~Moon & Sea~
Hey boy won't you open that door?
Let's sing and walk by the shore
Come and spread out your eyes
Block looking for reasons, and whys?
The cosmos are more than a space to explore
Don't hide when I need.... Plus more.
Finish playing a master in disguise!
Lets find the perfect sunrise, sunset surprise.
Put your arms around me
Allow your moon to reflect off my sea
Too much time has passed you by
Come outside with and view the horizon up high
I've got my eyes set upon you
There's no need to feel blue
Hey boy comes, climb up this tree!
I'm going to show you all the things you can't touch, you can't see.
Lets fit the luxury and beauty of this world into our play.
Don't say them words that will set me free to walk away.
Take this kiss and see how it feel deep within your heart.
Close your eyes in my garden, and draw with the fragrance of art
I want to take you into that space, astronomy love.
Making it easy to float with the clouds way up above.
Glide away from the blame of gravity and self destruct.
Bounce of the dust of hurt when you fall and get cut.
Boy, let's hold in this perfect air together.
Leave the cold end of someone else's weather.
Follow me beyond the distance of chemistry.
I will expose your moon and explain the physics of my sea.
Give it another chance and you will see!
Your moon, is skin deep, needing water from me.
Turn on the tune in your heart, and listen to me.
In every sunrise, the moon entwines with the sea.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011
Orange is more appreciated by the tongue that tastes lime
to do so, if not now, when would be the time?
Senses and instincts are the same to all gender
deaf ears are given to morality sender.
So much energy seizes from the heart its license
exhibiting any act irrespective of sense.
The road to harm and danger is direct
to such travels, curiosity stands erect.
Every bad move has an allocated score
a rotten seed spreads its allergic spore.
Hate the rules, damn the instructions
utilizing body parts to their full functions.
Following the media and not wanting to be left behind
slippery rocks and rusting metals placed around the mind.
In the room of so much entertainment, bodies lay
hoping the pleasure will be long and will stay.
Drugs, sex, alcohol and violence all giving this shade
time passes, leaving the young heart the need of an aid.
Habits learned and adopted to make or to go astray
when maturity sinks in, the wise simply walks away
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
Way back in the woods all nestled away
I found the place where Leprechauns play
To find the place I had to first find the door
Keeping it hidden is what the Waterfall is for
Behind the falls there lies a mystical cave
To scale the cliff one must be very brave
As you enter the cave these words are true
The most magical of places is waiting for you
The cave is not dark in fact it’s rather bright
For thousands of crystals are beaming with light
As you pass through the cave it is so clear to see
There are places on earth where men shouldn’t be
As I stepped out of the cave on the other side
My own amazement I could never hide
There were waterfalls, Rainbows & Butterflies galore
I felt as though I had stepped through Heavens door
As I took to the path it suddenly occurred to me
This path is made out of gold, as gold as could be
I looked at a tree stump and got lost in the spell
For the sign in front said, “The Leprechaun Hotel”
A hundred tiny windows were all beaming with light
For the sun had just dropped, dropped clean out of sight
A whole world had lit up right before me
Mushrooms were homes for Fairies you see
Sometimes in life we embrace the magic of a spell
Mystical creatures in heaven, far as my eyes could tell
The fairies were tiny angels that lit up the night
I’ve never seen anything so beautiful and bright
Then all at once a feeling took over my soul
And I truly felt that it was time I should go
As I turned to leave I heard a Leprechaun say
From all of this gold you’ll just walk away
The fairy said, “One wish is granted to you”
“Make any wish you like and it will come true”
I explained how wealth was once all that I sought
And my dreams and wishes were already bought
You see God sent an Angel who planted a seed
That sprouted our love, which is all that I need
Inspired by a wall painting at my Dentist office
and written for my wife.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2008
A ship is safe in the harbor,
But that's not what ships are built for.
Because in the sum of our human gleams,
We have created the vessel for our dreams.
Its purpose: to retrieve the alien shore,
To scout, seek, achieve and explore.
A ship is meant to fly and fly,
To seize the horizon and capture the sky.
And the few of us with the intrepidity,
To brave the virulent vortex velocity
We are the wealthiest of men ever to dream
And ever to combat a sea or a stream.
And the harbored ships that fritter away,
Slowly begin to rot and decay.
Never has there been a greater waste of a day,
Than that spent harbored,
Than those of us who stay.
