Best Attended Poems
It's quiet whisper stirs my languid mind
Inviting coffee colored memories
A young man's face with future yet defined
Each vapored breath a page in history
Familiar apparitions reappear
Whose images I dare not chase away
The roads they traveled, washed out by my tears
This morning's chill a bridge to yesterday
Then as the welcome sun breaks o'er the trees
I find myself attended by a smile
Their goodbyes echo in the rustling leaves
As I walk back alone those last few miles
While standing on the porch I get a chill
Although the morning breeze has now grown still
Sept 11 2016
Categories:
attended, memory, morning,
Form:
Sonnet
I attended a large gathering and took some time
to observe the great assortment of shoes stacked on the racks
I saw new shoes, pricey shoes, and shoes not worth a dime
and shoes that seemed to have crossed many paths and tracks.
I saw dainty sandals and flighty high heeled ones too
I saw sporty sneakers and rough and tough trainers
I saw both the laced and the leathery buckled shoe
Then I saw the humble yet hardy pair of slippers.
I saw pointy shoes, furry shoes and flatties as well
I saw flowery ones and those studded with trinket gems
Some stacked neatly in pairs, others thrown about pell mell
Some recently repaired, some coming off at the hems.
I saw long boots, rubber boots and
there were glittery Indian styled stilettoes
I spotted fragile glass sandals and metallic brass sandals
and soft comfy ones for comfort of feet 'n' toes.
And while I was thus lost and engrossed
in watching the great assortment of footwear
The old caretaker, to me, a cheap pair tossed
saying, ' here's an extra pair if you've lost your shoes.
She was too busy and distracted to be in my shoes of muse
So I'd to slip out thinking of some quick excuse
She didn't even notice I wasn't actually barefoot
So I had to take them elsewhere, both my muse and my boot!
Ah, and long ago when once we could afford only a 'shoestring' budget
I once hadn't enough bucks to replace a worn out pair of shoes
I was sad for not having even a good goody two shoes
Then God showed me a wayfarer's shoeless pair of barefeet
and then one hapless one with no feet at all!
So I could imagine life being in their missing shoes.
(Footnote*
Wonderin where I saw so many shoes off peoples feet? Well, in our religious gatherings say for prayers in the mosque hall or even the religious lecture hall, we've to enter barefooted and sit down crosslegged. So that's where you come across all kinds of shoes on racks provided in the cubicle.
Actually in the Disney movie, 'THE PRINCE OF EGYPT', i marked that even Moses took off his shoes before talking to God.)
Categories:
attended, humor, inspirational, social,
Form:
Quatorzain
I will never ever forget
that haunted look
in her huge blue eyes
She was only four years old ...
an innocent child
who witnessed her beloved daddy
fall to the floor and die
After the trauma of his death
she never spoke another word
Written for Haunted Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Sadly this a true story of a little girl called Jacqueline who attended the pre-school I worked in, even after all these years I have never forgotten the haunted look in her eyes.
9/26/19
Categories:
attended, death, father daughter, heartbreak,
Form:
Free verse
Act One: the stage and scenery are set
I was told the play, I'd not soon forget
But if truth were to be told
More like the game, whack-a-mole
I needed a hammer, not a lorgnette
Thespians were vying for the limelight
Popping up everywhere, ready to fight
Sarcastic words ill spoken
The golden rule was broken
A princess rudely slandered by a knight
Act Two: the actors wrote their own stage play
A long soliloquy to have their say
The audience booed and hissed
"Put that one on the blacklist!
Kick that charlatan out," they did convey.
Someone had to quickly close the curtain
'fore the crowd decided they'd be hurtin'
the actor they were jeering
with sidelong looks of leering
meaning, "Fit for a role by Tim Burton!"
Act Three: Then Queenie tried to take control
Each part played, she admitted that she stole
Just another know it all
Boring with each scribbled scrawl
Showing up everywhere like whack-a-mole
Bad actors can't write plays worth a ripe fig
But criticize others to make a dig.
Negative comments given
Are they jealousy driven?
Wantin' to make the rules like a bigwig
The play, though not very well attended
is being recast with those commended
who are never rude and crude
and have a kind attitude
Instead of those whose words have offended
The next play is about a new dog breed
I heard it's called a boghound with a need
to chew on a bone until
its nibbling has caused ill will
and seats are all empty; audience freed.
