Best Cozied Poems
Rubbing boys shoulders with sunburn oil. The sun smiles at the pain, the brush of fingers against raw flesh. But like a war wound, those boys be proud. Offer them a salve and they scoff, don’t need that stuff. Head back to the beach. Nudge them with a board and a wave, and they take off, up to their knees, casting themselves into the sea. Cheeks and hairlines have enemies, but the boys will wait for the tan that turns them brown, puffed up, back to tell the tales to jealous schoolmates.
They won’t speak of palm trees, nor the hot sand; perhaps they will not even remember what to say, until a prompt. Perhaps they won’t shut up about the knock down, drag out fights with the ebb and flow of riptides.
They might not remember the food that filled their empty bellies, but they enjoyed each bite of burgers at Ford’s Garage in the oldest city in America. I heard from an eyewitness that it has ghosts, the city, not this particular haunt.
Packed like fish, we headed to Florida, having to use one of the back seats for the overflow of things. My oldest grandson had to endure his seat, likened to a ball turret gunner. But this pubescent heartbreaker, though cramped, loved the isolation.
Speed traps, speedy biker, ear-splitting emergency vehicles, pelicans;
and a swift breeze upon a chilly-sunburn covered up with a soft blanket and cozied up to grandma (of course this is the nine year old).
Trip back as the GPS constantly pushed us farther from home, not in miles but in minutes and hours. But the miles moved quicker than a remembered icestorm where I couldn’t get home (only 10 minutes away), so like all long travel, the kids got their first taste, and survived.
So much to say, but signing off…
Sit-upons that we wove together.
The troop activity. How many spots
will remember me?
The wicker basket and picnic blanket
woven into the amphitheatre. We,
my hubby and I,
cozied up, listened to Amy Grant.
My towel, with the Caribbean islands,
sinking in the warm sand, waiting
for my salt-sea body to rest.
My familiar easy chair,
the grandkids are always
welcome to share.
The pews that retain glory and praise
on Sundays and Wednesdays.
The split-level stairs,
carpeted teal,
where I oft sit and watch
somersaults
and converse with a houseful.
There are the horses,
that lent their backs,
brought me to greater heights -
walked me on the Cozumel beach,
‘round Yukon’s emerald lake,
and one that wanted to dive off a cliff,
“whoa…no!” I took control.
On my childhood bed,
so close to my sister-cousin.
We laughed and shared -
now it's only in my memory.
The yellow bus, -
my hopes and dreams were sown
within its polyester seats.
So many places where I sat,
brimming above or below the surface.
So many places we stay and go.
We squat, recline, attack.
The corridor is darkly invasive
usurpation knows not where it steers,
my nightgown caught on wildfire,
ending was indubitably a flimsy inferno
dreaming phantasma went up in smoke
i was flying naked in my captured head,
blissfully feverish in comfortable suffering
chose not to wake as you prickled slumber,
whilst functionally violaceous pain screamed
taking flight to swap business dealings
i could have opted out, your gray reluctantly
presented within Pandora's key predicament,
contracts were sealed, sensed a lethal attraction
twisted mid your tongue tied transactional eyes,
you presented an untimely shiny gem,
was hungry for anybody with a flaw
we cozied up on a nonchalant sofa
underneath blankets of complexity,
shared a hot cuppa mocha java delusion
spiked with combustible confusion,
dripping havoc like beaten egg whites on crack
handed over lockbox to a transfixed universe
awoken to find the bomb had dropped,
missed wily antagonism & landed pon converted uppers
heeded being so high up amid gallerias' artfulness
titanic nightmare sank beneath three hours indifference,
the machine was out of order, swallowed another pill
spellbound hot air balloon was carried away for safekeeping,
all that was perceptibly audible were familiar Pink tracks on twisted breezes
'shine on you crazy diamond'
'Sorta delusional dreaming...'
The brisk Autumn breeze
crisply smiles and leaves
inviting seasonal ascendance.
Past dark hollowed eaves
her departing breath weaves
a path for Winter's wondrous entrance.
Courtly canyons kowtow
the mighty mesas bow
sparking December's grand revival.
Barren branches applaud
as mountain peaks laud
Jack Frost's ever welcomed arrival.
Carols liltingly sung
whilst wreaths are gently hung
silver enchantment lusters the ground.
The old and the young catch
snowflakes on their tongues
choirs of church bells neatly resound.
Cozied from silent chills
tapered candles sleep on sills
illuming the dusk’s frosted splendor.
A forest brook’s trickles
forge tiny icicles
dripping tears of crystal surrender.
