Long poem by
Beatrice Boyle | Details |
If I Were A Stone
If I were a stone…without a doubt I would be a lovely marbled granite…
the center of attention in a newly updated kitchen.
All eyes would be upon me…the first choice of decorators and would- be buyers everywhere. I would be a “must have” and a “deal breaker” for purchasers the world over. I would lord it over the mundane and dull kitchen cabinets no matter what the style. While their doors would be slammed shut a thousand times a day and scrubbed till they were sore…(ouch!)… I would be lovingly and carefully wiped down until they could almost see their reflection in me.
My island would be the gathering place and hub of the home…children would utilize me for their homework…my mistress would cheerfully hum a happy tune while rolling out delicious pies or cookies for dessert... my master would lay his briefcase down on me in order to hug the cook!
Unlike the living room rug (who thinks he’s king by the way.) I would not be stepped on, stomped on with dirty or muddy sneakers or roller skated on, (boys will be boys) or taken for granted in any way.
I would be the `piece de resistance` of the household and the most admired feature of the home.
And last …but not least…I would be carefully selected and carved, to serve as a towering memorial for loved ones to come and say a silent prayer for our nation’s fallen …and… bravest men!
I would be more than proud to be a granite stone! </center>
For the "Stoned" contest.
Copyright © Beatrice Boyle | Year Posted 2011
Long poem by
Shea Hunt | Details |
Why are you the way you are
On minute you seem like
The Best thing that this
World can ever do to me,
But then you can also be
The worst thing that I have
Ever and will ever know
Why do I even feel like this?
I said to myself that I will
Never again feel it but now
Now that I know you I can't keep to that.
I hate myself for even knowing you
At times, but just another smile
From you change everything
You stealing my heart right
Out of my clutched hand.
How can this even be possible?
I try so hard to say away,
But when I do all I think
Of is you and your smile.
You make plans to see me,
But do you think that you will
Ever see them through
You say that I am special,
But you never act like I am
Yes your words make me
Think that it’s so true but
Your actions towards me
Makes me feel that you
Never want it to be.
I feel like I am your doll
That when you feel lonely at night
You divide to take me down for
A game or two, but when the sun
Rises you put me back up there
And act as if I never existed
In your life not even as a friend
I am over playing this game
That you are into
I think that you should look at
How you are acting and make
Up your mind on what you
Want, coz I am over playing
This gamiest either me
Or not once you have made
Up your mind let me know
So I don't have to sit here
I am over feeling empty
Just want to feel complete
Again, but I just
Guess at this point in time
It’s not meant to be
Why just like someone
When you can love them
Or in fact even
Die for them
Copyright © Shea Hunt | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Robert Ball | Details |
Many people in this world love their animals.
From cats, dogs, birds, all imprisoned in kennels.
To own one they pay for shots, and adopt.
The pay for licenses, fees, finally they are bought.
Now we as animal lovers care immensely for them.
Making them part of the family, like next of kin.
Sadly they care only for pets, not humans.
Plenty of children need adoption, left alone among men.
People all over the world are starving and dying.
Little children go hungry, many are weak and crying.
Did you ever have to go to bed sick or hungry?
Wondering where your next meal will be, it’s not funny.
In Africa, Libya, Sudan, Ethiopia, children are suffering.
Many nations try to help; many don’t try, not caring.
The Lord says “let the children come to me.”
His children are important, he wants them spiritually.
Children go hungry, one in five in the USA.
Inner City, our Cities, feel the crunch everyday.
As parents, desperation and panic set in.
So crime rates soar, as they try to feed their children.
Something is sadly wrong when pets are fed and children suffer.
Caring for animals, while children go hungry, Sisters and Brothers.
Desperately they turn to crime, drugs, robbery, is an epidemic.
Animals over humans, something is definitely wrong;
While humans suffer pandemics.
A new world, with Jesus at the helm.
