Best Lewis Poems
The laughter and joy
This man did imbue us
Is vast beyond measure,
Our Dear Jerry Lewis ...
Oh, hearken the birds
Their new song of sorrow
For now we know why
Sol goes dark tomorrow.
They were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark,
Her name was Sacagawea.
On an expedition they did embark
Finding the passage to the sea.
Down the Missouri they traveled,
Then slithered 'round the Snake River bend.
Rocky Mountain weather and sickness battled;
At the Columbia River they'd end.
©2013 Honestly JT
Morning At Work
Impaired by his tremors
And a troublesome cough,
He turned fur into felt
Before cooling things off.
He drooled once or twice
And grew cold in his bones,
But he shaped all the felt
Into all of the cones.
Noon
His 'venomous vipers'
Grew restless again
And woke as the toxins
Played games with his brain.
He began to see strange things
And quickly grew scared
When the writing desk swooped
Like a ravenous bird.
Aware that his dark mind
Was now playing tricks,
He quit work forever
At ten shillings past six.
Night
He sat in The Tabard
Where he found time to think.
His skin had turned orange
As he drowned in his drink.
He recalled the sad day
His wife took off her ring
And with her cards on the table
Left to marry a king.
He pined for his daughter
And the party he'd planned
But she followed her mother
To that far-away land.
Later That Night
While carrying a tea tray
Upstairs to his bed
He tripped over his hat
He'd shook off with his head.
He finally came to
Around six the next night
But from that moment on
All his world was not right.
Morning
The Innkeeper checked his watch once again
Hoping the chef's feelings weren't hurt.
The last time they were, he arrived two hours late
And then left, serving just his dessert.
Sadly the chef, on this day of all days
Turned up filthy, flies open and drunk.
A black cat meowed as the chef stumbled in;
He was unkempt and cursing and stunk.
The Innkeeper's head sank deep in his hands
As he needed his chef to be right.
The Tabard was busy and fully booked up
And was hosting a meeting that night.
Noon
To make matters worse, the chef's wife appeared
It was NOT what was needed at all.
She grabbed at chef's hair and kicked open his shin
And threw dishes and plates at the wall.
The Innkeeper tried to separate both
As utensils flew wild through the air
Then chef lost his balance taking with him a shelf
And pepper dispersed everywhere.
The chef lay there slumped and silent and still
He was bloodied and bruised on the floor.
His wife and the Innkeeper looked at each other
As chef sneezed and then let out a snore.
Night
With her husband in clinic the chef's wife revealed
The reason as to why he was mad:
- "Earlier that day he had finally found out
He was not my child's natural dad.
He took all of my money and spent it on drink
And the police were then sadly involved.
He falsely accused me of harming my son
And that issue has not been resolved."
Later That Night
Nobody ate at The Tabard for nights
But the Innkeeper learnt something instead:
- "..So I am your lover AND the father as well"
He said smiling to chef's wife in bed.
I vowed I’d not replace my sweetest Holly when she died.
I found her loss so hard to bear,
her empty home just standing there,
so many days I cried.
Such a gentle creature, she had been my truest friend.
I taught her many words to say,
and tiny football games we’d play,
I loved her to the end.
But in a while I saw an empty home as something sad,
So Lewis came to live with me,
I brought him home in time for tea,
I wondered, was I mad?
They said I shouldn’t handle him that night, just let him rest,
but straight away when we got in
he nestled underneath my chin,
that feeling was the best.
Pretty soon he settled in, my home became his too.
Bright tail of red and feathers grey,
he learned new sounds and words each day,
our bond and friendship grew.
‘You are my sunshine’ is a song he sings the whole way through,
a cough, a sneeze, a squeaky door,
the sound of my heels on the floor.
Workman’s whistles, yawns and sighs,
joins in when next door’s baby cries
He asks me for ‘Some water please’,
‘mwah’ kissy sounds he makes in threes,
he worries ‘What’s the matter mate?’
and steals my veggies from my plate.
My feathered friend so very smart
has made his nest within my heart.
Lisa Lewis is CEO of Doorway, a project for the homeless and vulnerable. The woman is a legend.
Don’t mess with Lisa, she’s a scary
Far out full on punky fairy
Crowned with violent flowers and sage
And riding on her harnessed rage
Through tangled wood and thorny bower
To speak unsubtle truth to power
Don’t mess with Lisa, man, she’s scary
Wise be wise and fools be wary
For she will tread where no man goes
To seek those things that no one knows
Expect no mercy if you cross her
Best be right and not a tosser
Don’t mess with Lisa, she’s so scary
Medusa crossed with Virgin Mary
Bottle, balls, and Occam’s razor
Prosecco, throttle up, and tazer
Wild light to make a diamond shy
And tears forbidden from her eye
Don’t mess with Lisa, man, she’s scary
That’s one well effective fairy
Pierced with wisdom to the bone
Dark metal angel stood alone
Feared and loved by all she knows
A phoenix, from the darkness rose.
© Gail Foster 2016
YOUR INFLUENCE AT THE STARLIGE CAFE IS EPIC AND YOU ARE LOL
LEGEND OF LEGENDS
lesion in your mind...........LOL
** This poem is in memory of Jesse Lewis. Jesse was a six-year old boy who died in the Sandy Hook Shooting. Jesse died while leading the other children to safety.
He rides to the place of glory.
He rides to the place of the Lord.
Jessie will sometimes act like the pint-sized Scrooge to make the angels and people laugh and smile.
