Best Eighty Nine Poems
Born in London in eighteen eighty nine,
a 'rags to riches' story just like mine.
His childhood was full of horrid violence.
In adulthood he was the king of silence.
In silent reels of comedy he found his fame.
Moving to America is where he made his name.
Through slapstick hilarity and tender tears,
he entertained the world for countless years,
Known for his speech in the Great Dictator,
mocked Hitler, but was seen as a traitor.
Criticised for refusing to go to war.
He was a pacifist, so it caused uproar.
He said his mum was the first to inspire,
he was knighted by the British Empire.
Married four times with eleven children,
had many affairs seen as forbidden.
His laughter was born from the deepest pain.
His artistic spirit will always remain.
He mirrored life in hues of black and white,
whilst painting dreams as a beacon of light.
Unlikely
this romance between
Miss Cricket
and stodgy
Buddy Biddle, so stagnant
set in his ways, stuck
While Cricket
eighty-nine years young
dances rings
around him
full of impish energy
mischievous antics
He proposed
but Miss Cricket won't
marry him
knows better
she's outlived countless lovers
and won't be tied down
She's having
way too much fun- so
fancy-free
no one to
boss her, tell her what to do
woman on the loose
Anyway
he's too old for her
'though only
eighty-four
he can't keep up or begin
to understand her
And he has
hang-ups about sex
proper, prim
prudish ways
appalled at her passionate
kisses, advances
Waggish grin
wild, irreverent
she enjoys
shocking him
with outlandish behavior
incorrigible
Some days he
says he can't take it
she's too much
gone too far
with her pranks- but he gets so
lonely without her
And 'though he
hates to admit it
life is dull
without her
she makes things interesting
by being herself
(NOTE: Although I listed this as a Free Verse, it is actually in Shadorma form...)
Modern times and politics tend to leave me cold
So I close my eyes and fantasize about the days of old
I’d travel back to Nottingham to serve the common good
And join the ranks of Little John, Friar Tuck and Robin Hood
I would be dashing and daring with my sword raised in the air
Fighting kings and princes for the hand of my lady fair
Sometimes I’d be a pirate, rollicking fun and pleasure
Sailing with Long John Silver, looking for buried treasure
I’d travel back to Ancient Egypt in the hot desert sand
Aid the escape by Moses to find the Promised Land
In Ireland you might find me, hiding out in a little town
Helping my fellow countrymen rebel against the crown
Then I’d be a cowboy riding the bull in the rodeo
Or standing side by side with Sam Bowie in Old San Antonio
Oh to be in Philadelphia in seventeen seventy five
Declaring independence, bringing liberty alive
In seventeen eighty nine, with a heart that’s filled with zeal
I would help the proud French citizens in storming the Bastille
I’d be a rebel and a cowboy, a pirate and a king
A bandit and a movie star, I’d laugh and dance and sing.
June twenty -first Nineteen eighty-nine
Your father proudly proclaims
This baby girl is mine
Life was never dull with you around
Hope, love and sadness
Could always be found
Family to you was number one
You proved to us many times
The way you raised your son
You battled demons and won the fight
With family and friends
Your future was in sight
The Angels came on Valentines Day
A massive stroke your last fight
February sixteenth they led you away
Go now my beautiful niece
Be with Grandma and Papa
Pain is gone now Rest in Peace
You can return to earth for two days they said,
but not in that worn out body.
I knew that; and I was glad; it was almost blind,
and had a touch of dementia any way.
You have to go incognito, they told me.
They were stern, and stuck up angels,
Not the kind I was expecting to meet my
first hour in heaven. Assertive even.
Here were my body choices: fourteen year old boy,
red hair, freckles, square chin.
Eighty-nine year old body, old lady, wrinkled,
spotted hands, sweet smile, looked serene.
Or two-year-old female, blonde hair, plump and perfect.
I could not see their eyes, for the eyes do not appear
until you enter the body suit.
Two-year-olds can be dancy-prancy. But that would mean
I would have to have gatekeepers in the form of parents,
probably, and I wanted two days of freedom not naps.
Being eighty- nine did not appeal to me at all.
I have never enjoyed arthritis in my feet or a humpback.
“Fourteen year old boy,” I told them. They nodded,
being smug angels, and my self-chosen-spirit-guides for many lifetimes.
