Best Goode Poems


Premium Member Sometimes

Sometimes a song can take me back
Make my memories come alive
To a time when love was a way of life
And families struggled to survive
Sometimes I get a little mellow
When I listen to an old love tune	
And dream of days long gone 
How they passed by too soon
Sneaking my first cigarette
I don’t think that I was ten
And listening to the AM radio
While the Kalin Twins sang “When”
We grew up with real music
That helped us bear our heavy load
When Gogi sang “The Wayward Wind”
And Mitchum told us about “Thunder Road”
Sometimes when I’m down, I think about the past
And a different way of life
I’ll listen to Lloyd sing about “Stagger Lee”
Or Bobby relate the tale of “Mack The Knife”
There were a lot of question and a lot of answers
Some were wrong and some were right
Like “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose it’s Flavor
On the Bed Post Over Night”
Sometimes those songs bring a tear or two
But they always bring me joy
While Jimmy crooned “Just A Dream”
And the Shirelles loved their “Soldier Boy”
When Jim Ed Brown sang of “Scarlet Ribbons”
And Perry said, “Catch a Falling Star”
Dee Clark was calling “Hey Little Girl”
Johnny was thinking “Chances Are”
Sometimes I wish I could return 
To the days of my childhood
Just to hear Johnny Ray sing “Cry”
Or Chuck wail “Johnny B. Goode”
Jimmie sang about a “Honeycomb”
And “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine”
The Orlons were meeting on “South Street”
The Chiffons said “He’s So Fine.”
Skeeter thought it was “the End of The World”
Because she lost her one and only
The Beach Boys said “Don’t Worry Baby”
Roy Sang for “Only The Lonely”

Sometimes.

Archy

Oligarchy - From the Greek, olígos, meaning few,
	hence, those guys over there, with their 
	hands in their garments; They say they'll
	tell everyone what needs to be done.

Monarchy - Mon, variant of man, man being the 
	singular form, i.e. all for that guy. 

Hierarchy - From the Germanic heir, meaning "here"
	the ranking of relative importance, hence,
	where to stand in line to get a turn.

Democracy - From the Greek demos meaning many, and
	cracy, a variant of crazy, thus, many 
	crazy people rule, or in biblical terms, babble.

Ethnarchy - Meaning race, therefore, all those
	people, that all look and act and behave
	the same, tell the rest that they know best.

Anarchy - An, a variant of and, hence, another archy.

Malarkey - Those things that are to be put up
	with from all the other archys (and ocracies).
	
© Goode Guy 2013-06-30
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

In the Farmer's Song

so, i got to thinking
about all those words
planted in my language
where fertility grew them
to leave and stalk and pod

the farmer's words scatter
my fields like seed on clod
watered by thundering flashes
awash, fertilized and germinating

progeny seedlings, my own growth
in some time-lapse photography
writhing their creamy roots
into earthy loam and droning
on through a summer daze

into fruits of sweaty labors 
on humid chlorophylled days
silks sultry green, stalking me
through rows and rows as far
as i can see, if i squint

the farmer, suspended in time
stands with his hands in pocket
or on some implement toed to soil
and surveys life's prospects 
for this season, before the

days bake the green back into 
the humus and the cornucopia 
spills the field and orchard
this verse of the farmer's song
picked and stowed away cool

eyes closed now, ears gently
strain to hear, worldly phrasing
come from where? my larder
or some ancestor gleaning meaning
and dropping it into her apron

to carry home to hungry minds
to feed them something of today
and sustain them through a fallow
solstice and the chilled breeze

any cultivation harvested over
picked clean and harrowed flat
nearly time to plow it under again
while the farmer gazes the horizon
and sips something in his cup

© Goode Guy 2011-08-22
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.


Acquisition

no nation, no state, no corporation
no family, no self, no nebulous soul
enriches itself by acquisition
to gain its stuff but lose control

equality is the rule of life
because any thing that is acquired
must be relinquished by another
balancing the equation is required

the take or give we do to live
determines quality of fulfillment
with less is more, we're all in store
for days of joy and contentment

don't need no plane or border gain
to bring more meaning to our lives
believe the purpose is in the sharing
with friends and laughs we will survive

© Goode Guy 2012-08-16
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member If It Isn't Johnny B Appleseed!

