Best Gam Poems
Gam-ma and baby were spending the day.
Looking for ways to laugh and to play!
Baby said Gam-ma I want to dance!
Twirl me PLEEEASE, will you give it a chance?
Gam-ma said, “baby, it has been too long:
Since I have danced, let’s just sing a song”!
Oh twirl me Gam-ma, twirl me PLEEEASE!
Oh twirl me Gam-ma, just like the breeze!
You can sing a song as we twirl around.
Oh pretty PLEEEASE Gam-ma, we won’t fall down!
So around and around, Gam-ma and baby twirled together.
Till the room was spinning, and they were as light as a feather!
Gam-ma stopped so that she and baby could rest.
But baby said “twirl again, oh PLEEEASE” she pressed!
We need to rest Gam-ma desperately said.
We need to rest, as she held tightly her head!
PLEEEASE, PLEEEASE, sweet baby cried.
Again and again, sweet baby sighed!
So around and around, Gam-ma and baby twirled together.
Till the room was spinning, and they were light as a feather!
While singing a song they both wiggled and jiggled.
Twirling around, Gam-ma and baby laughed and giggled!
Written for my sweet Karaline 3-30-14
Stacey Brown
Mac Caulley was a farmer-O
Living off the shores of Badachro
His fields were sown like tartan-O
The crops crisscrossed in every row.
The evening pulled him to the coast
Where on his pipes he’d sound a toast
To all of those he loved the most
A declaration, but n’er a boast.
Not all were happy with this gam
Those said he shaved with razor clams
That thistle leaves had spiked his dram
While hives of bees, lived in his tam.
He pushed aside the verbal stones
and squeezed the belly, to a moan
A sound akin to grizzly groans
That shaped itself to Highland tones
Sheep wagged wooly heads, to and fro
Fish danced through water, far below
A Stag waved antlers, at his doe
Through rowan trees, the music flowed
Mothers tucked tired children into bed
Fathers sleepily nodded, weary heads
Sleep wrapped itself in myriad threads
About their minds, like pretzel breads.
Mac Caulley set his pipes aside
His feet were damp from shifting tides
He headed homeward, with quick strides
To his doorway lit…by dancing eyes
Vo thandi sarsarati hawa
Mujhe kuch keh ke chali gayi
Ranj-o-gam ki syahi me lipti
Kuch panne zindagi ke bhar gayi
Panne jab palat ke dekhe
To ek kahani simti dikhi
Na jane kab se dhool me padi thi
Kisi ke jeevan ki rubai mitati chali gayi
Kayi saal ho gaye uss sehar ko guzre hue
Ab to door tak vo hawa fir dikhti nahi
Meri zindagi ke vo panne jo usne bhare the
Unme jhakti meri rooh bhi marti rahi
Na jane vo hawa kya kehna chahti thi
Uski parchai bhi sirf yadon ko naseeb thi
Raton me bhi uska hi khayal ata he
Hum samajhte rahe aur vo udti chali gayi
A piddle of puppies, a pimp of johns,
A flood of plumbers, and a regatta of swans.
A charm of finches, a wriggle of sperms,
A sleaze of lawyers, and a sneeze of germs.
a gam of showgirls, a basket of buns,
a shrug of mechanics, and a groan of puns.
A fidget of boy scouts, a gross of farts,
A sulk of teens, and a valentine of hearts.
Life is filled
with ups and downs.
The straightest path
will spin you around.
Your in the black.
Your in the red.
Things stop changing
because your dead.
The hands of time
move on without
your tears of joy
or fears and doubt.
We ride a curve
that's undefined.
A Winter cruel.
A Spring so kind.
Take it in
and push ahead.
The seasons change
no matter our tread.
Stomping through snow drifts
or dancing in rain,
running through sunshine
or steady winds change.
Without a doubt one thing is true,
in skies of black or crystal blue.
On you feet or on your ass,
Gam Zeh Yaavor
THIS TOO SHALL PASS!
