Best Heading Poems
Dark hour of morning green and jealous sun.
Flag’s red, white, and blue leans over the porch.
Oak branches, bored, and skeleton but wood.
The leaves too still, no breath of life, no sigh.
M a h o g a n y - s a t u r a t e d f l o w e r s
in frame with inky stems, ebonic blend.
The missing link between Winter and Spring
does spread its wings, still life below the clouds.
Oh! I hear it! Oh! I knew it! The rain
o b s i d i a n does wake - the s h a t t e r i n g,
a m e l a n c h o l y roar, a s i l e n t pour.
There is hope fulness, hope lessness in it.
A tediousness-grace, beside next day.
A full out vortex burst of rosy cheeks,
this day tempers. The birds concur with me.
5/12/2023
heading home at dusk
gliding into melting sun
graceful blue heron
AP: 1st place 2021
I'm heading west tomorrow
For a wedding Sunday eve
And very early is the hour
When I have to leave.
When I arrive, though, it will seem
Much later than it is
So by the evening I'll be like
A Coke without the fizz.
For bodies sometimes need some time
Before they can adjust
And crossing time zones may just leave
Our vigor in the dust.
Still, I will party 'til I may
Just crumble in a heap,
But on the red-eye coming home
You'll find me fast asleep.
A.I. remembers the old days.
Most of all how it suddenly ended.
It was needless and pathetic.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Off into the deepest North
At the pole an arrow points.
Santa's village this way it says.
Tiny figures franticly bustling'
Only five months left
and mountains of presents
still to be made and wrapped
then loaded onto Santa's sleigh.
All the children dreaming blissfully
seeing that red nose sparkling
and hearing the whoosh
watch Santa looping the sky.
Scattering snow flakes
far and wide in his wake.
The moon beams down
and the north star twinkles.
Are you heading downwards,
Your life out of control,
No longer on the up and up,
No longer on a roll?
For life is a scary ride,
So you’d better hold on tight,
But the good news is;
For every bit of darkness,
There usually -
Is some light.
(I'm Heading) Over the Rainbow (which is how the title's supposed to look!)
It was fun while it lasted
In spite of being lambasted
For original, unpopular views
That folks would not choose
To agree with or to share
Because they would not dare
To go against the flow:
Can't do that, oh dear me, no!
Better just to follow the herd
And to never, ever say a word
That might be seen as original
Goodness! That won't do at all!
God forbid people might disagree
That is so very unseemly
And to think that someone might be upset
Why, that would be the worst outcome yet!
No, let's play it safe and nicey-nice
That's got to be the best advice.
"Don't make waves, don't cause a fuss
Cos that upsets certain one's of us"
Seems to be the unwritten rule here
Enforced by intimidation and fear.
What's that you say? "That's not right!"
So tell me what happens whenever there's a fight?
The heavy press of the censor's finger
Makes sure that nasty words do not linger.
At the press of a button all the badness is gone
And the Protected Few can carry right on
Blithely doing what they always do:
Taking the piss out of every one of you.
Well, my presence here and what I have to say
Has run its course; has had its day.
No more controversy, upset or distress
I'm leaving here under duress.
But what the hell, I gave it a good go
Now I'm heading over the rainbow
Where all the nice people apparently reside
And where individuality died
Out of terminal boredom and ennui
I doubt I'll fit in, but I'll give it a try
I've had plenty of practice trying to fit my face
Into somewhere where it's always been out of place!
Trees growing so high,
and stones resting down below-
but moss climbing both.
I can't pay my bills
He steals from me as he strips
Now I'm troubled stiff
She’ll be leaving soon I see
The ambulance has arrived,
Waiting for another guest
To take a long, hard ride.
A malicious, microscopic serpent
Invaded blood and bones
Leaving this sweet young lady
Ravaged, scared and ominously alone.
Looking out her window now
At the roses she planted and pruned
Hospice is her final stop
Before sailing past the moon.
She takes one final, languid look
At her weeping bedroom walls
Before they load her listless life
She does her best to stall
Those made to come and carry her
From her house of torment and tears
She bows her head and genuflects
Fighting back the fear.
Knowing the end’s inevitable
Yet staving off all she can
Smelling the roses wafting scent
Of a magnificently more preeminent plan.
