Best Jumped Up Poems
My earliest recollection was being placed in a Coca Cola cooler in a Barbershop in Virginiatown Ontario. I heard the sound of the Nickle being placed in the coin slot. Then an eager little boy opened the top and peered in with twinkling blue eyes. I wondered which one of us he would choose? His tiny little hand reached towards me and guided me through a metal maze and yanked me out. He popped my top with the opener on the side of the Red machine. I wonder if that is how I got the name "Soda Pop". He held me close to his chest brought me over to his chair and placed me beside a stack of comics. I watched as he jumped up gleefully onto his chair.
He grabbed me with his two little hands and put me up to his mouth. My orange fizziness passed over his lips, onto his tongue and then down his throat. A big toothy smile and an orange coated tongue. I felt his little tummy bursting until a big burp and a giggle gave him relief. Even after my orange had been consumed he seemed to enjoy the texture of my glass as he rotated me in his hands. I remember him turning me upside down and peering at the room through my base. He liked the way I played with the light. When he was done he placed me in a paper bag with his comics to take me home.
To be continued...
A little grey mouse
snuck into the house
to get himself out of the cold.
Then the house cat
Who saw where he sat
pursued him I am told.
The lazy old dog
who sleeps like log
was startled by the chase,
So she woke up
her own small pup
and they joined in the race.
My sister the baby
decided that maybe
she would give it a try,
She started a spat
And was scratched by the cat
and then she started to cry.
That’s when mom
called to Uncle Tom
to come and lend a hand,
With a straw broom
mom circled the room
knocking plants from off a stand.
In came my dad
and he was quite mad
because the house was in disarray
He was vexed
with what happened next
But it happened just this way.
Our two brave bowsers
chased the mouse up dad’s trousers
He thought he’d be safe in there.
Until Dad started to dance
with the mouse in his pants
Then he jumped up on a kitchen chair.
Mom smacked dad’s seat
and then came a repeat
And the mouse climbed out of his pocket.
Unseen by all
he started to crawl
into the wall through an open socket.
Later that night,
With no one in sight,
I put out a nut for the little mouse.
I had no hate toward him,
And I tried to reward him.
Even if he was trapped inside our house.
I told him my name,
And he did the same,
Then he stuffed the nut into his cheeks.
He said thanks for the food,
And I don’t mean to be rude,
But that was the most fun that I’ve had in weeks.
Hickory, dickory, dock.
Jerry the mouse ran up the clock
Tom smelled him from afar
Jumped up on top like a star.
Jerry as always was quite wise.
And with a rod struck Tom’s eyes.
The cat fell nastily on the clock
And received a decisive knock.
But alas the clock fell to the ground.
Mammy Two Shoes with a broom chased Tom around.
Jerry slinked into the kitchen for cheese
Cheddar, mozzarella, stilton and more of these.
But Mammy Two Shoes mad at Tom’s disaster fling,
With a broom chased him to make him sing.
Then threw him in the garden quite dark,
Let Spike bully dog ran after him with a bark.
14 March 20211
Nursery Rhyme 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
With apologies to Agatha Christie's
for use of her great detective book
Hickory, Dickory Dock.
Before reading this one, please read one and two, it will help you make sense of the tale.
I became startled when the car came to an abrupt stop. Ricky reached into the bag and pulled me out again. I have to admit it was good to feel the light shining through my glass. There was also something comforting about Ricky's little hand wrapped around my neck. I'm sure if I was human that might be an entirely different experience. Ricky hopped out of the car and ran towards the front door of his home. I am not sure how to describe it. The house was more like half a house, they lived on one side and another family lived on the other. The building was not fancy, except two large picture window and several small ones the building was all brick. To the left of their home there was what looked like a vacant lot which was more a hole in the ground with a pathway rocks and trees. I could see other kids playing there and it looked like they had built a fort of sorts. It looked like a whole lot of fun.