Copyright © Gael Attal | Year Posted 2009
HORSE FROM MARS
It came from the sky, a gray silver stallion.
I looked up high, and I have also seen a dragon.
With so many things in this universe.
I'm on stand-by with a camera in my purse.
Who would have known I'd be the first to spot a PEGASUS.
The town folks wave hi every time I walk my hippopotamus.
I enjoy showing everyone, my pictures of a flying horse.
I don't see why they call a DOCTOR every time I call the TASK FORCE
I think they are jealous over all the things I've seen.
They act all crazy since I sighted a LEPRECHAUN when I was fourteen.
No one ever believed me when I saw an army of dragonflies.
They have a name for me "the boy who See's too much in the skies!"
I don't know why they can't see what I see.
For all I know they are all experiments under Alien Technology.
They don't believe me how I got this magic MEDALLION.
It was a friendly gift from the silver stallion.
I also have many pictures of a UNICORN.
We became best-friends when he gave me a piece of its magic horn.
We sat together while he drank from the lake.
We enjoyed talking, --talking about how U.F.O.'s are fake.
Why can't they see? The day I fell off a boat, I got rescued by a MERMAID!
Who would have known a mermaid swim around with first-aid.
I also remember the day I followed a LEPRECHAUNS.
We were playing under the rainbow having so much fun.
When I told my doctor about all the things I've seen.
He locked me in a DUNGEON, thinking I was the ALIEN QUEEN.
I begged and I told him I don't believe in any type of alien.
Too bad the master of this dungeon came from another region.
In a way he looks like that one SILVER STALLION from Mars.
The first creature I'd seen the day I fell off the monkey bars.
I have this picture of this horse of course.
JUST help me out of this white-jacket!!! ;-)
If you want to see the coolest picture of a flying horse.
(A small collaboration with: B-Boy)
re-post for ~FUNNY CONTEST
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011
"The Arabian Nights"
Underneath the oceans veil.
A mystery lies within.
Beyond Orion's belt, I shift my mind to sail.
Within, every constellation hides secrets of sin.
Allowing me, to the time frame the world of yesterday.
I found portals with no way out.
Covering every bruise that my body had on display.
Drawing along the mist of no doubt!
I tie eternity into loopholes with no ending.
Singing a song that lacks the strength to be strong.
Trying hard to swallow words that have no ending.
Babbling at my tongue, when one's heart is wrong.
I hide in the light, away from the darker mist.
A sprint sensation lurking down-under.
Anthologies wrote only to exist.
A place that strikes louder than thunder.
Eyes that port and slow everything down.
Mysteries behind, a deadly desert storm.
Slaving under the 3rd crown.
Candlelight's guiding a new wedding form.
Executed in a thousand tales, of romance.
Knocking at my door ending another dream.
A sensual marriage with regrets, and loss of chance.
Dancing streams with no means.
Avalon, closing over an Arabic Night.
A story cradling me in bed.
By morning dawn, I will no longer see the light.
Waking up to another Arabian Night.
NOTE~ I read the book 5 years ago.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011
We let down the top to soak in the sun
Now that the harshness of winter is done
As you let back the seat and put your feet on the dash
Saying, “keep your eyes on the road I don’t want to crash”
I truly must admit that I’m torn completely in two
The coast has its beauty, then again so do you
As the beauty of the Sun is absorbed by your skin
Like a kid at the candy store I simply want to dig in
If life is a candy store sweetheart you are the treat
All the other candy I tasted, never tasted so sweet
The reason I love summer is because of the heat
The skimpier the bikini, the greater the treat
I can’t begin to express how wonderful you are
Saying, “hey take a look at her I’ll steer the car”
At first I truly had no idea what I should say?
