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Best Bells And Whistles Poems | Poetry

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The Best Bells And Whistles Poems

Details | Bells And Whistles Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Glimpse

guilty as charged i stole it tall every consonant every vowel every word every sentence plagiarized the ocean in its unique shades of blues and greens combined and blended to create its very own colour a tint i call ocean brave covered in water topped off in water surrounded by water immersed in water stunning the ocean plagiarized the beach in unique shades of beiges and whites combined and blended to create a brand new fabric they call it whiskey white a trillion grains parts unknown the total sum of all unified to act as one the beach plagiarized the cloud in unique shades of this and that combined and blended to create mystery spin the wheel if you wish a blank pallet- blush a perfectly complex complexion- luminous coloured in soft and titillating to the touch- pigment oh the touch- intense light as air immaculate the cloud plagiarized the living in unique shades of everything combined and blended to create a cornucopia of finishes, stains combined and blended the world of the living with all its bells and whistles the unmitigated the undisputed overall the living plagiarized guilty as charged i stole it all every consonant every vowel every word every sentence everything i see i feel i invent i write everything plagiarized from just a glimpse of you i am wonderfully, joyfully sick in love and you are everything i do guilty as charged all of it plagiarized
With Lots Of Love Always, armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017


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Understanding Suicide Understanding Me

Understanding Suicide Understanding Me

Awhile back I had a dear friend contact me to ask if I heard about the young mans suicide at a nearby towns school. I had not. After asking one time on face book if any one of my friends had heard of any such event. My wall began to fill up with details about his life and his personality. His struggles and even previous attempts to end or erase his existence.

He was described as having dreamy eyes by female classmates when he was younger. He was described as the most polite and well mannered but troubled child one person said they had ever met.
Memories of my own changing years flooded my soul as I thought about it all. I did a school report in what they called then Junior High. And my chosen topic was suicide. I've often asked myself why I chose that topic. Today will be one of the very few times I admit it was on my mind a lot during that period of my life. It wasn't because my home life was unbearable. It wasn't because I had no friends or because my young heart had been broken.

In fact I'm only just now realizing it had almost nothing at all to do with my surroundings. It was something within me. Fear certainly had a part to play. Fear of tomorrow. Fear of never really feeling like I fit in. Even though by all outward appearances I was adjusting as well as the majority of people my age.

There was then and sometimes even now this voice. This relentless cruel and demeaning voice always there to remind me. I'll never be good enough. I will always only get what I deserve and that's why I'll never have anything that lasts. Anything that is true. And truly mine.

I was only given a passing grade for my report on suicide because it was obvious the amount of time and effort I put into it. I was told the topic I chose was wrong for a jr high school project. I had failed again. All of that after listening with blood pumping that we could choose our own topic. Somehow my choice wasn't good enough.

I realize now that my very choice for a topic should have sent off bells and whistles throughout the school that one of their own was thinking thoughts of suicide. But they missed it. They didn't see me at all.

Today I don't know why I chose that topic. But I know that one result of it was the saving of my own life. The understanding I gained by being able to see inside the mind that is tormented by unanswerable questions all starting or ending with why? And the realization that to the troubled mind the ultimate answer to fix the most un fixable things.
Is to end it.

This is the point when discussing suicide where fools love to chime in un researched and selfish insensitive remarks revealing their opinions and the fact that they are a fool. 
 A wise man knows only what he knows.
And he does not pretend to have already been where he never hopes to go.

People often consider suicide to be a selfish act. Sometimes referring to it as a cowards way out.

I hate that. And I hate anything that tries to simplify something as complex as a human mind that has reached it's breaking point.

The fact is that to the person in the midst of that struggle. It is the most unselfish and heroic thing that they think they could do.

My point is, that it was my understanding of suicide. It's effects and it's consequences that kept me from crossing that line.

After all the details of this young life surfaced and several hours later my dear friend and I talked again. And without saying it I know she was asking about this path I'm on with my poetry. The tributes to loved ones that have died. The heartache and the heartbreak that I see every day sometimes all day long.