All of my relatives stared at the giggling freckled
red-haired teenage boy at my funeral.
They speculated that he had escaped from the
boys’ group home on the corner.
Every time one of them got up and said something
nice about me, the boy burst out laughing.
They did not escort him out, because weirdly enough,
he had my witch-laugh, and it comforted them.
She’s eighty-nine years of age
So wise she’s quite a sage
As long as she’s sane
Long may she reign
I do hope she draws a good wage
She married Prince Phillip who’s Greek
His gaffes sometimes make him a geek
When he opens his mouth
His brains they go south
The Queen cringes when he starts to speak
They live in London in a palace so grand
The finest royal residence in the land
Waited on hand and foot
I guess they will stay put
Crowds are entertained by a marching band
Prince Charles is King in waiting
His mother’s reign he is berating
Banana skins on the floor
Superglue on the door
Some hope he will never be King
He married Camilla Parker Bowles
She loves to drive off in the ‘Rolls’
Before he was married to Di
Camilla had caught his eye
And now his heart she controls
Contest: Long Live The Queen
Sponsor: Judy Konos
05~09~15
Silver Dollar
Eighteen-eighty-nine
Many millions touched your face
You are still a buck.
Homage to Johnny Bench
The greatest catcher ever was
With one hand 'hind his back
Was Johnny Bench. Yep, that's the buzz.
And never did he slack.
He broke ole Yogi's home run hits.
"The Little Colonel"'s claim:
Three hundred eighty-nine and gets
The Baseball Hall of Fame.
His Cincinnati Reds they won
Four pennants in the League
And twice the Series! OK.'s son
Had baseball under siege
He had big hands and he could hold
In one hand seven balls
But more than this, he speaks, I'm told
At charities and malls;
Awards for college athletes;
He writes and sings on pitch.
While teamwork makes a job complete,
A dream made Johnny Bench.
©deborah burch
3.24.2013
Regarding fashion,Punk set out to gauge
The style of hair and clothes which would outrage.
John Lennon's voice was silenced at this time;
Mark Chapman was convicted for the crime.
A technical development unfurled
Which launched the first PC into the world.
And Cable television could diffuse
A twenty-four hour coverage of news.
Professor Rubik came from Budapest
And introduced a spatial IQ test.
To scramble combinations was the aim;
A 3D coloured cube preserved his name.
So many budding actors came and went,
But only one became a President.
And Reagan gave the greatest speech of all
When he said ’Gorbachev – tear down this wall!’
And thus it was in nineteen eighty-nine
That East and West Berlin would intertwine.
And in that year I too knew boundless joy;
The blessing of my first born baby boy.
07/11/18
'Remembering the 1980s contest' : Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
How
can
I not
write poems
dedicated too
Leonardo Fibonacci?
The man who saw curious beauty in equations,
and perplexing symmetry in creation - counting eighty-nine petals precisely
in just one yellow sunflower plucked nonchalantly
from a field of summer champions.
As amber questions
become waves
beneath
my
feet.
Hello madam, and welcome to our place of business.
Is there any way that I can be of assistance?
We have a huge selection of cars both used and new.
Chances are we have the right one on the lot for you.
We sell and service cars from the best automaker.
One with a long and storied past, it’s Studebaker!
If you don’t readily see what you are looking for,
we have some in the back lot; or we can order more.
You’ve heard all about the financial difficulty
that’s been plaguing this automotive company.
Let me tell you, in this year of nineteen sixty-three,
you will never buy a car of greater quality.
Don’t you just love the smell of brand new upholstery?
With the range of our models, we have variety.
“Gran Turismo Hawk” is top of the line luxury.
We have the low-priced “Lark” if you want economy.
But take a look at the company’s latest entry,
it’s a sporty new coupe that is known as “Avanti”.
This innovative family sports car is so great.
It has a powerful two eighty-nine cubes V-8!
It can generate almost three hundred horsepower
with the optional latest Paxton supercharger.
It can move at one hundred fifty miles an hour!
Its body is made of lightweight rustproof fiberglass.
It’s the sportiest vehicle that has the most class!
Madam, I’ll tell you, this is the one you’ll love, no doubt.
We saw you walk in, and we want to see you drive out!
Our prices are lowest. They won’t be staying that way.
Why wait? We can make you a terrific deal today.