Though now it’s, “ok sweetheart, have it your way”
I think that is because you know these words are true
I may take look at her but I shall forever belong to you
Summer is a time that is as bright as the sun
Out goes the cold as it’s replaced by the fun
We have our barbecues and sit under the stars
Let down the tops and go for rides in our cars
Go tend to our gardens in farmer John clothes
Truly amazed at how fast everything grows
Go hang out at the river as well as the lake
Cover ourselves in oil than let our skin bake
Embrace the moments because these words are true
The days last much longer and the sky is so blue
The dog days of summer I reckon that’s so
We bark and howl at folk we don’t even know
If life is banquet then summer is the feast
I think we should gobble it up, to say the least
Written for john's Summer contest.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
Do I choose to join, this Poetic Dance
To reveal my soul, to take this chance
I am left to wonder, who will care
If my life is charmed, or full of despair
I release my emotions, to the page
The good the sad, the parts with rage
The pen gets started, revealing each part
A stitched together, healed broken heart
Like many a writer, I am a bleeder
Revealing my secrets, to you the reader
My only hope, is that you have time
To see yourself, in the words I rhyme
Because without you, there is no dance
You are the reason, I take this chance
A dance with a stranger, one two three
Perhaps at the end, you will know me
I'm glad I chose to join you in Poetic dance
Thank you for giving my clumsy a chance
No longer will I wonder if you truly care
You share your beauty and masterful flare
Together we do our Rumba on a spotless page
For the textured surface is inspiration's stage
As we move in unison I feel your wonderous heart
Thanks for being at one with me within our art
We move together lost in rhyme and meter
Not wanting to leave anything from our reader
If they explore long enough perhaps within time
We will all be joined in this dance so sublime
Yes it can be scary taking a chance
Yet what would life be without the dance
No longer stranger, ink drips one two three
By knowing you, I have come to know me!
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
Some lives are like a stone quickly skipping over the ponds top, forever tossed.
My life is below the surface trying to reach upward with each breathe lost.
But there is still beauty, deep down here in the great depths below…
For the solitude holds me in its grip as I dwell with what I know.
My occasional trips to the surface leave me vastly wanting more…
Still, my life below the surface doesn’t scare me as it did, once before.
And the breaths will come when given, as my life continues to flow.
True it is dark but beauty lingers, everywhere the currents move below.
At times, the surface reflections seem surreal, as if it’s a place not to go.
Comfort comes more and more to my soul, as the deeper I glide below.
Here I dwell within myself, with words, and thoughts, that carry me along.
Perhaps I have found where I truly belong, as I sing my siren songs.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
(The Egyptian Funerary Rite)
For seventy days I’ve been prepared
With oils and unguents ever so rare
And with linen bandages to and fro
Wound and wrapped from head to toe
And on this journey I’m prepared to start
By enduring the “Weighing of the Heart”
With Toth’s oversight we’ll see whether
My heart weighs true against Truth’s feather
Should it fall short the beast will devour
My soul to oblivion in my final hour
Yet should it measure straight and true
The Pylon opened I’ll be ushered through
And then I shall fall unto my knees
And pray that Osirus hears my pleas
That he acknowledge and clear my tears
And accept my soul for a thousand years
And cleanse said soul of all its scars
And make me one with the canopy of stars
And bless my children and my wife
That they may join me in the afterlife
Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2010
(Bill's 62 Ford Pickup)
She was very old, but she was quite grand,
she'd climb any hill, plough right thru sand.
She was loud enough to make your ears ring,
yet passing those hot rods made your heart sing.
She rattled like a chain, her beauty was gone,
upholstery was shot, we laid a towel on.
When she came to us, headed for the dump,
with her floor rotted through, rust on her rump;
Mel said "I'm through with her, take her if you want,
but you'll need to 'fix her up' she's begging for paint."
So we traded services, and chose the color blue;
Bill wired Rich's body shop, so we could use it too.
We patched all her holes, bought out the parts store,
gave her a hi-speed rear end, restored her 4-on-the-floor.
Her new body was sleek, cab and bed all one piece,
many people stopped to beg, "Sell her to me, please!"
High-rise manifold and cam, new brake system and clutch,
260 C.I. V-Eight engine, 4-barrel carburetor, dual exhaust.
Hounding those salvage yards took quite a toll,
but at sixty-five R. P. M. , she could really roll.
She took us back and forth, as we built our new abode,
lived up to every task, hauled many a heavy load.
We didn't throw her away when her job for us was done;
we sold her to a farm girl, who's taking her for a wild run.
We reminiscence about her as we rest in our new home,
we often miss the old girl, now that she's truly gone.
We wish someone could take us and do the same good turn,
give us a brand new chassis with energy to burn.
We'd like to join our old Ford, being restored now and again,
to our original beauty, with a souped-up power plan.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
Waves crash with word from Scotland
Warblers answer with yawning skies
Rocks washed up from last night's storm
Blaspheme glory, fought for Rome
Pushcarts filled with bravery tell
Of battles waged, regret for sale
Winter scoured laws they passed
Before the titles pressed in clay
Gulls enjoyed a calm sea float
While Ravens spoke in lightning bolts
Far out to sea, inside my mind
Lilies dance and pour red wine
I'll pay two- pence if you will sell
That spruce bough's dream
The Vikings tell
When I look out, upon this earth
I see a land, that smiles with mirth
And when she smiles, back at me
I'll know my dreams
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2013
All the little bunnies were lined up for a race. Why, you may ask?
