Best Costumed Poems
Charmed by her exotic glance
She enchants a sexy dance
In costumed display of art
Strumming rhythms of joyful heart
Choreographing slow grooves
In graceful, musical moves
As gestures paint passion themes
And song of love stokes their dreams
When desires-enamored spree
Hypnotized in tunes of glee
But look closely, watch her sigh
Hear the bawl of tearless cry
When crowds deceitful extol
Exhibit of anguished soul
As smiles aesthetic hide pain
And feigned visage cries disdain
Cheer for her to turn the page
For she longs to leave this cage
Leave realms inebriated
Of drunk notions, ill-fated
There they come,
I see them from my window
Although it's very dark
The streets lights make them glow
I closed and locked each shutter
As it seems like I’m in Limbo
While anxious for the sun to rise,
I feel the panic grow
They're coming here tonight
And fear runs through my bones
Although I've turned off all the lights
They know that we are home
They want and come to feast
To strip us to the bone
And eat our flesh and brains and blood.
So close, I hear their groans
With my children huddled 'round me
As I hold my darling bride
I pray to God for all I'm worth
They cannot get inside
Now I hear them on the front porch
And it, can't be denied
Once they're in the front door
There’ll be no place to hide
But my wife broke free,from me
And headed to the door
In all these years I've never seen
My wife so brave before
I stretched my arm out to her
"Don't open" I implored
Then twenty costumed kids rushed in
Just like the year before
Ballet of the Stars
Breath of the galaxy spins the night sky
Over the magic of midsummer dreams
Legends, lovers, pirouette through the night
Sculptures of fire carved with airy light beams
Dances l’etoile sparkle winter rondeaus
Gossamer nebulas leave stardust veils
Ensembles of stars in stellar tableaus
Costumed in lightness made of starry faille
Astral ballets dance on ebony stage
Patterns of stars in place in this dark space
Stage left then stage right arrangements change place
Celestial performance – rotating grace
Star-spangled glitter on star twinkle toes
Scrim curtain rises on nighttime’s light show.
5-18-23
Contest: Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
Celestial – 3 syllables
Performance – 3 syllables
Serenading voices of snow geese thrum in the morning sky
Unrivaled is the clangor of their echoed gabbles in October
Songs of Fall ride on the wind as russet leaves begin to fly
Unrobed are trees; stripped bare, looking bereft and sober
Ripened are amethyst crops of corn and grains in the field
Rivaled by a soft golden glow of the gibbous harvest moon
Undeniably beautiful, when in October its glow is revealed
Seduced by its romantic luminance, lovers kiss and swoon
On All Hallow's Eve, I see scary costumed trick-or-treaters
Feasting on candy given by generous household greeters
Ode to October, there's a chill aloft, whispering in the air
Conspiring with Mother Nature in such a glorious season
This pleasant month arrives with a stir of festive fanfare
Offering a kaleidoscope of colors, and with good reason ~
Brushes in artists hands paint landscapes of Autumn days
Eagerly, I welcome those dazzling hues that seem to blaze
Rife with splendid riches, I chant October's songs of praise
~ October 2, 2020 ~
Pick-A-Title, Vol 23-Seasonal Acrostic Contest
~ Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh ~
The world in 100 years ... Oh, perish the thought
Former President, Ronald Dump, who was cryogenically frozen following his assassination after winning the ‘No Bull’ Peace Prize in December 2018, has been successfully defrosted.
Ronald Dump recently defeated his son, former President Barrrrron Van Dump, in the lunar by-election. President Dump will be taking up his forty year term at his office-in-the-round penthouse suite at ‘Lunar-Tic Towers’. This magnificent golden palace-like structure is situated on the fringes of the 29th bunker on the dark side of the moon. Naturally, it is a member’s only golf club and entry is strictly by special invitation only. It will be staffed by scantily costumed Honey-Bunny girls and models who the Dump handpicks. They will attend to every need and whim of his guests, unless he requires their expertise "handling."
President Dump will be supported by his android wife, Argenta, (humanoid model number 3060 with real hair and life-like body parts) who superseded the old model 'Milionairluva', who sadly could not be revived due to silicon and botox poisoning which ran rampantly throughout her Barbie doll body
The Lunar-Tic Towers will be totally off limits to the paparazzi so there can be no photographs taken of the Irn Bru brewing facility of his favourite drink which was banned in Scotland. He seeks to insure that no "fake news" stories are leaked by the press.
In his bid to tackle rising unemployment, currently standing at 99.6%, Dump will be advised by his new best friend and strategist, Kym Dung Hung Lo. This humanitarian almost obliterated the human race by detonating a nuclear warhead at the Dung Hung Lo Toy Factory which was caused when Dung Hung Lo threw his dolly out of the pram. So impressed by such a move, Dump hired him and invited Dung Hung Lo to be his number 2 to succeed him.
