Poem | |
A row of marbled faces, eerily looking the same,
Vulnerably standing, with no fear or shame.
The King is calm and quiet, simple in his speed.
Short on time and energy, filled with anger and greed.
The Queen beside him controlling, no where she can't go,
She moves with mighty vengeance, a smooth ebb and flow.
The Bishop is almighty; hoping none of them will fall.
Crossing back and forth, giving his blessings to them all.
The Rook is our tower, hidden, way off to the side.
It's there our King can castle if he needs somewhere to hide.
I watch the game play out before me, strategy and endurance.
With a rhythmic to and fro, the battle is a bloody dance.
Protect the King at all costs, that is our passionate creed.
Give to him our faithfulness and he will return our need.
Everyone of us is special, we all play a key role to winning.
He admires and will provide for us, he tells us at the beginning.
When the knight stood in front of me, with his steel sword drawn.
I realized right then and there, all I was is just a pawn.
Casarah Nance &
Poem | |
The guests were partying in the big house
a burglar sneaked in armed with a lead pipe
Mrs. White in the kitchen bastes a grouse
Colonel Mustard had guests caught in his hype
A candle stick shone while hung from a rope
in the library Miss Scarlett, dressed in red
felt a cold shiver when a hand did grope
then led to the study, she, filled with dread
In the hall a loud bang sounds with a boom
a revolver echoed… Reverend Green fell
Professor Plum in the billiard room
bled from a dagger…a final farewell
In the lounge, Mrs Peacock ( what a wench )
reflects on her actions, holding a wrench
This sonnet is based on the game of Cluedo it has
been the source of many hours of entertainment
and the source of many an argument, possibly
leading to murder.
Mr Green was originally called Reverend Green
it was changed to Mr. for the American market.
Poem | |
Crackle, pop, fizz,
the soda pop sweetly
A tall, ice cold
glass of Coca-cola
sweats beside me.
Circles on the
hardwood floor, I
hide under a pillow.
Father would be
furious, I won't let
My brother and me
side by side on the
Too close to the
television, I don't
The whirlwind of
competition in the
a tornado of
games in the
My tiny hands grasp
The red buttons beg
to be pushed in fast
Up, down, up, down,
left, right, left,
Mortal combat, my
character blazed in
Blow by blow,
defeated one too
many times, revenge.
spills from our not
so innocent speech.
Pillows between us
start to wrestle
with each other,
In his playful anger
he throws mine out
The battle is
heating up vibrant
across the screen,
good times had.
rivalries and pride
I scream "I've won,
finally!" I was too
loud, I woke up Dad.
Grounded from the
hypnotic lights on
Still I grin from my
well thumbed gaming
It might have been
the first time and
the last time,
But I can say that
at least once, I was
the winner, yes, me!
For Contest Vibrant
Poem | |
Lost in Youth
Rainbows in the clouds, walking on railroad tracks , locomotives up close
Kickball games , I am left footed, spooky reflections in a mirror, running naked
Wooden desks and chairs, kids in the classroom , the little girl across the street
Black and white T.V., Air conditioning , a new blue car, exhaust fumes
The farm, coal fired furnace , warm heating ducts
a collie , a cocker spaniel and a horse named Thunder
Dark starry nights , telescopes , comets and satellites
Northern winters, snow covered fields ,sledding, frozen lakes , and Orion
Camping in fields , mosquitoes bites , quiet dawns and heavy morning dew,
Grandparents ,riding lawn mowers , apple trees , flower and vegetable gardens
Southern Summers , warm muggy nights , ceiling fans ,open screened windows
Screened in porches, ancient toys, , tiny transistor radios, baseball games talking late into the night
Badminton , side lawns , and long rides home
Public pools , icy waters and underwater swims
Trombone , marching band and high school football games
Sleepy classes, friends , lunchroom games, and girls
High school graduation , college and final goodbyes
Poem | |
The idea behind this poem came from reading a poem of the same title, written by Richard “Canadian Man-god” Lamoureux. Now, his poem went in an entirely powerful, yet other, direction than I thought it was going to go. I happily let him know that. So, he decided to have me touch upon where I thought he was going with his poem.
