Best Ellen Poems
Young Ellen Hanley caught John Scanlon’s eye
He was determined that she’d be his wife
Their marriage was cursed and Ellen would die
On the River Shannon she lost her life.
She was a beauty but of lower class
He belonged to a wealthy family
A few weeks later grew tired of the lass
She was found in Shannon’s estuary.
His servant killed Ellen a girl so young
And from a boat threw her over the side
Both men found guilty and from gallows hung
Her dead body washed ashore with the tide.
In Clare there stands a memorial stone
The Colleen Bawn she is now better known.
Written on 28 January 2019
If I was a boy, not yet a young man
I’d push some paper into your han’.
Lined and folded it would be,
moving words for you to see.
With thumb and fingers you’d hold it tight,
then angle and raise it to the light.
Clouded words, with love as one
All pushed out by a shining sun.
Was it ever meant to be?
Still they wander within me.
That note, those words, they wander in me.
Still they wander, still in me.
Then I was older, yesterday’s young man
and distanced from your remembered han’
Should wooden doors with bronze mail slots
Have been the place to place my thoughts?
Those unwritten words lived in my head,
Never sent and never said.
Politely they sat for so many a day,
nothing to alter their quiet stay
Was it ever meant to be?
Still they wander within me.
That note, those words, they wander in me
Still they wander, still in me
Now older still, tomorrow’s dead man
Rather than paper I’ll move my han’
To you it goes, open and worn
May yours mend my heart that’s torn
Was it ever meant to be?
Still they wander within me.
That note, those words, they wander in me
Still they wander, still in me.
I'll never know if it was meant to be
She left this life ahead of me
I still hold tight that imagined note
The one with words I never wrote
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9
Mark Toney
10/2017
F-I-F-T-Y you ain't got
no alibi your 56,
your 56.
So say it loudly,
say it proudly
let it out, let it show
your 56 Ellen,
who would
of known?
Your truly hot,
you truly glow,
you got it going
on Ellen don't
you know?
Your ageless,
your timeless,
your true to your soul.
You spread
kindness and,
goodwill to all
you know and,
to all the guest
who go see your
show.
Your awesome, your funny,
your a dancing machine, you
got it going on Ellen your living
your dreams.
So you keep on keeping on Ellen,
cause the good lord above is
going to keep blessing you
Ellen till your one- hundred and one.
Happy 56th Birthday Ellen!
By Cherbo Geeplay
It rains so much in Monrovia that a
day is like the bloated dough on a
grey earthly May, washing over October.
My love, the sun, hides in her bright den
refusing to be seen. Life comes to a slow
twiggy motion; the forest is breathing
with moisture, like a hut puffing smoke as
a pipe. While the creeks bridged their ledges,
there is a seismic run-down Waterside!
Enough, no more, the sewage can take!
She is in my arms, listening to the music
pounding the roof. Still, calm, reading
Ebony Dust, though, with lightning bolts
yelling to be heard.
The clatter is like
a rumble---tumbling falling rockets.
The sorry corrugated zinc holds her
seams, the bed is dry, but the room
is a puddle.
The city is
cramp and damp, like a soaked
sponge dripping with water. The
hustling contested old city in an
evening fog, the Mesurado in
a bulge, taking Fanti fishermen
to and fro,
to the edge of Westpoint.
To love in the midst of mists,
of raging thunder under your ears
and an air filled with blithering vermin,
is to drink a linctus in anger, cooped in
wretched penury. So when the wait,
cannot wait to be over, you my love
must endure, waiting to part with the
wrath the rains imposed, much needed
however, to calm the California wildfires,
gifted on these shores, for
free. Now: you
understand, then,
the irony of nature!
_____
Copyright 2018, Adelaide Literary Magazine, New York
Oh, that Ellen DeGeneres
Should be Ellen Da Generous!
She tosses those gifts about
That make you wanna shout,
"Hey, throw me somethin', glamorous!"
You’re my symphony
the blood that runs through my veins,
ageless and timeless
like the metamorphic Rose
you came to dwell in my life!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
I rather watch a kestrel to see
Her swoop and swirl
The skies invisible maze
To feed the inhabitants of her nest
Her milk of gratitude
Morning begins with a bright darkness
And the beckoning beaks for food
There is a wind ruffled mood
Yawing the feathers of the breast
Dawn is a ransom for the truth
Her flight negotiates
The billowing whirlwind
Of dust
Settled in the bowl of expectation
It is the African way.
Courage cannot wear shackles
When the protest comes
This transition
Have shaken superstructures
Not roots, but leaves
Any grafted branch can bear
We did not invent this way
This democracy
Churning chaos out of selfishness
This way of bridging men's hope
This inclusion that is exclusive
This decomposition of old bargaining
Of parables under ancient trees
Strange shifts happen
When we disrobe our cloth
Baring ourselves of familiar primitives
Was not the old ways good enough
Why did we not transform it
While the time was transforming us
Into spectacles
Since we did not want to be invisible still
Will we transform what we
Have borrowed
Into a resemblance of our sense
Of equality, belonging and value?
