Best Bowtie Poems
waiting
with diaper on
for this woman to get up
off the kitchen floor and
stop bleeding while a man
hovers over her with grimace
and clinched fist
waiting
for our first-grade teacher
to stop crying
over the P.A. announcement
that the president
has just been assassinated
in Dallas
waiting
on the spirit of Christmas
to return days after the news
that mother's favorite song "You Send Me"
had just been shot and killed
a few blocks from our home
waiting
in the backseat of a Packard
for the policeman to stop screaming
at my father as urban soldiers
toss fire from their hands
in our neighborhood just outside of Watts
waiting
at LAX for Wilt the Stilt
to come back and finish
signing autographs after
some idiot just called him a freak
waiting
for the bowtie and scowl
to let go of my arm so I
can shake the hand of
the Greatest of All Time
as he starts his comeback
with an exhibition bout
in East Los Angeles
waiting
with eighteen-year-old trembling knees
for that sheriff deputy
to remove his pump action shotgun
from my temple
waiting
in the delivery room
for the wrong woman
to have my child
waiting
at a motel
for the right woman
to find the time
to slip away
waiting
on the side of
the ninety-one freeway
for a motorcade to pass
shortly after the funeral
of a former president
shamed by the Watergate scandal
waiting
and looking
while holding onto
the entry gate at 875 S. Bundy Dr.
for some sign of what really
happened that night
waiting
along with F.E.M.A. and the Red Cross
for the distraught woman
to come with us to safety
days after the Northridge earthquake
leveled her million-dollar home
waiting
at the hospital
for my first grandchild
to be born while her father
who's been convicted of battery
is nowhere to be found
waiting, waiting
seems like I'm always
waiting
Categories:
bowtie, poetry,
Form:
Narrative
Black Powder
---------------------------------------
He waits offstage, his posture tense,
his gaze locked on the audience -
his first in years.
He blots the sweat that wets his face,
then walks onstage and gets in place,
amidst their cheers.
In bowtie, vest and dinner tails,
he's dressed down to his fingernails.
His face is flushed.
His eyes close tight, his breathing slows,
beyond his sight, the tension grows
The house is hushed...
If he can pull from knurled old trunks,
the Magic that their world debunks,
he can pretend
(at least until the curtain rolls)
it's still his show, and he controls
it in the end.
Illusion casts no lasting spell.
No, in conclusion, he's not well,
so... shifting gears,
he lifts his hat to loud applause,
black powder sifting out like gauze...
and disappears... *
---------------------------------------
Categories:
bowtie, dark, death, good night,
Form:
Tail-rhyme
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
My doctor has given me a thumbs up
I'm good to go for another year
Let's see, how should I celebrate?
Perhaps I'll try going a day without my walker
Just kidding! I don't use a walker
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
Maybe I'll try dressing myself today
Last time I tried that, I wore checks with stripes
A major “faut pas” in the fashion world
I was laughed out of the local coffee shop
Perhaps coz I was wearing shorts, a bowtie
And NOTHING else!!!
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
My adult diapers are starting to give me a rash
Methinks it's those damn No-Name brands
People kept asking, “Why are you walking that way?”
Told them it's an old war injury!
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
Gonna close now. Wife Cathie made me some porridge
Told me it's good for my toidy habits
She usually knows what's best for me so I listen
The doc just gave me a thumbs up
So I'll keep doing what Cathie says!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Categories:
bowtie, humorous,
Form:
Narrative
Trip We Will Never Forget
I always had wondered just how wacky
Was my wife who is a luscious lovely lady
Who around world wanted to go on a cruise
And taking me along with her to amuse.
Sailed and smiled in and out of each port
An envoy of entertainers served as escort
And wherever we had gone or tried to go
Was through difficult traffic and very slow.
Meals served were meant for king and queen
Together we sure made such a terrific scene
Me in my tuxedo with bright colored bowtie
You in a dress that always caught my eye.
You certainly looked like an angel in disguise
Who from heaven had dropped out of the skies
While travelling I spoke with voice so eloquent
Full of power and authority wherever we went.
