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Details | All Wet Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Leaves talking

As long as I can remember
I have been green and on this branch.
They tell me soon I will become tinged,
Glow bright red,
Burn orange,
Or shine like gold.
I can hardly wait!

And soon after I shall
Embark on that journey
They have been talking about,
And I am a bit scared.
A wind will come, they say,
And rip me away,
Fling me wildly into the air,
Whirl me around in mad dance,
Toss me, smash me,
Lash me
With rain
Before I crash
To the ground
All wet and ripped.

But maybe, some say,
On a quiet sunny day,
A tiny breeze, almost unnoticed,
Will gently pluck me off,
And I shall sail on the air,
Swaying to and fro,
And descend softly
Onto a rustling pile.

September 14, 2016
For contest: Leaves Talking
Sponsor: John lawless
1st place

Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2016

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My Big Fat Cousin's Wedding

My favorite cousin named Marge is almost as big as a barge. So one would assume, not knowing the groom, the guy would most likely be large. But he was a small man named Tim “As thin as a broom” describes him. While Marge would guffaw, Tim would watch her with awe and just smile for he was so prim! When the preacher addressed him and said, “You may now kiss the bride,” Tim turned red, for their lips could not meet. With high heels on her feet, Marge stood towering over his head. She leaned down while Tim stood on his toes, but for being in such a strange pose, Marge then came toppling down crushing Tim neath her gown while the whole church erupted in “Ohhhhh’s.” All was well, and thereafter, we ate; then we planned next to dance until late. But none could foresee the small tragedy that had us all leaving by eight! Marge had tossed off her heels for a glide on the dance floor, but when they both tried to dance, Tim got snagged by that dang gown and dragged as his bride was beginning to slide. . . Now shoeless, poor Marge could not stop. Toward a table with candles on top, they slid, and the groom then set fire to the room by landing with a belly flop. Poor Tim by the candles got lit, and we were all having a fit, for the fire got spread fast till the Best Man at last got us all wet extinguishing it! Inspired by the title of the movie: My Big Fat Greek Wedding & : Joann Grisetti's "My Cousin's Wedding" Poetry contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012

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Her Way

There once was a time
I called you just about every day
Years ago, that almost feel like yesterday
My friends may have thought I was a mama's boy
But that was okay
I'd call you anyway
Always interested in what you had to say

Now I ponder the time I've wasted
The hours I've lost
I guess living life has a cost
As within daily living we're tossed
Grown up problems and being bossed
Getting older 
Hair turning to frost

I might call less
But you I'd never forget
Loving you is a sure bet
I know you will always listen
Whether I'm happy or upset
You're the one in my corner
When others think I'm all wet

Other's might have frilly moms
I love that you are strong
Your hugs one of my favorite things
They make me feel like I belong
So important
When sometime things go wrong
I know that you and me will always get along

So on this coming mother's day
I'll give thanks as I pray
Appreciative that you are more than okay
You are a one of a kind
My favorite 
A true original
Better than Frank Sinatra
No apologies
Wonderful woman
Doing it your way!

I love you mom
Happy Birthday!

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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Her wave

How strikingly gray
as the spring rain 
to the ground

The green
and brown
all wet
no glittering from
the sun's wink

I walk
not skip today
and the train
slowly slips away

So drifts
her wave

*Lyric: As in, 'Poetry Soups', Thoughts of the poet

Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2011

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Wintry night, the clouds were churning
While the lightning lit the sky
The old house it shook and trembled 
As the howling wind went by.

I put out the waning candle
Total darkness all around
It felt cold, in bed I snuggled
Heard the thunder’s drawling sound.

It took ages till I drifted 
Into rough and restless sleep
When at once I felt me falling
Down a tunnel deep and steep.

Chilly hands wrapped tight around me
Felt the breathing of a ghost;
In a daze it tugged and led me
To the open ragged coast.

Had no strength or will to struggle
The cold water dragged me down
Uncontrolled the helpless feeling
Of a man about to drown.

Then I woke all of a sudden
And I saw the dawning light
Found myself all wet and sweaty
From the dream I had that night.

So relieved! I felt elated.
What an ugly fright I’d had.
Then I looked and saw beside me 
Soaking seaweed on the bed!!

