Best Mostly Poems
Isn’t it ironic?
That the plague called the bubonic
Killed the man but not the rat
And did not even kill the cat
That caught and killed the guilty rat
Isn’t it ironic?
That in this age of the electronic
Ebola is running unabated
It’s deathly thirst left quite unslated
Just like the plague as earlier stated
Isn’t it ironic?
That in this age of progress so terrific
A plague is not spread by a rat
Nor by bat and not by cat
But by technology - imagine that!
Ode to the Senior Golfer
Pitch and putt I never worried about
‘cause all my drives were long and stout
Now off the tee it doesn’t fly so far
And all I can do is hope for par
On my card 3’s are 4’s and 4’s became 5
Oh how I long for a 300 yard drive
It’s only a game, some say unkind
But it grabs at your heart and messes your mind
It’s only a game still others proclaim
Front nine was fun, the back nine shame
So before I tee, I ask my Lord
Just once put my name atop the leader board
Now it’s early to bed so I can dream
Of birdies and eagles and a jacket that’s green
Written by my caddy
Sir Duffy Mulligan
FOUR!
?
There was the sudden stench of silence that fell upon the street.
The congregate of people looking on in disbelief.
Trying to gain a view in a manner yet discrete,
observing the excavation of his apartment in feigned grief.
The noises that they heard in the nights, but collectively ignored.
The rank smells of miasma that crept from underneath the door.
Now what was merely paranoia has turned to fearsome fact.
As the investigation continually reveals his gruesome past.
The refrigerator units that stored condiments and human crania.
The skeletal relics unearthed, his gallery of paraphilia
The large blue barrels in which several bodies had been dissolved.
So many questions here still linger and none may be resolved,
and he may never be absolved for the hunger that he fed.
And they will never face another night without him in their heads
there is no mother nature ~ mere reality with her rolling pin
spreading an infinite universe ~ with no instructions on a tin
bring humanity into the mix ~ a strange ingredient comes in
the spit of droll intelligence ~ from our salivating menippean
# # #
Still from May Day, to the Summer solstice in June
a Helios vegan picks his nose daily, of the greenest legumes
By
David Kavanagh
The world's made up of mostly good people
Except for the lunatic fringe
Too bad we can't just get rid of these jokers
These yahoos have come unhinged!
Send 'em away to some distance galaxy
Far, far away from us guys
Let 'em infect some other civilization
We've had it right up to our eyes!
It's a dream I know, they'll still be around
When we finally close up shop
But the last to go will be us poets for sure
We'll utter the very last thought!
The world's made up of mostly good people
Except for the lunatic fringe
My question is why the hell must it be this way
Why are these guys so unhinged?
© Jack Ellison 2013
(Mary Custis was the wife of Robert E. Lee.
Union forces captured her ante-bellum
mansion in what is now Arlington Cemetery
and defiled it, because it was the only thing
of Lee's they could get their hands on.)
Suppose you kill Gaddafi and Hussein,
or sad old Nazis, huddled in the dock.
So what exactly do you think you gain?
Your own humanity is what you mock,
not them. The winners stringing-up the losers
can not be right. You heap your fury on
the halt and helpless. Beggars can’t be choosers,
but winners can. (Why not Ben-Gurion?)
Put Karadzic before a firing-squad
for spite, or just to entertain the flock,
but don’t disguise the ugly thing your lust is.
Don’t talk of Law, or Liberty, or God.
Go rape the home of absent Mary Custis,
if rape you must. Don’t dress it up as Justice.
Today a man accused me of lying
While calling me soulless white devil
destroyer of the earth
Revealing all he ever said a to me
over years was deceit well o be fair
The burden of tolerance toward all white men
must be hard to carry
Descended of those who had Martain burried
But here is the epiphany
Nothing, not narcissism
Nor greed nothing breeds hate
Like religion started o believe by Catholicism
and Creator of aristocratic governing.
The true message of any religion
can only be heard by the unbiased One
For a message is learned only when
You quit applying your wisdom
To words held holy
You would not of books written
Based on others perception
To say and show righteousness
is allowed to Be seen via any line of wisdom.
Be strong and bold we all hold divinity
From birth don't let that go
But the paradox in all conformed
Judgemetal belief. Thinking there words are
transcends. All
I laugh at blind faith followed by narcissistic men
And why Not its a excuse to place yourself above
The majority of all men
Dude if you seer this by awkward chance
Know your words are meaningless
And should not be allowed to transcend
The lips attached to brainwashed head.
All who say they know and judge you
Use reason to silence stupidity
How did I get
to be this old?
By listening mostly!
A skill and an art
That sets one apart
Just listening...mostly
It demands ears op’ed wide
And opinions kept inside
Not speaking...Just listening mostly
Letting another have the stage
To vent joy or release rage
This is friendship...listening mostly
One can speak volumes by not saying a word
Silence is meaningful when nothing is heard
Understanding is listening...mostly
A nod...A simple touch...A knowing
wink can say so much
Needy souls need listening to`
...mostly…`
Mostly bluebells
in dells and fells
that springtime tells
with her soft bells.
In my ears' shells
you say "Bluebells..."
and my tear wells
by fells and dells.