I'm not sure when it happened, but who really does when it comes to such things. I began to hear Ricky's thoughts. Some of them were beyond the capacity of a mere Soda Pop like myself to understand. It was almost as clear as how you might see through my glass. I must say that it made my simple existance a whole lot more interesting. As Ricky's mom unlocked the front door I could see a staircase to the left and there was a living room to the right where the picture window was. The wall separating the two homes was made of concrete cinder blocks painted a creamy colour. Ricky ran towards the wall then left past a dining area to the kitchen. He jumped up on a stool to reach the kitchen tap. I don't know why but I really liked the stainless steel sink and the shiney chrome tap with a single lever. Ricky liked it because it felt like a gear shift in a car. He pushed it forward and filled me up with water. What a refreshing feeling although I must admit I missed the feeling of my bubbles and the colour orange.
The adventure of Soda Pop will continue, thanks for reading.
It started growing in a field
Billy Stover watched it grow
Because the corn was tall
Because Billy Stover was small
No one knew
Now one saw
No one saw how the tiny boy watched by the hour in summer's heat
Even from the top of high elm trees by the road
who could have detected that small lad stretched out
on his stomach leaning on his elbows watching
On stormy days Billy watched from the closest window
elbows propped up on the sill
He knew it was growing though he couldn't see it
He'd be down in the field now in the mud watching
but his mother forbade it
"What do you do out there Billy all by yourself?
What is it you do out there instead of playing?"
On certain days when the wind swayed the green stalks
and nipped Billy's cheeks his eyes would light up
He fought back a burning desire to run into the white kitchen
to tug at his mother's apron to bring her out
and show her his one spot
He jumped up once when the flames leaped high
started running for the house
"Mother! Mother!" he silently shouted
Every part of his small body shook with joy but
The bleak white walls of the kitchen
his mother her hands dipped in bread dough....................................
It started growing in the field in the dirt in the mind of Billy Stover
And no one could have kept a secret better than Billy
So many memories I have are summer-colored, like those walking-down-the-lane days recalled in various hues of green. Green for Grandpa’s cornfields spread all around us and green for the grass on which my sisters and I used to run and play.
Besides that color green, which prettily surrounded me through all my childhood,
I think a favorite memory would be the colors of one lovely day spent with my family, the family created by my spouse and me and a day our kids were young.
We lived near San Francisco. Few troubles plagued us then and I loved our short time in California! One summer day at last we went to see the beach of Santa Cruz.
I don’t remember details of everything we did. We walked along the boardwalk, naturally. I’m sure the kids, both pre-teens, enjoyed the rides. Even I was every bit as excited as the two of them. I’m sure my spouse and I took pictures, ate good-tasting food and watched our children doing things all children love to do.
But what stood out for me was our time spent on the beach and how we all jumped up to greet each wave that tumbled toward us time and time again to knock us down. What pure pleasure in the splashes of blue that fun-filled day, the blue of the Pacific, which chilled me at the start until I warmed to it as the yellow sun in blue of sky above smiled down on us.
Yes, the blue of sky and water and the constant shining yellow of the sun:
those would be the colors of my favorite summer memory -when times were good and we were young and simply having fun.
new colors emerge
in the autumn of one's life
soon is winter's dirge
as blue asters wave in fields
bye-bye to sweet summer time
For the Haibun Free-Style Contest of scott thirtyseven
After a long work day I come home to a long warm shower. It was getting late into
evening hours. I sat down in my favorite black leather chair. Not knowing I was in for a big
scare. I rolled a joint and sat back fully reclined. I was getting high out of my mind.
As I was enjoying my weed, I almost choked because a voice spoke beneath me! I
jumped up and listened to my chair spit profanity. I wondered if I was loosing my sanity.
My lazyboy said, "Don't be scared, sit down and talk to me!"
I seriously thought I was dreaming. Like an out-of-body experience waking up
screaming. No this is real, very real. I just knew my chair was about to do a cartwheel!
