Best Attendees Poems
Little princess in satin shoes and dress
Curtain rises as she makes her debut,
Important attendees are me and you
She has been afraid of making a mess
Dancing across stage’s apron finesse,
To a rousing applause in ev'ry pew
Little princess in satin.
Tomorrow her troupe will be in the press
I’m certain she’ll receive a top review
She’s already got an award or two,
She continues to blossom, what progress!
Little princess in satin.
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written October 12, 2022
Rondine - 10 syllables per line
checked by PS Syllable Counter
aRbbaabR abbaR
Submitted to "Rousing Rondine" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jeff Kyser
A red-streaked panorama graced Washington's dawn
Clear lake-blue skies there all day long
Portland smoke-gray, from tear gas and pepper spray
Antifa showed its true colors on Inauguration Day
Not a hint of outrage from the government or the press
It's alright if the fascists are left-wing, I guess
At the Inaugural Ball, attendees donned their prettiest dress
Masks muting their 'concern' over the Oregonian mess
I have been privileged to know a few good men
And greatly blessed to know a few great men.
And far fewer have been the bad and the ugly.
In fact, the bad and the ugly were by far so
insignificant that I have forgotten their names.
But there have been four men and one lady
In my life whom I have considered heroes.
There was my first designated hero, Bob.
There was my missionary hero named Mary.
There was another hero named Billy.
There was also my other hero, Carlos.
My last designated hero, Mack, is still alive.
Mack doesn't know that he is my hero.
There was a very good and great man who
passed away a few weeks ago at the age
Of 91. Bill is 15 years my senior, and I had
known him for 30 plus years, far longer than
Mary, Bob, Billy, and Carlos. Also, I felt closer
to Bill than all the others. Bill was far more
than a hero to me.
Bill made me feel like a champion.
He spoke on my behalf to others.
He made me feel important, valued.
Tears are falling presently as write this.
I wish I had the words to convey that
'Special Something' between Bill and me.
Let me try by relating one special moment
Shared with Bill some 10 plus years ago.
Bill and his wife along with other attendees
Were already seated when my wife and I
Walked in. The room was humming with
conversation, but as we walked in Bill's
Direction, our eyes met. Just when our
Eyes met, I heard Bill say, "There's Sitruc'.
I was captured by those two words which
Spoke volumes to my spirit about 'Value'.
The words, "There"s Sitruc", have forever
been tucked away and cemented to my
Heart and soul.
There was a woman whose name Caroline
She dreamed one day she could teach online
She learnt technology tools
But never tried to take schools
While teaching she found her students offline.
*****
All students were invited to join zoom
To download the app and attend classroom
The teacher sent a passcode
There were works on the main road
The attendees still in the waiting room.
*****
Caroline did not give up on her dream
She devised a very clever scheme
Got training on e-learning
Attended virtual schooling
At home she could host members of her team.
*****
Caroline tried to lend students a hand
They worked with all the tools at their command
She bought for each a smart phone
To build a life of their own
Caroline henceforth had it all in hand.
I NEEDED
“Boldness – If I choose to loiter in this day I will lose it, and tomorrow will be the same, and I will end up lamenting the lost days” -By Wayne Wyder.
I needed a person who would cook my [spoiled] goose when my train was about to derail and he would fix the shocks.
I needed a fellow who bothered to know that before the Italians could cover my feet I had cracked heels. I needed a fellow who will know the origin of all the scars on my body, I needed one who knew why I engaged the services of a bespoke tailor – that the main reason was because my body was shapeless at some point.
I needed a fellow who knew that “my brother is a reflection of me. I can’t fly if he is falling”. I needed the one who understood that when I was with him we were neither strangers nor club attendees, nor colleagues. I am saying I needed the one who knew that he is not my leader but my vein.
I needed the one who was willing to walk alongside me all the time.
I needed a fellow who lived beyond his feelings but knew that as a brother we would always carry each other’s microscopes in order to zoom our blood. I needed a fellow that knew that his emotions/feelings could not build both of us but could provide either of us with a tent.
I needed a fellow who had his pad when the other fellow was jettisoned by his own plane because he had allowed today to pose as yesterday forgetting that today cannot be tomorrow.
