Best Knock Down Poems
There are twenty four days
left to Christmas and already
small children dream of toys;
isn't there a better way
for them to forget the cold
and see some magic unfold?
Skinny Willy has built a snowman,
he's getting ready for a winter's tan;
his cheeks are turning red like strawberries,
but funny is his belly stuffed with jellybeans
and California sweet cherries...
he has shaken many trees!
He and Santa make a perfect pair,
munching on a delicious eclair;
oh, laugh skinny Willy: beware of naughty Billy...
he will knock down your snowman so quickly!
Skinny Willy has built a snowman
with a grim face and a funny chin;
all he wants is fast Christmas music and eat
mom's ginger cookies while swinging his long feet!
Written on 12/1/ 2016
At times coming unglued
delaminated
Strands separating
vaguely holding their shape
I breathe in the breath of delirious spirits
swimming in circles around a splintered mind
I reach oblivions doorstep
cross the threshold
no bride in hand
yellowed fabric clinging to palms
I look out empty windows
reflecting the light of expended stars
I dream colored memories in spurts of black and white
draped over yesterdays celebrations
candles burnt at both ends
cakes with no surprises
Medals long tarnished
glitters that were never gold
Looking at darkened perspectives lit in the corners of my mind
wishing I could understand the point
blocks used to build knock down buildings
is anything made to last
what truly exists beyond a cybernetic world
keyboards stretched along distant desks
searching for answers
revealed stroke by stroke
interconnecting the unconnectable masses
Minds intertwined
grasping
at times coming unglued
I had another poet Marquis ask me to critique one of his poems and I suggested that if a line in the poem was not worthy of writing another poem he should consider taking it out. as a result I took a line from the poem I wrote for Drake and gave it a try, this is the result. My other poem was titled "Contorshinist's Test"
When you realize it, nothing is funny.
Not every day in the business world is sunny.
Stormy weather comes when the barometer falls.
There can be gale force winds to knock down walls.
For days like this, stash some cash away.
Have money available for a rainy day.
Inspired by another member's poem
When the night arrives beating its wings fiercely like the first real storm,
you can knock down the stars of heaven with one blow if you try.
Betwixt two sides
protection from the devil
a blend of calm and chaos
separate the twins
and the iron doors appear
a prison of one’s making
Do you think we’re better off, if we let the devil roam free? The killer, once restrained, now is on the loose. Do you think the conscience of the good, gets off scott free? Do you mingle with your base side? Do you hide behind your good, but still entertain the fireball in your hands? Do you knock on doors with evil in your heart, but just enough of a mask to get by? I say let the Lord in; let his cross knock down your iron will, willingly; let Christ set you free! The fire you feel is purifying; the Spirit inside, comforting. The breath that fills your lungs, reborn; your heart in lovely form - its chambers freely flow with peace and love.
1/23/2023
The other day while rummaging in a closet I was instantly overcome with joy
when I ran across our storage bins filled with our children’s once used toys.
Toys our children and grandchildren played with when they were young and new…
Toys that don’t grow up…like children and grandchildren do
A set of nesting cups for the bathtub, noise makers and little bouncing balls
plastic telephones where every child made imaginary calls.
Toys that at one time were their favorites…
toys they once adored.
Toys that served their purpose
but don’t get played with anymore.
A bunch of bendy action figures…which much to our elation
our children and grandchildren used…
to fuel their imaginations.
Those thick little baby books, a stuffed doggie, soft and brown
wooden blocks with painted letters they'd stack up…
then knock down.
As I picked up a plastic microphone and a bunch of different tiny cars
I thought how every toy inside these bins are part of who they are.
Because each of these toys was special once…
because each had their own heyday
there’s no way we could ever throw them out…
no way we'll ever give them away.
So they live in quiet comfort…
who knows…
we may live to see the day
when great great grandchildren come to visit…
who will no doubt want to play.
“Hey I remember playing with this when I was your age!”
We imagine their parents will say
and we’ll sit back and we'll smile
as we watch a new generation at play…
I imagine there are toys like these
in closets all across the USA…
quietly resting in bins of their own…
patiently awaiting that day.n…
patiently waiting for that day.
