Best Massaged Poems
How far do the ripples spread, when eventually we die
Probably stay in the locality, level off, no major outcry
But let’s say we’re famous, suffering unexplained death
The ripples keep expanding, growing further in breadth
See the grotesque nature of spin, is to overplay a scene
Garnishing public outrage, lurid pictures fill our screens
Playing to an audience, ratings become the holy grail
Stories without embellishments, grow tiresomely stale
These ripples are an illusion, imagination going berserk
Carried along by a corrupt deception, truth been shirked
Evidence the one requirement, for establishing all facts
I extrapolate backwards, what the hell there’s no splash
Lines converge into partial truths, confused to a degree
Must be taken with a pinch of salt, querying what I see
Even this soup we enjoy, is manipulated and massaged
Most of the poems are quite good, others form a mirage
Taken out of context a rectangle, can become a square
Brought into focus, desolate pictures, not quite so bare
What’s basically a clean stab, or slash across the wrist
When poets stick in the knife, some give it a good twist
Using poetry for a hidden agenda, political or otherwise
Tantamount to mind-numbing crap, seen in the tabloids
If your going to post propaganda, to further some game
Write it on toilet paper, wipe off, that’s all you’ve gained
By
David Kavanagh
What kind of foolish heart would let you slip from grasp?
In a land of ten-thousand fools, I would be the king of them
I will now forever walk a lonely path that I have laid myself;
sorrow, torment, regret will be my ever-present burden.
In a land of ten-thousand fools, I would be the king of them
I strayed, lapsed, and failed to stay my earthy urges.
Sorrow, torment, regret will be my ever-present burden.
If it were possible to turn back the clock, I would in instant.
I strayed, lapsed, and failed to stay my earthy urges
Senseless self-gratification, a massaged ego, failure.
If it were possible to turn back the clock, I would in instant.
Could I sing "Non, je ne regrette rien." No, it would be a lie.
Senseless self-gratification, a massaged ego, failure.
Empty glasses in empty bars, this empty foolish heart
Could I sing "Non, je ne regrette rien." No, it would be a lie.
I said my sorries, yet you knew weakness would lead me to repeat.
I saw you gliding by across a busy street today and realized
I will now forever walk a lonely path that I have laid myself
Your beauty, within you and without, what have I done?
What kind of foolish heart would let you slip from grasp?
MY FOOLISH HEART Cash Prize Poetry Contest; placed 5th
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Date wrote: 3rd April 2022
This is a decade that many wonderful things happened;
I was born, the reign of hard rock began,
Michael Jackson began to moonwalk, Cars became smoother
on the road, Cold War reigned, and also a time that soul music
massaged our souls and emotions.
This is a decade that never dies. People who were born
and lived in the 80s still live, the music still exists in hard-drives,
teenagers have immortalized the fashion sense, and
my yellowing birth certificate still lives on, with one piece.
What temprate joy began with
Such afterglow took away
Once forensic dissertation
dismantling the evidence sends
When massaged vanity and
guily platitudes are subsidised
overcome by inertial reality
As fraud is replaced and integrity
lost
Pondering the cost of what was
gained was lost
And comes with no return policy
But speaking personally from the
here what right have i to complain
If yes that is my signature my
name undersigned in the contract
Was i not duty bound to have read
the small print before putting
pen to paper and held account responsible for my own actions
Because wanted it so much
a willing accomplice was i to be
turn a blind eye and overlook the lie
Until it was patently pointed out to
me that a hollow victory however
fleeting only lasts a while
But a stain is permanent and
remains on one's record for life
Sold for merely 30 pieces of
control
Which then became priceless
and unattainable to buy back
or own
Until it rears it's ugly head being
abused in some random advertising
advert campaign
The final insult nail in the coffin
thinking
What have i done
What did i do
Why couldn't i just have waited
Why was i not blessed with patience
Bikini clad girl
Hair so blond
Brushed and stroked
By her Highland fond
Bikini clad girl
Skin so tanned
Scented oils
Massaged and manned
Bikini clad girl
In wanting touch
From her Highlander
She adores so much
Bikini clad girl
In loving pose
Her Eagle grows
For her garden Rose
Bikini clad girl
Join of their frames
Pouring of passion
Inside her rained
Bikini clad girl
Blushed in sync
Her Rose in bloom
The prettiest of pink
Bikini clad girl
So content in love
To the blue sky she looks
Her soaring Eagle above
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love2.php
Like clay in my hand, I held a frown...
