Best Cruised Poems
I can still recall the look upon His face
Each thought still makes me go to that enchanting place
The vernal air was floral sweet and honey breezed
We roamed along Venice's zigzagged lanes and cobbled streets
On our secret rendezvous,We hugged affectionately under pastel gothic galleries
Greeted by the aromatic smell of freshly brewed roast coffee beans
Strolling along the pigeon-filled piazza San Marco
We wandered hand in hand,in the serenissima ancient floating land
Street musicians played their flutes.as We sat on a roof-top wooden terrace
We glanced at merchants sell hand-blown murano glass
by the picturesque Doge's palace
We ate a snack , then walked away towards the old opera house
which now has risen from its ashes.
We sauntered forward through little alleys
from where He bought me ,a gold painted venetian mask
To my surprise ,He had another gift,a wrapped up scarlet sheer laced basque
I peered at him through my dark lashes,He raised his left brow and flashed a smile
Expressed his charm in playful ways,in a flirtatious endearing style.
Boarded at last on a black gondola,cruised the lagoon and the canals
A few light kisses,a few soft brushes,waiting the bell's toll whilst in his arms
There we lay in waiting beneath the bridge of sighs
We sealed our kiss and promised lips,to the harmonic sound of chimes
He leaned on me,I welcomed Him,our spirits been entwined
Above,the sky has changed its colour,I watched the sun set in his eyes
All I am,I gave to him,my enduring heart- His sacred shrine
All that He is He gave to me in once upon a time
Not for the contest,but thanks for the 'Lovemaking in an ancient place contest,inspiration'.
This post is inspired by Ancient Venice and the tale of 'The Bridge Of Sighs'
The tale goes-If you kiss your loved one with the bell's toll of St,Mark's Basilica,
at sunset,beneath the bridge of sighs,the couple seals their love forever.
There is another tale to it,a sad one,but preferred to share the happy one : )
A SONG THAT WILL ONLY MAKE SENSE
TO EAST COASTERS! (CANADA)
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
We’ve been to L’Anse Meadows, explored the Labrador.
Cruised the Ponds in Gros Morne Park, fished Caplin from the shore.
Raised a glass at Crow’s Nest, saw the sunrise Cape Spear beach.
Sang along with Great Big Sea, kissed the Cod and drank the Screech.
We’ve inner tubed the Nashwaak, fly fished the Miramichi.
Been to Historic Village in the heart of Acadie.
Climbed the Big Bald mountain, walked on Fundy’s floor.
Coasted up Magnetic Hill, scoffed at the Tidal Bore!
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
Sang “Farewell to Nova Scotia|”, drank Rita’s tea as well.
Danced all night at Ceilidhs, been to the Citadel.
Strolled the shore of Baddeck Bay, where the Silver Dart took flight.
Walked the wharf called Fisherman’s, the rocks at Peggy’s Light.
Sang “Bud the Spud!” with Stompin’ Tom, watched splinters fly away.
Ate lobster at church suppers, could hardly walk away.
Picked potatoes for the farmers, back in our childhood years.
Crossed Confederation Bridge, eight miles long me dears!
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
Ellis Pringle Craig, 2024.
Why won't they stop and talk me
I used to be of their kind and style
Why won't they reach out and touch me
If only to share a smile.
I used to be in their circus
I cruised the morning madness each day
Trying desperately to keep up with the Joneses
Until the bank swept it all away .
Am I a different man inside now
That I'm no longer in their game
And those I thought my closest friends
They no longer treat me the same.
I've never begged for food before
It brings such a sense of shame
But now it's a matter of survival
Not how it affects my name.
I see myself now in the passers-by
I see how I used to be
Perhaps God lead me to this point
To find the real me.
For the Homeless
The truth was concealed with many branches
Entangled on a trellis of deceit ,
The anger reflecting inked blots on weeds
As I cruised alone through evening’s approach...
To bid his disguise hidden like veiled twigs
Crumbling, withering in this labyrinth
Till the pretense of fidelity glared;
Siphoning a love untrue, root to bough...
How my heart sullen as dusk tumbled on,
Into a maze where a breeze folded its wings,
Its cry echoing my black homily
That in a daze I recalled his footsteps...
Yet, each step I trailed became ashen clay ;
His distorted ploy stirring a flamed rage
Where old leaves fall in the bleak of moonlight.
Lewis Rayne's Contest
Emotional Anger, hurt, rage
Submitted 12/1/2017
Awfully Cold
One of our hopes is that Isle of Man
Might become part of our cruise plan
Which will be with the Princess Line
More we hear about is mighty fine.
We have heard that part of the course
Long time ago was cruised by the Norse
And instead England never did ignore
Keep civilian prisoners was used for.
Your indigenous isle has hills and dales
And is even close to country of Wales
For maybe a few who seem to be bold
All round water is always awfully cold.
For Jan Allison
Jingle, jingle... jingle
As we emptied our piggy-banks
Hoping we saved up twenty five cents
Every Saturday afternoon, we would excitedly wait
Twelve O'clock sharp the bells would ring
Screen doors flew open when we heard them
The kids in the neighborhood...
