Long poem by
Roy Jerden | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/cruisin_the_drag_412689' st_title='Cruisin' the Drag'>
Sipping cherry limeade, driving in the car parade,
We're cruising in the Lone Star state
Didn't want a bucket seat; the thing it couldn't beat,
Was sitting up close to your date
One hand on the wheel of daddy’s Oldsmobile,
My arm around my brown-eyed girl
Feeling pretty sporty, radio on top forty,
I was cooler than the Duke of Earl
The lady of the cruise had her penny loafer shoes,
Her bobby socks were turned down twice
With a little eyeliner, she couldn't be much finer
Too much and it wouldn't be nice
There’d be no wild oats under those petticoats
She’d never go all the way
Just a perfect flip-up 'do and cute look number two
Practiced in the mirror all day
Hear those tires squeal when I make the rubber peel
For the flyboys waiting on the bus
To take them to the base where they don't feel out of place
Not cruising like the rest of us
I was the drag's head honcho as we pulled across the Concho
And we saw the lights along the riverside
We'd had quite a lark at Neff's amusement park
Playing putt-putt and going on a ride
The cheerleader squad rode a killer hot rod
With a spinner on every rim
A perfect tuck and pleat on every single seat
Courtesy of Wanda's Auto Trim
Candy apple red, it would really knock you dead
It was a drop-top Pontiac
One was there to steer and three were in the rear
Posing up on the back
Those football beauty queens in their skin-tight Levi jeans
Were followed by their biggest fan
Checking out those lasses in his Buddy Holly glasses
Was the nerdy little Aqua Velva man
In his stainless steel braces he grinned up at their faces
They iced him with a haughty air
He never would forget it; they would later on regret it
When he became a multi-millionaire
A four girl bevy in a big finned Chevy
Were riding west on Sherwood Way
Four guys right behind in a pick-up state of mind
All ready to make their play
Thought they were the smartest cruising pick-up artists
But those gals were pretty astute
When they stopped and the guys started telling all their lies
The chicks started putting on the cute
We turned the car around and headed back downtown
Cruising down the boulevard
Stay cool daddio, bear right at El Patio
And take it down Beauregard
There were lots of pleated skirts and those button-down shirts
The flattops were everywhere galore
From a Lincoln Continental, we heard an instrumental
Mister Acker Bilk's “Stranger on the Shore”
We slowly pulled through BJ’s, listening to the deejay’s
Announcement of the next hit song
Leaning on their doors with their Brylcreem pompadours
Two hoods were playing Mr. Wrong
Completing their disguise, they slouched with narrowed eyes
And did their best at looking mean
With a twist of his pelvis, one was doing Elvis
The other did a fine James Dean
Like a sweet potato vine, the bride of Frankenstein
Was entwined around the Marlboro man
With the passion of their make out, they should have gotten takeout
And opted for a bigger floor plan
With her big black beehive hair and his fancy western wear
They were putting on quite an awesome scene
I had to give a chuckle at his huge silver buckle
But those M.L. Leddy boots looked mighty keen
I pulled the Olds on through, and we bid BJ’s adieu
And I put us back onto the street
With those four whitewall tires, we made for McIntire's
To get ourselves a bite to eat
We stopped for some fuel, over near the school
In those days they came right out to you
Best place on Earth, ‘cause with a dollar’s worth
They’d check your oil and clean your window too
The drive-in, painted green, was quite the social scene
With people mingling car to car
Everyone was caring; the drinks they were for sharing
Especially when they were in a mason jar
She ate a big banana split, and then left me for a bit
To comfort an old friend not feeling right
A moment more to linger with that final steak finger
Then I took her home and called that one a night
That was many years ago, but some things you don’t outgrow
And I think back to when I was a teen
When doors were left unlocked, and children safely flocked
Unchaparoned at night on Halloween
And sometimes at night, when the stars are big and bright
And I’m deep in a Texas state of mind
I think of that lass who was in my high school class
And I wonder if she thinks of me in kind
August 10, 2012
Long poem by
Karl Nkecha Safindah | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_a_to_z_of_girls_ive_met__ii_486461' st_title='The A to Z of Girls I've Met II'>
I had gotten to that stage,
Where true love was but a mirage.
