Best Goings On Poems
I was five years old when the war was over
August, 1945, and my daddy sent word
He was on his way home from Guadalcanal.
Grandma was already preparing a feast
For the family to celebrate his homecoming.
Momma took her last ration token from the box
She kept high on the kitchen counter cabinet
And filled up the old, worn-down Chevy with gas
So she could pick up my daddy at the bus stop.
Everyone was super excited except for me.
You see, I could not remember this man.
I didn’t know this person coming into my life--
Why was everyone so excited?
He had been gone to war since I was a baby.
The only man in my life was my grandpa.
One uncle was fighting with Patton in Italy;
Another was somewhere in Japan, we thought.
I tried to ignore the party goings-on,
And I reckoned I would make the best of it.
I was climbing the sour cherry tree next to the porch
When this man I did not know came up the hill.
He had a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder;
He wore a white uniform with a strange hat--
“A navy man,” he later told me, and he said, “I
Will make a navy man out of you!”
Later I heard Momma saying she’d taken
The last token to buy gas she hadn’t needed to.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written 3/22/2021
for the "Last Token" contest
sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
As I set out
To jot down this poem
I had no earthly idea
Of what would transpose
And who all would be
Joining along
I'm as surprised as you
To these goings on
I don't recollect
Any of this being nearby
All the glimmer and glamor
Catching my eye
With my mind letting loose
In the wondering why
All of these characters
Are invading my rhymes
There are seals riding trikes
Uniformed Taiwanese
Clowns and their like
With smiley faced knees
Lepords in tights
Like we need more of these
A Kardashian or two
To put our minds at ease
Daryl Hall and John Oates
Singing loud 80's tunes
And what would be a poem
Without a cow jumping over the moon
Or a chimpanzee
Swinging through the stanzas with ease
Using the tails of snakes
Like a flying trapeze
There's even a racoon
By the name of Rocky we know
Using his Boogaloo
To sweep dust from the poem
And look it's Bob Hope
Selling soap on a rope
To keep it all clean
With a rated "G" tone
With so much going on
Inside of this poem
Guess it's best I stop here
As this has gotten rather long...
10 DOWNING STREET
Six years ago on 10 Downing Street,
Tourists by the score we did meet,
Fascinated by the pomp and splendor
England’s Political leader, in his famous home,
Safe from the crowds, having tea
A discreet meeting at
This Historical house,
Trumpets, guards, I didn’t care
About a sign that said “Beware,
Horses may kick or bite”,
I stroked his nose in spite,
Of the sign,
This horse was adorable, a fine
Regal animal who sniffed my hand,
I felt honored, so grand,
Not about the goings on around me,
But that the horse and I connected,
I immediately loved him, infatuated!
Thank You said the sign at the end,
All I knew I found a life long friend.
I have never forgotten that horse
I let love take it’s sad course,
And had to say goodbye,
But she maybe he and I,
Would remember
That day in September,
Where among the pomp and splendor,
A horse and human secretly bonded,
Despite a sign, written boldly, a warning,
Not to go near,
But I showed no fear,
The absolute highlight of our holiday,
Despite a slight drizzle and a grey
Sky it was my
Moment, my horse!
The spring was on the way
time for the farmer to plough
straight lines running parallel
gleaming in the rich red loam
It had laid all winter waiting
now it was time to sow and seed
yellow mustard glinting in the sun
so pretty as it grows in leaps and bounds
Little animals made their home
borrows in between the roots
even a dormouse always sleepy
soon they scurry off as harvest begins
Harvesters hard at work birds feasting
on those that were far too slow
crops are now gathered in and stored
the horses fallow the field now it rests
This spring the field will remain fallow
all part of the master plan of rotation
it's life is simple following a four year plan
to maximize each year's yield without stress
Following being fallow potatoes go in
these help clear the land of weeds
while adding goodness to the soil
then the golden wheat which the land depletes
Last to go in will be turnips for feed
completing a long term cycle of crops
If it could talk many tales it would tell
of all of the goings on within it's boundaries
I walked past my pantry
Late one Friday night
To the sounds of what appeared to be
The goings on of a party inside
I grabbed a hold the latches
Swung wide open the door
With absolutely no earthly idea
Of what was soon in store
Colorful lights were flashing
Somewhere in the back
I moved aside the ketchup and mayo
To see where it was at
I took out the pickles and saltine's
So I could better see
What all the commotion was inside
Of my food pantry
That's when I saw the flashing lights
Inside the jar of Nutella
I picked it up right away
Me being a some what curious fella
As I held it at eye level
It vibrated in my hands
In what felt like a driving rhythm
From a 70's Disco band
Can't say I wasn't nervous
As I loosened up the lid
No telling what was going on inside
What dangers lay ahead
With both hands slightly shaking
I removed the rounded top
There was a party in the making
And it was going on non stop
The Nutella had it's boogie on
Or if you prefer, it's groove
Whatever you wish to call it
A party was the mood
There was a strobe light and confetti
Even a tiny Disco ball
As I gazed over the edge of the jar
I saw banners wall to wall
I guess you could say Nutella
Is quite the party treat
That may cost you at the grocery store
But once home the cover charge is free
'Tis said that Mercury is in retrograde.
