Best Charmers Poems
The blind man held his tin cup;
Bewildered was he as he felt
Slippery hands on his own
The cup getting heavy as he knelt.
A voice said “That’s the last of it.
All my pennies from 2001.
It’s now your very own property,
I want you to have some fun.”
The blind man’s eyes started flowing.
He didn’t want to take the child’s money,
He said “I can carve you a whistle,
Come tomorrow and we’ll play it, Sonny”.
Sonny came back on the morrow;
The blind man lived up to his word.
Together they played like snake charmers;
Soon by a producer were heard.
Their recordings are renown in the country,
But that’s not the important conclusion.
The blind man had a new son, and Sonny
Had a father to guide him through teen confusion.
You're bored, you say? Let's bring on the bears
and dance them around the ring.
You should learn how to juggle or fly a trapeze
'cause I'm sure bored by YOU, ding-a-ling.
You've nothing to do? Let's bring on the lions
and elephants too. When that's through,
let's watch a human cannonball fly.
(I'll suggest that the human be you.)
Tired of me too? Let's bring on the clowns.
Your smirk I so want to erase.
Let them come out with dogs and on stilts
and then throw a pie in your face!
You're DYING of boredom? Let's bring on snake charmers
and the guy who swallows a sword.
Let's make you the target for throwers of knives.
Facing death, you might not feel so bored!
You need an escape? Let's bring on the freaks,
contortionists, and at last, dear,
people who practice escapology,
who can then help you to disappear.
April 17, 2019
for the Bring On The Dancing Bears Poetry Contest of John Lawless
(with all the many things to do in this world, I hate when someone says,
"I'M BORED" well, unless they are forced to be in a place they don't want to be and they have no pen and paper or technological devices on them!)
Let me set something straight -
Right here, right now!
Let me put India in the right perspective,
Let me banish some myths,
Some gross misconceptions,
And take you beyond elephants,
Sacred cows, snake charmers and yoga,
Beyond Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Taj Mahal,
To a civilization rooted for
over 5,000 years in the past
To a land rich - majestically rich -
In many cultures, customs and traditions,
In a bewildering variety of races,
Religions, languages and folk arts,
In a vibrant tradition of dance and music,
In religious festivals and traditional events,
In saints, sadhus, gurus and sages,
In gods, goddesses, munis and mahatmas,
In temples, palaces, shrines and monasteries;
I'll baby-steps you through a land
Of Vedas and Upanishads,
Of epic stories and incredible mythologies,
Of Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita,
Through one of world's great spiritual sanctuaries,
Where religion is a way of life;
An overwhelming, complex land -
Its charm, its vitality and yes, its confusion,
Atonce alarming and enticing.
And that's the way India is:
Elusive, confusing, contradictory,
mysterious and exasperating!
Beyond easy description or analysis,
A phenomenal diversity of dress
and manners making one aware
of a different world -
A veritable fairyland!
No other country offers quite such
A spectacle of teeming masses that
continue to enrich the heritage of mankind,
Nowhere do the past and present
coexist in more colorful promiscuity -
An incomparable country,
Easy to love, hard to forget!
"There's only one India!" raved Mark Twain,
"A wonderland of fabulous wealth
and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags ..."
"The cradle of the human race,
The birthplace of human speech,
The mother of history,
The grandmother of legend and
The great grandmother of tradition."
This, indeed, is my country
Where I was born -
An Indian at heart,
An American in spirit!
Namaste!
Khuda Hafiz, Jai Ramji Ki,
OM Radhe Shyam, Sat Sri Akal,
Jai Hind!!
~Love letters to the sub continent
contest by cyndi MacMillan
Ah, to this land of the monsoons
or should it have been the sunsoons?
Yet for frozen land tourists, a tropical hot boon.
Where bullock carts, stray dogs, horse carriages and cows
pedestrians, goats, bikes and rickshaws
scooters, trucks, motorbikes and cabs
all compete together in quirky medley of traffic jams
On crammed roads you could ram into bulls and rams
So brakes forever screeching, the cars forever honking, hooting
while beggers begged and pickpockets could go a' looting on a footing
But where else you'd see, ducks and ponds in the city
buffaloes wallowing in mud without fear or pity!
Urban jungle eh, you'd think with a wink
and in many's esteem this land shan't ever sink.
Then pass the huge expanses of paddy fields and the rice farmers
and next come face to face with those Indian snake charmers!
Ah and the imposing edifice, Tajmahal, one of the seven wonders of the world
is no where else found, nor are the epic himalayas on any map unfurled
except for India, and a whole ocean with her name
The Indian ocean knows and salutes her fame!
