Best Left In The Lurch Poems
PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A beaver bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair,
consuming crowns with utmost care
A crazed coyote fled her lair,
left in the lurch bewildered bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped, then hackled
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
ABANDONED AT THE ALTAR
You cast me aside
Like an unloved old rag doll
You no longer wanted me.
Jilted as your bride
Your betrayal took its toll
Where is my apology?
No explanation
Has been uttered by your lips -
I was waiting at the church!
Humiliation
As my life is torn to strips …
forsaken, left in the lurch.
Contest: Sedoka Contest
Sponsor Laura Loo
Checked with how many syllables 5,7,7,5,7,7
01~04~16
One Sunday, I came back alone,
Home early from the church,
Not having the key to get in,
I was left in the lurch;
Locked out in the scorching hot sun,
Looking for shade to stand,
Counting the vehicles go by,
I passed the time in hand;
Scolding myself for thoughtlessness,
I sat on "Jupiter",
Hoping my parents would come soon,
I waited undeterred;
Standing almost for one hour there,
Stuck outside my home zone,
In order to avoid the stares,
I tinkered with my phone;
That day, I learnt to be careful,
To check my handbag twice,
Be cool in all circumstances,
Be patient and precise.
09/18/17
*Jupiter - a two-wheeler brand
Form: Poulter's Measure
It makes me so sad
To see people afraid
But the governor called a lockdown
And it must be obeyed
I've got the COVID-19, the pandemic Coronavirus blues
And I'm getting more depressed whenever I turn on the news.
The stores ran out of sanitizer
And I felt like I was throttled
When the cheapest price online
Was $20 a bottle
So I went down to the pub
To get some space to think
But all the bars were closed
And I couldn't even get a drink!
I've got the COVID-19, the pandemic Coronavirus blues
And I get more depressed whenever I turn on the news.
It's been weeks since I've seen pals
And now I'm left in the lurch
I got dressed up Sunday morning
But I couldn't go to church
Everybody's staying home now
And there's not a car on the street
And I can't even talk to you
Unless I'm standing back six feet!
I've got the COVID-19, the pandemic Coronavirus blues
And I get more depressed whenever I turn on the news.
There are times when an object misplaced
Is the most pressing problem you've faced
For you search and you search
But get left in the lurch,
All that time you spent searching a waste.
If you're lucky, you'll find what's been lost
After each pile of stuff had been tossed
Yet it's possible that
You won't find where it's at
With frustration and sadness the cost.
Laying in my bed
There is nothing in my head
The night is growing mysterious
Time is going crawling by
I can see the pitch black sky
It’s silent every where
But I can feel the cool of the night air
I’m listening to the annoying tick tock sound of this wall clock
This still night made me realize, how lonesome we are
Just left in the lurch…In the middle of the night
Going to get a “haircut” today
Actually getting all of them cut
Cutting just one would hardly be noticed
Now I'm being a silly nut
There's many other sayings similar to this
English is overloaded I find
Wanna hear some others I've discovered
Well stay tuned it'll blow your mind
“Keep your nose to the grindstone”
Now THAT'S gotta smart I'd say
See what I mean, don't follow this advice
You'll feel pain from here to Sunday
How about this one, “eye candy”
It certainly has me bamboozled
“Less is more” is another that's confusing
Looking for others for your perusal
Here's another, “left in the lurch”
Pretty sure they meant left in the “church”
“Dead as a doornail” as dead as you can be
Gonna do a little more research
To “peter out” means to dwindle away
Has a certain sexual connotation
Put it back in, it's a public place
You'll be arrested for excessive potation
“I rest my case”, now here's another one
Wasn't even carrying a case
Okay gonna “put this thing to bed”
Yikes! Can't wipe this grin from my face!
© Jack Ellison 2013
POTATION
• the action of drinking something, esp. Alcohol:
I intend to abstain from potation.
• (often potations) a drinking bout:
the dreadful potations of his youth.
Feeling the spirit of rhymes moving through me,
I've been labelled as first fruits in this writing movement,
With improvements of thousands of years within this environment,
Preforming with these comments straight onto this poem submission form,
Letting you know I'm drawn by something within that transforms,
Thoughts into words in this order for ya as I search,
Within my own church I'm never left in the lurch,
As I feel the urge of letters coming together into words,
Words into lines and eventually into verses with no rehearsal,
With skill my mind roams all my brains zones and connects,
Cerebral cortex flex's as I detect what comes next,
Ya see I trust my subconscious and don’t see it as complex,
Giving it respect while I’m fully conscious,
With no distortion words come as different options,
Flawless questions and given constant insight of great proportions,
Never losing sight, I write with strength and might,
Like a mighty eagle soaring through the sky at height,
I invite my imagination to find me wisdom that’s right,
But how do I even know? I might be shown words that are false,
Could there possibly be faults within my brains biology?
Am I just a poetry wannabe? Probably………. Not,
I have lots of ideas that cross from a to b,
Being dots that find each other, then show me,
And even when I read a book, I cook up ideas and put them in my notebook,
But damn, I just looked at the time and this free rhyme needs to come to an end,
So I send out positive energy as I contend with this life while I transcend,
I bend rules and defend my ill skills that can keep going and going filling up a paper mill.
Quincy Mac
Date Written: 29.4.2016
To be predicted means that you’re the fruition,
Of a rational process, effortful and determined;
We can all predict that someone will soon cure cancer,
And so Jesus was foretold as medicine’s romancer.