May God bless the earth, what little is left of her .. she needs all the help she can get with these two lunar tics in charge
6/1/18
100 year Contest sponsored by Brian Davey
Inspired by the Connecticut tragedy and another minor shooting that happened in my home state
-------------------------------------
Blood and Bullets
That night we cried ourselves to sleep
For each of the little children the blood did weep
Serve upon this misery and damage
No words will excuse the savage
The vultures swoop, spread the sugar coated lies
But still the frozen child dies
Yet they still wish to remove what little safety we have
But they fail to see that will not stop the slings and arrows they have
For the media projects the fame they crave
Like wild dingos they consume what we fail to save
Serve and protect is not the duty of just some but all as a whole
ALL AS A WHOLE
And we fail
And we fail
The cameras prance around like costumed horses in a dance
All the while the mud splattered reality burns and singes the lines of damned fantasies
We are to blame, shining glitter and fame on the damned souls that should be burned
We spit acidic words of hate all the while praising them in glittering spectral lights of fame
They do not heed the angry words, but revel in the talk of them...them..
Them...
It's
All
About
THE KILLER
Blood and bullets pollute the spoiled ground but no one cares for the rotten
Sadness rings through for a week but soon the victims are forgotten
But no one forgets the criminal...Infamous
He is immortalized by the fame...fame...infamous
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood stains
Bullets jump
dead forgotten
left rotten
Monster remembered
remembered
Blood and bullets
Blood
and bullets
From my window, darkness was quickly descending.
Costumed creatures were walking about, pretending
to be goblins and ghosts, expecting me to be scared
and totally freaked out, for which I was not prepared.
I'd been warned about evil spirts on Halloween night,
and vampires rising from coffins to give my neck a bite,
but no one had cautioned me, "Beware the living dead!"
I laughed it off and scoffed at a zombie's decayed head.
Around me creepy crawlers slithered. I felt an eerie chill.
but I was trick-or-treating for candy; my bag I'd yet to fill.
Across the blood red moon, flew witches in pointed hats.
Their dark silhouettes joined by a flock of shrieking bats!
I saw a man dressed as a baby, but he looked like a brute.
He growled at me, so I ran as he chased me in hot pursuit.
I thought I'd be attacked when suddenly there appeared
skeletons whose clicking bones pointed at me and jeered.
With worry I started thinking, Could these things be real?
Something nibbled on my hair. How horrid it made me feel!
I went to a house with a porch light, hoping for Tootsie Rolls,
but screamed when in the open door stood sneering Trolls.
I tried to convince myself that this was just some silly hoax,
by friends trying to make me cower with their wicked jokes.
With a bit of bravado, I rang another doorbell, undaunted,
but fled again when I saw signs that the house was haunted.
How I wished for the power to fly away on a witch's broom
and escape the macabre apparitions on this night of gloom.
Now filled with trepidation and dread, I darn near fainted
wondering if the sweet treats I'd collected were all tainted.
Somehow, I managed to make it home but could not sleep.
Snarls from under my bed gave me goosebumps, skin-deep.
October 22, 2022 ~ Halloween Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Along the harbor shores at Gammel Strand
where other costumed fishwives ply their trade,
I trudge along the cobbled Danish dock
and barter with the catch to earn my pay.
My voice is harsh and roughened by the chore,
when once my petticoat was pink and lace,
yet now it reeks of fish and nothing more
while wind and sun is drawn upon my face.
But here, within, I'm still a princess bride,
whose dreams anew float on the evening tide,
yet start awake and washed with mornings ebb -
another day to wear a calloused pride...
I’m invisible to you.
I’m invisible to everyone
I’m here but I’m not
People see me but they don’t
They know me but they don’t
I am not what I seem but
You nor anybody else knows that
I am invisible
What you see is not me
I am invisible
What you see is an imposter
Costumed up for your own importance
Who I am is invisible to everyone
But you don’t care
I am invisible
Oh, Death
What do you do when you tire of being you?
Realize that as Shakespeare said:
“all the worlds a stage”
and you play but a bit part
a whimper, a shout,
a repetitious nightly death…
then dawn.
Oh dawn,
Oh blinking ray of heaven’s lie
deny me this feigned applause,
limp roses, tattered curtain call.
Oh, death
Oh dimming light of sunset
show kindness
as you edit out my role,
discard my costumed lie,
remove me from the stage.
My final line an echo
searching for an exit.
John G. Lawless
©7/18/2021
Dazzling lights
Throngs of people
Walking through crowded streets
Reminds us of why we live here
Costumed performers - Bright theatre marquees
Seeing those sights brings happiness
to native and tourist alike
Autumn - a chill in the air
Undaunted, the bustling crowds
head for dinner and a show
No place quite like it anywhere
The masses of people
are taking their full measure
of urban joy
Double decker buses move down the avenue
as newcomers to the Big Apple get their firs bite of it
Even those who have lived here
their entire lives
Still feel exhilarated as they pass Times Square
Electricity lights up the metropolitan scene
The city is working its magic
Untold thousands on the avenue
Eyes meet - a feeling of urban love
works its way into the hearts
of the masses gathered there
The city
Poem 18
Percival Jordan
1892 - 1912
I am where I am
Because of who I was.