And she asked me. Does all the sadness ever get to you? I responded Absolutely.
There are times I struggle beneath its weight. Sometimes I fall. But somehow I manage to get up again and I keep writing and sometimes when I'm lucky I see someones reaction to a poem where all of a sudden they get it. A life changing revelation takes place in that moment in time. And for a minute. 
I win.

I know the reason I'm alive is to help other people live.

And to find the fullness in their life that I may or may not ever find for myself. It's no longer about me. Because you see somewhere back there that part of me that wanted so badly just to die.

I let it die. And I moved on but not me as I was. A different me. Weaker in some ways and stronger in others. Less proud but more to be proud of. More easily overwhelmed but less breakable.

And so when you see me on the mountaintop and I'm strutting around acting like I belong there. Please. Just let me have that one moment. Because tomorrow I'll be back with the mountain on top of me. Trying to find another way to save someone from going where I have been and hoping to enrich other peoples lives even if it means I know I'm simply going to be passed up along the way.

My reward is you rising above my highest point. My fee for my services? That you never forget how valuable you are. And that you keep pushing forward and never give up.

If you forget me tomorrow. That's ok. But don't forget the things I said.  And don't forget to help someone else along the way.

.

God Bless

Heart Whisperer Ed Hofert @ facebook

Edwin C Hofert


Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015


Details | Bells And Whistles Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Cupid's Golden Bow

Cupid's golden bow and arrow in hand 
always hits the target to the tightest degree
shedding his green skin like the chameleon he is 
the frog began drowning non-stop smiling as
he fell deeper into ocean colors of all shades a pearl
in a deep pool of beauty bathing so bright
he felt an electric bolt filled with deep undercurrents
string sparks fly in the first kiss with all feeling and intention
 
String sparks sizzilin' fly in the first kiss and bring  
dazzling amazing golden warm struck straight
but oh so gallant and oh so wonderful
 
In the heart on fire within passion hot
underneath the stars sailing of into space
inside floating around thoughts off the first mate
desires your affectionate smiles, laughs, and grins 
sings in the mind's eye grace of a thousand swans in flight
into another space over the Milky Way jewels sparkles a star
tender doting to the soul's eyes
floating to you bouncing inside waves
steaming hot seductive lashes 
floating through those curtains we join souls
uniting tender wooing and wonderful woven passion 
softly we forever kiss my love as desire always lays with you
 
I need and crave your love to take me to the edge of the night
dancing in my dreams struck deeply while 
turning this world upside down
into a golden paradise ball with all bells and whistles
that I've wished in my life
 
Cupid's golden bow and arrow in hand 
always hits the target tight and perfect
Always!  Always!  Always!  Always!
 
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman, Collaborative Free Verse Poem, October 16, 2014


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014


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Cupid's Golden Bow

Cupid's golden bow and arrow in hand 

 
always hits the target to the tightest degree

 
shedding his green skin like the chameleon he is 

 
the frog began drowning non-stop smiling as

 
he fell deeper into ocean colors of all shades a pearl

 
in a deep pool of beauty bathing so bright

 
he felt an electric bolt filled with deep undercurrents

 
string sparks fly in the first kiss with all feeling and intention

 
 

 
String sparks sizzilin' fly in the first kiss and bring  

 
dazzling amazing golden warm struck straight

 
but oh so gallant and oh so wonderful

 
 

 
In the heart on fire within passion hot

 
underneath the stars sailing of into space

 
inside floating around thoughts off the first mate

 
desires your affectionate smiles, laughs, and grins 

 
sings in the mind's eye grace of a thousand swans in flight

 
into another space over the Milky Way jewels sparkles a star

 
tender doting to the soul's eyes

 
floating to you bouncing inside waves

 
steaming hot seductive lashes 

 
floating through those curtains we join souls

 
uniting tender wooing and wonderful woven passion 

 
softly we forever kiss my love as desire always lays with you

 
 

 
I need and crave your love to take me to the edge of the night

 
dancing in my dreams struck deeply while 

 
turning this world upside down

 
into a golden paradise ball with all bells and whistles

 
that I've wished in my life

 
 


Cupid's golden bow and arrow in hand 

always hits the target tight and perfect

Always!  Always!  Always!  Always!



Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman, Collaborative Free Verse Poem, October 16. 2014





Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2014


Details | Bells And Whistles Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Virgin America

The faintness of flight overwhelms me
boxed in caged, corseted, in a cattle car of the air
pristine bells and whistles cajole the herd
as the breath is cycled and recycled through the 
bellows of plasticine and metal
germs jumping from orifice to orifice
knees crushing bosoms braced for the portent
the potential
the promise
of the fall.

Faintness elicits only minor response
from the tenders who un-tenderly steer the crowd
small moans garner memories of the mallet falls..
but fail to unseat the kindness 
so needed..sought
watery eyes wave
 and the floor seems the only safety
and still the settlers stay settled in their complacency..
neither rising to gift an aged woman with their perch
or commenting as she hits the floor
ah the joys of twenty first century flight
in the belly of Virgin America.


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012


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Rhyming Poem


A poem that simply does not rhyme: 
In my opinion, has no chime.
The bells and whistles of a rhyming sequence,
Is the kind of music, my ears need frequent!
 How I admire the writer, who rhymes a story, 
 with creative words and is explanatory.
 I am completely raptured by the rhythm of a speaker, 
as he unravels his epic, to the  hungry seeker.
I love those moments of anticipation, 
as words flow with perfect collaboration.

The tales may be true, fictitious, or blue:
about a horse, a dog or even a shrew.
A child, a man, a box in the attic,
pure love, or hate, and also pragmatic!
A saga, a myth, a cow jumping over the moon,
The spring, the winter, or a hot day in mid-June!
The element of immeasurable surprise,
may bring happiness, weariness,  or crying eyes.
You can’t put a number on rhyming possibilities,
There may even be some that bring severe hostilities!

I know there are those that think I am just silly,
 some may even call me a country hillbilly!
One can even assert, that I may be a bit slow,
 since at age forty-nine, Dr. Seuss still sets me aglow. 
For, when it comes to rhyming, I get frivolously delirious.
 I suppose I could add that I am really not that serious!
Now, whatever your style of poem might be,
 don’t for a moment, stop to think about me.
Just be creative with everything that you write,
 and know our God in heaven wants you to take flight!

                                                                                                                Rhyme, Battle
                                                                                                                   10-3-13


Copyright © Stacey Brown | Year Posted 2013


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Toilet Paper Tragedy

I looked around the crowded lobby in the Ritz Hotel in Washington, DC.  I was a little late in getting there as the plane was late in arriving.  Not a problem.  I had the itinerary for the next day's meeting and an agenda that provided me all the information I needed to conduct myself in a professional manner before the executives expected to attend.  

I checked into my room and immediately showered, slipped into my housecoat and stood before the mirror to practice my presentation.  I knew I had it nailed.  Feeling quite confident, I went to bed and slept right through until room service called me at 6:30 a.m.  The meeting was to start at 8:00 a.m. in the main conference room of the hotel.  I showered again, dressed, pee'd and practiced in front of the mirror again.  

I stood at the Podium and began my presentation complete with all my Harvard Graphics bells and whistles.  As I was facing the charts, with my back to the audience, I heard snickering.  It wasn't clear what they were saying exactly, but something about toilet paper and hemline in panties.  I was absolutely mortified!!!


Copyright © susanne bettis | Year Posted 2016


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Cursor Curser

              Cursor Curser


Would there were only one cursor
for one is bad – two is “worser”
amid the streams of vitriol
I watch the drop down menu – fall.

I dread the pop up ads, and spam
the wasted time to make them scram
the bells and whistles, warning lights
that tell me all my wrongs – and rights.

Thus do I wander cyberspace
looking for a friendly face
sipping cold and oily brew
as download light grows slowly blue.

I search books that make minds numb
written by – and for – the dumb.


John G. Lawless
3/22/2015


Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015


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Automania

Hey! What if a computer were a car?
So much more economical, by far!

You see at once advantages galore
With all that high-tech wizardry in store.

A virtual computer set on wheels.....
This surely is the very best of deals!

You rush to buy one of these "guided missiles",
Your automotive "Dell" with bells and whistles.

.................Fast forward now to one month down the road.
Your frenzied brain is ready to explode!

You found your car would crash three times a week!
You had to pay some sly computer geek

To get the blasted engine up and running.
(His service bills were nothing less than stunning.)