When one is hurt too many times
By these daughters of Eve,
The heart must surely cease to give
Until such a time as right
To smile again and see the light.
Miranda, fairest of them all
Adored our trips to the mall.
I could tell from her charming eyes
That her love would be my demise,
So I fled with what coins I had left,
For her love was akin to theft.
That was when I met my Nora.
By all that’s sweet, she had an aura!
Pretty young thing, genteel with her voice,
Of many boys she was the choice.
Flawless, petite, her looks were fine.
I swore by love to make her mine.
Lovely were those nights we shared.
But like I’m sure you must have heard,
The flawless ones are just as marred within.
She had a love affair with gin.
Then came the age of Olivia,
The sight of whom did make me shiver.
Kind with words, light on her feet,
The kind of girl you’d love to meet.
Many were those that saw the sight
Of our love, both day and night.
Looks of envy, of jealousy
I mistook them all to be,
For they were looks of pity,
As it turned out my Olivia
Was liberal with her Banana.
Pauline rescued me from distress,
Mended me like a seamstress.
I gave my heart, to her my all,
I felt so bad she fled with Paul.
Was at the base, looking up,
When I saw a damsel stop.
Lovely, round, Quinta was her name.
Her looks were calm, her manners tame
I really wished she’d stay the same,
But to when she left, from when she came,
Deception was her only game.
My path to love had been so rough,
So hard, rugged, it made me tough.
It wasn’t long ‘fore I met Rose,
Pretty, sweeter by the dose.
To her I took an instant liking.
But once we went bike riding,
She met a long lost cousin,
T’wards whom she showed uncanny liking.
Well, that was fair, or so I thought,
Till the day in bed, them both I caught.
Like I said, I’d become tough
And her little act was not enough
To get this old stallion
Weep from pain and feel alone.
I marched right on.
The wind brought in Sylvia,
So pious, in love with prayer.
Nearly was I fooled
By her style, the way she schooled.
Saintly demon she proved to be,
Sworn to stay the same eternally.
Thelma just didn’t get it right.
She lit a quarrel, then a fight.
Her seasoning too was prone to loiter.
It’s thanks to her I’m free from goiter!
Ursula, a foreign girl I met,
Was close to base and thickly set.
Many were the times her mind was set
On losing all my savings in a bet.
She saw no bars,
She kept no laws.
The time we shared was but a loss.
Why all this fuss?
Why all this pain?
I held them all in such disdain,
And swore by life I would detain
My heart with bonds of chain
Till came that time when girls be sane.
At last it came, or so I thought,
As Vanessa, misfortune brought.
Her looks were fine,
Her smile was nice,
But all she knew to make was rice.
Winifred too followed the cue,
And like you know I wish I knew,
She was a night rider,
A hidden foe, a crouching tiger.
Many were the nights
My phone will ring,
And I’d hear the same song sing:
“Winnie got drunk and hit the gutter,
By all that’s holy, please come get her.”
Xena was one like none I’d met.
She broke a lie without a sweat.
I recall one time I heard
Her on the phone, caught every word.
“Who was that?” I had to ask.
It proved to be no sweating task!
“It was my dad”, I think she said,
But she forgot her dad was dead!
I had to go, I could not stand
The way her stories sank in sand.
Yvonne, this girl I met in school,
Had eyes that made you drool.
I did her bid, I played her fool,
It’s sad to know I was her tool.
Zenobia, legs that wouldn’t stop,
Passed by and made my molars drop!
Scantily clad, she caught my eye,
That’s how it works, don’t ask me why!
I loved her gold and blue hair dye.
This was it, I’d found my love
Sent to me from up above.
But she was a business woman
Out to sell to the richest man.
“Does love exist?” I asked myself.
I should just shove it on a shelf.
Please don’t conclude, don’t get me wrong,
I love the ladies, mind not my song.
Just an art, nothing negative,
So please let’s not get sensitive.
This is fun, it’s all a joke.
That was me just being a bloke!