What had proved to be most interesting to me
While we traveled together had started to see
As great trip continued on and time went by
You were not ever with I but some other guy.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
I had a friend who was stationed in Thailand
and ended up with agent orange when his
was 70 over 50 years later. We were in the
Air Force together and both ended up with
degrees using the GI Bill. Wow.
Categories:
bowtie, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Couplet
Androgynous Angel in white
Wings of satin about to take flight
like some Space Oddity
searching for a bit of life.
I gaze in fascination at this being
which entered my house as a vinyl cover.
You flirt around my consciousness
morphing again and again;
speaking to me from your place on the wall.
Rebel Rebel is your rally call.
Let's dance in red shoes and blue jeans
until we’re dancing in the streets,
unified by the music.
But you didn't stop there.
You surprised us with
a kiss of modern love
and absolute color blindness--
sloughing the image once again
from rainbows to black suits and fashion models.
You made non-conformity the norm
And did it in style.
If only you could have stayed
a little while longer...
You paved the way for new sounds;
who will be a trailblazer now?
As your flitting around in celestial skies
an androgynous angel taking that
heavenly chorus to new heights.
(Written and performed for World Open Poetry Mic on January 15, 2016 David Bowtie tribute segment.)
Categories:
bowtie, dedication, farewell, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
pink flower, pink flower.
one for me, one for he.
we dare not look into our togetherness eyes,
a bit shy.
my pink perkiness in a heart shape -
my billowing knees.
pink flower, pink flower.
one for me, one for he.
the yellow power of his hair.
my brunette cascade over naked shoulders.
will he dare to turn my way?
he loves me? he loves me not?
pink flower, pink flower.
one for me, one for he.
his blackened bowtie and electric blue shirt.
a johnny cash suit, an orange and tan boot.
does he know i'm here?
so afraid to look.
pink flower, pink flower.
one for me, one for he.
a sparkling silver and magenta torso.
my back gently leans, barely touching.
he looks that way, i look the other.
will our eyes meet?
pink flower, pink flower.
one for me, one for he.
the artist brush tickles
but we hold our stance.
sparks petrified on marine wood -
the circumference of our first dalliance.
3/11/2019
Categories:
bowtie, boy, feelings, flower, girl,
Form:
Verse
Ryan and Amy are getting married next month…as couples often do…
As the father of the groom in honor of their tying the knot…I thought I’d tie one too.
When I found the perfect bow tie…I knew I had to buy it…
and by my calculations I had two months in which to learn to tie it.
The bow tie, however, came with no directions…in the box just one untied tie and nothing more…but I was undeterred…after all…that’s what You Tube videos are for.
So I Googled the easiest way to tie a bow tie and a smiling man came into view…
He said this is easy…not to worry…do exactly what I do.
And I tried…I really tried to do exactly what he did…I tried with all my might…
but I realized after 70 years upon this Earth I didn’t know my left hand from my right.
And he was much too hard to follow…his hands moved too quickly to and fro…
when he was finished tying…I hadn’t even started a bow.
My confidence was beginning to wane…but I still had my tenacity…
I have put together IKEA furniture…one little bow tie would not get the better of me.
So I turned to another You Tube video…then a a third, a fourth, a fifth…
after which I was certain the easiest way to tie a bow tie was nothing but a myth.
I even printed out written directions where after each step I could stop and check…
but the finished bowtie in the picture never matched the one around my neck.
After one month of painstaking practice…I finally had it down…
When I showed Deborah she asked, “Did you mean to make it quite big…you look more like a clown.”
She was right but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t make that bow tie small…
and looking like a clown at Ryan and Amy’s wedding…well that won’t do at all.
So when they tie the knot next month…
my hand tied bow tie is a fantasy I now have shed…
I wonder if Ryan and Amy would be happy….
with something from IKEA instead.
Categories:
bowtie, humor, wedding,
Form:
Rhyme
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
My doctor has given me a thumbs up
I'm good to go for another year
Let's see, how should I celebrate?
Perhaps I'll try going a day without my walker
Just kidding! I don't use a walker
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
Maybe I'll try dressing myself today
Last time I tried that, I wore checks with stripes
A major “faut pas” in the fashion world
I was laughed out of the local coffee shop
Perhaps coz I was wearing shorts, a bowtie
And NOTHING else!!!
