Best Blast Poems
the beach’ll be a blast
of sand and surf
relax,
of surf and sun
enhance.
the ebb and flow,
a slow
down swish
of flow and romance.
the embrace
of salty air,
that we share,
and seaside beat
of gulls and feet.
a splash
of feet and hands
forming castles
that retreat,
with each push and pull
of the seashell
adorning,
ocean core.
a retreat,
seaside beat,
hot in sun,
a breezy-beachy blast
of romance,
complete with clinking
hurricane glass.
paradise of piña coladas
and sunny smiles
under attentive palms.
back in the sea,
the swish of waterfalls -
plenteous and frothing.
marvelous
enchantment
of vertiginous
waves pulling
me away
from the shore…
5/2/2022
Live life to the fullest, my friend,
Give it a gigantic super blast.
Dive in; we don't know when it’ll end,
Strive for the best; time goes fast.
Dare to dream big, let them scatter,
Share your time with folk you love.
Care about the things that matter,
They’re precious gifts from up above.
Alexis Y.
06/10/2021
Seas Of Black Winds, Blast Walls Of Solid Stone
Fighting against waves, where night's bright moon shines
In thought, a much needed stitch often saves,
future life like seeded cones on green pines.
Sealing doors, when escape demands harsh pays
In their bravest deeds, heroes do much more
than any that in their shame falsely prays.
Deep dark nights, echoes ring chimes very clear
With eternal hope, faith gifts saving lights
loves united, dreams sent forth without fear.
Dawn's bursting gaze, when black night terrors flee
Happiness cuts deeply retreating haze,
as new life and great joy cries let it be.
Seas of black winds, blast walls of solid stone
Tis little help, being bad to the bone.
R.J. Lindley
Feb.21st, 1976
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 18 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 110
Las Vegas nights
Bright flashing lights
Guests arrive in droves
To visit gamble and let loose
Their private jets and stretch limos
Hollywood royalty on tour
Dressed for a neverending gala
The glamour and the pomp
Living it up at The Sahara
Exclusive parties in penthouse suites
Cocktail waitresses in skimpy outfits
Pouring lavish drinks as you desire
High on oxygen pumped through the air
A different era of glitz and glamour
Has less than everything really changed
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.2~ 2020
AP: 1st place 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on February 19, 2020
Originally posted on January 20, 2020
Friday night's here at last ...lets have a blast.
Teenagers dash to discos ...ready to dance
to throbbing beats and combo drums
rythm and blues....kicked off shoes
as rock and roll pours out the heat..
Swaying along... couples dance and sing
swinging to the beat ...that's everything.
reggae to hip hop....... rap and soul
stir up emotions but take its toll.
Kissing and necking .....lips close around bottle necks
draining the draft.....drowning the thought of dreary days gone by
no thought of days to come...or care about outcome.
Older women start weekend cleaning.
Scouring cupboards, doing laundry,
dusting tops... flying mops
vacuming carpets...putting out garbage
no end in sight for the chores to be done
till the night is come and work is done
they slog and clean... till everything gleams.
Old men hurry to the corner bars
for a drink, a chat and a meeting with pals
to watch the wrestling match.....on the TV screen.
Till mignight they stay.. drinking their way through
bottles of beer, whiskey and rum
till their eyes water...and tongues grow numb.
Home to their wives they weave a crooked path
can't even see their way in the dark
Cursing themselves for drinking too much
now sitting ducks for thugs on the watch.
They wake up next morning asleep on the couch
shoes in their pockets ......stale breath in their mouths.
Money's gone...so too are wife and sons.
yet never has there been a house so clean.
Have they learnt a lesson...we shall never know
for the habits continue every Friday night
No one seems to get it right
Enjoy your weekends....but maintain self - repect
for when that is lost...what comes next.?
If you hear the sound of rat-tat-a-tat
It's not a woodpecker or a chattering cat
Tis George F. Latulence an aristocrat
Playing ping pong with his gold crested bat.
A competitor and show-off he deems to be
Dresses each day in his noble finery
Pantaloons his normal fancy day wear
His ancestry, finery, regalia, style flair.
He never shares glory or plays with a partner
Winning trophies for himself, what he is after
Agile and swift, rarely points he would miss
The downside came, when you did get that whiff.
To gain advantage, a parp he would do
Clenching bum cheeks, in case he followed through
High class energy foods for his body to sustain
But his parping was every one else's nose bane.
George on first serve, parped, as he hit the ball hard
Swiftly attacking, George butt did bombard
In that spilt second threw off his opponent
Point gain to George, aided by his flatulent moment.
Silent and deadly they all came out fast
Odourous gas from George nuclear fueled ar$e
If one made a noise he'd give a loud grunt
That was his bum burping cover up stunt.
Knew there was trouble when audiences pulled faces
Some even fainted, brave stayed in their seat places
George didn't care, just wanted top podium status
His methods and thinking obnoxiously atrocious.
Audience faces were different shades of green
People were swaying, some even vomiting.
He called it his ping pong, parp-crafty-art farts
Next point to win, final round about to start.
The ball went to and fro like a speeding fast bullet
George, with match point, he was about to secure it
Hitting an ace, made a spark, that caused a boom blast
Left the audience with mix feelings of relief and aghast.
Breaking news of his death headlines did broadcast
Even able to download from what's called a podcast
George F. Latulence died from a blast from his ar$e,
He blew up one too many, too dense and not sparse.
