Best Bargained Poems
the waning moonlight thinly enveloped
the dusky canvas obscurely sprawling
across the way from the window I looked,
I knew a park was there with slides and swing
but for the moment dark revealed nothing,
for the moment I didn’t care, either
because in darkness I felt even darker;
I was lying in bed embraced by regret
of decisions of love and time wasted,
spooning the layered sheets of doubt and fret
all thawed out from my heart into my head;
The memories of hurtful comments said
by and to me were chastising voices
of ghostly choices purposed to depress;
As dusk became the night I became lost
in whimsically strewn wishes and pleas
to gods and stars and genies alike, crossed
as eyes crying for mother drowned in seas,
I spoke to nobody but begged for keys
to unlock another time, another place
to start all over again with new space,
To unseen gods I had long since quit on
I prayed, bargained even, another chance
and I’d do everything right this season
- A jobless man needing a pay advance,
But for thirty three years nary a glance
had alpha or omega set on me
and this night I expected no divine decree;
several hours elapsed as I collapsed
in smoldering thoughts of suicide fanned,
- I had outlasted night’s concealing grasp,
and as the morning sun began its planned
ascent, I gave into Hades’ command
through my tenth floor window whispered to me
of hellish suggestions to jump and flee;
on ledge I stood and looked across the way
for one last glimpse of earth and pastel sky,
- a small souvenir of my final day,
My eyes settled on last night’s park from high
above, and that’s when I saw God’s reply,
- an unspoken answer for eyes turned blind,
His deafening promise to all mankind;
by his heavenly brushes came colors
where none had been, transforming lonely space
into one of vibrance and life renewed,
- and it was a different space,
I watched as birds celebrated morning
with songs of praise and thankfulness,
- and I felt a quick waning emptiness,
I heard the children below lining up
for the school bus all on time and ready
to live and learn in this new day granted,
- and I felt like I knew nothing at all;
but then I knew everything all at once,
and I stepped off the ledge ready to live,
ready to embrace
ready to seize life found…
in another time.
Oh seed of Dante, dost thy path
in mid-life's turning gone astray
upon a sylvan darkness hath
to tread a rut with feet of clay?
Wast thou that youth of virtue pure
who bargained not with Judgment Day
untempered green convictions sure
before life's tests induced decay?
Didst compromise and circumstance
thy dreams of glory put away
to promise them a second chance
if thou but wouldst concede delay?
Rejoice upon thy wisdom learned!
With youth's illusions purged away
there's still a kingdom to be earned.
Persist, persist, and find the way!
June 28, 2014
WAIT!
the poet laughed
there's love to document
there's passion, there's hate!
WAIT!
where's my pen, my typer?
my life is my art
Living passed by and the world did it's thing, rotating, tilting, and changing
but the poet sat idle, conjuring thought
he dreamt aloud, awake
of simple times
he drank
he smoked, lied, and bargained
yet never put into motion
what realities he should have, could have sought
funny how it happens for the poet
poetically tragic, this nothing whatsoever
WAIT!
cried the overweight, medicated poet
cornered by walls of his own brain
such a creative mind wasting away
a mind with fingers
no friends, and without eyes
the Poet scurried, smelling rain one day
so he looked to the window and wrote "Thee Greatest Poem Never Spoke"
trees gave leaves to fall and winter gave way to crawl
then blew it's load
the poet spoke again,
WAIT!
these beauteous seasons are the very reason my pen leaks prolific ink of lines so great
then spring sprung
bells rang and flings flung
but the poet failed to dare to love
women and children and angels passed his tearful face
and he gasped
WAIT!
I must write and express and show this amazing grace
sadly summer came and went again
upon it's glorious exodus the poet wrote and wrote
more and more of stars he never saw
and of rain his skin failed to feel
and of things he could only imagine
tears of everything doused the poet's pale cheek and he ate the pain which enveloped him
dim lights appeared as a nightmare
and finally one bright light of tunnel vision sizzled his name
the name he'd long since forgotten
just like everyone else
wait...the poet whimpered
wait...
tho' fate
would not,
could not,
WAIT.
