Best Hap Poems
'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
-------------------------------------------------------
Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces
(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE"...Yeah, you must have said that)
Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
(What-if-what-if what-if-why-where-what-how)
Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
If it were a head-on collision, you may have survived
If on the rear side, perhaps only a violent spin
But no, no it had to be on the driver’s side door
It was 'perfect timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
(Perfect-imperfect-perfect-why-where-what-when)
I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that country road you were driving; innocently driving
just trying to get back home...
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
ISN'T it.
Categories:
hap, loss, son,
Form:
Free verse
She's on the Verge
Joe cool
She talks to her hand
like seriously duh
the joke im not telling
we used to be witches writing poetry in coffee shops
smoking pot in serene gardens
and if it wasn't for Ginger my dog
that ran away to make love to Winchester
when she was in heat
we never would have met when we were eight
and still friends
but she tells me its because of me she's crazy
She wants me to remove pro creations that are stalking her
something tells me she's visited the funny farm too many times
I've been there
I've seen it
I know
But me and Joe
we are two of a kind
But I could be bluffing
maybe we're part of a royal flush
I'm space ace from mars
and she's a voodoo queen
to complete the circle of a long lost God in Girlfriend
Only the watchtowers know what that truly means
How did i get soo lucky her mother asked
but I'm not lucky at all
count your blessings and learn to read between the lines
because this mystic in your life
from your tree of fruits and loins did she fall
I'm a gullible god
and so are you
the tower of Babel has fallen
and she doesn't know what to do
so when she speaks the tongue of spirituality or which
and all you hear is psycho babble
it doesn't sound like
sneesh cheep bleep flap jip hap frew
she makes sense to me with words shes obsessing
i just wish you would take it on yourselves to read up on it
to understand her to communicate
instead of sending her to the hospital
Those pills make her
talk to her hand
and those lies are mostly true
fact is stranger than fiction
and together your family can pull through
even those doctors
are a little bit mad at that tea party
and shes never thrown me away after what I've been through
i love her to pieces
so should you
shes always been there for me
and when we lose touch she searches high and low for me
when you lose touch
there are more than one thing u can do
shes had exorcisms
and a low self esteem
date rape by succesfull well respected men
and everyone said it was blasphemy
it's not easy but it could be worse
believe you me
she's beautiful on the inside
and soo many soo called sane people
are beautiful outside
but uglier than sin if you ask me
Categories:
hap, hope, life, people, beautiful,
Form:
Free verse
My best friend just had
her wedding ceremony
She's as hap-hap-happy
as a new bride can be
What's her groom's name, you say
Why, it's John P. Marconi
We suspect she doesn't know
the 'P's for Parsimony
Categories:
hap, identity, wedding,
Form:
Light Verse
Put on a happy face
when I release taut fingers
from your pallid cheeks.
Promises and empty lies
are sported clichés
that spoil a silenced vocabulary.
A quieted understanding we've
vocally committed to;
barks a matted-jackal’s constitution -
perceiving morose consequences
of blind subservience.
Put on a happy face
and fetch me dinner.
Ever flickering nuances,
once ignited a Brigadooned morning sunrise -
where woolen-blackened comforters
backlit our sordid differences.
Now, our prom attire has been burned.
The carnations, the orchids - have perished.
The beguine hasn’t begun.
It has ended.
Finalized and fortunately forgotten.
A pale orchid-colored icepack,
for your left eye,
would match your handbag and shoes
quite nicely.
Put on a happy face
and lint-guard the
disheveled derelict.
Forever falling forward, we've suddenly landed.
No need for saline solution anymore;
I cry when I hap hazardously laugh.
A silenced vocabulary realized the words
tryst and trust was separated by one letter;
why or you…or me, for that matter
completes the unfinished symphony.
The disenchanted beguine
floats into a tear-filled
Cinderella dank nightfall –
as I stare into the cornea of a
brittled pink carnation.
My hand, like a fringed strop,
needs to remove the strains of
a “Mea-Culpa” leitmotif and flog
the iniquities of one’s self.
Put on a happy face, goddamnit
and tell me
why you’re gone!
Toasted marshmallows is a perfume
created for misguided Girls Scouts.
Fervent mongrels who refrain from selling
photo-pressed carnations and
poisonous orchids - dumbly courtsey
when idiotic
adolescent daydreams prevail upon
the blatantly obvious.
Thirteen stitches
and a numerous array
of callous welts
reprised our endless beguine.
Passion is said to perish in embers.
One last charcoal
for us
to eye and envy.
A burnt carnation.
A scarred, trembling orchid.
The smoldering remains we'll inhale -
when this lost and lonely
soldier removes the
smudged greasepaint from
his broken fingertips and eyelashes
to painfully and pitifully
put on a happy face
just for you.
