Best Goers Poems
clad in rags, he wanders on Wall Street
he is invisible to hustling stock brokers
he is a man with no money, no property
a hapless struggler of excessive loan burdens
bitter winter winds blow across Broadway
he is invisible to affluent theatre-goers wearing warm winter coats
he is a man who watches them scurry past the cardboard box that is his bed
like a rain-dog, huddling in the shadows of alleys and doorways
he hears deafening explosions of New Year fireworks
he is invisible to the revellers
he is a man who cowers, recalling gunfire of a war he fought
echoing through his mind in restless nights
the incessant thumping of traumatic stress
he is invisible...a victim of post-Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq
who once bore a uniform and served his country with pride
he is invisible suffering alone, paying the price
through severe disabilities and permanent scars
with sadness, he watches voters going to the polls
he is invisible, a veteran with no voice in elections
he is a man who cannot vote without an “address”
a placard on a pavement might catch the eye
unemployed, homeless, unseen
but most of all forgotten
he is a man who seems invisible
but he is still a man
-------------------------------------------------------------
This is co-written by Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
in remembrance of our war veterans.
[Published @ Muse to Move (A.P.F. Publisher UK 2017]
For years he'd loved her and believed
it was a beautiful affair,
for on some nights, he'd slip away
and knew she always would be there.
They'd meet at restaurants or bars,
but when he traveled out of state,
he'd take her to a nice hotel.
Once in the room, he could not wait!
With hands on skin so glassy smooth,
he'd hold her long into the night.
So sweet she was upon his mouth!
It felt so good; it felt so right!
Beside her he would fall to sleep.
Next day was business, but he felt
so happy knowing that at night,
his stress and worries all would melt.
Yes, through the night, the longer that
beside his lover he would lay,
euphoria was his because
he felt the whole world fade away.
His love for her was deepening
so much, his wife became aware
of changes in him. He'd just say
"There's no one else but you. I swear!"
At home he'd lie in bed and think
of his sweet love but had to be
deceptive, sneaking out because
church-goers were his wife and he.
One night, too late he stayed with her.
He drove with her in his corvette.
Stopped by a cop, he had to live
a night he never can forget,
They called his wife, and that was worse
than paying the ungodly fine.
His wife put him in therapy
to end his tryst with sweet Red Wine!
July 1, 2016 for the "It Was a Beautiful Affair" contest of Lewis Raynes
My Handicap Beach
As I lay here and look out the window from our hotel at the absolutely amazing view..
It makes me wonder how something so simple creates such beauty and always seems so new..
I feel sadness for those who pass by every day and don’t think another thought about..
The beauty that surrounds them from the beach and the water with the waves washing in and out..
The lighthouse that stands unintentionally stoic and tall and lights the way for those out at sea..
And the sand that finally runs across my toes which has been a dream for so long for me…
This was only possible with the help of a loving person who got me where I needed to go…
And to whom I really hope does realize how much they have helped me in many ways to grow..
And there are always a few people that have to make a spectacle of a girl in a wheelchair..
As they walk by me and say things in a whisper as if they think I can’t hear along with a stare here and there..
If they only knew that It was one of the best days of my life and that I am feeling so relaxed and at ease..
I will take all of their comments and let them go over my head along with the beautiful breeze..
Because this morning I may have been the disabled girl on the beach which was a wonderful thing to me..
And until you learn to see the view from down in a wheelchair every day I don’t care what you think you see...
Because today my view was from the warm sand on a beach towel that was laid down just for me and was the best..
Day I have had in so long because I was no longer that poor gilt in the wheelchair and felt almost like all of the rest..
Of beach goers and comers to the new jersey shore in Atlantic City and right on the pier that is very well known..
For gambling and partying but for me it was just to feel the sand on my toes and feel like I was not handicapped if even for a few moments alone..
Coming home with my stuff in disarray the way it always is along with a few souvenirs because they are from my very first trip away from home..
