Best Haggled Poems
New city street
With the wink of an eye
and a shuffle of feet
We wandered about
down a new city street
Where vendors wore blue
with a tangerine sash
In hopes to look good
with no chance it would clash
Their carts were adorned
with ribbons and beads
And funny designs
made of cantaloupe seeds
They hollered and bellowed
and beckoned us near
And when we did stop,
they let out a loud cheer
They offered us products
like peanuts with cheese
And daffodil handkerchiefs
in case we sneeze
Belts made of feathers
with buckles in red
And weird little cones
you could wear on your head
We bid and we haggled
but always were nice
To get a good deal
and a much better price
The street lined with houses,
most two stories high
With windows like shamrocks
reflecting the sky
The balconies all featured
ribbons and bows
That hung from the railings
such colorful throws
Where women were calling
to neighbors across
For clothes pins and hampers
they hoped they would toss
They spoke in a language
so funny to hear
For what they were saying
was not always clear
The men were all mending
and tending the place
Their hats cockled sideways,
a grin on their face
The knees of their jeans
were all covered in patches
While they polished the brass
on the handles and latches
It seems they were singing
an old fashioned song
We tried to join in
as we walked right along
We laughed and we giggled
so much fun was had
But we had to leave
and that made us both sad
So we promised each other
that we both would meet
Again very soon
on this new city street
There was a fussy old toad, yes; some might call him, a curmudgeon, at soul.
When his ladylove died, he took it in stride, and sought someone else to pester.
Eventually, he came to our lake, and jumped on the Troll Bridge, quite blazon.
Trouble in his eyes, he met the trolls, eye for eye, and with strength, blustered.
“I’m King of the Hill”, he spat out, ignoring the clubs and frowns… all about.
Grandpa Troll looked at the toad, and got ready to do battle, quickly…at that.
I chimed in, “They’re renters my dear. You’ll have to fight me, it’s clear. So dropout.”
“And I’m too worn out, for a silly old toad, who jumps like a gnat, now, scat.”
“I’ll have this bridge”, he said, “I’ll fight you anywhere, so be very, greatly, prepared.”
“I’m worn-out”, I said, “But battle we will. I’ll win! So look where you tread, instead.”
I said,“You challenged me first, so I’ll pick the test, you’ll play Grandpa Troll at Chess”.
Amazement filled the toads eyes, but to my surprise, he took the bait. Rather smart.
Now Grandpa Troll is a whittler. “I’ll commission your own home bridge, if he loses.”
“At the end of the lake, you’ll have a home place. If you lose, you’ll learn to whittle!”
The old toad looked me over, and with a frown, then ask, “What good is whittling?”
“You could make a chess board like no other, Toads verses Trolls, in war forever!”
He agreed that was quite a stake! And knew he couldn’t lose, the old reprobate!
Still he haggled, to strike a better bargain, and he Hee Hawed around for more.
Now, Grandpa Troll had never lost a game. Still we upped the ante, just the same.
“If you lose, I’ll build you a home bridge… if you teach the youngun’s, chess, instead.”
Now, he was sold! So off they did go, playing chess and whittling, by the seasons.
You know, I’m trying to be a writer, but the interruptions seem to always get harder!
So as you can see… With situations and things such as these …
I’ll just have to keep trying harder, and harder…
There has been news about piracy in the high seas...
And here is news about a nefarious activity you don't see...
People go missing in action off the waters of Philippines...
And then the cat and mouse game of high stakes begins...
While some families agonise over their missing loved ones....
Going by the news, the border security patrol force was duly informed...
But this I wonder, looks like the sovereign security patrols fail once again...
With a dusk to dawn curfew in force, was there a lapse in security yet again...
Was it a case of lax security or was it a case of one attempt too many...
Border Patrol boasted it has thwarted double digits of attempts that were so many...
Is this latest affront to sovereign securty a reminder we cannot escape kidnap attempts...
