Best Down The Middle Poems
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL
My childhood spent without peers
alone and prey to my fears.
Nights spent face buried in my pillow
my emotions like a weeping willow.
The school kid disliked and attacked
like a player continuously sacked.
Bruises and scars physical,
cuts deep and salted, emotional.
Not a friend not even one
or an adult there to help - none.
You look to the skies for relief
but lessons taught come with grief.
Our life books come prewritten
set in stone, can't be rewritten.
Loneliness moves in, year after year
without choice you hide behind a veneer.
You give up on living
focus on just existing.
Sorry, I have to stop here. This story now transcends
rhyming, calls for a voice free just to speak.
Loneliness has many faces.
I imagine one of the most intense state of loneliness
is losing a loved one.
A planet of three billion would feel empty.
I have witnessed my mothers chagrin after
losing my father.
Happy partners a lifetime long and suddenly
she is one of two.
You do the math.
They were two who became one.
Now she is alone cut down the middle
add her pain and she is barely half.
There is no crowd that could fill her void.
There is no amount of family love
that could fill the hole in her heart.
My pain was different. I just had a wish to belong,
to have one friend, one love, or just to have a hand to hold.
When you're abandoned, ridiculed, and disliked
by everyone even by people who don't even
know you, you have no choice but to hide.
My loneliness turned me into a critter
that could curl up into a small ball.
Still I had hope.
I wished someone could love me.
Love me for my gentle ways,
my giving nature and my open arms.
18~11~2014
Sponsor: frank herrera
Contest Name: FACES OF LONELINESS
WRITE ABOUT LONLINESS FROM YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE....MUST BE AUTO BIOGRAPHICAL.
Standing looking across sweeping thoughts and hopes
alone crying into distant faraway hills and valleys
dreaming I saw before me a big white puff of smoke
Drifting low circling from out of chimneys pots high
slowly moving creeps inner vision dancing with me
candy floss happily towards the glen sweet aroma scent
Scenting turf fires the nostrils with wild scent upon air as
a sun melting her warm fingers into one's back soothing
pure in a baby blue clear sky setting, rising high feelings
Upon a cool caressing Autumn breeze Mother Nature
arrives with songbirds singing sweet clearly with echoes
and most beautiful tunes carried ever so gently in the air
Within a quite stillness silently whispers gasp and cry
splitting down the middle a teardrop falls always slowly
in love with this forever dream, and to the end sighs
Standing on the edge of a pretty crystal cool blue pond
while watching the presence of beautiful fairy elves
and their most wonderful laughs and smiles so ever true
Smelling the wonderful aroma of pure mountain air
with that assured feeling the all is fresh, crisp, real
and flowers, plants, and grass talking to one another
Dreaming many perfect dreams of mermaids sitting
grouped in a green water pool at the waterfall’s edge
and sensing their joy, beauty, laughter, and smiles
This is what dreams are made of as we sense and see
most wondrous things and objects of perfect symmetry
as we feel mountain rain and a most delicious soft wind
Mother Nature and her magical world of treasures and
such beauty indeed make all gods of centuries past and
present stand up and applaud graciously our Dreaming One
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 20, 2014)
(Terza Rima in Unrhymed Tercet poetic format)
What do you do with a fried lemon sandwich
when lavender leaves have messed up its hair
How to you cut it in two equal pieces
while no one is home and you don’t like to share
Why is it sitting alone at the counter
as saucers of milk perform on the stage
Where is the flavor when bland is in fashion
and comic books sing on the very next page
Will you surrender to appetites chanting,
crossing the line where the pickets are white
Shoveling corn flakes when it is not snowing,
flying a kernel instead of a kite
Serving a side that is right down the middle,
leftover vegetables mashed into paste
Like a potato but not very filling,
smothered in ketchup to drown out the taste
Do you like tablecloths made out of vinyl,
just like a record but square when they play
Nothing to spin when you can’t find a needle,
looking through stacks that are covered in hay
Cook books too heavy to fit in your diet,
checking your math while subtracting a pound
Running in place when you’d rather be singing,
wishing the dining room table was round
Can you believe that a poet would write this,
watching a hummingbird outside his door
Smiling from one ear but not to the other
feeling the pinch when his cheeks are too sore
Maybe his mind is a field of distraction
perhaps it is someone that he’s thinking of
It’s a safe bet amid all this confusion
the poet who wrote this has fallen in love
Please, Please, Please proceed to exit left stage,
Or at least make this battle worth my time.
Every word, forming every rhyme,
Tells me that your "thoughts" belong in a cage.
Draw a line down the middle of the page,
Explaining on one side all of your crimes.
Scrub your pallet clean, removing the grime,
To earn all that "COMPLIMENTARY" wage.
Reach around the other side of that line,
Or proceed to make this list in your head.
You should list slams that are as good as mine,
Even if you repeat each word I said.
