Best Millionth Poems
The sun swiftly sits on the creased sea line, stirring crooning clouds of romance.
I sit in awe ~ mesmerized, for the millionth time,
watching the sky sing your name, filling the salty air with high-pitched notes of nostalgia.
For between the island of longing and mountains with willows of infatuation,
amidst the many gusts and gales of seasonal shifts,
between your ink and my canvas, I feel the warmth of your love-struck twilight,
as if we were wishing upon the same evening star, flickering opalescent flames of desire.
While fireflies flutter like aurora beams,
twirling like topaz that mirrors diamond dreams, above our skin,
screaming for a silent rendezvous,
where no wind or dust can blur or veil the musical memories of our unspoken poetry.
In this moment, I realize I am not alone. The seagull that visits the same spot every day rests still,
surrounded by ripples of honeyed turquoise. Perhaps she is lost in thought, just as I am,
as the way we both are in sync with nature reminds me of the ephemeral tunes of time~
how it unfolds Polaroids of promises, scattered like aching footprints in the moon-touched sand.
Maybe the dance of the seraphic breeze and flurry of hues would redefine unseen tomorrows,
as weightless crimson carries scarlet sonnets, sealed in spiced eloquence…
marigold secrets
etched within cinnamon sun~
halcyon heartbeats …
Ruby winds were breezing about,
Graceful ducks were crossing my path
Slowly, slowly in a purposeful walk
Curious of a cute fawn scurrying along;
There I paused, watching robins dance
Twittering and twitting songs of joy
In harmony with people ambling by.
Up there upon the blue garb of eventide
Sun was sketching a spectrum on arc
As evening was donning sienna brown;
In yellow rose-blooms some stilled awed
Some stayed glued to pink-lotus pond
Gazing beauty of gracile white swans.
When orange-glow invoked amber vibes
I lingered at your gazebo a millionth time
Charmed by echoes of sensuous revelry
In whispers of hints from coral peonies
Lilting in your garden of flaming red lilies
Pulsing your heart’s passionate greetings
As fervor of the night chased our dreams.
Whispering to me, “meet me tomorrow”
You divulged to stars how sweet love was
Crooning its praises quite a long time ago--
Before we met for tea on your porch,
Strolls in the park, rise of purple dawns,
Before you waltzed desires of romance,
Before you owned the beats of my heart.
June 14, 2020
Placed 2nd: N/A Rerun-9- by John Hamilton
I Am An Alien
I am an alien to this world
Born of atoms created billions of years ago
Atoms which drifted through time
Across millions of light years of space
Not connecting until they came upon a blue green planet
Random events brought them together
Giving them the breath of life
The freedom to exist together yet on their own
Combining into chains and molecules
Until two one celled inhabitants of human bodies combined
That random event mixed just perfectly
And that spark of life once again ignited
I was born not long after
A member of the human species
Still an alien whose life began in the darkness of space
In the millionth of a second when nothing became everything
And I was created.
My name's Rocky Balboa,
Some say I'm old as soil;
An' if you call me punchy,
My blood begins to boil!
Mickey's gone to heaven,
Apollo and Adrian too;
Now I'm stuck with Paulie,
A bum without a clue!
I'll wake up in da' morning,
Right at da' crack of dawn;
Shuffle for a block or two,
An' pass out on da' lawn!
"Yo Paulie!"..."Where are you?!"
It's time to start our day;
Don't forget da' liniment,
I only use Ben-Gay!
Let me box my shadow,
For 'dis I have a knack;
"Whoa!!"...I must be crazy,
My shadow punched me back!!
"Drop 'dat Seagram's, Paulie!"
Come help me to da' ring;
Did you pack my 'focals?
'Cause I can't see a thing!
I float like a fire truck,
Sting like a flea;
My feet are tired an' swollen,
Sit ups make me pee!
Ev'ry time I skip rope,
My feet get tangled up;
Who says I need a mouthpiece?
My teeth are in 'dat cup!
Da' punchin' bag's too lumpy,
Push ups makes me sick;
I think I'm gettin' dizzy,
"Somebody help me, quick!!"
I had my millionth fight,
It didn't go too well;
I couldn't leave my corner,
'Cause I never heard da' bell!
Put 'dis one in da' books,
I'm feelin' like a fool;
Have you ever seen a boxer,
Get knocked out on his stool?!
It's time to go home, Paulie!"
We'll never quit 'dis scene;
Get ready for da' sequel,
I'll see you in 'Thirteen!'
Ten trillion galaxies up there, down there, around here
Each with one hundred billion stars, give or take
Can you wrap your head around an octillion?
