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This sad lament…
No ill intent
No wish to be
impertinent
An observation
I must make
On a sad loss
That’s hard to take
She waited so patient, by day or by night
As I scratched my head when I struggled to write
And should I produce a few lines circumspect
She’d broadcast them gladly……. As I recollect
And it wouldn’t matter the time of the day
The moon at its peak or the sun shining gay
For be it a saga or little of note
She’d always find someone to read what I wrote
She never would judge, though my language she checked
And highlight with stars where I’d need to reflect
But judgement was something I never did see
Though sometimes she would say P.O.T.D
This sad lament…
No ill intent
No wish to be
impertinent
An observation
I must make
On a sad loss
That’s hard to take
Why did she do what she did that sad day
Why did she seem like she’d drifted away
Her facelift moved features all over the place
O how I miss her familiar face
But focusing on her appearance is shallow
It wasn’t her fault I’m creatively fallow
Yet when I wrote something that lifted my zeal
I found she’d befriended folk not truly real
Did she not know of their hidden intent
Did she not notice their dishonest bent
Did she grow lonesome as each passing day
Friends who were earnest were drifting away
This sad lament…
No ill intent
No wish to be
impertinent
An observation
I must make
On a sad loss
That’s hard to take
How I recall the debates that we shared
Should it be Christmas… or war been declared
And how we would laugh till our sides became tight
Yeast extract discussed as Tom Cunningham might
I’d even compete just occasionally
And sometimes a win would be handed to me
Alas the pretenders have entered her fold
And our ‘Lady Soup’ now seems sullen and cold
And yet my fond memories that linger still
Live on in hope that she still has the skill
To look once again at the harm that was done
To reclaim true friends… while pretenders… “Do One!”
(This poem was inspired in part by John Clare's magnificent poem, "I Am"; I wrote it in the autumn of 2013, after we had discussed "I Am" in an adult class I taught. Its truth I can attest to by having experienced an NDE as a young man. In these fraught times, perhaps it will help to remember we are eternal beings traveling for a brief time in mortal vessels.)
You are,
and not as feared :
just a birthing and a dying,
nothing before, nothing after....
No, that is your body (and brain)--
but you are...forever...
without beginning, without ending,
a soul stepping briefly out of Eternity
into a fragile shell alone and lost in a world
of life and death, sunrise and sunset,
desire and regret....
Yet you forget what you truly are--
the very breath of God!
And so you blunder through
this dream-speckled life
like an orphaned child
hungering for home....
It took on a life of its own,
the writing.
Wanting a voice to speak
of the way it had been,
was and would be,
all the yesterdays,
the now and tomorrow.
Like nature,
like god eternal.
A voice so powerful
the world would listen
and talk of this writing.
The sublime craft of it
discussed by all
who knew such things.
But, in the end,
no one read that he was dead,
the writing ended,
the voice stilled
in a forever place ... and fame,
that fleeting human need ... ?
Words remembered, written on a page
with a life of their own, its all
the lasting fame ever known.
The velvet sky was strangely quiet...
The Earth still and hushed beneath my feet.
No mountains groaned, no crumbling stone
Giving voice to my defeat.
The lake... calm and placid like mirrored glass...
Not a ripple to be seen.
Two loons at play had flown away
Leaving a tranquil pastoral scene.
Birds would sing to mark this day
As beasts roamed throughout the land.
I was not impressed and most distressed...
Nature's laws seemed well in hand.
The morning scented with a familiar air as
Meadow flowers made good their vivid fashion
But in my grief, there was a unyielding belief...
Nature should be gripped with far more passion.
I wanted Earthly reprisals and thunderbolts
To lash out their.. mournful roar.
I wanted winds to squall and towered trees to fall
And huge white capped waves to lap their shores.
I wanted the land to wither and blow away
Where wilted crops grow stunted for the year.
Where the force above... feels a desperate shove
And an unplumbed chasm then appears.
But then again... on further musing,
Such sights would not honor her at all.
We had oft discussed... there be no fuss
When she answered Heaven's call.
No trumpets roared or melodic lyres blurred
As a callous Nature missed that special day...
But Church bells rang and sweet Angelic voices sang...
When my dear Mother passed away.
The End
Sir Homophone came to meet the maid that somehow stayed so slim.
Her feat was to stay chaste to him and yet by his feet be chased by him.
