Best Fifteen Poems
A cacophony of cats in my life.
Not one or two, but fifteen!
Each,who along with joy,
brought sadness and strife!
All shapes and sizes with grand
and most loving personalities.
The Maine Koone was the smallest
of all.
Maxine was pedigreed and came
home as a present for my daughter
as a surprise, one fall.
My oldest cat,Luvey,lived to be
a sprightly twenty years old!
A tortoiseshell petite cat,fun and
a loving, furry,cloud to hold.
Kelly came next, a handsome red tabby.
A happy, mellow fellow who pranced
with such grace!
He really was happy and snazzy.
Lucey came later, a Ragdoll prize of a cat,
about to be put down!
I fought and won to stop her date with an
imminent death showdown!
I have 15 wooden boxes that have their
cremains..
Each box carved, beloved,and my
housecoat with lost cat tear stains.
I fed them fluids by IV,medications food,
on a special stand.
And countless nights in emergency vet
rooms, wringing my hopeless hands.
My last cat, Luvey lost her ability to see
and walk.
I placed her in a wheelchair and moved
her about.
For I am not one when faced with a challenge,
to balk!
I can't list all their names of how
fun and charming they were.
Just know, that I think of myself as a cat..
Minus the fur!
.........................................
* I do know how to spell the correct name of the
word after breed. It comes out as Maine ****.
Sorry I was unable to use the correct spelling.
She was a regal cat, deserving of her correct
breed name and feline heritage.
October 7,2019
9:30am PST
Animal: cat
A Rhyme About Your Favorite Pet
Regina Riddle
Trees clear.
Falls here.
Docs pills
Cure ills.
Dim glow
Wick low.
Turn key
Lock free.
Mist cloud
Grey shroud.
Big weir
Stay clear.
Wasp sting
Red ring.
Sad clown
Big frown.
UHU
Strong glue.
Grape vine's
Makes wines.
Weddings
Gold rings.
Slow dance
Romance.
Long kiss
Pure bliss.
Small plate
Lose weight.
Fire drills
Test skills.
Written 2nd September 2020.
If l had to hand-pick fifteen poets from Poetry Soup
To meet and a share day
I know exactly who l would pick
Without doubt straight away
We are all drawn to different personalities
Solely from the words we pen
Connections made , thoughts shared
We have a poetry friend
The poets l would pick are varied
From different walks of life
Different cultures , different ages
Conversation and humour would be rife
When the day ended ….l wonder though
Would l pick the same fifteen again
Or would l walk away thinking
Really??…..what an absolute pain!
When I see my day in chunks of fifteen minutes
It’s impossible to feel overwhelmed
I feel blessed with newfound freedom
Take a bath
Read a few pages
Walk to the corner of the street
Take in a few sunrays
Stop and listen to a bird chant
Take a photo or two of an awesome bloom
Appreciate the cloud up in the sky
Marvel at the ant’s herculean feat at my feet
Give a quick call to my mom
Take a few deep breaths outdoors
Sketch the graceful lines of an orchid
Count the raindrops as they hit my window
Dance to a favorite song
Call a friend
Hug my lover
When I see my day in chunks of fifteen minutes
It’s impossible to feel overwhelmed
And I feel blessed
AP: 3rd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022
If l had to hand-pick fifteen poets from Poetry Soup
To meet and a share day
I know exactly who l would pick
Without doubt and straight away
We are all drawn to different personalities
Solely from the words we pen
Connections made , thoughts shared
We now have a poetry friend
The poets l would pick are varied
From different walks of life
Different cultures , different ages
Conversation and humour would be rife
Yet, when the day ended ….l wonder
Would l pick the same fifteen again
Or would l walk away thinking
Really?….what an absolute pain!
Fifteen days of living I blew bubbles
Bubbles pearlescent in the sun
In hope and love I blew you bubbles
Ephemeral, floating, glorious sun loved bubbles.
In my act of creation, exhale air
Life held close in the bubbles
Uh-whoo, uh-whoo, here’s life to live
I blew you bubbles for you to catch.
Leap and snatch we played bubbles
Bubbles so airy we can hold and spray
A bubbly world of shimmery beings
Floating in the wind of our wake.
And at the end of the pliant and fun filled day
We dreamed of bubbles, leaping for bubbles
Watery, airy bubbles floating, flaring and caught
and held within our hand a bubble, a bubble smashed.
And oh how silly we seemed to break our play
Open up our hand, find within a pearl
A soft shimmery white pearl of life
And let it fly away, in the breeze, like our dream, free.
Fifteen
not sixteen
longing for sweet
just one more year
waiting
He told me
his last
real conversation was in
nineteen-fifty-five. And that was
thirty minutes
on the sidewalk
with an interested stranger.
Those that love him
respect his silence,
keep him to a fifteen word
maximum. That allows them
to get along. Silence is the juice
of that loving home.
He told me
how he dreamed of
lectures, long and
deep draughts
of speech.
He dreamed of
eyes bright with
the lights from his stage.
Inspired by Timothy Lee
Since he first walked, he made the outdoors his
while at home, paternal love was shown with fists.
His Mother’s love wasn’t enough for him to resist
leaving home and his Father’s frequent body hits.