You learned that turning on the windshield wiper
Would mean you really had to "pay the piper"!

By sensing you clicked on that wiper part,
Your car would shut down and would not restart!

Your airbag system's totally annoying;
It asks you "Are your sure?" before deploying.

Your precious car insists, as it to scoff,
You must press "start" to turn the darn thing off!

Just when these gimmicks you begin to doubt,
Your car without a reason locks you out!

"Access denied!" until by luck you pressed
At once the grille and hood.  (Who would have guessed?)

You feel betrayed by this hybrid computer?
You should have bought a plain old two-wheeled scooter!



Copyright © John Foster | Year Posted 2008


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Adrenaline Rush

Adrenaline Rush
 
This drug that surges through 
my veins and floods my brain each day.
Giving my brain just the jolt it needs 
in all the right ways!

This electric stimulation is organic.
Nothing bought on the street 
or over the counter would ever compare
to the sparking flares this natural 
drug delivers to me.
 
I find my fix through 
various avenues and pathways
of my life, any way that will deliver 
this potent rush to me quickly.
 
While speeding down the highway,
weaving in and out of cars with 
the radio blasting my favorite rock song.
 
The "endorphin fix" my body delivers
while running across a ten mile run. 
 
A really scary movie, or roller coast will
do in a pinch!
 
The intense buzz 
I feel the moment 
I take my first step
 off the highest bridge 
 I can find with a bungee 
rope attached to my waist.
 
The exhilarating feeling of delivering 
a public speech in front of a crowded room.
 
The bells and whistles 
that sound off in my body as I ski 
down the steepest black diamond path.
 
That fleeting feeling as the blade 
of my skate digs into the ice and 
I project into a triple axel-spin 
in the brisk air.
 
It’s this rush that I enjoy 
running to every day
in my own way,
my adrenaline rush.

I’m so addicted to you!
 


Copyright © Marie Harrison | Year Posted 2010


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Instead Of A Clank It's A Clunk



Instead of a clank it's a clunk A dreamlike sound to my ears That irreplaceable new car smell Not known for many years Instead of a clank it's a clunk I'm driving a brand new jalopy With all the bells and whistles My mood is turning soppy Instead of a clank it's a clunk Musta died and gone upstairs Slapped myself, yup I'm awake Sitting in my underwear Instead of a clank it's a clunk Jumped up at the stroke of six Forgot my knickers so here I sit I'm now in a terrible fix Instead of a clank it's a clunk People start to gather around To know if I like my new jalopy Hope they don't look down Instead of a clank it's a clunk Drove off with a confident air Enjoying my moment of ecstasy Wind messing up my hair Instead of a clank it's a clunk Moments like these are rare So very few times in a lifetime Noticing all the stares Instead of a clank it's a clunk A dreamlike sound to my ears That oh so yummy new car smell Missed it for too many years © Jack Ellison 2013


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013


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A Fairy Tale Prince

As a woman
I live in fairy tale land
I need a man who understands

That I need bells and whistles
Just like men need missiles

I like kisses and hugs
And plenty of love

Fancy clothes and perfumes
Big houses with large rooms

Books that inspire me
Compliments and chivalry

Protect and respect
Is my motto

I’ll follow

The man who will follow my dreams



Copyright © Lara Wash | Year Posted 2014


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Dont Get Me Started

Why is technology more difficult to grasp, the more they try to simplify it? Take the computer for example, when it first came out it was big, expensive and bulky and not in use for the common man or woman. Then a strange group of hybred humans, left their caves, bedrooms and Mama's homes and walked out into the sunlight and into our simple lives and with outstretched hands presented us with the PC and manna rained down from heaven, Amen. These angels were lovingly refered to as 'techno-geeks' and now all those bored housewives could leave the drudgery of darned socks, dishes and present their husbands with a coupon for fast food, junior's carseat, junior and a 'bring me back a Big Mac, large fries and oh yeah a diet coke, got to watch my weight!' She then entered her 'sanctuary' and hubby left to the sound of tap,tap, tapping of little fingers on the keys.