The name Jesus Christ means predicted saviour,
And Isaiah 53 verse 5 states that he definitely would be,
Wounded by the government for the people’s freedoms,
But that because of his wounds society would be superior.
Those who were intelligent just before Jesus came,
Felt a wave of change in the medical field,
Where doctors only treated the families of the rich:
The intelligent said that such a wave would equality yield.
When Christ was stressed out, about to be arrested,
He forsook his medical mind and surrendered all to god;
You can see that the god thing is for trials by government,
Or today, trials by society when your stance is not odd.
Upon arrest, the soldiers wanted Jesus of Nazareth,
Not Jesus the son of god, or the Jesus of any divinity tribe,
And Jesus simply replied to them “I am he,” squarely and plainly,
Unlike at his trial, where for speech he had to be bribed.
The allegation was indeed productivity in profession,
His work skill, which came and grew from his family roots;
He got much social power from his healings and exorcisms,
As he had learnt the joinery trade well, had invented new shoots.
Caiaphus asked if he was a king from the miracles he did,
Miracles of course being new methods and techniques,
And he replied to Pilate that god, the church and he himself,
Determine his actions, that their lee-way is his health.
Jesus was popular at church, not amongst the government,
So it was informally considered to be his validator;
The question was whether the people still saw state over church,
For common order to be maintained and not left in the lurch.
He knew he would die for the good he had done in life,
So inaugurated communion to remember his cause:
Loving the weaker, lower ones no matter who they are,
Saying everyone should know that personally in applause.
The Passion of the Christ film 2004 used.
"‡ Captain Courageous ¥ Twirling & Swirling Atop The Tides Of Time ¥ Dropping A Dime In The Jukebox Sublime ¥ To Play One Last Song Amid A Sweeet Loves Rhyme ¥ Captain Courageous ¥ HaHa. to which he says "Halifax!" a confusing conundrum which he often slurs. a condition that rum gives his words. after being left in the lurch, for falling in love with a convienience. Captian Courageous with his mind swirling and twirling atop tides of confusion. sailing into "Oblivion". playing that one last song over and over and over again. the song like prophecy came true in the end. so true about the Capitain and his departed friend.
(collaboration with Ratchel St. Cross and The Situation)
’Twas about eight o’clock,
And I dreaded the knock,
The Carollers of pure light,
With such Christian might.
They were to be an example,
To my atheistically driven amble,
To encourage me to sing along,
In next years Christmas song.
My age and so my friends,
My calibre was not my ends,
So I didn’t come out my room,
Until nine o’clock did loom.
They grinned and laughed,
Evangelically so dashed,
But I kept my self dignity,
For no more ambiguity.
I never sang the next year,
With them, crooked in fear,
Awkwardly standing open,
Maybe to fall over stricken.
There was a disabled person,
At church, same condition,
But he was never normal,
As I was when informal.
Hymns never relaxed me,
Just petrified a lover to be,
So to demand on me disability,
Would’ve been inhumanity.
They talked to me at church,
About why I’d left in the lurch,
Families who wished a song,
Would in spirit come along.
So I just got over them,
Allegations and their stem,
Which set them up above,
The things that I do so love.
Robin redbreast on the ground,
Pecking, hunting all around
For a tasty worm or slug
Or a creeping, crawling bug...
Somehow you know where to search,
So you're not left in the lurch;
'Cause I know just how you'd feel
If you were forced to skip a meal.
Still, your choices don't entice,
Even with some salt or spice;
For if you offered me a worm,
I would decline - my answer firm!
When I was growing up in Brooklyn,
Which was way back when,
We’d always get just what we needed
In the Five and Ten:
Cosmetics, stockings, pots and pans,
Greeting cards and games;
Curtains, tablecloths and vases,
Clothes and picture frames.
Sundries (who knew what they were?),
45’s and candy;
Mops and brooms and other things
A housewife would have handy.
It was fun to browse the aisles
With friends right after school,
And sometimes have a malted
Sitting on a fountain stool.
The Five and Tens have shut their doors;
New stores cannot compare.
I sometimes need an item
That I can’t find anywhere.
Of course, there is the internet
To help me in my search,
But in the Five and Dime, I’d never
Be left in the lurch.
A year ago could we have guessed
we could be in bad times like this?
Where we'd be tethered to our homes
and could not our grand-children kiss?
It is lonely living alone
when none are allowed to stop by,
unless they stay six feet away.
It would make a stone grandma cry.
Easter came and then Easter left,
and we were left in the lurch.
We wondered how we could enjoy
Easter, without our loved church.
Political problems aside,
I truly am fit to be tied.
Why must we change our lives around
because someone in China has died?
It's because our world has shrunken.
We're only a few hours from there.
Bad things happen in any country
we in the USA must care.
We're coming back in short phases,
and no one in charge seems to care
that I'm needing my hair-dresser
to be able to do my hair.
By: Joyce Johnson
Will the sun ever set in Sitka?
For here the sun takes forever to say 'see ya'.
The clouds blush a pink, red, purple adieu,
As if they have forgotten what to do.
Left in the lurch, ever so shy,
Up they pop up to dance a sweet goodbye.
Like angels summoned to heaven's court
They leave under a rainbow, arching the port
The Sitka sunset, angry, fiery and bold,
Paints the sky in hues of ruddy bold gold.
The sizzling sun hisses as it flops into the sea,
Setting the long, lingering, languid day free.