Best 5Th Poems
Laughing, dancing, having the time of her life,
Faerie Fun went from mushroom house to toadstool cottage,
Spreading joy,
Playing with everyone
In a kind and pleasant way.
There was going to be no sadness
In Faerie Forest today if she could help it.
It is up to me, she said.
I am the catalyst for happiness today.
She ate breakfast with the Nymph family,
And they laughed about silly stuff,
But no people.
She watched Lila Leprechaun’s Lilliput dance,
And she clapped and clapped while
Mama Leprechaun took care of the
Unhappy baby. Baby calm. All is well.
Faerie Fun was soon skipping
Up the walk to the most challenging
House of all.
Change your attitude! She warned herself.
Change your attitude!
Her jaw was clamped tightly shut now, and she
Was already filled with dread.
Pixie Dust! Her internal voice yelled. NOW!
The sparkly particles surrounded her, and settled down all over her, calming her instantly, and
Changing her attitude from not-so-great to wonderful.
Before she left Grump-Eater’s house, he gave her a long, lingering hug. No one gets me like you, he said.
Progress at last.
Sometimes it is simply a matter of us changing our attitude.
Secretly, I watch the neighbors,
From my well-advantaged location.
Mrs. G. is complaining about her husband to Mrs. S.
No one's drama is ever as vivid as Mrs. G's.
They full-body laugh, tongues out.
Mr. P. is going to be late for supper again;
I can hear Mrs. P. cussing.
At 4:15 I hear the all-day waited slam of a backdoor.
My girl is running toward me, flat out.
She is carrying a white pillow and gray blanket.
There's a plastic bag swinging from her arm as she climbs.
Prior experience tells me the sack holds a book, a drink
and her favorite sandwich - mayonnaise, peanut butter and lettuce.
After smashing a few ants on my floor, the girl flops down,
and begins to read.
I smile as she devours the sandwich like a young starving wolf.
She's ten, the perfect age to devour.
Every day is the same except Saturday.
On Saturday my girl spends the whole day inside me,
reading two to three books at a time.
It is our favorite day.
Her sister runs out sometimes and begs the girl to play,
but we are fighting pirates, conquering Asia, taming macaws.
We are so in tune, she and I.
When I hear "CANDICE MILLIE STREET COME IN IMMEDIATELY!"
I know my girl has to climb down and run for the house,
leaving me alone,
to spy on the neighbors.
Date: 8/28/2018 What the Hell Throw One In John Lawless, Sponsor
I had an alien for two weeks before I realized how unusual she was.
I wish I could be a mouse in the corner, I had said, and I was.
My alien gave me a cracker, patted me on the head, and reminded me
Once again, how important it is to keep her earth-visit quiet from the masses.
I nibbled on the cracker nervously, wondering how long I would be stuck
Wearing this smelly fur suit, dragging this ugly super long tail?
Praying that Shark, my killer cat was out hunting somewhere else.
Poof! I was back in my normal body.
What other talents do you have? I asked my alien friend.
Not in words because aliens from the two-galaxies-over talk in thoughts.
I am a tripartite, she tele-pathed to me.
What’s that?
Her body immediately transmogrified into three separate, untouching-pieces.
Before I could close my shocked wide-open mouth, she had transmuted back into one complete alien.
Can you disappear? I asked her.
That was the last I ever saw of her.
Some days, however, I feel that she is here, invisible, watching me,
On those days, I wonder if I am going to find
Myself munching on a cracker.
I held a grudge 'til four o'clock
And then I watched TV.
Remembered it at nine.
It very much hurt me.
Took grudge to bed and nurtured it.
Next to my favorite pajamas and pillow.
Added a bit of exasperation and sass to it.
Bigger now, it scratches me rough like brillo.
Took it out and shook it every hour.
Woke up in a terrible bad mood.
Sad I had allowed it all this power.
Glad I fed it no food.
The witch and the tiger sat on opposite sides of the moon,
Starring at each other, wondering who would eat whom
The witch was cagey, wily and wicked,
And she had magic powers, so she was not afraid.
The moon shook the witch off.
She had a broom, which she grabbed at the last minute.
The tiger was fierce and majestic.
He had sun-like yellow eyes, and stripes that moved.
The moon was going to let the tiger stay,
But something weird happened.
The tiger gave the moon a little bite
Because that is what a tiger does.
So the moon shook the tiger off too
Luckily, the tiger had wings, and flew.
So you never know
How a story will end.
In the breathing forest came memories of my youth,
Nothing more than happiness shadowed by the truth.
The rising sun pulchritudinous like the smile on her face,
Let me think of her once more of pure and simple grace.
In the center of the wood lived a solemn rose,
Surrounded by a cruel weed which prohibited it to grow.
The weed was not considerate only thinking of itself,
Hurt the little rose not caring of how it felt.
Now the rose has grown up and overtowers the weed,
Making it undernourished and causing it to bleed.
Through tolerance and patience the rose has been well fed,
And for the spiteful weed, he gained a brand new bed.
Glancing to the falling moon, I've realized what I've done,
I've killed my inner self by following the sun.
I only hope that things will change far before the end,
So that the enemy I have gained will turn to be my friend.
1989
Seventh Place
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 15 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Third Place
YOUR PERSONAL FAVORITE, NO. 2
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Santa Claus’s Elves were dancing and singing
Beautiful gifts they were aptly bringing.
