Best Bombard Poems
I always feel hungry
yet dare not complain
it may set a precedent,
believing I am the fodder
the factory keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The Radio talkback show tells us,
“No one wants insecurity anymore.”
Yet the conglomerates give no guarantee
no “Job for life”
Only a life! For a job.
Perhaps security is with the power
of the poppy or cocoa leaf?
So far, I’ve been lucky
I’ve found my comfort zone
this side of life.
So! Do not weep for me
for I breathe the fragrance of innocence,
my mind remains only
a fragment of intellect,
my musing will never make poem of the day
when my world one of such simplicity.
Yet I see mankind bemused,
multitudes from all walks of life
programmed as corn in the meadow
swaying to a acrimonious breeze,
before being judged within a
clockwork frame, with hearts
that beat in caustic chests.
Frail bodies embraced with wretched minds
tolerance etched upon stark faces,
their promised land dangled upon
the filament of dreams,
while calculated scenarios
bombard their unswerving ambience.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Welcome KMart shoppers blares through the air as a mosh pit of greedy Holiday buggers hurl themselves through the glass and aluminum doors—Obese bodies press (children jammed between white-bread). Trolls in strollers screech in pain and howls of Christ mask laughter. The shopper's feet bombard the glossy, line-oh-lea-ummm floors as the overwrought, over-privileged, truffle sniffers, poke through the hundred and fifty percent marked-up—mark-downs, for things they already own in triplicate.
canned music
jiggle bells the room:
torn wrapping paper
My heart-beat drums of love and charm.
O' hear the voice of love that sings a sweet song.
Listen to the songbird's *dulcet serenade and dawning alarm,
and reply, oh lovebird, with a lovesick *tongue.
Liberate thy spirit of love my dear *marm,
and respond! respond! yes respond with a passion so strong.
Release a seductive hymn to embrace my heart with its fiery melodic arm
so an overwhelming fervor follows along.
Oh! incinerate the shell of my heart 'til my soul be visibly nude and disarm',
thus revealing the *candescent embodiment of sensations which lives among.
Certainly, I want to be caress and loved by Love's delicious swarm.
So, Queen of hearts, bombard the core of my soul 'til it be in awe!-- experience I long.
*dulcet--(esp. of sound) sweet and soothing
*tongue--refers to speech
*marm--variation of madam
*candescent--glowing red-hot
(Poem for John Heck contest)
It has happened again,
your true feelings are once more exposed
Vulnerable
Out in the open,
where your heart can be attacked
Anxiety ridden,
palpitations increase
Got an overwhelming urge to flee,
and go hide
Hide your vulnerable heart
Put it safely under lock and key
Blow after blow,
hurt after hurt,
has made you wary of anyone having true
interest in you
Particularly that of a romantic nature
Do they just want to be friends,
keep it purely platonic?
Or do they want to rush on in
Bombard you with flowers and phone calls,
remember every personal detail, no matter how small
Are they for real,
are they on the up and up?
Are they being sincere,
do they truly care?
Or is this just another self-amused bluff
Someone trying to see if they can get you to open up
Get your heart exposed to the cold,
then numb the pain with a shot of sexual novocaine
Get you laughing, set your mind at ease
Make you drop your guard, so they can do as they please
No, stop the doubting,
you're a better judge of people now then you were back then
If your heart must be made vulnerable again,
you will always be free to choose
whether to open the door and let the prospect of love come in
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
A significant relationship ends,
Causing loss of a part of one's future;
Wasting a routine and a profound sense
Of attachment that needs a mental cure.
Mind in terrible shock and disbelief
Declines to accept the reality;
Intense sadness increases the deep grief,
Where heart no longer beats with joy and glee.
Frustration fiercely assaults the sad soul,
Bitterness and blame bombard the spirit;
Anger and resentment ruin the whole,
Crushing it to pieces without limit.
Attempts to negotiate start to bargain,
But this fantasy doesn't stop the wrath;
Reappearance of scenarios brings pain,
Erasing hopes to shift the aftermath.
In the period of emotional lows,
Coming to terms refuses to be killed;
When stream of everyday depression flows,
Growth begins to move forward to rebuild.
Poverty;
The state of lack
A matter of poor.
It the scarcity of death
The inability to forgo
the necessity of life.
Poverty is the blessing of the God
Poverty can make us reach our goal.
Poverty can make us think properly.