I never round-or-flatly disagreed
with Johnny Appleseed,
so red, so crisp, so...quite. 
Never in the dawning, evening dawn
did I fly up or s*it upon...John James Audobon
in the evening, morning night. 

Ah, I'd never be rude or eat the food
of the pulchritudinous Johnny B Goode.
How could I?
And why would I harm 
odorless, flightless John Barleycorn 
or give him Spanish flea?

I'd sail the vast untarted sea,
or play drums obstreperously, 
with that flapjack, John Paul Jones,
but what kind of pancake would I be
if I revealed I was bigger than, by three, 
that wunderkind, John Holmes?

Would I ask Johnny on the Spot
for a rag to wipe my snot?
Unindubitably!
Would I surprise him with mascara,
or do the backstroke in marinara
like a mushroom in a noodly sea?

I'd be on time for Johnny Come Lately,
and eat bon bons till I sat, oblately,
under the midday moon. 
I'd tell Johnny Carson, "That's a wrap"
and neatly wrap my dog's crap
up with cellophoone.

What about John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, 
that diaphanous, novelty hit? 
Would I blast him with the guns of Navarone
under a sky that sticks like the glue
of a colorless, humid, hue?
Would I deny him a raisin scone?
No! 

When Johnny Comes Marching In gets home,
I'd serve him grits and iridescent cornpone,
and sit him on my knee.
Then I give him a lavender shout,
and set up an appointment for my gout,
superciliously.

Would I ask John the Baptist to convert?
No, I'd offer him some camembert
and crackers!
And the sprightly John the Apostle?
I'd offer him a waffle.
and crackers 
(for dessert).

Oh John Keats, dear clapboard poet - you left too soon,
before I could offer you a macaroon,
or anything that leaves a crumb.
There's a reason I asked you for tea. 
Give me a sign.  Tell me honestly,
do you think I'm a doofus - dopey, dippy, daft and dumb?

Would I pull the leg or make fun...or steal a tart, chocolate eclair, pineapple upside down cake or cinnamon bun
from the beetle, John Winston Lennon?
Nope, I imagine I wouldn't, in truth, 
but I'd surely pull the tooth
of the weevil John Wilkes Booth
under the midnight sun.

That Sound Alone

"shhhhh.....shissssssh"
"be quiet"...whispered
"Can you hear that?"
.
.
"What is that sound?"

Is it far...a faraway
train whistle lonesome
from song of mainline?

Is it the soft ting
of the tea kettle 
cooling on the stove, 
bending it's metal?

"What is that sound?"

It is the slow creak
of old wooden chairs
as mortise and tenon
slowly adjust, torqued 
to a shifting weight.

Could be a mantle
clock tiptoe ticking
away Sunday afternoon.
Why don't they make
digital clocks tick?

Is it that catlike scratch
of the Autumn branch
gently scraping the window?

"What is that sound?"

It is the hushed hum
of computer fan lulling
a digital brain.

The Venetian blinds
rhythmically tap half-open 
double-hung windows.

The vibrating whir
of some electric motor
compressing or orbiting
the periodic table.

Mountains of Quaking Aspen
leaves relaxing the winds.

When is alone welcome
and when is it forlorn?

The weight of near silence,
light as the dust that
floats the sunlit room,
or heavy as a cardiac
anvil under ancient
spreading Chestnut tree.

Did the bell toll at
the village church,
ringing all comers
to awake momentarily, or
was that just tinnitus?

Unable to open eyes,
sounds belie surroundings
and alone might be 
fallacy or welcome.

Deceptive senses afoot
in the stirrup, and hammer
tapping anvil might only
be a mindful dream.

