Best Cruse Poems
Farewell, au revoir, goodbye, convivial summer.
The day is late now, and the breeze is warmer.
A vacant ocean-side barricaded motel.
Wild geese are soon flying in lines as well.
Vacation homes drop their literate barricades.
This rich sweeping green tone will soon fade.
In this season, buds and fruits are abundant.
Melons and garden load are ardent.
Tanned skin, sailboats, and folded linen suits.
When the world is more positive than disputes,
Pollen irritates the sinuses of sensitive patients.
Now they've fled to the farm, the coast nascent.
Stop their passing endeavor at escape.
The Ferris wheel in LEGOLAND is agape.
The Cape no longer trades in quirkiness.
A glum family descends from the murkiness.
To welcome their offspring back from camp.
Mature year, scarlet maple boughs, raised scamp.
Sunburned shoulders disappear at summer's end.
Goodbye to the peasant's headband.
Goodbye storms and dirty white shoes.
Goodbye summer friends, pants, shorts, and cruse.
Farewell, tennis peculiar desire to be difficult.
Farewell picnics, ice tea, and plane trips, munificent.
Written: August 19, 2022
feral lotus focus
ferocious locus
hocus pocus proportions
bogus contortions
notions that are hopeless
clueless and helpless caution
careful not to touch my foolish Johnson
useless toothless rush of jarring jargon
ill gotten fruit rotten loot bargains
a fierce farce thrilling scar gardens
watered by the crying moon's nightly opus
meaty power ball bonus
eat on the hour in small doses
are you enjoying
the coldness of the soulless
the boldness of the boneless
fried chicken
rhymes fresh out the prison kitchen
master plans schemes to elude the system
hidden lyrical lemon lime missions
building beautiful babbling creations
my cruse
my sickness with no nurse
my fascination of profound
powerful philosophical verbalization
who dare demands demonstration
a little literary illuminating illustrations
painting marvelous monstrous
conscious concentrations
fainting over lust bitter kiss
patience to con a sin to fruition
too late the apple has been bitten
I was going through the year feeling just fine, while writing my rhymes. Not a worry not a care, nothing to bear. Then here comes spring such a wonderful thing, didn't have an idea of what it would bring. I believed, it would be outstanding. I didn't know it would be so demanding.
I though, through this year I would cruse but instead I was singing the blues because I couldn't see what was ahead of me. One thing happened then another, I had to look for cover. So I started to look for advice, in the same place, can lighting strike twice? Something's trying to put me down, I mean, down for the count.
But I keep getting a strong feeling that says, you have to get back in the mount. Grab the horse by the reins, don't let it put you to shame and it can also drive you insane. So to The Lord I prayed, or down I would have stayed, Yes I would, but GOD IS GOOD.
Now have you ever tried something with all your heart but you kept coming up short. You try and you try it wont come out right, even though you try with all your might and you don't want anyone to see that you're uptight. So you walk around with a false grin because you want to feel exalted among men.
Deeper and deeper you start to sink, you pick up a smell, it's your life and it stink.
But you hold your head up to show your're grown, you got backbone and you can't let anyone see that you feel so alone, so you walk around lost, like the rest of the clones.
Then you listen to people from every place, but everything you try slaps you hard, right in the face. Now I am writing this because it come to me and these things I have been through, it got to the point where I prayed, Lord I really need you. I was at the end of my rope in total despair, I though it couldn't get any worse and up jumped a Grizzly Bear. That should have been all she wrote, Yes it should.
GOD IS GOOD.
*MilMan*
Space is final frontier
Like through ocean in age of sail
Spaceships cruse through space
Of course some dangers they also face
Math is fundamental to everything
Whoever possesses most of knowledge is a king
But math that we don’t know exists in abstract
And there is really no end to depth of its impact
One would not be incorrect to say
That in any day
Math and reality are only remotely connected
But that is to be expected
Everything that exists can be counted by math
But far beyond that grows math
True limit of math is beyond abstract
And there is no end to its true impact
If to math something would be
What to steam engine is spaceship that in dreams we see
The person who understands it would be
Able to do much more than live indefinitely
Could it be that im crazy in love?
Are you what my dreams are made of?
Ive fallen into you head first.
With one simple kiss you broke my cruse.
From this day forward ill never leave your side.
This life is to short my love for you will never die.
Ill always stand up for you even when I know your wrong.
Cause in each others hearts is where we belong.
This babe I can honestly swear.
No matter where this world takes us ill always be there.
All my dreams have came true.
Just simply because I got to meet you.
Your my very own angel that came from above.
Im forever great full cause you never gave up our love.
Ill be your angel even tho my halo is covered in rust.
I will be patiently waiting cause your love I forever trust.
I give you all my heart and soul.
Its only when were together I truly feel whole.
You have never gave up on me.
Im sorry it took me so long to see.
I don't no how ill ever repay this.
Ill start every morning with a smile and a kiss.
Ill end every last night
Known I loved you with all my might.
