out to play
Both sides fell, as they murderously slay
During the week, even Sundays
 
The Belfast agreement of 1998
This Land of Emeralds, in peaceful state
Neighbours safe to talk again
Never allow the blood, on the Emeralds stain

" Dedicated to all Ireland - The Emerald Isle "


Details | Lyric | |

One Heart, Two Lives

O, Pearl of the Orient! The island
Of the islands in the Far East---
How nostalgic 
The humming wind and the sea, the sunset
And the mountains, the rice fields and the people 
The Boleros and the Jeepneys
Don’t you worry, Inay, your beauty 
Is still within me

O, Athena! The babysitter 
Of my lonely soul 
I tiptoed, like a fog, into your beloved fortress 
And sit on the ruins 
Of your pasts, daydreaming
I, the poet, crowned with rhyme and verse
And well-adorned, with pearled barong 
From the islands of the sea



Details | Narrative | |

THE TRAVELS OF THE DEPRIVED MEN

Some have never felt the need
to sail on...far beyond their boundaries;
they had comfort and a good life
and enjoyed delectable banquets,
but others had to struggle for a loaf of bread,
and survive in the mist of poverty!!!

Those were the travels of the deprived men,
leaving, with the deepest regret, their own country
to face hardships,unacceptance and bigotry;
and from the offspring of these misunderstood men,
were born individuals who would shake and change society!!!

They worked long hours in mines
trying to catch a breath beneath those dusty caverns,
and when they came out they only saw a thousands of stars;
many built skycrapers, tunnels and bridges:
getting burned by an inclement sun, and through persistance,
they  had the honor and joy to see them shine!!!

Some have taken for granted everything
they were provided for...
not striving to get ahead in life;
living comfortly in their cosy homes and mansions,
standing by and ignoring the pains of the laborers       
along with the evils of their world;
they did not speak on their behalf...
feeling they were more powerful!!! 

And will God, open His arms of eternity,
look down on them and have a bit of mercy...
when they are approaching His gate?
We all came from two perfect parents 
who were as sinsless as angels,
but did not obey and fell from grace...
are we making that same,incorrigible mistake?

The travels of the deprived men,
left their intact trails where they went;
if some deny this fact to themselves,
is because they refuse to knowledge
they walked tall or existed at all...
and brought  a greatness so unimaginable!!! 


 


Details | Haiku | |

The Excursionists


the excursionists
visiting the lake of green
did they find haiku?


Details | Acrostic | |

Complacent Desires

Courage and boldness we have forgotten in these days.
Our ancestors had only future expectations to live for.
Maybe, we have slaughtered the ideas; they had in a way.
People relaxed and comfortable, nothing new in store,
Laziness of no dreams or desires; we have it all today.
Anxious not for any changes, let us keep it the same.
Centuries of ruins would not exist, if they had no fire.
Expressing nothing that we have now, without a game,
Now think; where we would be, without their simple desire,
Trapped with no mechanics, science, or exploration aim,


Dreams are what made us, this so-called great nation.
Everyone wants to fight progress, save the past notion.
Salvation of our ancestor’s greatness is in information.
I want to preserve historic ideas, creations in contemplation.
Relics, continued treasure, do not forget about expansion.
Events from the past show we are full of personification.
Secure the now, and then stand firm for forward motion. 


Details | Ballad | |

REDEMPTION BY THE CROSS

He was with God before the world came to be,
and He created with Him our breath-taking Universe;
His name was Jesus,the Redeemer of the Human Race:
and to change and save us was His destiny...

He preached in the Temple, and all Jerusalem listened carefully,
but some didn't like to hear how He spoke against evil so openly;
and they weren't the Romans,the conquerors,
but those hypocrites in high places...

Jesus drew huge crowds by lakes and mountains,
by the country roads and in small towns;
they all came to hear the Gospel with gladness,
and Joseph was one of the priests who heeded those words...

On the lake of Genesaret, Jesus performed another miracle,
telling Peter to lower the net for a catch, but he was skeptical: 
until he saw the boat was about to sink with the heavy load,
and he came to realize the bounty of God... 

As Jesus became popular and all heard Him preach,
the priests and scribes became jealous of Him,
and planned to capture Him and found Him guilty of blasphemy:
by the very hands of Pontius Pilate who feared to condemn Him...  

But the crowd cried out, " Release Barabbas! ",
and those who called out the name, "Jesus,Jesus! "
were beaten and silenced by a mob who had no mercy;
Pontius Pilate had no choice but to deny His liberty...   

The Roman soldiers grabbed Jesus
and took Him to governor's place,
and they stripped and whipped Him 'till he bled;
and worst of all : a crown of thorns they put on His head... 

Along the Via Dolorosa Jesus carried the cross to His death 
as the women wept and men mocked Him with laughs,
never a commotion,so great, was felt in all Jerusalem;
a follower gave Him water, but he was restrained by swords...

The merciless soldiers placed the cross upon Jesus's shoulders,
and Simon from Cyrene finished bearing it behind Jesus;
he really felt the same pain and agony;
and from Jesus's smile, he knew He was relieved...

From the cross at Golgotha, Jesus asked His father
to forgive them as John stood by his mother;
to one of the evildoers He promised Paradise at no cost:
and to all who would believe and follow:  redemption by the cross....
 


Details | I do not know? | |

Road Rage

I board my little metal box early in the dawn,
Adjust my seat, fix my mirror, turn the stereo on,
I love the drive, I live for the day,
And I am generally  accepting,
Of all those little experiences,
 Life shares with me along the way.