Warm fireplace heated the workshop cozy.
Red poinsettia the Christmas posy.
Melodic singing as angels got near.
Highest of high, feature Jesus so dear.
Holy feelings felt by reindeer outside.
Christmas happiness way down deep inside.
Joy, hope, unity and faith in the air.
The presents all wrapped with ultimate care.
Merry Christmas! Santa yelled out so clear.
Gave a squeeze to the wife, Mrs. Claus dear.
December twenty-fourth, a busy night.
I smiled as I watched them fly out of sight!
A fox was a kit and a dog was once a puppy.
Don’t throw a fit, but a fish was never a guppy.
A horse was a colt. And a hen was always a chick.
How about banana split’s scoop, could we call it a lick?
A butterfly was a caterpillar,
A green spotted frog was a polliwog.
A child was a well-loved neonate,
Piglet was once the name of a giant hog.
Fawn instantly tells you something of his age,
Pony is not an indicator at all.
Lamb gives you a wonderful clue so sage.
Animals are delightful to me, big and small.
When I was little I thought the older a person was, the more brain cells you grew.
Thus, older people are smarter than little people.
That thought was long gone by the time I was four or five.
At eight I was so confused by big hand and little hand on the clock, I thought I would lose my mind.
Big hand to me was little hand, because the big hand they were talking about was the thin longer hand.
Thinner to me meant little, not big.
The thick hand they were calling little hand actually should have been referred to as short hand, but it
Was not. To the big people it was little hand. To me it was big hand because it was the fattest hand.
I did not know how to tell time for about a hundred years, because it did not make sense!
I could not get it, so of course, this was the unit I was elected to teach when I was a student teacher.
And for those of you who like math, do you understand a bit more why the word math strikes terror in my soul?
Big hand. Little hand. Good golly, Miss Molly.
If they had only used short hand, and long hand I would have immediately understood
Because I KNEW words.
Not math, not telling time, not numbers, but I did know words.
Teaching me to tell time would have been insanely simple, if the right words could have been used!
Why did they not understand what I was trying to figure out?
Because they did not LISTEN to me.
I was a child, after all.
A child who knows her words.
Big hand for long hand?
Long hand for big hand?
Everyone was too busy shaking their head and telling me ‘no’ to realize what I was saying.
Listen people, listen, because your children are smarter than you know, and they are
Trying to talk.
As a poet
you have the right
to remain silent.
If you give up that right.
Anything you say
can and will be used
in the court of public opinion.
You have the right to use
a computer keyboards.
If you cannot afford one,
a pen with a piece of paper
will be provided for you.
You have the right to speak like an Attorney,
to take your readers on a trip or a journey.
Giving them a feeling of anticipation.
Using words out of context or connotation,
or use long words like conversation.
You have the right to give feelings a voice,
to express yourself in every
kind and category of poetry,
or muster a musical group
like the one called Floetry.
You have the right, to recite, day or night
to speak out loud! in front of a crowd!
To make yourself heard!
With the freedom of the spoken word!
To stand and proclaim, to entertain,
Or choose the words to describe your pain!
You, have the right to complain.
Know that for you, no subject is taboo.
Only season your words with grace,
as you may have to eat them,
if they are thrown back in your face.
Since Mexico cast off the French
Make sure a Corona to clench
And forgo the Merlot
On Cinco de Mayo
But buy beer which can a thirst quench
Squirrel’s friendly kisses,
Squirrel’s loving squeeze.
Squirrel’s touch just misses.
Squirrel, if you please!
We are playing surprise?
Squirrel’s paws on my eyes.
I am supposed to guess?
Up in this squirrel nest?
Squirrel of my dream,
You are making me beam.
You are a shining star,
I know which one you are.
A yawn went through the shop that day,
loudly and proudly, and I could not get away.
I watched it coming, flowing mouth to mouth,
first it went east, and then it turned south.
I tried to run, but it caught me as I turned a corner.
A little girl yawned big before I could warn her.
It is weird how powerful a yawn can be.
I believe it got all of us and there were at least twenty-three.
I tried to escape before it entered its second round,
but I did not get far as this is a very small town.
jampacked city streets
that jangled and banged
in the raucous jarring day
shifted
from business to boogaloo
squeezing into moonlight
party lights
gin and lime-kissed
gimlet sequined dress
strutted
in studded six-inch heels
riveting flair
provoking jive and jazzy nights
to tame this lion of New York
The bed swallowed the evening
sucked-up in slumbered
sobering snooze
exhaling the drunkard’s stench
while the warmth of whiskey
and you next to me
laid dreamy still
popped up and propped up
restless and ragged
realizing the changing view
through the dirt-stained window
a pool of placid sunrise
igniting
colorless clustered towers
bulwarks and girders
scraping the sky
out of the easterly clouds
a creeping golden palette
arose
touching every crevice
defining each silhouette
your body stirs deliberate and slow
rainbow hued eyes
slenderly slitted catching
the new-found light
opening, tenderly revealing
the landscape of your smile
disclosing
a cozy contentment
waking with hello
as I fall into your dream
and a new day
Jellyfish sandwiches delicately sliced.
Two or three on a plate, scrumptious and nice.
Eat them with pinkies, raised high and proud.
Please ignore the screaming; they are ridiculously loud.