PENNED ON AUGUST 14, 2014!
leaves in the trees
an old man sitting
on a bench
and thinks of his youth
sitting on a bench
looking into his iPhone
simulates the falling
red yellowing leaves
Shawn and Shauna fell deeply in love
And were on their way to be wed
When a car, on that day, took their lives straight away
As both of their bodies, lie dead
But their spirits were both drawn to heaven
As they stood, in front of the gates
Saint Peter was there, at the top of the stairs
When Shawn hollered loudly “Just Wait"
Now Peter looked puzzled, at Shawn
And said "This is no time to tarry "
Shawn spoke again, and refused to go in
Without being properly married
Saint Peter replied very softly
"We don't do that kind of thing here
But if you're willing to wait,
“I’ll see if I can, get it cleared”
Three months went by, while they waited
Saint Peter, show up with a Priest
"I know it was slow, But I want you to know
You’ll be married Forever at least"
As the wedding was getting started
Shawn asked a question, with doubt
What happens here in heaven
“If this marriage just doesn’t work out”
A silent filled up the heavens
Saint Peter, was shaking his head
And once he regained his composure
This is what Saint Peter said
“It took Three Months to find a Priest
In this Heavenly Foyer
How long do you think, I’ll take for me
Up here, to find you a Lawyer ?”
THEY WOULD NOT BE FUSSY
AND TALK BACK YOU SEE.
SIT BRAVE AND LOYAL NOT
TRY TO RUN AND HIDE. AND
MY SIDE. BUT
MAYBE HIDE YOUR CLOGS
AND IF CHILDREN WERE PUPPIES, THEN WE’D ALL BE DOGS!
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
My cousin shared her wishes and dreams,
On our star gazing night, she whispered them so sweet
As a shooting star glided down from the sky,
She said, I wish ….. I wish…. all I wish are these tonight
Someday, I will marry a smart, rich and handsome guy
And have a grandiose banquet on my nuptial rite
We’ll be dancing like a lovely prince and princess ,
With all my wedding sponsors on their best suits and dresses
All in pink ,that’s the motif I will surely request.
She kept into her dreams as several years passed by,
Still searching for her prince charming who’s hard to find
Unconsciously going beyond the age to give birth to a child,
In a hurry at age of seventy, she took a rich ninety years old guy.
The wedding was held after a day or two,
The guy seated on his wheelchair with rheumatism on his toe
She headed slowly at the alter to accept his shaking hands,
Two nurses followed, so with sponsors dressed up in printed brown.
The highlight of the wedding rite started at once,
They held tightly with a nebulizers on the other hands,
But the words of oath, they took time to pronounce
False teeth were both misplaced and nowhere to be found.
Reception followed grandiosely in the guy’s mansion,
I saw many old men and women still eager to dance on the floor,
With hunched back, shaking knees, they twisted rock and roll
Then, sweet music played and my cousin danced with her groom.
But, we all wondered how did he stand alone?
He’s so heavy , I knew my cousin couldn’t help him at all,
With our great surprise, his nurse was at his side like his crutch
Everyone thought , he’s really a smart guy! Was he not?
Then, everyone followed them so happily on the spacious hall,
And in trio, they held each other so tight and moved like a fool.
Written: Sept. 15, 2012
Contest: My Cousin's Wedding (funny poem)
Contest Judged: 9/30/2012
Poet Sponsor: Joann Grisetti
Enchanting is the beauty of her pic
he reckons if they tried the night to guile,
she would become a pique nique exotique
anthology of verse to read worthwhile.
What Coppertone's epoque, deep tan invites
whereon his tasting buds should ever trace
poetic cuisine's discourse fourthright
his foreign language will reach touch base.
Shan't ever inspirations lead his flight
above the sweetness of her warm eyes' hue
hors d'oeuvres' delicacy and choice of sight
a connoisseur of arts should taste fondue.
© G.V., 08-21-2013
Poem by: Mr. Ronald Watson
Sep. 13, 2012
My Poetry on PoetrySoup
Stinking thinking/ it leads to drinking./
What moisten the soul without an inkling?/
Unto making a wild left turn /while the right signal light were blinking./
Within a mild mix of rice, hops, and barley,
Since/ it is too much laugher at a karaoke party./
How Elvis sounds like,/ a broken Bob Marley?/
Now it’s as if,/ inhibitions are lowed/
Frozen in time/ and slipping far out of control./
As intuitions of minds does loathe,/ as such weariness echoes for tomorrow./
Yet,/ a stinking breath that smells just as death/ and it's where all funky asses dwells./
Though/ all hung over /and unjustified to flinging heavy heads into that porcelain king,/
Even this is a sight for red sore eyed Kings!/
It is an aftermath of ravishing through them royal purple cloth bags./
So/ afraid to admit that shallowness slowly drags!/
When,a sense of clarity which will just admit it.
That stinking thinking is difficult to kick, but
One day at a time, it is the only way to shine, or get fixed.
Thank youMy Poetry on PoetrySoup
I do not know?
INPUT FNAME = 'Yoni'
LNAME = 'Dvorkis';
Var Hidden_Meaning = "SAS code is not meant to be poetry you nut job";
Where Age >= 4;
Var Worldview = Parents_Worldview;
Var Facial_Expression = compress('Fear'||'Bewilderment'||'Jews believe in guilt');
Set Child (Drop= Innocence, Baby_Fat, Cheerful_Disposition);
Where Age >= 15 and BAC_Level >= .01;
Var Worldview = (Peer_Pressure * 100) + Favorite_Teacher_Worldview
Var Hidden_Meaning = "Where are you going with this?";
Set Teenager (Keep= Anger, Intelligence, Need_For_Material_Wealth, Hatred_Towards_Body
Var Job_That_Slowly_Kills_You = "Healthcare Data Analyst and SAS Programmer";
Var Worldview = (Company_Mission_Statement + Family_Is_Most_Important)
Where Age >= 21 and BAC_Level >= .15;
If Yearly_Salary >= 100,000 then
Self_Esteem = "Now I'm worth something!!";
Else if 50,000 <= Yearly_Salary < 100,000 then
Self_Esteem = "I guess I should count myself lucky...";
Else if Yearly_Salary < 50,000 then
Self_Esteem = ______;
Var Hidden_Meaning = "Jeez, you're really laying it on thick with the salary stuff";
Where Age >= 65 and Yearly_Salary = "Whatever's left of Social Security";
Var Cynical_Being =
(Why_Did_It_Have_To_End_Like_This * Years_Hiding_In_Plain_Sight )
Proc sort data = Old_Man out = Old_Man_On_Deathbed nodupkey;
Merge Old_Man_On_Deathbed (in = a) God (in = b);
If b and not a;
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Idiots like you,
belong in a school'
Don't get upset,
I went there too,
I passed all my classes,
cuz I was smarter than you,
But hey don't you worry'
You wont be one for long'
Just pass all your classes,
Go on what you waiting for,
No I don't think so
go right now.
Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.
Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.
Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.
Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.
Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?
Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.
The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.
The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.
Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.
Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.
Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.
crepitus announces itself annoyed
at my impudence as I climb the stairs
it speaks the language of stop, I don't
flatulence trumpets my presence
luckily no one is hear to breathe deep
another dead language of age
the sounds of decomposition make me smile
for even they can fill a blank page
Night sweats and crazy
Hot flashes and lazy
Mood swings and a body (?)
That looks pretty shoddy
Eating and bleeding and wanting to scream
These are a few of my Favorite Things
When your doctor
Says a shocker
Uterus is a lobster
I simply remember to pretend I'm filled with glee
I forget that my uterus is in atrophy
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Just like you!
White board…names written hori-
To go pee…right when class starts –
THAT’S just wrong…
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!
Not using lunchtime to do
No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-
When Causticat expressenced her doverse,
Aficionadog Yamahawker howled
the beseechickens' song that coyoterse
was chickencouraging allegrettold.
Chickenclopedia somehow pignored
the roosterrestrials' dancing chickentreat
Aficionadog's dance was abroadored
and his cathletics multilevelite.
The roosterrestrials thus, barracudanced
Galas! the maidenchanted Causticat
wide eyed she balladmired the saladvanced
and chickenable braves to broadenact.
Aficionadog's triple Axle loop
combined with Ballu Tundu workbenchasse
Romanaged to lexiconvince the coop,
and libidog of self Igniting Cats.
The Vibradog Mandelbrotating chanced
and buffalone friskated on the ice
cattractive Causticat and him codanced
with Yahahawker to acrobatice.
© G. V. 09-10-2013 All rights reserved
His lovely wife is named Heaven
She scolds him seventy times seven
Yet, Big Joe just never really cared
In Heaven he lives happily, hearing impaired!
Stacey Brown 2-6-14
Dr. Ram Mehta contest
Husbands are in heaven
whose wives scold not
I’m cool, warmed up, loose. I’m gonna crack this ball straight down the fairway
all the way to the white post, clean and straight. Yeah.
I’m the king of the worm burners, oh, no, I’m the baddest Tiger of these
here woods. Ha ha, not bad, I launched that there rocket clean
into that oak, missed my forehead, missed my partner, never you mind.
I’m out on the fairway now.
I’m cool, warmed up, loose. Got my eye on the ball.
King of Zen. Just swing and … yeah. Okay.
I’m King of the beach blanket beee-ing go. Okayyy. No problem. Golf is about practice
and practice make perfect. Okay, closed my eyes there.
Splash? Splash it is.
Okay, I’m Chipping King, just smack that ball into that little ole hole.
God’s be with me. Whew.
I’m the man. Ain’t I the man? Blow me a-way!
It’s all won on the greens guys. Ain’t I the King? Didn’t I just chip right in? Ever see
anything like that before? MMMhmm. You on for five on the next hole?
You are one of the reasons
Why they inflate their quote
If you had seized the seasons
Good men could have had your vote
You are one of the reasons
Why our sweet land has gone sour in waste
Here is one of your multiple treasons
You aid corruption just to suit your taste
You are one of the reasons we wedge weighty wrath
Bombs daily detonate like fickle fireworks far north
You decided to do nothing but shut your mouth
So they took our weary sail south
You are one of the reasons the land is inflicted with rape
Overflowing in abundance yet you mong like a greedy ape
Alas our land is grey and old but not due
And it hurts me to know that I am also you.
It’s a mother-in-law’s right, her prerogative
To ‘drop in’ on her son almost any time,
But a mother-in-law should always be prepared
For almost anything she may find.
So, Mother Cready dropped in unannounced;
But as she approached her son’s front door,
Suddenly it opened. “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?”
His young wife stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.
“Oh, my word!” Mother Cready exclaimed with surprise.
“Why are you naked? Are you insane?”
Just as surprised, the young wife pulled her inside.
“Please, Mother Cready…if you’ll just let me explain.
You see, when Mac has had a rough day,
When he’s been under a lot of stress,
Sometimes I meet him at the door
With a smile and a kiss in my happy dress.
It always relaxes him and makes him happy,
Then he makes me very happy too.
