Best Chaperone Poems
Glow of autumn sun
Now her scarlet chaperone
The leaves are jealous
===============
In this wood, great trees have grown
Deep in seats of sand and stone,
steeped in creeks of Pan's cologne,
each his sweeping brother's clone
From the score of seeds I've sown
in this wood, great trees have grown
And of glories father's own,
none's seen more than those I've known
Alto dins of summer flown,
fall begins her tenor moan
In this wood, great trees have grown
tall with winter's baritone
Life bestows no chaperone,
each must toe his line alone
At it's close, let mine have shown,
in this wood, great trees have grown
===============
Can we ever be surrounded by too many angels
I know when they’re around me
They always seem to ground me
All those who knew and loved me
Who now have since departed
And left me brokenhearted
I feel them all above me
Never oh never
Could I have too many angels
Never, oh never
Could there be too many angels
Could we ever feel the presence of too many angels
I know when they are with me
And when they contradict me
They guide my every footfall
To shelter me from harm
My chaperone, my guard
To help me through it all
Never oh never
Could I have too many angels
Never, oh never
Could there be too many angels
All those who knew and loved me
Who now have since departed
And left me brokenhearted
I feel them all above me
I know they’ll ALWAYS love me!
Merry Christmas to everyone
and to all of the PoetrySoup Angels!
(To The Memories of Jon Benet Ramsey, Sherrice Iverson and Ryan Harris)
Sometimes I reach down to hold your tiny hand
And I come up feeling powerless and helpless and
Unable to understand, why I will never see you
Playing in a schoolyard, backyard or
Playground because someone decided to take
What the world had found:
Three beautiful little girls,
With ponytails and bright faces
Whose pictures and stories have
Turned up in so many places
To tell stories of torture and abuse
To show the world that you refuse
To die down and disappear
Because if you do I fear
That no little girl will be able to play alone
Without the benefit of a bodyguard or chaperone
Increasingly, day after, day, I wake up
In the morning and I hear in the news that
Another little life has been taken by a crazed
maniac
I then immediately think of my precious
7-year-old and quickly react:
I say dear God, sometimes
I reach down to hold her tiny
Hand, and I still come up feeling
Powerless and helpless and unable to
Understand why I must never let go of
Of her hand... But God, I still thank
Heaven for little girls.
The sun is merely a chaperone to the darkness
salty sea mist
seized by winds...
dance ensues
craggy boulders...
chaperone
timeless watch
~*~
5/18/13
The cities streets once felt like home
With shadows now I find I roam,
A tree that shared its welcome shade,
Now stands apart from leafy glade,
And memories of storms that tore
The others down
What can my trembling heart restore
Uneasy rests my manhood's crown.
I do not know what's coming next,
You do not phone and rarely text,
But still I carry fantasy
Of me with you and you with me!
A broad road or a path unknown
We pay the rent
No parent’s voice or chaperone
Our destination's different
We do not need to ride the tide
Or keep our feelings deep inside
Decision ours, all is ahead,
Our intellect is our life's bread
Together is where we belong
Let’s fight the fight,
Commit to what we want lifelong
To loneliness say fond goodnight
Brian Johnston
May 4, 2015
Poet's Notes:
This poem is me trying to imagine what life is like for a young gay man who is in love with his best friend but not able to say anything for fear that his friend would freak out and reject him completely. He is afraid his friend is homophobic so the young man tries to hint at what he really wants without actually saying what is in his heart!
The Jazz and Pizzazz would not be what it is
If not for the Moms of the musical kids
Sure it’s the Dads who build every set
But it’s the Moms of these shows that we mustn’t forget
They sew on the sequins and alter the hems
And buy the girls ear rings when the song calls for gems
They make all the calls and drive kids around
These show choir Moms just never slow down
They handle the money on fund raising schemes
They go on the trips and chaperone teens
They might stay up all night on a chair in the hall
Just to be sure no one acts a goofball
They’ve been known to bake the cookies and cake
Take tickets you know at every show
They know all the tricks with pins and duct tape
To keep costumes together or girls into shape
You’ll find them all back stage working in the wing
You know these show choir Mothers can do just anything
Their shoulders get cried on when songs don’t go right
They’re high-fives and hugs come every closing night
They don’t get recognition for all the things they do
Unless you count the love and smiles they often get from you
So on this anniversary on that final curtain call
Be sure to thank the Show Choir Moms who always gave their all
I just wanted you to know....
I will always stand by your side
I will give back and be your guide
I will fight for you in the hard times
even if all I have are a few dimes
I will never lose my faith in you
my love for you is always true
all I have its you....