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
My adult diapers are starting to give me a rash
Methinks it's those damn No-Name brands
People kept asking, “Why are you walking that way?”
Told them it's an old war injury!
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
Gonna close now. Wife Cathie made me some porridge
Told me it's good for my toidy habits
She usually knows what's best for me so I listen
The doc just gave me a thumbs up
So I'll keep doing what Cathie says!
Categories:
bowtie, fun,
Form:
What's the point wake up in the shadowless world
A sunless sky
I ask you now why should I try
why should i buy into all of the things people find so worthwhile
why do i want to be so different?
i can hear the music
through my window i could hear the world
trap music plays
im more accustomed to the andre 3000 sounds so i mostly stray away
i tighten my bowtie and welcome the night
take a shot of the whisky and begin to write
of the wrongs that i've done and my dreams of the light
its only then that my sun will rise
i smile at the light
it's nothing more than a welcoming call
i'm so close to my goal
but im not there at all
my body becomes possesed with unimaginable drive
to think two months ago i didn't want to be alive
i made plans of my death
never though of suicide
just a victim of the world
who would not let me survive
but that was the stress and anxiety im depressed because i though that i was good
and my friends said i was less
so i'm locked in my room to protect everyone
because i long for one person
who was never gonna come
why should i try and buy my way through life?
most likely because i know that i could do right
because i could possibly fill you with light
because of the whisky or because i feel right
regardless of the answer i'm so proud of my fight
Categories:
bowtie, growth,
Form:
Free verse
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
My doctor has given me a thumbs up
I'm good to go for another year
Let's see, how should I celebrate?
Perhaps I'll try going a day without my walker
Just kidding! I don't use a walker
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
Maybe I'll try dressing myself today
Last time I tried that, I wore checks with stripes
A major “faux pas” in the fashion world
I was laughed out of the local coffee shop
Perhaps coz I was wearing shorts, a bowtie
And NOTHING else!!!
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
My adult diapers are starting to give me a rash
Methinks it's those damn No-Name brands
People kept asking, “Why are you walking that way?”
Told them it's an old war injury!
Hoo-ya, hoo-ya, ziss boom bah!
Gonna close now, wife Cathie made me some porridge
Told me it's good for my toidy habits
She usually knows what's best for me so I listen
The doc just gave me a thumbs up
So I'll keep doing what Cathie says!
Categories:
bowtie, happiness,
Form:
Rhyme
Does he notice? I scribble,
gripping my writer’s notebook
with the steady grip that I can only
manage when on vacation.
I write about the way he stands,
face to the incoming sea breeze,
shoes to the salt water,
not stepping back or caring.
Nor should I care: I write about
the fact that I do not care.
I write about the plaid flannel shirt,
the bowtie shaped like a fish,
the shoes so soaked now they might as well
be fish too.
I am writing out of scientific interest;
I am the objective observer,
the being who puts no feelings to things,
no personal engagements.
Adding to my observations, I notice
gleaming rings, high hair, a look
of contentment, or perhaps concentration.
I am concentrating as well;
science requires it–
until that glassy screen separating the observer
from the observed is
broken
by a left turn of the high-haired head
whose eyes meet my own.
Categories:
bowtie, love, sea, water, write,
Form:
Free verse
Have you ever gone out to the garage, slid behind the wheel of that Bowtie, twisted the key and lit off that big Rat …
Rolled out to the middle of the culdesac, two clicks down into low, left foot over the brake while you slowly depress with the right ...
And just as the squeal of the tires begins to stir the neighbors, you hammer the accelerator until it starts to dimple the sheet metal in the floor beneath ...
You see Bill come running out his front door just as you lose sight of his house in the rearview thru the billowing clouds of white smoke now forming ...
Mothers rush to scoop up their children and pull them to safety as you slowly release your left foot and begin to have to steer now to keep her straight ...
Wheel to the left, then to the right, as you start to pick up forward momentum, while watching the tach bounce around the redline and then slowly start to fade downward ...