© Goode Guy 2011-06-13
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member A Shot of Haiku -Chain-

Haiku Chain

Presents wrap by tree
babies first Christmas is here
jet stream follows sleigh ~~by; Royal

jet stream follows sleigh 
Santa's bag floats ocean unknown 
cap is in Spain  ~~by; Goode Guy

cap is in Spain
it blew over the ocean
beating rhythm flows ~~by; Andrea Dietrich  

beating rhythm flows
unnoticed tiny black spot
fly, fly, ride high winds ~~by; Nathan Dilts

fly, fly, ride high winds
bring in the New Year, hurry… 
a parrot shows up  ~~by; Annalise Brigham

a parrot shows up
the world was never so right
as I feel refresh   ~~by; S.Jagathsimhan Nair

as I feel refresh
breeze blows with soothing effect  
as birds fly higher  ~~by; olusegun Arowolo 

as birds fly higher
their iridescent feathers
ribbons in the sky   ~~by; David Williams  

ribbons in the sky
soft whistling pretty lights dance
to sing like a bird   ~~by; Tracie, Indigo Dreamweaver 

to sing like a bird
constrained within emotions
give me liberty  ~~by; David Williams  

give me liberty   
sweet vertigo dizziness 
the flight takes up space  ~~by; Poet Destroyer
 

the flight takes up space
come and join the view today
birds fly around me   ~~by; Poet Destroyer
 
birds fly around me 
brown grey with a glowing force
the moon as haze ends  ~~by; Poet Destroyer

the Moon As Haze Ends 
crashing On The Horizon 
with The Rising Sun  ~~ by; Christopher Bunton

With the rising sun 
celebrate the coming home 
maybe peace will reign  ~~by; cecil hickman 

maybe peace will reign
in the silent world this day
all is calm and bright  ~~by; Deb Wilson 

all is calm and bright
just me in my Xmas hat 
and loving all night   ~~by; Michael J. Falotico

and loving all night
this a welcome of pure light
power of the wind   ~~by; harry horsman

power of the wind 
a new year begins again
first let's celebrate ~~by; Catie Lindsey

first let's celebrate 
the sweet air brings me your scent 
now I know your here ~~by; Michael J. Falotico

now I know your here
Staring out the window,  
upon a (choo) choo train  ~~by; John Rhinem

upon a (choo) choo train
steam blows, lumps in my stocking 
charcoal grey mittens  ~~by; poet destroyer

charcoal grey mittens
the two of us are rocking
choo choo train chuckles  ~~by; S.Jagathsimhan Nair
 
Team Work -created this haiku chain

Ogden Ash

I think that I may never see a
tree's sounds lovely as onomatopoeia

to see, to hear, just too profound
sound beats cool on worded ground

ain't it funny to hear a word
that IS what it is, coolly absurd

you may ask what constitutes onomatopoeia
can't say exactly, but hear it when I see it

© Goode Guy 2014-01-03

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Onomatopoeia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joyce_Kilmer
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ogden_Nash
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Metadata

remember it's not the "actual" data
it's only the metadata, but we
never met a data we didn't love
there's treasure in detritus debris

with intense Holmesian determination
we'll be able to infer and deduce
some linked reference, some correlation
between pointed data bits obtuse

government or company or corporation
don't matter the size of digital scrap
data microscope will reveal motivation
wanted are all of the small bits of crap

listing phone logs, search queries and such
myriad IP addresses and email recipients 
to squirrel away with the lightest of touch
GPS Lat-Long located and databased insidious

to imply we spy on domestics is irrational
since we're "multi-national" by determiner
we're only looking at the "foreign nationals"
'course from "over there" you're the foreigner

you see there's nowhere to run away
no thought too trivial or secret to reveal
what networked digital crumbs can convey
is what gives metadata its big data appeal

© Goode Guy 2013-08-22
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

To Have Do-Be-Do

"To do is to be" - Descartes 
"To be is to do" - Voltaire 
"Do be do be do" - Frank Sinatra

"To do is to be" - Nietzche
"To be is to do" - Kant
"Do be do be do" - Sinatra

"To do is to be" - Jean-Paul Sartre
"To be is to do" - Socrates
"Do be do be do" - Sinatra

Seems that existence is existential
but scattin' folderol's merely elemental
a difference of opinion well to quote
no matter, whatever floats your boat

who knows where Billy Shakespeare fits
with all his "to be or not"
who really thinks about it alot?
i mean the truth is easy to omit

