Best Chalks Poems
Favorite Artist,
A romantic,
A dreamer.
Choice for a favorite artist,
that would be,
Me.
~
I grew up in a family of seven children.
As the oldest I found myself entranced and driven.
Then, other times in a pensive mood
to be alone, in a quiet place, bliss of solitude.
I would sneak away and hide in different places.
No, sound or faces; leave no traces
just my chalks, pencils, and drawing pads
drawing traces of faces among them mom and dads.
As I grew older, I used my talent
to earn a living, every day was a brand-new challenge
discovering new things about me.
Excited and amazed of my talents, I started teaching
reaching for those that had talent, but lacking
self-esteem and making their dreams come true.
Then again, another phase of my life, I pursued
finding myself as a poet, a healing of my soul,
a journey to the depths,
food for substance that made me whole.
~
Being an artist has let me see and feel into my human self
with more meaning and understanding to life.
11/11/2019
Categories:
chalks, art, career,
Form:
Free verse
I saw Mary in Peru
as pastel chalks skimmed over
a gray concrete sidewalk, felting the surface,
baby blues and pinks vibrated with naiveté.
The artist knelt
each stroke given in homage
to the Mother of all.
I see Mary.
The Quechua see
Pachamama, earth-time mother,
the oval shape of her beatific head
tilts as if she’s watching—
when as the dragoness she rises,
she shakes
the ground.
A son of Lima dressed the dreary gray day
with earth stone. Chalk forms Her breasts.
He prays. We are all children
at the feet of the Mother;
the celestial sun and moon were
birthed
from her loins.
I saw Mary as he drew with diligence.
I saw my mother and myself,
let all who birth be
praised.
First Published in About Place Journal Vol III Issue II
Categories:
chalks, beauty, birth, earth, faith,
Form:
Free verse
In snooker there is but one rule
To play your best at the crucible
Professionals play under extreme pressure
For the crowds joy and immense pleasure
Fifteen reds set up on the table
Potting away at different angles
Six different colours to add to the score
A 147 break and the crowd just roars
The talent so hot, competition is fierce
These geniuses play without any fears
The crowds are gathering to take their seats
To watch the rocket increase his lead
Ronnie stoops down to take his shot
Suddenly a noise in the crowd, oh' he’s shocked
Michaela raises her voice, calm down please
To late the distraction unsettles his ease
In an effort to continue he chalks his cue
Playing for green, his minds on blue
He strikes the white and hits the green
But it rattles in pocket, he's caused a scene
He knows he’s missed even before the shot
His concentration gone, another frame lost
Due to start a another frame now
Selby to break, the crowd crying out
Commentary throughout has been superb
The skill of these players we've observed
An absolute brilliant entertaining game
especially that last twist in the final frame
(Oh' Wait a minute, I think we've been snookered!)
Copyright © 12th February 2014
K.C.Leake
All Rights Reserved
Categories:
chalks, sports,
Form:
Rhyme
ode to be the bigger person
to see the stupidity in another’s ways &
to decide on the route of complete indifference
before giving them the satisfaction
of getting into a little spat which might
drain precious seconds, hours, days, weeks, months &
unfortunately for some,
years,
from one’s life.
ode to the bigger person who looks in the eyes of
the mundane &
sees that the kick that will be granted them
from simply staying in the ring without any cause but to
fight for the sake,
to dig & dig & dig
with no real motive beyond self-gratification &
no evidence of any reason for the skirmish to begin with,
will simply thrill them to no end &
to halt it all with one clean swoop,
ignoring the pleas for conflict &
ignoring the need for attention.
ode to the bigger person
who when walking away from an idiot
who will not stop needling,
simply chalks it up to experience &
takes pride in their own actions,
for the bigger person knows that
their own personal high ground
is one that cannot be shaken &
with each moronic conflict averted
comes a strength great enough
to keep on through the infinite struggle.
Categories:
chalks, life, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
Dedicated to a Nun that was raped by a Hindu gang in Orrisa in India.
Bondage dawdles but dauntless rambler.
Glimmers as goblin a goblet gambler.
A heartburn glory chalks a chandelier.
A granite lineage outdistanced gondolier.
Responsive restitution a splitter sponger,
Guttural estuary grumbles bounded cavalier.
A bony strangled receptacle receiver,
Keynote bolted storm violate believer.