Check my mirrors, watch my speed,
Keep that safe distance that all drivers need,
Tense up my neck, stare into the next car,
Give people intense looks from near, and from afar.
All of the sudden, something within me jumps out,
Did I just curse, did I actually shout?

I’m only going from here to there, just a simple commute,
But there is a collective static that I cannot dispute,
As I glance at the other drivers, with that protruding vein,
From all of the anger, stress, and strain.
They all look like the angry guy in my mirror,
That is staring them right back again.

Break checking, tail gating, horns blowing,
And all of those one fingered salutes,
That my fellow drivers are showing.
Have I lost my mind? Is the traffic beginning to slow?,
Did I just call that little old lady,
A bloated warthog for not staying with the flow?

I finally reached my destination and my patience is gone,
My nerves shot, my anger boiling over, as the day wears on.
Why Oh why do I love to drive,
When just getting there wrecks my day?
I cant point the finger and blame others for my anger,
When I reacted in exactly the same way.

There is a solution to this though, 
There is more than one way out,
There is a way to have a good day to this you may score,
Have others drive so you can talk,
Leave earlier and walk,
And of course, that is what a bus route is for.




Details | Couplet | |

Let's Start Today

Let's bring into this world peace
So all these wars and violence can cease
Let's stop all this hatred
And give the poor and homeless a piece of bread
Let's start by changing us all and right from inside
And letting God be your guide
There's so much we need to change
Even if it looks and sounds strange
We can all start sometime and somewhere
By showing in everything that we do, that we care

Let's be careful in the manner that we speak
Let's be strong and not weak
Let's show this world, that we still stand strong and tall
Let's unite together with courage and tear down every single wall
Let's bring into this world of ours much more love and peace
So a lot of this vicious circle of strife and pain can one day cease
Let's start today and let's do it right from the place in which we live
Let's always be respectful of our neighbors and our fellow man
Let's give the best of ourselves everyday and all the time that we can.
Let's stop this madness and get rid of all these illegal drugs today
They can destroy everything that you have and will kill you too
Make a vow to bring God into your life every single day
And make Him part of everything that you do.
Believe that your life will be more productive and blessed
When you put Him first in every thing
That you set your mind to do when you bring
Him closer and right inside your heart
And from you He shall never depart
So start by doing this and much more
Let's answer the call and open the door
Let's be watchful of everything that we do and say
And let's be thankful and pray to God everyday!



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2008


February,2,2008


Details | Free verse | |

You can not see

Behind closed doors,
within haunting walls.
Bewildered cries.
Disturbing calls.

Nosey neighbour,
reports of the scene;
anxiously waiting
to hear, "Not as it seems..."

No Florence Nightingale,
this Lady of the lamp;
inviting in strangers, -
house a massage parlour - vamped.


Details | Free verse | |

Port Piraeus


The very same shoes took a lonely seat on 
the wing of Port Piraeus, while the procrastinating 
noon wind, so calm, letting my tongue be clothed
with orange rinds down the sea of passion. 

The lovely stray feline struts on heels, 
so eager to be free, searching for hornpipe dancers—
hmm, those well-built tars now sailing home 
on her ship laden with poetic dreams. 

The very same shoes stood up 
and quietly followed her, 
perhaps, with a free-verse and Sapphic stanza
in his agitated steps.


Details | Free verse | |

K I S S I N G

K I S S I N G 

When I was a young boy oh so many years ago, 
the girls they really teased me so incessantly, 
Bing o  is the Name o was a better one to me. 
Then K I s s I n G. 
Kay eye ess ess eye inn gee. 
Charles and Parme~ sitting in the tree. 
First comes love; then comes marraige, 
then comes baby in a baby carraige. 
And then there was the one they sang, 
that really made my head ache ring. 
Red ROver Red ROver come on over, 
when i did they locked they little arms 
and tried to knock me to the ground 
my stomach still aches with all the little hate 
of the little women that hated  me and beat me down. 
DOwn to the ground i am made of. 
And now that ewe knoe all my past 
ICI this poem at last: 
Ewe are the woman, 
Eye am the mirror, 
My heart is the trigger, 
Eye am dead. 
Love is kind. 




Details | I do not know? | |

Moab

A war without boundaries
A nation under fear
Our government's intended motives
Aren't so crystal clear

The powers that be say we fight for freedom
But is that really the case?
The powers that be are money hungry
They are sickened with the taste

They will stop at nothing
To get their desires fulfilled
Even if innocents die
And another soldier is killed

Who can possibly stop them?
Their power seems too great
We were hoodwinked into a hidden agenda
Now retribution seems too late


Details | Narrative | |

WHAT WE LOST...

An attack of this magnitude
was completely unforeseeable;
and who thought that an unguarded city
had to feel that sense of solitude...
through an urealistic exodus so undiscernible,
and later reclaim its struck territory!

What we lost...is not the superb Twin Towers: 
the pride of the wealthiest nation on earth,
towers that can be rebuilt in years;
it's those lives that enmity cut short!
And they tried to disorientate us,
and disrupt our ingenuous and lively living
by spreading unrest and choas
with absurd and infernal thinking!

This infamy is so ineffaceable
from the mind of the unfoolish,
fair and reasoning man with greater intellect...
that it becomes so inexplicable;
a shameful act not condoned by civilization,
confirmed by unsympathetic sentiments!

What we lost ...is truly irreplaceable
by every imaginable remedy:
its the worth, the comfort  and the unbroken joy, 
which dazzled in the NewYorkers' eyes...
making their days so livable! 
What we lost...is eternally
carved out into those shining stones:
bearing glorious names to withstand time itself1

 


Details | ABC | |

SIGNATURES

Planet earth,
they have stopped moving with me like clouds,
like trees.
Sap frozen, inertia overtaking
tongues clipped
mouth after mouth black shut.
Toads are croaking.