Long poem by
Louis Borgo | Details |
To know your history is to know your literature a lesson to learn, which will
Stand the test of time and what one founds of their in heritage no matter how enduring and grim it may seem it something you should embrace-
I came from a small city with big roots and routinely I was ask “where are you from”, especially from girls, if it wasn’t that it he thinks he cutie? And I’m asking why I would say something like that. Or He thinks him smart, God!!! I’m just answer the teacher question? But when I got older, older woman told me they probably think that ascent was sexy and I’m thinking where in high school what do they know about sexy? Man is her computer seat warm? America woman I just don’t understand them? I wonder what they do if they heard me speak a few difference language at same time? Thank god I’m quite because it not like they can read my mind. But it got me thinking from and questioning
What I found was the name Borgo had many difference Ethnicity & meaning with it as well as nationalities and that Borgo is Small Island between France and Italy. And if history may not mention it was a Borgia who captured Napoleon? How do I know where did it take place?
No wonder I like Caribbean woman and it is this one that get my heart beat beating up to 400 beats per seconds if that is possible I can’t say it is a forbidden love but what I will say is breaking the ice and melt when think out loud? And yes she knows my name but why ask not why but why are some lyrics so deep my dear? Remember some old friends asking don’t you make beats? As I have some bread and tea.
And that Bourbon is a drink, a Pecan Pie and a Street I’m thinking man if I have girlfriend
What date it would be-
Then I dig deeper and found the prime sources that seem to let to these events the Borgia or borja married into royalty which happen to be Louisa Borgia who married Philp De Bourbon or Philip V of Spain. He was rejected as King Louis legitimate son because born out of wedlock but later accepted but Philp never forgave and where he could have been both king of France and Spain he was just the king of Spain. Question I ask do any one know today the real reason why France has no nationality? Hurtfully to write or hear but i heritage mean full name as should other take to one, I have heard rumors that true bloodlines of nations of Kings that don’t rightfully take the throne it is a reason for that but not my place to say the way history is written is just to say to remember men wrote history but literature holds another tell? Who can tell the differences, but one question for god I always ask
Why so much war my lord, I truly feel like a man without a country and
Just walking away-
I myself never came from money I start literally from nothing but as I got older I was given legitimate connection legitimate ideas and principals and the understanding of wealth but so trying of spending night and days with no day off of a seven day week wonder if I can make those principals work for me as sick as I am there are reason undefined why I do this things and money is not the endorsement my life is more complication then eye may receive to capture but if you listen you learn more than just hand written if you get the drift-
I was never told of my in heritage put as one will it something like a scare or tattoo I had to found to adjust to my nick name is “Jason” but my full name is Louis Antonio Borgo III as I’m about to fall to sleep and lost all aim of conscience I see a email with my full name spell out in Ancestry.com question how did they know I was search for them and if I ever be accepted from this other half as I am a man literally without a country and in love with French woman more than American the phone rings and a woman from Canada called speaking French I drop the phone and finally I fall to sleep and As I sleep dreaming could anyone imagine wanting to go home but where? Remembering the ringing noise of girls ask
” where are you from”...
Long poem by
Roy Jerden | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/keep_it_turnin_to_the_right_412694' st_title='Keep It Turnin' to the Right'>
Oklahoma cowboy, tough coal miner’s son
Born in Henryetta, south of Tulsa some
Raised by daddy’s momma, taught him wrong from right
Daddy taught him ropin’, taught him how to fight
Herding made no money, its stock was really down
Mamaw feeling poorly, dad mining at Old Town
Seventeenth of December, in the year of twenty-nine
Dad was shoring timber, 9th west entry of the mine
The gas ignited close to him, he never smelt its breath
It belched out fire and thunder, and everlasting death
Sixty-one they counted, who wouldn’t see the sun
Twenty-five weren't recognized, they buried them as one
On that fatal Tuesday, the boy became a man
Had to make a living, had to have a plan
Heard about the oil patch, got a chance to try it
Drill the earth for all she’s worth; keep it turnin' to the right
Some they called him weevil, some they called him worm
Some they wouldn't speak to him, figgered he was just short term
They told him "Open up that vee door; go to get the key
It's in the possum belly, in doghouse number three"
Took his turns at floor hand, at first a little green
Became the fastest broke out hand the driller ever seen
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right
The driller called him partner; the pusher called him son
The other roughnecks shook his hand, and took him in as one
Got up on the monkeyboard; learned to spin the chain
Pumped that mud and shed his blood, and worked right through the pain
On a bitter frosty evening tour, in a cold December snow
He saw derricks lit like Christmas trees in distance far below
He saw the fairyland of the refinery, shining through the night
He saw Mother Earth and the universe, all turning to the right
The oil patch was a hard life, moving all the time
But he saved a lot of money, didn't waste a dime
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right
Sent his kids to college, working through the years
One became a teacher, the others engineers
He hung up his hardhat; he shed his steel-toed shoes
Then one day he passed away; he'd finally paid his dues
Made it to the Pearly Gates; they handed him his wings
Handed 'em right back to them; said "I don't need these things.