I imbibed a million breaths
And observed the stars dotting the night skies
Like actors taking the stage for another eternal encore.
I am in the air
As I am in the ground.
And I know the truth now.
Life was an impossible possibility.
Born of pleasure and fear and desperation.
And I’m relieved the ridiculous race is over.
I spent most of my carefree days here in Clark Cemetery.
Helping Artilissa water the flowers.
And as a boy I played amidst the sunken graves.
I sat in silence like a scheming spider
Under the stretching shadows of the old tombstones.
I wrote poems to the dead
And read the Psalms aloud
With my many lady friends dressed in silk
Sitting scandalously close to me.
Under a darkening full moon shade one evening
I kissed Ethel Woodstock on the lips
And I released my emerging manhood
With a simmering sigh.
I felt strangely odd when Ethel died that night,
Enveloped in her mother’s helpless embrace.
I placed a rose bud upon her mahogany casket
And I cried as a light rain descended
Upon the drinking gorged ground around us..
Indeed I was the annoying little boy in the graveyard;
That flim-flaming rascal
With the cocky smirk of a broken gentleman.
With costumed enterprise,
I tricked many a passerby
With repeated low-moaning dirges
From behind the Hadley tombstone.
Their screams were hilarious but they never caught me.
God knows I had plans.
Plans to be a lawyer.
Plans to be an electrician.
Plans to be married and to find peace of mind.
But when I awoke one cold morning in 1912,
My bed was soaked in warm blood,
And all my plans were forever harvested by the Grim One.
I love Clark Cemetery in the autumn.
When the leaves turn dark and deadly.
When the rippling landscape illuminates the truth and finality of all things.
Life is just a fast-moving storm
And none of us has the time to notice the returning rainbow.
Oh, for a simple cup of coffee again!
Which - 'Witch' is which :)
when a Bat doesn't need a ball to fly home,
can’t tell a Black Kat from a black cat in Rome
a wood bat has no wings to hit one homer,
havin' fun, can't stay home alone
Which Jack Lantern beats a Pumpkin
in one’s store hands-down:) a hand crafted,
one set alone...over any other lit in a window
at someone's home,
Witch screams from a 'mat' is louder...
than a cat, or 'Kat's Tale' when stepped on
then asked 'What is the mat-ter'
[Or-One]
Witch's hungry howls for a 'Black Kat'
thirsty to mugg some new Witch...
costumed 'City Kat' on some 'White block',
draped in a black cape, on a black pitch
night, not Knight, all out of candy hard rock
'meow',
Which U hear- Ghostly bats or Witch's HELLO?
'WhO' me or BOO; on Fright Night’s city streets,
Witch Trick's or treat for pumpkin sweets...
which is, also known, in our City as Holloween.
Sebring: long ago
humid heat leaches will
blue lakes and brown swamps
“Caution Alligators”
transformative sunsets
clockwork storms and
lightning balls
cactus spine sabotage
fire ants flip flops
alligators eat marshmallows
from a stick
trees costumed in air plants
and Spanish moss
Grand Prix dreams
beaches buried deep in shells
green waters beckon
Jays riding my head
garden shed baby squirrels bouncing
people I've loved
O, the people I've loved.
07/23/2015
Crisp, chilly evening air.
Prolonged nights greet silent,
pearlescent segments of a far off moon.
Fallen leaves scrape, tumble, and wisk down
village streets, driven on by phantom breezes.
Solitary late night strolls enfold one in
clear, frosty air stinging face and cheeks.
Carved pumpkins glow and illuminate.
Straw-stuffed eerily dressed ghosts adorn porch
and front lawn. Swift fluttering shadows of batwing.
Fallen leaves are raked and burned along street curbs.
The kindled piles of crisp leaves become
gathering points for neighbors and conversation.
They add light to the gathering dusk. Aromatic smoke
wafts skyward, dissolving eerily in the night air.
Parade and snake dance. Marching band
and fight song. Cheerleaders and wagon rides.
Homecoming celebration and bonfire.Caramel apples
and tangy cider. Halloween. Costumed children
begging sweet treats. The laughing ghouls of "All Hallows."
Harvest blades drone endlessly through frosty cold
night hours. Night air carries echoing sounds of reaping,
drying down, and storing. The gray fingers of
ghost-like clouds fly and soar, grasping to hold
the fathomless purple deep.
Festival and homecoming. Bounty and long abiding
friendship. Nights reveling in age-old ghost stories.
Hearts warmed near great wood fires. A season of
fruition. Gathering, sharing, caring. October.
Come Fall Again
10-6-15