Massaged it slowly till the edges were round...
The warmth of my fingers softened the feel...
Then I kissed it slowly as the smile became real...
The closer I held it ,the more it whispered today...
Words of love it spoke , as the frown whithered away...
(Esther 5: 2)
The King Held Out To Esther
The Golden Scepter
That Was In His Hand
She Was His Queen
The Woman Who Fulfilled His Dreams
One of The Most Beautiful In All His Lands
But It Was Persian Law For All
That Those The King Did Not Call
Would Be Struck Down Where They Stand!
Yet Brave & Beautiful Queen Esther
Whose Godly Faith Never Left Her
To Save Her People, Entered As Planned
Because There Was A Plot
Devised In Anger So Hot ...
By That Prideful, Wicked Prince Haman
To Kill All Esther's People
Haman Schemed So Evil
But The King Didn't Know Why It Began
... Or That Esther Was A Jew
In The Line of Hebrews
Who Worship The One GOD So Grand
But There Was No Hesitation
In Ahasuerus' Heart Designation
Towards This Woman Who Stood Royal & Serene
She Held Ahasuerus' Affection
and Did Not Suffer Rejection
As She Humbly Walked In, As His Queen
I Imagine All Got Quiet
Waiting For Swords To Riot
And See Esther's Head Roll Across The Floor
But At The Sight of Her Dignity
The Scepter Pointed Implicitly
To Grant Esther Whatever She Implored
And Oh, The Interplay
of Emotions That Day
Between This Woman & Her Loving Man
When The King Held Out To Esther
His Golden Scepter
... That Was In The Power of His Hand
* * * * * * * * * * * *
(Part 2)
Oh, And That Wicked Haman Was Hanged
And His Family Shared The Blame
But Esther's People Were Saved From Judah To Benjamin, To Dan
( Walk-On Hadassah - Walk-On ! )
Written & Copyrighted ©: 9/15/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
I have always loved the story of Queen Esther ... This is a love story that has it all - - a lovely-hearted, modest girl, (replacing a vain and arrogant queen) ... then getting royally pampered, massaged in expensive, perfumed oils, lots of clothes and jewels, winning a beauty pageant, finding true love, conflict and suspense and lastly the heroine saves the day (and oh, did I mention that she was an orphan?) ... 'Com' on Movie-Makers - we could enjoy a lot more of this ... MoonBee
enjoy the reed
now displayed as a satisfactory deed.
* * * * * *
A Senior Moment - written months ago commemorating
the graduation from a vaunted charter school
in Bend, Oregon of thy lovely youngest,
this papa could not attend -
geographical distance constituting the primary determinant.
* * * * * *
Valedictorian treads across makeshift platform
i.e. most likely auditorium stage marked
by hushed audience inhaling, notating,
and regaling gleeful lightness of buoyant feat
(but me Yeats heavy of heart) feted for 2017 Redmond
Enrichment Academy graduates, who attained,
a milestone vis a vis earning their
high school diploma, and ready to launch
bountiful daunting challenges, yet sure
footed each young gal and/or guy
will exude joy and sorrow upon grasping their
high school diploma aware a sound education
sent each on their own future path
while pomp and circumstances issues forth
by adroit musically talented underclass
* * * * * *
man, which emotional celebrated achievement
evoked by keynote student speaker,
but also underscored via that well worn mortar
board, linkedin, kickstarter, Joyus
tune (composed by Sir Edward Elgar –
subtitled March Number 1) acknowledging
cheers, eliciting grownups immense Kleenex
moistening overpowering quintessentially
simmering ululating wrenching yowling
as tassels flipped (maybe in conjunction with
a non twittering uber bird) to the left side
of the caparisoned newly anointed future
Dharma Bums, professionals and/or trades
persons momentarily stung with sadness
to depart favorite classmates and teachers
who voluntarily cosseted, ferried, and
* * * * * *
capitalone did flickr imperceptibly, kneaded
and leavened LivingSocial, and massaged MineCraft
outlook plenti full confidence, faith, and inherent
lettered oblations serve as snap chatting,
My nails grow longer in the heat,
I like to keep them short, hands and feet,
pedicure and manicure by the girls in Phuket,
they give you more, full service and yet . . . .
