Best Local Poems
“Support your local poet please”
Said the man with hand out and down on one knee
I’m down on my luck
And for only a buck
My humble verses will put you at ease
Whatever your pleasure
Whatever your mood
A simple rhyme is sure to soothe
Perhaps a Sonnet or Ballad will do
Or maybe a Limerick for a laugh or two
How about a Couplet or a fine Crystalline
Or is a simple Haiku more your scene?
I’ll sing you a Lyric if you have the time
Or spill out an Ode as sweet as wine
I’m a simple man’s poet
Just trying to get by
So hearken your ear and I’ll tell you no lies
I am what I am no less no more
The words of this soul are an open door
For my tongue is richly blessed though some think me poor
I assure you my friend this isn’t a scheme
Just give me a listen you’ll see what I mean
For words can be such a valuable thing
When they make one think… “perchance to dream”
- This write prompted by the above sticker. I received it from some fellow poets while attending an open poetry night at a coffee house in downtown Flint, Michigan several years ago. It now proudly adorns my guitar case. :)
(A true story)
Now i grow older, and beauteous memories turn to weeds,
this blood in my veins turn to water, like a river cold desolute
in the valley bleeds. Yet still on the hill rise i see
"Aunt Mary" Her hair more golden by the day, when my memory returns
and i think of september, and how she succumb like the freshness
of new mowed hay, her passing beautiful and she would have approved.
Alas here in "Back Beck Cemetery" In december the rushing waters
hum a hollow song, the wailing tune of midwinter,
to an unconcerned yet obedient audience.
the chilled musty air
agonize the aging stone...
deep waters rush by.
The tombstones glisten in the pale unloving sunlight,
my spade and i rendezvous there five and half days a week,
just to dig a little for the human race, just to carefully lay some of them here,
some holding on to their earthly hand me down attributes, some rightly earned,
others a relief from the eroding sentiment of life.
Oh! Then there are the infirmed, and the joy of knowing I,
here in this their final resting place, knowing this their very last winter of discontent!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
Vigilante wannabe
Intentions always good
Lost causes are his nemesis
Loyalty his strength
Abysmally annoying
Gauche socially to say the least
Egomaniac~ there’s one in every village
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on March 12, 2020
In the beginning it was just a smell
a smell i could not quite make sense of
a smell that the city was, a smell that the people in it were
in the beginning it was just a smell
a smell that dragged swarms of people of their homes
onto the streets, into the trains, into the strangers’ eyes and their uncharted territories
slowly i realised
all cities are, first, smells to the outsiders
and Tainan was smell sound taste touch to me
there were moments when i felt
this city is just people, so many of them; how beautiful
that i do not know any of them, yet i know them all
sometimes i would think if i emptied the city of all these countless faces
and bodies jostling with each other, what would remain of the city? would it still beat if i put my ears into the hearts of the depeopled Shennong Street
at the dead of night?
i came to Taiwan for the same reason
that a Vietnamese, an Indonesian, or an American comes for,
to chase my dreams, to become more of me,
instead I became it
it wasn’t as easy and quick as they make it out to be;
it took time, for love has its own mysterious ways
i started to embrace Taiwan and its culture
huge numbers of scooters and cars
Everyone follows the traffic rules
wait patiently for the green signals
one in Tainan city never feels pity
city buses and t-bikes are the best friends of a wanderer in the city
people are always helpful,
they adore you as they adore ‘hello kitty’;
small parks almost at every half a kilometer
elderly people like Mr. and Mrs. Wang use them for exercise
sometimes the parks provide sweet beds to the homeless;
i often use the underground passage of the Tainan train station
i look at the people sleeping there
they have made their small worlds in the underpass
they eat, they sleep, they chat with their neighbours
people look quite strange and funny without boundaries around them
their small worlds haven’t yet known the ways of the boundaries, the frontiers; these people are happy in heavy rains and in extreme cold, are they happy?
Tainan has a home for everyone, i guess
when I feel bored, i go to the sea
and bathe in the sounds of its waves lapping against the shores
sunset-platform lets you enjoy the majestic sunset and calming breeze born of the boundless deep
_____to be continue in part-II
The stalls are set up
along the main street
a change from the normal
the local shop price they beat
Many come to have a look
looking for a bargain or two
hoping for something special
anything good would be brand new
Real good quality items
can be found if you look
you feel good with a bargain
success in anyone's book
All sorts are found there
shoes clothes even food
many a splendid thing
things to suit every mood
So support your market
make sure it will stay
for generations to come
it will pay its way
poetgord@2013
Where I live upon a hill,
there is a little local man.
He walks daily into town.
I see him as I drive by.
He loves his food
and I know why.
He arrived in my locale.
Slim, fit and strong.
Something has gone wrong.
I do believe he is unemployed.
Cannot afford a car.
Lucky shop is not so far.
Down the hill, bag in hand.
Empty as the wind.
Returns laden down.
Getting breathless now.
Half way back.
Carrying his big tummy sack.
Silly little local man.
"I tie the shoelaces together on my dead," says my local mortician,
"because if a zombie apocalypse were ever to happen,
it will most certainly be an hilarious situation."
BEING NON LOCAL
in the recovery of silence
I exchanged my life for nothing
I share the noise of moving objects
while I am non local
in the state of being in the whole
maybe the divine conscience
has us in the terrestrial chess game
as an experiment
checkers men showing their face
of emotional tanned skin
the queen untouchable rose
the chess bishop dressing like a dog
the king eliminating chips
believing himself author of destiny
in this experiment
that is out of our reach
because only a magnetic photon
in our non local being
keeps us gravitating
The bakery on the corner
“Closed” spread across the door
The grocery gathering dust
Will open again no more
Gone is the ice cream shop
A child screams and cries
All of this can happen
When a local business dies
The people know what happened
They didn’t want to say
Their products might be better
But shops open inconvenient times a day
They claim that its much easier
To shop the supermarket that's next door
The bad thing is that this leaves
The local business owners poor
How can we stop this issue?