When we have for our neighbours bandits who sees us not as human beings...
Catch some Malaysians, then began a hide and seek game in the jungles of Philippines..
Next is a couple of months of various seek n find missions involving the governments....
And negotiations in earnest then begins , builds up to a critical delicate point ...
For money in a few tens of millions, freedom and lives can be traded to a point...
Should negotiations fell through or deadlines are missed, death to the victims ...
Often it's slow death by beheading under the guise of fanatical religious belief...
Hoping for religious sympathies to condone a blatant cruel act against humanity..
When in essence it was all a well disguised despicable act of kidnapping...
Treating fellow humans as human cattle to be traded and prices haggled...
While playing God and pretending to be God's warriors when talks are bungled...
Claiming every unfortunate victim's life in the name of the Islam religion...
Thinking in their warped religious fervour they are on the pathway up to Heavens...
These terrorists, they can be no other, terrorise the international community...
With such blatant organised crimes of inhumanity with such impunity...
Maybe vigilante squads in the Philippines is the final solution....
Thousands of drug peddlars and merchants are dead by executions...
Looks like therein lies a possible solution, storm the dense jungles...
Cash rewards for vigilante squads killing terrorists in the jungles....?
SECRETS IN THE KEEP
Secrets, secrets ------ secrets in the Keep; maidens call them without which they
shall meet, of the baron and his bride a solemn meet, sordid secrets,
secrets in the Keep
A wizard's spell, a call of bell and peal, chimes and trumpets
the courtyard round, princess-pretty prince and horseback riding; jumping
brushes and endless jumps, then at last confiding ------
the wizard's wicked coniving
Brick and mortar and stone thrice born, eaves of swollen vine above the tower
corner, sneaking windows and fingered leafy-ropes reaching out; climbing
wooden portals to keep the monarch without ------ the palace walls, the royal
halls and pallisade stalls, rolling hills in distances afar
Trapped, amidst leering buzzards abound, feeding to feed on king and queen,
eyes from walls, eyes in the deep ----- dark earth of smitten Keep, Shadow
wakened... wakened from sleep
The heart of many sorrow down, unwakened from sleep; rise they may, rise they
shall, one by one as they do not slay... never so soon must they stay the hearts
of men fast, lucid mind and with heavy task ----- stay the peace, o be it so to
everlasting end
Naught is written on but a few of every brow, stay the peace? asks the haggled
plea of many soul, wrought to bitter end, unsheathed to war and revolution,
their solace but a solution for kings this night; one rose above the dreary
doom lit light, sheathed aplenty in golden hue, and addressing himself he
gave a sting and hello, for he spoke truth to every soul
Yet the heart be that it may, overwhelmed and possessed to pillage and slay,
to teach them and baron ----- the villains from the east, a lesson this day,
the king rose up and spoke, calmly and hoped ----- it be not they to decide
the fate of kings; offering peace in place of baneful hope
Though always, secrets, secrets ----- secrets in the keep...
Should I have so many nights as these?
so starry and beauteous bright?
moon hung like silver(an) shine;
breeze eased with earthen mood,
the leaves rustle with lyric....
chimed, with the bustle neath
pinked-rose sky:
Everywhere voices, and smiles ----
pretty girls....
soft little lights,
winking atop heavenly spires
As if a generous balmy-goddess
and her garden of sugar,
rose and peach and cinnamon
sweet, apple pie fermented
earth about:
like a lovers' kiss
Even the brazen haggled man,
cornered out;
pockets filled a little more,
widened smile
(such glint in the eye!)
Like silver(an) shine ----
he knows this be the last
of so many nights,
Starry and beauteous bright....
pinked-rose sky....
I need nothing
But the red setting sun
And to rest easy in the palm of night
With the prairie’s cool arms around me.
I came in on dirty horse hooves
And lonely cowboys’ hats,
Blown far away from the cities
Where houses and bridges rise up.