I love you more today then I did yesterday.
I love you more then any words can possibly say.
I wrote these words while you were asleep last night.
For once in my life loving seems so right.
Ive got to thank you cause I don't no what you see.
How could someone like you possibly love me?
hey pete
by Michael R. Burch
hey pete,
it's baseball season
and the sun ascends the sky,
encouraging a schoolboy's dreams
of winter whizzing by;
go out, go out and catch it,
put it in a jar,
set it on a shelf
and then you'll be a Superstar.
When I was a boy, Pete Rose was my favorite baseball player; this poem is not a slam at him, but rather an ironic jab at the term "superstar." Keywords/Tags: Baseball, Season, Boy, Schoolboy, Schoolchild, Student, Scholar, Winter, Spring, Sun, Catch, Star, Superstar, Jar, Pete Rose, Reds, Cincinnati, Big Red Machine, America, Fantasy, Humor, Hyperbole, Irony, Sports
Unlikely Mike
by Michael R. Burch
I married someone else’s fantasy;
she admired me despite my mutilations.
I loved her for her heart’s sake, and for mine.
I hid my face and changed its connotations.
And in the dark I danced—slight, Chaplinesque—
a metaphor myself. How could they know,
the undiscerning ones, that in the glow
of spotlights, sometimes love becomes burlesque?
Disfigured to my soul, I could not lose
or choose or name myself; I came to be
another of life’s odd dichotomies,
like Dickey’s Sheep Boy, Pan, or David Cruse:
as pale, as enigmatic. White, or black?
My color was a song, a changing track.
Freudiana
Famous poet Barclay Cruse
curent toast of New York salons
wears tinted glasses and Italian shoes
and composes doggerel for subway johns.
Acclaimed a purist by his colleagues
hard-edge painter Geoffrey Pyle
earned during Summers spent at Antibes
covert commissions from Armstrong Tile.
Junk sculptor Cranston Bold
collects mufflers and I'm told
often edits his creations
to fix his Chevy station wagon.
Cordell composes way-out music
quartets for flute and flushing toilets.
His father was a music critic
and caned him with his clarinet.
What was the crown of thorns fore ?
Why was it hammered to Jesus’ brow ?
Like forcing a nail through a piece of wood.
Was it a badge of mockery toward the Jewish leaders?
Fore pressing Pilate to crucify a man he proclaimed to fine no fault there in.
What was the crown of thorns fore ?
Was the crown of thorns Mother Nature’s representative ?
For she needed to be redeemed from the cruse of sin.
Redeemed from suffering under the Agents of Darkness ,Devour,Destruction,Decay.
Just as the first man Adam through the act of disobedience ,sold Mother Nature into slavery.
To The ownership of The Archangel of deception,insurrection, and Devourer of Souls.
Mother Nature Was purchased out of slavery by God,and she will be set free from the presence and power of the Prince Of The Power Of The Air.
Fore the purchase price to set Mother nature free ,
was for the sinless Son Of Man,The Son Of God,to wear the Crown of thorn on His brow.
while out of perfect obedience to the Father ,
He was offering his life on the cross as a ransom to purchase sinful man back to God.
This is why Jesus wore The crown of thorns .
.
Written By Stephen J. Vattimo Sept 30 2012
There is a great epidemic
sweeping across the land,
that convinces foolish minds
they are bold and grand,
convinces them mere existence
makes them legendary,
I’m talking now about the cruse
of unearned self-esteem.
You see it in the young folk,
most still under twenty-five,
taught all their life they’re special,
Into this line they buy,
proclaiming their own greatness
by texting friends endlessly,
call them out, they take offense
thanks to unearned self-esteem.
Then there are those women
who think their lady-parts
make them special people
with no stink to their farts.
But being one of every two
is nothing noteworthy,
no different from those before,
save for unearned self-esteem.
And who can forget those people
who say it’s about tint,
who demand special treatment
because of their pigment,
those who say your life is just
criss-crossed ‘identities,’
skin-color is not an accomplishment,
ditch the unearned self-esteem.
The worst of the infected
are the terminal PC-crowd,
the group-think of raw emotion
trumpeted out loud,
convinced that they’re enlightened
while mouthing malarkey,
they’d rule us with with an iron fist,
blame the unearned self-esteem.
Real esteem is something earned
by facing weighty truths,
it’s built up as you navigate
the ravages of youth.
It cares not for fame or fortune,
its end is competency,
when you master the task at hand
you’re then worthy of esteem.
It’s not some trendy label,
or a group you are within,
real esteem is built up slowly,
from win stacked upon win.
And when your self is mastered,
it’s plain for all to see,
you’ll have no need for illusion,
you’ll have earned real self-esteem.
Tired of frolic
and the beaming sun,
the snow and ice retreat;
returning the pond nation
to its peaceful co-existence.
Toads once again sit
majestically upon their naked
rock thrones—no lily pads here.