It works for Mac and me, Mother Cready;
Maybe it would work for you.”
“We’re too old for such.” scoffed Mother Cready.
“Perhaps if we were young like the two of you.”
But, on her way home, she decided
She was definitely going to try it too.
So, she bathed and put on some nice perfume,
Fixed her make-up and her hair.
She was thinking some very sexy thoughts,
But she had to hurry…no time to spare.
She heard her husband’s car in the driveway;
And as he approached their front door,
She threw it open. “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?"
She stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.
She saw a little grimace cross his face,
But that was not the worst.
Then he said, “I appreciate your happy dress, my dear;
But maybe you should have ironed it first.”
ALTERNATE LAST VERSE
“Well…your ‘happy dress’ could use some ironing;
But my birthday suit could use some starch.”
He kissed her. “Bet you and I can work it out.”;
And off to bed they marched.
I do not know?
Homework oh' homework
All kids say it stinks,
They say they wont do it,
but that it would disappear once they blink,
They say who invented it;
and who brung it forth,
They say they wish teachers would stop giving it,
And all though I agree
Homework is a good thing,
It will help you, you'll see
It will help tomorrow, today,
and years later
It will help you be smarter
it'll help you participate
So don't say that you hate it
All though you clearly do, because
you know that you need it
Watch this scene with both eyes and try not to blink C: -->
I stood there... silently
Like a predator near prey
I sneak behind YOU
You weren't even aware of it!! Ha-ha!
I made YOU jump hIgH
Like a startled hare
I chuckle and smile
You know that mischievous smile of mine?
Your reaction was
PRICELESS - you were so upset
But YOU forgave me
Well...I'm flattered. . .
We laugh'd together (just like the good times)
In a chorus - our volume
Picked up extreme sound
Believe me - I could hear our laughter from a mile away!
But I'm glad I did
My best to make you giggle
Wouldn't you agree?
A slight hint of consternation was in her voice,
“Why did you tell those people I’m deaf and dumb?”
“I never said you were deaf, my Dear.”
She laughed, but I kinda felt like a bum.
Hell. It was just a joke.
One evening, she asked, “Will you love me if I get chubby?”
I responded, “Of course I still love you.
It would take much more than pounds and cellulite
To make me fall out of love…it’s true.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
“Would you remarry if I die before you?” she asked.
I said, “No…probably not…I’ve been spoiled by you.”
“But you’ve been a great husband. I think you should.”
“Whatever happens, happens is the best I can do.”
“If you remarried, would you play golf with your new wife?
And would you let her use my clubs?” she demanded.
I calmly smiled and said, “Your clubs are safe.
You see, my Dear…she’s left handed.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
Then, she whined and whined about her butt.
I responded, “Want to knock some inches off that ass?
It may sound strange, but I heard it works….
Rinse all your panties in Slim Fast.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
The next day, I readied for work, took ‘undies’ from my drawer.
They were engulfed in a fog of white, why I didn’t know.
So, I asked, “Honey! Why did you put talcum powder on my shorts?”
She slyly smiled, “That’s not talcum powder. That’s Miracle Gro.”
Hell. It was just a joke....I guess.
So, what is my wife’s most endearing feature?
Her sense of humor.... there’s no doubt.
Always a smile where angst or anger might have been,
A smile I never want to be without.
I will start with using my hand as a guide
And in the end I will open my eyes that I will decide
I consider to do this with one thing in mind
I will close my eyes and will imagine it blind
With no colors or fractionation of the light
Just plain me and a vision with my hand as my sight
My hair is very coarse and some what fine
What I just described is so benign
I twirl my hair and make it bend
And I will say its very clean not oily on the ends
As I press on my forehead I simply feel a distinct part
I notice from hair to skin it is very different from the start
The simple partings from hair not like skin
I am going to feel with my other hand and begin
The smoothness of my skin like years of water eroding a rough rock surface smooth
Not just that my skin is like home to years of stories like scars and attitude
And when I raise my eyebrows the wrinkles it makes is more so for expression
I did not notice it with certain ideas, thoughts, and emotions
I run my hands down to my eyelids I feel movement of my eyes trying to peek
Eyelids that I have, vibrates with some kind of fear, Why?, that I will seek
Just now as I thought about it a sensation ran through my brain
My eyes is the world to me and that is true and not insane
Myself portrait of me is through my touch for now
But to finish it I will have to open my eyes soon and how
I been in a trance full of so many ideas just with my eyes closed
I run my hand on my nose and lips and I smile who could apposed
The feelings in the tip of my fingers rub on my chin and jaw with care
I do notice roughness of unshaved velcro gripping hair
I skip my ears so I will sneak a feel with my fingers I chose
I notice it is like my nose with cartilage, so I don't suppose
I will now open my eyes that I will use a mirror to see myself
My head is oval shape and my neck is like a stump, please help
My skin is very tan and my eyes are brown with my eyes I see
With all the description with my hands, one sure thing is the same and key
It is the description of measurements that is what my hands and eyes can see me
With a smile I am looking into the mirror and I can describe that I am happy
Myself portrait of me is such a way to get to know myself once more
I will never think it was a waste of time or a bore
Star Trek Rules!
It was time for: Comic Con! Comic Con! Dragon wanted to come, too!
But then so did everyone else at Troll Lake… Hey, now, wouldn’t you?
We made some really cool costumes… for the costume show, my Dear.
You can guess, ‘Star Trek Rules!’ It couldn’t be anything less, you hear.
Our favorite nighttime popcorn show, would truly now, become a part of our lives!
The penguins got permission from the zoo; to go… great publicity, so very wise.
McRacoon had his Las Vegas Dragons get us, and a mock saucer, there, all on time.
Naturally pre-registered and in costume, we strutted in! Hi there! Began the playtime!
Man we were really cool, as the guest actors ask for OUR autographs. For Real!
Pictures were snapped, and a poster made, to be signed by everyone, so cheerful.
It’s highest bid, given to charity, would be a nice touch, for everyone in our crew.
The costume show was set outside, where all the dragons, could fly in, or out, too.
And a small mock, star ship was landed on stage, so we could enter with more flare.
Lord a mercy! Look at us! We’d never be like this, again! We were like stars, I swear!
Grandpa Troll, became Mr. Spock, naturally, because he was so, very clever and wise.
Our neighbor witch, was Uhura, due to her great ability to, protect everyone’s’ lives.
Borp the Frog became Sulu, so he could take us up to Borp speed, with laser effects!
Hubby was Scotty, with the Tinker Trolls in engineering, for special effects, so perfect!
The penguins were the beloved crewmembers, running with lasers, all over the place.
The powder puff tribbles, got wet, so yes, became the ‘Trouble with Dribbles’, in space.
The Mary River Turtles wanted to be Checkov. What a groovy, exciting, security team.
Dragon wanted to be Captain Kirk, you know, like totally, in command… At the scene!
All agreed, I’d be a great Dr. McCoy, since I always get to, kiss the Boo- Boo’s away.
The Weird Frogs were the Aliens, chasing everyone mindlessly, around, the set, that day.
And the Las Vegas Dragons, became attacking star ships, over which our lasers won!
The crowds went wild, and we won first place in their hearts, as well as, in their minds!
Everyone had, such a good time, so the Trek continued, well after, when we got home.
That year Comic Con made the National news, and of course, nobody, was surprised!
As the residents of Troll Lake and Acorn Falls… continue to Trek on… every day!
By Mike and Carol Eastman…
Everyone is dressed just right,
with our smiles slapped on tight,
we are having a family dinner.
The mood is tense,
yet we have to make sense,
and we can always talk about the weather.
We blow kisses and show our love,
everything is just right.
We shower praises over each other,
and pray that the night is over without a flight.
Ignore the bitter-in-law,
she needs some sugar.
She vowed to deny herself happiness,
since she lost her lover.
Pay attention to the chatty uncle.
He claims to be rich although he eats like a savage.
just nod your head and seem interested,
and hope the topic does not turn to marriage.
Sit away from the young brother,
once an answer to his question, he is on to another.
To the old man he asks,"So what do you do?"
and to the orphan child,"Where is your mother?"
The room is beautiful, the food is delicious,
a night with our near and dear.
This could well be the perfect family dinner,
but only the flowers in the room seem real.
There was an old couple quite wizen
Stark nude in the mirror just risen
Both Larry and Linda
Could see their pudenda
But couldn't tell her'n from his'n
I was walking in the park last week,
when to me, a young boy did speak.
'Excuse me mister can you tell me,
where can I find a cookie tree?
I know that there are some in here,
and I've been told that they are near,
yes, before I was the age of three,
I knew all about the cookie tree!
I've never seen one yet, although,
they're definitely here, yes this I know,
as from a very young age they've told me so,
that cookie trees in this park grow.
So come on mister, tell me please,
where in this park are the cookie trees?
I have to find them before I'm old,
and they're definitely here, because I've been told.'
I answered him in the following way.
'Since I was young I've come to play,
and wander freely all around this park,
but your question leaves me in the dark.
Because, never once in all this time,
have I come across any sign,
to tell me that cookies grow on trees,
where did you get your info please? '
Straight away, the kid replied.
'Oh well, you're the first one that I've tried.
I didn't think I'd do it with ease,
you know, find the orchard of cookie trees.
So I'll carry on until I find,
someone who believes, and isn't blind,
yes a person who really, truly agrees,
with the fact that cookies grow on trees!
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?
I AM INTELLIGENCE!
In world of mannequins, I step to the cause.
I see this woman fussing at her child about wanting to go to the park.
How formed is this.
Hello Lady and such a beautiful boy he is.
He wants to play in the park.
However, you do not have time for that.
Let me see if I can solve your problem.
I am Intelligence.
Intelligence is a superhero that forms very delightful scenes.
I am humorous as well.
With superhuman powers, I provide a child with a dream.
I give this one the dream of playing in the park.
The child stops crying and obeys his mother.
In another episode, I am sent, telepathically, an abusive scene.
I transform arriving there instantly.
Through superhuman powers, I find a nurse and instruct him via
mind to be compassionate.
Intelligence watched for several days.
The facility conformed their healthcare tactics to better ways.
A little girl has broken her leg.
Her mother neglects and flagellates her more when she does not feel well.
Intelligence has watched for a short while.
The scene was sent via the mother verbally abusing her child.
Then she would stop for quite some time.
However, the child broke her leg while riding her bike.
The mother sees the chance to abuse outright.
Intelligence deploys to her mind and the mother begins to praise the child.
Intelligence is a moralistic superhero.
No age or race barriers does this superhero has.
In the time of hostilities, I am there.
I was given my superhuman abilities to achieve peace unconditionally.
PENNED ON AUGUST 30, 2014!
One more alien... an extra terrestrial. Bloody foreigners.
Since the time I was wearing a bib,
I was wise to the guys. That’s no fib!
“Hey, Baby,” I’d say,
“Come on over and play.
You just meet me tonight in my crib!”