Incence of hate wafting
from scrolling suicides.
The terrorist is on move
from valley to valley
shrine to shrine
river to river.
Bulls in veils bellowing in dark.

Self-seeking or sensing the history ?
Intentness of kill or empathy of pain ?
Who were the masters hiding behind hills ?
Let me choose my scratchings from unknown pen.
My paper should remain unwritten,
nobody will draw the line
nobody will put the signatures.


SATISH VERMA


Details | I do not know? | |

way of pain

sold my soul 
myself 2 hell.
lost from light  
look
2 heven.
thank god 2 trap
myself away
from the pain.
suffering lil babies dying
lying n caskets 
were's the love all 
of that so little N simple
compassiion?


Details | Rhyme | |

Hanging on a Hangover

He's after the morning after,
struggles to stand and stagger

     with the throng toward a train,
     with migraine addling his brain;

stares blankly, blank-faced city,
this hurrying horde of humanity,

     seems, though among so many,
     each one such a lonely company,

hanging on a hangover, gloomy,
he mumbles low: so very like me.


Details | Lanterne | |

STRIPPING THE WILLOW

And
making
a basket-
with a dos a
dos.


Ekphrasis-The Barn Dance by Egedius.


Details | Verse | |

Severance

Tolled the bell, lichen scarred and
green ingrained the brass
clanging out of key and jarred
when severance came to pass.
Rocked the pulse, neurosis slowed and
pounded sly and weak,
untruthful psalms died on the road
disinheriting the meek.
Fired the treason signal flare and
cobalt turned to grey,
to earth it fell without a care,
it burned out far away.
Picking up the pieces and 
a blue dismembered child,
the anger soured the thesis
of an innocence defiled.
Tolled the bell, cracked with doom and
discord shook the scene;
ethnic cleansing drove the broom
and swept the graveyard clean.


Details | Acrostic | |

The Gospel of Peace

Greet all men
Of different cultures
Of different races of 
Different places as your

Next door Neighbors;
Especially, when they are
Wounded, ambushed and
Stripped bare.

Pour in the oil and the wine.
Restore to health 
Every breach creating
Amicable relations.
Clothe and feed your
Enemies and let not
Disdain come from

The author of lies and
Of confussion, but let the

Author of Peace give you
Love and compassion for all
Lands of color and culture.


Details | Rhyme | |

Maynilad (Mixed Rhyme)

So true, the drivers are more careful
Than the commuters who are not fool
Jeepneys and buses are always full
Than taxis, in some ways, dared to rule
Heart of Maynilad, the beautiful

City of dreamers living in her gay dream
Where aroma street-vendors have to scream
In enticing you to light another dream
While you craving for a coco ice-cream

For I really missed Maynilad
Of her sensual beauty
That I’m longing to see
Which I saw when I was a lad

Now I live in the shadows of the Gentiles
At first, I never wanted to be here
Olive trees’ leaves rustled me with godly styles
That I learned to like famous Mythos beer

But, I preferred the sweet echo 
Of San Miguel, a grand macho
Suave, even if sun not down
Blended with all kinds of fun rhyme
From peers who neither have a dime
Yet, they will not let you down

Thou I, the dreamer, admire the foreign god
Still, I will save the last breath for Maynilad
Why? It’s simply because she is in my blood

Yes, that’s what I am, by birth
Just simple man, here on earth

Coming from her maiden skirt
I promised to share my shirt

If, one day I bid you bye
O, Athena, do not cry
 
You are deeply etched in my mind

Heart and soul, thou, for Maynilad


 

 



Details | ABC | |

KILL

Some truth disempowers you. You wanted
to be yourself as if not to become extinct.
A negative stress
starts churning your entrails.

Zero inertia. Your body begins
rummaging the soul for a prayer
which can arouse your thoughts.

All drunk now. Flashback events.
Hallucinations.
The virtue of tongue lets go the integrity.
Bewildered, spirited flesh ultimately cracks.

The violence tumbles out. My heart
squeezes melancholy.
Soon there will be a crowd
to seek a philosophical kill.


SATISH VERMA


Details | ABC | |

TRANSITIONAL EDGE

Pathways have no boundaries,
thinker was without a thought.
Hostile mind refuses to believe
truth was missing from life.
From depth to depth measurement had failed.
God does not know his creation now.

Foolish flesh now burns in thudding bangs
of dry butter. I want you to touch the 
opaque eyes of eternity. In captivity of
sighs and groans. You ought to understand
who was original. There had been free
invitation to become unfaithful.
There were masks, gene shifts and longevity.

This evening a drama will be enacted in sky
by unburnt bras and a black hole. There will 
be thrill. It was easy to bury the skulls among
floating names. The wreath will be placed
on the transitional edge of sweetness.
Which never was.


SATISH VERMA


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Cellblock 19 Bunk 3

Up again at three,
Before the bellowing guards and shuffling feet, 
The fluorescent dawn still hours away…

Hands too soft for hard labor
Dig crusty scales of brief escape
From the corners of watery eyes.
Hope dims as focus returns.
From my perch I survey
A sea of black iron bunks.
Shallow snores, dry coughs, wet farts.
Their dreams like their tattoos:
Crude and incomplete, childlike and menacing,
As threadbare and tattered as our bedsheets,
As pale and shadowy as the naked bulbs
Ever-burning at each end of our
Pink visqueen sky.