A lone insect glides by
and is slap from the sky
by the welcoming frog’s tongue.
The ducks again cruse
the soothing wet water
dousing heads to catch prey
or douche long neglected feathers.
Suddenly, a rock skips across the pond.
Ducks frantically populate the sky.
As if a magic act of nature,
all other creatures disappear.
In the quietness of this canvassed scene,
ripples concentrically spread across the pond—
Shattered reflected rays, scattered dancing shadows.
Silently, we drove onward.
Indeed, nature’s mercy
has strange laws.
https://allpoetry.com/poem/13105586-The-Pond-by-millard-lowe
Oceans apart
In a sea of love
Are these battered hearts
Plummeting into a deep blue dive
In my mind’s eye..
Project your instagram
Through tears I cry
Your living hologram
And now..
Your thoughts are with me
And I drown
In memories of who we used to be
I’ve become..
As crescent moon calendar’s
And passion’s succumb
To unrequited love’s surrender
Heart to heart talk
Not beating as one, no words can say..
Why love took
Your heart so far away
My heart stops
As my mind meanders
Through rivers of teardrops
To a love I cannot suddenly remember
And I drift
Endlessly to obscurity
To our love on the rocks
Coast to coast and under the sea
Impulses on currents
Tumultuous winds like a curse
Shocks of bad memories so torrent
Have sunk our cruse
Oceans apart
In a sea of love
Are these battered hearts
Plummeting into a deep blue dive
In my mind’s eye..
Project your instagram
Through tears I cry
Your living hologram
Bon voyage sailor
With so many fish in the sea
The world is circular
And someday you’ll return, if it’s truly meant to be
08-27-2015
i like the way you do girl,
Like your moves and your thing,
I’m taken to your way,
It breaks me, makes me sing.
You are my height,
With you, I’m might,
We are in sight,
Of love’s hot kite.
We can cruse right to sigon,
Fly on wings of pardon,
And we can cry right on,
With the night’s condition.
You are my height,
With you, I’m might,
We are in sight,
Of love’s hot kite.
Your legs right in your tight jeans,
Beckon my hand to touch,
Right around that stalwart,
Where there is warmth so much.
You are my height,
With you, I’m might,
We are in sight,
Of love’s hot kite.
My darlin’, my pride and truth,
You are my destiny,
Let us be the downfall,
Of ingenuity.
You are my height,
With you, I’m might,
We are in sight,
Of love’s hot kite.
A bottle held loosely in her palm,
she's so tried from partying all night long.
Her "friends" wrote cruse words on her face.
Behind her lips is the vodka's after taste.
Around her on the floor are red plastic cups.
Behind her someone lays in throw up.
In the morning the party isn't as cool.
There's a mess everywhere and underwear in the pool.
When the ambulance takes your drunken friends away.
Almost in a second your buzz goes away.
And the Smirnoff that buried her down six feet;
all the sudden doesn't taste as sweet.
Now the party-goers all mourn in black
knowing they'll never get the best binge drinker back.
rain flows from heaven
sufficing all barren fields
creation lives on.
*1Kings 17:14 For thus saith the LORD God of Israel, The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail, until the day that the LORD sendeth rain upon the earth.
November 20, 2018
Edited on September 3, 2021
2nd place, "Favorite Nature Haiku" Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 9/3/2021.
The hustle of the
Khyber pass
Dusty
Dirty
Traffic chaotic
Pori’s border
Like the ground
Soaking up my foot prints
We move beyond
The bus is silent
In this barren landscape
I look upon the discarded
Shells of war
Interesting
I identify shells
From many wars
Like a walk
Along a beach
After a storm
An high tide
But the storm
Still thundering
The vision scape
Has pockets of green
So many gums
I could be back
In Oz
A brief stop
Jalalabad
The men Decant
I stay
Watching
Looking
Out the dusty window
Engrossed in what I see
The woman and children
All start talking and laughing
At once
The sudden noise
Makes me Jump
I look around
But all I see are ghosts
But free
The influence
Of men
The men return
So does the silence
We move on
We pass a check point
Then stop
Beside a green river
I sit on the bank
Smoke some hash
With old Coco
He looks just like
The old cameleers
From the pioneers
We can’t converse
But I feel
A gentle heart
War tired eyes
Mountains loom
Around us
We are about to make
The push up
To Kabul
We join a convoy
Of trucks
So many trucks
All going up
And up
And up
Never been on such
A huge mountain
And such a narrow
Road
I look down on the
Shells of trucks
That didn’t make it
Up or down
Horns blare
Dust stings my eyes
But I want to see
If I am
About to die
We plateau
And loose the convoy
Cruse toward Kabul
We stop at the
Biggest refugee camp
The atmosphere is
Stressful
Angry
Suffocating
Claustrophobic
Like a humid
Wet season day
I can’t wait to leave
Continue we do
The end is here
The infamous
Soccer stadium
Blocks an blocks
Of rubble
The end
Of the road
To Kabul