She had recently lost some weight by refusing to partake in evening sup.
It seemed the more that she pared down the more likely to be paired up.
All night the weak maid prayed so meekly for the Knight that she sees.
But the Knight preyed to be made thrice weekly and she at night to seize.
She hoped he would meet and see her and then choose to wed,
But it was the supper meat that saw the sear that he chews instead.
She sewed her dress then pared the wood and the holy altar made,
He sowed distress when he prepared his wood to wholly alter the maid.
“Maid please tend to me now you’ve said you weekly have sordid sex.”
“Knight please you misunderstand I said I weakly have sorted sox.”
She begged, “Please be discreet with what it is that we’ve discussed.”
He shrugged, “You are awfully discrete in what it is that you disgust.”
But love conspired to steal, his heart soared and they were off to wed,
Then lust transpired to steel his hard sword and they were off to bed.
He was happy because of her sighs and she was happy because of his.
This concludes my good Knight tale and all of this good night tail biz.
You read it didn’t you? Shame on you, I had to read it because I wrote it
but you had a choice. Benny Hill would be so proud.
Harvey the Hippo
Harvey is a huge hippopotamus
Who bathes in a bay that is bottomless
HIs mouth is as large as a riverboat barge
And he weighs ten times more than a lot of us
Big Harvey isn’t nasty or troublesome
Nor like other guys who are double dumb
He just wanders around stomping the ground
Looking for pieces of bubble gum
Harvey owns a fine yellow cummerbund
And sewn on the back is the number one
He wears it right proudly and bellows quite loudly
While playing outside in the summer sun
Once Harvey met up with a crocodile
Together they decided to walk a mile
Near the shore they strolled, but the water got cold
So they sat down to talk on the dock a while
Eating Oreo cookies about four apiece
They talked about matters of war and peace
They discussed the economy, art, and astronomy
And the huge immigration of foreign geese
Then walking back toward his new shiny house
Harvey stopped for a chat with a tiny mouse
Her name was Du Barry; they decided to marry
And soon come a baby named Stanislaus
A handsome young child was Stanislaus
Dressed up in his fine silken Spanish blouse
They all had made history; this was no mystery
For Stan was the first Hippopotamouse
Huge Harvey adored his sweet ladylove
From her wee little feet to her head above
He brought her some strings and other fine things
Including a snowy white turtledove
Harvey has grown really mellow now
He seldom produces a bellow now
But if you’re down by the bay, you can still see him play
This wondrous and gentle old fellow now
It"s ten to one in the morning.
i"m lying in my bed.
I have so many men to kill
there buzzing round my head.
My thumb is sore and aches
and hurts each time i press,
but i got to kill those suckers
i"ll teach them not to mess.
The bedroom door bursts open.
My Mother storms inside.
I quickly pull up covers
and vainly try to hide.
What the hell is this?
Don"t you know the time?
Her voice explodes in fire
I mumble humble fine.
The room decends in darkness
silence reigns supreme.
I"m grounded for tomorrow
my Mother she is mean.
The next day at the table
my behaviour is discussed.
My Father nods his head
and says i am the worst.
A whole day without gameing
God my lifes the pits.
I"m sure i"ll die of boredom
I bet I get the yips.
But soon the day is over
it"s midnight in my room
I can"t resist temptation
to pick up and resume.
I switch on my Playstation.
and put it all on mute.
My Mum will never know.
I think i"m pretty cute.
But what the hell is this
i"ve been taken for a mug.
that bloody devious Mother.
she"s taken off the PLUG!
Jan and Darren joined the poetry soup site
Worked on our own poems in our own right
Started to collaborate on works together
Hope this happy union lasts forever and ever
When we joined soup they put out the 'welcome mat'
Lovely comments from PD, Anne Lise and also SKAT
Encouraging new writers is their wonderful gift
Joining poetry soup gives our hearts a lift
Being on the site we have found a lot of fun
In our poems together I’ve just become a mum
Darren is a perfect ‘husband’ and is a doting dad
He always makes me smile but his jokes are often bad
Friendship has blossomed, we've shared laughter and tears
Talked of what the future may hold and our worries and fears
We've discussed our youth and the things we did back then
So little we would change if we could live our lives again
Jan is very happily married, her lovely son is grown
Darren is deliriously happy building a life of his own
The beauty of soup is the welcome they give
Encouraging friendships that last as long as we live.
