Best Lazed Poems
He pulled up to the Triple "T" Ranch in a shiny Cadillac.
In his trailer was an Arabian steed with the finest tack.
He wore Tony Lama alligator boots and Calvin Klein jeans,
And a stylish Stetson hat - he looked like a man of means!
He strode to the corral where grizzled cowpokes lazed.
They chortled at the greenhorn, each of them amazed!
"Where's the boss?" he asked, "I'm seeking a position!"
"Over yonder" said they. (The boss eyed him with great suspicion!)
The boss sauntered over to see what the hullabaloo was all about.
"I'll handle this! You fellers git back to work!" he said with a shout!
He sized up the lad saying, "Son, I ain't impressed with them fancy labels!
But you're hired! Here's a shovel! Ya kin start by muckin' out them stables!"
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Green Humor Rhymes" Contest
An angel, he appeared one afternoon -
amazing, amorous, and alluring.
Beguiling her with beautiful ballads,
how splendidly he bewitched her!
Long languorous summer days they lazed
in a field of daffodils
as she lay blissfully in his brawny bronzed arms
looking lovingly into his eyes -
those baby blues with long lush lashes.
Seventeen were they. Their first love it was -
a lovely flirtatious and fabulous first love.
Suddenly, it all just stopped.
Sent away to serve in war,
her sweetheart sadly disappeared with barely a Sayonara.
Several seasons swept away
like brown leaves in September’s breezes.
Studying at school, sometimes she recalled
with longing - the love of her young life
and the boyish glee in his bright blue long-lashed eyes.
Unbeknownst to her, her lost boyfriend
was back from his lonesome barracks
and the bloody battlefields of an awful World War.
Back was he, though limping from a bullet to his leg
and looking for the love of HIS young life.
Seventy-seven years later,
see them sauntering together
in a field of daffodils
situated by a house he built for her -
two lone centenarians
with grown twin sons and seven grand-kids.
Their lasting love was lost but only for a blink
of their long lifetime -
a lifetime of lovely marital bliss
that envelopes them still with bountiful blessings.
March 31, 2022
for My Lost And Found Love Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
***At the bequest of a friend
or two this poem is a
continuation of Tennyson''s
'Ulysses'; though I don't
expect much glory for this
write, it was one of my
finer poetic attempts;
especially Tennyson who
I think was perhaps the
best.Like Ulysses,
Telemachus, his son now,
speaks to the masses in my
continuation...***
" On the great mount I have stood,
upon the shoulders of my father,
Ulysses ----
and I too tasted of war and conquest
and the breadth of many soul;
'lesser' men have thirsted less
than I, and fell to vice;
What 'fair' dole to fortune that I have
drank a mighty more,
yet have lived to wake with warm wife,
though their faces haunt the drears
of night....
Hammer ringing Plains of Troy
where Zephyr sleeps her lair,
and whispers upon the world
peace ----
then war, and legions carrion,
then better days come round;
When the apple of life is a fairer fruit,
and the tenants of Mother Earth
wiser with their short stay,
teach soft love ----
and make mighty the low,
and not a stomach tis barren ----
But alas! ----
Many moon has passed
since Odysseus walked The Isle
and pledged a greater good,
and 'tis darker yet lighter
these strange 'new' days
swift with doom, yet hope ----
resting always in her Helicon Hills;
The happy Isles lie 'neath the heart
which beats a tender song,
spirit of the Brae and vales.....
and the seas with their threshing ----
now they long the Lover''s Field.....
and Artemis to rear thy golden Kin,
the morning star thy diadem,
Aeonian with ancient youth;
Too long have the people wailed! -----
yet as deep earth must cry they -----
to the gods,
with one voice in the booms of thunder
and cracks betwixt the brooding night;
For justice too often sleeping
in her shady slumber.....
.....the snoring lion lazed
and stretched out in the fields of Troy,
The tongue-less Voice would call them
Lords of Peace;
(End of Part One)
We lazed in the sun, a small town square;
I ate a croissant while we were there;
she had a coffee, and I, a tea.
I glanced at her, and then she at me.
Somewhere in France, not sure even where;
Sunday, people coming from prayer.
We thought to ourselves, “what do you see?”