The Dying Game
Joe Dougherty
Fleeting images in the fading light
A whispered voice… "it will be all right"
Evening draws and the shadows blend
Another day's fighting has come to an end
Tensions ease around the fire's light
Brings a calming peace to the gathering night
Cooling embers in the waning flames
Blissful slumber… it's time out in the game
Thoughts of glory now fade away
When brother vs. brother we did play
They sent the young to pay this debt
Of winless victories and blameless regret
Disparaging chiefs of the burial mounds
Spilt our blood upon this ground
For reasons, not ours to know
They write off, like a bad floorshow
The old soldiers they gather round
Laying wreaths on hallowed ground
Declare the price as freedom's due
Now simply words that don't ring true
NONE FEAR HERE they all proclaim
Willing pawns in the dying game
Now broken souls as home they go
To places they no longer know
The cost they paid in this day's fight
Leave fewer faces in the fire's light
Tear stained eyes that look away
No greater debts could they pay
This is more than I bargained for
Shut-up kid, you're in the war
NONE FEAR HERE they all proclaim
Willing pawns in the dying game
6/28/2009
I got out my pipe and stuffed it with pot,
You better believe, it held a whole lot.
I whipped out a lighter and thumbed up a flame,
Then sucked down that smoke which comforts my brain.
I tried alcohol; and smoked cigarettes,
Though, they did nothing, but give me regrets.
My mom had arthritis and couldn't walk around.
When I rolled her a joint, she danced on the ground.
I thought I was losing my lovemaking knack,
But, after I smoked some, to me it came back.
Soon I decided prices were too high,
So I searched for some ground I wouldn't have to buy.
I bargained for seeds from smokers all around,
Then, got in my truck and drove out of town.
I walked through the woods where the wild birds nest,
And found me the meadow I thought was the best.
I dug up the ground and sowed all my seeds;
Then said a small prayer for strong, healthy weeds.
I watered at night with a five-gallon pail;
The mosquitoes went hungry for I wore a veil.
Eight months went by; I thought I would die,
'Till the Halloween moon was high in the sky.
One night I went out, in my camouflage suit,
And used a corn knife to chop down the loot.
I hung it up to dry where it couldn't be found.
Then came back and got it, when it had turned brown.
I trimmed off the buds, and stuffed them in bags,
Called all my friends and passed out free drags.
In less then a week, my crop was gone!
But, I flew to St. Thomas with love-hungry blond.
You have a schedule;
we have our problems -
you don't want to hear about it.
You only care about loving us,
you only want to laugh, not cry.
You have been bargained for
like a second-hand item,
but you are a first-class person.
I have watched you suffer
from this terrible fate;
you didn't have anything to do with it,
it will never be your fault -
I promise you that.
You are a blessing from above;
we have darkened that blessing
with our stupidity and stubborness.
All you want is peace and
wholeness once again;
all we want is to be separate,
but we both want to share your life.
Forgive us!
Forgive me!
I've fractured your life,
I've divided your time,
but most of all,
forgive me for not being there
when you most need a hug;
my soul always cries for you,
you are my child...
the one pure gift from above.
Please forgive me, my child.
For "Free For all" contest sponsored by Leighann Anderson.
Sarah Shopper!
Coupon please budget-y listen
and bankruptcy understand
That ATM Terminator is out there —
It can’t be mall bargained with,
nor consumer reasoned with
An Automated Teller Machine
doesn’t feel purse pity,
or cancelled check remorse
Or insolvency fear
And it absolutely
will not cash register stop,
checkout ever!
Until you are empty pocket dead
It came upon me unawares
As I bargained to make a living.
Thus absorbed in daily cares
The years I deemed forgiving.
Getting old was ages away
I told myself each new year.
"I'm still young," I liked to say,
"I'm certain to stay right here."
But the clock began to chime
Messages in muted tones.
I was running out of time,
A blackening in the bones.
I felt it too in others' acts
Addressing me as sir.
They excused my mislaid facts
Ever pretending I didn't err.
A godly mercy attends old age,
The past becomes a blur.
It eases one off life's stage
Thinking things that never were.
Upon the path to self-destruction,
noticed I, a quaint obstruction.
Barrin' me to stay my course
was fear, envy, doubt and remorse.
"Imagine it!" to meself says I,
"Tis for these thing' I long to die."
An' so, I set me down to think.
