I thought I could wow them with poems from earth
Poems of joy and humor, poems extolling it’s worth
So I laid out poems from Michael, Gail, and me
From Andrea, David, Gwen, and Ilene
From PD, Harry, Mandy, and Chris
From Jack, Craig, Cyndi, and Liz…
For I was sure once they read our beautiful works
They would embrace us and love our humanly quirks!
So last night I taped them all over my skin
Knowing they’d find them if they took me again…
When I woke up, they were gone and I had a reply:
“We enjoyed reading those poems last night,
And thanks for the names of the earthlings too -
We have many more experiments to do!”
For Michael's boomerang...send your poem for a ride contest
Copyright © Black Eyed Susan
Copyright © Robin L. Gass
One more alien... an extra terrestrial. Bloody foreigners.
Copyright © Dan Keir
THE LITTLE MONSTER
It can be sweet, or very sour.
It can be your friend, or your worst enemy.
It lives inside.
Free to roam the outside.
It smiles big when it gets what it wants.
If taken away, on the floor it will stomp.
Like a magician with many tricks.
When mad it has a very loud yell.
My mom dose not let me call it.
A demon from hell.
It pulls hair, it punches, and it screams.
With this little monster,
it is best to be on its team.
This monster who around others acts like an angel.
Is really a beast in disguise.
It tricks you with hugs and kisses.
It is very clever, very wise.
Under the skin the monster hides.
So what if it’s my sister from the outside
Skat & Son
Copyright © SKAT A
Flailin’, flailin’, flailin’;
There goes my ball sailin’
Into a trap, the water or the woods.
Flailin’, flailin’, flailin’;
You can hear me wailin’,
“Why won’t that damn ball go where it should?
Drives go right. Putts go wrong.
I shank my wedges or ‘skull’em’ long.
My golf game’s just no damn good.
I’m swingin’ too hard & lookin’ up;
As if I’ll actually see it go in the cup….
As if it ever really would.
My alignment’s too far left or right.
My ball can find the only tree or trap in sight,
Even if the shot starts out lookin’ good.
These days, I carry some special tools:
A handheld weed eater with extra spools
And a pruning saw, in case I’m in the woods.
I’ve even tried to ‘buy’ a better game.
No matter. My scores were just as lame.
Those new clubs didn’t do what they should.
Bogies & doubles...even triples... are common scores.
I very rarely get pars any more.
Believe me, I’d change it if I could.
My buddies said it must be me,
A teaching pro I should go see.
They said he’d fix my game…..if anybody could.
The pro said, “Hit some balls while I watch you.
Just set up and hit’em like you normally do.
We’ll see if I can do your game any good.”
After the first bucket of balls I hit,
He calmly said, “Take two weeks off…then quit.
Take my advice. You really should.”
Now, what really has me vexed,
I’m wondering what I’ll try next.
That pro’s advice was no damn good.
So, I struggle along with my flailin’ game;
But, strangely enough, have fun just the same,
Finding hope in rare shots that are actually good.
Copyright © Robert Candler
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?
Copyright © Dan Keir
A crowded table, all suspended in shock
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman
SANTA KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!