“Is this quite how you thought it would be?”
Under a hat, a lock of gray hair;
slight tarnish on the silverware.
A leaf slow, gently fell from a tree
and landed softly upon your knee;
its rusty fall red, a scar to wear.
We sit still awhile; we look, we stare;
“I so love you still,” you say to me,
“I you too, as it should always be.”
The Way We Look Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Date wrote: 11th December 2022
Lacovia road
Here once the bambo trees
Dance like native girls
In native half-nakednesss
And farmers trudge a way
Not so long nor forbidding now
Along the banks where lizards lazed
A scampering of children
And trees are with sturdier concrete replaced.
The slant of rain obscures the dry of sun.
Lacovia road
I cannot tell which house you use to live
My old landmark
Of public standpipe is gone
And perhaps lovers
Meet in virtual space of idleness
Instead of where the gossip flowed
And fill the empty lives
With long leashes of control
Dripping from tireless tongues.
Lacovia road
And a fluttering dust of memory
Like paper littering the school yard
New mansions are strewn among the grass
Old cottages gone
Gone too the wattle and daub familiarity
Where we huddled out of the rain
And shared bammy and avocado
And old stories of Kujo crawling through the sugarcane
Among the crocodiles and in their skin
And the British fright to see the thing
Up like rabbit running for more than life
Lacovia road
And the big river still brims below
The old capital
Rearing for recognition without the mango trees
And shrimp sellers at the side of road
Without women burdened with cassava load
I long to smell the fry fish still
These stable buttress of the old economy
Replaced by the late coming
And harsh selection of a spindly modernity
Juxtaposed against a vast and ancient history
Of moments eternal.
With grace he jumps upon my lap,
deep humming in his throat.
He licks his soft, white mitten'd foot
and grooms his midnight coat.
Then settles down and settles in,
like many times before:
in all those springs and winters
since he came to my front door.
He’s never wrought an unclean act
inside my house . . my home.
He's shed a bit, but never even
dragged a dead rat home.
He's lazed about inside and out,
while others did not last.
His years pile up alongside mine,
with nearly nineteen passed.
I sadden thinking of the friends
that left me through those years.
His time as well, grows shorter now,
along with mine, I fear.
But he knows nothing of this truth,
as he settles in my lap.
No dread upon his whiskered face,
this loving, gentle cat.
And as he holds sly death at bay,
for as long as he can fend;
I hope and pray a peaceful trip,
escorts him to his end.
Circling above on a sun shiny day
The raven twirls within his dreams
Of horrors soon to be inflicted
Soaring in the skies
The Preacher reads from the holy book
Collections duly collected on chanted psalms
The raven above with a sinister smile
He knew god’s plate was not full enough
Dark clouds from the east flew with the wind
Under the ravens command
As lightening struck the village steeple
Fire and brimstone, hell on earth
Humans who once lived by their daily bread
Became the bread of crows
Telegraph poles free to weep the news
As the crows feasted on the burnt flesh of our sins
The ravens’ heart pleased to share his torment
Amongst the brethren of feathered dark angels
The greed of humans shall be ridden of this earth
Crooned the raven under the spotlight of the devils moon
All were dead, the children too
All but one lone poet, so it seemed
Arms outstretched, clasping at pen and ink
Dying, dying to tell this black tale
Now, in tranquility, lies the village graveyard
Somber, quiet, flowers cover the horrors
Of that unholy day, of the ravens sins
His laughter echoes, echoes the pain
It is said, in the heat of summer nights
Crows sing and dance
As they feast on the remains
Of us, all of us, poets and all
Beside the village in the swamp
On that a very somber twisted day
An alligator lazed upon the shores
She, the only witness, to this feathered fiendish crime
In stealth she watched, scales of justice
A billion years of Gods creation
She slithered towards the stench of death
Teeth primed for an easy meal
A baby, oh so small, shivering in a fog of illusions
Looked into the eyes of the raven above
She saw that hell may very well come from above, not below
She resigned her baby cries to eternity, momma dead and gone
The alligator, teeth sharpened by natures instinct
Darted forth, and jaws stretched, swallows the baby whole
Slithering back towards the swamps shadows
The raven provided this nights’ meals gratuit
She spit out the baby, and licked her cheeks
Providing both substance and loving warmth
Hell may live above
Mercy and compassion may come from the swamp
High in the sky
The Raven
Lost this little one
The Butterfly smiled
Spray fertile soil with citrus sun.