And while most kids were learning to poo,
I was thinking up poems by age two.
I could coo a sweet verse
With no need to rehearse
Saying things like, “I’m gaga for you.”
I was writing my lines by age three
And creating sublime poetry.
First boys and then men
I caught with my pen.
LADY Gaga of verse now: that’s me!
For Susan Burch's
Ridiculous Self Exaggerations Poetry Contest
And now for PD's anything Goes!!!
Age forty -one this month is a chill
For brother who’s not over the hill
So he won’t seem unfit
Got a total face lift
Now he’s looking like a roasted grill
Fictional dedication to my older brother
The Perfect Limerick Contest of Andrea Dietrich
Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.
Plotting the precise angle with penetrating gaze,
the slant of slice, just so nice, as memory replays.
With curt tongue and tireless ire, I shred the sages
Burroughs, and Asimov, the Shakespeare past ages.
Butchering with rare delight, the language on the page
lancing every metaphor and simile upstaged.
and so I've arrived her in rhythm and in rhyme
killing the English language as other people dine.
*Nibbs are the pointed ends of fountain pens
as well as being an important or self-important person
Lookin' after pests
Keepin' a CLOSE eye on 'em
"Those wild animals!"
Roamin' around zoo
Searchin' for sneaky monkey
Hidin' in a tree
Zookeeper gets mad
"Where's Marty, the smartypants!?"
"He TOOK my cage keys!"
Before the "I do" she must choose
A man that does well in dance shoes
His psyche gives a clue
When employing step two
Ply him to the limit with booze
I stumbled drunkenly through Stroud
Passed the kebab van on the hill,
When all at once I saw a crowd
Of ladettes – taunting the old bill;
Just for a lark, just for a wheeze,
Flirting and dancing, dressed to tease.
Bedecked with bling, drinking cheap wine,
A clowder of cats out to play,
Perfume and bags by Calvin Klein
All you can eat slapper buffet.
Looking for violence not romance,
Tossing the V’s in fighting stance.
The plods approached askance, as they
Ignored them and crouched down to pee;
The deluge nearly washed away,
The council’s prized floral display!
I gazed – amazed - at just how short;
Their skirts were and indeed how taut.
Often now – I sit down and cry
(Sometimes it puts me off my food)
When I recall what I did spy
The female form so crass and rude;
Those harpies in search of cheap thrills,
Stooped - pissing on the daffodils.
(apologies to Mr Wordsworth)
As I sit and stare at the computer,
An image appeared makes me shudder,
An ugly humongous red-eyed monster,
Looking at me I wonder what it mutters.
As I sit and stare at the computer,
I grow hungrier and hungrier,
There is one enormous fish burger,
Looking at me with come hither.
As I sit and stare even longer,
Gosh! This time I see an image even bigger,
Of a Casper but absolutely fatter,
With all smile and cute laughter.
Oh! As I sit still and stare with disbelief,
Then something strikes me and I feel relief,
They are nothing more I must admit,
Of who else but none other the reflections of me.
Did you hear about Don? What a guy!
On the pretty gals he had his eye.
But he had zero chance
with them all. At romance
he kept messing up, for he was shy.
In a language school Don then enrolled
where he learned words of love, I am told.
Of cute *senoritas
he’d ask for *besitas.
His tongue was becoming quite bold!
The language of his newest dear
he’d be whispering into her ear:
With “Jet’aime,” “Querido,”
“Kuss mich” or “Ti amo” -
Through all Europe he roamed without fear.
With his sweet words, he’d go on and on
till he tired of a girl and be gone.
And that’s how a guy
named Don, once so shy,
is now known as a famous *Don Juan.
*senoritas = young ladies (in Spanish)
*besitas = little kisses (in Spanish)
*Jet'aime = I love you (in French)
*Querido = My dear (in Spanish)
*Kuss mich = Kiss me (in German)
*Ti amo = "I love you (in Italian)
*Don Juan= name for a womanizer (Spanish/English)
For Debbie Guzzi's Bi-Lingual Poetry Contest
When I was just a baby
Many years ago
I was so agile I could even suck my toe
Now I have trouble lifting up a cup
Oh how I hate growing up!.
When you'r a child everyone smiles at you
And say's ''awe, aren't you cute''
Bur now your an adult
Your as cute and popular
As an old worn out boot.
When your a kid
and lose a tooth
You put it under your pillow
And in the morning you find a quid
But now it's something you cannot do
Because you have to put your teeth into chew.
I suppose being an adult has it's advantages
You don't get ring worm nits and puppy fat
But why did I have to grow up
It wasn't in my plan
It just happened
And now I'm a man
Petwr Dome.copyright.2014. Aug.
Freda Cheda was a skank.
Her whole dang body stank.
Frank “Fugly” Ugly loved her anyway.
He thought about her night and day.
They got married and it was quite rank.
Make Me Laugh Contest
For Heather Ober
3 July 2013
The sun was shining brightly
As we drove around his land
And showing me his kingdom
First, before he asked my hand
We stopped for cake and coffee
It was almost half past two
And that tall man was shaking
When he told me I love you
He gently bent to kiss me
His lips began shaking fast
I thought this was the moment
That he would ask me at last
We climbed inside his Audi
Driving slowly to his farm
I thought this was the moment
When he gently touched my arm
But no, he was just helping
Me kindly into the house
We both walk in together
Was he playing cat and mouse
At six o’clock he brought me
Out to watch him milk the cows
And sitting on the stone fence
I watched as he fed the sows
I never thought he’d ask me
As I sat perched on my thrown
Then came, will you marry me
And his farm became my home
I know that’s not romantic
In this land of poetry
But standing in the manure
Was better than bended knee
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Contest: Will you Marry Me
My wife always says I’m the best
A feeling which brought me much zest
One night wild thoughts flew
In search of a clue
I wondered just who were the rest
In My Language
This you might not know is a conversation,
It’s a conversation not of persons.
This is a conversation of multiple languages.
If you could observe the functions of my mind,
You would marvel at the thought processes
Criss-crossing ideas in various languages
I am not sorry for not thinking in one language only.
I am happy that the multiplicity of languages
Offers me just as multiple images;
Here you are thinking I am writing this in English,
Yes. But know this that what you see in this language
Is thought through ciTonga, through, siLozi and even
Through ichiBemba and chiChewa
How more purer can an idea be created!?
You sure do not know that a dog in siLozi is nja…
To know the word ‘dog’ I need to imagine ‘nja’
How else would I know its meaning?
To write a sentence, I must have thought about it
Three times more than you reading this…
‘Wait a minute’ in my language does not mean sixty ticking bits
That’s what it means to you…
In my language your minute could last a year…
You wonder why ninety days is more than ten years!
Wait a minute darling…welcome to my world.
In my language things are winding.
Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that a ‘chimbwi’
Refers only to the animal ‘hyena’
It should; but does it?
In my language, you are safe if you do not translate anything.
Say ‘chikala’ and you will be cheered on
Translate that to some uncivilized language…
It’d be too civil for the hearing.
We do not name, we image in my language…
Love imaged as someone’s property
Think of a car that one really cares for…
That’d not sound real romantic in your ears…
In my language a mate would dance hearing
Being referred to as a well-tended car…
In my language, unlike yours, ‘fat’ is a compliment
Sex is communicated through naughty dances.
No one is exempted from these dances.
Even people in public offices show desire…
What you see…that’d not what you get.
The smiles carry within them deep felt grief.
They hope their loved one would come back.
He has prayed his goodbyes without facing them.
They wait for a minute; they still wait.
They sing dirges as the sun sets
There you are thinking they are morning a loss
In truth, they are rehearsing for a soon to occur demise
The disease without a name has come to visit yet again.
In my language stories are a norm
Alcoholic drinks accompany the tales
We have long known how to play our ‘ngoma’
The sound of ngoma does not mean anything to you; maybe
We know the differences in pulses;
Which announces a birth and which a death
There are fewer birth sounds…not birth to this side
Many births to the other side…
In my language Christmas is not the birth of some strange child.
It is for eating and drinking rare food and beverages.
The free range chickens know where to hide…
The greens wave with joy; they celebrate…
The not so nimble white hens pray in surrender…
The young and the old flirt…what a sight…
All adorned in new regalia…
In my language…
© Copyright.2012. All Rights Reserved. Nsamu Moonga
Sassy Irish lassie that is clear But I think too much green beer Teasing with the stripped clover All the fun and games are over Awoke to lose her charms, Oh Dear
Your love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and i'm
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried
by the dove of someone I use to know.
I am sixty six and counting,
or is it sixty seven?
No, it is definitely sixty six.
There are no more cakes or cookies,
and definitely no red wine.
Now it is a honey bun and sweet tea,
along with some handshakes
and maybe a few backslaps
from other old codgers just like me.
I don’t really miss the excitement
of the birthdays of my youth,
but I do miss the lovely young women
without wheelchairs or walking canes.
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?
Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”
I painstakingly take down reading list.
(I thought that our dear teacher surely gist.)
“Of Bison Men”, antiquity : out o’ print;
and “Batcher in the Fry”, a concrete stint.
“Odious Night in Gail”, seen fit to ban –
Perhaps by an old “RAD at Sky March” fan.
And “Cellphone flowers of yellow and green”,
From “Loose'y in the Sky with Diamonds”, seen.
“You Lie, Sees” on top of list of sorcerers –
Our Homers being the main baseball scorers.
“Vinnie, VD, Vichy~”: Dude ate too much
I do not understand the rash and rush…
A cross all incontinence, without much flare,
there grammar mistakes is to much too bare.
1. Bison: Prehistoric animal, now extinct. Also, Bison Men Street Fighter = movie;
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
2. The Catcher in the Rye is a 1951 novel by J. D. Salinger
3. Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats
4. Radetsky March by Johann Strauss Sr.
5. RAD – abbreviation of many interpretations; also, slang for “great”
6. The actual line from “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” is: “Cellophane… “
7. "Loose'y" is slang for cigarettes sold singularly
8. Ulysses is derived from Ulixes, the Latin name for Odysseus, a character in ancient Greek literature. Odysseus also known by the Roman name Ulysses was a legendary Greek king of Ithaca and a hero of the blind poet, Homer's epic poem, the Odyssey.
9. Julius Caesar said this when described how/what he did on his campaign. (veni (I came), vidi (I saw), vici (I conquered). Colloquially used by teenagers as an expression for conquests of the opposite sex. "Vichy" as in vichysoisse, a cold potato soup
10. In the final couplet I vent my frustration with the incorrect usage and spelling which I often encounter in script; spelling and grammar which change the intended meaning of the text.
11. Written in: A quatorzain (from French quatorze, fourteen) is a poem of fourteen lines. Historically the term has often been used interchangeably with the term 'sonnet'. Various writers have tried to draw distinctions between 'true' sonnets, and quatorzains. Nowadays the term is seldom used, and when it is, it usually is used to distinguish fourteen line poems that do not follow the various rules that describe the sonnet. I followed the Shakespeare sonnet style with the volta at the COUPLET:"In Shakespeare's sonnets, however, the volta usually comes in the couplet, and usually summarizes the theme of the poem or introduces a fresh new look at the theme." ~ Wikipedia
6 July 2013
Sponsor Roy Jerden
Contest Name Malapropisms and Mondegreens
If its money I got its money ill keep.
