Best Handshakes Poems
Lyrics start 0.05 - timed to the music
Pack your bags dear, there’s a Croc near
And he’s creeping, through the night
With his eye on - on our old stead dear
And it appears - we’re within his sight
You know when that Croc smiles - shows his teeth dear
Concrete jungles start to spread
Whips the grass from right under their feet dear
Scams now filling, each word he’s said
What no scruples you ask, well he ain’t got’em you should know
Seeks locations both, far and wide
Look he’s sneaking - sneaking down the alley
Is there no - place - left to hide
Another Archway, off the highway down the road
Golden handshakes, don’t go the mile
Men in black suits they make it all happen dear
Sanguine red soon, turns into bile
With our kids dear – it’s the buzz 'we gotta go'
Family meeting place, just come on down
Try these milk shakes - they're just like the real thing
And these burgers, the best in town
Bet you a fiver - oh that bun is barely fresh
Kids now falling sick - while their doctors frown
Green backs talking – they don’t give a nickel
Have our bags packed
‘Cause the Croc is
Look out Sneaky Croc is
Sneaky Croc’s back
Back in town
EPILOGUE
Oh these outlets they keep spreading far and wide
In a hurry, they just can’t wait
Food so tasty, don’t you wonder ‘bout it all
No time to ponder it’ll make you late
Good old family name – so familiar dear
Look out folks for, deceit and lies
Another archway - around the corner
Now that Croc is stopping by
Look out OLD Croc is back
Footnote:
On our recent visit to Japan I noticed the proliferation of Fast Food outlets. It is such a pity to see a country that was once so fastidious with their traditionally healthy diets and that of their kids, changing their lifestyle and falling prey to corporate fast food giants. Even the kids are now embracing this way of life.
It’s sad to see traditional food outlets also losing their livelihood as the trend takes over.
Acknowledgement:
My deepest appreciation to Chris Green on agreeing to spare some of his wonderful talent and collaborating with me to bring you this arrangement.
Thank you so much Chris.
Copyright © Maria Williams & Chris Green | 3 June 2017
I have entered a room filled with handshakes and friendship
Sharing hugs here and there, there's a buzz in the air
Soupers queued, center stage, with a rhyme and a theme
One is reading a poem with applause from the wings
There is laughter, and sharing......and a microphone blaring
A few poems being read, but no one is hearing,
since the chatter is loud, and the crowd's having fun!
I'm checking who's here, are they cool, are they new?
Is she who I had dreamed behind her avatar screen?
Is he who he had seemed as his poetry deemed?
How great is this chance, to catch a real glance
and see all those faces, my computer just beamed
I look for a friend, who has traveled quite far
Taking trains, or a plane, in a bus or a car
I'm happy to say, they are nicer by far
than I'd ever expected.......these Poetry Stars!
__________________________________________________________
10/31/13 ......for Yasmin's Contest: Meeting the Soupers
The loss of a partner can be devastating but they wouldn’t expect you to stop living your life to the full.
Quote by poet.
I was a seventy year old widower and I'd given up on life
I'd sit at home all day thinking of my dear departed wife.
A friendly neighbour called and said "John you need to live,
you're mobile and healthy, you've plenty more to give".
“There's a club for seniors with many widowed or single,
please come out with me and have a good old mingle."
Reluctantly I decided to accompany her to the church hall,
had visions of oldies sat around but it wasn't like that at all.
Most were seniors quite alert and were having a good old chat,
there was plenty of laughter, lots of jokes, a lively place at that.
With plenty of smiles and handshakes, they all welcomed me,
and for senior and lonely single folk, it was the place to be.
Three happy hours soon went by, and I felt I was back on track
I couldn't thank my neighbour enough for getting me my life back.
She said "I know your wife would want you to live and be happy",
I said "Yes, she often told me that and in my heart she's still with me".