All I need is one civilization that gets it right
Just one in an octillion, plus a spaceship, that's it
Not for me, the expansive vistas afforded those who sit
Atop a nation-sized pile of human wreckage
Three hundred million strong and breeding
Sipping Maggies and smoking Castros
Poisons to poison the perception of poisoning
The dog is so very done with the pony
My millionth micro-apotheosis
will not make me any more divine
than I already am, just more enshrined
The wooden boy will always be wooden
No, your institutionalized parasitism is for someone
Who wouldn’t slowly suffocate
On the ashes of that which cannot nourish
My roots require a different soil
So many starving at the Kool Aid and Twinkie buffet
The ten thousand ways I’ve died to be reborn
Ten-thousand and one mini-reincarnations
Not one courtesy of this benighted domain
Praise be to all that is not this invert realm
The sublime countercurrent opposing all that is worldly
Humility is unshrining of the self-statue
Shovel away the foul cement before it hardens
No I absolutely cannot play the game
Of hubris, your oh so tasty damnation
if I stand still the poisons will stop draining
And then what of my heart?
If you think all this blabbering is pointless
You shoulda heard what I was saying
Seven or eight addictions ago
Because that’s another fetid pile of wreckage
It’s progress, not perfection
You can just beam me up anyway
6/11/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
As the sun sets
and the twilight comes out,
as the birds and squrriels are no where in sight.
As the whores and pimps sit on street corners,
waiting for street lights to turn from green to red.
As cadillacs stop and roll their windows down.
I can her the faint cry deep in the darkness,
of dirty gutters and dark, dead end alleyways,
I hear the faint tears fall and hit concrete pavement.
I feel the faint cries of whores,
I hear the sound of backhand hitting face
and brused tissue and broken noses are everywhere.
And the somber tears fall onto pillow cases,
and white motel bedsheets run red with blood
and cheap Italian wine.
And you can her the poet over the radio,
reading his own work for the one millionth time
and you can hear his soul slowly wanting to die.
He drowns himself in smoke and alcohol
the whore takes her pay, or spends a night in a jail cell,
the pimp nowhere to be found,
with a shiny blade stuck deep in his gut.
And the somber tears fall gently on the concrete pavement,
the floors of a jail cell,
tears on the pillow case and tears on a lonesome stage.
Tears never present, but are seen by many,
pain aches and pain takes away,
and I pour one more drink for the whore.
She takes me away,
and I caught her salty, somber tear,
and she crawled into my warm embrace.
I was the one who stuck the blade in the gut of that pimp,
who broke her nose and made her bleed,
with a cowardess and souless backhand.
I walk into the moonlight,
hearing the somber tears all around me,
crash violently to the concrete pavement.
The Earth rumbles and erupts with these tears,
that are shead for fellow Men, and Women and Children,
but we all look at ourselves and smile.
Happy we don't pay rent,
happy we don't have cancer,
happy we aren't six feet under;
But we still all cry,
Why?
Somber tears all fall in one big wave
crashing violently on the concrete pavement.
Now the red light turns green,
and the traffic moves along,
the whore is still at her corner,
the pimp still with the blade in his gut.
How odd I find these days!
Days of hidden agendas.
Days of crippling Lives.
Tho most would say,
' It's just how it is.'
To live in a stinking sty?
Full of hate!
Full of lies!
Watching one feed on anothers flesh.
Purposeful anger!
Betrayed by pain.
Always, one can choose childhood,
for blame.
It's easy to cast aside the shame.
When you can inject numbness,
in your veins.
2006, what a joke!
Children are born without hope!
Parents live for what greed demands.
Damn the truth!
Damn the man!
Scrambling souls with blackened eyes.
Deep in vain.
Weighted in denial.
It's fate, the millionth mile.
"Oh how I want, oh how I plea."
To that Big Guy in the clouds,
Yes, Someone to watch over me
Should I ever enlightened be
still to spirits and saints pray
But need someone to watch over me
Images of gods as mother or daddy
or pictures of anglicized Jesus
Oh how I want, oh how I plea
Hope my god holds me so easily
As into heaven I want to go
Someone, Oh yes to watch over me
Wondering at all the glory I see
Is this really all there is
Oh how I plea, and how I plea
After the millionth or so glory
Sadly wondering at this story,
Oh my god how must I plea
For someone to watch over me!
I wake to the touch of a morning sun,
Softly teasing my eyes apart.
I feel your arms tighten around
Sealing yet another
Non existent space.
I turn around to face you
Feeling blessed for a millionth time.
I stare at your sleeping self
Murmuring a silent prayer of thanks…
At a dark dark time you were sent to me
To shed some light on my weakening being.
I held on tight to you secure hands
As u pulled me out of a painful mess…
I found the smile I thought I had lost
I found love so serene and pure
I found your eyes so full of care
As it healed so well my bruised soul..