Yes, I mean I needed the one who also had a pad when the misnomer was introduced into the other fellow’s plane and fermented the other fellow’s gum trees thinking they were impressed trees. I mean the one who knew that we are both together in this and he allowed me to have his ear when we walked, I mean the one who knew to listen to reason.
The highway bridges
Remnants of conversation
Clothed in ethereal blue.
Variform clouds
Stark white or gray
Bandage my heart.
Brother’s litany
Of thanksgiving
Floats above my head.
Mom and dad were
Good parents.
They worked hard.
Cemetery gates swallow us
Sleek and black
Like a raven
Plucking its prey.
Attendees’ musings are
Wetness on the
Road’s cheeks
Tactile as a
Cat’s tongue
Freshening the spirit
Words of gratitude
Misty as memory’s yesterday
Rich worked hard
He did very well for himself.
Puzzle pieces fit tightly
Brothers’ faces, Sister’s words
Cathartic like a cloak’s
Feathery embraces.
Drops of rain
Shower blessings
Prayers of thanksgiving
From another time
Diane is a beautiful girl.
Bill is smart.
How is Maureen?
Is he still here?
Yes.
How do I know?
Sunshine branching
Apple twigs glimmering
Meanwhile traffic
Normal as a busy
Day’s waking and sleeping
The wrought iron gates open
Spilling family out
Like white markers with
Blank dates
A gentle breeze,
rustling dried leaves,
now quietly at ease.
I set down upon fallen trees.
Elbows resting on knees
lungs strained, I wheeze.
I had run from the abductees
of ones youth with unease.
One looks around and sees
childhood trees,
climbed with buddies,
now dead or diseased.
Others also escaped times freeze
from a picture of static memories.
Everything’s time comes no mater the pleas.
Head in hands, breathing more at ease
I look round again, suddenly pleased.
As I look at grounds dead leaves,
one sees the forests new inductees.
Saplings, I count by the threes,
along with them more, slightly older attendees,
of this forest. Young life in vast quantities.
Now I’m relaxed and can now foresee,
someone climbing grown saplings with glee.
Remembering that day of youth in all degrees.
To come back and realize that time will never freeze.
A wedding day rose pale in dress
'twas as fair as the maiden bride.
Vanity’s breath in two hands caressed;
tendrils warily pruned, implied.
Quiet beauty bequeathed filled with pride.
Budding flower in light cascading,
veiled imitation none could foresee.
Blushing petals fall, brittle and fading.
Sunset bore weeping groom’s last decree.
Then into darkest night, he did flee.
A wedding day rose in graceful frock
shall charm all attendees eternal.
Apart from the bud with thorny stalk,
head silently rotting internal.
Dewdrops cloud o’er the earth infernal.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 10/11/13
for Giorgio Veneto's The rose (Allegory) Contest
At the Atlantis Resort in the Bahamas,
Souper poets are drinking Bahama Mamas.
Casino games are set aside every night
as Soupers take the stage to read poems they write.
Ladies dress up as mermaids and men as sailors,
not outfits that can be found at Lord and Taylor’s.
With many applause breaks and standing ovations,
attendees are inspired to share verse creations.
The thrill of conventions can’t be understated;
members have personal encounters long awaited.
Masks will fall from some who chose anonymity --
no avatars stifle their sociability.
A winged warrior and silent one are revealed
as all members’ true identities are unsealed.
No longer will there be conflict on the Soup site;
when we meet people, we’re obliged to treat them right.
With plans for another gathering underway,
adversaries’ best qualities are on display.
Vows to interact online as they do in person
are pledged by all Soupers without any coercion.
Conventions like this serve such a worthy purpose
and some long-lasting friendships are sure to surface.
*March 15, 2019
For Line’s Soup Convention contest
I glanced up the road and was taken aback with what I saw.
I looked again and to my surprise,
There was a troop of army guys coming down the road, all decked out in rainbow colored garb.
How could their coats of many colors fool anyone, and be camouflage.
Hotchpotch splotches dabbed on khaki, perhaps a fancy dress disguise
How silly they looked. Were they ashamed?
How could they go into battle dressed like that, when their foe would laugh at them.
Perhaps this was the tactic, distract the enemy, get them laughing, and shoot them dead.