I loved it so much and want to thank those who took me long on a short but awesome vacation to start me going more which I really hope..
Because it’s nice sometimes to go to places that make you feel different than the usual girl in the wheelchair always needing help from what I call in my head my proverbial rope..
Buffy Sammons
TANGLEWOOD AS THERAPY
Tanglewood untangled me, took my breath away
each moment of Sibelius, Mahler, Rachmaninoff
sweet violins, trumpets, kettle drums, cellos, fire
mixed with wind, echoing within the shed, over
the lawn, concert goers sprawled on blankets,
seated on beach chairs attentive to every sound
those strains, my favorite classics, filled my blood
stream, inched me toward lovers, tugged me,
two spouses proposed, suitors hugged my body,
kissed me with gusto, whispered into my ears,
became surrogates for melting chocolate cream,
weakened my knees, laid bare my breasts, filled
my groin, all from the moment my father took
our family to the shed where I first heard Mahler’s
First “The Titan”, not on a scratchy 78 platter, not
from our wood cabinet radio in our Brooklyn house
the melodies of democracy, free radio, modern
media, fade, assaulted by the Kremlin loving
leader. Russian composers crowd the classical
repertoire, do not taint my delight, my passion,
for the memories of past affairs are Picasso art
filtered through Stravinsky, Prokofiev, and one
therapist treating me for TRUMPRESSION
Sun’s soulful smile swells boundlessly
while the sky mirrors the clear blue sea.
Seashore blends with the ebbs’ rolling voices
Sifting, swaying to and fro
as beach-goers barge in.
Humid air blows gently around
On white dunes with parasol mounts
Picnics with lots of fun abound
Excursionists are hard to count.
ice cream and cold drinks
available everywhere…
hot season’s specials
April 1, 2022 1.54pm
(Forms: Crystalline- Kimo- Quatrain- haiku)
www.howmanysyllables.com: (8,9) 17-(10,7,6)23- (8,8,8,8)32- (5,7,5)17
For A Combination of Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
All of our righteousness are as filthy rags
I do believe that's what I read
We all fall short of the glory of God
I know that's what my bible said.
But there are some of you that don't have a clue
You think yourselves an exception to these rules
You think you are wise and perfect in God's eyes
When in reality, you're nothing but fools.
You judge all of mankind making yourself blind
To your own faults, or you pretend to have none
You curse all men who are submerged in their sin
While forgetting the things that you've done.
You're in church every week and when its your turn to speak
You speak loudly, for you love to be heard
You should keep it in mind while impressing mankind
That your actions speak louder than your words.
It is church goers like you when you do what you do
That causes God to quickly take offense
You skillfully dodge all blame and hide in God's name
However, there are many ways to straddle the fence.
Now don't get me wrong for I do not go along
With the things that men are doing today
But I can't throw a stone when I've many faults of my own
I just tell people about God the right way.
You and your kind who are so stupid and blind
Build yourselves up by knocking others down
Because they're not like you and don't do what you do
You say that they're lost, and will not get a crown.
You sit in high places and walk about with two faces
Seeming godly, if only in your eyes
You tell your sisters and brothers that they're better than others
But I know that this is nothing but lies.
Think what you may but come judgement day
When the Master has completed His reaping
You'll stand in His glory and we'll know the true story
For He'll reveil the secrets that you're keeping.
When God sees your mess He will not be impressed
By what you have or what you think you may know
He'll take just one look, see your name not in His book
Then it will be off to hell you will go.
You could change this sad ending if you stopped your pretending
To be perfect and all holier than thou
Stop hiding your evil ways and do as God says
Then you'll be saved, but the time is right now.
By Benjamin Macieo Davis
Theprinceofpoetry
The dust devils swirled with grit as their lacing,
and dark Sonnet storefronts boarded in despair.
The Senryu Saloon shut its cafe doors
and the Couplet Church-goers fled in pairs.