Who
They’d say “who made you a man, young lad,”
It was my hard old father, bad,
He stood me up, and made me fight,
He taught straight left, knock down right.
And I was undefeated.
To always rise,
if you’re knocked down.
Attack, attack until you’ve won.
Though I’m still my mother’s son.
His words with me abiding.
To be a man at ten years old,
Work for a living, good as gold,
At droving, I was good I’m told,
horseman, wild horses, riding.
Don Johnson 11-jul-11
"The Right Tme" contest
Sponsored by: Michael J. Falotico
Rubbing boys shoulders with sunburn oil. The sun smiles at the pain, the brush of fingers against raw flesh. But like a war wound, those boys be proud. Offer them a salve and they scoff, don’t need that stuff. Head back to the beach. Nudge them with a board and a wave, and they take off, up to their knees, casting themselves into the sea. Cheeks and hairlines have enemies, but the boys will wait for the tan that turns them brown, puffed up, back to tell the tales to jealous schoolmates.
They won’t speak of palm trees, nor the hot sand; perhaps they will not even remember what to say, until a prompt. Perhaps they won’t shut up about the knock down, drag out fights with the ebb and flow of riptides.
They might not remember the food that filled their empty bellies, but they enjoyed each bite of burgers at Ford’s Garage in the oldest city in America. I heard from an eyewitness that it has ghosts, the city, not this particular haunt.
Packed like fish, we headed to Florida, having to use one of the back seats for the overflow of things. My oldest grandson had to endure his seat, likened to a ball turret gunner. But this pubescent heartbreaker, though cramped, loved the isolation.
Speed traps, speedy biker, ear-splitting emergency vehicles, pelicans;
and a swift breeze upon a chilly-sunburn covered up with a soft blanket and cozied up to grandma (of course this is the nine year old).
Trip back as the GPS constantly pushed us farther from home, not in miles but in minutes and hours. But the miles moved quicker than a remembered icestorm where I couldn’t get home (only 10 minutes away), so like all long travel, the kids got their first taste, and survived.
So much to say, but signing off…
Tick Tock, Tick Tock
One second, two seconds
And it
won't
stop
Every minute counts, ever seconds that is passing by I see the time being wasted over nothing, why
Why
Can't I stop the time
Just to rest and to take in my surroundings
To gain confidence and set up a sense of safeness in my mind
As if the future is gonna settle itself down
As if there is something such as a saved future
Tick Tock, Tick Tock
I'm still talking, time's still passing, I'm still crying, time's still laughing
Shoving in my face those seconds I'll never get back
What I could be doing right now instead of writing this down
Building my future up, letting my walls down
And it's ticking and it's tocking sweat is trickling down
I could knock down pull down tear down every single clock in this town to the ground
But time won't stop
Tick Tock, Tick Tock
Team players shake hands good luck
Shoot scores the hockey puck
The soccer player kicks the ball
The sky diver takes the fall
The football player must run fast
All winners first or last
A little white ball and a tee
A game of golf or maybe rugby
The skater twirls with such grace
The prize horse comes in first place
The Olympics draws a big crowd
Monster trucks are very loud
Base ball has the fly ball
The referee makes the call
Wrestling well i find that fake
A race with boats on the lake
Roll the ball and knock down the pins
The whistle blows see them swim
From the bleachers comes cheers and screams
Volleyball played in teams
The highest mountains they like to climb
The race car hurries to the finish line
You should really consider if your tall
Getting in to playing basketball
liking sports to watch or play
Win or loose thats okay
The Storm
Black rimmed skies,
Clouds with no lining of silver,
Gusts of wind,
Trees protesting,
With a dance on the horizon.
Rumblings of thunder,
Flashes of lightening,
Animals and humans,
Caught up in the melee,
While scurrying to the shelter,
Of their de-roofed abodes.
A deluge of wetness,
Spattering on the pavement,
Cascading into drains,
Loaded with the debris,
From a disenchanted metropolis.
Steering-happy drivers,
Punishing crying jalopies,
Meandering through the gridlock,
They almost knock down children,
Glorying in the rain.
But the end, was also the beginning,
The damage done: great!