Categories:
hap, on writing and words,
Form:
Free verse
Ok let's go up to the fire tower, talk with Ranger Ricky, Heh, heh,. What's so funny Harry. When I was a kid we use to watch the Ranger Ricky Show. He would run Popeye the Sailor cartoons and every week He would say "An a very Hap-py Birthday to the viewers."An a very Hap-py Birthday to Harry, he is 8 years old today.He helps his Mom around the house by doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. Morning Rick, morning Harry, I've been expecting you. I have some bad news, the avalanch started at the top of Demons Bluff. Your chances of finding those kids are slim and even slimmer finding them alive. There is some good news, 7 members of Killington Rescue have joined the search.That's great, the four of us have 2 advantages, we only have to climb 50 feet to the top of the mountain. Demons Bluff is on the otherside, down hill with very little snow
for 3 quarters of a mile. What's the secound reason asked Billy. Harry cooks as well
as he knows this mountain, he is an Ace Rick, stop! Alright, I have 5 thermo-laser poles, should we bring the 5th one. Yep, I'll carry it.
To be Cont.
Author's note: This all took place in less than a 5 minute span if you think we were Dilly-dallying
Categories:
hap, life, nature, birthday, morning,
Form:
Narrative
Yo
Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo… O…. Himbe
Erotic bark of exotic tree
Yo
Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo… O…. Himbe
Help a man be all he can be
I come home tired, but my woman want me.
She give me little rum and some Yohimbe (basso line)
She say it make a difference she can feel and see
She give me little rum and some Yohimbe (basso line)
She say I make her body feel hap…hap…eee
She give me little rum and some Yohimbe (basso line)
Yo
Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo… O…. Himbe
Erotic bark of exotic tree
Yo
Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo… O…. Himbe
Help a man be all he can be
So if you want to get a lot, just like me
Try a little rum and some Yohimbe (basso line)
Try it just and you will see
Try a little rum and some Yohimbe (basso line)
It work for you like it work for me
Try a little rum and some Yohimbe (basso line)
Yo
Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo… O…. Himbe
Erotic bark of exotic tree
Yo
Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo… O…. Himbe
Help a man be all he can be (down tempo)
Categories:
hap, body, for her, for
Form:
Lyric
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Poem By THOMAS LAM HSI
THERE IS ONLY ONE TRUE GOD...THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY...WHO ALONE CAN
SAVE FROM Satan...who plays 'all' roles...the devil...the 'Lord Jesus'...
the 'Father'...the 'Holy Spirit'...all 'Other Gods'...and 'alien gods'...HE...THE
LORD JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF IS FULLY GOD AND MAN...AND HE ALONE...
IS THE ONLY WAY TO GOD THE FATHER...and to an Actual Heaven!
Oh, that crackling thunder, my ears torn asunder,
That folded mural in the sky-
It glistened and gleamed, like jewels on high,
I marvelled at my passage, until my victim drew neigh.
That fair-haired maiden, a youthful lass AT BEST,
I would de'er enter her vessel-
And lay my wizened body to rest,
Upon such sweet innocence, I'll leave her torn and regretful.
I've searched within my old sinful heart,
These many sweet wenches, I do now recall-
But my only regret, is one day will I die,
Oh, my crackling thunder, 'tis gone and lost for all.
I'm but a vapored cloud,
Drifting and planing night and day-
But now I'm an image lost,
My family so far away.
An ode to a witch, INDEED,
It could have been so hea-ven-ly-
But a stitch in time,
Ne'er leaves its rhyme, as I did so hap-pil-y!
Categories:
hap, angel, bereavement, best friend,
Form:
Blank verse
Hap-i-ty Birth-a-day
many long years ago
then was a guy named Sid
born to his folks.
Now on this special day
everyone celebrates
incontrovertably
one of lifes jokes.
Categories:
hap, funny, holiday,
Form:
Double Dactyl
Oh we ostriches, my fellow man.
They led us here and pointed saying this is sand.
Lest by chance a fool we hap to be.
The truth is plain for all to see.
Time to struggle and throw a fit.
Yuck phooey and out we spit.
Thats not sand its ________.
Categories:
hap, funny
Form:
I drink poetry and excrete it in my imagination to the taste of soup, inspiration in my gutter of sky, the farces run the barn of wood crawling fingers, digging deep into the fury velvet twilight map the location
Entertainer decapitate loyal crew to the kingdom of kingpin round morning blessing brother meek of submerged answers never to be repeated to the third person singular, but lukewarm of appetite detached morning mum.
Line of angry dull pin the sharp hap to the loot of moon pointing straightforward to the faded Antilles, Western Indies scruffs of limitless anchor of my days to that thwart of subliminal good to go.