If its money I have its money ill weep.
If its love that I give its love ill receive.
For I am but no one who just see's beneath.
Some say your only as strong as you feel, but how could we change..in a place that's so unreal. People are hearing but..not really hearing. Why is the world so blind. I keep on screaming and screaming and screaming for things to be revolutionized. I am just a small song in a world full of cries, laughter, tears and french-fries.
Some cat entered my room one night
I thought it was a ghost
It smelled like something had just died
But I must oblige my guest as the host
I turned on the light and there it was
An obnoxious opossum at best!
Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous!
Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest!
I left the house with a shutter
Before I realized I was heavily surrounded
By cats on all sides, up and under
The house they had all just rounded!
In truth I was perturbed on all levels
That I began to realize in horror
That damn opossum had spawned these little devils!
And tonight I must end this terror!
I then ran straight to the kitchen
Aware of the opossum inside
If I give up the tuna and ditch um’
Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive
The persistent cats scratched at the holes
Those buggers—those meddlers!
They could have been thieves—if not trolls!
Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers!
Worst of all in this dilemma
Tomorrow was grocery day
There were no more cans of tuna
All my fish had swam away!
Somehow one got in
And the rest came barreling through
I ran toward my room to him
The opossum looked so distressed and blue
The little beady eyes pierced my soul
And I knew from then on he was my friend
He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls
And escape a most pitiful end!
I made up my mind at last
And picked up my trusty broom
Come on in—I dare yah tah pass!
Ain’t no feline coming through this room!
Glowing eyes burned with intent
And the yowling grew loud as hell
The little bullies think they can take my guest!
They’ll fly like birds they will!
That night was a battle like none other
A battle I will proudly say I won
I gained the friend of my life—a brother
My pet’s a load of fun!
As much as I love a neighbor cat
They are a little scary as a race
Thankfully a broom will push them back
And put them in their place
My opossum is a sweet little thing
And I protect him with my life
I’ll never judge a critter again
Till actions bring it to light
The confusing world of poetry
Clerihews, and couplets
Acrostics, and Haikus
Me head is spinning round and round
Oh Lord I’m so confused
I’d like to read about the stuff
But I really ain’t got time
I’m too busy trying to write
In rhythm and in rhyme
I never was so very clever
I flunked in all at school
I guess me dad, he got it right
He called me village fool
He tried to make me turn out clever
But he didn’t have a chance
Cause I’m a dreamer through and through
You can see that at first glance.
So I don’t know about complex things
I’m just a simple man
But me, I’ve wrote eight thousand songs
And I’ve done it cause I can
The words roll out like a waterfall
And they come just like they are
And I talk about love, and I talk about life
And the flowers and the stars.
25 July 2013 @ 0925hrs.
In Honor of Independence Day
We the People of the United States,
in Order to form a more perfect Union,
establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility,
provide for the common defense,
promote the general Welfare,
and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity,
do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America
In Honor of Roy Jerden's Contest: "Malapropisms and Mondegreens"
A Peeping Tom's Preamble of the United States
(Read and weep, as down you scroll!....)
of this excited state
inordinate form of amoral fate
of flabby lushes....(brewin')
insures ecstatic fertility,
providing the comical defense,
emoting of gin, will wear (no sense!)
liquor and confessing of libation
creeping into our shelves (invasion!)
his dour posterior
does shame and tabulate this (inferior)
constant situation for the (law's)
unsightly state of amoral's cause !"
Oh dear.........Forgive me !!
Only for Roy, would I stoop so low! LOL !
But of course
As I sense the daylight strut through my mind,
I open my Squint's just enough to find,
one more day on this circle called Earth.
only 20,125 since the day of my birth.
I pull myself up with creaks and groans,
not stopping once until I've reached my thrown.
Start, Stop, Start, Stop life has played a trick it seems,
making this function that should be simple,
most difficult for me.
My friends all tell me age is just a number,
and I couldn't agree more.
20,126 and counting as my feet hit the floor.
Start, Stop, Start, Stop prostate exam on the 5th,
why, this growing old isn't all that hard as I take one more barium sip.
The hair is diminishing on the top of my head,
but growing in my ears someone once said.
The wrinkles on my for head that once never showed,
20,127 just a roadmap to go.
It use to be my youth was free, careless, casual, and wild.
now in my old age I'm sorry to say; I 'm out dated, out witted and out styled.
so to be apart of the elderly,
you have to be a bit bold.
just get use to the fact for the rest of your life,
you'll always be getting old.
Stop writing haikus
They don’t even make sense now
Something something cake
Dedicated to an author by the name of William Golding... Enjoy!!!
~Two boys meet on an island
~~One is skin 'n bones
~~~The other one is chubby
They discover a lagoon~
Ralph teases him by calling~~
him "Piggy" - how mean!!~~~
Piggy asks him if
There are other people on
The island with 'em
He has no clue
But this'll answer Piggy's question --
Other boys appear -
All diverse shapes and sizes
What'll happen next??
Have you ever read The Lord of the Flies?
I recommend it if yah haven't read it yet - I must admit
It's a book full of adult words and it's simply...FASCINATING! - no lies
You should read it - or you'll regret it!
You send bolts through my skin
something I was never to
accomplish with you, when I
saw you it's like my heart sank
to my stomach and I was in
shock my body still my body
heavy felt like when I moved I
was about to fall to my knees
you make me want to get
inside my brain pick you up and
take you out pick you one by
one like a flower because I do
love you and love you not.
To Dine, To Die;
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.
Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.
An endless groan
The debate grants no throne.
Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.
"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.
A leprechaun from Ireland
made it to the United States.
She came in spite to
destroy St. Patrick’s Day.
She docked in Mass. joined in the Parade.
She was enriched; her appearance changed quick.
Ms. Aideen Mac Cool wealth was
not known to anyone.
She fight with sticks and
hit with bricks when someone
finds her pot of gold.
She yells, “I am a Limerick;
a perfect pitch of Irish folklore.
As a Leprechaun, I will kill
over my pot of gold.”
I am never one to not forewarn.
~I am Ms Aideen McCool!~.
Note: This is a three tier Limerick (also can be considered as a poem). Each is written in a Limerick form, which is Lines One, Two, and Five all rhyme with each other, and Lines Three and Four rhyme with each other. More, a leprechaun is a green theme in which Ms. Aideen Mac Cool wears green (costume and clothing) and loves the color green. Her favorite color is green. She is a leprechaun. All pertains green as they theme to nature colors. They possess the luck of the Irish for St. Patrick's Green Day.
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Name: Any Green Theme (old/new) nature/color (St. Patrick's Day poem/limerick)
The wife plans a spree to buy all
With husband on board at the mall
But as this takes place
He just looks for a space
To sit on a bench in the hall
WELCOME TO THE SOUP!
This is Poetry Diva.
I know when I am being cheated.
Between first and fifth place my poems define.
If not, I have not follow the syllable count.
However, in rhyme, couplet, free verse, etcetera, I am never an underdog.
Therefore, why do I enter contests when I know it favoritism on the Soup y’all?
Well, a true Poet or Poetess, as prior stated, never lose.
Welcome to the SOUP!
PENNED ON AUGUST 27, 2014!
Just a honeymoon beach vacation,
A fine nuptial love celebration;
We arrived a night early,
We would find hotel surely:
“No rooms” was the sad proclamation.
“An hour away you might find one.”
They were right for we only found…NONE!!
We got off beaten path.
Too tired then to laugh,
Looked for a place “mom and pop” run.
Well, it must have been close to midnight,
Exhausted the lady and her knight;
We found Motel Warwick,
A guest house illicit,
And christened our honeymoon site.
July 13, 2014
What’s sexy to me, changed with my age
It’s something different at each life stage
During my pre-teens, what turned me on
Were the toys and games played on the lawn
A teenage kiss put me in a twirl
That was the age I discovered girls
The dating years were sexy and great
The came my honeymoon with my mate
Then a young adult’s sexist thrill
Was our first child; she forgot the pill
My middle age major commotion
A sexy bonus or promotion
Golf was sexy in retirement years
So was kicking back, having a beer
What’s sexy now I’m seventy-five
Is to wake up and still be alive
Submitted by Charles Sides
“Sexy!” Poetry Contest
London , holds all its stories of old
Tea time all day , tea with a cozy
Tea time held proper at 4pm.
Everyone stops , everyone awaits a pot.
Earl Grey to PG Tips
Milk served with biscuits
tiny tea sandwiches
with cucumbers and cream cheese
From Luton to " the Cotwalds "
Always the same theme
The different dialects are not important to us
We are fascinated by all the difference
We love the Beatles , and your red Bus.
what part of London you are from
It really means nothing to the Yanks .
The East , to The south , The Northern , or West end
The fish and chips are delicious served in paper with Vinegar
Neapolitans with high tea , fresh cream , we Love Great Britain.
to be entered in " new contest "
Gregor the slowest
Felt nothing but fear
To prove he was worthy
He must kill a deer
A great giant bat
Was chasing him far
He ran and he ran
Towards that tiny North star
The deer weighed a lot
Tied to his small back
He tripped and he fell
He was under attack!
He drew out his sword
Sort of stumpy and dull
And brandished it boldly
Like the horn of a bull
He slew the fierce beast
Stabbed him with a strong hand
Then he continued to travel
Just like he had planned
But he, he was careless
Not looking around
Big lots of danger
So soon would abound
He tripped and he fell
Like the cretin he was
Right into the swamp
Full of monsters and fuzz
Then all of a sudden
He felt a strange thing
A nip and a nibble
And then a sharp sting
He jumped like a moose
Right out of his skin
He saw a large rat
To his leg it did cling
A bash of his hand
Then a kick and a stomp
But to no avail
The rat did still romp
He sat in despair
He cried and he sobbed
And he could not swim
So he had to bob
A rat on his leg
And his face in the mud
He would have been dead
He was in deep crud
But Harry was near
The God of the Dumb
A snap and a crackle
He was out of the scum
Hooray! he did shout
Yippee! and Booyaw!
Then he sat down to chat
With his savior, the God
“Oh dearest Harry,
My life you did save
To tell you my story
You must be the brave
It is very thrilling,
A strong heart you must bear
I’ll start from the outset
Its truthful, I swear!”