I want to do some drilling. That's my heavenly plan."
They said "Go talk to the Devil then, cause he's the company man."
Old Scratch needed hellfire; he always come up short
Too many politicians and others of that sort
When he heard they had a driller, he jumped up with delight
He danced a jig, "You've got your rig. Keep it turnin' to the right."
Now he drills for hellfire; in the derrick he's got Jake
Buck and Sam on the platform; Sonny's on the brake
They all grin like demons; they're all where they belong
Doing what they love to do, they sing their roughneck song
"We all eat caliche and drink the devil's brew
Play dominos with Satan and skunk him at forty-two
Work all day on Sunday and honky-tonk all night
We're oilfield trash and we'll take cash to keep it turnin' to the right
We all love West Texas; it's like the Promised Land
Horny toads and rocky roads, and even dunes of sand
Dust storms every morning, northers every night
We get tans and freeze our cans to keep it turnin' to the right"
The lingo used around the rig you won't hear much in church
It'll curl your hair and make you stare and leave you in the lurch
So close your eyes and realize it's gonna get much worse
Drink your beers and plug your ears; here comes the final verse
"We p*ss longneck Lone Stars; we f*rt Frito pie
Give us ****, and we will spit some Red Man in your eye
Don't **** with us, or we will cuss and bring you to the fight
We're low class, but we kick *** to keep it turning to the right"
Coal mining, oil drilling and Hell - Doesn't get much darker and deeper...
Long poem by
Robert Candler | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/went_fishin_547715' st_title='Went Fishin''>
Submitted to the "Gone Fishin" contest
Trollin’ the islands at Texoma,
It was April, 1964.
New rod and reel in hand,
I’d NEVER been fishing before.
A Garcia 2510T casting rod.
The reel, a Mitchell 301,
Plus hand-selected worms and lures…
I was ready to have some fun.
My teacher, a master fisherman,
Had fished all over the earth...
From trout in Austrian mountain streams
To sea bass just west of Perth.
He showed me all the basics,
Including how to tie a lure.
“No snaps. They’re no good.
Tie’em on…just to be sure.”
He made me practice casting.
“Take aim with your rod’s tip
Take her back - ten, eleven, twelve, one;
Smoothly return to ten… with just a little flip.”
While I practiced the casting motion,
He said, “Large Mouths will be jumpin’ bugs.
Water’s bubblin’ with Sand Bass spawnin’.
You’ll know the difference if one gives you a tug.”
As we drifted around the islands,
He said, “I think you’re ready.”
So, I picked a lure, a pretty Heddon;
And tied her on. My hands were steady.
Yellow with black dots and a weed guard.
A streamer tail and double treble hooks.
Who knew if she would do the job,
But I liked the way she looked.
As I tied her on, I looked around
For a likely place for my first cast.
Magazine pictures always showed weeds
In the background of a striking Bass.
So, I picked a reed bed in the shallows;
Threw my first cast, watched her fly.
What happened next was the stuff of dreams.
We couldn’t believe our eyes.
About eighteen inches before she lit,
A monstrous Large Mouth erupted from the water.
My teacher screamed, “Holy Mary, Mother of God!
Kiss O’Reilly’s Ugly Daughter!”
When the Bass broke water, it scared me.
My whole body jerked and shook.
So sudden, so silent, it seemed like slow motion.
Until I heard him screaming, “Set the hook! Set the hook!”
When the big Bass scared me,
I must have set the hook.
The tussle was on, long and hard.
This fish didn’t want to be cooked.
My lack of skills prevailed, however,
As I finally reeled him in;
I grabbed him by the lower lip,
Like I’d seen Don Wallace do, time and time again.
