Best Anecdotal Poems
Refrain:
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.
The world of pop will never be the same again, dim
The lights for him forever, my immortal performer,
My childhood mirror. Death is victor and we the victim
Of shallow strifes, mourn for him! mourn my brother!
Thank you for the time you gave to us, thank you, child
For memories; thank you for the songs you sang here
Thank you, Michael, you were the greatest ever, a Nile
That flowed through desert of needs, you stilled the fear.
Micheal Jackson at last will find his rest, and Ben, we
Hope he will attain what he was looking for. So brief
The journey 'cross the stage of life, only time's story
Capture the vanity of our strife, but naught abate grief
"Even though the pain and heartache Seem to follow me
Wherever I go" how do I say goodbye to him? And shall
He say "you are not alone?" when he plays this memory
On discs beyond brink where the "thriller" is anecdotal?
What solace did we give him, when we understood naught?
What haven was there for him for all the love he gave
Did we not prance when like a butterfly in a web was caught/
O but nothing breaks his heart again, in the silent grave.
Michael we miss you, the white charade of the doting sun
Shall never the same again, the hooting cheers of the fans
Shall convert to silver rain, now the river's course is run
Now the footprints fade on the dancing mirage of the sands.
STEPS ASIDE
They’ve banned the “step counters”
Outlawed the treadmill and stationary bike
Banned jogging (aka fast walking for the elderly)
Sports will be limited to “non-aerobic” activities
Tiddlywinks tournaments will be Government funded.
Scientific research and investigation
Funded by the “stay inside and die sooner” chapter
Of the “Governmental Gottcha Groups”
Has conjectural and anecdotal evidence
That the heavy breathing induced by exercise
Increases the carbon dioxide emissions
Of those engaged in anaerobic exercise.
Suggested alternate activities are:
-Daydreaming,
-Scheming (aka conspiring with imaginary friends)
-Meditation…without chanting
-Astral Traveling (with or without passport)
-Thinking, but only about the things presented in our booklet
-(also known as “Talking Points)
Or the “Rip Van Winkle” solution…
Go to sleep for twenty years
and hope it’s all over when you wake up.
John G. Lawless
©2/24/2023
In cerebral moments of euphoria
we allow the mind to wander
where the body wishes to fly
where waves wash along seashores
anecdotal to our new found virgin sky
in fissures we do fuse
igniting within a spark
an inner euphoric battle
epic
killing off of time and space
we are one with the night
beheld in the blackness of trust
crushed by stone
and stirred
until we are strong
cast to the grail
of one another
inseperable
like the wind
filling holes
we rise above
the rubble
tossed across the sand
“A Man’s best friend is his dog”
The phrase receives little refute
Anecdotal history alone settles any dispute
but he’s just a dog all he needs to be is cute
Trustworthy loyal and dyeing to please
in return asking only to sniff around the trees
checking if other dogs crossed their i’s or dotted their t’s
You bring him home because he is oh so adorable
Now that you’ve stepped in it it’s oh so horrable
making matters worse your mutt is now incorrigible
your dog will figure out how to pass the time away
waiting for you to come home even if it takes all day
you’ve had to toss the things he’s trashed away
You know all he wants to do is play
you break out the treats and teach him to sit and to stay
but this is not why he waited for for you all day -but OK
walking and fetching may be good clean fun
but long legged dogs really love a good run
understanding dogs is not as easy as it seems
dogs like people take some things to extremes
We soon discover our dogs are a lot like us
so get to know him well and don’t make such a fuss
In Memory of our beloved Samson
see related poem: Tale of the Dog That Licked Me
The bard’s tale begins here, without remedy,
This telling of here is, there is, and tomorrow is,
Predestined works of meticulous perception,
A prophetic hunter searching inside the anecdotal,
Over uncountable eons for his vague lucidity,
An eremitic nomad perceiving his journeys path,
Being sculpted and painted upon times medium,
Recurrently seduced by the thirst of obligation,
Into the pinnacle of death’s unabated progression,
Quintessential holy man distorted by august lunacy,
Avant-garde purpose and innate coolness,
A prophet of constant deviating certainty,
An amalgam of the inevitable impetus of here and then,
Derived from the presage of opportunity,
Distinguished by fate to eternally struggle,
As a combatant upon the fields of our history,
Revered triumphancy amongst pain ridden turmoil,
Swathed in esteem and overwhelming omnipotence,
The divine sojourner moves ever forward to eternity,
Polished in the ineffable glow of foresight,
He continues down the pathway to do his biddings
You’re not allowed to read this poem!
Unless your name is Jeroboam.
So stop right now before you start,
A mindless poem with no heart.
No need to let your eyes a’ wander,
You must have tons of time to squander --
Looking at this awful mess,
Of verbal anecdotal-ness.
You just don’t listen to my haste!
Instead your hard-earned time you’ll waste.