Then someone said, 'I want to do more!' and 'Multi-tasking' was born on the earth and it was all good, Amen! Here I was, wrapped up in typewriter ribbon and having carbon paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe, blissfully unaware of the giants of progress and they searched me out and I was offered a free PC if I signed up for two years internet! 'Interwhat I said?' Then the tech,gleefully rubbed her hands together and whispered, 'My precious!' I could have sworn I heard a couple of 'gollums' in there as well. Six weeks later, a bulky package appears and a brand new silver shiny thing, called a hard drive, I blanched at the word 'hard', a modem, a reference book, big enough to choke a horse, eek and plugs and wires that went somewhere! Luckily my seven year old nephew, put it altogether for me and turned it on. It sat like that for days as I hopelessly sifted through the alien words in my manual, spittle dribbling down my face and a glazed look in my eyes, it making those whirring and beeping noises as if it was annoyed with me. I glanced at my typewriter, but it turned its back to me, highly affronted and saying, 'Traitor!' under its breath.

Well finally after agonizing over the PC, I have graduated to a 'laptop', left gradeschool at last, hallelujah! This comes with all the 'bells and whistles', wifi, bluetooth capability, I have a webcam and I can watch movies, download or upload music and multitask with my hands tied behind my back! Argh, umm, now where did I put that typewriter?

©Jane Richer
01/10/2012


Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012


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Silver Spoons -song-

We choose our scoops with our silver spoons. Try and deny that it's coming soon. 
   Don't fool yourself when you're giving up. Just sip your drink from the dirty cup. 
   And where the fiddler plays. Is where the woodland creature stays. And every single day. Comes and goes in blurs then fades. 
   Now everybody knows you, but you do not know yourself. Loved ones try to save you, from your lost journey toward hell. 
   And it's a shame. You've let yourself go this way. But everything will change. Someday. 

   Dressed in bells and whistles too. Force that smile pretend it's through. 
   But the tides will change with the shift of the moon. And a warm bright day will be fogged with gloom. 
   And where the children play. Will be destroyed and deemed unsafe. And 
everything turns gray. The price you pay for one mistake. 
   Now everybody loves you but you do not love yourself. The hurt and guilt you feel inside is the kind you'll never tell. 
   And it's a shame. You've let the world push you away. But everything will change. Someday. 

   You cannot destroy me but I can destroy myself! I don't want your sympathy I do not need your help. 
   Just kick me down spit in my face and tell me one more time! How much you simply hated me, back when you were mine. 

   So choose your scoops with your silver spoon. I'll deny being in love with you. 
   Don't pride yourself when I've given up. Just force me to sip from your poison cup. 
   And where the earthworm plays. Is where I'll find my peaceful grave. 
   And every single day. Life remains nothing has changed. 
   Now everybody misses you, but you feel right at home. This life has made you realize, you're better off alone. 
   And it's a shame. You let yourself go this way. Everything will change. Someday...
  


Copyright © Timmie Kreth | Year Posted 2011


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Funky Frankenstein

The Mad Doctor said it was official
a solo act with nothing artificial
a fine new creature
with added features
Frankenstein with bells and whistles

Opening night into the audience he jumped
when in his throat he got a huge lump
audience forgot
bic lighters a shock
running away through town like Forrest Gump

The Mad Doctor enrolled him in a class
to overcome his phobia at last
nothing worked
he just went berserk
the class barbecues too much of a flash

Back on stage there was no need to dash
bell and whistle tunes with a lot of class
bic lighter ban
in the stands
his classic hits making a lot of cash.

10-19-17


Copyright © cheryl hoffman | Year Posted 2017


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monica seles

bells and whistles been
somebody kin to me needs
this ol house is was


Copyright © chris bowen | Year Posted 2007


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Yes Indeed

When we made love
I heard bells and whistles

Fireworks no
But missiles!