Will bring an end to suffering, we will overcome.
A new thought “Love” will appear on earth.
It’s been promised by God what before our birth.
Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Chuma Okonkwo | Details |
We exchanged glances
Slugs from her eyes exploded into
I couldn’t dodge, maugre I flinched
With a flick of her blinkers she
brought musical box
Playing unceasing medieval ballad in
I realized the duration I had
whistled in the dark.
As a deer fly pants to spread
So my gentle soul hankers after her
My eyes glued to her inviting
Epitome of a pictorial archetype
depicting an Arabian princess
I read the instructions on her face to
I could make out letter of intent on
her fickle lips
Her lips are nature’s nectar!
Take me out of this wilderness, she
whispered in hushed tone
Beneath the veneer of my tender
I felt the gentle touch of her auburn
The smell of her womanly scent
smeared the tip of my nose
Shivers fluttered in drops across my
If only ululation could bring down
angels from heaven
I would summon the whole angels in
Feelings of unfailing anticipation
buck up every nerve in my body.
A gentle touch from my velvet hand
moistened every fiber
She had in her squishy and tanned
All over her plummy body were
In plain sight even to the blind eyes
We were receptive of our tingly and
Leaning on each other nakedly in
We could feel our spirit sync our
In deep winter garden our burning
We serenaded our souls as we
prayed to live in winter melon.
Copyright © Chuma Okonkwo | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
James Kelley | Details |
I'm that type of guy..
The sort that you said you would never let yourself get mixed up with again.The kind of guy that knocks back 5 shots of whiskey before sucking his teeth at the moon, hidden behind neon lights and shoddy bar mirrors; Holding in the burn, promising not to let my lighter char your cheek while I light up your cherry. I smile at your timid lean and wink, just so you know that the cute disposition of satin cloaked prey in a cage of wild animals doesn't make me wince. I'm used to this, numb to this. You though, you don't seem to feel the pull of this place you're in. You're still treading the vomit of your last mistakes, hungover in recollections of battered heart symphonies. Fresh wounds in the murk, chum to the sharks, beautiful. I don't ask to buy you a drink, or for your name, but you offer it willingly as if it were a confession in a place of purity. I order more whiskey, push a little heat over to you and wait for the night to take its toll. One of us, I'm never sure which; is going to die a little bit more tonight. We drink to the sound of billiards clacking and a jukebox with over eager speakers and talk in circles until we're dizzy with lust. I have forgotten your name, but you never cared. I'm that type of guy. The pain you were looking for, to make you forget the woes you carried in with you. I wish I could say you did the same for me, but I came here for the whiskey. You shouldn't have fed the animals.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Copyright © James Kelley | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
SEREN ROBERTS | Details |
Santas little helpers were busy having fun
Wrapping and labelling the presents ready for the Xmas run
The reindeer had their coats washed smelt of lavender and things
The sleigh had been revarnished was now bright and glowing.
The reigns were now polished as a surprise for Santa Claus
So he would look the kiddy not a drab old droopy drawers
The presents were in the sack, in house order for delivery
Santa admired his reigns not realising they were slippery.
He jerked the reigns as a nod for the reindeers"
To start their pulling then it happened, oh dear
The reigns slipped through Santa's fingers reindeer were off at speed
Luckily thomas was out with his tank engine knew he had to try and stop the steeds
He puffed along the track shouting at Santa to hang on tight
Then disappeared into a tunnel giving Santa such a fright
The minions were out in their millions pulling on the reigns to stop the race
While batman flew in voicing his opinion that a race at Xmas wasn't the place
Said to the minions you want to help, Santa is exhausted not in the mood to yo ho ho ho
Deliver these presents off you go but be quiet those children mustn't know
But if you peeped and saw yellow Santas Instead of the usual red one
It's the minions helping out until the presents are all gone.
Santa is snoring now he has had a stressful day
Think before you do more than help it sometimes doesn't pay .