Categories:
chalks, caregiving
Form:
Imagism
In these a-dying days,
people are given mo’ grief news
Hope cost less than
a jug bottle of dirt cheap booze
While the crying game
is being played
over and over, time again hence
Death has a new name:
Covid-19
is the ICU cradle tomb pestilence
Folks everywhere are digging in,
with covered faces grim
As graveyards keep overflowing,
prospects be looking dim
Red Masque, Red Masque
19 hues of undertaker gurney blue
This ghastly number
be vapor fear burying lots not few
Red Masque, Red Masque
Tales of the Crypt be sew cerulean
Devil wearing a blue dress,
says the search party has just began
Flood of 911 busy signals,
gov’ment ain’t answering the phone
Twilight curfew dye vigils,
as loved ones face suffering all alone
Let the crying game
be sympathy fore played
Veil questioning is the “Why” snuff passion
Climax is the same —
Covid yourself,
bureaucrats do truly feel in a caring fashion
Folks everywhere are digging in,
with covered faces grim
As graveyards keep overflowing,
prospects be reaper dim
Red Masque, Red Masque
19 hues of constant code blue
White House doctor office is closed,
nobody is gonna attend to you
Red Masque, Red Masque
Oval lips don’t speak indigo true
White House bunker gala,
a welcoming party only for a few
A stricken nation in tear mourning,
awakens daily to no relief
Operation Neglect gives no warning,
alarm bell is cricket brief
While the crying game
is being played
over and over and over again
Passing the err blame —
Covid-19
chalks up another morgue win
As mo’ and mo’ blackbirds
keep a-perching ‘pon cemetery tombstones
Nary an Ivory rescue heard,
only coroner chirps of lies being prolonged
Red Masque, Red Masque: A cloaked cry
19 hues of pallbearer coffin blue
Last rite Lenin robes are all denim dyed,
eulogy threads was party issued
Red Masque, Red Masque
19 cryptic cues of cynical dark azure shade
White House pandemic task
was to have a masquerade party virus paid
11-20-20
Categories:
chalks, death, imagery, pain, sorrow,
Form:
Ode
The Circus gongs excite the Throngs in nighttime Never Land –
They swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
While Acrobats step pitapat above the shifting sands
And Lady Fat sits down to chat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the Band,
Ask crimson Clowns with frozen frowns, to hold a mutant hand,
While Tamers’ whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
Lure Cats entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents boast black-tusk contraband
To regiments of Sycophants who overflow the stands,
But No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night’s demise, the dither dies, the lonesome Crowd disbands,
Down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their tattered rags in strands,
And Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
To play a part in Three-Ring Art, I thought I’d try my hand –
I mastered skills, I felt the thrills, I breathed and seethed firsthand –
But destiny denied to me to taste a lifetime spanned
With tightrope walks and trapeze chalks ... excepting second-hand...
For alcohol provoked a fall, as if a reprimand,
And now, a heap, I sometimes keep the ticket office manned...
Categories:
chalks, people, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
I will not sit upon my chair
nor go in to my room
and brush it with a broom
paints put away I must
crayon sticks, chalks, dust,
fat cats and books back.
Onions fall into a sack
crying child, six drops of rain,
fall upon his wooden train.
Dolly’s sock fits so snug
tabby crawls on mummy’s rug.
Is a dog, a him or a miss?
Toys upstairs, got two fish,
Oh what? A to-do
What can you say without an
E?
Categories:
chalks, funny, giggle,
Form:
Blank verse
"Just take this chalk," (so went his talk,
to servants sent before):
"And do not balk. When you uncork
good liquor, mark the door."
This way, the churchman planned to pass,
when pausing for a rest,
fun nights in vino veritas,
partaking of the best.
"So, sup the wine, and if it's fine,
write on the lintel (lest
I miss the sign and fail to dine
there) 'Vinum Bonum Est!'"
Off went the servant at a trot.
Would we were in his shoes!
To earn our pay, we play the sot,
by "testing" all the booze!
From bar to bar, he wanders far,
obeying that behest:
but "Vinum Bonum" starts to jar:
He shortens it to "Est"!
He sips this wine, he guzzles that,
and if he is impressed,
he makes a holy concordat,
and marks the doorway, "Est!"
Down through the Alps the servant wends,
to tread Italian soil:
so many blends, to greet as friends!
Unto his task, stays loyal.
Both white and red, their bottles bled,
are flowing like the Arno:
by destiny, the servant's led
to Montepulciano!
Volcanic slopes (some are the Pope's!)
make wine that's heaven-blessed:
and, titillated as he topes,
he chalks up, "Est! Est! Est!"
Some days elapse -- a week, perhaps.
Beneath the tavern's eaves,
round Bishop wraps the sweetest of traps --
he arrives, but never leaves!
The wine is fine -- almost divine --
Soft, like an angel's breath;
To toe the line, he's disinclined --
and drinks himself to death!
And though this tale's beyond the pale,
a moral you may wrest --
each holy grail's adorned with nails --
go slow with Est! Est! Est!