When we joined soup they put out the welcome mat
Lovely comments from PD, Anne Lise and SKAT
Encouraging new writers is their wonderful gift
Joining poetry soup has given our hearts a lift
Writing with others adds a new and rare poem quality
My collaboration with Jan means the whole world to me
We have intuition, though that may sound absurd
Sometimes I know what she'll say before she's written a word .
We have our page on which we write but love writing as a team
Creating something that might make us giggle or share a sweet dream
You'll find us on Jadazzle out there hoping to make friends
Writing poems we hope you find easy to comprehend .
When we joined soup they put out the welcome mat
Lovely comments from PD, Anne Lise and SKAT
Encouraging new writers is their wonderful gift
Joining poetry soup has given our hearts a lift
12th June 2014
Written By Jan Allison and Darren Watson
Written For Dave Woods Contest
~The Contest of my Dreams~
This now, is who I truly am
as my pen takes liberty.
What now, I write is where I ‘ve been
so much there for all to see.
Good and bad, the in-betweens,
the road walked down through the years,
a panoramic display of scenes
from sunshine highs to darkened tears.
But I am not so unlike you,
you who would glance across this write.
The road you’ve walked that I never knew;
are similar roads not brought to light ?
Know me by the writes you read
and I’ll do the same for you.
Writing is our consuming need
as to ourselves we must stay true.
***Debra Guzzi,
I was mindful of the syllable count in each line
as we’ve discussed in the past, but I had to let my heart go on this one.
(No reflection on your great teaching ability!!)
Some people like to say that I am crazy
to think our sovereignty we’ll one day lose;
to think all countries under one umbrella
would ever be discussed or make the news!
But if you pay attention, you can hear
world leaders saying things I find absurd.
They’re going to “build back better” everything.
A notion crazier I’ve never heard.
They can’t build better governments or cities.
There’s nothing they’ve done better yet at all!
The progress made in health or crime prevention
is getting worse - their progress is so small.
This New World Order’s nothing but a joke -
a joke on all the world, and those now free
will realize how much they’ve lost at last
once all have bowed down to technology.
If patriots can't win, our freedom’s GONE.
The puppet masters do not care one bit
for you and me. The evil filthy rich
desire a world with most of us not IN it.
I’m teased for things that some folks disbelieve -
like Revelations or Illuminati,
but there are wicked beasts behind the curtain,
and New World Order’s OZ won’t be so pretty.
The banks sit high atop the pyramid.
We’re underlings that world elitists hate.
Folks hypnotized by lies of media
are unbelievers I cannot debate.
The proof of what I say is all around
in statues, number six and signs they give
to one another, and right out in open!
One day with chips inside us we will live.
The beast’s own mark is coming. This I know.
To live, we’ll need it on our head or hand.
How easily they’ve got to us already.
God help us! New World Order won’t be grand.
April 20, 2022
For Robert James Liguori's New World Order Poetry Contest
Love multiplied, your first crying sound
Eyes opening to the world around
To gaze at your newborn face, the sensation
That of peering down the generations
In our lineage, conditions to fear
Now more worried, each passing year
Giving up, choices breaking trust
Girlhood dreams begin to combust
Officer, with whom we discussed
Young womanhood beginning wrongly
Fell temptations pull you away
Although it pains all of us, strongly
For now, with others you must stay
Cherry blossom sun
Broadest smile, to me you run
Vigorous hug, love
4/12/16
For Contest: Letting Go, Three Form Style
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Battle of the Sexes
A Collaboration Between: Pandita Sanchez and Eric L. Boddie
As beautiful and smart as you are,
you always seem to take it too far.
I know some of it is just;
but there is still so much that never needed to be discussed.
It could be that you too often misunderstand me,
overcomplicating and seeing life differently.
They say men are from Mars and women from Venus,
so things will never be simplified between us.
Tell me, what am I to think -
I mean, your mood changes within a blink;
so much emotion can sometimes get in the way,
you like pushing buttons - what's that shade of gray?
One minute you say that I’m too emotional;
then when I prove to be your equal, you call me irrational.
Is it just that I’m way too much woman for you?
And, perhaps, you really don’t have a clue?
There you go again thinking you are all that;
that's the reason we are always off track.