"No need looking around wearing a frown, you been sitting down on me for years; so
have no fear. No it's not the weed, you're seeing clearly, so sit down and listen to me."
I sat down in utter shock, resting my buttocks. As my chair began to explain.
"No Jimmy you're not going insane, but I feel you're causing me harm. I have burns,
scratches, now dust all along my arms. I'm left with a permanant frown. I desperately need
a rub down. I don't wanna be mean, but get some disinfectant and clean. The way I'm living
is obscene!"
No more explanations were needed. So after a good wipe down it was obvious I had
succeeded. My lazyboy's black leather had a nice shine. Now I wanted to rest my spine.
"Ah I feel so much better. Now I can go back into a deep sleep. You can go back
enjoying your weed or nicotine. Just remember my hygiene, and from time to time give me
a clean - Thank you."
I could have sworn my lazyboy gave me a wink. I shook my head, tomorrow I would
go see a shrink!
For Matt Caliri contest "Spea Chair! Speak!
Dirt Roads
Hello ole friend, I’ve visited you before.
What can you tell me, what news is in store?
You read like a book, imprinted and deep.
I know there are secrets, you like to keep.
Let’s see what’s gone by, and traveled your way.
Unusual footprints or tracks I might say!
Looks like ole Fred’s been here with his truck,
And after the rain, looks like he got stuck.
Small stroller wheels and a couple small feet
Pulling a wagon, that kid is so sweet.
I see some new rocks jumped up from down under
And oops there’s that pothole, new rattles asunder.
You carry the brunt of Nature’s worst weather.
I see where the flood washed out Sara’s heather.
Now here aways, fences embrace
Where wildflowers blooming, no curb to efface.
And now through the hollow, the trees all adorn
Like trumpets announcing this majestic morn.
The deer and her fawn, new prints in the snow
Your cold shoulder is icy, in minus below.
And yet dear old friend, my thoughts turn to you.
You haven’t changed much, you’re one of a few.
No concrete, no asphalt, no white lines or yellow.
No signs and no limits, you’re a polite kind of fellow.
The stories you’ve seen as each day may pass
The history made, the silence of past
Are imprinted here, upon your great crest
More than my years, you’ve stood the test.
Horses and wheels, motors and tires,
Footprints and hopscotch, puddles and miers.
You’ve seen it all from beginning of time
And still your pure beauty so easy I find.
And now I arrived the place I call home
You’ve guarded me safely when I’m all alone.
I wonder how often anyone cares
How great has your day been, traveling there?
In her room decorated like a princess’s, she sat quietly on the floor.
Carefully wrapping a small gold box and keeping an eye on the door.
She twirled the silver ribbons and tied it on the wrapped box.
Made a pretty bow and hid the gift in the draw with her socks.
On the Morning of his birthday, she jumped up on his bed
And smothered him with butterfly kisses on his cheeks and forehead
“Happy Birthday Dad” she said excitedly and handed out her present.
He sat up and hugged his little girl who was definitely God sent.
He slowly undid the wrappings and admired her creativeness.
For it was the little things she did that made his life full of bliss.
But when he opened the box there was nothing there that he could see
A little confused he said “my angel, the box seems empty”.
With her soft angelic voice, came the most priceless reply
“They’re Butterfly Kisses I blew for you, dad, for when I’m not nearby.
I know you can’t see them, but it’s filled with my love too for every time you have a bad day at work and when you are feeling blue.”
He smiled and hugged her tight and tried to hide the tears.
For his little girl of six years old is wise beyond her years.
And whenever he has a bad day and his little girl he misses.
he just opens the little gold box to receive her love and butterfly kisses.
Betty and Johnny, who were seven and eight,
lived close to the zoo, very near the front gate.
They visited often, with their mom and their dad,
and always told Gran about the fun that they had.
One day as the wind blew through the Crumpledink trees'
tickling the crinkly bright yellow leaves.