Gregor felt empty
He needed a friend
He came across Zera
His heart she to mend
But she was a princess
A beauty, a crest
Gregor needed some help
To prove he was best
So he went to the wood
To kill a great deer
He rode off like lightning
Just a small bit of fear
Deer large as a house
Ran into the path
Gregor ran after
But got way off track
Lost as a donkey
He neighed and he brayed
Galloping in circles
His terror displayed
He sat down and cried
But out of the night
Came a huge giant bat
All ready to fight
“And that is my tale”
Said he with a smile
Harry sat straight
And thought for a while
Then he got up and took
Gregor by his small hand
He led him back home
To his native land
Harry led him to Zera
So he could say hi
He said hi very well
And his fortunes did fly
They fell deeply in love
And had many kids
Now Gregor has friends
And a few little squids
And that is the tale
Of poor little Greg
His fortunes did rise
Right out of the dregs
With some help, he flew
Right out of his hole
Didn’t need to dig down
Like a little blind mole
My one attempt at marriage
Was like a union between McCoy and Kahn
Both a wee-bit dramatic
Like living a full fledge grand opera
"My God man, we're living a circus
And you have jumped off the deep end
What you're proposing is lunacy
I'm a doctor, not a barbarian!"
"Have you heard the Klingon expression
Revenge is a dish best served cold?
If you want to make this marriage work
Then damn you!!!! Do as you're told!!!!"
(McCoy and Kahn)
"For God's sake listen to yourself
What you're saying is just plain crazy"
"From hell's hot I stab at thee......
For hate's sake, I spit my last breath..........at thee.........."
[no, the marriage didn't work out, haha. And last night I ran into my
ex-wife. She had the gall to speak to me. So I just wrote this with
genuine laughter in my heart.]
Cowboys aren’t smart.
They are from California and the tale of how the West was won.
They ride horses and make movies that many times is watched by dudes.
Cowboys are smart.
They are from California and how the West was won.
They ride horses and rope cattle and build log cabins that they say is their seat in Heaven.
Cowboy movies are liked by many and they always want to fight Indians.
A cowboy can be a real idiot and when he wants to be a genius, he is real witty.
Cowboys and how the West was won.
Bazookas In The Bed
We have a mosquito problem
It’s in our house. It never ends
There’s nothing we can do but shoot them
Then shoot them over and over again
You see…You understand…They’re not our friends
Potions, tonics, sprays all make them happy
It gives them strength to multiply
We’re looking to make their lives less comfy
Less pleasant less satisfied
It’s not from animus or hate
Shells and ammo is the case. It’s simply fate
And to that end
I stay up late at night and wait
7 bazookas by my side and sights are ready
And from my bed in the deepest dark
I fire at will! I fire straight!
The idea is not to simply kill them
Though that would be so very great
But to make them really really dead
With bazooka fire power from my bed
My wife she says that at housework I suck,
She yelled "pick up a broom you schmuck!"
But babe, all that cleanin and dustin
Leaves no time for drinkin and lustin!
But she said "no dustin, no lustin!"...WTF!
Today is Doomsday.
Some believe today is Doomsday
Some say maybe the end of the year
However, do we really care?
How would the earth end?
In a ball of fire or
would it swallow us up into puff of dust
in a matter of an hour..
I rather am buried under pile of snow.
Eternal Preservation "what a nice way to go
However do we have option in a world?
Where lunatics have taken over asylums
where deranged souls spreading like a social cancer
Is doomsday the answer..?
Within the mirror
I see an image staring back at me
with every move I make
my image responds in kind.
Smile for smile...
Frown for frown...
Even laughing at/with me when I laugh
perhaps my image sees what I see
Never does my image change
which makes me wonder even more
Just who this person really is.
When I turn away, the image seems to disappear
but only for a second
for when I turn back, there I am again.
Which makes me ask?
where does my image go when I leave the room?
Does it perhaps lie in wait for me to return?
to once again look back at me.
Perhaps it leaves with me
for when I see my reflection in passing by other mirrors
there again is my image staring back at me.
It’s your birthday getting closer to golden age.
You’re not getting older just an amazing sage.
You can do anything you want to now.
Even set up and purr and say meow.
You are smarter than all those other girls.
So shake that bootie, dance with swirls.
You were doing the twerk, at school and work.
Everyone just thought you were going berserk.
Happy Birthday and go ahead and dance the jerk.
Pay no attention to anyone just give a smirk.
This is your special day, be happy in every way.
Go ahead and sing the birthday song for all.
If anyone complains just say it’s a squirrel call.
If you do it well like Marilyn Monroe did once.
And get lucky I will not tell, I’ll just act like a dunce.
written by Cecil Hickman
hope you and the girls enjoy this one.
I see her there next to the jukebox.
I see him alone at the bar.
Damn, she looks good in that outfit.
Look at the size of his arms.
How can I get his attention?
Perhaps I should buy her a beer.
Why am I feeling so nervous?
Why am I filled with this fear?
I bet she’s already been taken.
He must have found someone to love.
I bet that she thinks I’m a loser.
I must not be attractive enough.
Screw it—there’s no point in trying.
Forget it— I’m just going home.
I guess I can see what’s on Netflix.
I guess I’ll watch Netflix alone.
GIRL IN THE MIRROR *
Like a ship’s compass sits in the binnacle unmoving
While the vessel rolls and pitches,
As if her eyes and head were on separate swivel bearings
She faced me as I spoke but the eyes rolled
Magnetically to the mirror at her side,
Assessing the exact shape and size
Of all the important parts of her outline
From all possible angles, all possible lighting,
While making written notes of my instructions.
And the pen moved unerringly across the paper,
Quickly, error-free and blotless, yet unguided
By eyes which were otherwise engaged:
And she asked politely if that was all, and smiled
At herself as she ushered me from the office,
So she could confront her image more directly
With her automatically-homing radar eyes :
And get an exact bearing on her bows and stern.
. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .
*This shop girl in Moscow was much more interested in her
own image in the mirror than in talking directly to my face.
I had something
Some time ago
And cannot seem to find it
Or remember what it was
I looked and looked
And found something else
That I did not remember
Some time ago
Or even having had
I am very happy
Having found it
Quid pro quo Penny ante It is only a penny for your thoughts Unless you do not know? Happiness can’t be bought With no money to burn and a penny saved is a penny earned Why do you put in your two cents worth?
When the sun begins to rise and I open my eyes,
I see only the path to my adventure.
I am taken with delight as I prepare to ride in flight,
If only I could find my upper denture.
I touch the floor with feet and slippers hope to meet,
But instead I find the floor so cold.
I am reaching for my glasses as my spouse so often sasses,
On my head she says; I must be getting old.
Out of bed I wander to the closet of the water,
Hoping to awaken to a younger man.
My grandpa so I see I'm so sure that it's not me,
That I say to him in mirror gramps the man.
Though the wrinkles on my hands look like twisted rubber bands,
I know that I am stronger than I seem.
My hair, though not it's tint is all there leaves me a gent'
And with in my eyes you even see a gleam.
I'm walking rather slow, these days and don't you know,
I see so many things I'd long forgotten.
How a bug crawls upon the ground intent
And how a twig so twisted like me is bent.
Oh the pains that life does dish.
Each night as I retire my spouse say's how's the fire,
And I answer not as hot as I may wish.
So does end my daily adventure another one to come,
The end of this dear poem, my life's days a brand new sum...
I've always been a prankster; I just can't resist a joke.
I think I'll shake things up a bit, when in the old folks home.
They'll think they have a fairy when I hide all their false teeth.
No money left, just a note; a cactus they are neath.
Swap preparation H with Bengay; this will be such fun!
Muscles shrank up, butts on fire; Oh! How they will run!
Spike the soup, send invitations; my party please attend.
Bed pans on our heads and stripped down to Depends.
Don't fall asleep with eye glasses left upon your head.
I'll paint flames or angels on them. You'll think you woke up dead.
I'll grab my chest and moan and groan; they'll call a handsome Doc..
When he gives me mouth to mouth... MUAH... A double lip lock!
When they come to check my vitals; Ha! This one's truly grand.
I'll play possum then yell, BOO!! They'll faint right where they stand.
A go-cart motor on my Little Raskle; down the halls I'll speed.
Skid marks round the corners. The fastest nurses won't catch me.
They'll place a warning on my door for all the world to see:
"Enter at your own risk.".... They'll call me, Hell on Wheels... HEE! HEE! HEE!
when you get old
and can’t lift your arm
above your shoulder
because of arthritis
and if it stays up
for more than four hours
in a Nazi like salute
don’t call Dr. vonStout
lock your door
and don’t go out
Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival,
I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches
Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag’s innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
He holds the key to this new world.
The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience
Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped
Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence
Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped
Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.
My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
Our intrepid journey commences...
A Teenage Kiss
A Teenage Kiss
By Elton Camp
Jason on young Susan had his eye
To give her a big kiss the boy did try
She wore braces as did he
Didn’t expect how that could be
So their interlocked wires they had to pry
Babies have been known to crawl
Up to seven hundred feet a day
Better tie a rope tightly around them
Or they'll wind up miles away
Sex burns 360 calories per hour
Who has sex for an hour
Longest for me is seventy-three seconds
Burn more just having a shower
In Finland every Donald Duck comic
Was banned a few decades ago
Betcha can't guess the reason why
He was naked down below
Summer on Uranus lasts 21 years
Packing my bags as I write
Better not forget the sun tan lotion
My epidermis is pure lily white
From around the age of thirty
Humans begin to shrink
Imagine we lived to a hundred and fifty
We'd be one inch tall methinks
During a normal human life span
Hearts beat more than two billion times
So anything less than that huge number
You're dead so it's time to recline
About 400 different kinds of microbes
Coexist on the human body
They don't even wait for an invitation
Like in-laws I find that shoddy
Only one in two billion people will live
To the age of one hundred sixteen
Sorry for all you nice folks out there
But I'm the one chosen it seems
Giraffes can clean their ears with their tongue
It's dangerous don't try this at home
It might just twist you into a pretzel
And even break a few bones!
© Jack Ellison 2012
What's with that yelling already?
Me Tarzan, Me Man, Me Make Noise
I can see that. Inside voice, please.
You'll wake up Cheetah and you know
How grumpy he gets if his nap is interrupted
Enough, I know already
Me hungry, Jane make lunch
Now wait a minute Jungle Boy, I'm tired
Of waiting on you hand and foot
Make your own lunch
Woman take care of Man, Woman listen to Man, Law of Jungle
That doesn't impress me, loin cloth breath!
Jane talk funny since trip to Ameeereeka
Listen here tree vine jockey, I learned a lot in New Joysee
Women have rights, they used to burn their bras
What is bras, me no understand
Didn't think so. Either you treat me with respect or I'm out of here!
Where Jane go?
Maybe back to New Joysee
Tarzan listen Jane
Jane teach Tarzan respect
Now you're talking
First lesson, what's for lunch?