23rd October 2014
Contest: Ghosts Stories
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Placed: 4th

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014

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Cry-Baby Cat

Cry Baby Cat, was a stray that turned up wailing outside our front door. We never turn down a stranger in town, especially when clouds have gathered to storm. Beginning to pour, I opened the door, and we welcomed him in, as the thunder began Well, he shivered, and wailed even more! His coat was all wet, like a little drowned rat so I dried him, the best that I can. We fed him a bit, and settled the cat in a box, filled with blankets, within. Found a new litter box, and tucked it away not far, where the kitty would stay. We turned off the lights, but the thunder and fright scared the cat, and he soon disappeared ! Right under our bed, while poking my head 'neath the spread of the bed, I said "Here, kitty, kitty"... and my heart had such pity, for the poor little fit he was in. And that's how it began, scaredy cat had no friends Till we fell head over heels till the end! He was just a cry-baby....., and although we said "maybe" he picked us back then, as his kin
________________________________________________ For Francine's Contest: Beloved Pets 6/18/15

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

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i am so bright my mother calls me sun

the sun is mean here
it’s too bright
and i don’t mean smart

it shines in my eyes
i have to wear dark glasses just to drive
yesterday it burned my skin

but today i am ready
i’m wearing lotion 
spf one thousand

if that doesn’t work
i’m wearing my long underwear
of course the sun will make me sweat
it is a nasty vengeful sun
i’ll be all wet

i am going to wear it down
that’s the wrong spelling of wear isn’t it?
with all this heat i can’t think 
sun stroke maybe

i'm fed up i am going to get rid of it
i'll look mean 
scare it down
i'll make it go away

oh my goodness
it’s working finally 
the sun is leaving
the sun is gone 

oh no
i can't believe it
the sun
it just mooned me.

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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The Dragline

THE DRAGLINE  for Pete Brett 

One hundred foot boom 
 7-½-yard bucket 
The tracks are like 
 Ones on the tracks of a tank
They go chunk clunk and clank  

Arm of the boom swings 
 Far to the left then to right  
Out casts the bucket 
 And drags the rock in 

 Papa pushes the pedals and 
 Pulls the leavers
 Lifts the cranes bucket and 
 Swings the arm in 
 Dumps the rock into
 A pile at quarry
Just old black Burt, Bootsie and me
We ride in the donkey a brawny little engine
Careful now Uncle Burt I ‘am heavy as can be
He’d chuckle and let me ring the dingy
 As the donkey pulled all those gondola cars
 to the rock crusher A ring ding-a-ling
 here comes the train ring ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling

Dinner would be with Uncle Red Papa and me
 by the railroad tracks a fire warm 
and perhaps we would see
 Alligator Willy who would stop by to share
 some pickled eggs, sausages and a beer
 I dance in the night by the light that comes
 from cranes rear window the light that
shines from the top of the boom
My stage is a beam of square light
and I dance and I swirl as the 
beam from the top boom does
swing. It’s better than the light from the moon
I spin and I dance in an out of
The shadows
I see my papa’s face
Through the crane’s side window’s panel

His arm is out stretched as he
Pushes and pulls
I wave I am tired now

He jumps from the tracks and
 Lifts me back in
His face has wide goofy grin
We share chocolate milk
From a thermos and take
 Orange marmalade Sandwiches wrapped in wax paper
 which were sticky and sweet
 from his Old battered Lunch Pail 

 when my feet were all wet He took off my shoes
 and placed them by Old Mr. Murphy as his engine was called 
 Dry and warm and cozy we’d be
Papa his dog Bootsie and me
 Northwest the crane that he ran At Seminole Rock
 he was considered the best Crane operator-man

He worked from dark tell the sand-man
I sleep in an empty dynamite crate
Filled with a string called waste
Used to spread thick grease
by the big diesel engine at the back
of the crane 
He shuts the doors as it’s starting to 

The crane growls and grumbles
and rocks me to and fro
 like in a large giant’s lap 
as I take a nap
in dreams I spin and I dance 
by the light from the boom 
it’s better than the light
 from the moon

Copyright © JoAnne Simms | Year Posted 2012

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Losing my first love

I wrote you a song, but it was never finish
both of us were in love, but it was soon bound to be diminished
No one s fortune is worse than us
your feelings toward me will soon finish and will become dust
both of us told each other that how much we love each other
but only I was honest
with me you was always in a bonus
I remember sitting in your bed
and crying in your lap
begging you not to leave 
saying thousand of pleases
although knowing that you can t go back

the time of your departure come
I m never going to accept
that you going away was for best
Their comes the part which I fear
I ve to let you go and in order that you don t worry
I was not even allowed to shed a tear
my heart was broken into many pieces
but I want you to be happy and I want you to think  that I m too
no matter how sad was and always will
I ll always remember you as my miss Blue

that was the last time I was kissing you goodbye
the thought of you not with me
started to make me cry
every inch of my body was protesting
yet my eyes started to fill, 
luckily you didn t notice because the return tears in your eyes
should have make me kill

the last verse which I want to tell her
but never have guts was

you drew me in, 
you taught me to love and you taught me to sin
I never thought you would break my heart
but I was wrong right from the start

the car engine starts
I see you sitting in the car
in order that you don t see me
I was standing very far
as the car starts
tears started to drip of my nose
your goodbye letter all wet in my hand
but this was how it goes