Broken windows give no reflection
graffiti for those who can read
concrete streets are polluted rivers
passing shoes leave bodies in need
disillusion is a crumbled sidewalk
stretching to an intersection of who cares
empty eyes follow shadows that wander
stolen clothes from the morgue to wear
hope is a night's survival passing
when sounds of gunfire are heard
silence comes from gang handshakes
pigeons and crows the only bird
A bell that rings in the distance
the church the preacher will rob
players and pimps with tin cups
approach the stampeding mob
a moat of suburbs surround
gates to the castle are locked
guards at ramparts bleed blue
guns are always cocked
a cry only heard by those crying
in a dirty world of make believe
tomorrow finds another broken window
a rock by a child that can't leave
5/6/17
A curious cocktail of odours greets us
as we move in from playground
to corridor, to cloakroom, to classroom.
Beeswax fragrance: freshly buffed parquet.
Brasso smell: base metal turned to gold.
Jeyes Fluid: vapour killing vile germs.
Such alchemy starts our day with clean slate.
Playground cacophony left behind.
Now each sound has discipline, has purpose.
First bell: registration shall begin.
Next bell: proceed to assembly hall.
Lasses stand on round marks; lads on square marks.
Regular rows, parallel precision.
Stand to attention. Uniform inspection.
At ease. Handshakes and smiles. Peace be with you.
Silence pervades as we ponder our sins.
With ramrod fingers Miss thumps on the keys.
Staccato. Left. Right.
'Ride on Ride on in Majesty'.
A short sermon on compassion is served.
Then, school notices: soccer successes
and the listing of scallywags destined
for public thrashing at high noon next day.
Third bell: learning shall begin.
RI lesson. St Paul's Journey yet again.
In silence we colour in his route map.
With crayons on auto-pilot we day dream.
Our apostle arrives in Rome by morning break.
War is a time of great conflict
bringing so much misery and suffering
to a generation of people mistreated
on their knees in it's wake
prayers are calling to Heaven
Where the innocence of children
becomes tainted
no longer having a voice
little ones confused
scratching behind the ears
Silence there dwells
hate filled secrets buried
under the carpet of lies not revealed
from the unspoken truth
Invaders are tyrants
dressed in suits no doubt
employing soldiers
brutally abusing their powers
given unto them by the peoples vote
With no morals how does society stand a chance
They are blind unconscious
to their acts and deeds of mercy
Sitting on their high seats of office
Purely a stand up joke
with false handshakes claiming peace
Stealing is not a God given right
quoting justice seeks answers
We have all been deceived
Democracy of the poor struggling does not exist
I call for world peace
Address all issues
laid out on the table containing truth
The day for nit picking is over
End this shameful bloodshed and violence
because there is always two sides to every story
Victims of racism
no blacks
no dogs
our race came lower classed than animals
shame on your envy of our father's faith
Kept down for centuries
Sold as slaves of little worth
I am a writer of my times
Where everyone
should have a voice equal
not hiding in the cupboard
Love in God's light
has taught me morals
thou shalt not steal
or take what does not
belong to you pride
Hate with the demons
you dwell crying
over your own spoiled milk
Where was Europe
during this crisis time
when human rights
became violated on our soil
As a child to have a gun
pointed at your face
is down right cruelty in the act
twisting acceptance of arrogance
through the vision of my eyes
looking down a barrel at me
Even yet years later
they remain silent
why I ask myself
when the grass is cut
before your eyes
into addressing murder and child abuse
big issue to act on
in realities fact
the reaper of truth sheds light always
This world has fallen into chaos
Let's awake the sleeping demon
when a certain world leader
has used from the forbidden book
Totalitarian dictatorship under lies
we need to pray to defeat these evil corrupt powers
do you not think an angel rides in the whirlwind
and directs this storm a new world order surfaces
An ingrowing disease spreads rapidly forcing
destroying public opinion on moral choice
for me it is easy knowing who controls deceit then
secret handshakes with hidden meanings
Signs away our rights at every turn becomes an obstacle
human values are overturned in favour of the sinner
the moral fabric of society has become twisted against truth
in views within murder humanity has completely gone insane
Rust on padlocked factory gates
from tears of broken men.