Smiling moon to the center of the sky peep into my prison of imagination, padlock to the gallows mistake shaking the dignity of arrow to the cloak the tempest banana republic to repugnant whistle sound
The kilos of rhythms backed up my pant of pain to till sunshine yet to blame the belated from the bereave lure to deputizes the post of ray to tray of mishaps, the din of lion claws of fun rub truth leaning side by side sip the peg of life to the smile of hyperbole.
The sharp thoughts quick under my pillow from voices of an Island crying to trembling hawk jog of bug nails sound decontrol of hail night and the root of thief.
Categories:
hap, imagery, lonely, lust, ,
Form:
Ballad
Champagne
Champagne bubbles tickle!
Can you feel their misting?
Corks are pop...POP...POPPING
Counting down to Midnight!
Confetti starts dropping
Cocktails sipped and lifting
Clinking: HAP!--PY NEW YEAR!
deborah burch©12.21.16
_______________________________________________
Form: Pleiades
For Andrea 's Merry Christmas /Happy
New Year---Pleiades CONTEST.
Categories:
hap, new year, seasons,
Form:
Verse
friendship, imagery, imagination, inspiration, muse, poetry, word play,
Poetry Soup ©
Posting of one’s poem has come to be an inspiring word play
We’ve read one another’s word/worked poetry world wide
We first draft and so fine-tuned our poems before we share and gift
Friendly criticism ‘suggestions’ and praises are bandied about and returned
All our thoughts and words were born from many ‘minded’ inspirations here
All found memories were noted upon and searched within and duly ‘ironed’ out
Opened or shut to variety reviews ‘crafting’ our long ‘elbowed’ running words.
Concerns draw insights that lead into queries to life, nature, family and survival
We have collaborated and composed a 'probed' spicilège of prose, shoulder to shoulder.
We are forearmed with stimulating life variations with ‘factual’ shared hap- enhances to put to pens
It is by reads of everyone's 'trial and tribulations' inked that give us familiarity
Each one another’s unique individual epic postings are winnable word plays when shared
Comradeship truly develops between good words spoken/read or put in prose coming from true hearts and souls.
Circulations of our many efforts to date have been displayed in all poetry styles
Where ‘either or neither’ written poem surpasses ‘its’ place alongside one another
They mesh and contribute to the essence of poetry fare and make a fine prepared poetry soup
And it is this vast wonderful giving of our poet’s word-play that calls all lovers of poetry to listen
We are diligent with 'like-minded' myriads of stanzas that indeed marry and flavour our simmering soup pot!
Categories:
hap, friendship, imagery, imagination, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
Paintings name : Apple dumplings
I sit here peeling the apples
My mind in a whirl
What shall I make them into
I am thinking as the peel twirls
I am pretty good at pastry
Shortcrust I think It must be
Must check if I have the cloves
To make a dumpling so very tasty
So I mix the flour with the butter
Til like breadcrumbs so very fine
Add drops of water, to bind the latter
Roll and cut to cover apples, divine
Cook them in the oven
Til golden brown and smelling so unreal
Make thick custard to serve with them
Can taste them, think just one I might steal.
The picture tells the story
Of the maidens thoughts at work
Of the pleasure that cooking has for her
This is one job she wont shirk.
link to picture
http://ichef.bbci.co.uk/arts/yourpaintings/images/paintings/hap/large/ntv_hap_22_large.jpg
Penned 21/5/2013
Categories:
hap, fruit,
Form:
Rhyme
1
I have desire to
Hear the best song of my own
Nature fly with wings
2
A divine fragrance –
Sprouted for me suddenly
Flower of silence
3
Hope needs to have hap
Hap arrives and reaches hope
Living finds its life
4
While the dawn advents
All the creatures do rise up
Nature smiles for us
5
Darkness generates
Light and light invites darkness
Oxymoron, lives
Categories:
hap, life,
Form:
Haiku
27 February 2010
His body alike a limp vegetable
Unable to speak and can’t even crawl
His age maybe 3 or 4, I’m not sure
His worst condition they tried to inure
A single room upstairs facing huge trees
Wind swayed the leaves as circadian circuitry
A half vertical block fixed at the doorstep
Unthinkable to pass through by a limp’s creep
One morning, the limp boy is left all alone
At a higher level with bounded zones
To leap on door block and stairs steps wide gap
A little chance to move through is a hap
Maybe a godsend or a grotesque sprite
A paramour of the innocent feeble child
Who wants to show the other world expanse
Or invite him to their kingdom to prance
My heedless passing by to their place
Forbade the unknown and left him at the foot of the staircase
I run toward him, lying on the floor, and seemed all right
I looked around but no one else at the sight
Categories:
hap, angel, black love, child,
Form:
Rhyme