The smoke entering the car's interior starts to burn your eyes as you squint and struggle to keep your focus on the now hazy landscape ...
Right hand ratchets up once into second as the rear tires continue to scream in protest and things start to speed by with just a little more urgency than moments before ...
Finally she starts to hook and the G's start to press against your chest as you hesitate, take in a small breathe, and then click up one more gear ...
The steering wheel feels light in your hands as you tighten your grip and, even though the smoke has vacated the interior, you still struggle to see clearly due to your pupils being flattened by the blinding rate of acceleration ...
Finally, unwillingly, you lift, as better judgement overcomes raw desire ...
Three blocks later the tires have cooled and the smoke has dissipated, but your heart rate is still 30 beats faster than normal ...
And as you sit at the red light, you take a deep breath to try to regain some composure and glance over to the little old lady in the Caprice next to you ...
And you say to yourself ...
“You think she wants to run?"
Categories:
bowtie, car,
Form:
Free verse
What's the point wake up in the shadowless world
A sunless sky
I ask you now why should I try
why should i buy into all of the things people find so worthwhile
why do i want to be so different?
i can hear the music
through my window i could hear the world
trap music plays
im more accustomed to the andre 3000 sounds so i mostly stray away
i tighten my bowtie and welcome the night
take a shot of the whisky and begin to write
of the wrongs that i've done and my dreams of the light
its only then that my sun will rise
i smile at the light
it's nothing more than a welcoming call
i'm so close to my goal
but im not there at all
my body becomes possesed with unimaginable drive
to think two months ago i didn't want to be alive
i made plans of my death
never though of suicide
just a victim of the world
who would not let me survive
but that was the stress and anxiety im depressed because i though that i was good
and my friends said i was less
so i'm locked in my room to protect everyone
because i long for one person
who was never gonna come
why should i try and buy my way through life?
most likely because i know that i could do right
because i could possibly fill you with light
because of the whisky or because i feel right
regardless of the answer i'm so proud of my fight
Categories:
bowtie, deep, desire, forgiveness, future,
Form:
Free verse
There once was a boy named Brad
Loved to wear a bowtie made of plaid
He looked like a nerd the way he was clad
But he barely knew how to add
Get some sun kept repeating his dad
Couch potato is a real bad fad
There are things to do a whole myriad
Soon when school’s out you’ll be a grad
Time to plan your life, my lad
Gear up to be happy not sad
Sharpen your skills to be had
The last thing you want is a life that’s bad
Motivated, in the paper Brad found an ad
For participants in the Olympiad
He lined up and was glad
'Cause he won a trip to Trinidad
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on March 3, 2018
Categories:
bowtie, adventure, encouraging, father son,
Form:
Monorhyme
So what country did you make?
Is it a penthouse, or a rented cubbyhole
in the same sky high city where the difference
is the size of your hold-out that can also peer out.
When the TV is silent and sullen
do you wonder
what other country you belong to?
Do you risk getting shot
for just looking out of a window,
or do you lollygag over fine wines
and does your bowtie spin
when you grin?
Do the people guard you
or impinge upon your sovereignty
with their greasy knives and forks?
Did you register as a foreigner
with the borderless guard dogs?
Did your country come with
a trash compactor and a rattrap?
I also come from a land as isolated as yours.
I travel incognito
as a stranger known to be unwanted
until kidnapped.
Did you choke twice
over an olive in your dirty martini?
Did you vow to stay far away
from the drug-dazed
and only send out or call in
for your own addictions?
Does your country salute you
for having regular bowel movements,
for not clogging up the toilet bowl?
I, like you, wrote my own constitution
it is written on an old postcard
that I sent to myself.
Are you a founder or a spy
snooping from an eye in the sky?
I may visit your county;
feel free to borrow my nose hair trimer,
my first born.
We, the Emperors of just enough space
should ratify unworkable treaties,
we may need to test
the limits of a mutual hostility.
When you turn the TV back on
do you, like me, wonder what country
this is that hates us from afar?
Blow smoke, smoke blow, suck when necessary,
bruit a patriotic vapor
into a rattling air conditioner,
never surrender.
Categories:
bowtie, poetry,
Form:
Free verse