Would the rainbow uniforms foster camaraderie among the troops?
Like a fancy dress attendees at a ball,
When its fun to look silly and its safe to laugh at each other.
As the soldiers marched in step towards me,
I noticed a frivolity in the demeanor.
Their step was more a meter dance step with fling, flare and flourish
Than a heavy trudge of hob-nailed boot banged on ground.
Perhaps the fancy dress had lightened their mood and plod.
As the dance party got closer I could here the chant they recited as they marched along:
"Are you ready kids?"
"Aye Aye Captain"
"I can't hear you!"
"AYE AYE CAPTAIN" "AYE AYE CAPTAIN"
"Yeah... I hear, yeah"
"Aye Aye Captain"
"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?"
"Spongebob Squarepants"
"Spongebob Squarepants"
"Spongebob Squarepants"
So the Rainbow Colored Camouflage had worked a treat!
Silly soldiers singing silly songs, in their silly coats of many colors.
Recalling how in the bible, Israel who loved Joseph more than all his sons,
Made him a coat of many colors.
Perhaps the soldiers too, were spoiled favorites of the commander chief?
There have been at least two people in our church who have committed suicide. A gentleman; a lady; both of whom were more acquaintances than friends. As I recall, their death occurred within a couple years of each other. I know both of their families well and see them often.
Their families are now real friends of my family.
The young lady had two surviving minor children, a boy and a girl who are being well cared for by their grandparents. The gentleman left behind a greeving wife who had also lost a son to drugs less that a year prior. Her husband, the father of the deceased son, overwhelmed by the death of their son, took his life at the son's grave site. It is very difficult to think about, but the surviving wife and mother is such an inspiration.
I have never studied anything about suicide, and have not directly done anything to prevent it. Regular attendees of our church, both parties mentioned above were very loved by their families. Our membership is about 700 people consisting of many small groups who gather for study, prayer, and fellowship. Somehow, they fell between the tracks; we failed to prevent it; nor did we even see it coming. I do not sense that there was insensitivity nor an insufficiency of love. So often 'life and death' are filled with complexities and complications. It is very difficult to prevent something you have no idea is about to happen. My experience in this area is very limited. Would to God there was more that I could say or bring to this table of despair.
Suicides; can we prevent them? Some, we can; most, perhaps not; but we must never cease to try. In the darkest places, there is somewhere a light. Somewhere, there is a spark to ignite a troubled soul, and to shout out the love to ignite the light.
The one suggestion I offer is that we dare to engage and connect with people of all types and persuasions, whether they are socialites or loners. Nothing fights and conquers fear and loneliness like love; and although love indeed projects emotions; it is 'an action word' with far more 'prevention power' than any other word in existence.
09152017 PS Contest, Suicide Prevention Month, Laura Loo
Paraded endlessly, this spectacle the Elephants know to be degrading,
And their counterparts from the sea , the Orcas, resist in captivity
By refusing to unfurl their proud dorsal fin, stings my eyes like a gnat
Lodged in my cortex, no amount of profit seems to dislodge.
Waking from my dream, I notice the old man waving to the crowd,
Gesturing wildly, as if warning of something no-one has yet seen.
Every evolution of Plybinium Quasar, the spectacle increases, with
Dogs leaping and biting at the air, and Neptunes, of disproportionate
Size, unable (or unwilling) to allow the pain to subside.
The viewing platform, constructed entirely of entitlements, teeters
Vicariously in the breeze, with the prominent attendees smiling, despite
Frostbite, inching up their extended promises.
Utilizing “light-track” technology, the time hoppers applaud
At pre-determined intervals, a strenuous exercise for sure,
Given the time restraints imposed by the counters in the Humbolt Quasar.
In this unfamiliar atmosphere, what clean air there is left to breathe
Smells pretty bad, like a cake frosted with sulfur.
01/10/11
9:46 pm
© All Rights Reserved
She wrote a letter
Which I happily read
In Spring
Summer baked on
Autumn arrived with a chill in the air
Winter followed with snow
Then the call came
Aunt Stella had passed away
Two months shy of her eighty-seventh birthday
Could I travel to Chicago for the funeral?
My cousin’s voice
Was anxious
Time was short
I would have to leave tomorrow.