Poverty is fame
Poverty is health
Poverty is wealth.
Without poverty the nation will deprive
Poverty is the father of hunger
It gives birth to homeless.
Poverty is the starvation to death.
Poverty can make us realize what life is
With poverty success walk backward
With poverty the secret of success is revealed.
Poverty is a monster that
Destroy the family
Communities, societies and
Imbibe destitution in
The life’s of rich.
Poverty is a slain of slap
It is the compliance
Of evil and bad thought.
The sergeant of tissue,
Dissolving little into canal.
The cup runneth over
Like a bead of saloon
And camouflage of death.
Thou bombard the peace
Of live and leave.
You taught me many things...
you taught me patience.
you taught me how to fully trust another.
you taught me that it is not about me all the time.
you taught me how to focus on my flaws-
rather than concentrating on the idiosyncrasies of others.
From you I have learned so much...
I have learned how to listen first-
instead of intermittingly recepting the things that moved my selfish heart.
I have learned from you that everything must flow as a process;
I should not be so naive to think that all can and will be fixed overnight.
I have learned to stop dwindling on the past in order to embrace and adequately appreciate
the blessings of my future.
I have learned to use mistakes only as stepping stones-
this has given me the strength to repair my self-esteem and metamorph into a humble being.
I am grateful for your unchanging love and wisdom...
you have molded me to become this woman who is no longer weak and afraid.
in me, you have instilled the courage to start the next chapter in this book of my life.
you are the reason I no bombard my thoughts with doubt and fears of ever being alone.
To me you have been more than i could have ever deserved...
you are a loyal mentor and a forever forgiving friend.
More and most importantly, GOD you are (without a speck of doubt) the definition of true and
unconditional love.
You
are beautiful.
like the moon.
cracked and cratered.
You
life meteors.
bombard.
You
do not pull away.
from the earth.
enlightened and light.
-maria
11.8.15
*remembering typhoon haiyan victims and survivors
bayboats purse seine whey
journey yearlong gay
laddy inured dry up
haughty yachty yea
mildred mayhem dewlap
naughty jaunty jay
sons caught in car capers
haughty yachty yea
vicar baking in butterfat
orphan boy screwed in larder
bluejay frollic jane
and a haughty yachty yea
bombs in bay bombard
dickson singsick cockpit
french chicks s’envoient en l'air*
oh a haughty yachty yea
idols jailed in temples
choked in garlandy incense
priestly eyedance pose
yes a haughty yachty yea
masons’ mildewy masters
with compass stone and pilasters
plan solomon’s might on earth
yea sing haughty yachty yea
royal houses love in stables
lords and ladies love in regalia
loving ones love in limbo
cry haughty yachty yea
dote on damsels in december
hey yachty haughty yea
make them deliver in september
ho yickety yackety yea eh
* "s'envoient en l'air": French, literally, for "throwing legs up in the air"; in France - guess, if you can - this phrase means: ???
©T.Wignesan - Paris, May 4, 1997
[from the collection : longhand notes: a binding of poems. Paris: 1999]
We always called Cassandras
immature the way she ran
through town with her electric hair
and torn clothes, telling us
that we already know:
that regiment of clouds
that cloud bombard us soon
with snow, cloud burry us;
that art in an equivocal gift,
that every flower awaited
it's proper place
on out funeral wreaths.
We knew all of that
she waas our own child.
But once betrothed to grief.
What could we do but morn?
we let her speak and speak,
all words so angry
are metephors.
The Single Girls Valentines Day
( or ...We Love the 15th)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
February has now arrived,
hearts and flowers everywhere.
Valentine's Day will be here soon.
The day for loving couples to share.
But for singles ladies like this one
it's an annoying sight to see
those sappy ads and commercials
they bombard us with on T.V.
So Valentine's Day again this year
will be movie night for me and the cat.
Just nothing about love and romance.
I think I'll just boycott that.
The fifteenth is our holiday
when all the chocolate is marked half price.
On the fourteenth we may be lonely
but the fifteenth is pretty nice.
01/02/2017
/
Ice is the strangest substance
upon this earth then yet it
is seen as insignificant by
many.
It forms from water-droplets
within clouds, flowing rivers
and even in oceans where energy
is forever in motion.
It floats when it should sink;
density is transformed from heavy
to light even though the chemistry
remains unchanged.