Some people really need to be careful what they ask for… ;-)
On an 8pm, Louisiana dream
Tastes of nocturnal, July humidity
Succumbs flagrant passions
With moistened grip, they tease
Coltrane whispers annihilate tense exhales
Under concave moon
She threw Mr. So and So onto Pacific Ocean’s waterbed
As if she was a professional baseball pitcher
His exuberance would shatter sound’s tattered walls.
Chemical reactionary bliss
Similar to Neutron bombs
Minus the consequences
Her tailored skin
Ready for gripped, enigmatic resolutions
She had to “freshen up”
“You’re already being fresh, don’t stop on my account”,
He says with Monday mourning frustration
As cedar scented bathroom door shuts with determined patience,
And running water with a mix of Celine Dion hums from her trained throat
He stands to gather his thoughts…
…until his eyes exit stage right towards her opened travel bag
A pair of satin boxers & edible, Cotton Candy hand-cuffs from Target
With a signed, perfumed gift tag,
“Can’t wait for tomorrow, Mr. Such and Such,
-Love, your Hedonistic dream”
As running water came to serenity’s halt,
She exited restroom with shedding curves.
Her strut became dislocated,
As she stared into his trembling pupils
Wiping the cotton coating from his lips
“Too bad you couldn’t chew your way out of this one”,
The other half of the handcuffs smeared in cursive signature
Against yellow-gold gift tag he hands her with unedited closure
With striking slams against Louisiana hotel door
Parallel to Mother Nature’s thunderous clap
He exits stage left
A proverbial slap
©Drake J. Eszes
Poem | |
relying on chance
trying to find a needle
inside a haystack
a well-balanced choice
a winner or a loser
you can bet on it
when tossing a coin
the most probable outcome
would be heads or tails
lack of dialogue
increases the probable
failure of marriage
waking up early
does not always guarantee
you’ll see the sun rise
weighing pros and cons
when faced with a decision
between right or wrong
Author: Paul Callus ~ 24th July, 2014
Contest: Haiku on Probabilities
Sponsor: Marvin Celestial
Poem | |
One wake-up away
From the best day of your life.
Life’s just a crapshoot.
Poem | |
I stopped combing my heart
So my feelings could lock up
And I’d be able to speak of real bliss
Then wrap my love around how unlike
The others you drew no boundaries
But still you knew who you want
And I didn’t have to pull any stunts
Or play these games
That we all play when the days
Turn to night and her smile
Shines so bright
Losing all my power
But I don’t need this
Lie to steal this kiss
And I don’t have to lie
Or invent moments that
Speak of real bliss
Or wish that she was another
Cause she’s the other
I wished they all were
The games I used to stir
My pot of lies
And tries to be the man
I’m not ready to be
You had the foresight to see
That soon I’ll be the man
Who speaks of real bliss
And wants to give you kids
Living the best life
You’ll ever know
We’ll grow together
Maybe even old
A weathered couple
Reminiscing about that Tuesday night
We had our last first kiss
The night I learned how
To speak of real bliss.
Poem | |
Enter the arena
A gong sounds
The Hunger Games have begun!
Blades of swords and knives crash
Run. run, run
Away from the cornacopia!
Blood splatters, staining the earth
Bodies splayed on the ground
Others die right off hand
Only one left to be the VICTOR!
Welcome to The Hunger Games!!!!
This is based on a very good book called The Hunger Games (well good in my
opinion). This future distopian science-fiction novel is about future North America.
The Capitol is a very dictator-like establishment and starve their citizens then throw
them into the hunger games, a fight to the death on live television.
Poem | |
To play as if today
Is your only chance.
Some say, “It’s just a game.”
Have they done the Victory Dance?
When hard-earned Victory
Was finally at hand,
Have they felt the glory
Raining down from the stands?
To do or not to do….
No one wants to hear, “We tried.”
Effort and dedication will be rewarded…
And ‘Sooner Magic’ is on your side.
Yes, to fall short is still an option;
But much better to succeed.
Heroes are made and remembered
Only by their deeds.
So, just go out and win.
Give your all to each and every chance.
Persevere and achieve…
And do the Victory Dance.