Categories:
attended, satire,
Form:
Limerick
The traveler reeked of weariness,
His companion was Fatigue
Wear upon his clothes suggest
He'd come a million league.
Gaunt were eyes deep set and brown
Above his cheekbones high
His being was pure somnolence
And I heard his silent cry.
Hard roads had been his travel
The pains chiseled on his face
In lines of furrows on his brow
Permanently enlaced
Around I saw no motion there, then ...
His head began to rise
Finally he looked at me ...
Suffering in his eyes.
So quietly I attended
And with a heavy heart
I wanted so to speak to him ...
But knew not how to start
Within his labored breathing
He then began to speak
His words, when finally spoken
Were truthful and unique
His lips worked to form the words -
Then said; "My name is: Common Man,
I'm a father; I've worked hard;
' always done the best I can.
"The road's become uphill and steep with
Burdens I can't propel
I've tried to move on forward -
But, I stumbled here - and fell.
"There are others on me
Who so do depend
I must move on forward,
This mustn't be my end.
"Now I must reach out to you
'Cause before I've never failed
I'm turning now to you
'Fore on hardships I'm impaled".
A calloused hand then extended
Toward my outstretched hand
And I want to heed the call
For this Common Man.
But, Greed and Avarice have won
And assistance can't be lent -
Wall Street, you see, owns me now:
I'm Your Government.
Categories:
attended, america, conflict, corruption, discrimination,
Form:
Rhyme
*Sung to the tune of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” Intended to be taken
humorously.
“When are you gonna grow up?
It is in jail you will land
You’ll have to stay after class
And I’ll be talking to your old man”
“You know you can’t hold me forever
The last school bus is now due
You can’t rap my knuckles with your ruler now
Stand in my way and I’ll just run through
So nah, nah, nah…
“So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were cruel
The Catholic school’s finally closing
The lunchroom’s stopped serving gruel
“I’m taking that bus, might never get off
Don’t want to face my Dad’s wrath
Oh, I’ve finally decided to free myself
And set out on my own path
So nah, nah, nah…”
“How can you earn a living?
You can’t even spell your name
You’ll be required to take some remedial courses
And stop playing silly head games”
“Maybe you’ll get a new convent
I hear there’s some room in Brazil
Students there might appreciate
A no-nonsense sister with a voice shrill
So nah, nah, nah…
“So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were crude
The altar boys have been set free
The priests are no longer lewd
“I’d like to stay, watch them raze it
The site with torture imposed
Where skeletons still hide in the closets
Nevermore to be exposed
So nah, nah, nah…”
*For John Heck’s “Dear John” contest.
Those of us who attended St. Joseph’s just learned the school is being closed.
Although a good education was provided, some students were beaten there repeatedly.
I feel a good education was provided, but they went overboard with discipline.
Categories:
attended, satire, schoolschool, education, education,
Form:
Lyric
My abiding memory of 2015 is of events that are so sad
With my father’s death, it’s the worst year I’ve ever had
It has been the most challenging year for me
But with amazing support I remain pretty happy
I don’t want to dwell on events that have past
My memories of the year 2015 will always last
I want to leave the year on a humourous note
With a true tale of a gift that didn’t get my vote!
Mum and I went out to a local church fete
It’s very well attended and the raffle is great
We perused all the stalls and brought a few things
I got some lemon cake and some brand new earrings
The raffle stall bulged with wonderful prizes
With boxes that ranged in all shapes and sizes
One pretty white gift box really caught my eye
Four ‘Dior’ perfume miniatures for a lady to try
We brought some tickets then sat and drank tea
I said to mum, I’ve seen just the prize for me
The raffle got drawn and mum’s ticket was pulled out
I collected the prize of Dior perfume without a doubt
Mum told me I could have it as a Christmas gift
I was overjoyed and it gave my heart a huge lift
The gift box was placed under our little tree
Its pretty gold ribbon was there for all to see
I didn’t open the box on Christmas Day
Until Boxing Day the pretty box did stay
We were going out to friends later that night
I thought my new perfume would be just right
Taking the pretty white box from under the tree
I pondered which scent would be perfect for me
Upon lifting the lid of the perfume box
I returned to the school of hard knocks
To my consternation and my deep chagrin
There was a void where the perfume once had been
An empty box was my only present from my mum
My gift is that I still have mum, so my poem is done.