When you drive up to your friends, you know what they will say?
“Wow, what a beautiful car, I’m getting one today!”
Wake&run,
Before my mother.
Plays with water gun,
Before the plants suffer.
Start worshiping God,
Without thinking anything odd.
Then sit in the sunshine,
With her friends for sometime.
Having breakfast having lunch,
And give us a milk punch.
Then sleep for few hours,
And worshiping God again with flowers.
And watches T.V till dinner,
With my mother and sister.
And sleep at nine,
By thinking the time is fine,
At the age of Eighty Nine.
A closet hangs with ideas from Facebook posts past.
Tags still hang from pretty purchases,
nobody tagged in posts never made.
I sigh as I struggle in arms and poke through my big head.
The hourglass that has flippantly flipped
two hundred and eighty nine thousand times
has not left me it’s salacious shape like it has Michelle.
I wiggle out of wool’s tight hug.
A T-shirt and work worn jeans beacon me
like someone never unfriended.
I apply a layer of vanity,
rimming my eyes in black
a raccoon’s asset, so why not mine?
Red rouge ravishes cheeks that the sun should have.
I wince in weary wonderment as
Jan still looks like twenty Januarys ago.
There’s Tammy, posing perky and proud perfect.
She has a cousin I wished to kiss in kindergarten.
Lovely Lisa, whose husband I did try kissing in first grade.
Wendy is still wily and wild in a winsome way.
Betsy, best in beauty, my childhood cornerstone before chantilly.
Then, holding a two year old friend,
outside my three feet of comfort,
I tap the icon, and wonder momentarily,
why it’s called as such.
Realization hits like the sissy girl I used to be.
Its iconic, this legacy of vanity,
passed from polaroid to paranoid.
I don’t have to shake it and wait, it’s instantaneous.
This face is a fleeting fallacy.
So I lather away the layer of vanity
and return to myself.
I like her better,
and so might he,
so I post.
It’s a wait and see.
My place,
My spot in this world,
Sitting in my chair,
At my yellow desk,
Looking over my plants,
My church,
And my home town,
Knitting needles left carelessly out,
A framed poem from my cousin,
An abacus with colorful beads,
A picture of my brother and I,
School papers and stories started are strewn across my desk,
Country music plays,
And an air conditioner hums in the background,
A globe from my uncle,
And a favorite hat sit on my desk as well,
Eighty-nine degrees at twenty minutes 'till eight pm,
It was a hot day,
I watch the trees barely fluttering in the wind across the street,
My cluttered desk,
Strewn with my papers,
And my room right next door,
My place in this world for now.
Ooooh wow...a nice classy fortified wine dressed in a milky white dress. Shimmering for all to see. Injest not the erosive clatter of a purple frog. As it is far to dangerous. One may end up quacking. Or shivering in a bikini on a desert floor at three am. After midnight loopholes are often embellished with sounds so one can use a curly stick to jump into and over the many plates who arrive with handbags edged with carefully extracted silver. Who sounded the hunting horn of Thor? Not I said the fourth dimensional rune stone.I am happy to keep my inscription in this lovely luxurious box. Tinder cartoon it be not. I will wait for the wind. Erotic cries of Freya balancing on cymbal clouds. Exonerating falsities with wisps of sunlit hairs. Box shut. I marvel at the eighty nine acres of a moonlit street. Standing in a sinkhole. Sunken jag. Sunk not a beetroot though. They are very pleased in a jar whirling. Questionable is the beak of a large lobster flying. Often disguised. Disguises are unnecessary and unneeded and often the cackle of a candle can evoke a wandering godly orb. Orbital sound then. Oh good. Injestion and resulting in synchronized delivery in a swamp. Turds are often great for expulsion yet a turnip can be quite quick to move. So tread very carefully in a vegetable patch to avoid scarring. A mist in a mountain is a dew ball but free-falling with a thousand foot golden baseball bat is akin to holding a sword to a heavenly cloud to release acronyms and cones of very charismatic mind orbs. Viewed in orbicular centimetres and carried on the breezes by the caterpillar planes. Planting painting properly posted placed characterful colourful clown club visiting iron rays of dome. Sap seep swept sweltering swelling serpentry sent son. Sun. X and now I will have a sit down on the appropriate asteroid. And drink a large cup of air. Under Up under Up xxxxx
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