Time has stopped on the golden watch,
freeze framed memories of a better past.
Scattered faces breed sour looks
for brothers of nepotism
with handshakes that nearly broke arms.
Crouched in side streets
observing worldly peasants passing.
Slave ganged with vacuum eyes
tripping through life's labyrinth.
Putrid stares of jealous intent
drooling venom; casting adjectives of annihilation,
gouging notches from the family tree
with a calm, icy incision.
Family values dead
incestuous intent
breeding dole queue bastards.
Underground society of leeches
bleeding optimism.
Ghetto laws written in cordite rooms
Switch-blade; preferred method of payment,
for dreams inhaled from crack bongs.
Joining dots of needle tracks
reveals a picture of despair.
Deaths lottery, depression, calling out your numbers.
Jackpot being long awaited sleep.
I am a terrible virus, fast and wise
400 micron plus is roughly my size
I am a zoonotic, Corona is my name
Infecting unwary humans is my game
I remain on ground and not in the air
To catch careless humans unaware
On a metal surface I survive for 12 hours
After that period I lose all my powers
If I fall on fabrics I stay alive for 9 hours
To kill me, the fabrics need good showers
Or a 2-hour exposure to bright sunshine
Will succeed in sending me forever offline
I can survive 10 minutes on human hands
Handwash with a sanitizer can upset my plans
Exposing me to temperatures of 27o C plus
Will send me to RIP without any fuss
My conduciveness to pandemic brings me fame
Leaking into the human lungs is my aim
Countries get panicky as my presence is felt
Commotion everywhere to seek a safety belt
My name evokes terror in every mind
Doctors get worried as I’m a unique kind
Old vaccines and medicines do not work
Fear of my presence makes the people berserk
Race, nationality is of no concern to me
I invade places as far as my eye can see
Changing greeting customs is also my flair
From handshakes to folded hands in the air
Whosoever comes in my way I do not spare
Whether Presidents or cobblers I don’t care
People feel greatly relieved when I die away
They pray that I don’t resurrect another day
a hulking oak tree
extends elongated boughs
handshakes with nature
Tree Themed Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin (Winner: 2nd Place)
Howmanysyllables.com( 5-7-5 Syllables)
Date written and submitted: 08/19/2019
Let us reach out and make connection
With spontaneous everlasting affection
Wake up and say it
We care! We care!
Then do it
Starting up! Starting up!
A gentle flow with glow
In the right direction
Don’t just stop it
Let it grow! Let it grow!
Come together! Come together!
Those harmonized handshakes
This is all what it takes
The phones are ringing
Mailboxes are kicking
What is it? What is it?
A spectacular network of aspiration
Once again that invincible perpetual voice
Shouted with velocity
Reach out! Reach out! Reach out!
Fashion a memory, with our bright winter scene
The morning brought snow, fresh fallen and clean
Find a snug shelter, from the sharp frigid air
Welcome to my holiday home, at this special time of year
Dry your wet mittens, and warm your red nose
Stand by the fire that sparkles and glows
Warm up by the embers, but don't get too near
Welcome to my holiday home, at this special time of year
Stand by the window, there's a new dusting of snow!
The children are playing, while the snow balls are thrown
Watch how they laugh as their voices ring clear
Welcome to my holiday home, at this special time of year
Forget all your loneliness, add a smile to your face
We offer handshakes and hugs, and a welcoming place
A warm place to rest and a meal and some cheer
Welcome to my holiday home, at this special time of year
Come for a moment, or come in for a day
Leave all your cares behind, put your worries away
There is friendship and comfort, to dry all your tears
Welcome to my holiday home, at this special time of year
If there's no one to love you, we have plenty to spare
A haven is waiting, where somebody cares
Please come in and warm up, ....now hang your coat there....