“Oh, my God”, he murmured as he weighed the Bass;
“Jeez. Over thirteen pounds....Thirteen pounds, two.”
He took out his Polaroid and laughed,
“I’ll take a picture of this fish... holdin' you.”
He snapped the picture of me holding the Bass;
On the back wrote the date, the length and weight.
As he turned to put the camera away……
Get ready. This is the part that’s great.
I’d watched Don Wallace ‘catch and release’.
He always did that on his show.
“This fish put up a good fight.” he’d say;
“Now it’s time to let him go.”
Yes, as my teacher put away the camera,
I held the big Bass by the lower lip and tail
And ‘swished’ him in the water,
Making sure his gills would not fail.
My teacher turned and saw what I was doing
Just as I let the big Bass go.
This, too, was like slow motion
As I heard him screaming, “NOOOOOOO!”
“Why would you do that, Lad?
Do ya know nothin’ at all?
A fish like that... on your very first cast?
Well...Lad, that fish goes on the wall.”
“Well…he’ll be here next year.” I said with a smile,
“And even bigger, I’ll bet.”
He said, ”You’ll make a fisherman, Lad.
It’s not for the fish that we fish…
but for the great stories we get.”
I still have that lure…and the rod and reel.
Still in their bags and boxes, just like new.
I thought about selling them on eBay,
But 50 years later, they have sentimental value.
You see…I’ve been invited to go fishin’ several times
By golfin’ buddies and other friends;
But for some reason…I really don’t know why…
I’ve never gone fishin’ again.
They say, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
And I believe that is a fact.
I hope you enjoyed this bit of truth and,
In the meantime…..”Ya’ll come back!”
Long poem by
Rosy Love | Details |
The True Story Of Ariel
You know the story 'bout Ariel
The one that’s on the Disney cereal
Who came to the happy soppy ending
With the prince and herself winding up kissing?
Well, it’s about time you knew the truth:
That story is faker than any gran’s tooth!
It’s just a lie grown-ups tell to keep you happy
When you’re feeling exceptionally cross and snappy.
But now, I’m going to tell you the true one,
So you’d better get ready and spit out that chew-gum.
‘Cause I’m sure, I guarantee,
That after I'm done, you’ll feel sick as can be.
The tale got all right until the part
Explaining why Ariel was last to depart
From her mermaid sisters, to the land
To see the seashore’s sparkling sand.
“So why?” You cry, “What’s wrong with that?”
I’m about to explain- hold on to your hat.
It was definitely NOT because she was the youngest-
It was just another tale spun to trick the youngsters.
The truth was: She had a gruesome habit
Of burping out loud whenever she felt it!
It was because of this revolting reason
That the merking didn’t want to send her packin’
In case she met a dignified person.
But alas! He couldn’t keep her forever;
She zoomed off with a shake and a waver.
She shot up, past seaweed and coral and grass,
Until she came to the surface at last.
But just then she got the bubbly feeling
That she always got just before burping.
So she let go- there was a boom!
That sent the fish scattering back to their rooms,
That vibrated the water for miles around,
And through hollow caves did the boom resound.
Just at this moment, the prince was aboard
A little sailboat, complete with his sword.
For he had decided to take a stroll
To relax after a lesson of arrow & bow.
He had just settled down, and was whizzing gleefully
When the force of the explosion knocked him clean into the sea.
His sword flew away to god-knows-where,
His belt got caught in Ariel’s hair.
“Yippee!” she cried, “A human being!
Why, I can hardly believe what I’m seeing!”
But the prince, poor thing, he was half dead,
Being choked by the water and bashed on the head.
While the wicked Ariel was saying,
“Why, I’ve always wanted one for a pet!
I think I shall keep him in a net!”
And with that she dragged the poorly prince
Deep into the mermaid realms.
She carefully hid him in her closet
For fear that the merking might find and see it.
Then she rummaged under her bed, threw out a flask,
And at last retrieved an oxygen mask.
She crammed it onto the prince’s face,
Much to the fainted prince’s distaste.
The prince, after a while, finally came to,
Princess Ariel, delighted, gave a loud “Ooohh!”
“You’ve woken up!” she cried joyfully,
“From now on I shall call you Barnaby!”
The prince tried to tell her his name was Eric,
But she simply said, “Don’t speak, my chick,”
And swam away with a swish of her frock.