As for me, meeting relatives there, is the best best part
then shopping too in each and every crowded mart
shopping like crazy, filling my spree's shopping cart!
Tobruk Siege
Rommel of the Blitzkrieg
had Europe overcome
With the Stukas and dive bombing
And the Tanks that overrun
North Africka would see his tanks
il Duce’s troops were beat
Aussies took 20,000 Italians
At Tobruk in stinking heat
In Europe when his tanks arrived
The captured did surrender
The Poms escaped at Dunkirk
The English well remember
Morsehead an Aussie General
He baited the trap
Strategic mines, artillery, cooks
manned Italian guns , and ack ack.
Tobruk the Panzer tanks came in
The rats went down their holes (Desert Rats Aussie Diggers said Lord Haw Haw)
They rose behind the tanks
Wehrmact soldiers bullet holed
25 pounders fired at just point blank
with cooks and Pommy Armour
Were thinning German ranks
true blue these little charmers
So they blew the turrets off
16 of the best
Unbeaten until this point
A trace of fallen crest
8 long months they dished it out
Though Rommel tried again ……….(lost just as many tanks again)
He had to wait till the Aussies left
To take Tobruk from them
Don Johnson
70 years ago, the Afrika Korp would attack the 14,000 Aussies and Tommy Tank men, Also known as Rats.
The Tanks rolled into the perimeter, Aussies sprang from their holes and fought the German Soldiers behind the tanks, “We shut the gate behind them” the Aussies said.
This thorn in the side in Rommel ‘s mind allowed time for the massive replacement of
armour destroyed by Rommel, with American tanks. The siege held for 240 days in
what is now today’s , Gaddafi’s Lybria. These Aussies were used to living rough
sleeping on the ground
walking from town to town in the great depression, they were brought up on roo or pig shooting and the occasional rabbit.
hold still, eventide ...
I am a capricious cad among wraiths,
waltzing with a mop in
a Marrakesh courtyard - catching stars
as they drip with waxy and
wild wonder, into the braids of my maudlin
noose, tightening
jangling, dangling ...
rose gold anklets, (wrapped 'round leggy perfection),
shimmer their hammered facets,
kicking smoke into toroidal hoops with
raw regard
while they spin, table-top, to a
Chaabi chant
candles waving their
flames to beckon the darkness close ...
notes from a punji weave
mystery thru the heavy heat, Henna-striped hands
cradling a bottle, jade green, as the
white flowers gush their cold, gold bounty
down a curvy thigh
wetly wrapping an unblemished
capuccino calf, Perrier-Jouët trickles off tender
toes to plop, warm, on my
tantalized tongue
I kiss the fuchsia-daubed nails to
show proper veneration, then spin back to
the murky music, mop-handle
lover in tow
down to the spinning
tie-dyed rugs and pillows, I surrender all to the
callow flesh there, wanting ... willing
her hair and hide and ebon eyes
dark as delirium, while the brass-headed
snake-of-a-hookah waits
for a kiss
long draws bring dizzy
dreams and hypnotic swirls from the lamp,
aromas and an opiate nirvana coiling
around my cares
lost as a lamb, to soft skin ...
and sweet smoke.
( Jemaa el-Fnaa Square in Marrakesh is one of the most active and exciting places on earth, with exotic foods, snake-charmers, clothes and antique vendors, magicians, dancers, haqle or street theater, storytellers, acrobats, musicians, comedians, water sellers, tattoo artists, carnival acts, even organ-grinders with monkeys, and yes, opium and hashish traders. It has remained largely the same for over a thousand years, and is indeed an important part of history, declared by UNESCO as a "Masterpiece of World Heritage" - if you're ever in Morocco, it is a MUST-see! )
Bell-shaped English Bluebells
Violet face of lilac landscape
Charming tints of scarlet
Exuberance of Maple Red
Red, white, upright Tulips
Preening of vibrant spring
Whistling breath of wind
Kisses swaying Daffodils
Laden droplets refracting
Gleam of rose-petal gems
Bluebird’s pine-needle nest
Home of blueish green eggs
Crocus purple flowers
Amethyst glory of jewels
Scented Lilly of the Valley
Blooming white charmers
Rainbow colors of Hyacinth
Jewels glinting window sills
Spicy fragrant Dianthus
Apex of prized decorum
July 4, 2020
Placed 1st: Strand Completely New Poetry (5) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
I have seen them stand outside my door,
pleading mother to help stage their show,
on our verandah with stony floor,
tattered clothes, hungry child, wife on tow!
dusty robes speak of miles he walked,
two woven baskets on wooden yoke,
usual wares with which he embarked,
a venomous trade to feed his folks!
with widened eyes I saw him sit down,
his sweat pouring down in summer heat,
mopping face and brow with long sleeved gown,
asks favour of water, food to eat!
rested and nourished his show is on,
a crowd of urchins get a free peep,
melody like from an old car horn,
he blows sharp and sweet but yet so deep.
speckled cobra nearly five feet long,
rocks in anger with an open hood,
heat of summer is no time for song,
disturbed from slumber, how very rude!