Pick Oleander in spring rain.
Relive the April of our love
In budding blooms, down garden lane.
Nest hatching eggs in verdant hands.
Gift misty eyes with rainbow views.
Innate, our dreams for joy and light
Spur romance birthed in floral hues.
Come spring, refresh earth lazed in snow!
Ornately jeweled, she shall not wait.
Meandering through lushest greens,
I hear wind songs young ones create.
Nearby, a river swells with life -
Goslings and ducklings swim in line.
Softly, we kiss atop new shoots
Of Queen Anne's lace on banks divine.
Our ode to Oleander dawn
Nestled in limbs of spring days gone.
Written 3/20/17 for Spring Is Coming Soon Contest
Waterfalls here and there sprout (A)
From the bottom of the mountain (B)
Monkeys and apes are gamboling (C)
Comfortably, somewhere on the leafy soil (D)
On trees top, snacking from the wild fruit (A)
Gathered, seemed as they had a summit (A)
Somewhere wavering on the tree (E)
I were alone blatantly beside the pond (F)
On the body of the botched trunk (G)
Which were beside the spring water (H)
That flew rhythmically in the middle of the forestry (E)
Wending, looking good bye me and the place peacefully ( E)
The nugget, pebble, and the sand was seen ( I)
In the pure water lazed beneath the bottom ( J)
Little fishes were swimming dreading nothing a hook (K)
And I were not a cruel boy to show them a slash of bread (L)
To trick and eat them for my hunger and fun ( I)
Nature was delicious by itself why i did them stun (I)
I had no girlfriend but I were loved a blossomed lass (M)
She was my high school grade mate, so beautiful (N)
A shy, not seen when she talk and play (O)
With boys like me and teenagers (P)
A virgin of the south Ethiopian of that epoch’s class (M)
I were dreaming here beyond my memory mass (M)
Alemseged’s Alphabetical Rhyming Scheme style
Oh, my boyhood love had an agony of sagacity (Q)
Wishing greedily day and night losing many sleeps (R)
Being frail to say I love you snatched the aplomb (S)
Observing in heart and mind surrendered without fighting (T)
A different perspective on a dimension of beauty (Q)
A yearning of having her, an itching of victory (Q)
My childhood village, the forest, the mount, the cliff (U)
The two lakes, Abaya and Chammo, God’s bridge ( V)
They couldn’t told me how to get the bloomed aroma (W)
They couldn’t helped me how to say I love you (X)
But they whispered the song through wind that riff (U)
By Knowing my secrets, searched from my heart’s shelf (U)
Where are you now the un kissed flower of the ere (Y)
The bud and bold, the desired scent as the Mexican dahlia (Z)
I think now, the time is go on you were my potent age flare (Y)
You are my boyhood nostalgia, as of a shadow of acacia (Z)
May 29,2021
Too often I have forgotten the nectar
of welcomed recollection,
Having been lazed out
in Sylvan grasses green,
lounging upon the footstool of the world.....
where the wood marries the wedded waters,
where the songster sings from his hooded perches ----
Where the dream is ripe,
with long, easeful melodies;
With wind chasing the swooning dapples....
A short sleep in the lilting sky for a pampered muse,
Could life be sweeter in some ghost-clap mansion hall?
where the forest doesn't whisper in the womb of a man's soul?
***(A plea for a swift arriving Spring/Summer....)***
When I was young,in summer sun
the excitement of life,just begun,
hours seemed like days, and days
by brooklets,still,we lazed;
When I was young,in poverty
simple pleasures were had ,for free
improvisation was our key,
for sport,fishing or climbing tree;
When I was young,before tv
books and radio were for me,
putting a face to voice and place
the birth of creativity.
Frugal times,spent so close to home
sans shopping malls and telephone
Twinkly bunch with loaded school bags
Ambition injustice and itching their backs,
Cunning those faces in front of the gate
Heedful pupils well-chosen apparently late.