I’m proud of you....
you never gave up hope when the times were hard
you kept going forward through it all, yard by yard
you have never let others change who you are
you have always shown me the way of love
you move through the unknown with strength
no matter how far the length
I would have never been here today....
without your love
without your ultimate sacrifice
without the support I needed
I never would have succeeded
without your unbounded love
I could never stay above
I will always be there
on those days you are hurt and sad
and you feel everything is going bad
I will hold you in my arms and say
I’m glad to be with you here today
when you feel you are alone
I will be your chaperone
I love you so much!
I love your smile and the way you make me smile my love
never forget, the support and love I have for you,
so don’t let anyone else’s evil decisions or careless actions
change who you are today.
you are better than all of them and stronger in every way.
all I have its you my Love…
My Cousin Chaos
What cousin incest I am my own chaos
too much unpredictable prediction not to be cosmic
comical maybe the anarchy the drive for comprehension
and so much honest serious hilarious enjoyment
I am related to myself brother in arms mind and legs
on the journey to what where and because of
which fallacious fragmentation reconstructed
polar posited complementing contradictions
She or he who searches seeks the clown jester uncertain certainty
father mother sibling offspring un-othering completion
takes domination pseudo-science’s conjectures
concatenating refutations of the blinding path and vision
The butterfly who flaps the wings the roots to fly
propels the grounded theories of places times
in foresight hindsight blind-sight sentinel sensation
full of telling meaning narrative enlivened imperceptibility
Embraces cuddles rejects rejection rediscovers lost
and lonely loving horizontal longitude the lateral
collateral imprisonment of iron cages rational irrational
emotional confinement liberation freedom from and of
Enshrines in effervescent transcendental condensation
of what perspires inspires transpires in the illuminated
darkness boxes ignorant lamenting shallow high rise entities
makes love to sensual cognition consensual chaos
Or is it co-sin cuisine havoc’s Karma dishy chaperone
and chastised illusion disordered fusion fission
elemental monument harmonious disintegration musky
tall minuscule order rising falling standing firm
When thereafter now again before and yet again I loose
the plotting pot containing potty madness sane insanity
I ask my cousin and the loopy loops and square shaped circles
question the Universe that stays aloof precise and altogether mine
02nd June
I spend time with a friend
well, a pseudo-friend
an acquaintance of sorts
no, I guess he'd be a friend,
****, who knows
one of those types you never really share your heart
that authentic trembling you
I guess
he's more like a radio station
on a long lonely road trip in the night
or late night cable when the kids have left
a thousand channels
bright flickering nothing
we meet after hours in the deepest of dives
I just sit, listen,
curl myself into that hunching shape
looking like someone piled old laundry on a stool
and act as chaperone
an escort of sorts, you know, like those fresh faced kids in college
earning some bucks walking lifesize cartoons around for pictures
and with a bar top slap, I know he's got one, he's revved up
a steampunk machine running on old rye and spasms
"know this! I have faith in our sacred family values, our brave military and our cellular plans!"
(it's hard to not chuckle a bit, enjoy the aerating effect a good laugh does to spirits and your pallet, just avoid aspirating too much or you bellow and cough like an amateur drinker, good god don't show weakness in a place like this or the crows will circle and I swear the shadows lengthen under the bar)
most times, as I sit next to him, removed from his sphere
detached observer that I always find myself
I notice he talks to that small sliver of himself seen between the dirty glasses
piled up against the old mirror with faded silvering
and the blackened spots frame his face
like an old time picture
representing a vast loneliness of a nation
this goddamn solitude we find in crowded rooms
"My opponent here is working with Chilean miners, violent video game makers and angry chefs, goddammit"
once curse words are added, we'll be on our way soon
the barkeep's tips weren't that big
and the mutterings from the corners are beginning
as his outbursts begin to chisel into the hazy bubbles of regulars
I pull him out into the night
away from cheap wine and leaded glass
red faced, blustering,
cool air confusing him for a moment
and, lightswitched, he walks with a purpose,
back to the maindrag and streetlights,
calling it a night with a wave and one last holler:
"I want an America where Somali pirates and Rupert Murdoch yes-men cannot corrupt our precious environment!"
I just stand and wave back.
