Best Bobbles Poems
Not the wisping grasp against the parchment
That licking click of writer as he tpyes
The cold inanimates touch of skin on screen
Memories only shorter I eye aye the Scottish yes
Scrapes and scrawls on cave dwelt walls
Truncated truck trimmed in intricate trestles
Who was the first message in a bottle for
Bobbles of sheerest ink like Scottish lochs
as.morning mists turn solid for a movement
I enjoy being wrong
Keeping pictures of the dead to the soon to be
Words the unleashed an atom
Words that end wars
illlusions putting fuses to the con
My muse has left
So I better be …….gon
Solid gray skies
Over daylilies trying to bloom
Several different species so colorful
Open only a day, live life to the fullest
What have I done with my nearly 29,151 days
Birds fly in
Mostly to feed from birdseeds
The feeders need a refill so they can eat
Those birds usually fly in, overfill before a rain
Another day of possible showers so they have to eat
Fresh seed put out
Mockingbirds zoom across flowerbeds
Land, catch a bug, zoom out
Another mockingbird lands on the cement
Bobbles along like a roadrunner
Redbirds flock in
Hit the red feeder that matches his color, perfect camouflage
Boy, he is eating gourmet food
From the buffet
Rakes out what he doesn't like
Sparrows fly in
Feast upon the discarded seed
That landed upon the cement
They gobble up those small seeds
Fill up in just a small amount of time
Female red cardinal
Flies in and lands on a wood feeder, aged, grayed with time
It seems to match her color perfectly
She is harder to see since she blends in
She fills up and flies away
Amazing
No susurrus in the pines
No crows cawing all the time
Just the symphony of songbirds tickling my ears
And the cymbals clanging out woodpecker's notes
A few minutes out on the porch
How it makes my day
Now a zephyr begins to move
Stirring the asparagus and spirea
Wow! A break in the clouds.
The sunlight beams
Casting its morning light
Across my wildest dreams
A flower garden with more plants
To feed the birds, bees and butterflies
Thank you
God for your creation
For your gift of flowers
A mixture of clouds, rain and sunshine
All of life upon this earth
Love to the USA
Sweatshops in Haiti
Twenty machines in row
Sewing T- shirts that say
I LOVE the USA
12:23 noon 7/ 6/ 2013
granddaughter brings home from 4th July parade bobbles, candy & t-shirt made in Haiti saying
I love USA. That was the Olympics as well as a lot of things .
She's awash in contradictions.
Though you just might fall in love
with those big doe eyes.
She'll put you on a pedestal.
To her, you can do no harm.
She is a friend to the very end.
Still, she could bring you to your knees.
She dislikes being rude, crude, or vulgar.
Though she will straighten out that picture.
She doesn't like negative or toxic people.
Not necessarily shy, just aloof in her ways.
As she's dreaming of some magical place.
She loves sparkling bobbles and dancing till dawn.
She'll cry at the movies or the slightest of slights.
She'll invite the angels in from out of the cold.
Sometimes you'll think she's afraid of the world.
But give her a cause, then you'll see.
That steel backbone and endurance in adversity.
You might think she's most adaptable.
As you try to bend her all the wrong ways.
She'll say, you can't make me do it that.
Then she'll laugh as she's walking away.
At times she'll need reassurance from you.
Things will be OK, she just might not want to,
Jump off that cliff today.
As she whispers goodnight in your ear, she'll
Ask the angels to keep you safe and warm.
You might think she's a bit scatterbrained.
Till she shows you what you're looking for.
Yes, she might be a hope chest in contradictions.
But, she'll leave you with a smile, as she moves
the tides inside you all the while.
4 pm 7/ 13/ 2013
A fugitive from society,
A fugitive from the makers of the nook,
A prisoner in my special school,
A convict to the female OT department, look.
Not needing occupational therapy from a woman,
From a girly woman who had no depth,
Who used Yuhu to stick a philosophical view of life onto her,
Who used bobbles, hairspray and lipstick maroon;
Who represented inequality in healthcare,
Where there’s so many more women than men,
Who validated your parents fully,
Before they cheered up your ben,
They didn’t meet me, but did play,
Without going out of their way.
But it was all my fault abstractly,
Although i know it was not because i was only two and three quarters,
When i replied to the doctor that i was ok when i was not,
When i answered to him about what was within, about what I’d got,
Instead if replying to him straight.