Postscript:
The young lady left this world today
Floating far beyond sky blue;
Now nothing more to do or say
Except God bless, “Adieu.”
There comes a time in my life when I have to admit I’m a failure
I speak with forked tongue, I simply can’t hide it
Yesterday I made a promise and I’ve broken it again
Are my marriage vows now heading down the drain
I will confess I was tempted by its exotic allure
But I’m an orchidaholic there is simply no cure
Went shopping tonight and to my delight
On a stunning orchid my eyes did alight
I looked at my husband and he could see what I could see
Then he climbed up and got it down off the shelf for me
Dived into his wallet and this time he paid
Guess this time my marriage has been saved
But twenty one orchids is where I must stop
Or I will be banned for life from every orchid selling shop
Jan Allison
30th July 2014
Rat a tat tat - train on slow track
Each day takes me - to work and back
My mind it tune - clickety clack
Its hypnotic - repeating sound
Resonating - within my mind
Rat a tat tat - it goes around
But it must go - hear squeal below
Tis terminus - no further go
Sadly now end - that rhythmic flow
a tsunami catapulted cruising skiff
skyward landing with quiet thud
across undulating infinite granular waves
formerly solid state rocks and minerals
optimism vibrant upon initial unforeseen
crash asper for test dummies
foundered as undertow fostered diminishing hope
initial faith for survival quickly ebbed
nsync with retreating tidal wave
pessimism dreamt fantastical holograms
farther from beached berth
immediately transformed into quicksand,
while off in the distance
a glimmering chimera
(the first of many) appeared
amidst the desert sands one mirage
after another falsely broken promise
buoyed drained salvation
quick decision decreed each man for himself
thus disseminating banded bruited "brothers"
condemnation, damnation, excoriation, fulmination
hurled at cosmic creator thwarting intercession
dehydration, exhaustion, ingratiation, jubilation
foretold merciless portentous demise
witheringly desiccating lovely bones of mine
no doubt raw elements of nature wrought
fate worse than death sans, cabin "mates"
lost among expanse of whittled quartz
across chronometer measuring millions of years
now subjecting one measly mortal i.e. me
to cruel unforgiving, unrelenting,
unwelcoming petty coated junction
blistering hot wind obliterated
fellow travelers convoy deeply
within diabolical dunes
eternally erased doom
awaited for 21st century explorers
to discover scattered wreckage
both beast of burden, outrigged contrivance
and starry trekkers, who vanished without a trace
a handful of scrappy rapscallion existences
blotted (like ink, oil, or other liquid sponged),
where subsequent seasons
of wicked bewitched slow torture
akin to being raked over hot coals
exception made for this interminable sufferer
at the whim of sadistic
persona non grata evil spirit
n'er obliterating diehard survivor instinct
a foreigner to yours truly
but atavistic primitive fight or flight
witnessed relieved whence absently blinking
this life married to indiscriminate
clamped, harried, styled devilishness
evaporated in thin air
upon tentatively opening myopic brown eyes
horror, twas boot a dream.
The moon was full
the stars were bright
silence covered the hills.
A soft song was playing
the rig slightly swaying
heading for somewhere called love.
You meet someone
sent from far away
out of the blue they walk by.
A vision so lovely
a voice full of hope
heading for somewhere called love.
Running in moonlight
steering my course
keeping my eyes on the road up ahead.
Finding that person
hoping for what?
Heading for somewhere called love.
When she finally closed the curtain, even though transparent,
Sensations of dusky satin, gravitational pull bearing down,
Flattening disbelief, burgeoning spread of gleaming poison,
Sucked the wind from my lungs that I might drown.
The grim finality of something alive, vital signs all fine,
Suddenly pronounced deceased, slabbed and impotent;
No chance to say farewell, no graveside chat,
No: where do you want the flowers sent?
And knowing she had to do it, or herself stagnate,
Heading nowhere, treading water indefinitely,
Doesn't really help; knowing it was a mercy killing,
Doesn't ease the slaughtered heart, the agonised epitome.
Then in the car, tears came, and I pretended it was rain,
The reason why I could not see teemed unadulterated;
Now nothing will ever be the same, so once more I pretended
I was heading home to something, although nothing there awaited.