"This bodes not well! Were't the drink?"
When at that moment, me eyes was soak't,
an' a blazin' tow'r o' fire an' smoke
appeared 'afore my sot'n feet
an' I prayed: "Dear Lord!
My soul do keep!"
As I fumbled the words
to the prayer of the Lord,
bespoke he to me:
"What are ye here for?"
Now, gath'rin me wits
with me eyes from the floor,
Ah I cleared me throat, an' this I swore:
"Dear God Almighty, can ye' please
forgive this trespass.
As you see, I know not what
I bargained for, and I am sorry,
my dear Lord."
Quite sober now
as I could be,
the Lord then spoke
these words to me;
"My child, from where thy feet now stand,
look to the east, where sun meets land.
Beyond those hills I raised of yore,
there once were lands, that are, no more.
Tongues that are no longer spoken
and vows that are, many,
long since broken.
Now look to the west,
where the sun meets the sea.
There are mountains yet raised
known only to me.
Cities to come, that shall never be,
and races of man, that no man shall see."
He paused, and I reflected on these,
then he added, to sum it all up, it seemed;
"Ages before I had ever begun,
I knew this very day would come.
I chose this hour, I chose this place,
and I chose you to recieve this grace.
So, be not troubled, child of mine.
You were meant to be here, at this time.
Do you still want to throw yourself from on high?"
"Dear Lord no! I don't want to die!
Now, more than ever, I want to live!
And I fell to my knees,
and I worshiped him.
I am fearful and full of dread,
As I lay here on our marriage bed,
We have had yet another fight,
And as yet it is our end of the night.
He says he wants to show me he only cares,
But it is not love I feel, as I lay there.
I say, "No I am to sore and in pain."
He moves forward anyways as my tears fall down like rain.
I beg and plead and say, "Please no more"
But that is not what for me he has in store.
I give up as my claims fall on deaf ears,
I just lay there in my pool of tears.
I know he knows what he is doing,
That this is not my choosing.
What once was an expression and an act of our lovemaking,
Has now become something that he thinks is his right in just taking.
The days that I used to crave and hunger for his touch,
Have now turned to an act I must endure as such.
Even though he knows this is wrong and our fight has really had no end,
He believes that in this and this alone our love will transcend.
As he is holding me there on that bed,
Another world is where I go in my head.
He is my husband and I am his wife,
I can't believe this has become our life!
I lay there numb of spirit and mind,
Waiting and waiting for the end of time.
I think of all the ways that I can make him pay,
But in the end, as usual, I stay!!!
This is not the life I bargained for,
There in this life has to be more.
Why with this one man is it hard for me to walk away?
With any other man, I would not stay!
Now the time has come that I can take no more,
Though the time has not come to settle the score.
He begs and pleads for me to stay,
He can't bear for our love to go away!
I still love him and I know that is sick,
But we cannot help who our hearts pick!
I can, however, leave him alone,
I won't write nor will I phone.
His days of cruel treatment and torture so vile,
Are long over, there will be no trial!
I have become judge, jury, and executioner in this relationship!
You can bet there will no more second trips!
Time to move on and to heal,
I cannot and will not give him an appeal.
A new life is what I am forever bound,
A new love is what I found.
He does not get all of me,
For now, he is fine to let me be.
Will I ever be able to love again with all my heart?
Who knows, but now is the time to start.
They are not from Chiang Mai,
they are a tribal people
who speak a hill language.
They ride through the night
on bicycles to settle at dawn
beside the Ping River.
Girls' unroll rattan mats
squat beside straw hats brimful
with the tang of burgundy chilies
They have vegetables
grown in lime green waters,
parched salty anchovies,
and plump spearheads
of opalescent fish -
all these are bargained for,
bundled in newspaper,
tied with pink raffia.
Our lives cross here.
A few coins dropped into an open palm,
nods and smiles by a river,
a common currency bridging
alien worlds.
Crazy Mick the Irishman, with trademark bike and overcoat,
wheeling his way back into town, classed as a tarnished silly goat.
His hair was long and curly; spoken words barely understood.
His manner gave impression he's up to no flamin’ good.
Shopkeepers grew an extra eye toward their advertised outside,
watching Mick out on the street as up and down he'd ride.