Immediately stopped doing whatever they were doing
Whether the boys were flipping baseball cards or shooting marbles
Or the girls were playing Hop-Scotch or dressing Barbie dolls
We all ran to the corner of Craig street at noon
"All Aboard" yelled the fire chief
"Drop your quarters in the box and have a seat
Don't worry folks, this old jalopy runs well"
He was referring to the little red fire truck
It was rebuilt and custom made just for children to ride in
We cruised the back streets with our hands held high; screaming
'round every bend...we laughed
Tails wagged as dog's chased behind
Putt, putt... putt
"Ride over children, exist to the rear...
See you next weekend" the fire chief yelled
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
7-22-2019
I get a kick outta the writes I see,
So intellectual, how can that be?
I skipped two grades,
Was forced to take IQ tests again,
Cause no one as dumb as me,
Could possibly produce such a score, you see
Got 100% on regents exams,
Passed college entrance tests
Half drunk and dirty of dress
Cause I was up with friends
drinkin' and carousing like the rest,
And, Lord knows how, but I assure,
I aced the test, and even more,
To what was then considered
"The Poor-Man's Harvard"
I cruised through that as well,
No one was gona stop this Bell
But IQ tests, and scholastic grade,
Never has one, of a man be made
I still do get confused,
About how to wear two shoes,
My brain may be book-smart,
But comin' from the heart,
I've trusted when I really shouldn't
Was skeptical when imprudent
So here's this IQ wiz,
Don't know just who he is,
And street smart as a cat,
Caught in Dr. Zeuss's hat.
So teach your children well,
don't grow up to be like Tom Bell
Another as-I-go poem-and a true story (Even I still don't believe it!!!)
Three years ago, on a clear, nice sunny day...
By son and I were driving, just on our merry way
For some reason, why I wonder, I looked up and was shocked to see
A classic flying saucer, slowly cruising just above me!
Now, needlessly, I'm sure, you'll doubt what I will say
Even I do, but come what may, and even to this day
I couldn't utter a single word, so much was my surprise
I blinked and blinked, and blinked again, I could not believe my eyes!
I merely pointed up, for my son to take note
He followed my pointing finger
And, of a joint, he felt like he had a tote
Our jaws dropped open, both of us agape
It might as well been Superman, flying in his cape
Bright metallic silver, silent as a dove
Cruised on by before us, 500 feet above
Headed east over Queens county
at a slow andcomfortable pace,
I guess there's more out there,
than just the human race
So when next you see a movie
A science fiction tale..
With saucers and aliens too
Don't laugh it off my friend
Cause it is really true!!
I got my degree from
The University of Life,
Master of Science
In Trouble and Strife.
And I cruised and I boozed
Through so many happy years,
Many periods of laughter,
One or two periods of tears.
I tried so many different ways
To reach so many different ends
Always supported and surrounded
By good colleagues and friends.
Married and widowed
I lost months in despair
Until I found another and
Learned that I could still care.
The next generation, my
Grandchildren often come to play
And i watch them grow and hope
They won't do things my way.
So I seem to have arrived
At a quietly contented stage
Amazed in all honesty
To have reached this age.
Looking back now
There's very little i would change
Maybe some words unsaid
That were spoken in rage.
And now I perform,
And for better or worse
Tell my life's story
In rhyme and verse.
The University of Life
Has been such a good friend
As somehow unscathed
I've reached life's other end.
I thank you for listening,
Hope for you all life is fine
And wish for one and all that yours
Carries on as happily as mine,
Because i got my degree
From the University of Life,
I was a Master of Science
In Trouble and Strife.
A Trip Down Memory Lane
Let’s take a walk down memory lane,
Let’s go to the fifties to share those days once again.
Go to the Triangle Restaurant with your steady date,
To see all your friends cruising and staying out late.
Ride very slowly through our small town,
The twenty-five cent gas never let you down.
A cherry coke we drank with two straws,
We cruised, played our music, never worried about the laws.
Let’s go back to those good old days,
There were ball games, parties, and class plays.
The music we played never got old,
The juke box blared out those songs of gold.
We went to the drive in movie on Saturday night,
As teens our money was always very tight.
Our friends would hide in the trunk of the cars,
Then emerge and sit with us under the stars.
I want to go back to those days of yesteryear,
Where we lived among friends without fear.
To stop and have a soda at the local drug store,
Yes, it is possible for us to dream once more.
© Lynn B. Glover 2011
-- Just a bit of silliness --
"Baissez le rideau, la farce est jouee..."
---- Daumier
39 & 1/2 days had passed;
the rain had lessened.
Noah, grungy and grumpy,
paced the wet deck
like a caged Lion of Judah.
Reading the Odyssey by blubber-light,
Jonah, a free-thinker, cruised
in his whale below; he marveled,
captainishly, carefully pronouncing
the unfamiliar Greek, an uninvented
tongue he couldn't speak.