Oh! The horror! Oh! The shock!
The prince felt thunder-struck by it all,
He wished someone would hear his feeble call.
But the sea was thick as custard pie,
And no one could hear his strangled cry.
But alas! The oxygen in the mask
Couldn’t, as you well know, forever last.
The prince soon became dizzy from the lack of air,
He gasped and choked and tore at his hair.
He ripped at the net with all his might,
But the seaweed was set stronger than granite!
At that moment his breath he could no longer hold,
And I’m sorry to say he died-not exactly strong and bold.
Now I’m sorry to tell
That this is the true, gruesome tale
Of the burp-burping, prince-napping Ariel.
Long poem by
Robert Candler | Details |
Bob had a special talent
That only worked in his men’s store.
He had ‘clothing ESP’.
He knew what his customers wanted…and more.
When customer would come into his store
Bob would invariably say,
“Hello. I'm Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
And he was always right,
Never missed a color, fabric, style or size.
He even knew the necessary alterations.
Customers couldn’t believe their ears and eyes.
Meanwhile, in another part of town,
Joe had a pounding, relentless migraine
For every minute for more than five years,
It had driven him near insane.
He’d lost his job to the pain.
Then, he lost his wife.
He had lost a lot of weight and rarely slept.
Yes, his was a miserable life.
And, of course, sex was out of the question…
Even a little self-abuse.
There was nothing left for Joe but pain.
He felt his life was of no use.
So, Joe went to his doctor.
“Doc, please help me end this pain.
Give me something to make me sleep
And never wake up again.”
“You know I can’t assist your suicide.”,
Then he looked sad, perhaps ashamed.
“I never dreamed it would last five years,
But I know how to end the pain.”
“You can make it go away?!
Tell me, Doc! What’s the word?”
“I’ll have to remove your testicles.”
Was the last thing that Joe heard.
But…when he came to, it struck him.
Sex was out of the question anyway;
But he might enjoy his meals again,
And he could sleep for days.
“Please check me in, Doc.
This opportunity I cannot shirk.”
So, the doctor removed his testicles.
He did his very best work.
A few days later, Joe waddled along,
Headache free and feeling pretty nice;
But every attractive woman he saw
Reminded him of his sacrifice.
He decided it was appropriate
To do something nice for himself for a change.
So, he went into a travel agency;
And a six month cruise he arranged.
As he left the travel agency,
He was excited, feeling ready to go;
But for such a glorious adventure,
He would need new clothes.
As he walked along, he saw Bob’s Men's Store.
He walked in, only to hear Bob say,
“Hello. I’m Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
“How could you know?” asked Joe.
“It’s a gift. I don’t know how, but I do.
You’ve suffered five years with an ailment,
Found relief, so now you’re taking a cruise.”
Joe could not believe his ears.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"You're right! That's amazing!
And I'm going to need new clothes."
Bob then laid out a fabulous wardrobe
All the right colors, fabrics, styles…and each size.
Joe was incredibly impressed.
He could hardly believe his ears and eyes.
“How do you like the wardrobe?”
“It’s wonderful!” Bob could see that Joe was pleased.
“Now,” said Bob, “What about undergarments;
You know…shorts and tees?
Let’s see…medium crew neck tees, all cotton.
I believe that you prefer white….
And jockey shorts, all cotton…. 34s.
Yes, I'm sure that’s right.”
Joe beamed, “You’re an amazing talent
And I just this second realized,
You've laid out this entire wardrobe
And only missed one size.”
Bob, surprised by his mistake, asked, “Really?
What did I miss? I did my best for you.”
“Well…you’re right.” said Joe, “I do wear Jockeys,
But…well…I wear 32s.
“Oh, no!” said Bob with an ugly grimace.
“That would be a serious mistake.
Thirty-twos would be too small,
They would cramp your balls.
You’ll get migraine headaches.”
Long poem by
Carol Eastman | Details |
It was a dark and moonless night. The lights were out. The TV low.
My hubby and I were relaxed, cuddled close, as the TV set the room aglow.
The telly had a “Flying Saucer Abduction”, with popcorn, we watched the scene unfold.
Suddenly the dogs perked up, began to bark, then ran in circles to and fro.