---------------------------
Contest - 455, Any Form
or None, Any Theme,
Up to a Maximum of
20 Lines
Sponsor - Brian Strand
3/8/2018
1st place win
Sometimes I pray and don't get what I think I need
But always had food, for I had three mouths to feed
God looks out for me, this I know. My love will grow
Stronger as I live ever longer, and wondering how so
God works in His mysterious ways, I pray for days on
End. I will to the end. My body is bigger, mind is strong
My height is shrinking, and so will my belly someday
I used to be so skinny for years, back in the day
So mostly yes, I get what I need, I feed myself, free
And have family and presents under the Christmas tree
I am blessed, I guess and shouldn't get upset when it's no
Maybe I shouldn't ask for some things, just let it all go
God hears me, always has. Of this fact I surely know
Tonight it was no, but tomorrow may be yes
How His gifts come to be is not just a guess
I know in my heart, as I have from the start
That I was blessed with cuteness and a good heart
That's it for tonight. I'm going to bed
I'll ponder tomorrow the dreams in my head
Then I'll write some more with my open door
I'll look forward to the rain coming soon, more
It'll pour, like a fountain. Will be snow in mountain
You are living outside
Your mind.
Are you qualified
Mr. Hyde
To deal with man kind?
You are living outside
By the beautiful seaside
Unconfined.
Are you qualified
Not to do homicide
On human kind?
You are living outside
Who would be satisfied
When your so unkind.
Are you qualified
To provide
An account of your daily grind?
You are living outside
Are you qualified?
No matter existence (mine) lamely, mostly, and nearly spent...
I barely experienced
getting clothed (think fashion wise
as metaphorically swiftly tailored
harried styled mortal)
approaching naked truth
regarding life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness..,
nonetheless yours truly forever gropes
in the darkness of ignorance analogous
to imagined (envisioned) asymptote
demarcating experiential enlightenment
heading toward verity of righteousness,
yet never subtending arc of enlightenment.
Quite the contrary woebegotten mortal
forthwith struggling to acquire
consciousness raising awareness
approximating essential virtue
offset (er... rather severely deflected)
toward pitfall of vice
(comprising gamut of lurid temptations),
which default status
exerts overwhelming, overpowering, overemphasizing
draw (think powerful magnetic force).
I frankly, grievously, and honestly attest
predilection finds this hoary beastie boy
scarcely able to tread water swiftly rising
above his hairless fabby, & doughy chest,
where left and right man boobs delineate
miniature (albeit sagging) Mount Everest
quite obviously feeble human specimen
(farcical) gentleman quarterly not hottest
male within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
nor anywhere upon oblate spheroid, he jest
I kibitz re: absent good humor lie bull lest
stubbornly refusing to leave debauchery
rather remain holed up within rats nest
steeped in familiarization re: egg guarding
hen pecking (matt er fact) Harris sing pest,
where no spring chicken thwarts impossible
mission (mother clucker sabotages rooster)
offsetting opportunities to experience nirvana
quaffing electric koolaid acid test brew rest
assured (me not snorting while typing) test
ting out (lit Miss, really haint no chore), and
merely sounding out prospects to make vest
head interest for prosperous friendship with
brio, extra mayo, sauteed onions and zest.
She wished he was there
molding her in tight embrace
though her arms would not hold him.
She longed for his stare
caressing her as his lips neared
though her lips would not meet him.
wished ~ longed ~ molding ~ caressing ~ arms ~ lips
she wanted to hurt that man ~ that man she loves with all her heart
why had he abruptly hurt her ~ the woman he loved with all his heart
WHY
mostly, mainly, she wanted him to seek her ~ to speak to her
i am going to sit down here
try this cheesecake ice cream cake
with a dollop of cool whip
listen to the waves crash as i
listen to some oldies from the 50s
and early 60s
i am going to let the rhythmic
crashing of the waves take me
away and nod my head to black
is black by los bravos followed by
jenny take a ride by ole mitch and
those detroit wheels traced by that
song i like called come softly to me
now what is the name of the group
does that little piece of wonderfulness
though i am by myself, my mind is
free and my stress level is zero
i will drink my vanilla oatmilk with
pride and pray for another sunny day
tomorrow
life does not practice perfection,
so i rush in the house when a sudden
starts to fall rather expressively
however, it is all groovy and gravy
after donovan makes me smile again
with that mountain song with the
unsuspectingly funky groove
The time comes and time passes by
Mostly dry leaves sometimes flowers
Your letters have grown fewer
Puppies I do like they are shy
Life in time are bubbles of days
Nights too, they're predominant
Football cricket movie office
Pursuits for some jasmine fragrant
A breeze came up that day while I
Was busy in looking for outstanding roses
Look there at the garden that was
That was a desert, the wind said
No, no, my superego said
Pointing at the cured depressed
I just held her hand in her blues
Lent my ear to sounds of her breasts
Now came the ripples on the shore
It's the expression of the truth
of life, murmurs of water said
A bird whistled, yes, it's the core
She came, put up a while, set out
What is life, just a joy trip
If you can leave a small garden
What more meaning you can call for
You come, put up a while, set out
Life is a tour, a bit bitter, mostly sweet
________________________________________
May 26, 2019
The Meaning of Life Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:Chantelle Anne Cooke