Is it just an astrophysical charade —
An illusory cosmic joke being played?
Is the wee beggar's energy bill unpaid?
How does one remain engaged with life, so incomplete
Gaping holes in mind and heart, will have you take a seat
From there, you're left to fence the goings on throughout the day
Observing in third person, what you do and feel and say
Exhausted, you will hide and find a place to rest your head
Remains whirl round inside, while lying still upon your bed
Inevitably moving, subjects bring you to comply
To live, out in a world so lacking, you could wish to die
TELL ME IT'S NOT TRUE, OR TELL ME YOU KNOW SHE GOES ON!
TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER I WILL RAIL THAT IT WAS WRONG!
EVEN IF IT'S TRUE AND YOU KNOW BEST WHAT'S MEANT TO BE!
I'LL TELL YOU WE LOST BEAUTY HERE THAT WE DESERVED TO SEE!
Madness stills and mundane forces push you to advance
So off you go to follow in this unfamiliar dance
And as the world now plays the saddest tune you've ever heard
You realize you're listening and hearing all the words
The fish know I’m coming
Turtles line the logs
Swans parade in pre-game frenzy
Geese honk from the cheep seats
Muskrat groundskeepers tend the “field”
Bullfrog-voiced announcers “harrumph” the goings on
Dragonfly vendors work the crowd
The fish know I’m coming
The game is on…….
John G .Lawless
©6/11/2017
After the card game that took place in the Bearagroves one day,
One of the Bully Frogs decided to come to our Troll pond, to play.
He was such a cute thing, though rather large for a Bully frog.
Still, he was most particular in what he ALWAYS repeatedly said…
Each day that summer, as I came out to give daily lessons to the Trolls.
The Bully Frog would take a look at me, and simply say… W-I-E-R-D.
By the end of the lessons, the baby orphan Troll, was usually fast asleep.
So as I’d tucked his blanket around him, with his club, upon which to teethe…
The Bully frog would come up, to look at me, and simply said… W-I-E-R-D.
You’re welcome to join the lessons, I replied each and every day.
But the response was always the same, W-I-E-R-D, before he hopped away.
Never did I ever hear, the normal sounds, that come from Bully frogs…
Till one day, I found more than three-dozen frogs sitting at the Troll pond.
Shocked at the number, I ask if they wanted to join the lessons, again…
But, up jumped a frog, which looked up at me and again exclaimed, W-I-E-R-D.
So I turned to him and asked him why, he kept saying I was so W-I-E-R-D?
The closest one, turned and said, ‘Because YOU are just SO, my dear…’
‘You know, you DO tutor Trolls A-N-D are now TALKING to Bully Frogs…’
He continued ‘I went home and told my family, who EACH had to come along… ‘
‘Especially, after you came one day to the Bearagrove like a crazy, wild thing…’
Apparently, I had been seeing a new Bully frog each and every day.
And I had to agree it’s a little strange… All the goings on, that come my way.
Perhaps… I really AM a LITTLE bit W-I-E-R-D, as they so like to say…
But now, I can add a whole lot of: ‘W-I-E-R-D’ talking frogs to that... each day!
The human body was built with a stretching ability. Skin and muscles are very elastic and prepared for adversities. Bones can be fractured and broken, but mends back in time. Ache me; bend me; mend me; brake me; mane me; pain me; I bounce back. Everything within me connects, communicates, and confers with each other. But I am wondering about 'the goings on' of a can of corn, if dented. If a dent is made in a can of corn, does it force the kernels to draw closer together? It's like this. While cleaning our food closet one day, I overheard a most interesting dialogue between designated speakers for the corn and the water.
"What just happened here?" said the whole kernel can of corn to the water in the can. "I felt a deep stump that shook us as you moved like a high tidal wave." "I know! said the water, it was as if someone just threw us into a large tote of other cans". "I don't know what's going on here, but I sure wish it would stop. We have feelings too?" They seem to care more about a dent in their cars than one in a can containing their food supply. Go figure".
After a pause, the corn kernel said, "Anyway, the dent they caused just took away some of our already crowded space. Moreover, I suspect before long someone will come looking to eat us, notwithstanding the dent in the can. Until then we'll just have to deal with the way things are. "On the other hand, said the water, they might decide to eat us as a last resort, like when things are bad and money is tight. In that way we'll last longer. I must say that as a result of our can being dent, not only have we both been stirred, but we have been forced to communicate like humans do. Maybe we'll also learn to bounce back like humans". And the corn kernel said, "Perhaps so, and I guess if you are going to get eaten, later is better for us."
