~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first, a kiss of morning dew~
then hunger. Orange teeth that chew
through girders, bolts, and battleships,
through forgotten coins, through fingertips.
Patient as a waiting noose,
it loves the things we let slip loose:
the tractor in the broken field,
the knife no hand will ever wield.
It writes in cursive, slow and deep,
a love the strong pretend to keep.
Time’s own tongue, it licks the edge
of every vow, each steadfast pledge.
And when at last we all descend
to join the nails we failed to mend,
rust will sing its lullaby~
soft, so soft, the way things die.
The donkey brays;
the elephant trumpets,
and the herds remain unprotected
from the wolves and the jackals.
What game shall we play;
pin the tail on the Donkey
or Elephants can't remember?
It's a barrel of monkeys
playing let's sink the battleships
while wearing blindfolds all around.
Trying to understand at such a young age,
She will have to know at some stage,
Transformed, changed, different identity,
Pleasing and pleading, needing to flee,
Good friends, more than friends,
Touch of lips into heaven it sends,
Trying to grasp tightly on self-control,
All a lost cause, swallowing me whole,
Key in the lock was hurtful,
Like banging your knee on a stool,
The betrayal lying right at my fingertips,
A lethal haven, tanks and battleships,
Muddled words on the tongue,
After that, it’s all just sung,
Banished from the Estate of Emotion,
Thrown to the sharks luring in the ocean,
Curses while on stage,
Into the microphone, caged,
Hateful glares pitched my way,
Soul disintegrated. Gone. Decayed,
When she was in the second grade
the clouds were ivory castles in the sky
& bugs were for collecting instead of stomping
& fireflies were lighthouses for bees,
her wizened maths and grammar teacher, who forgot
that sticks are swords, sharp as imagination
& the feeling of hitting river rocks with a baseball bat
& couches were battleships on hardwood oceans,
told her that you couldn’t stand on clouds
& that you can’t eat ants even if they taste like lemons
& that ‘being a house cat’ wasn’t a real career choice
Sometimes I feel we’d be a little better off
if we just sent kids outside instead of school.
Who knows? If we did I could be writing this
from my royal room in a castle in the sky
or collecting bruises from blades of elm and oak
drifting in nostalgic currents from lighthouse to
lighthouse as I reach for another handful of ants
Baseless Battleships Bear Brokeness But
Hearts Heal Harmoniously ~
Thus Teaching Timeously
28 June 2022
Our strength is in our morals and ethics
Not in weapons, battleships, or planes
Belief in the freedoms innate in every man
Our faith in what's right and good sustains.
The bulwark of our international respect
Democracy depends on a bold endeavor
To stand for justice in a troubled world
Where the flag waves for every brother
And sister, free to be all they can be
While holding high the banner of liberty.
written October 18, 2021
Arms, legs,
fists, feet,
beating chests;
teeth meet.
Stones, bones,
sharp-honed tusks,
poisoned darts;
obsidian clubs.
Slings, arrows,
outrageous bows,
black-edged flints;
sharp-pointed swords.
Red-glare rockets,
gold knightly spears,
squat-humped cannons;
trebuchets.
Muskets, pistols,
bayonet rifles,
spitting Maxims;
Tommy guns.
Gray battleships,
deep submarines,
articulated tanks;
V-ones, V-twos.
Experimental Zeppelins,
jet-fighter planes,
flying forts;
atomic bombs.
Poison gas,
Laser rays,
will it ever end;
the race?
Where’s the tweeting? I have heard,
From POTUS, not a single word.
It’s really quite a lovely change –
My pressure’s in the normal range.
Not lies to set my blood to boil;
No barbs from which we must recoil.
No single put-down, not one smirk –
For us, another losing perk.
His lackeys, too, have sealed their lips,
Still stuck on sinking battleships.
Their gutlessness prevents congrats
To all the winning democrats.
Today is quiet in the news
And whether you sport reds or blues
I’ll bet you’ll find your day complete
Without another ******* tweet.
Why do we need all these weapons of war,
Or to go into space so man can explore
Instead spend the billions in finding a cure.