Now I recognize this place.
There is no justice here,
No reform, no rehabilitation, no reward,
Not even retribution.
Just the labored slumber
Of dry hopes and dreams of punctured flesh.

I close my eyes again, awaiting escape.


Details | Free verse | |

Rolling Thunder (Redondilla)

The rumbling sound flashes pass
Heads held high like soldiers in mass
Handles straight as a new lamp pole
These bikers are now on the roll

Soft wind caressing their faces
Holding on, ladies with laces
Gliding with a natural flow
As they go with a rumbling glow

Corners and curbs their hogs traverse
Rolling thunder with such a burst
Riding the shores this afternoon
Coming to your town one day soon



Comments:   The Redondilla is a Spanish form of poetry.  It has four lines with 
eight syllables in each line.  The rhyme scheme varies from aabb, abab, to abba. 
This poem is about the rumbling bikers passing through town.  It’s such a great 
sight to see as they maneuver their bikes in their special way. It's dedicated to 
the rumbling hogs of thunder with non-grumbling, mumbling riders!


Details | Rhyme | |

Orange

Sunspots stain the smoking lenses,
sedation shades the restless sea,
gradients of tangerine 
kiss surface burned tranquility.
Beyond the dreams of hungry eyes,
skyline licked by orange tongues,
street lights blinking into graves,
microcosmic dying suns.
Bleeding hearts on promenades
patrol the run down pallisades,
a universe breeds parallels
of purple prose and love parades.
Beyond the humpback of the bridge,
through latticed bones of iron rust,
sinks the orange basketball,
liquid gold to dirt and dust.
Dreamless sleepers congregate
as fading strands crawl on the skies,
and loneliness concealed within
then laughs until it crys.


Details | Free verse | |

Helper of the Leper

From dawn to dusk and often beyond midnight,
she cleans incurable wounds, assures the frightened,
and emboldens the lost, the desperate;

She gives soothing company to the delirious and the dying,
and whispers a prayer for anyone who eventually,
inevitably, dies and is buried here;

She's got no time to suffer from her own wounds
or to tremble at her own nightmares, or to crumble under
the weight of her own frustrations;

Her life has been a wall windowed wide to a view
upon the dire needs of the outcast, slowly wasting away,
the leprous dregs of hygienic society;

"Transcending the selfish self as a person for others"
- - of themselves, these words may just be pious, hollow
cliche, elating yet essentially empty;

But with her generosity, the words acquire a meaning
more profound than their syntax, truer than their intent:
Sister Fidela, helping her fellow lepers.


Details | Lanterne | |

BACK TO BACK

Two
rooms up,
two below-
bathing in the
sink
'cross
cobbles
to visit
netty in the 
yard


Details | Ballade | |

SAIL

Glorious wind,
pushes me far
Bleached  canvas sail
Navigate by star

This mysterious force
keeps me on course
Wind blow
Pushes me so

Wind on water
Ripple on sea
for all to see
Wind come to me

Sail

Wind push me far
Do not fail
Taut rigging
Set spar

Sail

Wind come to me
Gentle breeze
Gentle sea

Sail

Where I want to go
Follow  your star
You know it so


Follow star
Sail,
take me far

Sail

Compass heading
Wind
Come to me
This holy grail

Sail

Navigate by star
Wind come to me
Blow me far
Follow this trail

Sail

Deck of teak
Sail of white
New islands I seek
Sea bright
Sands of white







Details | Free verse | |

Empty Streets

Craving a poboy,
a women in Michigan
hangs her head and cries,
longing for a home
that no longer exists.

Dreaming of seafood,
Mardi Gras, snowballs
and jazz bands-
A man in Oklahoma
awakes in tears.

As one lonely jazz horn
floats a requiem
over empty streets,
and a pot of gumbo simmers
in a government issued trailer.


Details | Verse | |

God's Waiting Room

Herein the empty vessels
cavort, frenzied motion capture,
compass cracked, fly blown
dervishes robbed of direction.

Mumbling lips aflutter
with poetry deranged;
dry dock for the ancients,
amnesiac retrograde.

Inconsolable and incurable,
imaginary tasks, furniture removal,
trailing human waste
they are the cause of.

Beneath a frozen clock face,
metal frames and walking sticks
lean in derelict repose,
surreal, Daliesque in structure.

The intimate stink of
bowel and bladder hangs
a cloud of doomsday,
peeling humanity’s very integrity.

All the while waiting,
injury and bonus time
arthritic in progress, waiting
to be touched by the hand of God.


Details | Narrative | |

British Punjabi (2005)

Though I was born in the UK and I knew no more
In my dreams I heard my grandparents calling me to their door
I visited Punjabi and it lit my heart
This was me, a place in me where I found my part
Know I can see me as a whole
British Punjabi, my identity is in control
I met family I never knew before and they are a reflection of me
Funny, we live so far yet have parallel lives just to continue our ancestry. 
Unity just by sitting on the floor to eat
I am humbled to walk bare foot on the street
My village that struggles in a war and it is home today
I don’t feel torn; I know where I fee at peace and where I should stay 
I feel comfortable being inside of me
I am a British Punjabi 


Details | I do not know? | |

Social Anxiety

I don’t know who they are.

I don’t know anyone’s name.

Not a friendly face around.

Not a single face I know.

This nervous beating in my chest.

How will I fit in with the rest?

People are all around,

which is why I feel so alone.

I wanna leave.

I need to go home.

Please don’t make me talk.

Please don’t make me stay.

Please just let me walk,

before I run away.

I’m searching for an exit.