The wind brought tears to my eyes
And I remembered why
Chicago was called the windy city.
The funeral was surreal
My cousin and I were lost in the room
Our voices echoed in the chamber
We were the only attendees
Where was the rest of the family
The funeral director nodded
He understood
More than we did.
Before the sad procession to the cemetery
We walked to her house
In no particular hurry
Talked old times
Remembered when
There, nestled under trees
We peered through
Rain stained windows
Looked inside an empty house
Sunlight streaming through a den door facing a back garden
We left quietly.
At the cemetery there was a delay
Impulsively
I began reading headstones
At random
Nearby were three
Aligned in a row
Each with the same last name
Following its own order of death
I made out a father, an uncle
And a young boy
Age ten
Standing over his grave
I caught a glimpse of something faded red and metallic
Chipping the frozen ground
I saw
Buried
A toy truck
How long had it been there
I could only guess.
As the Priest mumbled
Half forgotten Catholic prayers
I bent down and carefully
Pressed the toy
Back into the cold
Brittle earth
As it was
Meant to be
Years and years ago.
When the service ended
We looked at each other
My cousin and I
Thoughts and deeds
Of long ago
Brought back memories
I called out to him
Look after yourself.
He smiled and turned
You visit. Stay in touch.
The Priest remained
Where he was
The cold winter sun
Reflecting his bright colored vestments.
Plasmana, the vampirette
was invited to the annual ball
by Count Shevesky who was
handsome and six-feet tall.
It was held in his castle high
where vultures flew nearby
eyeing the guests with beady eyes
waiting for someone to die.
Women and their escorts dressed in finery
as they stepped out of their horse-drawn carriages,
the ball was a romantic setting for single ladies
who dreamed of rich and lasting marriages.
The ballroom was full of waltzing dancers,
women wearing tiaras or crowns,
swept away with their charming partners
as their silk slippers peeked under their gowns.
When Plasmana entered the ballroom near,
the music stopped and not a hush
was heard from the attendees,
her exotic beauty turned the men into mush.
After some time the music continued,
men kept staring at Plasmana the beauty,
all wanting to propose and love her forever,
overcome by a mesmerizing duty.
Count Shevesky stepped forward
and gently took her black-gloved arm,
he too was engulfed with her sensual looks,
and totally smitten by her charm.
They danced all night and he was hypnotized
by her penetrating dark and beauteous eyes
as he held her tightly he dreamed she was his wife,
totally worshipping this woman not knowing her guise.
The clock in the grand hallway struck midnight,
Plasmana's face was stricken with fear as
she fled from the arms of the Count so suddenly,
running as if a hunter chasing a deer.
Empty arms and no Plasmana, the Count chased
after her through the massive front doors,
only to discover her empty gown on the ground,
and a vampire bat flying towards the moors.
Each year when the ball is held in the autumn,
Count Shevesky looks longingly at the front door
for Plasmana the most exquisite woman he ever knew,
wanting to capture her essence once more.
what I wouldnt do to get you in my clutches, crack a couple eggs, break my own legs to smoke a dutch with my duchess, through hazards ready to duke, Ill puke up a ruckus, refute a succubus and pay for a million knuckle sandwhich lunches, punch the paper until its vapor for that proper sustenance even if it shuts down the whole government, im thinking how am i gona date her
cause love conquers, drives barbarians bonkers, berzerk over that twerkin, some booties deserve sponsors but more importantly its what her minds offers, attentive like attendees at a concert as nina simone saunters like an unstoppable monster, packing bowls of sugar, she aint going for that oscar, truth hurts sometimes lies are softer
every dream fostered, ideal and pristine, christened with caramel and ice cream we scream, for these things cause sour grapes might need sweetening, id rather have attempted and lost, then walk off wondering, into that bitter sunset, spending eveings upsept and alone thinking of you wishing youd hit my phone no time for me might mean for someone else, or your over it all and time is for yourself
rib cage pressin, bars of bones mufflin my internal percussion, tho my flow can sound like timpani typically im feeling terrifically, heart beat bumpin, like kids in a bouncy house on steroids jumping, *****cats click the mouse for all types of assumptions, tho this night i was punked by her junk, vacant spaces need stuffin