I don't need my shoulders or head massaged,
there's a slap on the back as their fingers emerged,
nothing too intimate otherwise I might get ********,
the personal service should be my selection.
Now there's a mask on my face, an extra they say,
don't worry, it's free, you won't have to pay,
I'm not too keen on cucumber, peer over the edge,
shouldn't be so fussy, after all it's a privilege.
I walk out of the shop, spent my last Thai coin,
can't help but notice - there's a swelling in my groin.
Tiny legs working.
Wonderful massage technique.
Pleasure undescribed.
From my balcony there is much to behold,
From cruise ships,visitors pouring into Jamaica,
young, middle aged and the old,
Different shapes,colour and style of dressing,
To Ocho Rios the pier is truly a blessing,
Smooth white sand and crystal clear blue sea,
Jamaican girls in straw hats and bath-suits,
entertaining under tents and coconut trees,
Tourist swimming,dancing,being massaged,
or just tanning,enjoying the sun and tropical breeze,
Taking tours on glass bottom boats or just
riding the sea on jet skis,
Surrounded by Jamaica Grand,Rooms,Sand Castle,
Turtle Towers and Fisherman Point,
This I believe is truly, one of Jamaicas favourite tourist joint......
From my balcony,Room 56,Fishermans Point.....
Ever have one of those days
where you just have to get away
from the daily work grind...
where you can just kick back,
relax a little,
and finally unwind,
tomorrow is that day for me
because I took a personal day,
where I'm going to sleep in till noon,
wake up and shower and dress
and watch a little television
if I'm in the mood,
then eat a leisurely lunch
with a lot of crunch,
and savor every bite,
afterwards have a nice dessert,
like some sherbet,
that'll really hit the spot,
then drive to my appt. in town
and get massaged by a masseuse,
go get a manicure and a pedicure,
shop for a new dress,
and go get my hair done by my hair stylist,
later at home check my e-mail
and see whats on the soup,
laugh at some of the funny poems
because they can be so humorous,
read some of the serious ones,
and feel the corners of my mouth suddenly droop,
then after that I'll maybe take a walk
and stroll around the park,
but by then it'll probably be getting late
and the dusk will be turning to dark,
so I'll go home to my family,
and I'll say good night
and go retire for the night,
where I'll go into my sanctuary,
change into my pajamas,
watch some t.v.
and turn off the light,
but I know most if this is just a fantasy,
but it really doesn't matter
since I'm not really into all that glamour
why I'm just your average Josephine,
like a lot of folks just trying to stay afloat
by making ends meet,
Because when I look around
there's 1001 chores to be done,
especially the housework,
where I'll be washing dishes,
feeding the cats, dogs and fishes,
cleaning windowsills,
dusting and vacuuming,
mopping floors,
wiping down doors,
doing the laundry,
and shredding some old bills,
But hey, I'd rather get these mundane
chores out of the way on a Friday,
so then on the weekend
I can do what I want
and go out and have a fun day!
All aboard the Fantasy M/S of Carnival
for half a week’s vacation time of fun and falderal.
Hear greetings from your captain, his director and the crew.
Ready, set, get going. The Bahamas wait for you.
Bon Voyage! There’s Reggae music playing on the Lido.
Dinner is at 6 or 8. Hold off on that tuxedo!