This is a true story - someone had put an empty box as a raffle prize!
Contest: My abiding Memory
Sponsor: Viv Wigley
9th January 2016
Categories:
attended, christmas, giving, humorous, memory,
Form:
Couplet
Have you forgotten Eleanor Rigby?
Then step up, meet me now, for I am she.
How many weddings have I attended
where it seems a war has been suspended?
For but a few moments, these happy pairs
enjoy their lives as if they have no cares.
I picked up the rice at each wedding,
asking myself why I was attending.
Perhaps just to see our priest once more
Father McKenzie, whom I adored.
There’s no doubt that my passion was true
and that he, surely, must love me too.
So bury me now along with my name
in the cemetery’s corner of shame.
Resting in shadows, our graves can be found
with just two small headstones marking the ground.
Are you one of the lonely like us?
Do you sit alone with no mates to discuss
the remains of the day, two lives not shared?
For the good priest and I never dared
to open our hearts to both joy and pain,
leaving us solitude filled with disdain.
* Written 8/16/2019 for Jerry T. Curtis’s “Eleanor Rigby, Who Was She” poetry contest
Categories:
attended, loneliness, love,
Form:
Rhyme
While attending a social do
You meet and greet others
It’s more a social norm
Than any ‘real’ connect
As you attend to calls
Or get yourself updated with ‘Updates’
Or simply fiddle with your phone
And mind you
You are not alone
Almost everyone is doing the same
Some listless bites of conversation
While chomping on the fare
And it’s time to take leave
But ironically
The same social do
Which you had so perfunctorily attended
Finds the pride of place
On social sites
And horror of horrors
You too find yourself
Engaged in mindless chatter
With the very same crowd
You didn’t much involve yourself with
Just a couple of hours before
In that crowded venue
The story is the same
Whether you are with friends, family or neighbours
The present moments are sacrificed
With ‘smart’ phones smartly severing you
From your surroundings
Ironically when face to face
No one has much to say
But there’s frenzied socialization
Every day
In the ‘virtual’ world
Leading to tch, tch
A 24/7 disconnect in the ‘real’ world.
Categories:
attended, technology,
Form:
Blank verse
He says he saw "(this nation's)
Identity sold and robbed by immigration..."
And I remember
My first day teaching at the border school
First one there that August morning
Cows were grazing on the lawn
I walked into the office to report them
and the secretary laughed, "They're Hector's.
They sneak over the border sometimes.
He's on his way to get them."
The crossing was two blocks away
There was a hole in the fence
Where all the kids from Mexico
Who attended school in America, crossed
Customs and border patrol agents knew them
AND watched them come and go
Safely
It really was an open border then
And no one felt their identity was threatened
America was built on the backs of immigrants
And those who came in chains
They worked for pennies and nothing at all
While white culture treated them as inferiors
Are we losing our identity as white supremacists
Because people of nonwhite culture refuse to be our inferiors
GOOD
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."
Declaration of Independence (if you read)
People coming to America to live free and pursue their happiness
Robs our identity
Really?
People coming to America to live free and pursue their dreams
IS our identity
not January 6 insurrectionists
not election deniers
not voting rights suppressors
NOT white supremacists
who are destructive to others' lives, liberty, and their happiness
My duty as a TRUE American Patriot is to call you out
You threaten the very principles upon which this nation stands
And like it or not, we will confront you, and block your way
This great country is made of great people,
not narrow minded _____
(Whatever fits)
I'm out
Categories:
attended, america, immigration, patriotic,
Form:
Free verse
Passions for expectations with life were none
Till the teenage accepted life as it came anon.
Went to gym, played games, attended school
Swam in the open sea, life smooth and cool.
Might’ve been endowed with great expectations
In gestation to perform later in life like everyone.
Sprouted while in the university educational zones
Both of literature and dramatics as milestones.
Both meted out in career as a university teacher
Not so easy but had miles to go in my endeavor
Was quite fortunate to meet the inspiring persons
Who directed me to perform the righteous acts.
I did meet my expectations later in matured years
Performing Moliere in his own country and theatres
Attending the poetry conferences in three continents
And honors in literature that missed in early periods.