Every week on Friday
McGee worked late at night
But this time would be different
The work load seem real light
So he left a little early
Punched his card and tipped his hat
Then headed to O'Malley's
For a stiff one and some chat
But a feeling seem to come to him
Perhaps He'd just go home
And surprise his little wife
That's waiting there alone
So he walks down the empty streets
"Till he made it to his door
Takes his shoes off as he enters
As to tip-toe cross the floor
That's when he hears some noise
Cracks the bedroom door to see
His Buddy Finn and his wife
Are making merrily
Oh, McGee he got so flustered
But didn't stop their fun
And slowly crept away
To the next room for his gun
He was locked and Loaded
When he kicked right through the door
With the gun at his head, He said,
"I can't take this anymore"
But his wife left the bed
And knelt down on her knees
And begged him not to kill himself
and "Put the gun down,Please"
McGee then looked upon his wife
His expression was quite vexed
Then he told her to "SHUT UP"
Cause she was surly NEXT !
We know we are right and we will fight
If you dare appose us we will bite
When good doers think they have a chance
We take their idea and we do the dance
We are the law that makes the choice
And no one can keep their face in a good poise
Because we will smack them with a hammer
As we see them we will make them stammer
Just because we are justice
And we try to do some odd practice
Now we will get back on track
We the people take charge and attack
Wait, what are we attacking? the people that are not right
Oh! thats just my brothers and sisters oh! they are a sight
Now look here, we, we the people makes laws
It doesn't matter how many people open their jaws
I'm all confused, we are the people, did we not choose?
We are, but certain people are just to loose
Fine, this is what the new law we want to appose
Why? because we are confused about what we chose
Using we as a word is to many
It takes all of us even granny
So this is what we want to do, is put I and you separate
And the other that we are to choose to elaborate
I am going to say this, we are to many individuals
So we separate the ones who are good doers
That does not make sense
To put all the yous and I's in a group, it's just dense
Are you with me? no I am with myself in this
I am going to rub it in your face and be in a bliss
So I will do the justice myself, and you has decide to disobey
This is what I mean to do, and it will be O.K.
Debating myself is some what kinda weird
You need to be by my side because we make choices better
So this time you and I will just make justice a letter
The clue is what we do that is some what true
It's funny when words play a game to argue the virtue
When I mean I, I mean I, and when I say you, it is you
When I say we, it is us, and that is what my argument is all about, too.
Fifty, fifty is what the Dragon Slayer is saying, it becomes no greater nor smaller
We are all at fault and our decisions that we have made is for all of us to stand taller
Even when it is wrong and we do things to put down the strong
And our arguments become pointless and long
Our justice is when we started to put it on paper and making it a law that stand
So all of us, in the long run will simply decide to band
So you are the birthday girl?.....Could it be true?
And the very thought is making you blue?
Well.....what can I possibly say on this day, of all days?
some kind of wisdom to comfort and cheer you?
As I would recall....
my mom used to say, if you can't say something nice
don't say it at all.......!
But here's some advice
if your mirror has cracked, like a big hunk of ice
It might be the sight, you have given it fright!
Don't look at it twice!! It will never be nice!
So cover the glass, don't show it your ass
The ghastly effect, will shatter what's left!
If the twinkle is gone.....and a wrinkle surrounds
The frown in your brow, where the crow lines have come
to roost for awhile
just be glad that bees aren't making a hive
in that honeybun sag, where your boobs used to hide!
If your backside is found on the ground facing south
turn your mouth to a smile, just be glad you're alive!!
For Carolyn's Contest: Birthday, and Aging Humor
We are sick to think we have done something big.
We are in a daze and nothing more.
The cats that came were deformed.
They legs were made to dance.
The rigmarole was a silent scream.
They were as colorful as butterflies.
They walked around with scary eyes.
The fat men that brought them were sloppy pigs.
They were sick to think they had done something big.
Immense the ravage these pigs were.
They were friends to the deformed felines.
They stomachs were made to prey human.
The raze caused confusion.
They were to form the great divided.
They walked around with scary eyes.
They would feast on the rodents that thrive in the ground.
They were to be taught this or they would be wiped out.
On a deadly morn, the cats woke.
By noon, the pigs honked.
The people of the City did their work.
This would be the day guns smoked.
The Cats lives were lived in dilapidation.
The Pigs lives were in slop.
The Wild Boars would try to convert.
The pigs were pigs ate by the humans.
The battle started.
The humans killed more.
The wild boars receded.
The deformed felines were destroyed.
~Inspired by the expressive art of poetry via storytelling, fantasy, fairy tales, tall tales, etc.~
When I was young, I noticed
Many adults stopped aging at 39.
Had something to do with Jack Benny
And trying to hold back time.
Then I noticed something else.
They often spoke of retiring at 65,
And many of them seemed to hope
They might still be alive.
The difference came to 26,
A number I knew very well.
The number of letters in the alphabet
We use to print and write and spell.
Then it occurred to me,
For folks holding youth so dear,
Just add a letter to 39
Each and every year.
39A would be 40,
39Z would be 65.
After that, start letters over again
Or just be glad you’re still alive.
So, you see, it’s easy
To forever be 39.
You may fool yourself & others,
But you can’t fool Father Time.
The Image of Being In Need
My eyes are covered in gauze,
from dirt scratching
both of my corneas.
My boyfriend leads me around
otherwise I'd find myself on my
knees feeling the ground.
He takes care of me
and tends to my needs.
He accidently squirts
ear wax cleaner
into my eyes instead
of my prescribed
Oh the pain,
I thought would
drive me insane.
No apologies either!
He picks my clothes out
and helps me dress,
too close for my
The humility found in
depending on another
for survival was not high.
So glad I'm looking
for a new guy now,
the image of me
depending on him
for a lifetime
is not a good one.
For he left me
feeling more like
a burden then
a friend in need,
to me that
a bad seed
I do not know?
Illegitimi non carborundum ;-)
...Staggering, my vision cloudy,
I fall to the hard ground.
when life’s sharp left-jab leaves my face bloody,
and all that surrounds me, is the desolation of loss I feel all around.
I see myself slipping,
down the abyss to where nothingness exists,
still, I cling on, groping for a foothold,
for my will to stay persists.
I clamber up, I stand my ground, though battered and bruised I may be,
my curtain is not falling yet, I have some fight still left in me.
It is then, in the pit of despair, when all seems bleak and painful and dull,
I summon the strength from deep within,
I rise, slowly, to face the day,
I refuse to sink,
to wallow, to surrender, to throw in the towel,
for I am stronger now,
indeed I am, after all the years, and all the battles,
I stand, bruised and bloody,
I refuse, to sink, to drown,
for they can try, to punish me some more,
but I shall not allow them to grind me down…
da big puppee wun away twees ma ma get foe mee peese we no do that baby go bye bye hims bad bo-bo dats gweezwy dada whaauh maa maa say no doggie wiee where him go dolly dat wayee waite hunnie hunnie nooowaa mawmie wiee daddie in twee
“One of the biggest kicks a person can have is a feeling of righteous indignation.”
~ Alan Watts, in a recorded talk titled “Reality, Art, and Illusion” (1965)
If gay folks can marry, is marriage worth less?
Your love and attachment worth nothing, of course
Or maybe those just don’t exist – let’s confess
You’d rather they cheapen the cost of divorce.
If gay folks can marry, does that mean God failed?
Deny they came out swinging as you despise –
Makes sense to assert that God would’ve prevailed
Had man skipped the paperwork that sanctifies.
If gay folks can marry, say who is worse off?
The billions of us, dear, engaging in sex?
Our billions more children won’t have room to scoff
Or private space left to repeat such prospects.
If gay folks can marry, so what’s it to you?
The sanction of hedonists’ day in the sun
That you’d rather darken when this is what’s true:
You’re jealous to miss out on all of the fun.
~ Thanks Always Returns
Some say there's nothing poetic about blue-collar work.
I'm here to prove them wrong.
What is a poem?
For one, it has rhythm.
"Well, where's the rhythm
in a discordant jumble of a thousand tools
all clamoring for dominance over my ears?"
It's smack-dab in the middle -
where you hear clanging and banging,
I hear the smooth, even strokes
of a well-swung hammer.
Where you hear chopping and whirring,
I hear the harmony
of a saw producing a masterpiece.
What else constitutes poetic achievement?
Diction and language.
"Well, sure, there's all kinds of
colorful language among those types -
not the kind of language I meant!"
To that, I say, read my musings,
hear my words and see
if you can say without lie
that there's no fine vocabulary present.
A coarse man in the company of other similar types,
one may come home
and show his refined and eloquent side.
What is a poem?
One more thing it has is sometimes rhyme.
"What, now you're going
to come right out and say
that you all speak in rhyme?
You must be joking."
To which I reply,
look me in the eye,
and see if you detect any jest;
For those of us down, in the mud and the dirt,
may look the sort to be simple and curt;
But we can sure rhyme with the best.
What do the poetic greats have?
A mastery of their form.
"Well, here, in this final point
has got to be my clincher;
There's no way you guys
are spitting out haiku and so on."
To this I say that here
lies the winning facet of my argument, not yours -
for you need look no further than the piece before you;
Two lines to start, four groups of a dozen,
and two at the end -
I dare say that that is indeed some kind of form.
One more job done, another task complete -
this humble poem of frustration and explanation.
Come... we are wet clothes
clung to bodies clung to storm
where the rain falls up.
Crazy lady with model outfits – what now? You’ll see in a moment *hint* she’s a taker, not a giver ~!
Hah! She’s straight-out self-confident – I must laugh my pants off! What does she have to be confident about? Her eye-contacts? The spells she casts on guys? Her whorish appearances and girly, spunky appeals? Her taste in clothing? Her taste in music (pop, rap, R & B, and all that jazz - all that Miley Cyrus, P!nk, Kelly Clarkson and Britney Spears songs)? Her skinny, perfect-looking body? Her deceiving looks or plump lips? Her many jewelry? Her makeup collection? Her wigs (she's faaake)? Her so-called "engaged" rings? Her fame? The way she dresses? Her reputation? Her pride (resulting to poverty without dough in her wallet)? Her fortune? So what…woman!
Ah...these evil streaks of Arrogance fulfills her heart of fleeting fame, her inner lusts and avaricious wants
Rage towards her little sister, Faith – the good apple of the bunch (spoiler alert)…the heart’s envy’s deceitful and she’s bound to have shame instead of success on a very high level…she’s charmed by her own bondage…her filthy, meaningless sins that she foolishly commits and feels nothing close to remorse…but what’s worse is that she feels accomplished when she does so, despite the appalling effects of it and she feels superior compared to everyone else, making everyone’s life miserable and feeding on other’s joy and claims it as her own heartlessly . . . (she’s very picky and horrid to be quite frank!)
I think she’s pathetic that she thinks she’s better than everyone else and thinks she’s on top of the world…not looking after her other sisters – she’s the oldest and the most immature of them all…what a pity…she doesn’t care what her rude comments does to others; she treats others with garbage and treats herself like a precious, wealthy princess in a royal, black and white checkered castle
There…I said it! You’re consuming the dirt instead of the truth, burying the lies and reveals the light in everything! It can explain what really happened in our history and in every individual history! Don’t test the truth by uttering those sickening lies. You stink with dishonesty and you like the flavors of fraudulence and your dreams you dream every night doesn’t capture the bigger picture…have a better frame of mind and don’t be polluting me with latest gossips and inconsiderate remarks!