Any escape will do.

Why was I left here by myself,

 when I came with you?

You know I can’t handle this.

Me and people don’t mix.

The nervousness is winning,

the walls are closing in.

I don’t know this group,

I only need a friend.

You said you’d be a minute,

my watch says it’s been ten.

I’m worried now as more people show up,

and still no sign of you.

Freaking out, just short of hysteria, 

is the best that I can do.

I can’t take it anymore.

I’m sorry I need to leave.

Being in this situation seems the worst thing for me.


Details | Free verse | |

The Corners Of My Heart

The Corners Of My Heart 

I had to make a picture for my love. 
Not for a locket or a fixture , 
but for Her memory of me , so we could remember we. 
The thing was not contrived or planned 
 A man 
he grabbed His laptop and His camera. 
I did NOT remove my hat. It was the thing most proud of. 
The first thing that my babay did , 
was tell me I should have flipped my lid. 
Next time take off the hat , the hair 
is mostly where I need to see. 
Go figure that.  It must be a woman thing, 
my friend pointed out to me , 
My hat , said I , was what I wanted HER to see , 
a man thing , I slyly added. 
Next picture will be me , of course, 
without the thing. But listen , here 
is where the love comes in to this poem. 
I begin to smile.  I tried to smile at the camera. 
But the muscles in my Jaw , just would NOT let that happen. 
Not at all. I felt the smile begin 
it was in the corners of my heart. 
and somehow not even planned , it made it to my eyes, 
and then , my babay shined. 
It had started in my heart and then 
came out up to my face, 
and then the smile was in my eyes. 
  


Details | Free verse | |

samurishogun

samurishogun 
Samurishogun 
Everyone likes java and Javanese movies 
Six feet tall even no inches not one the 
Sword was not deflected until the flat was on my shoulder and the flat of the 
blade was laying heavy on the muscle underneath  my obi wan Kenobi shirt 
when the shogun taught me not to sneeze on his command do not sneeze he 
told me or the head will grin the head will soon leave the body if you sneeze so 
please just do not sneeze or eye will have to take the sword in my left hand and 
then the head will grin 
The head will grin when the sword has won. 


Details | Free verse | |

Negativity's Spool

This spool of negativity
unraveled, sparked and metal lime
pierces eardrums in their skin
and wraps conundrums 'round the brain
It usurps all the confidence
which should be stored in violet bowls
to sip when low ignition strikes
and twines the weary, dragging souls
It threads the skin of counterparts
to skin cells loving anger
and twists it's turns through open mouths
to happiness endanger
This spool of negativity
spat and rolled by rotten tongues
will stretch and tear at the slightest tug
like paper silk gone soaked in rum
It dusts disintegration
and sleeps in rusty coils
and snakes through poison mushrooms
in the darkest forest soils
It winds a whisper metal lick
into the hearts of mighty men
constricting blood of pumping life
until they reach to sorrow's end
with thoughts too steep and oiled black
to negatively condescend...


Details | Verse | |

Goth

In the bleeding shadows threading queer and deft
Along and above corridors painted white and green,
Fluorescents flickered in their moth-brushed bowls,
And the madness and sweet anguish seethed unseen.
It was felt in the bones of the new and the old,
The creeping electric bristle of marrow and moss,
Sucking like leeches on the calcium and the blood,
Until the ligaments and plasma were nocturnal candyfloss.
Stole by the winds, the whisperings of the grave,
Uttered earthen verses, muttered fever of neurosis,
And the crowbars in the eyeballs of those who slept unsound
Soon let them dream again in a crystal meth psychosis.
Asylum gargoyles spewed their eternal gushing rain
From out of mouths wide open and torrentially agape,
Until the drains were flooding with the sewage of despair
And the land beyond the walls held only death as an escape.
In the clinic by the lamp a needle glinted in the light,
Hypodermic glowing amber, loaded with paraldehyde,
And the king of all insanity, now driven mad by ghosts,
Shot it up until the death, until by his own hand he died.


Details | Rhyme | |

News


People believe in doing evil things 
As long as they don't get caught 
What a piece of mentality just to think 
They can get away with more than they can chew 

Everyday and everywhere people do crimes 
They don't care to do later time 
Killing, raping,stealing,and who knows what more 
They do it all with evil intent, and cause so much pain 

Some of us are just so tired 
Of observing and hearing only bad news 
Wars,poverty and the homeless,people hurting one another 
Good news would be nice for a change, they're long overdue! 



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2004-2008


December,10,2008


Details | Verse | |

Oblivion Street

Hang a left into Desolation Alley
where the meat-rack girls spin dead on their feet;
take a right onto Cruelty Crescent,
walk a crooked mile on Oblivion Street.
Feast those eyes and gloat your soul
on the life and death tapestry laid in despair;
drink of the torture and fear apparent
on the faces of those who are resident there.
Junk-heads, dope-fiends in cardboard box condos,
skeleton people with wild crimson eyes;
whores and their pimps froze in gangster-like postures
haunting neon lit streets under bruised purple skies.
Keening screams of the housewives whose monkey-brained husbands
leech pleasure from violence and drunken assault;
shout the odds, lay the blame, give the cow what she asked for,
distant sirens kick in like trapped ghosts in a vault.
Bloody kids wiring Volvos then driving like crazy,
glue-filled Golden Wonder bags stuck to their faces;
flip the jack on two wheels then ram-raid a shop front,
it’s Death Race 2000, a day at the races.
Graffiti-sprayed brick where the spelling is suspect,
the one slash of light in a black and grey view;
shouldn’t cut so much school, or at least go to English,
dyslexia strikes paint spray terrorists too.
Nothing adds up or makes sense in this maelstrom,
the crushed bones of youth in the flesh of dead meat;
no serum of reason can cure the awful
relentless great plague on Oblivion Street.