She thought he wouldn't live in all his Paeons.
She packed her Blank Verses in one simple case
and went to the station to board the Quatrain,
leave all the Haiku for a happier place.
The two poets stood there grim in their facing.
Only one would survive and one would lay down.
The fact that it happened left Lyrics racing:
Indeed, 'twas a dark day in Poetry Town.
she and he in polished shoes,
his tie she tied like a noose,
sunday's knight,
shining with borrowed grace.
the church bell rings,
like something forgotten it had to say—
they hear it as their anthem.
he's got the Book
tucked under his arm,
pages marked with
sins they swear aren't theirs.
mouth's whisper Solomon's psalms
that their hands have never followed,
but still, they kneel,
all theater and flourish, cheeks flushed.
he sneered at the beggar
on the church steps,
dropping a coin only when
he knew, that someone was watching.
inside, they clasp their hands,
not to pray,
but to shield themselves
from their own insidious reflections.
out they walk,
cleaner than confession,
a god in their own minds,
but the devil's grin
hides behind their lips.
and somewhere,
someone who does believe,
but loves,
sleeps on just fine.
Through sand and haze beach goers stroll
Leaving footprints where soft crested waves roll
~*~
6/10/'13
clad in rags, he wanders on Wall Street
he is invisible to hustling stock brokers
he is a man with no money, no property
a hapless struggler of excessive loan burdens
bitter winter winds whip across Broadway
he is invisible to affluent theatre-goers wearing warm winter coats
he is a man who watches them scurry past the cardboard box that is his bed
like a rain-dog, huddling in the shadows of alleys and doorways
he hears deafening explosions of New Year fireworks
he is invisible to the revelers
he is a man who cowers, recalling gunfire of a war he fought
echoing through his mind in restless nights
the incessant thumping of traumatic stress
he is invisible...a victim of post-Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq
who once bore a uniform and served his country with pride
he is invisible suffering alone, paying the price
through severe disabilities and permanent scars
with sadness, he watches voters going to the polls
he is invisible, a veteran with no voice in elections
he is a man who cannot vote without an “address”
a placard on a pavement might catch the eye
unemployed, homeless, unseen
but most of all forgotten
he is a man who seems invisible
but he is still a man
*As we prepare to celebrate Veterans Day, I would like to thank Paul Callus
for co-writing with me. Our veterans deserve more than we can ever give them.
"The Church"
A wooden door clicks
open
To the beginning of
a southern spiritual
The newbie feels
depleted and empty
It is the reason why
she came
Her acceptance is
immediate
She is given a few
sheets of music
Worn down by others
who need them not
these days
They slide in the
pews and begin to
ride the wave
Of vocal unity
coming their way
Singing
quintessential love
for the lord
Flowing a strength
that never grows
tired
She see a person
with palms extended
Telling her "Take my
hand, become a
witness"
Everybody sings for
all their worth
And together spirits
do rise!
In sanctity and
emotion they are
here to contribute
So she does all the
same
The next passage
leads into a
wonderful Gospelous
glory
A song evolved from
the old days of
slavery
And the
sharecroppers who
thought less of them
Unjustified though
it was to keep
people down
Belief and
acceptance would be
among the church
goers
Welcoming anyone in
need
She starts to feel
better
Resting assured of
her day redeemed
Reconciliation for
old times has come
As everybody will be
shown deliverance
from evil
In this chapel there
is growth and
understanding
A community born and
linked one note at a
time
Progress and
togetherness
remembered every
Sunday
We must never let
our brethren forget
was spoken from
behind
She agreed with an
outward
wholeheartedness
"For here I am to
worship!" The new
comer sang her
praise
And the priest, he
said "Amen!"