May The Gas Be With You Farts Part 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
Written 07.10.21
The sillies are popping up thick and fast
Hard to keep up, my archives are vast
My eyes are crossed
From my bum there's exhaust
Really kinda worried bout a nuclear blast
© Jack Ellison 2015
in those suave forties
a musical safety net
till an explosion
Rock ‘n’ Roll group with number one hit
Lead singer with soul till his pants split
Each beat in lyrical farts
Blew away the music charts
Before embarrassment made them quit.
Later on TV, no music requiem just blowin’ out the wind.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,"
Israel's war crimes, a brutal truth..
The statistics are glaring and growing more bleak.
One thousand Gaze an children killed every week..
Fathers in anguish, mothers drown in their tears,
their babies now gone before their first year..
Every fifteen minutes a child killed in their blast,
while one in four are starving now, some eating only grass.
For those that survive while in harms way, are losing
their limbs as the bombs splay.
12,000 innocents, undeserving of their fate,
while the rest of the world just watches and waits..
47% of Gaza's population are children.
We were strapped in ready for take-off,
the engines churning all around us.
We'd longed for this moment,
but when it came we were scared rigid,
wondering if we'd survive.
"Countdown to take-off!" the captain roared.
Gritting our teeth we made ready.
pushed hard into our seatbacks with stomachs
turning cartwheels we were off at last!
bright lights and bogus noises
surging from under the blankets.
There was a wobble and a whistle,
the signals to burst out at warp speed.
Our bodies felt the rush, the rumble
and finally the jolt of the touch down.
"Look out the peephole! We're on the moon!"
the captain cried. And sure enough, we weren't
in Kansas anymore. The moonscape was
strangely full of familiar looking objects,
Grandma's afghan flowing like a river,
what looked like the pillows
from Jimmy's bed, crumpled like space debris,
and my school project, a volcano
puffing out baking powder.
Yep, this was the moon alright.
"Imaginations still intact," Jimmy yelled,
"but how are we gonna get home?"
Thirty three below zero with windchill
freezes exposed flesh so very quickly.
Scarves wrapped round and round make winter mummies
covered head to toe against the bitter cold.
I set out on my destiny.
I set out on my journey.
And when I set my eyes on you.
There came the strongest feeling.
A feeling of joy ran through my heart.
A feeling of joy ran through me.
Because a blast of love ran through my heart.
A blast of love ran through me.
A powerful feeling in my heart.
A blast of love ran through me.
Now.I know there were times.When I was blind.
Blind of the things about you.
Those days are gone.
There's times ahead.
I'll try not to live without you
Because a feeling of joy, just crossed my heart.
A feeling of joy ran through me.
The Godess of love, just passed my heart.
Venus, I know you're out there.
Because a blast of love, came rushin' through me.
A blast of love came rushin'..
A blast of love ran through my heart.
A blast of love ran through me.
A powerful feeling in my heart.
A blast of love ran through me.
A blast of love ran through my heart.
A blast of love ran through me..
Song-By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1985,2015..ALL rights reserved..
I grew up in the rockin 60’s
Everything back then was new
Rock ‘n’ roll and Chevy’s
There wasn’t anything we couldn’t do
Hot rod Fords and street drag races
The girls wearing cashmere sweaters
The thrill of youth that showed on faces
That easily laughed at serious matters
Saturday night sock hop dances
Slow dancing with your steady girl
Sneaking a glance at other girls
Thinking maybe next, I will give her whirl
Oh, we had our gangs, punks and hoods
But everything was settled just by fists
Honor was always avenged, as well it should
But black eyes topped the list, not death
Mellow days and careless nights
Drive-in movies, who watched the show?
The heavy petting, and then the fights
“You’re my steady, but that far I won’t go”
The slow drive back to take her home
The sweet goodnight kiss outside her door
The promise that I would never roam
The secret wish she would give me more
Life was tough, and hard to take back then
Or so we thought, but soon would learn
Boys grow up, becoming men
Go places where men die, and bodies burn
It all happened so suddenly
A heartbeat, a blink of the eye
It all happened so viciously
One day to live, next day to die
High school grads, college illusions
Hot rod Fords, and street drag races
And then began the Western Union
“We Regret….” were all the traces
Left of lives that once lived for life
Those that did come home to peace
Now live with lives full of strife
And only wish the pain would cease
On December 7, 2013 a bomb blast killed former Lebanese Minister, Mohammad Chatah and several others. Less than an hour ago, another bomb blast took place in the Dahieh area in Beirut. My husband is away....my daughter is out at a friend's house, and I'm sick to my stomach of not knowing......where is safe, where can we go? This is the latest Post on FB by a student of mine showing a picture of the explosion. "New Year....New Bomb."
I'm tired of this. I'm tired of the rest of the world turning a blind eye. I'm tired of feeling guilty because I'm in my nice warm house and there are Syrian refugees living in tents. There are little children dying of the cold. I'm tired of hearing of the blood of martyrs being spilled. I'm tired of hoping and wishing for peace for this country and knowing....it will NEVER be. I'm tired.
I'm tired of reliving fear. Tired of worrying about the safety of my brother who lives in the downtown area where all the political figures have their mansions. I'm tired of hearing him talking about some embedded glass shard working its way out of the skin of his face...even now. He and his wife were injured in the bomb blast that killed Prime Minister Rafic Hariri years ago, scarring their faces for life.
I'M TIRED OF THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I AM TIRED...
Eileen M Ghali
I stepped outdoors to moist air brisk
As fallen leaves in circles whisked
Accompanied by swishing trees
Which symphony could only please
And, aah, no blast of humid heat
Engulfed me in my driver’s seat
I lower the window, mist blows in
Soothes my asthma, fans my skin;
Now the drizzle just began
Nice and cozy in my van
Driving up the street serene
Taking in the autumn scene