Best Nary Poems
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Tread cobbled path of wandering heart;
She speaks in moonlight spirit,
Thine treasure chest come undune,
'Till I lose mine feathers,
Frozen by her sole divinity;
She, found to mine lost,
Twixt these street exile redefined by her golden glory,
pounding on my chamber door;
I must forego the counsel of my twisted devils,
Rise from lay 'pon this brow beaten soul;
Swell into her wonder... lift love anew!
Heaven restore mine black gloom;
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Spilleth' over, soothing matrimony.
~JSLambert
© PoeTTreeZ Publishing
On the lake with expensive gear I troll
On the bank is a kid with willow pole
Much to my chagrin
He's hauling them in
I can't get a nibble to save my soul
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 in John Freeman's "Limericks About Fishing" Contest - May 2011
My morning excursion to the pee pee place
Is fraught with danger, often fall on my face
Walls, doors, even the dresser
Obstacles cause me lot of displeasure
Destroying my good looks with nary a trace
Kenny is suddenly,
Luminously, animated;
with a grin that could crack a safe!
He whistles to get your attention,
then beckons you over
to the parted curtains.
He has something
to share with you.
This is not the usual,
insular,
self-absorbed Kenny.
MoonMan MoonMan
what is it you see?
Can you read the secrets
of the telling Moon?
MoonMan MoonMan
Show me! Tell me!
This is Moonstruck Kenny.
Touched by Moonpower.
Captivated by Moonpower!
Ecstatic about Moonpower!
He’s made a “lunar-landing”
and he wants you to be “there” too.
Lunatics-in-arms we become,
in awe of this celestial
visitor peering into
the room from on high.
MoonMan MoonMan
what is it you see?
Can you read the secrets
of the telling Moon?
MoonMan MoonMan
Show me! Tell me!
The Moon’s pull is irresistible.
Kenny’s pull is irresistible.
And so you succumb,
temporarily mystified – delving within
for ancient knowledge about basic things;
the rhythms of the sky-dwellers.
Knowledge longlost since we insulated
ourselves from
and against
The Elemental.
Yet Kenny has not lost The Wonder.
Kenny is over The Moon about The Moon.
He beams a crescent-shaped smile
that’d make even The Man-in-the-Moon
green with envy.
MoonMan MoonMan
what is it you see?
Can you read the secrets
of the telling Moon?
MoonMan MoonMan
Show me! Tell me.
Kenny is the Moon Man.
He is The Moon-in-the-Man
Just like The Moon, Kenny has phases.
He waxes and wanes as do we all.
But…just now…yes, you catch just a glimpse of it…
Kenny is illuminary!
And you bathe in the light of his delight!
MoonMan MoonMan
Show me! Tell me!
In the waning darkness of predawn,
they trundle off to work
Hearing the sound of the cock crow,
time stamps another day in the life of a slave
Going off to work in the cotton fields,
or to gather the sugar cane ...
and other fruitful things
On this day, they get relief from the heat
by a cool morning rain
With downcast eyes, and saying nary a word,
the pain in their souls were clearly heard
As the rain comes down harder,
and silent tears rise up to the heavens,
prayers not empty are received
The promise of salvation is delivered swiftly
Thunder speaks with a mighty sound,
lightning answers with a gavel pound
And all the slaves fall on their knees to the ground
as the tremors abound
Then the earth opens up,
and the plantation house falls in
Swallowing up the masters of oppression
Servants of the house were warned to flee
in a frightening dream last night
To flee quickly once the rain descends in the morning
Voices of praise are mingled with the tumultuous,
atmospheric rage ...
For on this day,
freedom comes with the unlocking of the slaver's cage
any all to much truth for a liar is confusion what a web deceit
dark eagles glide by
nary a written flight plan
I marvel at them
Nary a word was said
as they tumbled onto the bed
Passions in overdrive churned
what were the lessons they learned...
Nary a word is said
as they fall into bed half-dead
In separate bedlams a-snoring
escape from a lifetime of warring
A house is haunted not only by specters
But also by the things left unsaid and undone
Words spoken in the silence to despair
Soliloquies of love that echo in the dark
The gloom entraps memories
Ghosts of love stalk the shadows
With phantoms of unrequited deeds
Is the house truly haunted?
Or is it our vulnerabilities and repudiations?