- Jeannie Minor
Green eggs and ham I am
Denny's new Grand Slam
Egg whites wriggling like a clam
Yellow yokes oozing over the dam
Ham clods denser than Spam
Coated with a varnish of Pam
Gratuitous cholesterol by the gram
Down unthrottled hatch cram
If green terds your jaded colon jam
And amber waves of gout bloat each gam
To Dr Seus's gluteal factory scram
His stool abusing suppositories are a scam
But his rendering vises are no sham
So with leased enema your red ass ram
Till the ivy clumps ooze through your tram
There are concerts in the sky
playing cosmically on high—
be they grouping in formation
or harmonious creation,
fashioned synesthetically,
astro-energetically,
with conclusion or collusion,
stellar scenes in grand profusion,
gravitationally steady,
starry outbursts brilliant, heady,
like orchestral symphony
from the brass and tympani,
viols, woodwinds, (theoried strings),
to the charms a keyboard brings—
measureless concerti vast
merging present with the past
seamlessly, or so it seems,
as in firmaments of dreams…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration was from “Cosmic Concert for GAM 2017” which was livestreamed with composer Giovanni Renzo, described as “a collection of compositions and improvisations conceived as a visual and poetic exploration of the universe…”
Inspiration also came from the article, “Galactic Wreckage in Stephan’s Quintet”: “A clash among members of a famous galaxy quintet reveals an assortment of stars across a wide color range, from young, blue stars to aging, red stars.”
Jabeen apni kahin kham ho na jaye
Mizaj-e-husn barham ho na jaye
Bhuja to di meri sham-e-tamanna
Chirag-e-zeest madham ho na jaye
Suna to du tumhe afsaana-e-gam
Tumhari aankh purnam ho na jaye
Na dekho yun mohabbat ki nazar se
Yeh amrit hi mujhe sam ho na jaye
Zamana ke talawwun ko to samjho
Musarrat hi kahin gam ho na jaye
Hai taamer-e-hayat Akhtar isi se
Yeh dard-e-dil kahin kam ho na jaye
Garyae gam hai abas deeda-e-nam se pahle
Be haqeeqat hai musarrat jo ho gam se pahle
Aashna ho gaye is se bhi yehi kya kam hai
Sunte the naam-e-sitam tere karam se pahle
Hum ko ilzaam to dete ho mohabbat ka magar
Tumne mahsus kiya tha ise ham se pahle
(Akhtar Muslimi)
The heat of the
midday sun keeps me indoors
But soon the day begins to turn into
poetry
as evening rolls in
I see an old friend when
I step outside
We chat about baseball
The New York Metropolitans
went down to defeat
Just a gam
Sometimes I think life is just a game
But poetry reminds me
there is another side
to life
One glimpsed between
the words
each ode I write
contains the key to escaping
the dullness of "absolute reality"
The space between the silence
and the word
is a space we can use for
transcendence
Every line of poetry has the power
to "drive the fingernail into the heart"
Keep up the good work, poetic sisters and brothers
The flow from your pens
is magic incarnate
You can touch the inner being
of all your readers
if you express
your innermost feeling, dreams, and wishes
on the page
would what that be junior? senior? sophomore?
since this brother in law rarely emails,
ye may scrunch countenance puzzled,
or on verge of emitting flatulence,
that if a ripper got let loose (by Jack),
would possibly find ja propelled,
thru Edgar Allan Poe's churchly
sepulchral tintinnabulation
(where for greater effect
yukon envision imagistic ravenous bats
in belfry resonating air,
or perhaps blasted back
to the House of the rising sun),
BUT...gnome hatter,
no win tent may starkly appear
explaining inexplicable reasonable rhyme,
why aye dash communique
minus virtual trumpeting blare
(sorry, but in the interest
of belated birthday cheer,
without computer generated imagery)
rendered hoop fully readable,
sans black and white Scottish matted pixels
constituting beloved appellation
unsure how to address ye perfectly clear
while sitting atop padded office chair,
pondering as already writ,
how to acknowledge thee, whither with dear...
meanwhile, this scribe experiences
comfortably numb derriere,
now scrambling, resorting, and toying
to fetch acceptable, catchy light hearted endear
mint, that seems tolerably acceptable
(of course) with flair
acutely perceptive, though NOT overboard with glare
ring obeisance, NOR USE ALL CAPS
TO SCREAM so ye kin hear
soap hull ease excuse this incurable
Harris scribe with thinning heir
yes...oye gevalt, infantile regression finds me
burrowed in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania lair
still emotionally inchoate, though grown a mere
speck within the flotsam and jetsam near
to boyhood Collegeville abode NOT saved by a prayer
re: home companion bachelor Norwegian farmer
replaced instead by vinyl city
all in the name of progress
which (once a pawn a time)
open farmland did dis app pear
so...a gam bulling gambit
to avoid moseying down Level Road...
may NOT seem *****
for insufferable sadness
with eyes bursting with many a tear...