I warn you, it will now soon end…
It’s just around this sentences’ bend --
So just
to mess
with
you
I’ll
write,
A falling sentence, leaning right;
You’ve reached the end I hope you know,
There’s nothing more for me to show…
If you’re still here, there’s no more rhyme --
Cause this is now the final line.
The Gospels share a negative understory,
thematic across all four.
However diverse these four voices may be
in describing and delineating Messianic love,
and political-economic priorities for poor spirits,
all four are univocal with anecdotal warnings:
If you are on the supremely powerful hoarding side
referring to those less fortunate than your enlightened self
as mere cowards
and traitors
and sinners
being who they marginally are,
as they perhaps criminally are,
for acting out insanely,
as they compulsively,
but not long-term nurturingly, will,
then you are on a wrong side
of co-redemptive ecopolitical action;
the wrong side of the GoodNews Gospels.
Blaming the victims
of poverty and ecopolitical marginalization
of abuse and neglect,
of addiction and victimless criminalization,
is the Gospel-condemned hypocrisy
of desecrating Pharisees
and Sadducees,
Publicans
and other clericalist malignant Aristocrats,
Caesars breeding Mammon
rather than CoMessiahs breathing Manna.
If we create an old with new blend of Jesus
as Solomon,
a more positive Gospel message
invites discerning issues of freedoms and rights to say
and/or do and not do
by asking ourselves, and each other:
Will this democratize freedoms to love,
to participate
to cooperate
to look for WinWin resolutions?
And, will this build higher boundaries around monoculturing restrictions
toward further WinLose anger,
fear,
intolerance,
chronic hatreds,
while excusing hypocrisies
of supremacists calling themselves on the side of defusing love's barriers,
removed from cowards,
losers,
soft on healthy defense,
fostering long-term economic disaster areas,
deniers of LeftBrain healthy nondual co-realities,
detractors from patriarchal capital-obsessed evolutionary self-aggrandizing theories
as more culturally important
than Matriarchal-ReGenerative CoOperation Stories
about Messiahs
and wise guys, royal as humble-servant birth
of healthy,
courageously cooperative,
mutually trusting and vulnerable ecopolitics.
OLD MANOR
THE NEW ONE
LOOKS LIKE OLD MANOR.
IT IS ANECDOTAL OF THE FEELING
TO ENTER THE MANOR.
WHICH HAS GIVEN MASOCHISH
OF LIFE-O.
IT HAS BEEN THE CURSE OF
MY LIFE.
WHICH HAVE MATTERED
A LOT TO EVERY LIFE-O.
AND NOTHING ELSE MATTER
EXCEPT THE THING LIKE
OLD MANOR.
THE THINGS HAS TO BE DIVINE.
BUT IT HAS CRUCIFIXED MY LIFE
FOR YEARS.
THE OLD MANOR HAVE RUINED
SERVENT OF THEIR OWN.
FLUMMOX ON EVERY SINGLE
THING THEY KNOW.
PEOPLE HAVE RULES OF THEIR
OWN.
WHICH ARE NO GOOD TO THE
WORLD.
THE OLD MANOR
HAVE GIVEN
NOTHING TO THE WORLD.
BUT I'LL DEFINITELY GIVE
SOME THOUGHT TO THE
MANOR.
AND I WISH TO MAKE
IT A PLACE OF
LEARNING FOREVER SO.
We had anecdotal tales to tattle of bruising battles
And through them tell of injuries we felt
Litanies lamenting limited lives sunken in debacles
Discarded in the putrid places we dwelt
And from that ruin of beginning I salvage naught
To explain the internecine wars then
Using bottles and stones through the streets we fought
Before the cowardly eyes of each citizen.
It makes me laugh now, for we had nothing to claim
Except the misery of the simmering slums
And except for the repercussion’s scars, blend blame
With the ointment. We sat on rusty drums
Where men spoke of sexual valor like singed fishermen
And between each parody of the dry tale
Remember us in our opposing villages, blind children
Fighting each other over the empty pale.
What was it about? Why did we do it? Why did we hate
The other without a cause? Why did we
Not take our insurrections to the oppressors’ grinning gate
And lodge our protest against history?
I fought with foes I never knew, and wasted my desire
On the garbage garbled up by fires
And know the old pain when I see new gangs aspire
Towards the quicksand and funeral pyres.
Ah, to reminisce,
to peer through rose colored glasses
smooth the edges of
pointed encounters
tamp down the burning
embers of memory
smoldering in silent seclusion.
To change the tone
texture and import
of echoed retorts
polish the participation trophy
sitting alone on the shelf
knowing that time
does not heal
nor dreams dissipate
those moments
and yet….yes yet…
I question the roots
of such reminiscences
anecdotal recollections
based on the youthful folly
of ineptitudes inexperience.
For the older I get
the better I was.