Penned 26 November 2014
Copyright © SEREN ROBERTS | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
liam mcdaid | Details |
Upon the winds whispering so gently a love story unfolds
Under soft beautiful clouds with rainfalls splashing love
With two lovers holding, caressing, and kissing one another
The radiant azure sky fresh with recent rain and a rainbow
Gives way toward evening to a cold moon face wishing to
Take the two lovers to a faraway special place full of sunshine
This magical place is where the sun shines forever beautiful
And the feelings, desires, passions, and emotions of love are
Always together true as ONE of a much bigger love portrait
This young man and woman walk hand-in-hand very much in
Love while listening to the far distant echoes thundering from
Surrounding cliffs while near the ocean dream seagulls cry aloud
As the man opens the gates of this paradise with his special lady
They both experience at once blinding tears of warm joy, and he
Just wants to fulfill immediately her every wish to be happy in love
The young man tells his sweetheart with a most earnest passion:
“Dearest One, I want so much to make you happy my precious love!”
Our love My Sweet unites our bodies and souls so complete and whole
These two lovers have found their paradise fulfilling their dream of being
Together always walking under a wonderful star-filled sky dazzling pure
Sharing their love and seizing their very destiny now—Two now as ONE
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, Copyright ©
All Rights Reserved (January 11, 2015) (Unrhymed Tercet)
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
ezer agyin | Details |
<center>Did I tell you the story of my mystical black rose?
Well let me
In my troubled nights I took comfort in the scenery of my old window
One tiny sparkle always shone its way through the darkness, embracing my sorrow
Till the night I decided to visit my sorrow's whisker in the belly of midnight
I wrestled through the bushes sacrificing my blood on the alter of their sharp leaves and thorns
Till my eyes was paralyzed on this black rose that collected drops of dew in its petals and lightened them with the moonlight; that mysterious sparkle now lay bare in my eyes and in my reach for the first time.
I'd never seen black so beautiful, but as much as I wanted to pluck it for myself my heart wouldn't let me, for I was not in love with just a black rose but everything else that made it sparkle my sorrows away; the moon and the dew.
As I left with doubt clouding my mind, I saw its sparkling drops trickle down its petals.
Can a rose cry?
For I live now never to see it sparkle again ever since that night.
I'm different now, beyond need of sparkles for my nights but I always walk to that old window waiting for my mystical black rose to reach my heart again. Even though I might see myself a gray haired man starring in my old window, I'll wait, just patiently wait, for my black rose to come alive again. And this time, just this time I will not think twice.</center>
<em>Read more poems and short stories by The Writer, ezer agyin, here http://ezeragyin.wix.com/the-writer</em>
Copyright © ezer agyin | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Redkite In-Flight | Details |
<center><b>Hypocrisy within the Village Flock</b>
As the seasons of my life changes, glorious it may not be!!
Valley bells summons the flock to chapel.
Heavily polished Pews squeak, as Village flock take their seats.
Distant ghostly voices ring out with such shallowness.
“Chapel roof raised with such false faith”
No attention paid to the sermon.
The congregation floored by jealousy, as each man mirrored by his own status.
Women competing, against their hats and frocks.
Jealousy worms weaving through their gowns,
feathers in hats, quivers as the coven moves through the vestry door.
Minister excited to the jingles of the collection box whilst being passed around and around.
my soul lays upon a bed of thistles.
Whilst the thorned crown compresses the thoughts within my head.
Lurking within the shadows of the cross .
Whilst the gruelling over the sacrificial lamb
So-called reputable men “ that should not be”
The pitch pine pulpit, creeks with despair.
Parishioners best clothed with shiny shoes,
“all hypocrites congregate here”!!
Layer upon layer of blasphemous faith,
create a stain on uneasiness upon the so-called sacred walls .
Each Private hymnbook worn by sweating hand,
fidgeting tell- tales of fear through ware.