Because the dear old Leader Bunny was stepping down with grace.
He had led the others for years without disgrace, in all pursuits.
He was their advisor, friend, and confidant... solver of disputes.
Such a lofty position was dearly sought by all…from all around.
But he could pick only one to wear that lofty, wonderful crown.
So a race was determined to quickly resolve, the question therein.
And a lovely little laurel crown was offered, to the one who did win.
Now many strategies to win emerged from within the race.
The most common was the notion to set the fastest pace…
A few would use tricks that might hurt, in order to slow others down.
A few were mean, for they wanted the power that comes with the crown.
Two were clever and would catapult each other at the very end.
A few just practiced running to gain the added stamina needed to win.
Only one little rabbit found shoes for the poor, for it was a rocky trail.
And when the race began he helped those hurt in the prevail.
Now the dear old leader had never actually worn a laurel crown.
His had been symbolic; his works had brought him his renown.
When the Leader Bunny gave the laurel crown to he who won the race…
Only a few were surprised, when the little helper won the Leader’s grace…
Though some would go on to complain because he had come in last…
It truly takes someone who knows how to serve, to lead and guide the rest.
But my moral to this story is that…. Regardless what some may think…
It takes compassion to correctly lead…and sometimes the last can be the best…
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
# oi KING Mandalay
Influence by the element of air,
You had me at love’s first stare.
Ruled by the element of your water,
Emotions no one can slaughter.
You call upon me like a charmer,
Awaken me out of my outer body armor.
A cobra memorized by your romance,
With a trance of my belly snake dance,
I love your built confidence,
Flirtatiously lost in a hypnotic trance.
Sending a kiss to your sensitive toy,
One day you will be my silly boy.
Your dots fill up my sensual desire,
My passion adds burn to your fire.
I will add water to your thirst.
Motivate me; energize me, until I burst.
While the moon changes your mood,
Your key turns on my womanly jewels of nude.
All my emotions are out of control,
You roll me with the sweet dice of your soul.
A deep erotic ritual to feed the need.
Wanting more arousing the power of my greed.
I will aimlessly satisfy your pleasure of lust,
A loving environment absorbing the devils exotic dust.
Symbolizing our emotions and likes on the same level,
Your Cancer sign comes all twisted like a Tasmania devil.
Influencing the justice with my right hand muffet,
My Libra sign set on two strings like a puppet.
I will shove the love in to everything we speak of,
Secure my bloom with the wings of a dove.
Spoil me with your pride, and charisma of your heart,
Fantasize the beauty of the nature of our art.
Longing your slight touch with a hint of aggressive,
Around you I bury myself in the world of imaginative.
Your sign and element your gift thrives on me.
I exchange the feelings only you see.
Observe me; connect me, until you got my balance,
Have me, love me, and give me all your romance.
All though your ego gets in the way of truth.
My sweet love;-) you are still the one I choose.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
I really wanted, a refreshing day
Thinking to myself, what was the best way
First some cold water, I splashed on my face
Evidence of sleep, vanished without a trace
I felt my pores shrink, my eyes came awake
Brrr I was so cold, I started to shake
Perhaps a warm shower, was the answer for me
I ran the hot water but needed to pee
Off to the toilet as the water ran hot
Not so refreshing, it burned quite alot
Jumping from the shower, I slipped and hit my head
Things had started out well, but I ended up dead
Before I knew it, I stood at Heaven's gate
Better to show up early than to get there too late
I was handed a mint, it seems I had bad breath
One of the side effects, of succumbing to death
Minty and refreshing, it gave me a glow
As the gates opened I went with the flow
I was quite curious, wondered what I'd see
There the tree of life, right in front of me
I walked towards it, reached up for some fruit
Soft music was playing, I think a Pan Flute
As I began to bite, a voice told me to stop
Being quite startled, I let the fruit drop
Saint Peter asked me, "How did you end up here?"