I kiss your brow slow and soft
Anxious not to wake you up…
Tears form as to spell my love
I see your eyes open up
Just as a drop runs down my cheeks
I feel your hands brushing it off…
That I know is the art of love
I was gifted with
And eternally crowned…
The interrogation threatens to shudder like an earthquake
A long index of accusations spread out among the atmosphere like a blazing forest fire
Satisfaction, the officer and venomous umbrage, the criminal
Self-appreciation, the quiescent defense attorney with no right to be there
Misery, the boisterous dauntless prosecutor
The months of the annual calendar, the jury
Pain, the almighty judge
It’s a court case already divested from the defendant
Why should it not
Bother, why bother
Its past the millionth time in 216 divided by the jury
Satisfaction has seen countless rewards of capturing umbrage
Satisfaction has felt the boundless benevolence of glory
And foaming at the mouth, glowering with muffled respected fury
Sits umbrage, staring out blurred vision
Victimized in his own apperception
What’s the cost, the damage total; what has befell, befell reality
The anathema of fate or rather the favored affliction of fortune’s fool
Within a realm of possibility it may perceive to be both
A pebble laced with a thread thrown into grass only miles away
To be reeled right back in like a helpless fish on a line
The audacity, the audacity; oh just hush
Silence is golden and this silence is benevolent
Joy was once prevalent in the company of such disgrace umbrage reigned
Together they were serenity, a mixed graceful period of harmony
Such a song sung by dual owls in the presence of the lightened darkness of night
(sigh) …I can’t do this anymore
Make a world, create a story peacefully
Creating a plot circulating, tip-toeing around the issues placing bait in front of my eyes for me to take
What is wrong with me, my life
One word, a sharp enough blade to stab in the ankle to slaughter Achilles
In this case, me
The poet’s banishment, scourge creating a series of nine lashes
Still runs deep, refuses cessation
Proceeds to feed on every ounce of merriment to permeate through the cracks
Melancholy has produced to invade back in
What’s the cause this time for it to attack
A few simple words, reflection, swift defiance
the bruises upon the right appendage whispering, begging for more scars
FOR WHAT? ! ? ! ? ! ? !
Forget it….it’s nothing
Satisfaction has pardoned me, set me free
Umbrage, my twin has taken over me
To another bridge, we sit and sulk over a failed attempt at flight
Cause we willingly defy the right to say goodnight
Freda's an obnoxious old woman
She‘d say loudly ‘I want it right now’
Her long suffering husband Timothy
covertly called her a bossy old cow!
Each weekend they’d both go shopping
Freda would always jump the queue,
declaring in her brash whiny voice
that she’s bursting to go to the loo!
Poor Timothy would stand there
his face turning a shade of bright red,
she’d say ‘just get on with the packing’
and give him a cuff round his head!
Last week she pushed in front of me
and then gave me such a nasty glare,
Timothy stood looking embarrassed
perhaps wishing that he wasn’t there
Still, I ended up having the last laugh
when the manager came over to me
Saying you’re our millionth customer
so everything is your trolley’s for free!
Freda jumped up and down like a banshee
exclaiming loudly that this just wasn’t fair -
that she’d ONLY swapped places with me
meaning she should’ve really been there
Timothy seethed and said shut the duck up
(Freda looked like she’s about to explode) ...
He said ‘maybe this will teach you a lesson’
and he turned on his heels with their load!
This couple no longer go shopping
(last I heard Tim’s seeking a divorce)
He’s moved back in with his mother
and spends weekends on the golf course!
Fiction Poem – just having a giggle
04/12/20
"momma he told me he loved me," the little 9 year old girl cried. "he told me he loved me but I said no."
"why did you say no?" the mother questioned. "isn't love good?"
"momma he doesn't love me. how could he love me? I am me, he is he. I cannot be loved, I cannot be cherished. I am nothing more than a tangled mop of corn rows and holey dresses."
"darling," the mother said softly, "if he loves you, he will love you for you. he will brush out your knots and he will patch up your dresses. you both may not be perfect alone, but together you will make an unstoppable duo. he will love you for the beautiful 9 year old you are."
the mother then wiped the daughter's tears. the daughter hugged her momma and promised she would never change for anything.
but puberty hit, and sooner or later the little girl was a teenager. she obsessed over minuscule details, constantly torn between her values and her popularity. she went from door to door looking for love, but to no avail.
one day, after a rough day of school bells and textbooks, the daughter came home, flushed in tears.
her momma became worried and sat her down on the flower adorned sofa.
"momma, does he love me? he tells me one thing, but his actions say another. he tells me I'm important, but I don't think i am. I am lost in a labyrinth with no map. tell me momma, does he love me?"
the mother looked at her daughter and appeared hurt.