I stand their thinking that the car might stop
that you might come back, 
But I was never having such a lucky fate
to have such a beautiful person like you
 as my date
it was like a  dream and it all finish as I wake
but you was real, I was real, 
I don t know about you, but my love wasn t fake

Copyright © Faraz Ajmal | Year Posted 2017

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"Love, Drys The Ink"

 	 "Love, Drys The Ink" (32809)

let me draw you a picture
plant it on your lips
crave it inside your heart
so love won't miss
cut at your heart strings
till the paint all wet
love you so deep, love you all so long
that angel began to sing our love songs

so now is the time to set your heart free
place all your wants, softly under me

and take a deep breath and hold on tight
there only pleasured pain
so, no need to fight

now let the story be written
till the ink start to dry
because in our fairytale
there only forever
with just You and I~


Copyright © verlecia fields | Year Posted 2009

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Goodbye - for EAW

So She knew
That declaration of love
It took me by surprise
We hadn’t spoken for decades
The cut off when I didn’t reply
Later the daily prayers she sent up
I still did not know
Then the bald picture
It frightened me
She asked how I liked it
I replied in silence
She sensed my shock and lied
Its my new hair style
I completely missed it
She called to say Happy D died
I was sad and cried a little
We grew up together
They were both my (girl)friends
She asked me to send a donation
Then sent pictures at the funeral
She looked healthy with her white smile
When we parted as teenagers
That smile always stayed with me
We used to be mischievous
Playing in the rain all wet
Everybody knew then she left
And now two more pictures
She had lost a lot of weight
I barely recognized her
A gold ring on her withered hand
A grandchild on the other
They were dressing for church
Several months passed
I called again in vain
Finally the news came
She was gone …
She couldn’t wait for me
I have been thinking of her
Those days long long ago
I would wait up to catch a glimpse
Or perhaps to talk as she came by
I remember her other leaving
Like this one without goodbye
She had shielded me again
I just now caught on

Copyright © M Braimah Saaka | Year Posted 2018

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From Sky

It starts off high up in the sky
formed amidst  clouds all inky
frozen solid in flakes all spiky

This frozen water falling slowly 
some of it all wet and trickily
slowly it hardens so thirstily 

More spikes come together
growing whiter and larger
shaping into a frosty layer 

Star like now it spirals wildly
pausing a moment briefly
as it settles so blithely

Amidst a fluffy blanket
for all a shining trinket
laid in a white casket

And so the story is finished
with a flake so cherished
until oh so slowly it vanished

Always be true to yourself

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014

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Speak--Easy----- 1920's

I may be all wet, but I sure ain't no bluenose!
And, while it's none of my beeswax,
Let's have a bull session-lesson !
Take a gander around, and tell the guy with the cheaters
I'll give him an ear-full, if he'll just hang around

There's a gatecrasher here..., I heard, on the level
He's  zozzled on hooch, a big lollygagger!
He staggered in blotto, with a ciggy on his lips
Sipping on bootleg, and lookin' for whoopee!
He's the fall guy,  (I've heard), for a weird, double cross

Here comes the hoofer, the one with the gams
That vamp is a pushover, a gun- moll, man chaser
A real hotsy-totsy!, she dresses real spiffy
Her toy is a shiv,  she's the Jane, Real McCoy,
makes a sap out of guys, who carry a torch
Bumps them off, on their own front porch !

And that's the "Big Cheese", who runs the speakeasy
He thinks he's high hat, but is full of baloney
He gives all the dames, the real "heebie-jeebies"
Just a poor drug-store cowboy... filled with nothin' but hooey

Hard-boiled. they come,   gold-diggers and hoods
I've been beating my gums, and I'm dying of thirst
This is the berries, been the real bees knees!
Oh, it has been swell, while chewing the fat!

But, facts are the facts, on the up and up

Well, bye, Buttercup,......the jig is up
I'm serious Sam, in a serious jam
The truth of the matter is, that I'm on the lam

You don't know for nothin', stay out of a pickle !...
Remember my friend, don't take wooden nickels !!