I love everything about you, but I tire of the stress;
and I can't calm you down unless I get you undressed.
See that's exactly what I'm talking about -
resorting to caveman tactics makes you believe you have clout;
but you're no longer a boy, so you should know better, Boo,
you're wearing me out with your commitment issue.
You see, I just can't ever win.
So don't stand there trying to pretend
like you are faultless in all of this;
but the blame always hits me - it has never missed.
While I admit that I’m not totally blameless,
I’ve been the one who‘s always willing to do more while you do less.
In fact, like Rodin’s ‘Thinker’ you just brood over our problems;
but I’m the mover and shaker who actually tries to solve them.
You know what? I am done with all this…
I mean, you know I am addicted to your sweet kiss
which, consequently, makes arguments hard to resist,
all because there is not a feature about you I want to miss.
So please just let me say -
the indifferences need to end, and let's start anew today.
Well we don’t need to be arguing all the time sinking into quicksand,
if like two adults, we address concerns before they get out of hand.
But in spite of what our differences may be,
I know we love each other to the nth degree;
and in the end, we know we’re worth it, and we’ll see,
man and woman, we can work it out together, Baby, you and me.
In this year 2016 the 1st week in August, I had occasion to speak with a Christian headmaster, the spiritual aspect dominated the conversation, I expounded many
things 'that I believe only the Lord had put in my consciousness.' my understanding of the force and the 'reason' ( if that's the best description?) behind the Dunblane shootings contained in the earlier poem was one of the subjects discussed, obviously the person being a headmaster would have
aroused my memory, so much so ;I raised the question as to whether there were any former students of the school showing promise in life, and if so a positive approach to help them may be a good thing, the headmaster replied he had links 'i believe with the school, or if not with someone, who would be able to contact former pupils, as I write the headmaster is still on holiday which was about to commence a day or two from the time of our conversation,anyway instead of just waiting for the headmaster to act after a few days passed I put this search into a computer myself..' ( people doing well in life after being in Dunblane school shooting ) Andrew Murray's name appeared, It was a strange feeling to realise that among others he was who I was praying for.' I also realised he had just led out team G B..' Therefore It seems to me God is already moving him into position, this leads me by what I know of the events in his life and God, to say that he should be moved even further, into the position of leader of the U K.' It would be a change from a career
politician, and I believe would raise the stature of the Nation.'
Oh boy, she was gorgeous and I made mention of bed
She said she really liked me but she won’t until we’re wed
She often said there’s stuff that really ought to be discussed
But I could only think of getting hitched to quench my lust
We did it, we were spouses, and our first dance was real close
I thought that she would realise who wanted who the most
We left our guests to party and I hoped I would impress
And once we were alone I ripped apart her wedding dress
And that was when I wished that we had dallied before marriage
For there and then I found ‘her’ quite extensive undercarriage
‘She’ said, “Why don’t you try it out, I’m sure we will be fine.”
I said, “Why would I play with yours… when I could play with mine?”
Well, ‘she’ looked shocked and what she said caused all my toes to curl
‘She’ looked at me and muttered, “Oh! I thought you were a girl.”
I said, “Are you quite bonkers for you’re talking really weird,
I’m stood here and I’ve got a most extensive ginger beard!”
‘She’ sauntered to the bed and threw me down upon my back
And said, “I’ve got a gift for you and it is never slack.”
‘She’ nipped into the bathroom saying, “You can be the wife.”
‘She’ came back with a sexy smile… and a massive knife!
I took a walk with my best friend,
just the other night.
We expressed our different points of view
on things we thought weren't right.
We discussed a lot of problems.
Our opinions very strong,
in regard to indiscretions
and other things we felt were wrong.
We agreed that there were challenges
that we must overcome.
We're often faced with stumbling blocks
that could leave us feeling numb.
Sometimes if there's an obstacle
that we must rise above,
it could become a stepping stone
if we trust in faith and love!
We know anger doesn't solve a thing.
Stress can drag you down.
But love can open up the door
and faith and hope can bring you round.
Many things can cause duress
and make you feel some pain.
When you hit rock bottom,
love can bring you back again.
So here's what we concluded,
my best friend and I.
Although we're in our Golden years
and life has passed us by!
You younger folks, when times get hard,
the inspiration that you need,
will come from faith, and hope, and love,
which will help you to succeed!
By: Ralph Taylor