Best Board Poems
S.S. Forever is on maiden trip
Bad luck starts abusing with ardent grip
There is a fire burning on deck
Could now become an instant wreck
Quick action is needed: scuttle the ship!
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Contest: Limericks
Sponsor: Jan Allison
Placed 1st
Second row to the board!
These words could not just be ignored
I’m thinking but a vintage few
Would even start to have a clue
Nostalgia begs those days at school
With steely nuns whose stare would rule
Blackboards and their squeaky clamor
Chalked Arithmetic and grammar
When called upon to diagram
By row, we took final exam
Our sentence structure, now to see
Whose brain has not been absentee
With prepositions, verbs and nouns
We hit the boards, such eager sounds
Arms held tight, just the right angle
Participles must not dangle!
fingernails
against the chalkboard
-my grinding teeth
About thanksgiving a bunch of turkeys get together,
Have a meeting about sales for the holidays.
About fall they send out that letter.
Well those business folks got to cuss and discuss,
And figure how to gear it,
To make us customers
Feel that holiday spirit!
Here’s the minutes of the meeting,
We’ll skip the high fives greeting.
“All through the mall we’ll have ho- ho- ing Santys
From the computer games to the racks of panties.
Adult book stores will send out Yule tide flyers,
To attract all the spirit filled ***** buyers.
Don’t forget to put some plastic wreaths
Round those expensive briefs,
And the music; what about the music?!
Let’s start the secular Christmas songs,
In time for the black Friday throngs.
Make sure the songs don’t mention God or Jesus,
We don’t want to offend and have people leave us,
Remember Christmas is all about the money,
So let’s spread the ads on thick like honey!
Hide all the advertised sales on goods for this time of year..
And put the top dollar toys and items by the cashier..
So if you business people got more ideas, let’s push them through!
What’s that? Oh yeah…ah…merry Christmas to you too.
MEETING ADJOURNED !”
“(hey Bill, ..about that bikini clad Santa dancing on the new hutch,
I think maybe her pine needle bra is a bit much…..?
What you think?….)”
Inspired by Carolyn D. (too long for the contest, but had fun with it!)
Be warned one and all,
Quija board is not a game,
Because it opens up a
dimensional gate.
Rules were made to be
broken,
fools would think its harmless,
It does not see colour,gender
or race,
Ignorant is not an excuse,
Arrogant are attracted like
flies,
Better be safe than sorry.
You might not be so lucky,
Remember this is not playing,
The proper word is
summoning.
From where they came and
whom,
You can never tell or have a
clue,
The unknown is within reach,
Only god can intervene,
If you believe in hidden
dangers,
too late when the price is
paid.
Darts boards on the wall
There are twelve together
The twelve teams are formed
To make friendship with fun
Everyone throws a dart
For the highest number
Then second,third,fourth
Now the game begins
Some darts thrown hit the floor
The others miss the board
Its not easy as it looks
Some darts hit the walls
The others aim for the middle
It does not happen to often
A lot of darts thrown miss
Never hit the dart board
Some said they lost all hope;
Some did, you saw it in their eyes:
That little light
That shines so bright
Became dull and disappeared.
Some became bitter, some wise,
Some couldn't cope.
That small white
Flicker, once bright,
Slowly went out.
So often that is what I see
In eyes, even on TV,
and I recognise,
For I was there.
I was where
I did despise
What back then became of me.
With everything taken away,
Including your humanity,
And nothing remains
But empty shell,
Sheer hell.
And too tired for complaints.
This terrible insanity
Of war, how some people play
With others as if simple pawns
On a chess board.
With hands high,
To move at will.
Freezing chill...
I still have no reply,
And have no vocal chords
Left to speak up... When will it dawn
On them we're human entities!
Where oh where is my identity...
Have you ever seen
The ‘Baby on Board’ car sign
It shows a warning ---
Having child problems inside
Makes the car now dangerous
Russell Sivey
A New Start
A ship, well-crafted, needs a careful chart.
On the vast sea of life, the vessel starts.
First, fuel her boiler with a steady hand,
Wholesome provisions from a fertile land.
To keep her engine strong, her pistons bright,
She needs the labor of the day and night.
A constant flow of cool, clear, flowing streams,
To purge the lines and feed her waking dreams.
Unfurl the sails to catch the solar rays,
A guiding beacon for the journey’s way.
Let moderation steer, not rush nor creep,
Through quiet channels of the tranquil deep.
Draw deep the breath of pure, unfettered air,
A silent gift, a strength beyond compare.
At anchor, find the calm when tempests cease,
And trust the Pilot brings the port of peace.
The shifting of many corporeal hands move across this dead cell,
A vacuums vortex, a psychic sponge, charging this battery of
Energy called the spirit board.
Paranormal phenomenon striking plate to enter realities plane
Of existence, for the ethereal challenged in crisis, seeking the
Threshold for spontaneous release, unto our spiritual realm.