The other doctor, the school doctor has done fine with me though,
And i never ran away from him,
So he helped me with my problem at university,
When we were both studying to win;
I could talk to him at anytime at school,
Supposedly, because the other kids shunned me for talking to him too much,
Since they thought that my slow physical development was funny,
Not worth inquiry or pout,
When i found it an injury stout.
But I learnt that society wasn’t the initiator of school medical structures,
That they were different, that my culture was not delinquent,
And that i fitted in neatly and with eloquence,
To gain my independence and not sin;
By intelligent society i was accepted,
And could overcome and win.
Streaks of daylight
bouncing off colored glass
dancing bobbles of light
splash across the wall
Streaks of sunlight
streaming through the prism
dancing rainbows of light
splashed across the hall
Streaks of twilight
twinkling through the tears
dancing with merriment
splashed across your smile
My dog's stomach sounded like a washing machine set on high and hot.
He was laying between my mother and me Off the couch,
but not because we told him to, the couch was too covered with stuff.
Pillows, a bag of knitting needles and yarn, technical devices,
strings and bobbles all of which he would refuse to touch.
He does get on the couch, but not when it's covered with stuff,
stuff vs dog, stuff wins.
There was thunder crackling outside like semi-trucks on a bumpy road
and it had been muggy all day, like a stray tarp had fallen over the sky
and there was no escaping it, just dull, dreary, dank life. Hot too, it was 80s easy.
The thing is, my dog's afraid of storms, usually, well, only if my sister
and my father are around. If it's just my mom and myself, he's fine.
Today, it was just us.
After the thunder started we heard this gurgling, and she thought it was me
and I knew it was him on the floor staring lazily at the TV with his ears flopped out
like a bunny eared antenna which was a bit loose and wiggled out to the side.
That was his relaxed pose, one foot folded under him, invisible like an amputee
the other paw out as a shield to his mouth when really it was his third side
of a triangle toward stability. This was his lazy pose, and yet
his stomach was rolling like a pot of boiling water in a bag
gurgling, and sloshing, and bubbling about.
The funniest thing was that it had an ambient noise quality to it
like white noise that never stopped, but occasionally it would gurgle out his mouth
and he would turn his head a little and look up at one of us,
A lost puppy afraid to be afraid because maybe, scraps? So we cracked up
laughing, and he stuck his head back down with the weight of a dead car.
Three Birds on the Ticket? Ok, I'll Pick It.
In 1776, a decision was made as to which bird would be the symbol of America's beginning. If the choice had been mine, this would have been the result...
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
First there is a TURKEY, entered as a bird of choice,
but thinking of the ludicrous sound of his gobbles,
I could not choose this one because of its silly voice.
The head of this fowl should be on a toy that bobbles.
I must agree that the EAGLE is quite an elegant creature.
This hunter's fierce eyes make him appear quite ferocious,
But because of his baldness and other distinctive features,
a bird of prey for a national bird is nothing short of atrocious.
I've decided that my vote goes to a bird known for peace.
Noah hopefully sent one out from the Ark, a white DOVE.
A symbol of hope that all warring should desist and cease.
Shouldn't a national bird also be a symbol of peace and love?
A dove should never be considered as weak.
Do not under estimate the bird or his worth.
It's a sign of strength to be humble and meek.
God said, "The meek shall inherit the Earth."
1776: The Eagle, the Dove, or the Turkey contest
Fluffy white snow is falling;
roof tops, gardens and evergreen
trees become white jewels in the
landscape glittering in the
winter sun.
Colour blooms within every
home; tinsel, lights and family
members stressing over tangled
Christmas lights and tarnished
bobbles that were once shiny
and new.
Christmas trees dominate every
home but each one unique for
no person decorates the same;
some are tatty but still loved
all the same then yet others
are beautiful and perfect but
rarely truly appreciated.
Slowly an assortment of presents
grow at the feet of the tree,
each one covered in glittering
paper and ribbons.
Joy spreads like wildfire when
one hears carols sung, many
bring back memories of childhood;
smiles form instantly for the magic
of Christmas captures us all for
we all have an inner child that
erases all maturity regardless of age –
the magic of Christmas?
It’s alive in everyone.
The belle of the ball and most frightening of all is Sticky Fingers McRaccoon.
He knows how to win, and how to get in, with his gang, of crazy ragamuffins.
He’s never invited, but won’t ever be slighted, as he comes along, for a crime.
And the birthday bash, yes, that he did crash… for a fun filled jolly old time.