It falls ever so gracefully in the
form of snow then yet wind transforms
it into a violent blizzard.
Every snowflake differs but its
crystallization is aided by
particles in the air, either natural
or man-made; it is said thunder
is created whenever they bombard
one another creating bursts of energy
transforming a cloud into a bubble of light.
Mountains become its home where it
fills crevices that adorn jagged peaks.
It twists and turns creating a deep
bowl-like hollow; a cirque is thus
created.
Seasons go by and snow continues to
fall surviving the short summer
thus the snow transforms to firn and
néve as pressure increases compacting
past layers of fallen snow.
Time passes slowly; the snow has now
become ice.
The mountain is no longer its home
for the cirque has been breached –
a glacier has formed.
The power of gravity exerts itself
onto the river of ice making it flow
downstream.
The steep mountain-sides and once
v-shaped valleys become victims of
the erosive power of the glacier bed;
picking up rocks and boulders of
unimaginable size transforming it
into sandpaper.
As time goes on the mountain scenery
changes ever so slowly as the glacier
retreats back into the womb of its
creation.
The valleys become u-shaped, rivers
and lakes dominate the scree covered
land where plant-life invades the
now bare soil; and layers of rock
exposed displaying the elements
of time.
The power of ice may be hidden but
its creations are all round us,
beautiful and enchanting.
Still waiting for the peace to establish,
The grudge for each other must finish;
67 years is not small period,
To see the 2 nations fighting weird;
Even the Germans made their wall fall,
And the Americans ended civil war;
Politics putting the brotherhood at stake,
What the delegates do with every handshake;
Survival at the cross-line is getting tougher,
No one will be entitled at last the winner;
Living life made by us is worse than hell,
The weapons will give us huge currency if we make it sell;
Ask the civilians what do they want,
Everytime they must be abusing you but you can't;
The precious part of the subcontinent divided by you,
Not to spread communal-ism but to rule;
Let us rub the line and join together,
And fly in the sky with our feathers;
We tag ourselves the 3 times winner at border,
Nothing to feel like proud , but to bother;
Wishing our countrymen for Nobel won't work at all,
Giving congratulations to counter one won't make us to be in pitfall;
The sound of clap do not come from one hand,
Trying from both sides may finish it between the lands,
Till what time we both will continue the fire of agony in us,
Let's finish it now ,Let's finish it together with huge pompous;
The dying men there do not have religion and caste,
Every house gets devastate with each bombard;
Cultivate the seed of friendship,
Outcome a good result of what we reap;
Beware of the dragon which tries to break us,
Leads to war making both hurt;
United we stand,divided we fall,
Fights will result both nation crawl;
We both can solve our issues,
We don't need 3rd body to have it's own review;
No cricket match will bring peace,
Love is the only way to have all these fights cease;
Celebrate each festivals like brothers,
Collect every inch of love whenever we gather;
The day will come when our bond will be known to everyone,
The bond of friendship,the bond of brotherhood whatever we have in our heart's lawn.
Please read Episode 1 of PURE FANTASY to follow throu
On a friendly mission we arrived
Willing and ready to extend,
Our hand to the people of earth
I came to this planet as a friend
From my home which is Planet Mars,
President and ruler of the Galaxy
Decorated with stars and bars,
And often referred to as His Majesty!
But, amongst Superheroes,
Known as Echo Man, my voice is strong
Reverberates throughout my domain,,
I’m known for upholding the good
And deleting the wrong!
I can also read your mind,
And allow mine to be read,
I am one of a kind!
Akin to me, no other across all planets
And stars, Including Planet Earth!
We come in peace,
I begin to descend, let the uncertainty
And animosity between us cease!
I immediately sense hostility,
A far cry from any call for unity
As I step with hesitation
Into an angry situation,
It is already too late, for I am on
Planet Earth’s threshold,
Of a new tomorrow!
Soldiers seize me from behind,
Whilst thousands of troops surround
And bombard
Our ship, many of my men die!
What an insane reaction,
My Martians take off and
Fly into the skies,
Planet Mars idea, once an abstraction
Is now ready to be put into action!
Naive earthlings, do you not know that
Superheroes from Venus and Mars,
Do not regard or fear bars,
You will soon feel the force
Of our strength,
As History takes its course!
My Kingdom knows
What has to be done,
Fire Ball, your time has come,
For us to rally, do you read my mind?
Yes, she replies, for I am one of your kind!