my knees started knocking, I was overcome with fear
Was I bound for Hell, I truly hoped not
I prefer refreshing and Hell is quite hot
Saint Peter was laughing, there had been a mistake
I wasn't bound for Hell, or a fiery lake
It seems I'd been taken, way before my years
I felt so refresed as I shed thankful tears
My body was gone, I needed one new
He promised me one, with no teeth to chew
So down through the clouds, placed into a womb
So warm and cozy, not cold like a tomb
All of my memories, firmly in tact
Until my birthday, when I felt a smack
All thoughts and memory, vanish without a trace
Refreshing new love, found in my mother's face
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
Spending three full days and two nights at sea
Is surely the best vacation for me
Conch chowder dinner the night before
At dawn adieu to the Key West shore
Round-trip journey to Dry Tortugas
Swordfish are known to put up a fuss
It could take four hours just to reel in
Set the reel on drag and watch it spin
Some folks say it’s the thrill of the catch
There’s so much fun in the sparring match
A battle between woman and fish
Three-hundred-pound prey, no better dish
The best reward comes at dinnertime
Succulent fare in sauce made of lime
Some can’t relate and I understand
But fresh-caught fish is better than canned
From the Gulf Stream straight to the table
This adventure requires no fable
Working out with weights ‘fore I embark
Knowing swordfish are no easy mark
Snorkeling too at Tortuga reef
Expectations are beyond belief
My idea of a perfect vacation is slated for May 30 to June 1. Entry for Carol
Brown’s “It’s Time for a Vacation” contest.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
< Cascading lakes and streams
The loon stands out it seems
Minnesota's state bird
I know it must sound absurd
Adopted in nineteen sixty one
Wails and yodels heard under the sun
Black and white bearing red eyes
Wingspans five feet can make one cry
Body lengths up to three feet
Yet clumsy on lands and moss peat
They are high speed flyers
And great underwater divers
They can dive up to ninety feet
In pursuit of fish they want to eat
They are even on our license plates
An critical habitat drawn on metal slates
Twelve thousand of these unique birds
God that has to be a lot of turds
But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues
Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2010
I opened up my cupboard door and then I opened wider,
Dwelling cozily inside, a most humongous spider.
I do not kill a spider, that’s against this gardener’s rule,
But I don’t pick up a spider, I am truly not a fool.
I closed the cupboard saying, “I’ll wait with you to deal
For tomorrow or the next day, depending how I feel.”
I went to work next morning without removing arachnoid.
I don’t know if I forgot or just was trying to avoid.
For in truth I don’t like spiders though she is a gardener’s friend,
But I’ll defend her right to live her span, right to the very end.
All day I mulled my problem, how I’d trap her and release her.
I knew I must be careful, if I was clumsy I’d decease her.
That evening I looked for her, but she wasn’t where she’d been,
And to me an unseen spider is much worse than one that’s seen.
Then my darling son informed he’d been looking for a cookie
And had found the big old spider hiding in its little nookie.
He remembered what I taught him, that a spider is our friend.
He had carried her to the garden, the rest of her life to spend.
Written May 26, 2003
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2013
The days draw ever closer with my imminent need to leave
With promises to keep and goals to achieve
My ultimate desire is to disappear
But mighty are the binds that keep me here
And so I sat down to write a song
About this place where I could belong
My nirvana, my world and art
Where every little craze tickles my heart
I wish upon a star that is too far
Hoping for a yearn that makes me churn
For this I will strive night and day
To find this place, so I pray
CONTEST: Your favorite poem
~By Carol Eastman~
*awarded 1st place*
Copyright © Wilfred Aniagyei | Year Posted 2013
Outside so cold
Let Winters story unfold
The lake now ice
A fire out back, so nice
As the blizzard sets in
A snowball fight will separate the boys from the men
A snowman emerges from hard work
A little boy knocks it over, what a jerk
A snow day for school
All the kids think it's cool
Shovel the snow from the porch
The intense cold can scorch
Go back inside
From the cold, run and hide
Copyright © Matthan Atherton | Year Posted 2009
Wake up! It's past ten in the morn!
Didn't you hear me honking my HORN?
Remember? It's October seven!
You forgot? God lord up in heaven!
Yes it's true, my fanciful dame
I'm that steed of mythical fame
Your wishes shall be my command
So may I have the pleasure, Madame?
You didn't know that Unicorns fly?
Oh yeah! We can streak through the sky!
Be prepared for a dazzling flight
'Cause I travel at the speed of light
Got a nice little flat on the moon
(No sweat, I got plenty of room)
We'll fly first to Venus, then Mars
Then I'll take you to visit the stars
Don't rub your eyes, I am real, PD
I exist just because you believe
C'mon! Time's-a-wastin' you know
Are you ready? Hop on! Here we go!...