Really, you should just read the warning signs,
Since your career is just as good as dead.
As a child
I sat beneath my grandmother’s table
And listened to the stories and whispers
Of all who gathered 'round
If mom was in a really good mood
A cover could go over and make it into
The most exciting of hideaways
As I got older my friends would gather 'round
To watch me blow the candles from a birthday cake
The streamers, the noisy horns
The spills dripping down the middle
It became the place of games
Cards and much fun
And sometimes a wee bit too much competition
But always
Laughter and friends
It’s the place the women stay
And discuss everyone, everything
After dinner and football is on
It’s the office
Mail in stacks waiting to be dealt with
The weekly writing of checks
It’s the place my children have gathered
To pound play dough
Stir brownies
Carve pumpkins
Do homework
Paint masterpieces
And blow out their own candles
O Most beautiful of places
like a whisper
read me ...if you read me...in hushed tones
"Lace and fineness"
not for me
Sweet salty sea and a sand colored shore
the lines are long ...slender ... smooth ...an ever horizon upon which I rise
the hills and valleys are silken paleness sheened by light
a channel runs down the middle
to a small perfect fount
into which I dip my spirit and am purified
baptized...cleansed of all earthly things
I rest ...but for a moment
for there is a mysterious forest beyond
plush... warm and verdant
and beyond that... lies the source of all evil ...and good
I am Eve
I am the garden...
and you are my soul's seed ...the forbidden apple that awakens
I am the ocean
...come to rock me
you turn me from stone to ice...from ice to rain...from rain to river...from river to sea...from sea to light...from light to dark...from dark
to illuminati
that I may forever rise and rise again upon your perfect pale shore
and come to understand...the true value of all things
here is the house we grow up in;
down the road, there is the house we grow old in.
somewhere down the road, split right down the middle, is everything in between.
in this thousand acre town, there’s not much to know besides the way the grass rubs against our palms while we try to break our falls, or the way the concrete seems to have the same amount of cracks, every time we count.
i found you in this town, three streets up, like you never meant to be far, to be hiding.
i met you in the grass, dewy but ever so sweet.
i met you with a chip in your tooth, dull but ever so sharp.
i met you, loud but never quiet.
this town gave us fireflies in jars instead of train horns and city sidewalks;
gave us nights stargazing in your backyard instead of flashing lights in the middle of the street.
this town was our match in a city-wide power outage, and we wouldn’t blow out the light for a second.
this town made us, but it also saved us.
What is the point? Asked Mrs. Snooty.
The point is I could not make up my mind when we
were building, so I said put all three in.
We are not talking light switches.
We are talking light fixtures, and they are
gorgeous. I love them.
Not in the middle like most small eight by eight
rooms, but marching down the middle of the ceiling
in a proud line.
The point is, I like it this way, and it is my house.
I love color, and they are all colorful.
How did I raise someone this prissy?
I wonder to myself.
I knew a girl who lost all she had
Leaving her lonely, lost, and terribly sad
Having no one to talk to and no one to call
She fell in love with the blade releasing it all
She found peace in the pain that came with each cut
Behind her bedroom door, always securly locked and shut
The sight of the blood left her satisfied time after time
But she found that just one wasn't enough to clear her mind
She cut more and more each time hiding the scars
For fear of a padded room, surrounded by bars
So finally she thought why not end it all
Sitting in her room she planned her last letters and calls
She wrote of her sorrows and how she couldn't let go
And how sorry tonight she was giving her soul
Then she ran the bath water and locked all the doors
Knowing that she wouldn't see tommorrow or feel the pain anymore
Then she climbed into the tub and grabbed that faithful blade
That she'd grown to love and find refuge in each day
As she cut down the middle of each wrist on each arm
Not thinking that this would cause anyone else any hurt or alarm
As she began to bleed she became weary and weak
Fearing that maybe this shouldn't have been her release
But it was to late to turn back the damage was done
For her love with the blade had left ehr to far gone
As she began to slip she began to weep
Wishing to finally sleep into an eternal sleep
As she finally slipped away the blade fell to her side
Leaving a cold reality that the love of her blade left ehr to die
So now as I sit I think back to her
And her beautiful life now jsut a blur
That blade that she'd loved had pushed her so hard
That her ivory arms weren't all that were scarred
Looking back,
Some weeds down the middle of the road
Footprints to one side or the other, few sideroads
I’ve Traveled far with little or no direction, yet always
Managed to lean toward logical wisdom
Found birds chirping and clouds dark threats few
I did not mind the rain nor the delightful rainbows
Was Never struck by lightning, nor folks reaction to my thoughts
I’ll be coming over the horizon an old man, remembering yesterday
Looking back, I can’t remember the weeds but remain sure-
What was just down the middle of the road……always ended up,
Tomorrow.