For Deb's Contest: Talk The Talk, Walk The Walk   (1920's Slang)

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

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Food lovers

You go into the kitchen and begin to prepare a meal.
I tiptoe up behind you and tickle your waist.
You jump and squeal with laughter.
You put the ingredients on the work surface.
And pickup your sharp knife and wave it in my face.
Now Keith stop being silly while I prepare your food.
No more touchy feely. I am not in a childish mood.
I put up my hands and put them around your waist.
Giving you a passionate kiss.
You turn and use the cutting board.
I open the chilled white wine.
You take the glass and have a drink.
Then leave it on the side of the sink.
You cut the salad and shake the bowl.
Putting in salad dressing I think it was Vinaigrette.
It was nice the salad was all wet.
You peeled some fruit and took an orange segment.
Turning to me you put it to my mouth.
I bit into it halfway then put my lips to yours.
So we both got the taste.
It ran into our tastebuds.
You laughed and turned away.
I pulled your hair to one side.
And kissed your neck.
The taste of the orange was on your skin.
You laughed and said it tickles so much.
I said I love when you laugh! I can never get enough.
We move to the table to eat the meal.
You begin to rub my leg with your foot.
I say darling what is it you want?
You push closer and whisper.
My lover Can you pass the salt.
I get up and walk over to your side.
You pull back and look in my eyes.
I take your hand and you get up.
Then you sit in my lap facing me.
Your hair covers my face as you lock lips with me.
We can eat our meal later it wont go cold.
Making love to you is always more fun.

Copyright © Keith Teaser | Year Posted 2016

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The Best Exercise

Your cold right now
your body is still
but let me warm you up
and give you my fill
slowly I enter 
you tremble surprised
you got me all wet
my body has raised
You pleasure me hastily
with your gentle waves
I use my hands with their fingers 
to play with your face
your swishing back and forth
I've made you all wild
How I love to take a swim
in this pool for a while

Copyright © Jessica Arteaga | Year Posted 2009

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Political Poetry Solutions are usually all wet

I guess it's time for me to say to all America.
We are in debt and it is time to cut spending.
This does not mean it is time to argue how.
What it means is We Need to decide what percentage we cut.
Almost 2% is ridiculous and yet you argue over it incessantly..

Let me simplify your problem for you
Cut every check paid out including all salaries and benefits for EVERYONE
You have managed to put everyone in debt and EVERYONE OF US OWES
Pick a percentage of cut (I would suggest 25%)
And yes I mean every check to every part of government including Social Security Checks.   
You have put them in debt too
Make everyone    pay by reducing their money by the same percentage as everyone else.
Then the enormity of your crime will be exposed for what it is
and we all must pay our share of your debt

Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2011

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The Bus in Bay 6

Of bus stations I have known, this is by far the worst
A post Victorian folly that's a post Victorian curse.

A waiting room that's cold and dark a room ground down with grime
A fire bricked up no form of heat a floor all wet with slime.

A tiny little bus station behind the old town hall,
Six tiny little bus stands beside a red brick wall.

Built for smaller busses to host sightseeing tours,
For transport to the seaside or the rugged northern moors.

Congestion in the timetable brings many busses in,
To squeeze into the bus station like sardines in a tin.

December winds are blowing hard bring snow in from the north
The crowds just praying for their bus so they can sally forth.

The "Counties" bus at bus stand six is driver-less once more,
It's passengers stand huddled up outside the tight shut door.

The wind still blows the snow gets deep and piles up in the gutter,
The bus can't move the drivers lost the crowd are in a flutter.

At long long last a "rep" appears his clip board boldly waving,
All services canceled for the day it's time to hit the paving.

All services canceled can't get to work I'm wasting my time remaining,
For an act of God is an act of God and there's really no point in complaining.