Copyright © Dan Keir
Obsessive workers in their seat
Anal about documents neat
Choose never to rush
Or the toilet to flush
Unless the paperwork's complete
Copyright © Duke Beaufort
the shipwrecked sailor
from the North
lands on land
between the seas
nothing but trees
the trees shade him from the sun
in the sky
the sky provides a medium
in which the birds
from the trees
and the birds
nested in the trees
provide the sailor
birds to fry
the shipwrecked sailor
after his bird meal
still can’t fly
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI
I asked for strength for the journey
But its in the journey I find the strength
I hear lost souls cry out
These are more than just words that I think
Yeah I'm on the brink of disaster
Lady Luck I'll come by and see you later
But at this time I'm ending the game I only got like ten minutes
But actually I'm running five minutes late
Yeah! its kinda like my life story
Yep, the red foe is crushed now
Sure, I'm just like lightning that is struck down
Like the beginning of wisdom, is to distinguish the differences
I face my fears, I continue in the face of resistance
Because the path of least resistance is what makes both men and rivers crooked
If I have another hearing the judge will throw the book at me
And last night, Oh my GOD why did you forsake me
I got on my knees and prayed for guidance through this darkness
I went back to where it started: and I walked away, took away the threat and became the target
Of course I'm more than just a product of my environment
I'm entirely> Aware that there are 2 kinds of conspiracy
The conspiracy of the government and the conspiracy of the devil
My soul is here just to show you, you must dig deeper inside yourself
I've reached way past the point where it seems hopeless
Every door in Sweetwater is closed to me
So I close the door to hell and open the door to heaven
It was God who said everything my hand touched would prosper
And my hand has touched this keyboard
And my voice is just screaming out to touch that microphone
"Get your microphone and make it pretty; Put a skull around it for this city"
Copyright © Timothy Jacks
Dragon really shouldn’t have borrowed the penguins, away from the Zoo.
Now he was their baby sitter at the lake, from morning till night, so true.
Not to mention a catasaurus was now stalking, his delightful little friends.
The Trolls volunteered their time, to help defend those cute ones, to the end.
He wanted to take them everywhere, wherever he could and had ever been.
Though most of those we’d been kicked out of… Well, here we go again.
First we passed our illustrious church, where the organ and voices rang on.
But as the penguins began to sing, it came out a screech, so I hurried them along.
Next we went to the local Ice cream Stand, where the Trolls devoured icy delights.
Brain freezes naturally ensued, so the penguins sat on their heads, what a sight!
The crowd applauded such an ingenious save, now penguin hats, are all the rage.
The Mayor gave them animal service vests, so in the news, he wouldn’t be upstaged.
This allowed them into the Mall, where lit fountains flow, a fascinating place, indeed!
Dragon became their slide, as the kids marveled at their fancy whoop-de-do deeds.
Next dragon herded them to a western shop, for sunbonnets, cowboy hats, and duds.
The mayor up for re-election, again, came along, and also got completely, gussied up.
Next was a candy store, where Dragon bought them a few, Yep, they’re like all kids.
A sugar rush ensued. Dragon reeled them in, before: who knew what, heaven forbid!
He even had to get them, out of the skylights, not easy for a bird that doesn’t fly…
But by directing them to the ice ring… he let them wear off their lengthy sugar high.
At the Mall Food Court, was sushi, and the children got to feed, the penguins they knew.
Naturally, the further they went, the more crowds ensued, until they bid the mall adieu.
But first they went to the bookstore, as yes, penguins like to read and be read to, too.
They’re now planning a penguin adventure book, ‘All the Things a Penguin Can Do’.
Then leaving the crowds, they went home on Dragon’s back, a lakeside nap, overdue.
Now I ask you very simply, if the penguins were yours to baby sit, so true…
Where, oh where, would you go… with such a precious little cargo, and you?
Copyright © Carol Eastman
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!”
Copyright © Dan Keir
< I'm going on journey ~ back in time
When I should of listened to my .... heart
But instead just followed .... head
What a mistake that .... was
Let me tell you .... now
Poor old ... lady
Didn't ... do
Noth ~ ing
Carrying her groceries home from the ... store
Me ~ brother ~ sister ~ brother's ... friend
Tossing lit~ firecrackers
Laughing ... and .... giggling
Looking ~ for ... trouble
And here she ... came
Four ..... against
Just ... one
Bet poor old women didn't .... expect
Handfull of lit .... firecrackers
To be tossed in her own .... bags
Others ran like .... dickens
I stayed and helped ... her
Picked up her ... stuff
And ... carried
Them ... all
A Journey Back In Time
Copyright © Katherine Stella
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!
Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings
She visits in my dreams,
A place that I love to go,
For when my body is sleeping;
My subconscious starts to show.
She is not the same as when I’m awake,
She is fierce and unafraid;
She watches over the pillows,
Where my head is soundly laid.
She has wings just like an Angel,
Only hers are made of light;
With brilliant rainbow hues,
Enough to shine throughout the night.