Confusion, and worries abounded, as we quieted them with a gentle no.
Then checking the door, we listened to see what would make them act just so.
Slowly, from out of nowhere, we heard a hum, building louder and wildly free.
A fluid vibration was moving around us and through the house, gaining on its spree.
Then as it began to travel thru both of us, a growing Fear came to be…
As it gripped us in the palm of its hand, I feared, surely… it was beckoning me!
We began to wonder what it could be: a transformer, the furnace, or an alien? Could be…
What on earth could be so strong, to cause the humming to hang in the air so free?
It seemed to be controlled by a mysterious hand, and this we were going to see.
Fear ran free, and we made the decree… to find it quickly… or quickly flee.
Was the furnace ready to explode? From the basement and hubby came the word, no!
We both ran outside in force. But the humming disappeared out there, of course. So…
We ran from the dark outside, to hear it again, clearly, where we abide within, it built.
Into the kitchen I quickly ran… But everything was quiet and still… again!
I ran the stairs toward to where my kids did abide, with my heart worried and chilled.
I determined to follow the hum to its end and save my children, that… I would fulfill.
What would we find? We didn’t know, or really want to know, ere our fear could unfold.
The kids were up stairs oblivious to this, as we ran from room to room, nothing to behold.
In my son’s room at the end of the hall, the noise became unbearably loud, as it flowed.
We searched every corner not sure what we’d find, electrical, mechanical, ready to blow?
His game and earplugs kept him oblivious and out of the know…
So we figured he wasn’t the culprit…for once purer than the driven snow.
The humming was growing louder with time… it seemed the roof was the end of the line.
But now our imaginations were in full bloom… A transformer, or alien? We were running out of time!
But somehow that didn’t seem right… we did know… so perhaps soon a fire to fight?
We were now determined… to evacuate everyone to safety, into the night…
Suddenly, we found the Nemesis laying in wait. It was in the bathroom singing to us.
And no, truly I’m not making this up. The bathroom was making us run amuck.
Dripping water was vibrating the pipes. The sound was traveling a resonance throughout the house. Yes… by plumbing… we’d been struck!
My hubby adjusted the float in the toilet you see…. And miraculously the noise simply ceased to be…
Finally we sat down with a sigh, looked at each other, and laughed, as we finished that show…
But what a night that had been! Never had a movie ever entertained us or moved us so…
Especially to such a foolish extreme! Yes, and to this I have to say…
Never before had a toilet… so thoroughly…Yanked our chain! … Happy Halloween!
By Mike and Carol Eastman… A real happening…
Long poem by
Wayne Riley | Details |
A bullfrog and a butterfly both chanced upon each other.
‘My dear, you are an ugly beast!’ the bullfrog dared to utter.
‘Why froggy,’ gasped the butterfly, astounded by his words.
‘My beauty is unparallel while yours is so absurd!’
‘Ha – ha! Ho – ho!’ laughed froggy so, and with a knowing look, began to tell the butterfly about a guy called Chuck.
His name was really Annabella, a princess not a common fella.
The fairest in the fairest land. with skin of silk and hair of sand.
‘This princess had a Stepmom, queer,’ whispered froggy in old butty’s ear.
She was in fact a wicked witch, who once threw Anna down a ditch,
And with a hocus – pocus spell turned Anna into a frog as well.
Then leaving on her horse and broom she bode poor Anna a life of gloom.
To which the girl did not respond, instead she went and found a pond,
And there she stayed alone and blue and ribbit-ed like froggies do.
Until one day a handsome prince called out towards his squire Vince,
‘young lad remove me from this saddle so i can yonder off and paddle.
And so the squire did as was told and copped the Prince a mighty hold,
Allowing him as Princes are, to paddle eating caviar.
‘Oh woe is me!’ the prince spat out. ‘This caviar has got no clout. It’s only good enough for Ted. The dog i left at home in bed.’
‘What i need is some tasty meat, cuisses de grenoville – a frog to eat.’
Just then, not hearing what was said, poor Anna popped up and ribbit-ed.
‘Please save me from this rotten hell. A kiss is what will break this spell.’
But Anna’s words fell on deaf ears and left her very close to tears.
For Princey in his Royal haste swept Anna up to have a taste,
and there above his hairy lips, Anna dangled from his fingertips.