Details | Lyric | |

Starbucks Sucks

What’s so grand?
It’s just another trend
And unlike every other friend,
I refuse to give in
Oh, okay, so it’s gourmet
I don’t care what you call it
I refuse to allow them
to sit here and rape my wallet
Why does a tall look so small?
There’s nothing grand about it at all
Starbucks simply sucks


Details | ABC | |

LUNAR TOUCH

The space covers me now. 
Words stayed too long
beyond the thoughts of I 
and my landscape.
A burst of silence soaks me. 
What was history,
a voyage to rough awakening? 
Absence of a voice makes me suffer again.

My religion burns. 
Life is a dark smoke
I will write a message on your palm. 
Give me a breather, 
the distances make me sad. 
Black dust drifts through 
the slits of our predictions. 
At least I know what I am.

On a sunny day 
I break a mirror.
My fingers slide like scissors, 
open the envelope. 
I know it has a sermon, 
I don’t want to read. 
The depression has a lunar touch. 
I break a flower into hundred petals.


SATISH VERMA


Details | I do not know?, I do not know? | |

Liverpool

The first smell of rain hitting city walls
Before slipping down into guttery streams
Heavy drops splattering layers of ashes and dirt
Causing clouds to clot in noses of newly wet children
Wet soot snots that run so black  memories keep coming back
Like scabs on bare and dirty knees
Or fog enveloping  invading nostrils
Condensing eyelids blinding sight
Muffling sound and squeezing light
Hiding the world in the wetness 
Of a cloud too heavy to fly
Carrying smells of sea salt and tar
Smoke of smouldering coal fires
Rolls off  wet tile rooftops to mingle
With the soapy smell of Monday 


Details | Couplet | |

Whom I Did Not Love?

Greetings to you, O, lovely sky
Show me my precious butterfly

Here I am before your majesty
Let us live tomorrow in purity

Like we were together yesterday
Watching the sun faded into gray

Time quickly passes
Age, suddenly, increases

Yet still, I am all alone
Sitting on your marble throne

Can’t you see me from above?
As I pronounce to you my love

In my own song of soft falsetto  
Oh, remain to me, not in incognito

So, tell me Athena, my love
Whom I did not love?


Details | Free verse | |

Poem For People

Poem for people
Who hurry for the bus
Hurry up hurry up hurry up
The bus is leaving that bus stop without ME 
When will the next one arrive
Eye am late for my job and the doctor will thrive if eye miss my appointment the 
clouds will go hide and the bus just cant be late not tTthis mourning so true the 
thing has to carry me why is she stopping so soon oh look oh look oh look 
someone else is now riding my bus eye can not handle the slowness oh please 
hurry up
The madness has gripped me again
The bus is so slow eye can get out and walk the money can not matter but time 
is at stake and the people are all in my way oh hurry hurry hurry step write up and 
board the bus but please do not ever get in that much of a hurry because bus is 
on schedule
And keeps its own time in the city of Tucson sun tran is not blind to the HURRY 
hurry hurry scurry scurry scurry of the mind.


Details | Narrative | |

39 Lomonossov St., Kiev 252101, Ukraine

A horde of weary eyes
at the false fountain of youth
in demo against
the fading of the majestic night;
their hushed voice vibrates against 
my seat, as I enjoy the skyline
while the silver moon, secretly
sips my ice-cold compote.

That strange looks 
somehow touch
my own sadness, humming 
with the cold breeze of gentle wind 
and the yelling of sweet Babushka;
I know…and they know, she is right;
it’s time for all, to come to term
with her final whistle. 

She’s the night watcher. Her gate 
of ephemeral solitude, 
is soon to be locked; no other entrance, 
unless one takes the risk, creeping 
like vine to reach the terrace;
but it isn’t easy, ‘cos yesterday morn 
crushed eyes blocked the doorway
that made Babushka scream, for help.

Thou, I never gave her headaches;
she’s really worried seeing me  
on the edge 
of the rooftop, while 
reading Pushkin, as the squadron 
of night worshippers, whining
at the false fountain of youth, 
‘cos of unfinished home-works.




Details | I do not know? | |

Change On A Plain

This small town
With all your idiosyncrasies
Change is already here
What's a small town to do?

Urban sprawl is gonna get ya
What are you going to do
When all the small town charm
Has been sold out of you?

No more vast corn strips
Instead it's, "Welcome to Wal-Mart!"
No more open airstrips
The next problem, "Where to put another Starbucks?"


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

7 Years, Without God

I spent my youth where I never dreamt of
Where the holy angels stopped existing
‘Cos the ruling men forbade them to sing
From their century-old kirk, they were scared off
 
I was a Christian, when I was with my Christian friend 
I was a Muslim, when I was with my Muslim neighbor 
I was a Jew, when I was with my Jewish professor 
But, I was a nobody, when alone, every week-end

We came one by one, to this land, not to shop 
Nor to compete with each other, to know who’s the best
Together we gathered, with only one aim, to quest
The hidden treasure, of the world map

In that great land, I learnt histories of walls
Spoken the native tongues, of the East and the West
Mastered the law of men, after seven years without rest
But the soul was lonely, for I had forsaken the Sunday calls


Details | I do not know? | |

Hole (2000)