By: Tim Ryerson
Dedicated to PD in honor of her birthday
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2012
Driving down the twisting road
Into the night, the twilight abode
We twist and turn and up we go
Our destination, we cannot know
Just hold it in, we are so close
Adrenaline pumps like an overdose
The headlight glows on white quaking trees
And a slow, chill ripple felt in the breeze
Hold on tight, for this long dark ride
I'll hold you close, and be by your side
Together we will sleep under the moon
The night duration ends, all too soon
Take my heart let the world see
That only for you, my heart will be.
Copyright © Jordan Dickinson | Year Posted 2012
THE MUSHERS RIDE OUT
Air colder than the heart of death
Surrounds the champion teams
And crystals dance twixt every breath
To paint this Arctic dream
Critics who think these dogs coerced
To run in mighty races
Need only bask upon the sight
Of eager canine faces
Commands are sharp , mistakes are few
The lead dog thinks for all
And like a whisper wrapped in wind
He hears the mushers call
No whips or sticks strike dogs who lead
It’s months and years together
The musher and his dog who leads
Are minds that think together
As mushers wait and dogs stand tall
All eager to be gone
The darkness lurks beyond the lights
And in a shot they’re gone
Well-wishers line the barren streets
Where winds are arctic whips
While satellites will flash the sight
From warmth the newsmen quip—
Fools of Tourists dressed all wrong
will scoff at cold life dangers
These careless tourists wander off
At risk to rescue rangers
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012
"Poetry Souper Heroes: The Sequel"
by: Eric L. Boddie
As we last saw, Anita Sharma was coming in
What's that Melody Thomas, I had to ask my friend
It's called Falling Raindrops, Kim Patrice Nunez is the singer
By German composer Kim van Breda, rumor has it she's a swinger
She lives on Lin Lane in the house where there is a Mystic Rose
Tom was a country boy, but Laura? Urbaniak I suppose
Becca Teagan walked by as we heard the sound of a gun
She then fell to the ground, oh my, what has Cherl Dunn
Soon after, officers Ian Guyler and Connie Marcum Wong pull up as the scene diminishes
All we could tell them was these are simply the Remnants Of Some Silly Experiences
She lost her job as a teacher because she told the kids, on every Paige, Reed for yourself
But when the principal fired her, who would have thought she would have taken her last breath
This was all too disturbing, Andrea Dietrich said let's go to the dance
But when we got inside all it said was Charmaine Chircop vs Casarah Nance
I said where is the dance, she said welcome to the mud fight
There's a family tag team handicap main event, Terry and Chante Reeves vs Sophiya Kamil tonight
I said will this degradation of women ever cease
And that's when Robert Stoner Jr. told Stella, "Fullard is slang for obese"
That's when Kelly Deschler came in, armed to the t, and said the violence is about to increase....
to be continued....
Copyright © eric boddie | Year Posted 2015
In for a penny, in for a pound
money makes the world go round.
“Baksheesh, pretty lady, Cleopatra eyes?”
foreign intrigue in a bantering guise.
“What do you want, My Queen?”
“Just for you, right here, behind the screen.”
One dollar, five pounds, the world goes round
in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Oh my beauty, please stay, please.
Come, come here, to my shop, stay for tea?”
“No hassle, so honest, nice things abound!”
Money, not love, makes the world go round.
*Baksheesh means a TIP in arabic.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
In God's own ink
with bloody hands,
he writes his life away.
yet he's free
to have his final say.
Dark and dank,
his tiny cell
becomes a living tome,
to tell a tale of villainy,
and of home.
His maiden fair
returned his love
with evil and deceit.
She led him here into a trap
his enemy to meet.
she saved him
from an end
a death both quick and sure.
She left him in this dungeon dark
forever to endure
of her false heart
and one who stole it all.
He tells it all right from the start
it flows upon the wall,
and when his bright red ink runs dry
the angels come to read.
He falls upon the stones to die
with no words left to bleed.
Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006
NOT JUST ANY SUNSET
This lunar sunset was what he’d most miss -
They always said death was like this :
Slo-mo and black-and-white
Like an old movie trite.
It had happened to him twice before : then
At rush hour on the G15 highway outside Shenzhen (1)
In his new red car when he was twenty;
And again on the pad at Dongfeng launch facility - (2)
An accidental fire in the cabin and abort
When the oxygen supply fell short.