He had a lot of courage and love inside of him.
Now he will go horseback riding.
Helping people ride into the gates of heaven.
Around the Hills of Malvern now..Desecration takes place.'
Let me inform all how.' Where Elgars body has rested long
And Tolkien and Lewis did ramble in song.' all of these
Three historical giants, drew breath and inspiration none
Can deny it, seeds of thought in Lewis's mind grew into
Enchanted forests even braille did find it. And shared to
The world by many houses, published gems given to milions of children my imagination it rouses.' Gondor of
Middle earth from these hills Tolkien drew' its white walls
And turrets and hidden gardens shone through.' And Elgar twined the
Sough of its breeze.' The lambence of light in tones to
Please.' To refresh the spirits to inform the ears.' That grace
And beauty are to be played despite dread or fear.' In the face of
Hitler they were rehersed.' Indomitable riposte to wagners
Stuka played curse.' And now the enemy in different form
Under the cloak of green climate' snorts and paws cash
From rate payers is being put to miss-use..Same old trope
Of miss-infomation is now in use a commitie starved down
From twenty eight to six.!! Consolidating power the usual
Tricks.' Now two hundred new houses have been allowed
Concrete scars will be in situ where once fields were plowed.' Sacrilige plain in your face, ok'd by cronies yet
There is video trace.' I raise my eyes to Malverns hills I
Raise my pen, would it had quill.' I would despatch it to pierce the evil soul, of this cold committe let it be told.'
May litratures warriors get to the fire.' Email Malvern council the 'need is sore' let them know of the poets ire the
Revenge merits to be meted.' Justice must be requited.'
Back in the early 30's and 40's in Southern New Mexico
Was a traveling preacher watching over his herd
Never had a church like we know
He did a lot of his preaching where ever he would go
A Johnny Appleseed of sorts, spreading God's word
He always had a friendly hello
He would start his walk on the Rio Grande River
At Las Cruces and then north day by day
The Santa Fe Railroad gave him a life time ticket to ride
He always had goodness to deliver
At he end of the day, he had a house to stay
And pray with them once inside
The only denomination that he knew was preaching God's word
They were all the same to Preacher Lewis
And he would help anyone with a empty belly
He was one of the Lord's shepherds, watching over his herd
He would baptize a baby or settle a fuss
Did not take much to please him, could get by on toast and jelly
After the Depression, my Dad would see the preacher now and then
He was working in a lumber yard, one evening after work close by
He and some friends , stopped in a bar to drink a beer
Old Preacher Lewis came in
He said, "Boys, I need some help I cannot deny"
"I am not here to judge you or wonder why you are here"
"But boys, I have a family down the road, they have hit on hard times"
"If you can find it in your heart for a little change, let me pass my hat"
"Then I will be on my way to get them something to eat"
He said no more, within minutes the hat was full of nickels and dimes
There has to be a lot said for an old country preacher like that
Old Preacher Lewis, the preacher I never met
His ingeniously crafted Narnia glows
With so many wise and amazing prose
Love shining brightly through its text
So very eager for what comes next
This beautifully written tale’s foundation
Brought my own heart so much adoration
The lessons within its astonishing pages
Reminding me that this story truly engages
I was blessed to read it all word for word
And it was a world that I certainly preferred
The story brought about such tenderness
All the beautiful animals so tame and generous
No other artist holds so much of my respect
As this wonderous writer who is so perfect
November 4, 2019
Your Favorite Artist Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
A spore is placed upon my tongue
Hallucinagenic seed
Images will soon appear
As mushroom starts to breed
The body starts to tingle
As the mind begins to glow
Spiders crawl about the wall
And carpet starts to grow
TV speaks in foreign words
And music can be seen
Am I just a form of life
Or am I human being
Chairs begin to talk to me
In words of ancient sage
I write them with a pen that is
Connected to the page
I'm mezmorized in disbelief
At all the world around
I'm seeing every little thing
And hearing every sound
I look into the mirror
And I see me looking back
Or could it be that that is me
And I am looking back
I place my hands upon my face
I pull them toward my chin
I move them over to my cheeks
To form a cheshire grin
I can bear to look no more
I turn and walk away
I seek the solace of my bed
And pray for light of day
Rockman :-)
(For the Go Ask Alice contest by Debbie Guzzie)
I know of a parrot called Lewis
Whose impressions went right just through us
With his amazing charm
Like a burglar alarm
When he did, he'd always confuse us
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/humour-2.php
Lewis crept into Harper's Ferry
at cool dawn's light in '59
with angry John Brown,
pursed keen and unkempt
to bleed over his shawl,
then died for his wife
Mary, grew old and gray
and left that stained shawl
for grandson Langston Hughes,
to inspire him someday
Langston took Grandma's shawl
and took oppression to his heart
to rise up in other words,
"where people suffered
in beautiful language"*
© Goode Guy 2013-02-03
* Langston Hughes
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Langston_Hughes
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lewis_Sheridan_Leary
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Brown_(abolitionist)
The wind is moaning,
mist forlorn and low.
The hills are softly sketched
in shades of monochrome.
The village blinks awake
from Sabbath slumber.
A bleating lamb is huddled
at the field's edge, uncomprehending,
it wonders at its birthright.
No silver light is falling from the sky
to ease this cloak of grey,
and yet, on such a bleak, dreich
Hebridean dawn,
A sound to cheer,
delight, surprise,
Just as the rain is falling, falling,
I hear a cuckoo - calling, calling.