Before any got home,
The sun was up smiling,
In adulation for the rain,
For a job well done.
so you say
your turning
twenty-one years old
today
Hootie Hoo!
happy birthday
and you want
some advice
on the game
of life
so you don't
get played
okay! baby
you know
you just came
to the wrong
place?
so this is the
first thang
i would say
been over
touch your
knees
because
your about
to take
a real spanking
life isn't what
you may think
you'll reach up
you'll get knock down
and sometimes
you can only partially
stand
your ground
it will
only hurt you
more
than
it hurts
me
see
i had
my dream
flash right
before
my eyes
they left
so quickly
i didn't even
see
them die
if i had
scratched
my head
then something
would had fell
right out
and what would
it have said
find someone
smarter than you
and go
to a library
or two
read a book
on how
you'll need
a legal team
and an army
of witnesses
to surround you
there, there
boo
don't
be mad
yo!
i just
had to let
you know
put your mental fists
up
and bring
your A game
and get ready
to fight
because
behind every
smile
is
someone ready
to push
you out
of line!
with rumors
and lies
and mean
**** bullying
and lets
not forget
the best
for last
stealing
your
one of a kind
make you
rich ideals
so get a safe
and a lock
and a very
good key
tied around
a lawyer's degree
so someone
will have
your back
p.s. go get 'em. ("go get them," and) never trust a smile unless its in writing! and than read the small print - so you won't get any surprises.
and never tell someone your secrets! no matter how friendly they are. my bills in the mail that will be ¢50. (50 Cent)
aka: lyricvixen
Debbie Guzzi
Contest Name
For Love of Language
Cricket-Rounders
A new bloodsport in the town,
We call it Cricket-Rounders,
The bowler runs up to the pitch, (22 yard run)
And the bouncer surely crowds ya, (rising ball gets ya)
A cricket ball as hard as iron,
At a hundred miles an hour,
If it gets you in the head,
On ya grave we put the flowers,
So ya better wear head protectors,
Good gloves upon ya hands , (broke fingers)
Borrow Joel Garner from the West Indies yes, (world champ bowler, cricket)
He’d bowl ya outa the grand stand.
When ya run tween the bases, keep ya eyes upon the flic,
The ball is coming to knock ya down , with bruises bloody quick, (knock down yer out)
If ya hit the ball over the fence it’s a bloody six,
And to the boundary only four, so eat your weety bix, (3 strikes yer out)
11 men a side till they’re bowled or caught/knocked out,
Bruises are good for heroes, yes no bloody doubt,
A world wide game it is to be, a war on the field of battle,
Don’t forget to duck your head for sure,
Or yer brain might start to rattle…
Cricket bat or baseball bat for the batter. … Pad up…
Don Johnson invention 3-nov-11
You cannot quit
Quitting isn’t an option
Keep fighting
Keep rising
Give it all you got
Jump every hurdle
Knock down all barriers
Face all your giants
Like David against Goliath
Eye to eye
Toe to toe
In the Lord’s strength and might
You cannot quit
Quitting isn’t an option
With God all things are possible
Keep fighting
Not with words or violence
On your knees in prayer to God
He will work things out
You just keep doing what is right
And remember
Remember quitting isn’t an option
You must keep fighting
Languishing inside a cell(his demons) so fierce
and punishing; isolating loneliness pierce
the core of his misery. Every so often,
he feels claustrophobic, as if inside a coffin.
Many hours have passed, and he's been calling
out to no avail. His hands, bruised from pulling
on the padlock. His throat, hoarse from screaming
unheard. It's a hellish place! His spirit, depleting.
At nightfall, the scintillating ray of right
shining in, steals away. Near fight or flight,
he screams, and screams; there's no hope
for a rescue, and he's struggling to cope.
But he's not looking at the four walls trapping him closely.
There are cracks on one side of the wall; kicked forcefully
the wall will come crumbling down like a house of cards.
Kicked forcefully, it will shatter like glass shards!
I wish for him to break free like a fledgling in maiden flight;
to break free and soar up, up and away like a kite
I wish for him to knock down the wall of his prison
and break free, tasting the air like a Phoenix risen!
FEBRUARY WK 3 ANY FORM,ANY THEME,UPTO 20 lines
Sponsored by Brian Strand(Winner: 1st Place)
Date written and posted: 10/01/2016