The sun had glared at him all day from the black night
Familiar stars visible, coloured bright.
He ran through his old lectures in his head
The cool ones - yellow orange, red,
The hot ones which stare and emblazon,
As everything slips slowly down to the western horizon.
No loss of heat from sun, but shadows lengthening now,
Black, black, lengthening inky shadow.
His pen wrote fast across his paper notepad deformed
But the inky marks now in Pudonghua formed (3)
As his English slipped away.
He’d been here so long . . . . a month? A day?
Day is 15 earth days, night is 15 nights
And sunset lasts a whole earth day bright
Moon was full, his earth was darkened, like night.
A blue watery ball with edges of light:
While the earth eclipsed the sun
A red halo around his spinning home was spun.
Sun’s entry on earth’s western limb made slow
Red flares - crowns - as the solar disk slid low,
And earth’s red light bathed itself on white rocks beside,
He felt a last touch of home inside.
So unlike his own sunsets of the past
In his home in Guangzhou, seen last (4)
Over the Pearl River delta with bent light (5)
At the heavy monsoon rains’ height.
This taikonaut’s last sunset . . . . . his radio dead, (6)
His pen drops, and he slowly nods his head,
As sun’s warm arms envelope his earth fond,
And he slips his surly bonds. (7)
(1) A well-known dangerous highway in southern China
(2) Chinese equivalent to Kennedy Space Centre
(3) Pudonghua (=Chinese) is the language spoken in southern China
(4) Major mega-city in southern China, near Hong Kong
(5) Pearl River is the river on which Guangzhou stands
(6) Astronaut = cosmonaut = taikonaut
(7) This line is closely modeled on a line in “HIGH FLIGHT” by John Magee
Entered in Nancy Jones's Contest "LOSERS"
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
At the end of the rainbow
I stand in my garden looking to the sky,
The beauty of it, it just catches my eye,
Across the sky and behind the trees,
Stretching across the rivers and seas,
Down the valley, across the mountains
Streaming down like water from fountains,
I follow the path to the end where I’ll see,
Whatever the rainbow has in store for me,
I crawl to the finish I’m finally there,
But all I can see is a book and a chair,
The book tells a story, of adventure and trust,
And then when the story ends just turns to dust,
The story was mine and it was long and rough,
But the moral of the story was that life can be tough,
You just roll with the punches,
And live life by hunches,
Life is a journey like that in the book,
You learn so much like to dance and to cook,
So by the end of your days have learnt all you can,
And don’t live your life like a stage by stage plan,
Live your life one step at a time,
And I guarantee you’ll have a good time.
Copyright © Callum Fairclough | Year Posted 2016
Why; Hello Colin good morning mate
Son, there is no accent in hands of fate
Throw out the tea and chug the beer
Then I bet you find a keg in ere
Everything is a riddle once it is spoke
The tag is from you to me and then some other folk
But who should I choose, I’m here to say
So many beautiful feathers float by my way
Once while I was taking a path from here to there
When I noticed beauty beyond compare
She made me smile and she made me think
Looking at her was like taking a drink
She made me feel good and forget all the rest
I reckon that is a true poets test
The only thing I really did know
What a wonderful beautiful soul
My only complaint of her poetry was the last line
For I was hoping to have just a little more time
Talk of someone who needs no adorning
She plays a huge role in the global warming
For she has a beauty that could melt Glacier Ice
I guess everything wants to see beauty so beautifully nice
So who is the beautiful Angel that I’m speaking of?
Tag Christie Moses your it my love
Colin if I failed I apologize my head feels like it is in a vice
this morning but I wanted to respond. I will keep this poem
and then on a better day I will write a reply to you also. I
feel better guys & gals 0r guy gals & gal guys - One just
never knows anymore. At any rate God Bless you all, mj
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
Get that firm grip
Get a firm grippe
or off the planet you'lle slippe
Then you’ll find you have
Lots of space
Like a giddy Giraffe
Don’t sit there an laugh
The airs getting thin
In this place
Where do we come from where do we go?
The spirit does fly with our alter ego
The death rattle kick
An you’re out like a chick
Eggshell just falling away
In freedom you flick
To go anywhere quick
As random as any thoughts say
Ah well Dr Ram
sometimes it flows from "I am "
the fat controlller
a pulling the strings
return yet again
perhaps in Siam
to learn many things
Don Johnson...is it a couplet?
Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011