We kept our eyes, on him, all the time, but found later, we’d been bamboozled.
As we watched him, someone broke in, and our shiny bobbles, had been hustled.
We were humbled to know, we’d been treated so, and vowed to get vengeance.
Instead of making a fuss, we got FunkunDilly, to follow him home, in silence.
You see, a squirrel can climb, and see, from way up in the trees, to reconnoiter.
Not only our goods, but all other’s too, were caught quite true, with our ardor...
While Sticky Fingers McRaccoon, slept with joyous dreams, of glorious plunder.
But when he woke up, he was surrounded by Trolls, with faces meaner than badgers.
Now violence is not what we sought, rather a job, that would suit them, quite well.
His plunder now gone, and clubs close in Troll hands, he agreed to, our bombshell.
He and his gang, were bespelled, by our neighbor witch, to forever live in Las Vegas.
With Trolls to supervise, a Magic McRaccoon Show, would be totally, tremendous.
McRaccoon wasn’t mean, he’d just lost his dreams, you see, that were so wonderous.
Now he was free, to make a great dream, in a way that was so bubbly, and contagious.
Siegfried and Roy, look out my boys, McRaccoon is on his way, to massive greatness.
All because he stole Lilly’s toys, and FunkunDilly had brought down their crimes, demise.
There would now be magical shows, where the front seats, would be ours, to plunder.
Trolls would arrive, to help at all times, as friends they all slowly, became, forever.
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.
“Don’t take candy from a stranger,”
My mother said,
Unless you’re dressed like Frankenstein
With a hideous mask on your head.
If Christmas is about a baby’s birth,
Why do we buy trinkets and bobbles,
For all daddy’s worth?
When that baby died,
And rose from the dead,
To celebrate they told me,
A rabbit can lay an egg.
Sonnet.
I touched upon a dream perfectly chorographic
as a ballet troupe of sardines avoiding predators.
A dance where no one applauds and everyone
is a loser, sad except for the mysterious beauty
of shimmering silver in a bottle- green ocean.
I touched upon a dream sparkling as fizzy wine
bobbles clung to cool glass disappearing with
plop- a momentarily rush of happiness- murmour
of voices; then the wine was still, yet for a second
the of mysterious wonder is remembered.
I touched upon a dream cold as a winter forest,
blue, frosty mist wrapped around trees; layers
of snow on the lake of recollection, but one day
a mysterious flash; and all will be remembered.
Singular Sound of Out
nationaldaycalendar.com
It’s November 30th, and I am
heartened that today, is
National Personal Space Day.
But, further weave into the wicked web
knits up duplicity; unravels, in fact,
other sobriquets for the same date like
National Mousse Day,
National Mason Jar Day, and
Stay Home Because You’re Well Day
Might as well be National
Ponzi Scheme Day or
World Polygamy Day, or
Hold the Oral Thermometer
Against the Hot Lamp So It Looks
Like You Have a Fever and
Won’t Have to Go to School Day,
(Which I did once, before I celebrated
National Fess Up to Your Mother
Before the Ambulance Comes Day),
Of course, none of this will be
Reported, but I won’t permit my
personal space to be stuffed
into a jelly vessel, or rubbed
upon someone’s flaky pate just to
spike up their limp doo.
It’s all faux festival, and at the end
of National Meth Awareness Day,
also pegged at Eleven Thirty,
It’s the butt end of a sham ham
invented to dope us into more
greeting cards and bobbles
Because believing is the one thing
we all seem prepared to do, given our
preferred Evening Nosebag feeds.
So, cheers to the International Day
For Tolerance which was
celebrated on November 16th
I missed it; and so, maybe, did you,
but I could hear the Nihilists
and Zealots screeching madly for the high
windows in the singular Sound of Out.
We adorn ourselves with bells, bobbles, fringe and tassels
Our 'chic' is our own to form our attire, our home is our castle
Pick and choose for every angle of space and form - a look
A style we can call our own to fit our mood, penchant or outlook
New trends excite our willingness to display our artistic passion
Our mood, sensibility and appetite for every mode of fashion
Concepts of beauty that come in all different shapes, sizes and colors
Become a living, walking work of art for us to share with many others
Like butterflies we transform from our rustic simple cocoons
To blossom like a flower in spring brightly displayed to swoon
Its an illusion of magic, a love of change for all to behold
This passion for fashion brings us a feeling that's solid gold
November 25, 2019
Fashion Poetry Contest
Sponsor Julia Ward