A fistful primary breeziness
Shared with smiles, tears and silliness,
Together they brawled, together they fiddled
At times they often complained to be differentiated.
Kiddo little minds and parents appeared unjustified
They cried, they blamed and they lazed,
Loaded by books and rat raced tutelage
They pass by a very dignified teen-age.
Out from the custody of cynosure
Together they stepped towards Lyceum liberty,
Few were classed and few remained united
The formers became edified and rests were unidentified.
A masked – small compliments and the evening aloha
The river side sunset appeared to be ambiguous –
A fiesta time boogie and the overnight cockeyed
At times such occasions made them to blab out their twinkly time.
Grown up as buddies and with time they rationalized
Affairs, status and outlook made them more gratified,
Traits made them parted and one cried in solitary
The formers humiliated the frailer and the frailer remained solely.
Lost in their computations, explores and technological justifications
Few carried out degree uprightly and few were abased shamefully,
Bucketed with knowledge, numbers, meetings and self-worth
They neglected those twinkly smiles who were grown up with assorted life.
Few became responsible and few got hold of ménage
Few were invited and rests seemed out of the sight.
Hearsays few get together known to be friendly trinity
Yet there also they lived with different hierarchy.
Left away life they sacrificed the age of assorted life
One who lived with it can now front the barbarous life.
They lost themselves to their twinkly buddies’ mobilization
Upcoming in their lives they will surly come by friendly exoneration.
Dated: 18/01/2010
She'd spent the day on the beach, all alone,
as skies of morning peach turned amber gold.
Silence broken by cries of gulls, echoing her own
as waves were curling; over the ocean they rolled.
She lazed in a hammock strung beneath palm trees,
trying to erase from memory the words he spoke.
His voice drifted on the wind of a warm summer breeze.
Utterances about the promises he'd made then broke.
She read a little, did too much thinking, mostly slept.
It was exhausting to do nothing and yet feel so jaded,
unless of course she counted the hours she'd wept.
A shadow fell across her face when sunlight faded.
Stones I Have Known
I know that stone - scoured smooth beneath the tread
Of workers' feet too early out of bed.
It sparkled finely to my childish sight,
A treasure rare, lit up by morning light.
Its drooping lip a quiet toddler's seat
For gazing out at life along the street.
At Junior school, the stones were black and grim,
High walls around to keep us all within.
The seashore stones provided wealth untold,
On mudstone flats glint ammonites as gold.
And Oh! that rock still there upon the beach,
There was a time it soared quite out of reach.
Much later then, the stones that edged the moors,
Of grit and dark the wildness there endures,
Drew up our youthful spirits high aloft
To bleak lands, ancient trackways, peat bogs soft.
In coastal city, built on trembling clays
And windswept mudbanks, were my student days
Swift spent beside the chain-worn granite blocks
Which formed the landscape of th' ancient docks.
The stones of London were a different breed,
Erected there to grace a civic need.
The Cenotaph, old Nelson and the rest,
Erratics planted raw at our behest.
In foreign parts, on beaches where we lazed,
By lava sheets - rough frozen in such crazed
And weird anthropomorphic shapes and planes.
When trippers leave the vista pure remains.
I know those stones on sparkling river bed.
New children play arranging pebbles, red
And white. It makes a pleasant place to sit -
I stay awhile rememb'ring all of it.
My final stone I do not know at all.
I haven't seen it yet as I recall.
* donkey stone --soft sandstone historically rubbed on the edge of a doorstep to create a pale line so that the edge is easier to see.
Tiny little glittered droplet
mingling the inner ear
of a heart protected by armlet
of a puzzle that never fear
doves flying in solitude freedom
caught the eye of a kid hence
followed the dove in random;
shuttered th' lost being sense
alighted th' dove an lazed e're
curiously th' kid looked hence
in th' eyes of th' bird an fur
hushed in him thou felt tense;
alike he felt th' bird
an suddenly felt dense
Finally th' kid were heard
from a dove thou soft
cured him an purred
shocked his face was doffed
joyfully beaming a cry
how doth never said goodbye
an flee where th' other's lie
escaped th' kid from th' spy
an let thy heart take his eye;
hiked he for days alone
searching for thou only friend;
a journey was then a hint
of life an many other precious gifts
given by nature to a kid