Witchery’s board of trickery left in a polarized stance it
So entices the living with its tempting whispering of lies,
Incantations gate keepers wait on the other side of evils
Door way.
Memorizing the human sensory functions into a false
Sense of harmless mystery of the unexplained, it lures
These victims ever closer to weaving its spell of the demonic.
These capture being lost unto the hypnotic effects are
Transfixed unable to hit their override switch that controls
Their mental powers of persuasion, disabled is there strength
Of will power, they belong to the Ouija now.
Clasping do all for sides of the curtain of reality, times
Displacement begins in earnest, without hesitations
Momentary loll this dead cell bursts to life.
Black magic key has been inserted within the wooden
Door way’s heart and soul, a bizarre power bank draws
Forth the energy of the spiritual lost, swinging hells
Kept wide open.
The pancetta spins out of control, smashing against
The barriers of humanity, darkened ebony light shines
Through this doorway of evil and the flickering candle
Turns to a shades greenish blue wavering in the odious
Breeze.
The voice of a thousand screams echo in sheer delight,
We have been freed at last, broken is the trance, the boards
Hypnotic effects are dashed by the light of the dawn.
Dazed in bewilderment the voyeurs are chilled to their
Very inward bones, shaking, staring in awes amazement,
Wondering if these events really happened at all.
Then within these tented walls a voice responds to their
Questioning, laughing, as if a jackal at a fresh kill site!
Foolish mortals you know not what you have done, this
Night, but I promise thee this, laughing once again,
In a demonic under tone, none shall leave this domicile
Alive.
The entry doors lock without the human touch, the
Curtain windows pull closed, a momentary stilled
Scream, then all is silent, what remains is left up
To my readers to visualize, as the final candle
Blows out!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
One sister is wise
And infinitely older
The other is recent
And still learning
At one time she
Was admired and respected
But now the golden child
Takes all the love for herself
With waterfalls she
Creates a rainbow
The other uses pixels
In which we can view anytime we like
One kills thousands with wind and rain
To gain attention
While the other
Simply shuts down
One was original
Appearing at the very first
The other was a jealous girl
A half baked idea
The hippies will eat all organic apples
on their way to the Apple store.
At the same time we poets type on our keyboards,
"And oh how the seagulls soared."
We can't pick our family.
We love them both.
Monopoly with its property
Its colored coded squares
Its stacks and stacks of money
Roll those dice for pairs
Get yourself a hotel
Park it on Park Place
If anyone should land there
They’ll be out without a trace
And the corner with the jail
Is the safest place to be
If there’s hotels there on Park Place
And the owner isn’t me
If the game goes on for hours
And I’m losing, it’s a shame
I get antsy, I get restless
And I think it’s a bored game
But
Monopoly and Sorry
The Game of Life and Risk
Clue and Chinese Checkers
How can a kid resist
Maybe Chutes and Ladders
Or a game of Candy Land
And any other board game
That you might have on hand
Parcheesi, Chess and Scrabble
Dungeons and Dragons too
On a rainy day in April
What else is there to do?
Written by mike dailey 5/21/11
*Judy Kones contest - Monopoly
I grasped the steam-iron with left hand,
the right was straightening trouser band;
it felt different, unusual, its hiss and feel,
serpent’s thought made me reel
I imagined it come up from lake, it felt
much like a rattlesnake, its heat I conjured
venomed-fang, turning skin to soft marang:
and devil’s tail its tongue from steam, made
imagined threat so real did seem
So from this thought-experiment, ironing
washing as I went, I learnt to grasp the iron
quite firm, for holding loose could easily burn
So keep your kids and critters clear, of hissing
iron with venom’s sear; and after steam its
plug remove, remember poison will not move
Been about seven years since I've seen them.
Hanging like burnt grapes.
Deep in the throat of memory.
Black tie, black pants. black shoes.
To go with the black smile of tomorrow's blues.
Close to a hundred years she lived, take or give.
Fifty people or so left to live in her wake.
Blue words dance from ice blue faces.
Ancient hiccups to soothe the ages.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
The grave digger waits, leans against his spade.
We've loitered too long in the blackness of our blackest day.
I miss the days when we raced around the board games of our youth.
I was board and i needed something to do so i went to work to develop a plan now i am writing poetry for all my fans. I wrote about this i wrote about that i even wrote one about my cat. Most of the time i just wing it being a good poet you got to know how to bring it. So all your fans will like it and will not want to sling it and fling it in the trash or burn it and choke on the ash. Not all poetry is about being happy and having a blast. Some poetry may bring back memories from your past. I was board and needed something to do so i went to work to develop a plan now i am writing poetry for all of you my fans. Most of the time i just wing it just like i did this one. So i hope you don't fling it and sling it in the trash or burn it and choke on the ash.