Copyright © Peter Brown | Year Posted 2013

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Santa Claws - for contest

Santa “Claws”

it was bitterly cold
the tree lot that night
as I loaded our tree
tied it up really tight
drove through wet streets
the windblown fresh flurries
past the slow moving cars
in this season that hurries
pulled into the driveway
to the family’s applause
a much muted version
of that for the “Clause”
Carried the tree in
cut all the twine
stood it up straight
to let it unwind
mixed up a warming
egg nog with some rum
never expecting
what was to come
A shreik and a scurry
a “Dad – Come here Quick!!”
it seemed that the tree’d
played a horrible trick
something was moving
emitting low growl
each time it moved
the children would howl
seems that the heat
the light of our home
awakened the beast
caused it to moan
climbed amid branches
sticky thick sap
upset we had woke it
from its cold winter’s nap
and so there we waited
with baskets and net
and towels in case
it came out all wet
As slowly the growl
softened to a mew
two eyes peeking out
on surroundings quite new

The children all gasped
as it fell from the tree
rolled in a ball
out on to the floor
sprang to its feet
took off in a blur
jumped into the box
with the bulbs and the tinsel
bellowed the song
a high pitched old minstrel
tangled in wires
covered in bows
two greenish eyes
one little pink nose
four little paws
in a “What the heck” pose.
So shake out your trees
for this story is written
of how we brought home
our first Christmas Kitten.


submitted to – Cats and Christmas Trees – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Mary Oliver Rotman

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015

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The Odd Couple

The evenings are getting chilly
Time for the woolly socks and trackies to come out
My body is strange at the moment
It’s the coming of Winter
Yet my fan is still my constant companion
I sleep out on the lounge
I’m finding the bed too uncomfortable
What I have is called ‘Menopause’
It’s the changing of life
From what…I do not know
So while I’m rugging up at times
I’m trying to cool myself off at other times
The sweat stays at the back of my neck
My hair all wet
Meanwhile my daughter is in her room
Winter P.J’s and heater on
What an odd couple we make.
©copyright Juanita Torr

Copyright © Juanita Thorn | Year Posted 2013

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The sun is really high and hot;
his three-day shirt is all wet.
He carry academic papers in his file;
every day he walks for more than a mile,
looking for a way to get a decent job,
and save him from political mob.
Sometimes he wonders why he was born;
looking down at his shoes so torn.
Pain and misery is visible on his face,
as he toils hard on the rat race.
His hands are so strong and rough,
adapted to the world so tough.
He lived alone – he’s an orphan;
sometimes he tries out heroin,
to forget his childhood trauma,
and focus on life’s daily drama.
In his heart he carries a song,
which he sings when days are long…..

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2017

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It came from above
Falling so fast on my head
It gets me all wet

Copyright © cameron holden | Year Posted 2007

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Saul Grills Marilyn at a Seedy New Orleans Jazz Dive

Saul’s twinkling eyes took it all in – the platinum hair framing a first-class face, the silvery sheath dress wrapped around a figure that was out of sight, but in plain view. She was definitely the classiest thing in the joint -- Bannister’s by name, a jazz club just off Camp Street in New Orleans – and she was leaning against the side of a very lucky piano, crooning a sultry tune as Saul watched her from his table at the other end of the room, nursing some straight-up rye and taking puffs off a Lucky Strike – which wasn’t half as smokin’ as Marilyn. The ceiling fans didn’t put much of a dent in the muggy air, but that didn’t stop a cold chill from making its way down Saul’s backbone as Marilyn belted out the last few bars of her suggestive little ditty.

When she was done the patrons roused themselves from their stupor long enough to beat their hands together like they meant it, and Saul did the same, then motioned a cigarette girl over and whispered in her ear, dropping a fiver onto her tray. The girl swayed her way over to Marilyn, who was having a tête-à-tête with her piano player. After a few seconds he split, disappearing through a curtained doorway, and Marilyn perched herself on a stool at the far end of the bar. The cig girl muttered the message, jerking a thumb in Saul’s direction, and Marilyn started to shake her head as she turned toward him, but the moment her baby blues locked on his, the “no” turned into a “yes” and she crooked a beckoning finger. He picked up his drink and made his way through the clouds and the crowd till she filled his field of vision.

“Hello, handsome,” she said as she gestured at the stool next to hers. He parked his keister on it. “I understand you’re a private peeper, come all the way from New York City just to talk to little old me.”

“I’d have come farther,” he said, “just to get a good look at you.”

“Aren’t you the charm boy,” she said, producing a Kool from her silver handbag. He lit it. She puffed. So did he.

“Actually,” he said, “I’m in town on another case, but when I found out you were here I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

“Good thing I’m not a bird. So what do you want to talk about? Dicky Delgado?”

“I didn’t know you had a mind-reading act too.”

“Mister, if I could read minds I’d be slapping your face right about now.”

He grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I know this. Delgado’s in a jam and Barry Bason is defending him and everybody knows you’re Bason’s pet gumshoe. I’m just trying to decide which I like better -- the tall, dark, handsome one or the lighter version. You and Bason are a couple of dolls. Although your pictures in the paper don’t do you justice.”