Blue Eyes croons best improvise
New Year's resolutions to re-revise
have always been a tenuous tie
declared intentions, oft run awry

yet it's fitting that we promise fit
and work our workout 'til we quit
and promise to try to get outta debt
something promised every year as yet

so let it lie just as it lies
the year will tick off I'd surmise
we'll come back again to improvise
to have, to be, to do, to deny

© Goode Guy 2012-01-08

actually several forms...
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Flowers Are For Living

see the roses, red and white
see the glads, serene and noble
the bouqueted mums, radiant and bright
see the orchids, beautifully boastful

smell the scents for all intents
pulling our memory back in time
remembering joys from past events
family and friends, the days sublime

petals soften life's hard terms
the leaves greening up the day
the pollen sits on stamen's tips
reminding, life carries on, what may

flowers are for the living
from the wellspring of existence
remembered, even in our grieving
blooming our hearts to reminiscence

© Goode Guy 2011-12-13

for a dear friend
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Count On It

count on it...

that numbers made the world
we came to believe
after all ten digits 
long ago ran out
and we stuck our toes into the fray
to count and be counted anyway

and they too ran out
a foot at a time
and numbers became stuck to 
our rulers feet or by meter, 
our sole, soul repeater

then we counted awhile,
and soon wired some beads 
to a wooden frame
'cause, unconsciously we knew
it'd never be the same

and abacuses counted because
Sumerians knew the power of
columns of orders of magnitude to 
give counting a certain, amplitude

and soon balances were forged and 
everything compared to something else - 
grain to sheep,
sheep to amphora,
amphora to slaves,
slaves to children
children to wives
neighbors lives to our own lives

covetousness counted as 
a capital idea
long before Adam Smith
or any form of mercantilism
came to bear witness on a weakness of man

yet who can count on power
is there a conversion factor
that shows more or less
that less is more than some detractor

what's the ratio of 
desire to need to
redemption to volition to
love to life - 
there's a number of ways to count it

© Goode Guy 2013-04-11
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

There Once Was

there once was...

there once was a rooster from Nantucket
with vocal stylin's, it only could cluck it
it cocked and it crowed
strutin' loud 'round abode
'til the farmer's wife's axe did awestruck it

© Goode Guy 2013-01-28
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Poetry Slammin'

poetry slammin'

all this namby pamby poetry stuff
makes me think i've heard enough

shapes and sonnets and simple blank verse
even Iambic meter leaves me feeling averse

quatrains and couplets - the villanelle
are tough to swallow - sounds like swill

why anybody'd wanna hear some poetry
may be obvious to you, but it's way beyond me

all this writing and saying of wimpy words
to ants, elephants and me, seems absurd

can i comfortably feed my family and friends
with some onomatopoeia's epilogue's ends?

will Will's sonnet's of love so medieval
aid with the world's unrest and upheaval?

naw, i'm pretty sure it won't make it no better
probably it'll jus' make my mood blacker

i remember my tenth grade English teacher
who rhymed as standard operating procedure 

as you might guess, this drove me crazy 
you'd think i'm anti-rhyme - but don't be hasty

i'm really into today's rappin' scene
D.J.'s thrashin' and soundin' obscene

if bling's the thing, then bring it on i say
words golden rule brings my groove into play

of lines and times and mashin' thrashin'
calving rhymes cleaved leave us laughing

so ya wanna be a slammer? - it's cool with me
jus' slam the mike, but pick up your debris

don't leave no crumpled words layin' 'round
on the stage or the sidewalk, some unsaid sound

'cause I don't wanna clean up after you
and slam off the cuff with your impromptu

i got my own stance and rhythm and cachet
i'll jus' tell the whole world - i'm slammin' ok?

© Goode Guy 2012-06-04
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Chicken's Chicken Soup

chicken soup for the chicken
when the egg starts to thicken
when the yoke's rollin' right
when the white's clear 'n' bright

when the roosters sittin' roostin'
when the hen's right for a'goosin'
when the coop's are all a'coupin'
when said rooster ain't a'droopin'

when the desire's too demandin'
an' all else is notwithstandin'
an' chicken's tongue's unbeaked to cluck
an' sip the soup of what the - heck

that's what makes the chicken flutter
an' Grand Ma don't cook it no better

...that's why the hen crossed the road

© Goode Guy 2014-02-19
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

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