Self
standing, solus
candle, ushering
baptism prayer
gifting loved ones
sacred life,
a promise to
always be
there.
|
|
guide deceased on their journey,
witness teary eyes, turn blurry
watch over eulogy speech,
offering authentic peace
vibrant, fiery complexion
wavering hue protection,
assisting ghost invitations
observe vital declarations,
seal high status documents
letters, scrolls, for the president
crimson, custom made stamps
back when candlesticks lit lamps,
religion exchange light for money ~
honour souls, lost down on one knee
centrepieces chaperone romance,
Capturing a tender glance
scented aromatherapy
meditation, calm, serenity
comforting memorial shrines
befriends a glass of blush wine,
sheen lustre uplifts sorrow ~
hope for a brighter tomorrow
Where have the old days gone - I used to as a child, run out of the door, bye Mum ,then I was gone, no cell phone, no chaperone, bit of change in my cute little purse and I was off running free, playing games, calling on friends, climbing trees. Back home for tea. Where have these days gone. Now there is a dreary park outside, no phone box, no kids out playing, no one climbing trees. I used to use the phone box and reverse the charge to home in emergencies, now if you find one its 60p or credit card or text messages only or your mobile has no signal or you have no credit! Or no battery. Where have the old days gone ? On the bus cost me 2p to town, get some makeup, see a movie, buy some jeans and still have change from 20pound, I'm not that old either. People used to stop and say hello, how are you, how's your Mum. Now no one stops to talk. No one knows my Mum. Jeans cost at least 20 pound and the bus is a fiver there and back. The cinema is closed here and the one in the next town is freezing inside. It also cost around 7pound each. You can't smoke anywhere now either, the cigarettes are dissapearing off posters, people are rewriting history. Where have the old days gone. We used to have a Tv you got up and changed yourself haha, now the remote is lost or it has no battery or you have no signal or the bill isn't paid. Oh and now you have to pay for all your channels, we didn't have sky or computers when I was little. Letters from friends used to come through the door. Now if you haven't got a mobile you cant keep in touch with anyone. Fish and chip shops don't have chips ready anymore and they don't do proper gravy, or peas. Everything costs a fortune now, Fish and chips is like a treat not a meal you can just afford. Now you have to wait for half an hour for it. Where have the old days gone. Kids used to have to behave haha now they are screaming so loud I can't hear their Mother speaking. In the old days we had a community, we knew who our neighbours were. Are we really progressing? It seems to me that we have gone backwards in time to a time where computers have become the giant. Tv is an accepted form of entertainment for the family or to shut the kids up. Going on holiday is a luxury . Banks are closing. Shops are closing. Cctv is normal. Where have the old days gone?
THE AL-ANDALUS QUARTET
THE AL-ANDALUS QUARTET: PART ONE
GIBRALTAR / DJEBEL-TARIQ 711 AD / 92 AH
In the eyes of the hawk
Djebel Musa to Djebel Tariq
is the tactical distance across the
turbulent waters where the blue
Mediterranean meets the
endless blue sea
The dark swirling currents and
the threatening waves, mediate
traffic between the east and the west
like a vigilant father in a Numidian tribe,
and like a doting negassa, chaperone
a wedding at the Rock of Gibraltar to
marry the landscapes of Africa and
Europe, stir the chaotic brooding of
Christianity’s north with the volatile
moods and enraptured exuberance of Arab
and Berber, soon Tuareg and Black, the
stormier winds of Maghreb and mission
from the Islamic south,
and on this new day as a military favor
to the warrior Tariq, mask the
gathering sounds of derbouka, sagat,
war-horse and armor, zurna, al-oud,
turban, tunic and the long curved sword
at the sharp leading edge of a shining
idea which, like a flaming sharuq of
faith and surrender from Djebel-Tariq
to the Guadalquivir, from the Guadiana
north to the Tagos and Duero, to the
Ebro and the Pyrenees, the territory
beyond, through the chasms and
gorges of the disintegrating map of
the Hispano-Romano, Visigoth and
Vandal, will conceal Ano Domini
beneath Hijriyyah in a new land
of Allah called Al-Andalus
Sharuq (Arabic): A hot dusty humid southeast wind in southern Europe that begins in the Sahara and picks up moisture as it crosses the Mediterranean. Spanish: Sirocco. Italian: Scirocco
Emanuel Carter
This bedlam! The sinkhole atop my corpse!
Derelict; God too refused to Love me!
Hope becoming less. Dying as it warps.
Despair; that too seems to be above me.
Lost between fringes of my psychosis.
Remnants of a beautiful shattered mind.
Every fragment seely upon notice.
My struggle with the self that I can’t find.
My chaperone of double mindedness
leads the way; trending along a bevel.
Hopes leverage against death’s entry test
despite being designed by the devil.
Resolution lost within dialogue.
My illusion diagnosed: Mental Fog.