Our kisses started
A five alarm fire
And we never tired

The sun shined everyday
And we earned our pay

We worked on our love 24-7

We lived on earth
Yet in heaven

We dissipated clouds
With a smile

We even stopped the rain
For a while

I know
Love conquers all 


Copyright © Lara Wash | Year Posted 2014


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WHEN DID ACQUAINTANCE

When did acquaintance
Turn into friendship?
When did friendship become affection?
When did affection change to love?
There were no obvious signs
That I can recall
No waves crashing on the rocks
No rockets in the sky
No bells and whistles
No brass band playing
No symbols crashing
But it has happened anyway
Was it when I saw you enter the room? 
Or when I first heard you speak
Was it when I heard you laugh?
Or when you first spoke to me
Was it when I saw you smile?
Or when I made you blush
Was it when we danced?
Or when we first held hands
Was it when I stared deeply in to your eyes?
And saw into you soul
Perhaps it was while we kissed
Or when we made love
There was no obvious cause
It was not any one of the above
Yet it was all of them and more


Copyright © Paul Curtis | Year Posted 2011


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my place in the sun

                   
                  
                   
                 MY
PLACE IN THE SUN


a life without
giving is a life not
worth living in
truth my mother was
right,
but a life in a home
unsafe and alone was
all that was in my
sight.
upon considerable
reflection their
abuse and rejection
made absolutely no
sense,
but being a kid I
took it I did  I was
too young to take
much offense.
 alone in my room I
did contemplate doom
in the laboring
silence of night,
and hanged my head
with thoughts of
dread with no
glimmer no inkling
of light.
but I made my way
out although filled
with self-doubt I
was unable to face
the truth,
that I had been
changed by the onset
of shame and my
suffering for years
is my proof.
grown up in the dark
with no sense of my
heart lusting for
bells and whistles
galore,
with  shoulds and
must haves and
quotas to mark life
left me empty and
longing for more.
in search for truth
throughout my youth
I found money and
power and fame,
I was distracted by
the lie of glitter
passing by all for
the sake of my name.
now I find myself
thinking on days of
my drinking and
years of chasing a
lie,
the cheating, the
fighting and
constant denying of
a self so consumed
by false pride.
I want to emerge
from the dark where
my hope ignites
spark and my mind is
no longer obtuse,
where the veil has
been lifted with
heart freed to love
and with mercy I
embrace my truth.
where speaking in
verses and walking
with purpose I could
shine brighter than
bobbles I hold,
under shadows of
trees with the earth
beneath my knees
where there’s
treasures for me to
behold.
I’d have no fear of
new faces and could
be in embraces
instead of the whirl
in my head,
and humbly ask
questions and wait
for the answers and
be free from the
pain that I shed.
with a new found
confidence from the
hand of providence I
could feel like I’d
finally won, a life
that is lived from
the inside out if I
could just find my
place in the sun.




Copyright © Christine Costello | Year Posted 2014


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Holding Out Hope

Holding out for hope  leaving out the door
searching high and low tearing past grey
latching on to all the bells and whistles
left hanging out again in the pouring rain

With winds flowing through my speck of being
thoughts sit in waiting to fly across the sea
waves of promise rise up and shine for me
as notes adored walk bravely upon the shore

Watching pretty daisies on a clouded day
Surrounded with love, I think I'll stay 








Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017


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Bells and Whistles

We mostly stick with basics
When we make a major buy,
So recommended bells and whistles
Seem to pass us by.

Yet today we took possession
Of our brand-new Subaru
And to get new safety features,
We were forced to upgrade, too.

For the first time, we’ve a moon roof
We can open for some air,
Which I think I will enjoy, although
I didn’t think I’d care.

We have fog lights and a camera
To provide a view behind
And both seat and wiper warmers, 
Which in winter I won’t mind.

There are sensors that start beeping
If you drift from here to there
And the visors have extenders
To reduce the threat of glare.

So I wonder if to basics
This will make me bid farewells
For I think I can get used to
All these whistles and these bells!


Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2017


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Men that win over her little kitten smile