As child was overawed by his skills,
such deadly snakes controlled by his Been*,
there is tragedy behind each thrill,
truth of life, often hidden unseen!
snake charmer’s life is twin tragedy,
education denied from a child,
for snake it is to be in custody,
to lose their freedom to rule the wild!
let’s solve this tale with education,
help their children go to a good school,
use their skills to help conservation,
so the snakes roam free, the wild to rule!
*Been a musical flute made from a coconut shell used by snake charmers to distract the snake
Premier contest winner (3)
Written 4/01/2021
9 syllables each line except one that has 10 syllables
‘The Snake Charmers’ poetry contest
Kai Michael Neumann sponsored
Ars Poetica
Poetry should woo you with the subtlety of a snake charmers flute
sway you side to side, captive, held in its sensuous grasp.
The words should lead you blindfolded through a myriad of meaning
allowing you to feel each step, each syllable, each inflection.
Rhymes glide frictionless against the grain of reason’s
attempts to intervene, to interpret a heart.
Every pause a calculated hint of passion’s smoldering depth,
the Yin and Yang of its heartbeat. Cadence should slow the rapid reader,
invite the trinity – mental, physical, spiritual - to dally in reunion.
The start should lead you forward to quench an insatiable thirst,
fueling the desire for more. The ending should return you
to the beginning of your love, rekindle the waning flames
of an appetite – semi-sated – yet still hungering.
6/1/2015
Note – It is the nature of the poet to provoke – not to explain. He may provoke anger, joy, laughter, tears, thoughtful reflection or horrific revulsion. The poet may never know what will resonate with the reader, what the poem will find in them,
what word or phrase will haunt them, taunt them, console them, entice them to read another poem.
Two way street
a common road
so much esteemed on the way one go's
Those who build a world with hands
and the bodies beaten to build those plans
Others figure with minds of brilliance
while charmers amass financial assistance
Our world, our human existence.
Dividends balanced in skewed proportion,
like the honor of men who have heart or the hunt
those who are trained to be manly men
or the smooth handed man "that world" would shun
Judge not cruel your fellow mate
for side of track their life encamped
what label worn or charity paid
to each a lovesome splendor attached
Behold the child with silver spoon
who feels no affection by day
or the orphans hair tenderly brushed
for Samaritans pity long the way
There beyond thou mansion fair
a beauty is beaten, lonely and scared
but she who wanders without a home
can be cherished more than riches owned
Our world, our human existence
Forfeiture or dispossession
affluent or highbrowed
all the difference still remains
to be loved or disavowed
I've pondered the pages between their covers
'twas this simple fact I've found...
our world is a quilt stitched by cultures
a solitary thread woven within and without
The difference is no difference at all
except the heights from which one falls
seams tear apart and like fabric lives unravel
yet you'll never find a road left untraveled
Nothing exists beyond a need
and nothing is ever as it seems
Our world, our human existence
What then is that of highest value
that which sparkles or that which lives
The blessing found in every child
or how massive an estate can be built?
Traveled now in both directions
paralleling both sides of the journey
The greatest value one can attest
is to walk either road with mercy
Dignity lies estranged from pride
for pride is a predator disguised
One set in mind "I have arrived"
and shames the value of another's life
If on a one way street you'd rather
tread your way without your brother
go ahead
judge a book by its cover
Life is laden with countless pages
none void of feeling or untouched
Keep in mind the two way street...
where direction giving life is TO LOVE
My garden is dressed in lavender lace.
Fragrant flowers blooming in sweet array.
Sprays of lilacs bring a smile to my face.
Delicate charmers, swaying with such grace,
lure hummingbirds and bees with their display.
My garden is dressed in lavender lace.
Butterfly wings enfold them in embrace.
A few branches make a lovely bouquet.
Sprays of lilacs bring a smile to my face.
Planted near my porch is the perfect place,
their scent will linger for many a day.
My garden is dressed in lavender lace.