He fell to his knees, “God, I need to be a man
and I’m only fifteen, so please hold my hand.
Father, help me become a good, good man.”
He worked many farms, rooming in barns.
He learned about crops, he learned to build,
he developed farming and carpentry skills.
He paid his bills, never let his loneliness spill.
He bowed his head, “God, thanks that I am fed,
I have a roof, a bed and work skills in hand.
Please, help me, God, be a good, good man.”
He grew to love labor under nature’s sky.
He felt he and the country saw eye to eye,
but in society, he wasn’t sure how to get by.
So, at eighteen, he gave the Job Corp a try.
He locked his fingers, “God, bless my stand,
as I find my way in more industrious lands.
Help me grow to be a good, good man.”
A new widow stands by her husband’s fresh grave
feeling the love-grief flashes their sixty years made.
She looks at their grown children, searching for his strengths,
and sees his traces in these faces, love linked.
Later, at twilight, alone on their country porch,
she sees city skyline in yonder darkness approach.
She knows each night, she will sit here most –
with the lit outline of skyscrapers he designed,
spied from their home he crafted in his beloved sunshine.
In tears, her head bows, “Thank you, God. Glory to your plan
that blessed me with the love of a good, good man.”
Bit late,the third teen,
But dot at fifteen,
Attained puberty,
Today,
The millennium girl!
Limerick crochetés: Once Warrior Fifteen from down under
Once Warrior Fifteen from down under
Trained so hard Hakka to outclap thunder
Scared s..t off rivals
To reach the Finals
At Twitch-in-Ham where Prince roared like Pauper
Anthems sweet lulled the cheery spectator
World hushed to watch Black Hakka Warrior
Earth shook hearts thumped shrieked gulls
Petrified spell-bound rivals
Warrior lungs burst Cup won by neither
Big-money football magnates cheered together
At last World will look up to footballer
American rivals
Or Pelé-fan Bra-zil’s
Hakka now sole weapon of US soldier
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
I'll remember twenty-fifteen
for the atrocities, I've seen.
When ISIS cut a man's head off,
newsmen squealed like pigs at a trough.
The Arab spring was ill-conceived,
democracy wasn't achieved.
And refugees thus forced to flee,
capsized boats, and got drowned at sea.
Religion reared its ugly head,
now we're tasked with counting the dead.
In the name of God, blood ran cold
young girls got kidnapped, raped, and sold.
White cops gunned down unarmed black kids
for minor crimes the law forbids.
Fueling hate that plagued the streets,
bigotry didn't need white sheets.
Global warming was proven real,
it doesn't matter how you feel.
Twenty-fifteen brought mostly pain,
let's pray; its like, won't come again.
(Rhyme)
12/30/2015
( FIFTEEN CROSSES )
I had a dream I was kneeling, at fifteen crosses on the hill
Not a whisper from the trees, everything was still,
I felt a sadness in my heart, an empty kind of pain,
Fifteen souls had gone away, only memories remained.
I tried to cry out to ease my grief,
Lifted my hands to heaven, prayed God's relief.
Not a sound or a word, emptiness abounds,
My sorrow overcoming, I began to drown.
Such bitter suffocation, I wish someone could hear,
Why we let this happen , in my dream nothing was clear.
I shook my fist to heaven and begged for reasons why,
But only silence spoke, offering no reply.
No sound came from my lips even as I screamed,
I prayed it's just a nightmare, an awful kind of dream.
Then I heard a choir of angels beckoning from above.
"The world is reaping hatred,"
"Because the world's not sowing love."
"You should embrace each other's differences no matter what they may be,"
"And enlighten each other with the hope of peace and unity."
When the angel finished speaking, she ended with a sigh,
Gazing down at fifteen crosses of fifteen souls who said goodbye.
Then the heavens opened up, the angels giving way,
up to the gates of heaven, Amazing grace began to play.
And as they left this Earthly realm the angels were downhearted looking
back at fifteen crosses of the recently departed.
A soft rain began falling, but no cloud was in the sky,
Then Jesus whispered to me, "This is how the angels cry."
(c) Jasmine Paul 11-20-2014 ( Columbine High School Tribute )
In Times Square, soon we'll observe a departing,
With a huge Crystal ball's culminating descent.
Millions will celebrate the New Year's starting,
While exiling, to our past, the one just spent.
With former things occupying our year departed,
Whether good, bad, of found settled in between.
They're gone, and future days, remain uncharted,
Let's endeavor to elevate beyond twenty-fourteen.
Make each day count, for something worthwhile,
Greater than observing the Sun's rising and set.
While the world about us is increasingly more vile,
Let this not determine us, adding to us, regret.
For God numbers days and discerns life's ending,
This year, let's not fill days, with wrong things.
While showing love to others, not condescending,
For judgment awaits when our death bell rings.
nHappy New Year 2015
Fifteen minutes to sunset
we haven't got a care
walking along the beach front
letting worries disappear
red skies are pushing closer
my fingers tangle in your hair
two hearts be still and wonder
in comfort there is no fear
waves come wash upon us
there is magic in the air
splashed across the silence
where souls are stripping bare
the sun lays down on the horizon
offering the most glorious of views
I keep looking your way
for my gaze is stuck on you