An absence leaves a hole 
Imagine trying to run before you stroll
You’re left with a learning gap
If you can’ survive your in a deadly trap
Life is a social process that we have to take
Some are unfortunate they have to forsake
The absence left is hard to fill
It’s rolling down before you climb the hill
Imagine not having a father or mother
Image not having a sister or brother
Imagine one of them doing half their role
You will be left with a huge hole


Details | Free verse | |

divided we stand

divided we stand
a crippled fruit salad
claiming to be diverse,
to be tolerant.
posing as peace keepers,
referees on the worlds soccer field.
but each statement is another nail in a nations coffin

beat, starve, sexually abuse into submission
purify with gasoline
shave the scalps beauty down.
assimilation.
failure.

plucking the pathetic from desperation.
friends helping friends?
did america do any different?
plunging entire races into nightmares,
smeared with death and dynamite.

tolerant?
peace keepers?
its difficult to be patriotic,
after learning a country's history.
staring at a linoleum floor,
listening to a world unravel.


Details | Senryu | |

Shrew



                                            pettifogging shrew

                                     mad landlady glares at you

                                              your rent overdue


Details | Acrostic | |

THE LAST DAY

The last day.........
To fulfill
No tears to spill
Be it as it may

When you give all.........
All that you can
But it begins to fall..........
The failure of a good man

To see it through.........
The heart begins to bleed
No end in sight too..........
Can I find..........
The things you need...........
The things you pay no mind

The last day..........
So many things fail
but only fail
blaming others
The final nail..........
The final day

The last day...........
All I have to give..........
To give all I can
The failings of a good man
The words he wanted to say

Small kind things............
crushed underfoot
The hurt it brings
The heart to bleed..............
The small kind things you need

To see it through.........
To the last day...........
They do not see the way
They cannot see........
What is true

The last day.............
Fulfilled.........
The head held high
I did try
Tried to find another way
On the final day




Details | Blank verse | |

What's Going On...?

The severing veins in your aqueous pools,
Where the vessels bleed like cotton candy,
I watch and wait, I watch and wait,
For signs of remorseful movements.
A frozen concerto of razor thin ice notes,
Hang coldly silent above your vapid mouth,
I listen to learn, listen to learn
Music lessons of some repentance.
In the back-bitten bile of your leaking spleen
Venting black boiling blood like molten tar,
You hide and seek, hide and seek
With your eel-like elusive soul.
In the arch-shaped instants of passing,
When clouds scud scant fear in your eyes,
I look to see, I look to see
What’s going on in there…Mr Blair?


Details | Acrostic | |

Fil-Am

Flag of two, side by side, of red, white and blue
In thirsting heart of thine, let God’s words shine
Let not this symbol of two, suddenly, be in blue
In the land of apples, dwell peace-loving people
Pearl of the Orient, with a pure and natural scent
It’s blended, in your blood, be happy and be glad
No one can take; keep it safe, for your own sake
Of all good things you gained, use it, not in vain

Arm with courage and wisdom, from native Juan
Molded and taken care, by hospitable Uncle Sam
Ever be grateful of life, and defend it against strife
Run not from trouble, but, mend it by being noble
In the eyes of all, we can stand tall, being humble
Color of skin, white or brown, never forget our kin
Ah! My brother and sister, live in the spirit of two
No Fil-Am, without the grace of our Sam and Juan 



For poet J.B, my Fil-Am brother 


Details | Narrative | |

SATURDAY NIGHT -NINETEEN-FIFTIES STYLE

Tea with Gran,her muffins supreme,Bath and change and hair brylcreamed.Stroll 
into town to the pub in the square, our gang always met there.Checking the football in the 
Oxford 'green un'.Trad jazz with Donegan,Bilk or Collier or maybe the ballroom 
bacchanalia.Skip,hip-hop or jive or more sedately to the Friday Five.A swift half of cider in 
the Bodega bar,happily none of us could afford a car.Dropping a shilling in  the snug juke 
box,choosing Haley and Elvis,then unorthodox.Bought tickets for the coming live shows,Eddie 
Cochrane,Cliff and Shadows.Later, the last waltz ,about to begin,if you were fancied ,it 
showed in her coy grin.Requesting a date took a little courage,so glad my choice that day,led 
to marriage.


Details | Narrative | |

THEY DESTROYING YOUR CREATIONS

They are destroying your creations,
the geen fields are burning
and blazes rise high;
the blackened town
has turned into ashes...
a devastated gost town
where once life
thrived with foot-steps 
and engines running!

They are destroying your creations,
barren vallies, mountains and lands 
where birds found their home so thrilling,
but forced to flee within minutes;
the scary arsonists also fled,
not to get cought or get burned
while scurring and panting! 
Weeping hearts and saddened faces
are overwhelmed by devastation...
who can understand their frustration?

They are destroying your creations
with torches and evil minds;
beauty is something they detest,
the smell of burnt makes them powerful;
how can they destroy the wilderness
that gives them life without chargiing a dime?
How can they stand back 
and watch this happening
while others are suffering?
If they are the devils' accomplices 
in this horrendous spectacle,
they will surely pay fully for their harm!


Details | Free verse | |

Is More Better

Some are losing their place called home,
the economy is slumping, 
now what is wrong.
Look at the picture from outside the frame,
prices are climbing,
but wages stay the same.
For Sale signs posted along the street,
nothing is for sure,
except people have to eat.
A mess we have that is for sure,
reboot this problem,
find the cure.
I wish I could go way back when,
we plowed our fields,
and lived with kin.
Working together all chipped in,
making it work,
way back then.
Chores were done,
meals were shared,
people cared.
A new house coming up,
the neighbors pitched in,
no mortgages way back then.
People helping people,
living off the land,
then someone smart,
had a better plan.