Christmas trees brightly greet
joyous townsfolk on the street
tiny tots, all too well, understand.
Ole Saint Nick and his sleigh
are just a few stars away
from visiting their white wonderland.
Truelove skaters take flight,
under an arctic twilight,
snuggling snowbirds coo and entice.
Deer and bunnies espy,
'neath the moon's watchful eye,
young lovers etching hearts in the ice.
Winter’s sparkle and glow
softly sings in the snow -
her grandeur is timeless and few.
Yet, before her winds shift
she bestows us a gift
and Spring makes her yearly debut.
Met this gal from Ding Dong, Texas
Had warts all over her bum
I know because she showed me them
I got up and started to run
Her six foot twelve hulk of a brother
Said, "Boy! Best ya sits y'self down!"
I knew I should listen to brother Luke
The meanest damn dude in town!
So Anitabath, his ding-a-ling sister
Cozied up and quietly whispered
"How's if we have some fun in the hay?"
I quivered at having to kiss her!
I said okay as this ding-a-ling stripped
I cringed at her wart covered bum
Saw a chance and tried to scurry away
But Luke was on guard with a gun!
"Just where d'ya think yer goin', sonny?"
As he blocked my escape with his brawn
Just then I spotted a tiny opening
Took off like a skitterish young fawn!
I heard the ominous crack of his rifle
Felt around but could feel no pain
Got into my pick-up and took off like a shot
Never gone near Ding Dong again!
There's definitely a moral in this sad little tale
Don't hang out in a bar in Ding Dong
Less you're ready for some Texas hospitality
Say, "So long, sayonara, I'm gone"!
© Jack Ellison 2012
empty hearted herself
she cozied up to me
offering the magic
of imagination
of stories in the moonlight
of dancing early in the morning
around the misty lake
it didn’t pay to argue
for logic was always on her side
she was always right
i was always wrong
except sometimes
she would shock me
when the worm threatened to turn-
she would acquiesce
gifting me with a rare compliment
i did know what i was talking about
i could sew a straight seam
i could create
until i expected it
then she would turn, herself
and accuse me of perversion
in my imagination
in my poems and stories
when i wrote about the simple beauty of a young girl
and a small boy talking to a magic tree
- i must be a ‘closet something’
and why did i write about child molesters?
i had to stop sending her my thoughts
my dreams
my wishes
she was talented at opening me up
making me ripe for the killer sting
which i prayed would not come
this time
in that, she was always right
and i was always wrong
to hope she would ever change
“Cats teach us how to enjoy life. They savor every moment, from
the warm sun on their backs to the joy of a well-played pounce.”
– Anonymous
Snow stopped rubbing against my leg to get attention
when he became curious about Christmas tree lights
tangled all over the floor to the point of contention.
I saw him begin nibbling the bulbs, taking little bites,
so I shooed him away in a moment of apprehension,
afraid that he might break one. Oh, the hypertension!
That lasted all of thirty seconds, and Snow was back,
crouched in hunt mode, his eyes locked on a string.
I saw him tense, creeping closer, ready for the attack.
He chattered and launched himself like a coiled spring,
landing in strings and ran as if he was on a racetrack.
I reached for my camera. It was moment for my Kodak!
Instead of being frightened, he was perfectly content
to walk around, wrapped in lights from head to toe,
so, I let him prance like that for a while without dissent.
But when I tried to take them off, I got a hiss from Snow
letting me know that giving them up was not his intent.
It became a problem that I had to cleverly circumvent.
I thought that turning on the lights I'd already strung
might change his mind and fill Snow with a bit of fright
so, I busied myself with ornaments and stockings hung,
then found him cozied up beneath the tree. What a sight!
He was licking each brightly colored globe with his tongue.
That string still tightly wound around him, they were flung.
I didn't have the heart to take away his brand new toy.
While soothing him with my voice, I plugged him in,
standing by in case he was scared, but not my lil' boy.
Here's the photo and I swear, Snow is wearing a grin.
He's asleep before the hearth, on a pillow of corduroy.
A memory to treasure on this Christmas filled with joy.
When I placed a golden star atop my Christmas tree
I heard the faint mewing from beside the fireplace.
Snow's big blue eyes were open wide as if in plea.
I just couldn't stand the sad look upon my kitty's face
and put a star on his head, then got a holder for a battery
so his lights could move with him. Now, he's purring at me.