I say nothing.
Old wooden fences and barbed wire
Can’t keep me out,
A scarf tied in a knot at the chin,
For I am in the wind.
You will find me
On children’s feet in late summer.
The farmer’s wife sweeps me out,
But I creep under her door
And hide in her cupboards.
I am not afraid of the chimneys
With their blue billowing towers.
For I am a bucket of ash in winter.
You have seen me
Lingering over corn fields, tall and upright,
Sticking to tassels and ears.
In the evening hours I am the dusk.
The farmer stuffs his hogs until they waddle.
He hacks them with cleavers
And hangs them on hooks.
I say nothing.
I have been driven out by the axe
That claims the timber
And I bite at the plow.
I cling to the wolf’s throat, choking.
It is I who holds all things together.
I was there on dark days
Among the killings of young men.
I was the last survivor
When wars were fought.
I say nothing.
The rain and the sun and the wheat
Have haggled it over.
The rainbow in the east pledges
And the Colorado River boasts;
They will wash me away.
I flourish where the old things go,
Covering the writings on head stones.
It is all mine eventually.
She was going, going, going
Going for a song
When I heard that engine running
I knew she was the one
Well how could I resist her
She was sweeter than a song
The price was right, she was going cheap
Yeah’ she was going for a song
I was thinking of the summertime
Thought this soft top could be fun
I didn’t come tyre kicking
No I never haggled with the sum
She was going, going, going
Going for a song
When I heard that engine running
I knew she was the one
Sometimes were not searching
When surprizes come our way
This sporty little classic
Just simply blew me away
Wow’ what a steal I was thrilled
I never expected this
Bargains don’t come everyday
Especially not like this
She was going, going, going
Going for a song
When I heard that engine running
I knew she was the one
She was mint inside and out
Her paint gleaming like the sun
It must have been my lucky day
She still had miles to run
She was on the button
On the money too
Yeah’ she was going for a song
That came right out the blue
She was going, going, going
Going for a song
Yes this motor was a blessing
Always dreamed of owning one
© Copyright KC.Leake
28th February 2017
All Rights Reserved
Visions Beyond the Horizon
The doctor incised the umbilical cord, the nurse held him by heel,
They waited; the baby cried not; the nurse nudged and he giggled;
The baby giggled again; new mom laughed; doctors just haggled;
The new age baby breathed normal; ancient medic annals to heal
Had no entries; baby crying on first breath norm, they had a ***** feel;
Like POTUS, medics threw up arms, helpless to his tantrum. Cuddled
By mom, he slept and giggled, never cried for milk. With heads muddled
They fiddled with the issue; he woke up giggling, laughing for family weal;
But it was strange, people thought it his harangue; he was deranged,
Some claimed. He crawled around sparring worries with laughing queries,
And it was strange, people thought. Their frowns chilled the entire loving bond,
And in expiation the mom showed the cradle, as they stood like dolls disarranged
In Walmart malls, waiting to be billed; the infant spoke, dispelling all their queries
And opened their minds; with closed eyes, they saw visions from horizons beyond!
iii
A wiley post this early freeze fast makes
Making hard the sugarcane, shedding bright flakes
That covers the city, rivers, streets, and trees
The jet streams cold and meandering breeze,
Wasaburo's joy make us know our frail
Powers limit, we're stranded in its gale.
Tween shifts of spheres, "We are coming soon,
Convenient theories of the moon
Holds not with planned expectations" we weep
While gnawing to the bone these zephyrs seep
Crude power deserts us, the white ruin
Of farmers, changes the cold cashier's tune.
Lord, in time more subtle changes I see
Dreams wilt in time, now comes eternity.
iv
It is more than a sizzling globe's convictions:
Weather changes and earth's rotations.