Details | Free verse | |

The Shadow

In a night of wonders of many nights
A stream of tribes pours onto bowls
With a pierce of gleaming light
Strikes the shadow of a knitted glove
Where many climb onto its surface
Reaching for the distance in the further land
It has a bench or two
That accelerates with a push of a hand
It travels from space to falls
Riding coasters among all
But, with a sniff of breeze
It may flow and go away
Therefore with might and care
It shares the wondrous time of all
As it approaches the shadow's cliff
Its secret lies stiff
For many discovered its body 
That swam in the pond of glory 
Was a boat that floats peacefully
In a night of dancing moonlight


Details | Rhyme | |

ATTENDING CONVENTIONS

Deranged conventions apathy's consent,
the meeting place, contingent on the rent,
my searching's format needs no such invent
what crucial judgment surfaces intent?

This screening of concern, ne'er by relent,
my trials winding grossly follow meant.
Attending as a witness, I am bent
and yet the justice ~ solar detriment!

I can't but focus on this implement
without attendance, and yet not extent,
the numbers pushing blind my own intent,
a voice is muffled, I am lastly spent!

But give me reason to extol advent,
I must be heard to forward sentiment.
A writer joins the soul to compliment
some virtue of each issue ~
      
           . . . . . . printed, sent!


Details | Narrative | |

Chernobyl

Over a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka
And slices of kalbasa…. and cold breeze 
Of first September, you proudly spoke to me 
Of Lenin; we sat beneath the apple tree.

I disagreed not, with your thoughts
Neither, I agreed. It’s just I had no time 
To argue, nor speak about him right now, 
For my mind was fixated. A green apple

Teasingly, hanging above our heads; 
Come on, discussions…later, I childishly beg
As I kept lusting for the sweet juice of temptation; 
Tempted I was, it took me only one jump, for 

The fruit of my fleeting desire; 
Still, you refused to stop, talking 
About the great proletariat, who cares? 
Me? Hmm, nope, this green apple’s juicier 

Than what you’re telling; I wiped the thin dust off 
With my long-back shirt. Then, I opened my mouth 
To bite it; But, a passing, scraggy Babushka yelled:
“If you eat that apple, my son, you will die!”

Without asking her why? I threw it. 
Then, my friend Ruslanchik said: 
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,
We’re only 100 km away from our black history!”



Details | I do not know? | |

Familiar Frustration

When with some exigence,circumstance calls,
minds turn to distractions,means avoidance;
assumed places in this post-modern dance,
drift like warm wraiths through many local malls.

Pass and peruse various assortments;
glorious,unlimited selection,
marketing every desire's prediction;
lay-away plans, excellent investments.

Products,and hope,brought home,opened with glee,
usual conclusion,failed safe guarantee;
joy's promise discouraged,now dashed by doubt.

Once more,to shop ballet-like duration,
and return the familiar frustration;
vacant faces,again to drift about.


Details | Free verse | |

REFLECTIONS OF A RIGHTEOUS PERSON

Why am I so deligent and assertive,
and was I born for a devine purpose...
making me different and comprehensive,
forgiving when I'm punctured by a thorn of a rose?

Something miraculous and lucent emerges...
when I'm challenged by harsh adversities
that are unable to outgrow my inner strenght;
and dissaminating the seeds of wisdom fearlessly: 
will not make me lose this liberty,
but gain more confidence in myself!

I pity them when they walk restrained by shackles,
when they were free, they had no regard
for the safety of others or valued anyone's life
by shedding innocent and precious blood; 
for them there's no escape or hope eternal!
Their weary hands clasp the cells' bars...
imagining of melting them with a fiery mind;
without knowing that their fate is infernal!

Why does an unjust man envy
a righteous one who lives by the Laws
and is guided by humility?
Why does contempt and rage make some
violent, irrational and vicious...
towards a humble person who's sagacious? 

There are two easy questions
that yield the simplest answers:
life has little worth, because they have never appreciated it;  
and love is replaced by hate,because they have glorified it!   


Details | Free verse | |

One Hand

Walk with me
Take my hand and 
Walk with me

In the rain
Under a rainbow
Through the snow

During a sunrise
Towards a sunset
Even down the stairs

On a sidewalk
Through a store
On the park grass

Hand in hand
We are one
Twice as strong

Just walk with me


Details | Free verse | |

HESITATIONS

Unspoken words
can keep a face from smiling,
and a pretty star from shining
into a dark summer's night;
unexpressed thoughts, concealed inside,
even with meaningful glances,
must be said with tenderness...

I am one of them,
perhaps a hesitating dreamer afraid of emotions,
of letting them out;
but if they are locked away...deep inside,
who can ever discover them?
Nothing is short of wonder,
so make your confessions without fear...
to someone who's willing to listen,
to hear the sincerity of your words,
and the sweetness of your long-kept secrets!

Untraveled roads won't lead us
to discover  peoples and places,
to embrace them as our own this Human Race;
I've stood here dreamin away...
imagining those far-away lands where folks
do the best of what they have,
but heir dreams are never taken away;
we have too much to be grateful for in a Nation
where plenty is not a rarity...
and  unappreciated by many!

Unsettled matters leave plenty of grief,
isn't forgiveness the quickest relief?
Resentful hearts bear the eternal grudge...
till there's little control in their rage!
Peace was meant to heal the heart of cruel intent,
it is that gentle dove hovering over us,
hesitating to land into our unclean hands;
look...I've forgiven them and I don't ever regret it!