The base fumbles into sectors
Carved by streets intersecting villages
Divided by self interests
More than any division of our origin
We who came from Jamaica
Barbadoes, Trinidad
And Guyana
Leaving Elmina, Shama, and Sekondi behind
Cattled in the coral that was not pearl
Permitted by a sympathy of the Unites states
Came here forming a new state
Out of forgotten memories
Of lost addresses and broken grief
Of kinship disillusionment
Called this Liberia
Clothing the construction of autonomy
With the identity of freedom.
Is it surprising then this tension
This fractious existence
In a dark forest of genocide
That each sit not well with self as stranger
For this group have no social memory
Beyond the coming of the ships
Until a common bond is forged
From the sorrow of years of fire
To form a new collective identity
Nothing speaks to the deep insecurity
Where there is a need for belonging
Like the suckle of the milking breast
Soft on the flesh of the tongue
With kindness
Telling us our faults
Teaching us to be brothers again
Telling us how to feel the humanity
In our forgotten hearts
Straining to build out of the pain.
A girl i desire
an ancient flame rekindled
sincere warmth impaled,
there the whole day perfection
a place i ne'er want to leave.
© Harry j Horsman 2013
Again, I sit beneath the trees,
Pen and paper on my knees.
I yearn for something new not old.
I crave for story never told.
Between the branches squirrels leap,
While at my feet the critters creep.
I wait to see what words will form
A quiet tale or one of storm
Leaves they move, dance and rest.
Sun moves too, towards the west.
Moons will rise and birds will flock.
Days will pass and months will clock.
And so with all the passing time
I wait upon the proper rhyme
I touch the old but never the new
Still I write on - with thoughts of you.
I lost her somewhere in my past
so many years ago.
How could I have thought
a brief hello -
would linger so,
deep within my heart.
So many times she calls my name
in the darkness of my days.
My dreams reveal -
what once was real,
now deep within my heart.
written 06.21.2016
I truly enjoy watching
The Ellen Show
I’ve never been in person
But would love to go
There’s lots of laughter
Guaranteed for sure
No matter what ails ya
It’s a wonderful cure
It’s full of surprises
There’s just no telling
What all you’ll get
When watching Ellen
She dishes out joy
Inspiring the audience
And keeps us updated
On most current events
Her show only comes on
In the middle of the day
During the times I work
So it’s a recording I play
After I have my supper
I like a dessert that’s sweet
So I count the Ellen Show
As my night time treat
Florence McMillian (Flo)
Miss Ellen DeGeneres
Dislikes face powder adheres
It stains all her Armani
No more makeup for honey
3/22/2019
Poetry Contest: Celebrity or Famous Person
sponsor, Tania Kitchin
Every ounce of sacrifice you offered along the way
Like a flashlight guiding us on our darkest journeys
Looking for our way to get out on our destination
Even providing us the company all along
No other to describe a mother's love such as you do for us.
Thanks for being there for us, Mom. :)
3/19/2015
This is a parody I wrote to the tune of the band
" Dr Hook And The Medicine Shows" Hit song
"On the Cover Of The Rolling Stone" (Magazine)
I hope you like it..........
We come from deep space
Just to get to this place
It takes us a light year or two
We travel through time, until we find
The right worm hole to go through
We know we look funny
We're the color of money
But money ain't enough you know
Cause we keep getting sighted
But we can't get invited
To be on the Ellen on her show
Ellen's show
Where we are feeling, just like Magellan
Ellen's show
On the floor and dancing close to Ellen
Ellen's show
Where we all are gravity repelling
Right Here On The Ellen Show
We have a flying a disc
That no one can miss
No matter what the papers say
They claim we're a rocket or some comet
They never tell the truth anyway
There's one thing we mean
And that's to be seen
So the number of believers will grow
We hope we'll be sighted
So we can be invited
To appear on the Ellen on her Show
Ellen's Show
"Were She could solve all of the mystery"
Ellen's Show
"And we could all be making history"
Ellen's Show
Shining Light on the current lame sophistry
Right there on the Ellen Show
We're here to be seen
If you know what I mean
So we put on our bright lights at night
We'll hover over here, hover over there
Then we'll take off and blast out of sight
Well, it's all just find and we really don't mind
Being classified a UFO
If We could get sighted and be invited
To dance with Ellen on her show
Ellen's show
Where we are feeling just like Magellan
Ellen's show
On the floor and dancing close to Ellen
Ellen's show
Where we all are gravity repelling
Right Here On The Ellen Show
Right Here On The Ellen Show
I hear the songs of yesteryears
They play upon my eyes with tears
And like a hymnal above her grave
Her notes to me are what I save