You could eat a pizza by the Windows On the Sea
or go beneath to dine on shrimp and meet the maitre d’.
Gamble or see comedy; reflect upon the ocean.
Late to bed; relax your head; sense the soothing motion.
Rise and shine in Freeport where the ship will dock all day.
You can disembark to take a tour, or you can stay.
On board the ship, take a dip; lounge or dance Calypso.
Get yourself massaged; work out, shop or play some bingo.
All day long, you can find folks doing funny things
like contests for the men with hairy chests or knobby knees.
Day two when you waken, you will be in Nassau.
There’s stuff for everyone, from your kiddies to your grandma!
Little ones may stay behind. Folks will entertain them,
or the kids can tag along with the adults. No problem!
If you like adventure, visit lovely Blue Lagoon.
For snorkeling with sting rays, the boat leaves right at noon.
You can pet some dolphins, but extra you should pay
if you want to swim with them. That’s one special day.
In town you might be nabbed by a plaza beautician.
Getting braids is all the rage, so people get their hair done.
Get back to the gangway before the ship sets sail.
If you‘re still not having fun, you must be a door nail!
“Day at Sea” arrives as your trip is winding down,
And the biggest night is coming; women wear a gown!
That final evening dining perhaps with a new friend,
you’ll wish instead of ending, it were starting all again.
Gals and guys with braided scalps; everyone looks nice.
Ah, that midnight feast with pretty sculptures carved in ice.
The ultimate for leisure if you’re after more than snoozing’.
In the laid-back natives lingo: “Mon, you best be cruising!”
NOTE: (this describes a vacation I took about 12 years ago, my first
and probably last cruise ever, unless I come into money. haha.
I'd seen Europe in my youth but as vacations go,this truly was
the best one.)
For Carol Brown's Contest: "It's Time for a Vacation"
A dry peninsula without internal flowing waters
anointed with the ointment of incredible prosperity
massaged by the fat hands of uncommon wealth
and covered by tight-fitting over-alls,
made out of an expanding economic might.
One of its regions has been so globally popularized,
ousted the bench-marks of global prides time and time again
from its fleet of speeders dedicated to its agents of the law
to the breath-taking amusement park which is second to none.
Is it the driver-less and longest fully automated metro network?
Or the raised shoulders of the princess tower and the marina?
These are the starting point of a majestic economic run.
Does excellently well in showcasing its power and might,
commanding the hearts of men to its irresistible attraction.
The Burj Khalifa and manmade Islands;
J W Marriott Marquis and the world’s most inclined building,
are among others to cherish and to admire.
On the way coming among many others
are the masdar city and prestigious museums
with a tax free income, a cheap and accessible fuel
it’s not surprising internationals and expatriates
outnumber the actual citizens eleven to one.
Wealth from underground is its glory,
bordering the large waters is its fortune,
the display of its ability is its honour,
diversifying the sources of its coins is its wisdom.
Opening up to the world to lessen a conservative view
is its ultimate gain.
That momentous longing that purposed many lowly nights dissipated
Just as I found myself in your presence once again
You tease me, flirt with me, confuse the hell out of me,
You touch me in strange ways as I strenuously gaze
Once you massaged my hands playfully,
But I saw through your frivolous actions a lust unacquainted with jest
I slowly began to realize, that when I confessed my attraction to you through that letter,
That I was serving you my heart on a rusty platter
Hoping for an arrow to shoot us down to seriousness
But we are close friends, not on the brink of romance
We are silly and wacked out of all reason
Too much alike, too little acquainted in what I dream of
You are full of games and I am full of fire
Sometimes we are just on the brink of drifting our separate ways
You treat me like I am in high demand,
That you only have the time right now to be with me,
And must get all of me that you can
To hold me close and take what you need before the next comes to engorge
I am your friend, your close friend,
This tension makes me furious and sore
Why can’t we just be us without the demand for more?
---Shoutout to my best friend Becca Larkin for helping me with a title. I always struggle with that!!!! RAWR---