Categories:
chalks, humorous,
Form:
Quatrain
Someone playing a concrete violin
with a jackhammer
on a midnight sidewalk,
street lights gawk,
flickering fascination,
tuning keys locked,
rosin swipes declined
chalks marks hold hop scotch trinkets
tossed into the numbered squares,
pawned now for a glass of chardonnay
and a plate of cheese
Paneled walls ache
of yesterday’s smoke rings,
scentless air fresheners,
hanging Christmas trees
presumed innocent,
only here for the music
and rear view mirrors
cherry lipstick traces on a folded napkin
crimson half circles
prints on either side
someone will be kissed tonight
I’ll take it with me
I love the flavor
Categories:
chalks, dream, i miss you,
Form:
Free verse
He changes diguises and identities
To throw surprises at his enemies
He is visibly invisible
In that his inconspicuousness is critical
forced to keep eye contact minimal
Enter the stone cold criminal
With seasoned vets mentals
The path he walks you limp to
The ones he stalks would pimp you
The rats he chalks on the avenue
Many battlewounds
Their masked behind his three piece suit with burberry shoes
With a paper in tow like he's hip to the news
If only they knew he got them ill street blues
Always contemplatin pullin his trey eight soon
When the air is thick gun smoke clouds the moon
This cat is hellbent
On having his remains artistically displayed on the pavement
Or lookin forward to his future indictment
When checkin the hindsight he couldnt tell you where his life went
Exchanged freedom for striped raiment commisary's his excitement
Categories:
chalks, black african american, death,
Form:
Free verse
customer service is not an alluring activity
a dissatisfied customer is like Chucky
their disguise is sweet
until they speak, it's evil energy
returning or exchanging without a receipt
chalks-up a storm of dead-eye mis-fortune
these people don't come from heaven
retail is like nature in hell
demonic bears attack because the policy is unfair
satanic lions lay bare
poachers have delusions of grandeur
there's no safe trail in the jungle
inroad is trouble
in the real world
an angry customer break glass
shattering rules piercing flesh
it becomes a mess
so I will confess
this.....
my job is a simple paragraph
but difficult to graph
I laugh behind your back
knowing you'll be back
to shop at the same store
you'll walk in through the door
wanting to buy and return more
Categories:
chalks, slam,
Form:
Free verse
(alternately titled: tongue in cheek humor
cuz the following hyperbole
from this pencil necked baby boomer
without intent to badmouth,
nor start unfounded rumor,
who chalks, i.e. attributes gobbledygook
to funny bone tumor).
Impossible mission maneuvering around
soiled clothes pile
floor to ceiling humongous mound
terse reply hopefully adequately sound
to convincingly doth explain
absent poet buried alive underground,
perhaps never heard and/or found
till 1-800 GOT JUNK uncovered
emaciated (lovely bones)
formerly Matthew Scott Harris
his remnants discovered
visa vis mastercard bloodhound.
No need to fret
(while guitar gently weeps),
just talk to who barkeeps
works long late hours, he oversleeps
thus best track him down,
without uttering peeps
please find out if he knows
anybody reliably housekeeps
maybe lady luck will
thru think magical realism
deliver sophisticated robot
harkening within outer limits
from twilight zone
hookin get the job done
in one fell swoop sweeps.
Meanwhile yours truly
tries to remain upbeat
despite being royally tricked
upon pledging his troth
haint cool wedded bliss
heavily perspiring courtesy ultraheat
smellbound by malodorous laundry
necessitating heavy amount
of clorox to pretreat
which I rather drink,
(and thank president Trump)
for sakes Pete!
Though the misses upholds
voluntarily cooking as wifely role indeed
worth commendable attention,
I do concede
and doth adequately buzzfeed
her hubby lest he
wither away to lovely bones
(well past due date
late to avoid
above mentioned outcome,
his (mine) corporeal
being well nigh freed,
thus complaint regarding
spindleshanks solved no knead
to strain skinny ankle muscles
and maintain self promise
holy matrimony, cuz
aye know weed
never remain married forever
as initially agreed.
Fickle finger of fate
hath spoken thru smelly
potential Superfund site
perhaps... not amazing how heaping pile
of unwashed laundry can create
ecological hazard, that warrants B44
one bedroom apartment condemned
management understandably irate
to withhold security deposit
nearly four years at Highland Manor
now ready for model
domestic counterpart to debate
with her better angels where to relocate.
Categories:
chalks, 12th grade, adventure, crazy,
Form:
Free verse
Chalk Life
White chalk against the black board of life etches out
A soul that has no molecules to do so viably
Like a virus that has no real life of its own
Must seek out something else to define solidity in being
A hand to grasp what it is or it is not
Chalk can not talk
Is that discriminating?
Some say it is not as interesting as a man
A hand must move it along the edges of the mind
Be kind to your chalk when you are talking
Philosophy is not chalks favorite subject
Black chalk on black boards is even harder
To read into the state of being human
Something we can say definitively
Chalk is not
Categories:
chalks, absence, appreciation, image, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
White chalks.. on the glossy blackboard.
Black and White. .all matte and bored.
Technicolour scribbles. ..the world explored.
Vivacious markers...splashes the white board.
The aura of colors..the magical power.
Light mesmerising...the dull in cower.
Crayons and lipsticks..palettes of brush.
Vintage memories..in bookshelves flush.
Color of sun..darkens in shade.
Color of leaves..wither and fade.
Color of spring...never overstayed.
Color of life. .greys. .betrayed.
Reflections shimmer... the glass of solitude.
A kaleidoscope heart... colors in multitude.
Chameleon thoughts...in silence argues.
A 'Colorblind Dreamscape'...
the mind imbues.
8th September 2018.
Colored Memories Poetry Contest
sponsored by Craig Cornish
Categories:
chalks, age, betrayal, color, dream,
Form:
Rhyme