Yeah – your kind, shy, but wild-child-of-a-niece needs to build good character – you have produced rotting, yet sophisticating and prideful fruit! Ew! She don’t need to wear those expensive, showy outfits you hand her grudgingly, but smirking with repellent pleasure! Wear your own swanky, kinky attires – stop being bitter and be a bit sweeter, please? Pretty prelease?
I put a Halloween mask on my dog. She rolled over in her sleep, but just kept on sleeping when she landed in the windowsill. What Battlefield really needs
IamA Robert Beltran, aka Commander Chakotay from Star Trek: Voyager, and now all yours. AMA! Cats love lasers US/Russia relations Pete Holmes on why he's always laughing. The man has a point. What, in your opinion, is the greatest thing humanity has ever accomplished? Flogging Molly -- If I Ever Leave This World Alive [Irish Folk Punk] Through the eye of a needle Gun safety is important Wrecked cruise ship with a tilted Earth ...
* Note - cut-up technique -Random headlines from reddit news 3/5/2014
Maybe I'll get an iPhone for my birthday
Ah...on the other hand, I'd like to get an iced coffee
Yeah - I'll just accept my water
Be honest, David - I'm a brat and a smarty pants
Enjoy your break time and kick back...chill for a time ...
I'm a little nervous - I feel that my writing's are
Not that impressive - maybe in May,
May I ask him for a free lemonade?
And yes - I get a free lemonade
Yes!! Maybe in May, I might get a part-time job or I might be a famous poet - someday...someday...
What is that thing called that used to fit a 45 record in its center hole?
I’m sure I used to know what it was called but old age has taken its’ toll.
They looked like a tornado that fit the spindle and they had three arms,
With it you could play a 45 record but the name isn’t setting off alarms.
I’ve asked around but no one my age can remember the name,
Spreader, spindle slider, spider to us they’re all the same.
We all remember using them and owing the little clipper a lot,
But a memory of the name of the thing it seems that we have not.
Without one in the center of your record your party would be sunk,
Your record would get off kilter then your band would sound like they were drunk.
I asked a woman I know who is still young enough to have kept her memory,
But to know of such a devise you have to be at least a 45 and she’s only a 33.
YOU ARE NEXT!
Wedding coat finery
covering my wretched dismay.
After pinching cheeks
aunties would always say,
“You are next!”
as if saying made it so.
Countless times it happened
no matter how often I said no.
Until I discovered how to stop it
using this little ironic gem;
now when I see them at family funerals
I started saying it to them!
I WRITE MY NAME IN FULL
IT WOULD APPEAR
POMPOUS AND PRETENTIOUS
TO DO SO
FOR THEN WHEN YOUNG
MY NAME IN PRINT
RUDOLPH JON RINALDI
HAD THE SYMMETRY AND POWER
Of A NEW SHINNY AIRPLANE PROPELLER PROP
BUT THAT WAS THEN
WHEN I WAS YOUNG
AND NOW IN AGE
THE BEAUTY AND SOLIDITY
OF AN OLD ASS
one's up other down
red pink grey colored petals
two small bows' mouth lips
Whew! Here Goes One,
Parked At My Rectum,
Its Warm, Its Deadly,
I Can Feel My Face Sweat- Silently,
Oh What A Task,
No Excuses, As I Must-
Sensitively Reckoning The Force It Amass
With This Feeling Of Crystal Glass,
‘Its A Shame
Having No Younger Soul To Blame,
Oh Self Negligence,
Such Is A Public Offense,
I Wish Nostrils Had Alarm Drills,
To Warn Them Of This Air Borne Thrills,
Defenseless As I Sit Here Transparent,
I Wonder, Why Am I So Apparent?
Though, They Heard The Wind Whistle,
Twas Ominous, Sounds Of My Concealed Pestle,
Beating Polluted Air In My Pants,
Echoes And Bubbly Chants,
There Goes One Invisible,
Should I Go, Or Should I Try The Impossible,
Deny My Crime Inevitably,
Maybe, No One Knows- So Why Speak Unnecessarily?
-Dharga Nagar Safa
W H,in why?,
The Saga of dusty roads of Utah
(To the memory of Don W. Esplin, father of Kathryn Esplin-Oleski)
There he was playing with some mild explosives,
in his own backyard, a resolute boy he is;
the June month had swelled like the taut belly of
a neighborhood lady; the boy wanted to be
a scientist which he became. He, of course could not
envision that all these sepia dust of Utah,
the noon backyard and a young scientist’s narrative
would be remembered by his explosive daughter
and a strange Indian was going to pen a saga.
Alfred Nobel was smiling from a page of a book
The boy rolled a cigarette, the smoke’s curlicues
swirl up to grain the picture. A blast almost choked
the bright blue jays and robins. Defused sun slanted.
The end of the road was just an end of the road
where sun could meet earth, warm grass shook off the heat
and the covert window of the farm house would yield
a father and son talk. Strong argument on
future, on an university, on money
on a world that could differ in generations;
of course the boy, as a father, understood
his girl, then living apart. But distance is in heart.
He would grow up midst dreams. A quirky wind would blow him
here and there; navy, marriage and science,
pharmacology and marriage again; a gust
of wind would take him on a ride that, if he could
read this he would have said, resembled his truck rides
down the roads of Utah. But at that point of time
he was wide awake inside his misty night’s sleep
and an American novel is shooting up
its multiple heads in search of fresh oxygen.
The waves of moon were enjoying a full tide.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
Stop being suggestive
With that choccy digestive
Just stick it in your gob
And pass me a hob nob
I dance to get rid
Of Migraines...to no avail
It enjoys the dance!! >:(
Amanda smiles when she walks down the street.
Amanda parades for the company she meets.
Amanda auditions when you ask her name.
Amanda Veranda is her own hall of fame.
But under the garments and jewels she wears.
She can't stop fearing the gossip she hears.
At night when she's naked and stripped of her gown
Amanda's wide grin sadly slips to a frown.
Her make up starts running her image is bare.
Her vanity's vanished because nobody's there.
She looks in the mirror and sees she must change.
Her fantasy vanity must be rearranged.
So she made herself useful and gave of herself.
And found she could finally climb down from her shelf.
She took down her trinkets and vases and gifts.
Went out and mended those trivial rifts.
She humbled herself and she found it felt good.
Did all the things that she knew that she should.
Now she’s still quite the talk of her little old town.
But it no longer gossips and puts this girl down.
They speak of her highly since she's bowed very low.
Not low in a bad way she just gave up her show.
So if you're an Amanda whose ego's to big
You'll too find it better to swing a new gig.
-Dharga Nagar Safa
Q married to U,
We're having friends for dinner on Saturday
Well we're not actually having them for dinner!
That statement implies that we're cannibalistic
And our list of friends would get thinner!
We drive on a parkway and park on a driveway
This play on words sure can confuse
If teachers taught, why don't preachers praught?
One moose, two meese, how do we choose?
Make amends always seems to be plural
Can't we make one amend I'd like to know!
One tooth, two teeth, why not one booth two beeth?
And why shouldn't you pick your seat at a show?
A slim chance and a fat chance mean the same
But a wise man and a wise guy are opposites
The weather is either hot as hell or cold as hell
I know it's confusing but don't take a fit!
This English language can be oh so confusing
It can drive you to distraction at times
But try to learn Chinese or Mandarin my friend
You'll realize the English language is divine!
©Jack Ellison 2012
Do young boys start thinking of girls
with imperfect make-up and pretty clothes
who look like Barbie in every sense of the word?
I used to look at them and laugh,
thinking they were going to a party
rather than attract the opposite sex!
That's the time when girls were a fantasy,
filling up this head with unrealistic thoughts...
to have been the handsome Prince Charming,
and offer them anything on a silver platter;
and growing up I realized how silly I was...
I had little to offer, still carrying their books to school!
Somebody should have pinched me and told me
that at such age chasing girls was a game of hide-and-seek,
or a dance around-the-rosy to sing nursery rhymes;
even my teacher loved my greasy hair with that combed-back hairdo,
tight jeans and a plain t-shirt as handsome Travolta would wear...
only made me famous for an afternoon on the dance floor!
Those were the most exciting times for a naive boy like me
charming them with that look of lover to make them fall in love with me,
it worked, but after dancing they started giggling...whispering something
that made me appreciate the ingenuity that girls had at the age of twelve;
and would it had happened today, I probably would have gotten many kisses,
remembering their smiles, but not saying, " That's the time when girls were a fantasy! "
Written by Andrew Crisci
for nette oncloud's contest,
" ...At This Age "
Breaking by the minute
A savior might change my life around
Drum rolls... .... ..... x5
VCBFJF KD R ( MY DOG WENT OUT )
Vcbfjf kd r utrn fk ejn m ddk
Kroeme soent vpv vv a s frt rtrmkrkrn
My dog went out one day
To find some kids and see them play
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Normal Note in all competitions states that
“Poems should be in English. Poems translated from other languages are not eligible, unless you wrote both the original poem and the translation.“
This poem is my own, translated by me, written by me originally in Xsfaahjim, a little known language of New Guinea, where I worked as a teacher for many years. This language is so little known that it is not even mentioned on Google. Let no one plagiarise this poem, in English or in Xsfaahjim , because I will surely know.
A little gray on the sides
A little hanging over the line
Still all in all a catch
For somebody passing by
The theory of one’s sex appeal
Disappearing over time
Just a myth and not theory
Just like a fine wine
With age there comes true beauty
Other ideas shot to hell
For men of a certain age
Can carry it very well
So, okay some parts may stiffen
While there are others that do not
Gives no right to toss aside
Giving up the game they’ve got
With each year that draws us closer
To the day of final breath
Brings a great advantage
An experience you won’t forget
Bringing all the knowledge
To the table presented there
You’ll find a man with great respect
All others will fail to compare
So remember when you’re out there
Looking for a great romance
You can find it with a man
Who has lived the world and danced
With age indeed comes knowledge
And experience, mark my word
Combine these two together
Can really rock your world
Is it fair that youth is beauty
That the best we can ever be
Is before we are twenty three
Why can't a wrinkle be sexy
Who says grey hairs are icky
Contact lenses are too tricky
Comfort and ease of eyeglasses
Tri focal eyeglasses
But why, but how, when
Did youth escape and old fogey begin
The burden of life's responsibilities
The worry of offspring indeed
The need for success
The desire to impress
That weather our smooth silky skin
Into worn leather feel rough and thin
Tooth loss and baldness
Nose hairs and body aches
Disease and numbness
Hot flashes and body shakes
Dimming of senses
Enlargement of ears
Shrinking by inches
New things are fears
Tired blood and blue veins
Forgetting whats her name
Corns and bunions
Yelling at them youngins
Jello instead of steak
Maalox replaces milkshakes
Eat dinner at four asleep by nine
Can't believe the speed of time
Is it fair that youth is beauty
Why can't being old be better
Then aches from change of weather
To using a cain instead of raising it
Gumming a steak until you can't spit
Just think how sexy you will be
If you finally reach forty three
Lets change our perspective
Not be so narrowly selective
Enough of the smooth shapely firm
Cute bouncing buns we had and yearn
Let's hear it for the pale faded
Wrinkled saggy way nature made it
Posteriors of the more mature crowd
On second thought without my glasses
Youth is beauty
Enjoy while its yours
Remember when Macklemore rapped about Thrift Shop? And all you guys thought Valu Village was the place to make a big cash drop. Well you know what? I'll tell you the honest truth: y'all are walking around in lulus with someone else's cum stains, ew!