When the time comes we shall all gather,
People of all walks and talks together,
In front of the parish for the Holy Communion,
It is here that we meet our companion,
In holy matrimony we unite before the father,
But this is no ordinary parish,
We separate men from boys before they perish,
We relish in wines and spirit,
Just like church goers after the Holy Spirit,
In beer we trust because its fetish,
The parish,
I drink until i perish,
In beer my life i cherish,
I wish to make a wish,
Parish, perish, cherish, i wish,
Just like the church seeing holiness in the pope,
In the bar tender we see drinking hope,
We speak in tongues under the influence,
And we never shy away from an audience,
So don't demonize us, we don't do dope,
Just like Jesus who walked on water,
We keep on walking like Johnny Walker,
On your wall the Holy Virgin Mary,
On mine you'll find the famous Hale Berry,
Unlike them were living our happily ever after,
The parish,
I drink until i perish,
In beer my life i cherish,
I wish to make a wish,
Parish, perish, cherish, i wish,
We've never missed a bar gathering,
On several occasions you've missed a church meeting,
We pay all our dues to the bar tender,
You hardly give two percent tithe to the preacher,
So when we meet in hell spare me the greeting,
“Church” Isn’t the Answer! JESUS IS!
Many in church don’t know the sad shape we’re in!
There’s so many who are filled with a lot of sin!
A lot of pastors don’t preach as they ought to.
Preaching on God’s holiness? They simply “forgot to!”
Prayer meetings are replaced with social activities.
A place to gather and enjoy the “fun festivities.”
There’s “no use on preaching on the sin of today.”
“Why this may cause people to just walk away.”
What’s the purpose of church, and it’s meaning?
What kind of gospel are “church goers” believing?
Should we post “Ichabod…” “God’s glory has departed?”
Maybe we should do this, before the service has started!
If you’re doing something that you won’t speak of.
There’s sin in your life that you should be ashamed of!
Going to church isn’t the answer, or the key!
If you’re in bondage, and haven’t been SET FREE!
You need to come now! And kneel at the cross!
Surrender your life to Jesus! Whatever the cost!
Experience his presence and power within!
Know what it really means to be “BORN AGAIN!”
Experience a joyful relationship with Jesus, that’ll LAST!
He’ll wash your life clean, and wash out your past!
Religion will kill you! In Christ Jesus, you’re completed!
The victory can be yours! The enemy is defeated!
By Jim Pemberton 07/03/15
Musee d’Orsay grasps the hands of time.
The clock crowns; its gears move around.
Gallery-goers lookout and grin
from Paris-Orleans to Montmartre;
the clock crowns; its gears move around.
Each eye’s drawn from inside scenes
to the site of Sacré-Cœur without
then back again to the Degas.
Gallery goer’s lookout and grin
locked on the Place de la Concorde,
as the hand moves past a boat
on the still Seine, and the traffic
from Paris-Orleans to Montmartre.
Time passes; patron’s heads spin unwonted,
as the hands of the clockwork pass,
Monet’s lilies await—is there time?
*The Retourne a French form from the middle ages.
Published in Page & Spine 2015
Welcome! everybody now
Europeans, Italians and otherwise
Wild birds all set to crow
Intent on pretzels and gnocchi
Liters of beer and wine prevail
Local foods will make you drool
Party-goers in the groove gear up
Arriving with cheers - Huzza!
Returning guests and those on tour
Teetotalers too we will admit
You are welcome; come and stay
Lederhosen and dirndls, dress apparel
Initial parade complete with confetti
Kicks off the breweries' lark
Every first Sunday, a costume parade
Trendy tents offer entertainment
Historic foods, mostly deutsch
Even children enjoy rides and flume
Reservations you will prefer
Early evening tents may close
Should safety cause concerns
No first-timer can turn down
Ox on a spit and all things potato
Thrills last for more than a fortnight
Oompah music always crescendo
Munich Madness - groups perform
Oktoberfest yodeling, give it a go
Regulation insures your beer -
Real German malt lager
Official toast, “O'zapft is!” - Cheerio!
We will party like there’s no tomorrow
written as a double acrostic on November 7, 2016