Johnny and Betty decided to play,
out on the porch, where they'd stay there all day.
They opened the door, but to their surprise,
a blue fuzzy creature, smallish in size,
jumped up from the chair and stretched out his hand.
"Pleased to meet you my friend," his words rather bland.
"Who are you?" said Betty with a sheepish grin
as she held out her hand and his fur touched her skin.
"I am what I am, and my name is that too,
I'm a Grrreeble," he said, "and I live at the zoo."
"Then what are you doing here at our house?"
asked Johnny, his voice squeaked like a mouse.
"I saw you at the zoo in the star gazing dome.
You seemed so nice, I followed you home."
"But you can't stay here," Johnny croaked like a frog, "So,
back to the zoo, to the zoo you must go!"
Betty looked at the Grrreeble and said, "This may be hard..,
You know mom said we can't leave the yard."
But Betty, Oh Betty, what will we do,
How will we get Grrreeble, back to the zoo?
The Grrreeble just sat, head in his hands
"Johnny, I think that you don't understand."
Then he said, "I don't wish to go back to the zoo,
I like it here, I'll stay here with you."
Betty looked at Johnny and giggled with glee,
"Can we keep him? I want him to stay here with me."
"No", Johnny said, "No we can't, no, No, NO!
as soon as he can, to the zoo he must go!"
Johnny looked at the Grrreeble and said with a sigh,
"We really do like you, but we must say goodbye."
So they played for a little
games like frosty fooks frittle
with bright red hats and dressum up clothes
and loud frustal whistles, you blow through your nose.
Then later that morning after eating their brunch
they made him a sandwich, dinklebutter and jelly, to take for his lunch,
and turning away Grrreeble said, with tears in his eyes,
"Thanks, it's been fun, to play with you guys."
Now often they visit their friend at the zoo
with a dinklebutter sandwich, they hope you'll come too.
9/17/2015
Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...
Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his final ride
In a desparate bid
Banged on the coffin lid
But all he could hear was laughing outside...
Written 17th June 2021
Then someone shouted can you hear banging
It was quite faint because folks were singing
The sheriff prised off the lid
And he was so glad he did
Because he thought we'll have us a hanging...
Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry
Resigned himself to the fact that he'd die
Saw sheriff holding a rope
Realised there was no hope
And for unlucky Jim the end was nigh...
He was taken to the gallows in town
Handcuffed and wearing nothing but a frown
Jim was then starting to choke
But with the drop the rope broke
The crowd screamed as poor Jim came tumbling down..
Unlucky Jim jumped up quick as a flash
As he passed the bank ran in and grabbed cash
He stole the first horse he saw
Then let out a loud yee haw
And for sweet freedom he made a quick dash...
Written 19th June 2021
A bounty hunter called Nevada Slim
Went after bank robber Unlucky Jim
With tracker Spirit Bear
They discovered Jims lair
And Jim's future was now looking quite grim...
Slim called out "put your hands in the air"
Jim grabbed his gun, Slim said "don't you dare"
But Jim was too fast
And let off a blast
Slim fell dead then Jim shot Spirit Bear...
Jim quickly packed his things and rode away
Thankful that he'd survived another day
He decided to lie low
But what old Jim didn't know
Was that Pinkertons were heading his way...
Jim was sleeping in the afternoon sun
And didnt hear the cocking of a gun
He woke up with dread
Saw guns at his head
And a lawman said "Jim looks like your done"...
Jim was handcuffed and they rode back to town
There to meet them was Sheriff and Judge Brown
The charges were read
Jim nodded his head
Sheriff said " this time Jim you're going down" ...
For Jims last request he asked for a smoke
And noticed the hangman had a new rope
He put a hood on Jims head
Jim dangled then he was dead
An escape this time!, there wasn't a hope...