My soul looks up steadfast in sweet faith
The changes are openings of heaven's gate
And some who keeps a homeless vigil stirs
Barren of bed, false friendships, and dead furs
Leave us cankered of feelings, blurred of trust
We stagger on through whiffs of whitening gust
To find our berth that drives us daily here
Harassed and haggled denouncing despair
Lost is Christ control of the moral lust
O, flaking, worn, weary, the brittle crust
Void, no seed grows here, barren our cold heart
Empty this winter scape, earth falls apart.
Those wooden meant to for all season,
Blue painted motored boats beacon,
Us to calm green sea waters,
To sail on and that’s all that matters.
The calm green waters dolphin rides,
Deep inside when the tide subsides.
Eight pals and two sailors sailed on
On a boat with the rent haggled upon.
Two and a half miles have gone,
Into the waters we sail on,
Squealing and giggling in delight,
Adrenalin pumped up and over excite.
The motor the sailor cuts off,
Over and over with a bit of scoff,
The dolphins they say swim and are gone
By the dull sounds of the motor whirr &drone.
Waves they splash frothy sprays
On the bodies bathed in hot sunrays,
Shrills cries of joy erupt,
From us sightseers eight on a glimpse of dolphins seen abrupt.
The wet bath suits and sun tans,
Some with hand held beer cans,
Watch the dolphins frolic in the sea
Cavorting in graceful curves both she and he.
The sailor maneuvers you to the place
Of marine life ,pelagic birds his boat with grace,
The sight of these magnificent mammals,
Feeding and playing their bodies look coated with enamel.
The thrill so great just to watch,
These mammals is just top notch
This pod of dolphins swim away,
We watch through misty sea sprays.
Salty breeze seep in our hair,
Smiling sun shines on our burnt backs bare,
The dull sounds of engine power,
The enchanting sounds of rythimic waves in my ears still hover.
By Sashi Prabhu(zeauoxian)
BLOTTED OUT
He loved,but could not say
such words,he could not find;
He loved,but could not touch
such warmth,was just too much;
He was proud,but could not praise
such sounds he could not raise;
He supported,but not with words
such feelings,witheld unheard;
Sentiment,tight reined close within
banished, unvoiced by him,
embittered by his own hurt,
a scarred child 'neath his hairshirt.
In that distant past,crippled emotions lay
imprisoned,unsaid,'til his dying day.
BUCKINGAM LACE
Sussanah
great grandma
times three
a pillow puffed
up on her knee
with daughter
in cobbled Cowfair
daily shaped
their
homespun ware
Within such humble
women dwelt
a rare
& dextrous art
fashioned out
stitch by
stitch
pillowed patterns so rich
tinkling bobbins
bewildering skill
inch by inch grew
the intricate
frill
Twisting threads
in pairs & groups
knitted
together
as interlocking loops
a town craft
then
of world renown
plain or old point
hand made lace
lost foever
with no longer
a trace
COWFAIR TO ANCHORAGE
We left our abode in old Cowfair,haggled
a price for an old shire mare.Onto the
landlord's canal boat,lock stock and barrel
for a life afloat.Farewell to our Buckingham
birthplace ,a meagre living from old point
lace.Dawdled up to Cosgrove, meals around
a blackened stove.This moveable house
painted castle and rose, a life we would not
have chose.Eighteen fifties harsh and mean,
cargo of coal, nothing stayed clean.Doff your
cap,touch your forelock at the gatekeeper's lock.
Food scarce except for or fish,perch , roach a
staple dish.Clothes drying on a line,home for a time
whilst the toddlers were young.As numbers increased
and grew ,places to sleep, all too few.Family life
became impossibly hard ,so back again to a
tied cottage in Aylesbury's Anchorage yard.