(gulp) tis best to veer
away from topic uh viz er rated razed homestead,
and mainly wish ye another birth year!
adieu...from math tha hue
The welkin above and the stars thereof
are a true delight to behold.
There we’re connected in something to love
through the sky that can all enfold.
Boundaries vanish and strife disappears
by assuming perspective grand
when together we look at stellar spheres,
irrespective of local land.
Despite the differences that divide,
in surveying the vast beyond
our far-reaching purposes are allied
so we sense humanity’s bond.
Wonders seem endless as vision wanders
amidst the scenes sidereal
while many a pensive poet ponders
how to voice the ethereal.
Though troublesome worries may get us down
the heavens our spirits uplift
in presence of firmament’s jeweled crown
of night’s resplendent global gift.
When comes the sundown my reveries soar
and soft I hear a mounting cry
by earthly stargazers from shore to shore,
‘We are one people neath one sky.’
Then all unite in the singular goal
of witnessing sights overhead,
thus to share their view of the cosmic whole
with feelings of oneness o’erspread.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
For Global Astronomy Month (GAM) 2020 AstroPoetry ~ penned at the request of Astronomers Without Borders
Good Morning Wishes
sooraj ki pahalee kiran le aaye khushiyon ka paigaam
aur mile chain sukoon din bhar(st)
*****
raat bhar meethe sapanon ke saath aapakee neend pooree huee hongee
aur subah bhee aapakee taazageebharee aur josh bharee ho (st)
*****
bhor hueen panchhee kee chehak mehak se aur os ke bunde chamakeelee
ho aisee hee tumhaaree subah aramaano bharee aur tamanna see (st)
*****
gam to umr bhar saath na chhodega yaaro
par aaj subah ho tumhaaree kheelee kheelee aur har gam ho chhoo mantar(st).
by Sanjay Teli
Love Hindi poems
then just click on
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https://poembysanjayt.blogspot.com
Free range kitchen; cherished pets all around
In adjoining rooms animistic shrines abound
No clucking, cackling pens we'll hound
But residual carcases we'll gladly impound
A docile harvest plucked from the ground
No pork butts, rump roasts, filets to astound
Only our bleating hearts with consciences tightly wound
Thankfully a Speckled goose cannot be bound
With spindly greens our pristine figures we'll round
With a large caldron of bloody beets our carniverous friends confound
Replace the Carolina turkey with a tofu gam
No Picnic ham only Vegetarian Spam
Cancel the Giblet gravy; with spicy curry our imitations drown
A hearty Lentil soup; bouillon not a gram
Judge me if you want to
the devil on my shoulder is one of your own making
you live through me
through the cliches of the worlds three perfect stages
the holes in the plot of phase one
of what i crave most to inform myself
the logic of the puzzle of action for reaction
and an angel of choices i seem to be offered
where the path of least resistance seems to help me out
Obsessive compulsive
music lists
genius at shopping
thye beliefs you feed me
the soultrain im waiting
the dance of destiny
the right shoe untied
the two left feet
I do what i see
what im told
what i think is right
lie when i have to
not because i am evil
but to save my skin
or because there is too much at risk to sacrifice
Its not entirely your fault for me be claimed to impertfections
i forgive you your trespasses
but i refuse to keep playing the victom
eclectic
forever eclectic
pulling in pieces of you
to build my safe have on a puzzle
for there to be light in the darkness
the way i want thing
my utopia
what i weant
even if its a lie
Obsessive compulsive shopping
row by row
reading movie by movie
tle and artist of every cd
looking at every gam
and walking through the clothes line
the things you might find in the fragrance section
after all the games and lives you have bought for your
entertainment
to smell like a god when you watch
the scenes of what has gone wrong
with what we wanted
so back to the start of where we fall apart
the mirrors o seven clocks
and the recyled dreams of the obsessive compulsive
son of man