Each before God and un- easy to what conscience they happen to bear!!
“ If this is faith, then I want no more,”
All false faces glance, finally and for the last time.
I exit through the memories, OF that stained chapel door. </center>
Copyright © Redkite In-Flight | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Jordan Hedgepeth | Details |
19 in my city bad enough that I already got two strikes with me so I keep my skateboard close and move real swiftly I can do a couple a of grab tricks that involved a shifty females love me I get real swifty handles so good that I think I'm shift team all I really want is my millions quickly invest a couple million into my city can't nobody really kill it like me I don't wanna be mike see I'm me and that's JT yeah gone and hate on me it make me shine no time to hold the nine skateboard on my mind always on my grind
Hit the block but I'm never selling rocks kick pushing pass the opps non stop where I'm from its skateboard or get stopped so I skate for the people you can expect an sequel I'm working hard so our money won't be equal and I don't wanna sound evil so I pray to the lord to stay peaceful skate skills like Knievel sometimes you gotta put the fear beneath you I can't stop thinking about my people that's why we can't be equal you can't be stressed when you're living this blessed I know my hair a mess put my city on my chest as a sign as respect on my super man shhh.
I think I killed this track aye can you run it back rappers break their necks trying to flow on easy tracks the skate park is my natural habitat watch me skate you might have a heart attack I never stay down I always come back get the latest iPhone and swear it ain't shit but me I swear I made it always grateful never hating always thankful that I'm always skating learning new tricks it's too amazing
Copyright © Jordan Hedgepeth | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Gail Foster | Details |
They never went to war; they stayed at home
The young, the old, the unwell and the dead
The women who were not allowed to roam
The men who tilled the fields and baked the bread
Some sat in darkness waiting for the rap
Of letterbox, and soft white feather fall
The silence broken by a dripping tap
Dark shadows cast by street lamps on the wall
The little lads who ran behind the train
That took their fathers off to certain death
Who waved until their arms ached in the rain
Who ran until their lungs ran out of breath
Old men who yearned for youth; just one more chance
To feel the blood flow, hear the battle cry
To wear the uniform and take a stance
To stand with other men, to fight and die
The crippled and the mad, the deaf, the blind
Escaped the fate of many thousand men
Some angry that they had been left behind
Some thankful that they’d never fight again
Women, who with their sleeves rolled ploughed the land
Lit candles, raised the children, hid their tears
Made ammunitions with a careful hand
Kept watch and saved the night time for their fears
So many stayed at home, and stayed alive
And suffered pain and loss, regret and guilt
That they were left, that they were to survive
Within the house such sacrifice had built
Their many names are not inscribed on stone
Those sorrowed souls, so haunted by war’s ghost
Were left to stand and mourn the dead alone
Listening to the trumpet sound the post
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Mystic Rose | Details |
Pirouettes and dips, she dances round the floor
the music is intoxicating, the lights are asking, more?
Little feet keep dancing on the shiny waxed floor
as the winds of Utopia, sift through her darkly hair;
She hangs down like a rag doll, made of porcelain and stock
and he brings her to a tap dance on wooden shoes of knock;
Puppet is her nickname, he clips her like a ranger
up and down he pulls her, on a roller coaster ride
Prance my little reindeer prance and sing carefree
Petticoats of frill n' dainty, ruffled views are free
Essence of her beauty strewn, for every eye to see
Time elapses, viewers change, still she dances T,
He the Master her the Puppet, both are in disguise
when he fools the ignorant he also fools the wise
Claps of thunder from the peek-faced angled ones
and how he puffs with prides then wonder,
as he descends his Pagoda castle in the sky.
He goes to re-assemble his puppet of Di-la
but to his chagrined stumper,
she's gone to la-di-da...