12242017 PS Contest, Dented Cans, John Lawless (Personification)
The creaking sound on the steps
on ascending the platform to the door
matching those of buzzing bees and crickets
that serenade through the fading lights
streaming through the leafy filigree
The door opened and a middle aged man
greeted me and called me in
the thud thud of heels on wood
as we moved into the drawing room
wall shelves full of books
reading table and sofa set
We sat down and held the cups
chatting on literary topics and politics
lanterns shading the shape of our faces
casting shadows on the floor
He lived alone and away
from social groups; the urban milieu.
shielded from the goings-on
the mad race to out-maneuver
acquiring money and winning elections
as the panacea of all ills.
As I left him in the cover of the night
i wondered if he would continue
to savor the closeness to the green
or wait for the urbania to extend
to gradually extinguish the woods.
To much cable tv
I think the house is haunted.
I hear things in the night.
The landing gives out creaks.
Enough to give me frights.
There"s something in the attic.
Coldness in the rooms.
I"m sure there"s witches out there.
Who fly past on there brooms.
My mother thinks i"m silly.
An overactive mind.
I refuse to sleep in darkness.
I"m in an awkward bind.
I watch to much tv.
That cable is to blame.
The Grudge and then The Ring.
There"s two I want to name.
They churn out all this horror.
That I must say I likie.
I"m up till after midnight.
Filling up my psyche.
It scares me half to death.
So when I go to bed.
Instead of going to sleep.
It goes round in my head.
But I must put a stop.
To nocturnal goings on.
Deadly psycho stalkers.
Those zombie killer dawns.
I"ll stick to my own age group.
No more the eighteen plus.
Switch on cartoon network.
It wont cause a fuss.
Go back to reading books.
Be in my bed for nine.
Great to switch the light on.
Everything is fine.
Oh who am I trying to kid.
There"s no point living a lie.
I"m just like everyone else.
An ordinary guy!
I love you cable tv .
Like a man he loves a wife.
You have to understand.
Cable is my LIFE!
For fifteen years I’ve watched the world,
Seen the flags of ‘we’ versus ‘them’ unfurled,
I may be young, but don’t you underestimate,
The potential I have to overcome, and to dominate.
It seems the powers that be are perturbed,
Their once firm grip on society is disturbed,
For what they miscalculated, or failed to see,
Is that overbearing control does not earn loyalty.
So despite all the censors, the rules, and the lies,
The chaos is growing right before our eyes,
Though we paid for ‘security’ with voluntary cuffs,
There will come a time when the people have enough.
When **** hits the fan, what would you prefer?
To get information from the source, or use the media to infer?
To infer the truth about the goings-on around you,
To know before things happen, and understand the ‘why’ too?
We’re now at a crossroad, a difficult decision,
One road is normality, the other is broadening my vision,
I can live out my life and fulfill normal goals;
I can change my direction and be at the controls.
And though neither is right and neither is wrong,
The question remains, how would you carry along?
Each option results in its own implications,
The effects of this choice could be seen for generations.
Although I am still pondering what I should do,
This crossroad will also pan out before you.
And so, choose wisely which path you will seek,
But commit to it fully, this choice is unique.
Since moving to our brand new home
There's things I haven't found
Like my pair of pearly white dentures
And Dufus our basset hound
Still haven't located my tightie whities
People are holding their noses
Till I find 'em gonna use lots of cologne
And carry a bouquet of roses
Now certain things take top priority
Like oil for my artificial leg
The damn thing squeaks unmercifully
“FIND THAT OIL!” Cathie begs
The kitchen stuff's in the living room
We're sleeping out on the lawn
Neighbours are peering out their windows
Expecting some “goings on”!
All things considered we're doing fine
Minor inconveniences they are
We'll soon be sleeping in out of the rain
And be happy campers, by gar!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Ole’ Humpty Dumpty, is in a ridiculous scramble
Out of the eggshell, and into a scandal
After sitting so high on the throne of conceit
His place in the government, now heads for defeat!
Convinced that sweet Alice, with her wiggling hips
Was too willing a partner, ...he will not admit
Of his unfair advantage, while his staff listened at doors
And heard goings on from the governor's mall
While forgetting his family, no conscience at all!
Teetering, he sat in his delicate shell
Bragging and flaunting, ….and that wasn’t all!
Till he fell into the vat of a chemical spill
While wishing to fire, those spies that will tell
Stones built without mortar, out of rocks that would crumble
He tumbled and spiraled down into the mud
His life flashed before him, like other flashers before
Like Arnold, the hound dog, that thespian fox
And Edwards, still bruised from a cradle that rocked
Now all the kings’ horses, and all the kings’ men
Wondered if Humpty can climb up again
But they rode off like thunder, they won’t be caught under
The waves of a scandal….if he blunders again!!
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