Aimed for the moon but reached the sky amidst
Never complained about the wind like a pessimist
Never expected the wind to change like an optimist
But adjusted the sails like a down-to-earth realist.
+++
October 14, 2014
Form Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third Place Win
Contest: BIO by Regina Riddle
Categories:
attended,
Form:
Bio
Self-pity became my days in so
many messed up ways,
if only the bottle in my right hand didn’t stay.
I knew I hit rock bottom-
I knew I was reaching near death-
I knew no time could save me,
as I took my last breath.
Flatline,
the fate of mine-
I ran out of time-
for I had become so darn depressed.
A heartbeat appeared as my family feared
I’d never be the same again-
Could there be damage from this affliction
due to my addiction?
I eventually lost all my friends.
I never contemplated ending my life,
for I was a mother and a wife-
I wanted to free myself with grace,
oh, the look upon my husband’s face…
Recovery seemed so far,
as a new flavor of life I craved to taste.
I didn’t want to live a life of waste.
I awoke one morning in
withdrawal and mourning,
for I needed a fix to survive-
But I pulled through and strived
for one more day and had the
strength to stay alive.
A look into my future with a fresh
sewn-on suture,
a mending needle and thread
pulled through with ease-
I needed to rid my life of the rumors,
and needed recovery much sooner
to rid me of this awful disease.
I had a sister back then who
saved me from myself-
I overcame with determination
without contemplation and
fully recuperated to good health.
I needed no wealth,
just sincere motivation and put
that old book upon my top shelf.
For I needed to be free from temptation.
Support groups I attended and many loving
people I befriended and with good counsel
I learned to love within-
God knew my honest life was intended as I
fit in and blended and this battle
I fought I did win.
I may have a broken wing that could never heal,
but this injury reminds of how I don’t wish to feel.
For my past has brought me much adoration,
and forever I shall try to fly in sincere celebration.
The life I hold is completely genuine and real,
as I continue my journey with...
...healthy moderation.
*I will always be grateful for my "broken wing". Thank you for this contest it caused much healing.*
Broken Wing Contest
April 10, 2017
Categories:
attended, addiction, celebration, depression, encouraging,
Form:
Rhyme
The wily thorn that signifies the rose
abides; some hapless fool will come along
untutored in the art of willful pose
to grasp, and sustain a sharp reminder!
His gift bestowed and modestly attended,
there stirs a trembling only she may know
whose pledge is true and joyfully intended,
first semblance of a passion soon to grow.
How powerful beauty's lure can be!
it supersedes, and pricks the heart to bleed,
and captured in its snare they're led
on rapture's path, where'er that path may lead.
Categories:
attended, love,
Form:
Quatrain
I passed away last night.
This morning I buried my soul.
Love died inside of me
My story left untold.
The funeral was attended
by Hurt, Anger and Pain
While Solitude and Despair
Slowly comforted me in the rain.
The mundane atmosphere,
Coincided with the mood.
I was dressed in a black outfit
With my head covered in a hood.
Black birds circled above
As the box lowered into the ground
Then descended on surrounding dead trees.
Mourning cries the only sound.
A heart shattered in pieces
Was scattered into the dismal dark sea
And drifted many miles away,
For the entire world to see.
Hope, Faith and Never Give Up,
Engraved on every piece.
A heart that held strong for many years.
Ends off as a ravenous feast.
Tears have finally run dry.
Emotions are stone cold.
Love died of natural causes,
Yet could have been consoled.
I passed away last night.
This morning I buried my soul.
A heart once full of love,
Leaves in its place a Black Hole…
Categories:
attended, dark, heart, heart, morning,
Form:
Rhyme
I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch
Tall and quiet,serene and cool
politeness was her rule
I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch
Feminine in manner and mien
an example upon our scene
I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch
Her eyes filled with grace
she will be missed in fellowship's place
I did not know her well
but in me this impression dwells
....there was a warmth in her touch
I shook Doreen's hand in welcome at the door of our church last Sunday morning,she died in
her sleep on Sunday night, aged eighty-six.She had attended our Time out for Seniors(our
church's monthly community lunch/fellowship ) where I sometimes joined her & her friend for
the meal part.She lived in a local care home and started coming to our church within the last
year.
Categories:
attended, friendship
Form:
Elegy