How can we take a stand?
If you wish to see a change
Then your mind you must expand
You need to buy their products
Their stores you must promote
You need to fight for town character
Help keep local businesses afloat
I sit down
After eight hours of ordering
And waiting on the customers
I must relax
From a day’s work waiting the tables
That have been mine since I started
Steak is my specialty
So I tell my customers
And the food here is excellent
It’s not just a line
It really is good here
I worked fifty eight hours
Just in one week
And I get the normal overtime
Just time and a half
Not much considering
All the extra work I do
I help clean the tables
I get the menus all set up together
And I make sure the chairs
Are all in their places
I want my area to be in perfect shape
So when the customers come
They are impressed
By how this place looks
And start their pleasant stay
At my steakhouse
I greet, seat, and treat
All the customers that come into this restaurant
I tell each one
The daily specials
Which, in my opinion
Aren’t worth the price we charge them
But they order them anyway
And with a smile
I tell them thank you
And I turn in the order
I do this for each table
Saying that I am so happy they came in
And that I will take their order now
I serve each customer as if they are family
They appreciate this
And I’ve seen many repeat customers
That want to sit
In my area
They want me to be their waiter
I easily approach them
And lovingly take their order and serve them
With the greatest of joy
And when they leave
It’s the tip that keeps me alive
The work is alright
But the tip is what keeps me working there
I collect all of them for the fifty eight hours
That I have worked there this week
And I deposit them into my bank
Where I must have the money
To pay all my bills
Life requires so much
And I need this job
To stay afloat
I don’t know if I would ever be anything else
This is my life
And I am the waiter
At the local steakhouse
Just a note, I've never been a waiter, this is purely a fictional observation.
Entered into Catie Lindsey's "Free Verse Time Again" contest
3/7/2013
Leaping over nettle bushes,to clear becks and streams
picking fruit from orchid trees, children in our element and dreams.
Building dens in rainy woods,our warmth and shelter clear
raindrops dripping from oak leafs,like a shedding tear.
Swaying cornfields upon the old farmhouse,animals grazing
an overall panoramic view, outback Eston Hills so amazing.
The summertime offers such, an array of beautiful sights
from the hares dancing the fields,to kingfishers in flight.
North sea a mere stone throw,from the pastures that i dwell
calm waters see children building sandcastles,boats tossed violently when it does swell.
Fishermen unload their catch,seagulls lurking for a feed
the high pitch cry babylike,scraps for the need.
Captain Cooks` birthplace, named Great Ayton Village
a very proud community,sporting a collection of spillage.
Of his treasures and necessisitys,held in Stewart Park Museum.
Attracting visitors far and wide,to get a chance to see them.
In wintertime when the cold and snow does test
hanging out the nut nets,for the robin red breast.
Also the animals, so vulnerable alike and rare
building pole houses, for their warmth and care.
Paul beadnall.
Sponsor Francine Roberts
Contest Name a Nature Tale.
7/10/11.
I thank God for every idiot
Who I come to meet;
Because idiots remind me,
It can never be too late
For me to use a different street,
Where I can find myself some much needed peace.
I thank God for every idiot
Who I come to meet;
Because quite honestly,
Without idiots in my life
I'd only discuss philosophies, most of the time.
I thank God for every idiot
Who I come to meet,
Because that's called comedy;
Sorry it wasn't a comedy that's actually funny
- It really all depends on how you look at tragedy...
...Now that's how ya make some pretty decent comedy!
The Comedian Assassinated by Apollinaire!
June conspires
Sun and rain and wind;
Equatorial somnolence
Ways and means
Cluster of conflicts;
Confront life's business
Down winding roads
Cityscapes retreat;
Highrise dwellings clutter
Bus ride to nowhere
New estates emerge;
Road map carbon copy
News flash and highlights
Routine monotony presides;
Celebrate gratitude then
Order in sure fashion
Odd ball roller coaster;
Jolly simplicity
Next year's birthday thoughts:
Celebrate 50 years --
City-state nation
Forged from uncertainty
Precarious transit pains;
Here we are now
Ageing population
New age crisis;
Opportune reminders
The years have been kind
To one and all here;
Confront crises head-on
No need for complaints
There is only one way;
Move forward always
Attitude counts
Work on your gripes;
Excellence takes effort
All in due time
Evidence speaks sharp;
Discern lessons well
Talk feels empty
Do it with aplomb;
Results surmount obstacles
We start, we end --
Let gratitude mindset
Frame sure attitude
Despite constraints
We get along;
Common courtesy works
There is no other place
Beyond our fringes;
Here ample lots farm
A cityscape where
We co-mingle, interact;
Live a common agenda
Home is where
Heart lives sure spark;
Touch weaves new songs
Leon Enriquez
04 June 2014
Singapore
On this journey
I will not come with you.
I will stay here,
sitting on eagle’s stone of Epos.
Wingless but illuminated.
Surveying the tangerine trees of Kampos
and the red stone houses.
The gained ground of my ancestors
that become rosy-hued in the horizon
from Tsesme and beyond.
Chewing the mastic from Olympus,
that gathered by your hands.
Getting drunk
with Ariousios wine,
from grapes that stepped by your legs.
I shall stay here.
To give you back your homeland
that for centuries now
you walk on as foreigners.
Had a blood sample taken by our local vampire
Saw traces of blood on her teeth when she smiled
She drew an extra flask
For an afternoon snack
She sure looked scary in her vampire attire
© Jack Ellison 2015