Marion moments of joy ascend her as she dies with lastly sigh
All her parts are put together and she waves her last goodbye
Sonar sounds of sun and moon, light displays of stars and sky
Truth be told she never dances, just sits and looks and smiles
Ever heard of a good ending? Well that's what I'm getting to,
Regardless of a lifetime anchor, she's now dead n' turning blue.
Don't let this happen to you...
November 13, 2015
Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Silent One | Details |
Consequent to this passage they call life,
I became a pilgrim searching for a guide.
Each haven was a short sojourn, as fate
brought me teachers, but not all the answers.
Until I met a woman who revealed darkness,
I looked to the moon and learnt about light.
I realised my eyes had deceived me,
when I stumbled upon a man who could not see.
A girl who could not hear, touched my soul,
and in essence gifted me the art of listening.
When I heard fools engage in absurd talk,
my tongue became silent,
unless it was deemed necessary to speak.
I learnt the power of the smallest gesture,
when I saw a smile on sad child's face.
As I walked among those with tears in their eyes,
I learnt the power of a positive mind,
for tears would only hamper my quest.
In sadness, I realised that only happiness,
would help to escape such a demise,
forever, I wore a smile and learnt the power of laughter.
In essence, I learnt to become strong,
from the burdens upon my shoulders.
I realised the importance of love,
when I saw hatred in the eyes of a lost soul.
I learnt the power of compassion,
when I saw a boy dying from hunger.
I understood the value of truth,
when I became surrounded by lies.
In defeat, I learnt humbleness,
in victory, I learnt nothing.
I learnt about courage,
when I saw a coward hiding.
I learnt many a lesson,
through messages during adversity.
I finally understood life,
when I saw those dying...
8 July 2016
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
W.... Truth | Details |
Someone asked me once what exactly is it that separates us from the socially elite or the ruling class,
and the answer she said would require real thought and that until I answered I could not pass.
It also could not pertain to a wise saying people use in passing or a notion or a clever line to sum it all up or cynically encompass it all,
but that the answer had to be definitive, direct and pertain to the actual tool used for this segregation or mildly put separation and that seeing the answer and knowing where very different but finally with the answer I must still stand tall.
Would it be crazy that the answer or name could be considered a real State or more over applicably characterized as the the 51st State but the main one of the many exceptions that comprise this State and many more like exemptions in that State is that it has no boundaries and no border,
And in politics demands for a strict criminal justice system by this socially elite especially in relation to violent and property crime as they described and through stricter criminal penalties against the have not's and then the have not's treated as depraved is this real definition of law and order.
So after very deep unbiased and original thought and after seeing all that's going on from Dallas and even many other country's and even far away in Nice
I believed that now I know the answer and I said to her "Police".
She let me pass....
Copyright © W.... Truth | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Elizabeth San Miguel | Details |
People say that love never fails,
That all is fair in love and war,
But really, how do you know,
What love can or can not do?
And if all is fair in love and war, then
Why does someone always end up getting hurt?
I know my love will never fail,
Because I love you with all my heart and soul,
Because I would give my life for you,
And everything I am or have just to be with you.
However, I can not be fair to all
Because all is not fair in love and war.
I wish to hurt no one, so I don't,
But by doing so, I hurt myself.
My heart wants to be with you so much
And yet I wish to hurt no one.
So I don't, I don't confess my love for you,
I keep it locked inside,
And as a friend I stay by your side.
My love for you remains forever pure and unchanged.
I love you, Yes, I do, with all my heart and soul,
With all that I am and hope to be just for you.
My heart untamed and wild, dreaming of what if,
But it's cut in half by the love I feel for both.
My heart belongs to you but only half,
Because I gave the other half away to him.
Now I suffer for my love, for both are great,
But only one, I wish I could be with forever.
All is not fair in love and war,
So I love you both and suffer much,
Because my heart is wounded, torn in half.
I can not speak of my deep love for you,
I can not confess my feelings to you.
So I go on with my life pretending nothing's wrong.
Why must I go on without your love?
It's faith, I guess, that I suffer so.