'Goodbye you glumptious grotty frog, prepare to go inside my gob.'
But Anna, being quick as quick, knew something of a party trick.
And stretching in a ballet pose she swiftly bit off half his nose.
'Oh sacra bleu!' the Prince spat out. 'This creatures eaten half my snout.
My handsome hooters all but gone! A prince without a schnauzers wrong.'
Young Vince, his squire had up till now, been watching like a dozy Cow.
When suddenly, with one big volley, he knocked poor Anna off her trolley.
'Take that!' you nasty noshing frog. He said, as Anna hit a log.
'No froggies gonna eat my mate,' he parried, getting quite irate.
and ending with a little flurry, like Ali, only in a hurry.
The wicked spell was somehow broke, and Anna not a froggy spoke.
'Oh what a simply horrid guy you are to make a Princess cry.
For Princess that is what i am, and not some froggy from Japan.
My wicked stepmom cast a spell and wished that i would rot in hell.
But luck is luck and who would knows, by chomping on your bosses nose,
I'd once again be Annabella. A Princess not a froggy fella.
The moral, and I'm sure I'm right, is goodness always comes out right.'
The words that prissy Princess spoke, did nothing for that Princey bloke,
For having lost his Royal beak, he had no time for moral speak.
Instead he took his vorpal sword and snicker snacked the lousy broad,
displaying as he liked to do, the courage of his 'derring- do!
Long poem by
DARREN WATSON | Details |
Such a beautiful morning
So quiet and serene
Contented and yawning
I'm living the dream.
I lie back in my deckchair
Emitting a contented sigh
When landing on my chest from nowhere
Came an exquisite butterfly.
The butterfly landed upon my hairy chest
I looked at it’s exquisite beauty it really was the best
It nestled in quite gently then fluttered in the air
When a beautiful young lady came running past my chair
She really scored a perfect ten - my jaw was open wide
I wanted nothing more than to have this beauty by my side
I stood and showed my great physique and strutted round with pride
I wanted this lady for myself one day she'd be my bride
The butterfly heard my heart beating so strong
It lifted its gossamer wings and the butterfly was gone
As if giving thanks to my exquisite guest
I caress the spot where he came to rest
Whispering my gratitude for him revealing to me
The beautiful face of my bride to be
Now he danced on her breast and she wasn't wearing a bra
What jammy gits those butterflies are.
Our hearts beat fast and they entwined
We went to a restaurant and wined and dined
It was a special moment I didn’t want to miss
For there we shared our very first kiss
One thing lead to another and we headed to my room
I grabbed my little blue pill – I wanted va va vroom
This stunning young lady pulled me swiftly to her chest
I could feel her heart beating underneath her thermal vest
Ok Daz I'll put you through your paces
Suspend you from the lampshade by your braces
Set you bouncing then i'll slip under
but was it worth it I'm starting to wonder
All that gossip is just idle chatter
I have to inform you, size does matter
When I agreed to this afternoon of sin
I never thought I'd ask , is it in ?
But Jan sweetheart, Please hear my rebuttal
That wasn't my willy, Just my belt buckle
Now I'm determined you will feel my passion
Flip you over and we'll do it doggie fashion
A contented smile replaces the scowling
The janitor rings, Will you two stop howling?
We are perfect together but I know after tonight
There is just no way you can get married in white.
Oh Darren my darling forgive me I pray
I’m not after marriage, just a roll in the hay
I’m sorry if you were after any more
But after a few days I’ll find you a bore
Come back to bed and let us not linger
You now know I don’t want a ring on my finger
I hate to feel you have been mislead
Lets just have a little more fun in this bed
Just like a man I'm becoming possessive
In pursuit of my goal I'm vain and aggressive
Wishing to own you to declare you are mine
Wanting a wife not a concubine
Not seeing the faults and the change in me
I take your hand and fall on one knee
Presenting the ring I bought from EBAY
We can marry next week Jan, What do you say.
Oh Darren in you I must confide
I can never ever be your bride
Although you think my name is Jan
Before the op my name was Stan
I thought I really must confess
Before our lives become a mess
I think we have reached the journeys end
I will never forget you my handsome young friend
By Jan Allison and Darren Watson