Welcome to my holiday home, at this special time of year
While my happiness hawls in a dark cave of self-doubt, I smile.
Burying my brain cells in the grave of immense fear, I speak.
While my dreams burn in the dreary path of desolation, I suffer to sleep.
Shedding rivers of blood
enough to fill the midnight ocean, I walk.
I welcome each morning with a hammering heart.
I extend warm handshakes with cold hands.
I dance to the looney tunes with quivering feet.
I share my bold thoughts with frozen blood in my veins.
That day when I gave a presentation,
I received applause and appreciation
Everyone called me a brave heart,
But deep inside, I remained a cadaver in graveyard.
That day when I first met your family,
I broke the ice with a soothing melody
Everyone in the abode surmised me as chirpy
My chest alone knows the pain it endured in that pseudo joyful journey.
When you saw me strong, I was undeniably weak inside.
When you saw me smile, you saw me who wasn't at all there.
When the sweetness of my song bloomed your heart, bile was burning the walls of my throat.
When you were witnessing my collar lifting moment , I was actually stopping my collar bones from breaking.
I wish to wake up to the tick of alarm clock but wake up to the thump of my pounding heart.
I wish to hug the dreams in the deep night's sleep but I fall prey to the paws of nightmares.
My eye lens capture a non-existing image
My brain maps the present to a buried past
My heart fears a fictitious
occurance
My body absconds into an unknown destination.
You feel I'm insane
But I'm enduring excruciating pain
No! No, I'm not overplaying,
And no, I'm not at all
shamming
I feel I need not be sorry for what I am
Because I'm riding above the clouds to do my best in this lifespan.
Today's children text on cell phones,
instruments of incalculable knowledge.
And yet, most have never seen a starry sky,
flickering fireflies, pheasants in flight;
or a cocky rooster strut about.
Their reality consists of emojis,
designed to feed social media's insatiable appetite.
Today's children have never seen a cow or a plowed field.
They buy their vegetables, meats, and milk prepackaged
off the shelves of grocery stores, having never been on a farm.
They spend their time surfing the internet,
addicted to their iPhones and computer screens;
soliciting likes from fictitious fickle friends.
Today's children air-kiss and hope to go viral,
for quantity trumps quality when you number your friends.
And even if a few internet friendships are genuine,
they'll unlikely ever meet in the flesh.
Eye contact and handshakes are so blasé,
they've been relegated to the distant past.
Inside alternate realities, today's children live in isolation.
When blossoms fall
From the tree of life
Their ash will feed its roots
And bloom away the strife
These ambassadors of hearts and smiles
And handshakes
These caretakers of souls
Theses brothers and sisters
And mothers and fathers
And husbands and wives
And grandmothers and grandfathers
And friends of friends of friends
Who hugged life with happiness
And white orchids
Who embraced the sick without fear
Who opened homes to students
Who joined faiths
Who shared humor
Who laughed with gentle spirit
Who cooked meals for neighbors
Who knew community
These blossoms from the tree of life
Of life
Of life
Blooming again and again and again
No evil shall stop these blossoms
More life will prevail
More trees will bloom
Like vines on hills blooming in the sun
Like wild flowers in fields
And rose bushes in gardens
Sweet roses, blooming for 97 years
Nothing will stop the multiflora rose
Or honeysuckle or wisteria or lantana
They will bloom in spite of prejudice
In spite of bias
In spite of hostility
In spite of this drought of kindness
These blossoms
Of Irving
Of Melvin
Of Rose
Of Bernice and Sylvan
Of Jerry
Of Joyce
Of Richard
Of Daniel
Of Cecil and David
Will come back year after year after year
And our Trees of Lives
Will grow taller and stronger
And beneath their shade
We all will rest in peace.