It's destiny to love you so.
Copyright © Elizabeth San Miguel | Year Posted 2006
Long poem by
Spidey Williams | Details |
Nobody told me that the road would be EASY,
With every BREATH,
I begin to feel one with DEATH.
Wondering why it’s not me lifeless in the GRAVE.
Wondering why my life is being SAVED?
The more I breathe in this world’s AIR,.
The more I seem to CARE.
The more than I APPRECIATE,
Every time I AWAKE.
Every time I CRY,
Every fear I FACE,
I’m realizing I’m living NOW,
for a purpose, while preparing MYSELF,
for a better PLACE.
I do not know what tomorrow BRINGS,
But I know what today IS.
My tomorrow results from what I make of TODAY!
Today determines what my tomorrow may BRING!
Yesterday helps factors a fraction of my TODAY!
But nobody told ME!
The weight of the world would be carried by ME.
I knew it would be HARD,
but never did I think it would be this DIFFICULT.
I never thought I would actually loose so MUCH,
before I gain so LITTLE.
I never thought the little gain, would mean so MUCH!
I never realized how little I CRIED,
Until when I TRIED,
no tears would FLOW.
And when they started they would never STOP!
And when they stopped, the feelings would still REMAIN!
Nobody told me I would loose so many KEN.
Nobody told me I would loose several of my close FRIENDS.
Nobody told me I would feel so low DOWN.
Nobody told me I would be hurt by words SPOKEN.
Nobody told me my heart would be constantly BROKEN.
But even if they had told ME,
all of this and much MORE.
It would have never prepared me to be the CHOSEN!
Copyright © Spidey Williams | Year Posted 2006
Long poem by
michael romero | Details |
Locked in my cabin I can bare to think
turn to the rocks and let it smash and sink,
our voyage's end seems to be on the brink,
alas a RAIDERS ship now turns to a mild drink,
"captain" a voice at my cabin door screams out,
as I reach from my sward and stand firmly stout,
" our ship lyes in the thickest of fog and without,"
if I listen to the words they are words of doubt,
I steady my hand with a drink and my fate as well
I open the door and the a crushing angry sea I smell,
one step out and calm my ship sits still and without yells,
looking into the eyes of the broken I see withered shells,
how could this be this is my ship and it escaped me,
a tyrant in my days of old I sit calm speechless as a tree,
no mutiny no sabotage only a crew unwilling to hear my plee,
a ship over run by blind servants and disregard for my decree,
the ski clears as the seas water turns blue,
a smile from faces as if waiting for an accrue,
a dead mans ships drifts on waters and starts anew,
my body plunges into the sea and even at my death I knew,
the soul tamed by ones lovers kiss has no purpose,
a mans word floats unheard willingly disregard and missed,
and a captain can only rule until another strips him of his ship,
now forgotten and gone this ship floats lost and unequipped.
Copyright © michael romero | Year Posted 2008
Long poem by
Rhia Madison Thomer | Details |
I've counted the bars of my prison walls. 3 sides of 10 bars; 30. One solid wall,
cold, wet, molded concrete.
I've lost count of how long I have been here,
I hardly remember when I got here, but, it’s been winter
for a long time.
I've forgotten what it is to move in grass and amongst other bodies.
I am chained in here,
thick steel cuffs chain me to the wall.
I've counted the faces, whose names I can't remember,
and then lost count of them
as they flash and flicker, fast forwarded in my mind.
I've been motionless for a long time,
I’m not sure I even remember what movement is.
I’m not sure I can even remember to move.
I’ve forgotten who I am, my name, how old I am
how tall I am, my features, likes and dislikes;
there are no mirrors.
I’ve been nameless for a long time, and there is no one else
here in this vast blank expanse but me and these bars,
and one wall.
I’ve realized I don’t even know what I am
and that panics me, but I know not what this feeling is?
What Is feeling?