To me she looks much older,
Maybe even wise;
One look at me and I know,
She can see right through my lies.
For her and I are one,
No hiding from the truth;
She understands that I’m growing,
Developing from my youth.
She never passes judgment,
For herself would be included;
Her thoughts are always brilliant;
And never convoluted.
I’m referring to my soul;
Aged throughout my lives.
She gives my words their meanings;
And my body is what she drives.
Inspiring my movements,
And wiping all of my tears;
Her voice is mine but rings through,
My head and out my ears.
Perhaps it’s her who is writing this,
Giving me the rhyme;
My subconscious and my consciousness;
Working together for all of time.
Although most won’t understand this,
That it is about a different part of me,
Tonight under the full-moon;
I’m setting my spirit free.
Allowed to dance in the stars,
And run across the sky;
Only to return to our body,
Suppressing her urge to fly.
Copyright © Alyssa Waters
My computer has dementia
It keep asking me for
I keep telling it--
it has forgotten it
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI
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...
Copyright © Dan Keir
It was quite an adventure. I never had sailed.
Appearances looked like the last trip had failed.
“That rickety old thing? Ya’ sure it will float?”
Nodding my friend said, “Don’t call it a boat.”
We sat in the back as his Dad came up top.
He was dressed like a pirate. I felt my jaw drop.
Wielding a sword, his clothes were so cool.
He was twisting and jabbing as if in a duel.
“What’s going on?” I asked with concern.
My buddy said, “Watch, pay attention and learn.
He thinks he’s the Captain, that this is his ship.
Listen-up, or it could be a very long trip.”
My eyes were wide open as he tucked in his sword.
This might be a journey I could not afford.
“Arrrr…, fresh blood,” he said pointing at me.
“Are ye brave enough, boy, to sail the high sea?”
I cautiously nodded responding, “Yes sir!”
He then threw me a coat, why I’m not sure.
He leaped towards the cabin taking hold of the wheel.
His eye-patch and peg-leg looked pretty darn real.
“Shiver me timbers and spindle me toes.
Nubs to the wind, which way dar she blows?
You’ll swab up them decks and dust off them planks.
Ahoy ye scoundrels now scrub out ‘dem tanks.”
“Clean out the gallows and hoist up that mast,
I feel a storm brewing, It’s coming in fast.
We seek buried treasure, medallions and pearls,
cast off this island and straighten them curls.
Avast ye mates, ye stench of the earth,
we’ll fight to the death whatever it’s worth.
Keep an eye out for crocs. Be ready to shoot.
Be wary of pirates, they be after our loot.”
Crashing through waves like butter through steel,
the seduction of danger was casting appeal.
When this incredible journey was finally done,
I said, “Thanks for the ride in your boat, it was fun.”
Suddenly the veins in his eyes turned to red.
My friend shook his head exclaiming, “You’re dead.”
He wielded his sword like a Samurai Knight.
I said, “Captain, I don’t think you heard me just right.
If you thought I said boat, you misunderstood.
I said … thanks for the coat, it fit me real good.”
He then patted my head, put his weapon away.
My friend said, “Nice save, you can live one more day.”
Copyright © Kevin Pace
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…
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses
So, I write,
Sometimes I do it for me
At times it's out of spite
I should just let it be
Instead internal fight
It's hard to match these words
And rhyme them every time
Sometimes it for the birds
I know it has to rhyme.
I feel like such a nerd.
Inside my inner soul,
They grow and then they bud,
Completed now I'm whole,
Have not created a dud.
I try to tell a truth
Share a fact or two
Like when I lost a tooth
Is what I need to do,
Mustn't lose my couth.
I like the words to play
And sound and syllables dance
There is a certain way
It's not achieved by chance.
Someday it might pay.
Until that day does come
I try and do my best.
Make them all for fun
To share with all the rest
Enjoy I hope for some.
Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver
I wear a beard of aging, upon a cliff-face chin
A year has passed and grown its hairs out from my mottled skin
Mistakes sit there unchallenged, to each fibre clings a sin
Yet despite my facial mask of age the clubs won’t let me in
Copyright © Dan Keir
Our journey got paused
I insisted to the passengers
Let’s sleep on our way
We got to the Ibadan garage 1.05am
Then, we move on ‘morrow morning
Dissenting voices echoed diverse views
I offered to alight at the park
Couldn’t put my life at risk
Some of my co-travelers concurred
We paused at Abuja Park of Ibadan
For its of it good to be late than be a late.
Alayande Stephen T.
21st November, 2007
It was written at the Abuja Garage in
Iwo Road, Ibadan on my way to her in Ado-Ekiti.
Copyright © Alayande Stephen
How can I even try to make u understand;
Painfully a plea to concentrate has become my favorite stand;
Like a rose a lot of beauty lies in my quest to expand;
Will d communique ever b pleasant enough to create a band?
Alas! Emotions hardly noticed fades away like a strand;
Awareness unfettered might disrupt a beautiful sunset;
Passion it is, a fuel to this raging conquest;
Astonished she should be by his persistent reset;
Unequaled yet a complement in his abilities to create a proud upset;
Secretly he ponders confused on emotions from the onset;
Discouragement suddenly generates a podium of encouragement;
Seeking not all times is d virtue of acknowledgment;
On its peak surely there exist cloudless emotional entertainment;
Surely her smile ignites a no cowardly descent;
How special her heart would b as a priceless present;
A mirage I pray not, surely an ageless fun filled fantasy;
As such to wiggle her world through ecstatic ecstasy;
Rapidly receiving respectable ritual royalty;
Devotedly developing dynamic delivered dynasty;
Paused presently pledging pleading productivity;
Beauty, mere word immeasurable to her deserved placing;
Determination surely idolizes his quest for her proper cuddling;
Hard enough yet is the situation to recognize a fruitless calling;
Sabali! Reward deserveth those only in cognizance of her emotional cravings;
Never in pure hearts exist doubts as to happy endings.
Copyright © Prince Yusuf
So here I am on the beginning of my journey
A man invited into the woman’s mind
An unusual experiment I must admit
But one that might save all of mankind.
So where am I now, nothing looks familiar here
There are emotions I cannot understand!
I am sensing things I never sensed before
God, it’s much easier being a man.
Why is she not thinking about sex all the time?
What is this need for nurturing things?
And why is it that once each month
A feeling of bloating and instability it brings?
Oh, now that feeling is nice, what could that be?
Wow, a deeper sense of selflessness love.
Now that is indeed something man does need,
I’ll have to have a talk with the guy from up above.
Okay it looks like my time is up
This experiment has come to an end
They are making me exit the woman’s mind,
I sure hope they let me come back again.
Entry in The Opposite Sex contest
Copyright © Joe Flach
(prior to tha ode dee us political stink sans hillary rodham clinton, i scrawled out this poem. her likelihood to grasp to political mantle than considerably greater than fourteen months when another official will help keep america safe and sound from cares and concerns of an uncertain future).
Bill leave me
Hugh will cause a beloved howel
From him – the divine necromancer with magic dowel
If ambition stirs thee to make presidential bid for we Chelsea
Reverberating throughout terrestrial bowel
Analogous to former reigning supreme ringleader Muhammad Ali!
As an obedient student who crossed his t’s and affixed every “I” with a dot
Although high letter grades this older papa never got
(Undiagnosed anxiety inducing pressure cooker symptoms made me hot)
I recognize brilliance, and thus would immediately cast my lot
From the current secretary of state whose political skills right on spot!
One year hence, this democrat will cast his vote
Without doubt maintaining his party line
No matter campaigners with republican huzzahs will tote
Unable to change opinion of mine
Praying that economic maelstrom she can brazenly smote
If necessary seeking oracle of Delphi for a positive sign
Or devising my own catchy slogan to quote
Common as this generic human dust mote
Whose esprit de corps would to the stratosphere float
Like some over inflated helium filled ballooning goat
Kidding nobody that view from on high depicts sinking American boat!