Written 1st July 2021
RIP UNLUCKY JIM
Lost in the valley of indecision
Forever caught between here and there
My mind is divided, my soul is torn
And monstrous phantoms are everywhere
There's neither light, nor is there darkness
Here in this barren oasis of grey
Trapped somewhere in between questions and answers
Groping and grasping to find my way
I'll lose my mind if I go on performing
This balancing act between madness and death
A stand is needed for yea or for nay
Or else very soon I may draw my last breath
Deciding that I cannot make a decision
Embracing the madness instead of this yoke
The phantoms encroaching, I suddenly jumped up
And out of this horrible nightmare I woke
© Mike Wise
9/17/14
My Darling Arabella
So much I have to tell her
Of times gone by when life was sweet
When no one felt the need to Tweet
We packed a picnic ready to eat
And walked for miles, oh such a treat
Back then when life was simple
When life was oh so sweet
Playing hopscotch on the pavement
Roller skating down the hill
But sometimes when we went too fast
Bang! Crash! We had a spill
But we jumped up really quickly
No time to sit and weep
Back then when life was simple
When life was oh so sweet
Playing outside in fresh clean air
I yearn for those innocent days
We didn’t need Phones or Selfies
Just being with friends, having fun, acting plays
Talking and laughing, our life was complete
In those tranquil days life was simple
When life was oh so sweet
I often think of the books that I read
At the end of the day when I lay in my bed
The Famous Five, Heidi, memories I kept
Inside my head - as I dreamt, whilst I slept
No blue lights to keep me awake half the night
No TV or Tablet and no need to Tweet
Just dreaming about the fun with my pals
Oh those halcyon days life was simple and sweet
written for my darling granddaughter
Contest Strand Choice S
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st Place
The day had started normally and no way had I reckoned
when Mum had washed the breakfast pots that stardom was to beckon.
Waiting on the pavement, passing dogs who were not used
to what they saw, jumped up and barked- their owners looked bemused.
Total strangers, pretty girls, the driver of the bus,
they all queued up to talk to me and some made quite a fuss.
The older folk asked how I was and Mum told them I'm healthy,
the younger ones with phones in hand sneaked up and took a selfie.
A nurse though rarely raised a brow when we walked through the door,
a veteran of lads like me she'd seen it all before.
In A&E* she commented "Lad, let it not be said
you'll ever be short of company with a saucepan stuck on your head".
(*A&E- Accident and Emergency)
It was her kitchen, her family, and my newly-married man, and I aimed to please her by properly being fed.
With a smile and a swish, “We have butterscotch pudding pie for dessert!” My brand spanking new mother-in-law said.
Her excitement had no knowledge of the instant memory of horribleness that leaped instantly to my own quickly confused head.
I tried to take an invisible pretend bite while the family all watched, eagerly waiting but my traitorous mouth played dead.
Tears filled my eyes, as I was unnaturally smothered with the sad, angry hurt of my long-ago favorite butterscotch pie.
The feelings came so damned fast, I could not stop them at all or even slow them down, and they surrounded me, and made me cry.
When I was eleven, my family of origin was in the kitchen, laughing, and playing, and goofing around.
When the phone rang, I was asked to get it, because it was wire-attached to the wall, and I was the closest to the retched sound.
I had never heard my mother wail or keen until that day, certainly never heard her yell, “DICK!” or fall without any game to play.
Our big Dad jumped up faster than we had ever seen, grabbed rag-doll Mom before she hit the kitchen counter in a not so great way.
We all turned pure white, which was odd because we were usually pink. Fascinated, yet, hungry, I took my first bite, and heard the words “Mom is dead, and Dad’s dead too.”
We kids started shaking, sad and scared. Grandma and Grandpa were our king and queen. When things calmed down in a second or two that damned butterscotch pie tasted like glue.
Everyone wailed wild-eyed, faces red. The cousins came, and we huddled together and cried and screamed how great it was sob, sob, that they both went to heaven.
Yes, I know that was many years ago but when my feelings took my body over loud and clear, they clamped my mouth tightly shut, because I was back to 11.