This man was on outcast; different to the folks they know,
a little dirty; is a vagrant, and he acts a little slow.
Mick’s first stop the butchers shop; bargained for a ‘snag’ or two.
The butcher he felt pity, so threw in an extra few.
This pleased Mick no end as he left the butchers door.
His feast was quick and final; ate the meat been given raw.
The pub through past experience had little time for Mick,
for beer became his nemesis; urged forward his fighting trick.
Too many times Mick’s antics had forced him to the street,
with bloodied nose, blackened eye; always getting beat.
Compromising was the bottle sale - take half a dozen and then go.
Sit over by the railway line and then drink them nice and slow.
Young kids without feelings teased Mick in his toxic state,
laughing as he chased them, for he'd stagger and gyrate.
When Mick disappeared, our town wondered where he went.
Had he found a home! Had he died! Where has his time been spent!
It seems in potato season when the pickers were required,
Mick was slogging in the paddocks where potato tops had died.
The 'swampy' people honoured Mick, for he had no fear of sweat.
He'd bend his back the furthest; earnt the spud farmer’s respect.
They saw a different person than the townie’s man un-trusted.
Hard working in the hot sun; not the drunk so often busted.
Mick perished one cold winter, alone inside a pickers shack.
Long after picking season ended, so what had brought him back?
He must have known his life was ebbing; left for where he felt no shame.
Spud farmers heads bowed 'round his grave - but not one townie came.
Many plan to live for ever
But can only try
Death always visits
No matter how hard we cry
Faith in longevity is ill-judged
Life spans vary
Time rolls by
One day we are welcomed
Another we have to say goodbye
To be distressed about death
Is to want to go on and on
None can out last the end
The biggest question is WHEN
Living and dying are twins
That cancel out each other
Only one can take the stage
But they are eternal bedfellows
The only truth we know
Is that we who live must die
This is our only steadfast truth
Any other idiom is a lie
When we are stone cold
That’s when life stops
An obvious statement
That the daily grind of living cannot forget
Three score ten?
That’s a myth from way back then
You are here one minute
And gone the next
All before you live
The life you thought best
Death is here to stay
It outlives the now
It cannot be bribed
It cannot be bargained with
It just takes as it sees fit
Luckily it only comes
After you have lived
The One Percent
I have outgrown longevity
and poverty has taken the best of me
and now I am an indigent hack
I stopped dying my long hair black
it would wise to speed up my demise
to smoke , imbibe and pack away carbs
to swill the wines of Government need
to live my life without despair
then die for no one else will care
Theres nothing more for me to fear
but then we have Obamacare
Someone has bought your American Dream
and collectively bargained the Unions out
who created the once known Middle Class
which is now replaced with American Greed
How much money can you spend
until you reach the bitter end
for helping somene can go far
In the scheme of life of
how much is enough
avoid the third martini at the bars
limit yourself to just five cars
The French Riviera is no more nearer
Then Deerfield Beach in your area
think of all the dough you’ll save
to pay a tax for the struggling knave
or someday you’ll lose everything
and say to yourself what have I done
To join into the paupers fun(d)
This is NOT a political poem-just satirical fun
Postmodern Blues
Our bare-footed ancestors
Diligently traversed the grassy pathways
On rustling vegetation air walked along
Sunshine and rain in turn tiptoed
To bestow canopy of reverence
They wished us to watch
Soil sprouting bliss
Hills rolling down lush carpet
Pristine waters meandering around
The way they watched them doing
Tomorrow was all that mattered!
As tomorrow stands uncertain
In power games now a days
We better trudged up the silky ladder
In cross wind
We even surrogated the womb of sky
For lustful pearls to be incubated
Dead waters whimper in lonely furrows
Strings of air have spun a smoky mess
From dangling veil
That technology came forward with
To fix the gap
Both the worlds stood to benefit
You bargained your life style for gold
We are blinded watching you relish
Your abundance
You look anything but cool, honey
Nevertheless few of the have-nots tempted
To jump the fence
Only to sacrifice their reverie
Into sarcophagus fire
With their wives and children
As they failed to keep their hearts behind
You can hear the earth bloating
Like sacrificial goat
With throat at risk
Of pious killing
By future conquerors!