Arranged with ivy in cut crystal vase,
they brighten the room, painted soft dove grey.
Sprays of lilacs bring a smile to my face.
When fresh blooms are needed I will replace
them with new spikes. The dried become sachet.
My garden is dressed in lavender lace.
Sprays of lilacs bring a smile to my face.
6/19/16
Villanelle me a flower or flowers contest
Night of solstice
On a hot and humid June
The covenant of sisters
Gazing at the signs from the stony mound
On a night where comets fled the sky
We are sisters
We are Kindreds
Sacred daughters of Ophiuchus
Healers from the stars
Healers of Aesculapius
Snake charmers, doctors, herbalist
The thirteenth zodiac from where we came
The serpent staff we are led
We came to heal man
©2016 Bonnie Jennings The Thirteenth Zodiac
Accident-prone
Waitress work is interesting and busy
It’s not fancy and puts you in a tizzy
On my feet all day long working
Carrying trays to customers that can be entertaining
No time for errors on full course dinners
We want the meals to be winners
People come and go
Some I know, some to the door I would like to show
Some have humors
Some are charmers
Some enjoying their food and think the service is just perfecto
Some are disgusted with both; I want to give them the heave-ho
I want to throw away my apron, I’m going wacko
Carrying a full tray I trip on a loose carpet
Food all over them and me on my butt I set
Fortunately, they were understanding didn’t make a racket
Felt like an idiot, I wanted to exit
Try not making it a habit
Pouring coffee, someone distracts, oh a bad mishap
Turn and pour it on the customer’s lap
A five dollar tip was left on my cap
That l’d left behind because of my mishap
I melted and hid, I actually felt like I was in a trap
Now I have to face the boss’s wrath
Can I survive the aftermath?
©4/27/2015
Contest: The Pigeon Who Flew the Coop
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
When you hear a voice in the wilderness
That's tempting you in hours of loneliness
Remember the strength that was shown by Christ
In the desert those forty days and nights.
Demons are alert when you're at your worst
They'll come along when you hunger or thirst
When you feel that life is losing sparkle
They quickly jump in, dodgers are artful.
Rogues are charmers who appear day or night
And we are tempted when a demon strikes
We're only human and induce mistakes
Throughout life's journey goodness is at stake.
Coming along with evil will at heart
Their aim is for fine folk to fall apart
Devils in disguise is what demons are
Feeding off the meek alone when it’s dark.
We’re all aware who the evil beast is
So why do some find it hard to resist
Refuse and stay strong, be thou not a fool
For fools rush in and forget all God's rules.
When you hear a voice and there’s no one near
Pray to God and He’ll allay all your fear.
hereunder is served some poetry pouches full of love,
dear reader, stir them as you like,
if you wish you may crack them to pour into mouth,
you may smear them on your body
or you may sprinkle them on the ground
and then chant the name of god
with love and enjoyment
1.
the simplicity that rolls down
from the body of the sweet-meat
made by my mother
let it bring light
to our radish-red love-story
to hear or to notice
love
does not need
putting an ear on the wall
of the wall-street journal
the bottle could be filled
from the voice
when you go to fill the bottle
you would see that everywhere
the arrangement of picnic is ready
when i want to take part in that feast
my neighbours would drive me towards
the home
although i’ve spent all my life
running behind the love
2.
who’s won the muddy-battle
was yesterday’s politics
my addiction is actually to cater
the pouch of love
to develop all vitamins
and all bathrooms
people say you don’t love
the claps of the rats
yet i’ll come down
from the branch of a guava-tree
as a wave-of-shopping-mall
to the lake of your love
now i’ll jump out
from this computer screen
to register a kiss
on your lips
don't miss to applaud
by clapping the hands
3.
the heart is half-sunk
in the window
to some extent
in the lipstick too
on the dinner-plate
there is the feelings of the lord
that means
i’ve to be burnt more
i do agree
i would become
the sculpture of khajuraho
this happenings may have been
the right search for love
on either-side of which
a green is being worked out
by the nostalgic-cycle
whose colour-texture is very much harappa
which has too many geometric-memories
4.
an undertone is speaking
from within the solitude
now i’m in very much
distress
or i’m in love
i don’t know my love is what-for
may be that’s an arrangement only
so easily are those interactions
stitched with words
strenuous or effortless
in flight
initiated
with seclusion
but when in the sinking of the playfulness
i write the games of the street-charmers
the birds again and again
pierce the archery
thus becoming ashes
through travelling
in time-gaps still
the audacity to compose poems
on you