John G. Lawless
3/18/2021
as we travel forward once again
i am noticing a smiling pattern
the rivers and the lakes still sparkle in the sun's reflection
our similarities only elevate the compromising chemistry of our contrasts
in the center of our goofy laughter, we remain realizing that we have many more miles of anecdotal smiles to go
we have memories to tell our nieces, nephews, and grandchildren now
we hope they will be awe struck and, more importantly, inspired
from the moment we put whatever vehicle in drive, we will never give a stint of a hint that we are retired
we want our travails to be warmly remembered as well as happily admired
as we travel forward once again
hence,thence
with due diligence
birthing
scouring clean:
discard
the imperfect
experiment
and reflect-
and traverse this bridge...
the immaculate beckons
wobbling
anecdotal
narrative
conspicuously
from
nature's
vernal
threads,
twisting
stitching
an
ornamental
of
bucolic
rustic
quintessence
whispered
yarns
of
spring
relics
rains
bottleneck
processing
seal
blubber
in
hollowed
space
still
withholding
still
shut
mercy
of
rain
silence
depth
&
night
abyss
questions
throbbing
&
blunders
resurface
in
search
of
peace
built
bridge
on
mountains
&
climbed
streams
hunting
peace
to
breathe
believe
air
was real
dreams
reconciled
unique
comfortable
place
laying
on your
heart
to
feel
your
pulse
&
love
Written: February 18, 2023
YOUR CHOICE AGAIN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
Earthdate/starttime: 11/04/19 01:10:26 AM
Earthdate/endtime: 11/04/19 02:55:46 AM
Poetic snapshot regarding immediate
actual, physical, spatial... environment
pertinent, relevant, salient... yours truly
commenced within fleeting electronic
date/time stamp indicated above bereft
attempts to describe character sketch,
whereat I sit within Apartment B44:
taking immediate lock, stock & barrel
ordinary repeated situation witnessing
garden variety *****sapien imbibing
familiar scenario, while spouse sleeps
near proximity, CPAP machine regulates
continuous positive airway pressure
offsetting sleep apnea breathe more so
she can breathe free and clear preventing
airway from collapsing when she inhales.
Nothing particularly spectacular wee hour
this ordinary moment beckoned, challenged
decided... attempt to focus (laser like) sense
and sensibility without pride, nor prejudice
essentially simply worded still life repeated
predictably, & regularity glossed over other
instances finding impetus preying upon pro-
fun ditties, and expansive vocabulary unsure
communicated printed idea understandable
aware some readers disinclined wading thru
thicket (quagmire) of verbiage, hence eureka
experience to corral immediate circumstance
(think Will Rogers' 140th birthday his home
spun extemporaneous anecdotal nuggets.)
Many occasions embarking upon complexity
aspire to elaborate intricate worded webbed
(wide aye bother) complex edifice ambitious
invariably confounding unsuspecting readers
suddenly sinking within quicksand helpless
against salvation, hence painstaking effort
to asseverate downplaying sesquipedalian
rather toning down syllabification sharing
trumpeting, undulating humdrum existence
verily reporting sleeping on floor - courtesy
restless leg syndrome, which affects the mrs.
Marriage basically no match heavenly made,
nonetheless dynamic linkedin travails values
wifely attentiveness to prepare unrecognized
frying object (best described as pop slop), +
she tends other domestic chore, viz washing
soiled clothes nsync of kitchen, whiling away
(think dervish) stoking chaos within invisible
re: nearly infinitesimal speck within Milkyway.
Attempt to shine
flickering figurative klieg light
with the help of hyperbole
on poverty wrought
debutante material, this predicated
on my own unbiased thought
initially related during
my early boyhood,
how many countless
bachelor beaus sought
to pledge their troth,
who hailed (strictly
for purposes of this poem)
from Pennsauken,
Perth Amboy, Penobscot,
but thee essential truth ought
to be gleaned (lodged
as like some precious gem
within geode, qua Harriet Kuritsky,
who oft times recounted her
personal anecdotal information)
underlying veritable truth, I allude
means to underscore
how thine late mum
as the "baby" of her family
wore mantle of exclusive favoritism,
sans donning beautiful clothes
perfectly cared for,
coiffed, and curled hair
(think Shirley Temple)
as her older sisters brewed
festered, and steeped with jealousy,
asper me mother receiving
lion's share of blatant favoritism
all the while said long since
deceased maternal aunts got exclude
did from requisite
(shut heard textbook case) maternal love,
hence within their cerebral hood
incubated, evolved, and flourished
emotional disease affliction
with changeable mood
and thee Aunt Ruth oblivious,
while pacing hallway in the nude
whereat verbally abuse sent
both aunts to mental institution
insanity didst the
ultimate discordant prelude
resulting viz lifetime
of baleful, hateful, shameful,
and worthless venom got spewed,
hence no surprise
rabid mailer daemons
courted, thus psychosis easily wooed.