My love-starved eyes carved out
its first view of you
Spandex sculpted body standing in the company
of my worst frienemy
Saw you laughing lustily, looking at me,
over by the water cooler at the office party
And my wooden heart got chained
to the sound of your voice instantly
Modest introductions got tossed aside,
as you cozied up into my mahogany life
Enjoying your rock star status
of being a pampered item
Your will of fortune kept spinning me around,
winning every kiss-and-tell game
Lioness queen of my mental marionette castle;
I’m a puppet on the chain,
snap your fingers ... yank the strings
Making me bend to your every whim, giving you no hassle
I’m a puppet on the chain,
jerk my emotions up and down, all around:
Make me feel happy, make me feel sad
Make me feel angry, make me feel glad
I’m your boy Pinocchio ...
I’d be lying, if I ever told you no
I’m your puppet on the chain,
carry your picture in a locket
around my neck
Carry your heart in my pocket,
give you what you want ... purchase with no plastic
I move to the strings
of your mercurial feelings
I’m your puppet on a chain,
make me bow ... make me dance
I’m your puppet, pull my strings:
tease me with a naked glimpse of midnight romance
I’m your puppet on the chain ...
Even though I know
you’re gonna toss me away one day,
I will still always love you anyway
‘Cause I’m your puppet on a chain —
only you loved away my loneliness pain
Strains of chamber music fill the air
Invited guests have come to share,
Cozied pots filled with steeping teas
For the Kitties, Collie, Bear and me.
A table filled with a sumptuous fare,
Cakes, scones with cream, and a torte with pears
Served on plates edged in filigree
A perfect afternoon, a jubilee.
For Eve Ropers Contest: Rhyming Me a Poem Poetry Contest
11/12/21
Photo#4
Placed 1st in contest
I was drinkin’ wine that night in Mike’s bar,
She was cozied close to me in side booth
Me ship, anchored quarter league not so far,
lay in deep Frisco fog mate, that’s whole truth.
I was havin’ bloomin’ time in me youth,
For Frisco’s not so bad waitin’ over.
Rose loves likes of me, but she’s an old tooth,
Even so her wine put me in clover.
Me ship’s headed for the white cliffs Dover,
Lights in me head flickered, they left me daft.
I thought I should find now me ship, Rover.
My last hearin’ moment, I thought she laughed
Woke with me head hurting great at sea now.
Waitin’, breathin’ fumes of strange rust worn scow.
Monday night in my blue flesh
Shouldn’t complain it’s cold
Minnesota will be much crueler
and much warmer too
cozied up with the grandson crew
and their cockapoo
11/14/2022
My dream creature was a glorious sight
He kept me warm each and every night
With a walrus face
But he knew his place
And he cozied into it really tight
Some might belittle my alien guy
They might even ask me, why girl, why?
He is ugly sure
But intentions so pure
And man could he ever make me sigh!
My girl dumped me, she couldn't hack it
She said it was her or my fake leather jacket
We were together for 30 days
This jacket has cozied up to six Shaneyneys
Judy is my next target, so now I will have to chase her
I am the Mac Daddy rollin' in my Pacer
Camielle comes along and tempts my fate
Judy is now off the slate
Women need to use more self control
I am too much, I am hard to hold
Tomorrow there will be another one in line
I will not mess with her if she looks like the bride of Frankenstein
My dad is stressed, he's really working his pacemaker
I take him to the hospital, he's riding shotgun in my Pacer
The hospital will keep him over night
I buy some Mad dog 20/20, it's time to get tight
I am called the next day to pick him up
I tell him no ride, if you don't have a lid for that cup
I get pulled over for a sobriety test
The cop tells me I don't look my best
He makes me walk the long straight line
Then count forwards and backwards between 1 and 9
He tells me my car is so ugly, he's got to shoot me with his tazer
After the jolt I am allowed to leave steady rollin' in my Pacer
This dude over here, posts four lims a day
Five lines each makes a twenty line buffet
Writing them is a breeze
They flow out with ease
All cozied up under my flowered duvet
I was drinkin' wine that night in Mike's bar,
she was cozied close to me in side booth.
Me ship, anchored quarter league not so far,
lay in deep Frisco fog mate, that's whole truth.
I was havin' bloomin' time in me youth,
for Frisco's not so bad waitin' over.
Rose loves likes of me but she's an old tooth,
even so her wine put me in clover.
Me ship's headed for the white cliffs Dover.
Lights in me head flickered, they left me daft.
I thought I should find now me ship. Rover.
My last hearin' moment, I thought she laughed.
Woke with me head hurting great at sea now.
Waitin', breathin' fumes of strange rust-worn scow.