This virus is out there,
And travelling fast,
Nobody knows how long it will last.
It doesn't care who we are,
What colour,creed,or race,
It's taking all these lives right now
And laughing in our face.
So let's put our heads together
Join forces and find a cure,
We don't need rockets,guns or battleships
It's a different kind of war
POETRY JOURNAL.
I have self published.i wrote,typed,printed,
Then bound my book myself.
'Midst cannon smoke the sun arose, blood red
To spread the night's cold horrors on the bay
Our tattered sails waved farewells to the dead
Rain washing both our blood and shame away
No more would beasts of war be freed or fed
Or mankind's conscience let such madness lay.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Each Letter Threads The Verse" Poetry Contest, Joseph May, Judge & Sponsor.
* This is a form called "The Harrisham Rhyme", created by Harrisham Minhas, from Punjab, India. It is a six-line poem with the rhyme scheme: ababab. In this form, the last letter of the first word of each line, is the first letter of the first word of the next line. I hope you enjoy it! *
I see it tied up to its pier,
steel monolith, huge and grey,
the USS Massachusetts,
now a museum by the quay.
Big sixteen-inch guns are silent,
the five-inchers point to the sky,
kids play on the forty-mil guns,
shooting phantom planes as they fly.
Tourists walk this leviathan,
product of my grandfather’s age,
he served then, in the Pacific,
might have seen the ship’s cannons rage.
His great-grandchildren scamper ’round,
one tries to lift the anchor chain,
each link outweighs him massively,
but the boy still tries all the same.
Above the superstructure stands,
a massive, armored sentinel,
as if guarding Fall River,
should any not wish the town well.
As if those big guns are waiting,
to swing up, belch fire again,
a dragon floating on water,
built proud by the hardest of men.
I know she won’t fight anymore,
by modern ships she is outclassed,
yet looking at her, most admit:
that battleships feel more bad-ass.
In a battleship war
Admirals looked for advantage
The best position be in
Is to cross the T
When the enemy is inline
Steaming towards you
Your battleships should be
In front of the first enemy ship
And steaming across the enemy’s line
This means all your guns can fire
On the first enemy ship in line
And blow it out of the water.
© Paul Warren Poetry
TO BE FREE
flag flaps
like a fresh sheet
on a chilly Winter day
red and white stripes
like the sound of sails
all fifty stars
stay in place
like battleships
this grand old flag
threaded with meaning
sold as a freedom wannabe
those stripes on frightened backs
the same stars both could see
for some resided level with their heads
others had stars in their eyes
like malignant scars
the flag continued its lengthy voyage
one day it had a dream
striped red lips almost smiled at the thought
we each look up
at the stars and stripes
patriotic flight
we balance on its wings
the wings of an eagle
the American dream
to be free
7/11/2017
free verse
Innocent me for never taken
Not swaddle towards your charm
Thus not some girl but then became
On your paper thin ways
Your swagger is like a dagger
In a web of lust and many seeds
I will not be growing a flower
You said thy did to not cheat nor beat
Within codes of lies and battleships
Everything ended, love you was my lie
I love thoughts of what a thought
Lies i told myself
As I was innocently denying
You was a lying
I sit hear pen and heart change
You don't own my present,
Cause i will be someone present
As you'll be someone thrift store find
AN INVOLUNTARY TRIP
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
My warm gestation vacation was up, water had bust
Into this cruel and unmerciful planet, I had been thrust
Now alone, to find people and things, that I might trust
Would have been easy if were in, with the upper crust
On my own I discovered there not many, of any, to trust
Quickly became aware, go with the flow, learn to adjust
Got some habits, deception, dishonesty, envy and lust
A good fit with usual crowd, acting innocent n august
Accumulate treasure, dismiss if ethical, legal or just
Join the “in” people, tho some act in regurgitative disgust
No matter how full your coffers, getting more is a must
The more treasure I gained, the more I began to mistrust
Mighty battleships, now gone, obsolete, victims of rust
Stature means nothing: ashes to ashes, dust to dust
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