Men that win over her little kitten smile

For a man
it has been said
that the best way to a women's heart
is thru her little kitten
from Russia to Hawaii
men have said this from the test of time
over and over
those men succeeding 
have been rewarded with a smile
and maybe 
even a lasting friendship
befriend a women's little ball of fur
with tenderness and love
a little patience
and a nice touch
and men have entered thru the front door
with some even sneaking into the back door
it can happen
remember this though, little kitties are playful
maybe even a little innocent
but they like to stretch out 
and have fun
so be kind and gentle
giving that little kitty some playtime
caressing, massaging, pampering
even bringing kitty a treat now and then
kitties like that
like a toy, to spice things up
however  bells and whistles are just fine
and better yet, new tricks 
make kitties purr the loudest
also be cognizant that kitties 
are turned off with bad odors
and bad tastes
so men should give themselves
a good rinsing
and leave their vices at home 
when visiting a women's kitty
it helps, it helps win smiles
remember anything to get past the front door
is a good thing
another thing 
to keep pace with little kitties
men need to bring a little stamina
a little extra pep in their step
to keep it up
with the little ball of fur
remember little kitties can be rascals
so men need to prepare for the worst
and hope for the best
what ever you do
remember, please
never call kitty by the wrong name
you might be smitten
with scratches
lastly
a good sign that everything 
is going well
is when kitty wants more playtime,
rolls it's eyes
and especially...   
kitties incessant 
purring

connie pachecho

1/7/17

non contest entry


Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2017


Details | Bells And Whistles Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Foxy Escort With Her Date

The Foxy Escort With Her Date


He drank his wine, 

savoring it just fine.

His spirits a lift

now he opened his gift

Out jumped a foxy dame

ready for his game

Are you ready for bondage

my little young hostage

Ties and whips

Hot wax and clips

Her young face turned red

not knowing what was ahead

Escort service said it was dinner,

not be a hoar and a sinner

I'm a student at night school

not your playmate and fool

I sorry, I rain on your parade

and can't play your charade

I must go right now

not be herded like a cow

Forget the bells and whistles

then, just soft land on my missile

Sir I'm not that type of gal

that sleeps with any kind of pal

Please take your rocket

and deep pockets ...

To my pent house room

with your flaming fumes

And there's your desire

waiting for your heart's a fire

Huh? Why did you play your game

to light my flame

Huh? Did you whet my appetite

for a long rough night

My dear, you're a good tease

I hope you please

Sir I hope you back the talk

with your walk

It's going to be rough,

let me tell you, and with handcuffs

and Hot wax 

To the max

Sir I hope you back the talk

with your walk

I roll my eyes

to you, I despise

Sir take these pills

To give yourself  more of a trill

You'll need it, to keep up

with this young pup

Again, Sir please don't disappoint me

with your church key

Or your mama's boy

with toys

Oh baby you're good

This is what the doctor ordered

Babe what's your name

Paris Pachecho


connie pachecho

1/06/17



















Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2017


Details | Bells And Whistles Poem | Create an image from this poem.

You Have to Hand it to Couched Bandit

You Have to Hand it to Couched Bandit

There's a cat just like me
A couched bandit on the spree
Her raccoon eyes hankering for more grub
... and another belly rub
Did I say with baby oil?
For she pre-purrs to be spoiled
Carte blanche in her pocket
Bells and whistles on her docket
For the remote control is hers
The newspaper she'll read first
The conversation she'll hoard
Wield, wield her mighty sword
Fur, fur the couch is all hers
That ... should I say, she pre-purrs
This epiphany glistens !!!
Honey, honey are you listening?

10/24/17

Picture Prompt Contest: Write Me Something Funny - Poetry Contest


Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2017


Details | Bells And Whistles Poem | Create an image from this poem.

NOT MUSIC TO MY EARS

#"NOT MUSIC TO MY EARS..."

Beeps, Bleeps, Bells and Whistles in a Hospital Setting, Netting The Feeling to the Ears of Sharp Prickly Thorny Thistles That Nestle's The EARS of One's Very Soul, Rendering COLD Hypnotic, Robotic Timed Unwanted Lyrics In A Setting that's Unsettling and Upsetting...Yet, the Resetting of Unyielding Chimes Define a Disturbed Mind And BODY; I Beg Mercy On Me To Please Stop and Finally Cease...If Only For Few Mere Moments to Receive PEACE And RELEASE From This RELENTLESS CHORUS...A 
CHORESOME ACCEPTANCE WITH NO EXPECTANCE OF SUBSIDING.
MEANWHILE, I SWIM AND IMMERSE IN THIS SYMPHONY CURSE AND THE RHYTHMS INSIDE...COINCIDE

BUT NOT AGAINST MY UN-WANTING.#
 
2/3/2018   ©Renee Denise Gross


Copyright © Renee D. Gross | Year Posted 2018