Listen to me read these poems at youtube under the name ichthys
We had cried to the scorching sun
An expression of youthful forlorn
An orchestration to air our needs
Peaceful but firm were our deeds
Alas! the heralds of her arrival
Our mother ! A hope beclouding hopelessness
Together we scrambled around her entourage
Like wailing babes in need of a mother's massage
But our mama had renamed herself as barren
And turned deaf to the cries of her expectant children
We craved a rescue from our partial darkness
Only to be graced with permanent blackness
Our only crime was the belief in democracy
A misapprehension! A mirage ! A meticulous mockery !
Shots of bullets against our unarmed bodies
Battered,bruised and yet rebirthed as hoodlums
For where is the future of this shambolic nation
If the leaders of tomorrow are perishing today?
When shall justice be not portrayed as auction
Haggled and bought by only the highest pay?
By:Elizabeth O Adams
Lizdiamond world of poetry
I generally mean mine mien mental state
moost occasions heavily marinated stupor
long established as external trait
psychologically time tested trooper
impossible mission to kickstart sanity
doppelgänger regularly revisits his soul asylum
hellbent antimatter he cannot vitiate
despite therapeutic laxative merely exhausts
well bred literate smoking doobie brother
eliminating aforementioned pablum
witnessed courtesy one floundering grouper
among plenty of fish schooled
hyphenated (high finned haggled)
burn hushed scaled poem
courtesy one unionised rebellious party pooper.
Spellbound with colossal mental grippe
(i.e. all-consuming figurative cerebral
obsessive compulsive forced membership)
magnetic resonance imagine indicated jagged blip
and/or nsync microscopy
showed telltale genetic authorship
regarding above stated mental health crisis,
whereby Sigmund Freud analyst did flip
lid freeing leeches imported courtesy Philip
Hansel and Gretel a mere slip
o' lass whose nose she always did turnip.
victorian canal life - the reality (a true tale from from my maternal heritage )
We left our abode
in old Cowfair
haggled a price
for an old shire mare
Onto the
landlord's canal boat
lock stock and barrel
for a life afloat
farewell to our
Buckingham birthplace &
its meagre living
from old point lace
dawdled slow
up to Cosgrove
taking our meals
. . around a blackened stove
our moveable house
painted castle& rose
not a life
we would have chose
Eighteen fifties harsh
&
mean
coal cargo
so nothing stays clean
doff your cap touch your forelock
every two mile
at
the gatekeeper's lock
Fresh food scarce
except for fish
perch & roach
a staple dish
clothes dry
on a washing line strung
out for a timeout
the toddlers young their
number so soon increased & grew
places to sleep
all too few
family life impossibly hard
so back to a tied cottage
in
Aylesbury's Anchorage yard
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
28th jan2012
By Sashi Prabhu(zeauoxian)
These wooden meant to for all season,
Blue painted motored boats beacon,
Us to calm green sea waters,
To sail on and that’s all that matters.
The calm green waters dolphin rides,
Deep inside when the tide subsides.
Eight pals and two sailors sailed on
On a boat with the rent haggled upon.
Two and a half miles have gone,
Into the waters we sail on,
Squealing and giggling in delight,
Adrenalin pumped up and over excite.
The motor the sailor cuts off,
Over and over with a bit of scoff,
The dolphins they say swim and are gone
By the dull sounds of the motor whirr &drone.
Waves they splash frothy sprays
On the bodies bathed in hot sunrays,
Shrills cries of joy erupt,
From us sightseers eight on a glimpse of dolphins seen abrupt.
The wet bath suits and sun tans,
Some with hand held beer cans,
Watch the dolphins frolic in the sea
Cavorting in graceful curves both she and he.
The sailor maneuvers you to the place
Of marine life ,pelagic birds his boat with grace,
The sight of these magnificent mammals,
Feeding and playing their bodies look coated with enamel.
The thrill so great just to watch,
These mammals is just top notch
This pod of dolphins swim away,
We watch through misty sea sprays.
Salty breeze seep in our hair,
Smiling sun shines on our burnt backs bare,
The dull sounds of engine power,
The enchanting sounds of rythimic waves in my ears still hover.