“Thanks. Neither does yours. And you’re right about Delgado. I’m investigating all his enemies, trying to figure out which one of them framed him.”

She crossed her legs. The oh-so-tight dress parted, nearly up to her waist, revealing the shapeliest shins this side of Betty Grable.

“You think it’s a frame job?” she said.

“Could be.”

“And you figure I might’ve had something to do with it?”

“Did you?”

“Oh come on. Sure, I resented that heel for giving me the boot, but I landed on my feet. In fact, I’m grateful to Dicky for setting me on a new career path. I’m moving up in the world.”

Saul glanced around the small, seedy nightclub. “This path leads up? Looks more like a dead end.”

“Hey, don’t let the decor fool you, handsome. This is one of the top jazz joints in the country and the boss pays a lot better than that skinflint Cuban. And a girl could get noticed here if she plays her cards right.”

“I’ll say.”

“I mean by record producers, smarty. All the big shots stop in here looking for new talent. We’ve already gotten a couple of nibbles.”


“My husband and I. Bobby was the guy tickling the ivories during my number.”

“Quite a cozy arrangement. Was it that way with Delgado too?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I wonder if you and Delgado sang a few after-hours duets. And when the lyrics got too hot for Dicky to handle he changed his tune to the wedding ring blues. That casts the brush-off in a whole new light, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what he told you?”

“No, but Bason figures it’s an angle worth pursuing.”

“Which proves that brains and beauty don’t often go together, especially in men.” She blew smoke in his face. “Bason is all wet. And you can tell him so.” She got up off the stool. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go change my tune.”

“Hold on, I’ve got a few more questions.”

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. Bobby Trope, blonde piano player and annoyed husband, stood behind him, along with a burly bouncer with anchors tattooed on his biceps.

“This quiz show just got cancelled,” Bobby said. “Time to sign off, shamus.”

“Hi, Mr. Trope,” Saul said. “I hear you barely made it back in time for Marilyn’s show last night. Your flight out of New York got delayed due to engine trouble.”

“Who says I was in New York?”

“The girl at the TWA counter at the airport who sold you your round-trip ticket. Why did you go there? To tend to some unfinished business?”

“Unfinished or finished, my business is none of yours.”

“You got something to hide?”

“Nope. I just don’t like nosey questions from private dicks. But I got a question for you. Are you gonna blow this joint under your own power or do you need a little breeze in your sail?”

Saul glanced at the bouncer, then stood up and turned to Marilyn. “Nice meeting you, Miss Leeds.”

“It’s Mrs. Trope to you,” she said. “Now blow.”
(This is an excerpt from my mystery pastiche novella, "The 'I Love Lilly' Murders"

Copyright © Stanley Carter | Year Posted 2016

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Voyage To The New World

They'd not begrudge the sea a whim
let loose three ships to sail the bounding main
and cheat dear Neptune dark and grim
from claiming what is gold to where he's lain

and Isabell she rid the nation clean
'fore Chris chould sail into the sunset red
expelled them every one that Spain had seen
lest they'd destroy the culture as 'twas read.

But many came and dipped into the brine
of Baptism, then Christianed, rose all wet
thus saved in Jesus as were thee and thine
as yarmikas were twisted in their fret.

Amid their Inquisition, light has  shown
to lead then out of what's thier great unknnown.

© Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016

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Hammy the hamster

Hammy the hamster’s gone to Heaven

We didn’t say goodbye

I loved him oh so dearly

Why did he have to die

I just got up this morning 

And found him in the loo

My little pet, his fur all wet

What am I going to do

My little brother Liam said

Don’t worry, he’ll be fine

I thought he’d like a little swim

Last night at half past nine

Now little Liam is ill in bed

And Mummy’s in a rage

Cos I force fed little Liam

With the bits from Hammy’s cage

Copyright © Jon Payn | Year Posted 2010

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Move Over

hola sh!t!
who are YOU?
spanky girl
in thigh high
boots! whoah!
shadow long
disguised a form
petite in size
since the day
i was born
wHip! my lip
sticks out
and I pout
when I don’t
get what i want
Patient as
spit on a fire
and I come out
with intent
and desire
so move over…
it’s time to hire
something that works
cosmic my
Rogue.ish grammar
burped a turd
into propers
top robers
robbers of our hood
I’m a vent I said
and you’re the Marylin
with your panties all wet

I’m moving in
and taking over this place.

"...Marlin, it wasn't my club..."

"...look out, the ocean's mad..."

Copyright © Izzy Gumbo | Year Posted 2010