I’ve thrown myself at the bars, clawing at the nothing
that lies behind them.
What Is nothing?
I’ve discovered there is a name that echoes and echoes In the vastness,
how do I know that name?
Is it mine, yours, theirs, his, ours?
I’ve remembered, the memories crush into me,
a weight I had not known for unknown amounts of time.
No go away! Again, please...
I’ve tried to forget,
but the white walls are somewhere out there, waiting.
and I? Why, I do not even exist.
Copyright © Rhia Madison Thomer | Year Posted 2009
Long poem by
colin mitchell williams | Details |
What is it inside the heart of man
That cannot appreciate another’s suffering
Were we born with this senseless implacability
Is it from life itself we grow these calluses of the soul
Are we created not to care
Is the face of nature so coldly ruthless
That we must come to be so
For what belief in anything in which to believe
Should we maim and destroy and kill
What is it that we know so well
That the idea of difference can cause such conceited violence
How do we become so voluntarily indoctrinated
Is it some desperate need to have sense amidst the senseless
To have at least the illusion of a purpose
When then do we celebrate the diversity of our sense to make sense of the senseless
Should every woman and man dream and aspire
And have every man and woman dream and aspire to the same
Or say this love is stronger or this way is better
This truth more truthful than anything anyone else can know
Who’s despicable spirit can live with out some measure of guilt in overfed luxury
While others starve and die in poverty
Are we not as one with this the global identity we call humanity
Are we not basically and essentially all the same
If right there is to pass on righteous judgment
For cultural and social and political and religious difference
Such conviction and contempt is that all we see in our own reflection
When then do we celebrate our diversity of sense to make sense of the senseless
Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2009
Long poem by
Robert L. Hinshaw | Details |
The grandfather clock just struck twelve, that magic hour of night,
And there he sits drumming our fingers musing about something to write!
He's been biting our nails and running our fingers through his hair,
Scratching his head, searching for witty or apt verse to prepare!
Ah! Now he's flexing our digits and I detect in his eyes a gleam.
We think he's collecting his thoughts to concoct a masterful scheme.
Something comparable to works by Whitman or Riley, no doubt.
These fingers should get some credit, no matter how it turns out!
What will it be? A poem about religion, politics or the billowing seas,
Little children, old soldiers, love gone sour or scarlet hued trees?
Perhaps a few stanzas about cowboy lore - only the Lord can tell!
Our fingers just fly over the keyboard - that old coot types pretty well!
We're getting numb and need rest but he provides no reprieve.
He's typing at least seventy-eight words per minute, I do believe!
But never fear, we'll manage to keep ahead of his versatile mind,
And keep pounding away as thoughts from his prolific skull unwind!
Well, he has completed what he considers a masterpiece at last.
We're petered out and ready to curl up - we have typed so fast!
But all of us from our thumbs to our pinkies have had a blast!
We pray he never gets writer's cramp - that would leave us aghast!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
1st Place in Linda-Marie's "Finger Frenzy" Contest - June 2010
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010
Long poem by
William Masonis | Details |
Poiseidon's waters roil and roar
All up and down the craggy coast;
Their winedark waves have brought the host
Of foreign men all drunk for glory,
For the sake of one man's vanity
They traveled to your alien shore
To write with blood and bone a story
Of the Gods' capriciousness towards men,
Of passion's triumph over sanity
Which they shall repeat: again, again.
The men will surge against your city walls
Ten long and doleful years;
As your children, born to violence, shriek, and widows' tears
Appeal to you, their hero Prince,
To drive them back to whence they came
As your father walks the palace halls,
As does his shade now, ever since -
Ever since you went out to face the foe
And pass to time your noble name,
Their legend and their martyr, hope and woe.
It would be asked by what Creed you chose to live
Before you fell to the Fates' perversity,
Before their undeserving Champion dragged you 'round the city.
"Honor the Gods", you said, cruel though they may be.
"Defend your C