Please take to heart
From this fellow (among ship of fools)
Who decries special interest groups sway to sabotage and up-end donkey cart
With extreme elephantiasis haunting white house with ghouls
With penchant to undermine sacred constitution with graffiti art!
This Joe schmoe of a lame duck nada so soup per poet
(who idolizes billy eve able applications of a cigar re: monica lewinsky)
would be in awe
And inwardly hee-haw
If this poem affected your name to be on ballot garnering cheers from this paw
And knows that in those random polls made of straw
The former forty second first lady gaga to engender revolutionary thaw!
Copyright © matthew harris
You scared me with the owl thing,
I wet myself and cried.
You supported me as Weebleking;
I'm glad you're on my side.
When the English man was in my head,
You did not scream and flee.
You grabbed him by his whiskered lip,
And stayed right here with me.
I told you of the mystery men,
Who always follow me;
You did not scoff and mock my words,
You offered sympathy.
And when I dubbed you Willowart,
You did not blow a fuse;
You took it all in gracious stride,
And proclaimed it happy news.
The kind of friend you've been to me,
I could not hope for more.
You've stuck with me through waves and troughs;
Past every rocky shore.
For years I've never given thanks,
Which was definitely rude.
So here today I send you this,
To show my gratitude!
I hope you've liked the trip so far,
Following my wandering brain,
I'll let you rest here for a bit,
Then off we'll go again.
Copyright © Jason Klaiber
All I ask is that you read this with a charitable mind,
And if you care to comment, please be verbose and kind!
I suppose a lot of what I concoct is for the birds,
But ain't it amazin' what you can do with words!
Great bards are unknown 'til this earthly plane they flee.
Like them, I hope folks'll say of me - he was a gifted SOB!
If I relied on writin' verse for a livin', I'd be on the skids.
Maybe anon someone will profit - hopefully 'twill be the kids!
Shakespeare, I'm told, was the world's greatest bard.
I'll never attain his renown, but I'm tryin' real hard!
Nor will I reach fame like that of my mentor Edgar Guest,
But, by jove, I'll give it my best in this poetical quest!
For writin' this stuff, alas, I've amassed no pelf,
But folks, I 'm certainly enjoyin' myself!
In my school days I couldn't get two words to rhyme.
In poetic composition I was deemed as mute as a mime!
I write never to become famous or rich,
But for others, hopefully, their lives to enrich!
I pray that in this poetical journey that I ply,
That the well of verse will never run dry!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw
Old And Holding Aces
I am old, youth lost does so deeply hurt
no more whiskey drinking brawls,
now slow and tired, feeling older than dirt
I no longer chase the pretty gals at all.
I am old, bad knees and snow on my head
no more , wild nights out dancing,
watch late news, now fall asleep instead
gone forever are my days out prancing.
I am old, can see the doorway awaiting
slow stepping my way over there,
Love-life over, no more sweet mating
I now can only sadly look and stare.
I am old, just damn glad to have now made it!
Do I now, hold onto last two aces or do I trade it?
Robert J. Lindley. 08-21-2015
Note- Sonnet mixture of truth , humor and
a sad realty!
Poetic leeway employed in the line about -
"Love-life over, no more sweet mating"
As trust me, thankfully that is not problem at all.
Copyright © Robert Lindley
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!
Copyright © Cecilia Patterson
me and you on a poor man's cross country trip
we never run out of gas
we never eat all the snacks
we do not need any ice for the cooler
we don't even need to get any drinks
all we are doing is looking at houses in other parts of this "small", rural city
our mouths are still like "smuahhhhh!"
our faces still have looks of surprise
we might as well be on "house hunters" as many times as we say "OH WOWWWW!"
we know good and well we cannot afford half the houses that we see
however, we speak in feeble british accents and pretend like we can
"UM, YES, OLE CHAP, OUR BUDGET IS A HUNDRED BILLION POUNDS!"
"HOW ABOUT WE TALK ABOUT IT OLL OVER A SPOT OF TEA?"
yeah....in our dreams, but in reality, we are having fun and enjoying each other's company
it is like....we are on vacation....GO FIGURE!!!!!
Copyright © Marty King