"darling," the mother said with a slight frown, "you should know if he loves you. he should shower you with love and adorn you with his heart. If he does not do these things, he is not worthy of your love. he may or may not love you, but he will not be loved by you. for you, my dear, are as ornate as a sapphire. you are a diamond among a million rocks. do not let your shine wear out. polish yourself. do not blend in with the rocks, for you my darling, were born to stand out. if a boy takes this shine away from you, he has captured you. you have given him everything. instead, look for the boy who will help you polish. look for the one who would pick you out among a million rocks. look for the one who picks the one in a millionth girl, because that is who you are. a one in a million girl deserves a one in a million boy."
Signature
Append the seal on the opening glee
Of performance agog with clapping drums,
The cylindrical bell calling to spirituous mundi
Screaming flew about in the air;
Perched on ears
And pecked on fertile hearts,
Consider not the frightened feet
Aching at commencement,
Wind to experiment, explore and applied
The agility in acrobatic anger
Of stretching sweating flesh,
Rhythmical muscles drawn vein taut
To the last drop of dew,
Hoofs prancing, prancing and prancing!
Ejaculating on the polished wood
With a millionth impregnated marbles spread tentacles,
Atomic spermatozoa bombast the uterus
Colonized the ovary and eke out
Inside, the embryonic yokes;
Suspended by clear albumen,
Fetal poles march strength with fallopian tubes,
Cavity swallowed them into humid sac
Plush pollen grains into zygotes
Springing anew buds in May,
Conceive earthlings with several asking branches
A lot of libraries;
A particular slanted eyeball
Began rumbling belch, lightening guffaw and thundering hiccup,
Tugging at umbilical chords,
Breathe knocking placenta on the head
And efflux out of the duress,
Spectra Butterflies flagging multi-coloured limbs
Faculty spiraling, twirling and tossing on elastic trunk,
Laser flashing touches swam in oceanic atmosphere,
Eager ritual leap of the gods,
Dagger usher out from scabbard
Plunge into dimple ample
Tip oozes indigo gore,
Sources of springing magenta
Began the back and forth stabbing,
Scribbling on the whitish flesh
Ink on tones of barks, bereft,
Spat spittle connived, reed shook together
Vein drawn to bursting,
Adaptation to suit thumb and forefinger
Pour the concoction, pour on the root.
"What Makes Me a Woman?"
Sitting in my bed,
One idle afternoon.
Looking in the mirror.
I asked myself,
For a millionth time,
What makes me a woman?
Is it the role of a daughter?
Mother, wife and a sister?
A heart that is selfless,
Kindness unconditional,
Generous and giving soul.
Beauty that embarrasses the moon,
Warmth that melts snow,
Or passion brighter than the fire.
Or to have no
Desire of my own
And
No hopes that are mine.
Is it the unlived moments,
Unseen dreams
Giving up my life,
My goals for the greater good,
And
Living the life
Chosen for me by the loved ones or
Beloved.
Is it the same epic, eternal question Eve asked when she looked at Adam?
I thought.
My heart,
As stubborn and childish as it could be,
Smiled and whispered to me, “all that makes you human."
Knowing that
You belong to yourself first,
That's what makes you a woman.
Saadia Syed
SLAPPY THE APPLE TREE OF OZ - WIZ
Dorothy and I go way back, don’t you know
and by the way I’m familiar with the bale of hay,
thundering tin can and the trembling kitty show.
At first they were hesitant to let me stay.
I had to pull my roots up from the ground,
put a cafeteria net in place to hold its yield,
then follow the yellow brick crowd ‘round and ‘round
and avoid a screaming witch out in the field.
She threatened to tear me limb from limb.
I stuck out my red tongue, told her to just try.
The knees of tin clattered together - poor him,
and dear Dorothy and her little dog let out a sigh.
I fell asleep standing in the poppy garden of snow.
My apples were nearly poisoned but I shielded them
before my eyes closed. Thankful for Glinda’s glow —
awakening even the brave one with his absent brain stem.
The growling yawn of the cowardly furball freaked me out.
I shook the diamondback crystals from my leaves and trunk.
Our Kansas girl led the way to Oz with a tree-mendous shout.
For the millionth time we grab arms and sing - this time in funk.
We reach the wonderfully luscious land of oz - green as my hair.
Begging audience of the wizard, he finally sees us.
I’m patient as he listens to the beggarly needs — a lion’s share.
I won’t bring myself down to their level - make a great fuss.
The wizard listens to this wizened curmudgeon tree.
I ask him for unending sweet apples without any worms.
And as he has done with the rusty-eyed gang, he makes a decree,
for he must give a long winded speech and make us squirm.
The only drawback is I must stand guard in this breezy courtyard —
a lookout for writings on the skywall that might jeopardize our lives.
Still, I am the crowned jewel, so humble, in this emerald vanguard.
We sang and danced our way down the yellow brick and survived.
10/29/2018
Off To See The Wizard Poetry Contest
Charles Messina - Sponsor
In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy gets slapped by an apple tree. This is where I came up with his name :)