Thumb screws its way walking a straight line down the middle of the road hitching a ride on a new page no road kill here life’s a breeze surfing open minds along the torturous wake with all the sweet things
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Shuggie Otis
You are the batter,
Shaking in your cleats,
Scared of what may come,
So scared you may flee.
The pitcher stands there noble,
Strong and steady,
His pitch is fast,
And you are not so ready.
The pitch is down the middle,
Right where you like,
But something comes over you,
Like the darkest of the nights.
SWING!
And you miss,
Satan got in you,
And gave you a kiss.
You walk back to the dugout,
And begin to weep,
You let your father down,
But then you leap!
You hop right back up,
Your at-bat again,
You get another shot,
This time Satan must not get in!
You pray to God,
Asking for Satan to be gone,
You dig in,
Humming in song.
With a smile on your face,
You watch the pitcher throw,
Right down the middle,
Yet this one was drove!
As far as you could,
The ball flew like out of a gun,
You watch with amazement,
As the pitcher says," That’s my son!"
What a wonderful day to give my Yorkie a bath
Peanut, my four year old boy Yorkie,
sixteen pounds of love and affection,
a coat of blue silver and tan long straight hair
that parts down the middle of his back
He stands with his head in the air with courage and confident of himself
Peanut is due for a bath
which of course he knows
With warm water and shampoo
I lather and rinse him off
Carrying him outside
wrapped in a towel
brush and hairdryer in hand
Oh, he looks so beautiful
long blue silver and tan long straight hair
wagging his little short tail
with a fresh clean scent
My husband had mowed the lawn that morning
so there is lots of loose grass
I didn’t mind Peanut rolling in
but it had rained at least two inches last week
with muddy standing water behind the shed
Guess where my angel decided to go?
He just couldn’t pass it up
a straight path into the muddy standing water
I grinned and shook my head
Whether I like it or not Peanut is due for a bath again
9-22-2014
Poetry Contest:I Love My Pets!
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
I was on me way to Adelaide, to watch the Blues take on the Crows,
it’ll be a super effort winning there, as every Vic here knows,
I could have flown and watched the game and done it in one day,
but decided on a tourist drive to catch the sights along the way.
I took the narrow winding path along the Ocean Road;
took in mountain views of sandy beaches, these special vistas showed;
spent one night in the Grampians with Zumsteins Kangaroos
and another in the Little Desert; a garden filled with many hues.
Then I drove down to Mount Gambier to visit rellies there,
I toured around the blue lakes and the limestone caverns where
stalactites and stalagmites grew from the roof and floor,
and then I found my el dorado… a McDonalds store.
Since the morning I left Melbourne, it’s been all fruit and weet bix,
so its great to find the ‘Golden Arches’ where I get my ‘Macca’ fix;
a nice thick super burger, with a coke and double fries,
and it’s waiting on the counter and so attractive to my eyes.
I found a table that was empty, put down the tray and ate a chip,
placed a serviette upon me lap, grabbed the coke and took a sip,
unwrapped the burger, ate more chips; had another drink of coke,
then watched a couple sit beside me, but neither of them spoke.
It’s obvious that they are married and that both are elderly,
but it seemed strange they ordered, the very same as me,
then I watched the fella cut the burger, in half carefully,
divide the chips and into glasses, pour the coke out equally.
I must admit I felt embarrassed as I watched this small charade,
and thought that being pensioners, times must be pretty hard,
so with a caring gesture, I offered them my burger, chips and coke,
but they refused me generous offer, and the lady quietly spoke.
“I know you mightn’t understand”, and then continued with her riddle,
“But through our married fifty years, we’ve split things down the middle,
what we buy is always shared, including everything we eat.”
Then she sat and watched her husband, scoff his Macca’s treat.
Here I am still quite confused, as I scrutinize what’s going on,
she’s watching as her food goes cold, so I asked her what was wrong,
“Oh nothings wrong” she said, then took a drink to quench her thirst,
“It just so happens that its Harold’s day, to use the false teeth first.”
When someone steals from a store, and strong arms the owner…
When he walks down the middle of the street, daring others to stop him.
When he wants to stop traffic by blocking the streets… he is a fool.
He’s a Bully and Thug, those who follow him are: nothing but fools.
When others follow him and destroy a community, they are thugs.
They are nothing but criminals, marking and claiming their territory.
When the police stand by allowing them to loot, and burn stores…
Remember: If you dance with fools, be careful, you don’t become one.
Thugs destroy communities, to give them free reign, makes you a fool.
Letting the storeowners lose every thing… makes the police fools.
Watching them destroy more stores and to walk away with alcohol…
Letting them celebrate, burn, and loot, all night long, then police are fools.
To cordon them off is not enough, put them where they belong… in jail.
Remember: Dance with fools, and be careful, you do not become one.
Those stores keep your community alive; their taxes pay police salaries.
Those stores feed families… The good people will quickly leave.
When the community is an empty shell… Then who are the fools?