Ham, an adherent to all the dietary
restrictions, was relieved
at the journey's almost-close.
Consultation of the Holy Books
had proved he wasn't kosher
and, therefore, could not be served.
Still, Shem and Japhet eyed him oddly.
They had a lean and hungry look.
The wives, sensible lot,
cleaned the kennels, did the chores
and tried to keep an even keel
in the anachronistic mess.
They drifted onward,
tired of fishing fruitless waters,
doubtful now of being made
fishers of men.
All things considered, it was
a perfectly normal situation:
men were mystics
and women staid and sturdy workers.
And yet, Ararat, still beneath the waters,
may not have been the only futuristic
structure in this grey, flat
seascape.
I sat there in the drivers seat..
smelling that new car smell..
turning the key to my freedom,
I'm now an adult..can't you tell?
Imagining the wind rushing
through my already messy hair..
as I cruised down Route 66,
In my mind not a single care.
It seemed possibilities were endless..
just how far and how fast to go.
Hearing wheels on the pavement,
for independence I'd struck a blow.
Tomorrow would be soon enough
to think about what I'd done..
A big hole in my meager savings,
and a monthly payments begun.
For Frank's contest...
Twelve rounds of excitement
Two rivals smiling in the middle of enchantment
The bell rang...
Both fighters were wild
Two rough hands still mild
The bell rang again -- end of first round.
Second round...
Gaiting horses, eluding kicks and punches
Baiting bodies, protruding hunches
Third round...
Fighters in merry-go-round
Hide and seek on square ground
Fourth round...
Faces smearing, eyes rolling
Bodies perspiring, allies chanting
Fifth round...
Feet hovering, foot work disintegrated
Temperature rising, hard punches connected
Sixth round...
Audience clapping; boxers hitting
Attacks jabbing, gloves slugging
Seventh round...
Whacking arm follows, gloves batting
Ulnar bone gallows, heads swatting
Eighth round...
The champ fighter grinning, nailing one hard scour
Second fighter fainting, flailing above the litted floor
Ninth round...
Stronger fighter grinning again with right hook
Left hook thrashing, down the second fighter of blind look
Tenth round...
Challenger flogging, kept on rising
Challenger pelting, the champ fell on floor gasping
Eleventh round...
Both warriors pummeling, whipping, jostling
Switching, clubbing, lashing, drubbing
Both fighters fell on adulated white floor
Before the ninth count both warriors stood tall
on wrestled floor
Twelfth round...
Last two minutes of peppering round
Both fighters staggering until the challenger dropped first and gaunts.
Champ still standing, waiting for the ten counts...
Last twenty five seconds of the final round,
First fallen fighter with a bigger heart stands
Champ dropped on his knees --
Laid flat on aproned, famed canvass
Ten counts numbered as confetti lands...
The winner and challenger standing in the corner, beaten and bruised
Bleeding profusely after winning a dream never cruised.
The breeze perfectly snaked up the mountain,
Through bushes, over rocks, towards me.
I leant back, pulling my wing up, it bloated in full,
Then hovered above the trees.
I stood there, both hands working the lines,
Looking out across the empty.
And I casually stepped off the cliff, “Was there enough air?” I thought.
Yes, there was plenty.
The thermal soared me straight up, into the vast,
Below me everything became small.
I flew up so high, I was part of the sky,
My life begged this wing not to stall.
Then, all of a sudden, I popped out of the thermal,
My wing crumpled into a small nothing,
I plummeted in that momentary second, it opened again,
This wing was only bluffing.
Of course I was at the mercy of the air,
As it roared like the ocean and waves.
It took me silently over the cemetery of its victims,
An air cemetery full of its graves.
For hours I surfed, predicting the swell,
Riding breaks and soaring off the crest.
And then I cruised back to the Earth, landing on terra firma,
Feeling heaps, and way less stressed.
Paragliding was my life, for a while,
It was my source of unwind, loosen up, and relax.
What things relax you, how do you chill and compose,
Loosening up to the max?
At six foot four, and an eighth of a ton,
A gentle giant of a man, he was;
Father to three, and himself a fine son,
Devoted husband to Jean, without pause.
Phone man, painter, in ocean liners he cruised,
Accompanied by family and friends;
Sweet song in his heart, but never the blues,
Wisdom and patience, in life his clear lens.
He loved a recipe, and showing concern,
With actions, like always asking about you;
His life well balanced, his legacy earned,
Sharing his Jesus—the Gospel's Good News!
Taking time for grandkids, he humbly shared,
Both time and his money, an open book;
Bouncing upon knees, for great grands he cared,
Teaching scriptures, over breakfast he’d cooked.
Eighty-two years was his Lord’s master plan,
Fifty-eight to a soulmate, solemnly wed;
What mattered most, to this giver of men,
Was baking and breaking, life’s finest bread.
A Soldier whose honor, served us all well,
Humbly he loved, these United States;
His strong Christian faith, now clear as a bell,
His given name, you ask? Twas—Walter Yates!
(Rest in Peace Dear Friend. We miss you, sir!)