You think it's cheap to buy a shirt for $7.99 but I'll go to Guess and get that fresh fit feel for double the dime -- shit, it's on sale. That Thrift Shop movement was just a marketing trend made to persuade you sheep to not consume quality threads and a classier attitude.
It's not what you wear that makes you who you are but your clothes show it well when you're acting like trash at the bar. I guess I'm just saying stop dressing down. Ladies look lovely and thrifty isn't that nifty. It's nasty, you're wearing other people's sex wrinkles and sweat stains. Think of all the illnesses you could gain.. Damn, that's an exaggeration but we don't need a stanky nation..
I do not know?
Close friends often speak to each other in a language of their own making that outsiders
can’t understand.. This is a look at a situation that created one such language between
me and my best friend in high school. Nothing more, nothing less.
That Damn dinosaur-
Burning the bacon, again!
Smoking up the bathroom...
Combustible toilet spread,
Hot Damn! regurgitation,
Lettuce boat, left behind...
Jelly oozing from the ceiling,
with Banana-berry holding it up
Stupid football hole...
Ta-ta-vision, laughing station,
Spewing crescent dough from nostrils,
Favored flavored burger darts?
Did I mention the Damn dinosaur?
Burning chicken wings!
Porn on the sinking hangers,
Decimated delivery guy...
Spirits, in the room (and on the table)
a shower curtain ring on plywood-
Dance to random Ouija phrases...
Ramen numerals besieging Boo-
Cat’s claws in the wall,
Curling kitty hair-do, crazy!
Smokin’ smoggies under-table,
Birdies fly out over glass?
Tapping on their tail feathers...
Where the hell is that Damn dinosaur?
I'm a Prizefighter and my name is Little Mac.
When I fight my opponents, they end up on their backs.
I defeat all of my opponents even though they're twice as tall as me.
I have to jump when I punch their faces and I drive them to their knees.
It only took one punch to knock out Glass Joe.
When I fought Super Macho Man, I won by TKO.
I punched Bald Bull in the stomach when he began to charge.
He shook the whole ring when he fell because he's so large.
As I punched King Hippo in the stomach, his trunks kept falling down.
I only had to knock him down once to beat him, he couldn't last one round.
MR. Sandman was tough and he thought he could put me to sleep.
But I gave that moron such a beating that he started to weep.
When I fought Mike Tyson, I knocked him out and I whipped him before Buster Douglas did.
Tyson was so embarrassed because I was only seventeen years old, he was beaten by a kid.
(This poem is based on the popular 1987 video game.)
Feedback comes to those who apply and post and expect to receive the same
when you place a silver dollar in your mouth you scratch it with your teeth to see if
it is real a man bites down upon it and then looks and frowns or looks and
smiles upon the quarter he has found not silver or even golden but just metal of
some kind its zinc and copper mixes made in Betty Crocker's Kitchens. She has
a tray of circles all lain out upon her divine divan the tails side up for luck she got
this from the JESUS man who tossed his penny in an arc and tried to hit a mark
a line drawn in the sand and made his feet go march to live a different plan a
lifetime being mended his only love he found she makes the things he feels
inside brand new. She stirs her better batter up with a long and spindly spatula
she marks each coin with edges with the cheese garter greater. She takes the
grater to the table and turns each coin by hand she makes four of them for every
dollar in this land. They asked her who is on the image of the coin she laughed
and dimpled smiling she said it must be Dollar Bill. The George Washington
Dollar is the image used for the quarter he gets to be on two. When yew become
the President Of America you can be their two. She stamps the quartered dollars
on the side that just says heads with the handy dandy stamper set she got from
her Uncle Jed for Christmas Past. She turns the coins at last and makes the tails
with her old eagle eye she uses her new leather set to scritch and scratch the
bird the lines formed from habit of making millions in a set in just one day she
filled the Island of Manhattan with 24 additional sets they said they needed them
to buy Manhattan again the previous treaty had run out from the statue of
limitations set back in Washington against the law must be obeyed by every
man. When eye am making a bus ride and eye find a lot of pennies eye ignore
them when eye find a quarter eye do a little more than dance in place eye jig eye
jog eye trip on every log in my haste to find three more it costs one dollar just to
Board the Tran. Betty declined to speak just to the press for she is very shy she
said she knoes now who the image is on the flip side of her coin and eye did not
keep a dry eye when she smiled at me and said without a tremor or a miss it is
Washington, D. C.
My age is getting up there
middle age is knocking on my door
They say I shouldn't worry...
I'm only thirty four.
I'm noticing the wrinkles.
I sense that double chin
is creeping right up on me.
Fight gravity?? I can't win!
I use to feel so youthful.
I thought I'd never age.
Back then I planted flowers.
Today I'm growing sage.
Sometimes I forget my own age.
It's not that I contrive.
Like when I wrote my bio here
I SAID I'M THIRTY FIVE!!
Is that a sign of old-age?
We all search for happiness
We enjoy even the thought
We hope for all things of brightness
To join us as along life's road we trod.
Just trying to reach the top
Unknowing exactly what the top is
We work hard as young adults
Just like little honey bees
We gather our goods
Putting them all into our nest.
We journey on along
Hoping we are with our final mate
Even tho somedays are diamonds
And some are stones
Just like Neil Diamond said in his song.
So what is the meaning of it all
As age creeps into our bodies
You get older and yes you become wiser
But you are also much trier now
As age has a way of doing that to you
For it is all a part of the aging picture.
When your mind as well as your body
That these things you thought were so important
Can't go with you as your final journey you do make
They are left here for someone else to look through
And to complain about what a mess you have made!
Laughing at the Fun House Mirror
By Elton Camp
Back in one’s carefree childhood day
Laughing at one’s ugly image was okay
Humped, twisted or your face contorted
Wasn’t true, but a mirror that was distorted
The visage that you saw wasn’t for real
So happy, not sad, it would make you feel
The mirror in the fun house was sure okay
Because you knew you didn’t look that way
But later, when your youth has fled away
Such distorted features have come to stay
I find it hard to actually believe what I see
Who is that old man who’s staring at me?
But there’s no need to grumble or to curse
For if you’re dead, you’d look a lot worse
So we should be thankful to still be around
Seeing our image should never make us frown
So look and chuckle without the least care
“Hey, old fellow, glad to see you still there.”
I do not know?
Why get stuck in an awful marriage forever more.
Never again will you be able to soar.
You will be able to adore.
Only you won’t adore,
But you will regret forever more.
Between freedom you’ll be torn.
In a marriage I’ll never be scorn.
It’s a curse forever worn.
I fell sorry for the ones this disease hath born.
You walk in and they all stop and stare
You walk out and they watch you leave
Because you're different
You look different
You talk different
You even stand different
And they don't like that
they don't like your courage to stand out
Your courage never to give in
You've got spice and they look bland
You shine bright and they look dull
They, are haters
Thats exactly what they are
Because you are different
With your purple and green hair
As the days become shorter and cooler,
And my age climbs a little farther up the ruler.
Life has taken on a new and wonderful meaning.
I’ve finally reached a point in life that many take to be demeaning
I am an official member of the Old Timers Club,
It’s an elite and prestigious hub.
There is just one rule to join in this niche,
You have to be as old as a rock and still able to scratch your own itch.
No dues are charged we just gossip a lot,
About what’s wrong with so and so and the ailments we’ve got.
How many medications you’re on or what new thing the doctors have removed,
And what side effects they have and whether they’re F.D.A. approved.
Sometimes we reminisce about family till someone starts to cry.
Then we just sit there rocking thinking on days gone by.
There is one true saying, if you live long enough you too will grow old.
So far it’s not a crime but they’re working on that I’ve been told.
This exclusive club is known for its heartache and pain,
But a lot of love is shown as long as you remain.
It’s something we’ve earned and we have the scars to show.
That growing old is not always the best way to go.
As long as we’re able to gather or talk,
And know that some one still cares whether we can stand and walk.
I guess maybe it’s support this thing we seek.
Cause growing old alone truly makes life reek.
I think loneliness is the worse fear of all,
Just waiting out your days and longing for somebody to come by or even just
The young act like old age is a contagious disease,
They might catch it if you happen to sneeze.
I remember when depends was a state of mind,
Not something you wore around your old behind.
With that little thought I think I’ll close for now.
That’s about all I think they’ll allow
I do not know?
(The only true thing about this poem is that today is my birthday.)
People are upset because it's my birthday and my age is something I haven't told.
I keep my age a secret because I'm getting pretty damn old.
My bones crackle and my false teeth keep falling out.
When I tell people that I'm a sex machine, they have serious doubts.
Is it possible that I've lost my good looks?
My doctor prescribes me more pills than Elvis took.
Last month I was in the hospital and I got fresh with a candy striper.
I might have stood a chance with her if she wasn't the one who changed my
Oh how I wish he would take care of me,
we’re not getting any younger he must see.
Ever since the day he learned to walk and run,
we’ve gone to great lengths to have fun.
Early on at the young age of three,
he was climbing and fell out of a tree.
Rushed to the hospital to access the harm,
luckily it was only a broken arm.
Then at the age of only six,
yet another broken bone to fix.
While playing on the roof so high,
he slid off to meet the ground hard and dry.
The result was not one but two broken feet,
so having to use crutches was quite a treat.
Because getting around was no longer something of ease,
he couldn’t go as he would please.
Then while playing ball at the age of eight,
received a broken nose while at the plate.
Several broken bones and many bruises later,
he has become a sports spectator.
The safety of the sideline is where he needs to be,
so that he can take care of me.
What the hey??
I'M TURNING GREY
please be kind
AND LOCK AWAY
Dorito chips and Pringles too
MY GUT REVEALS and so do you!!
Jello gelatin for my waist
ADVENT AGE to embrace
Who can fight these times,today?
UNFLATTERING HIPS prepare the way
Getting to be an ugly guy
OLD AGE wrinkles and THEN WE DIE!
Trying hard to correct my bladder
KEEP GETTING FATTER AND FATTER!!
No longer can I reach my toes
It's what I fear
MY ADVANCING WOES!!
Cookies are a favorite treat
Hot Dog Weenies just can't be beat
This old man now ends his rap
Beg your pardon
WHILE I GO TAKE A CRAP!!