Best Neighborhoods Poems
I saw Nazis march yesterday
upon the streets of Charlottesville.
And, with swastikas on display,
crazed clansmen chanted blood will spill.
I saw Satan grinning with pride
at racial slurs shouted in hate.
And, bigots standing by his side
help the violence escalate.
I saw torches light up the night,
snaking through the black neighborhoods.
And skinheads looking for a fight;
all that was missing were white hoods.
I saw white supremacists, proud
of drawing blood and spreading fear.
And a car plow into the crowd,
its intentions made all too clear.
I saw President Trump place blame
on both sides for this killing spree.
And, a shocked nation reel in shame
at how prejudiced he could be.
I saw the projected end of
tolerance and democracy.
And, mantras of hate replace love
with smugness and hypocrisy.
Quatrain
8/13/2017
It was tantalizing, sweet completion
Lines of blue ink filling white space
Tastes of emotions, colors of consonants
Music of vowels, syllables singing
To create, and satiate
Then, time thinned
Responsibility and stress stepped in
Poetry, after all, does not pay the bills
Stop cloud watching and become an adult
They said, and they were right
So I packed her away, that silly girl
relegated to the dusty back room of memory
Gray and wilted, foolish scribblings
Nobody cared about anymore
Years, decades of feigned disinterest
Begins to dissolve in rediscovering
The flash of joy in composing
Ignited by a song-writing friend
Who dared encouragement
Steps sluggish, atrophied, but there
Saved in muscle memory
I hungered for nourishment, for balance
On unsteady limbs - I wanted my silly girl back
And I have her, revived on Soup from
My poetry sisters and brothers
Now, I am gaining
The reach of my wings
Soaring over cities of sonnets
Neighborhoods of roundels and rispettos
A haiku hamlet, an acrostic alleyway
Kingdoms of pantoums and villanelles
To the unfenced openness
Of free verse
I am still the bedrock of me
Stretching to climb taller trees.
2/23/19
Cityscape
The artist’s hand reshapes yesterday
In straight lines
Of hard edges -
Peaks of
Right angles perfected
Missing oblique or obtuse –
Claiming the horizon
In full frontal
Silhouette
Cut from ebony shades,
When daylight sinks into the shadows
And twilight goes down meeting midnight
One dimension pyramids,
Floors layered by steel reinforced
Triangulated honeycombs,
Octagonal rounds
Gather cotton clouds
Topping off their naked crowns,
Lofty spires
Scrape the midnight
To gather far flung stars
Flat rectangles with jute box tops
Soar with arches -
Lines leaping up and sliding down -
Squares low and squat,
Took up their space,
Yanked from the line,
Openings left
Like toothless
Grinning;
Concealed within the cityscape unblinking
The murmurings of urban sighs,
No rise and fall of breathing,
Foundation’s feet bound in stone
Swaying only when magnum cores
Tremble moving plates east to west, north to south;
Unseen
The doorway cradle songs
Of shivering dreams,
Desperation
Pacing
On the nineteenth floor
Fauna’s night perfume
Floating up behind dark floral gates
Of swirling iron
Grids of neighbors – blocks of neighborhoods -
Graphs of boulevards winding round,
Absent from the cityscape.
Inspirational verse – “When the lights go down in the city and the sun shines on the bay; do I want to be there in my city….I want to be there in my city.” Journey
~*~
Still and motionless, aye!
We prisoners in endless lockdowns lie.
Dreams of life, as it once used to be.
Days, sparkled with magnanimity.
When mouths were not gagged and children ran and played.
Those days, ah, never coming back, we live in media haze.
Now the chains grow yet heavier, yet tighter.
It's even hard to be a verbal fighter.
Punishment in wait for all who question.
How dare we disregard divine government direction?
People like me who speak and think for themselves,
In any form, our poems are read, but comments...shelved!
Truth telling is so very despised!
Punishment for anyone such as I, is always nigh!
Evil walks the earth disguised as good.
In all countries, all neighborhoods.
You cannot laugh true evil away.
For your tears, swell, in your eyes and your unique,
Godspeed Soul Bay.
We weep for the dead, but are we truly alive?
Life, still and motionless, in penumbrad, masked,
poioned lockdown disguise.
1-16-2021
~ 2~
Dedicated to all poets here, willing to take a stand for truth at the cost of being disliked. You write about it...You really impress me! Merci, blessings.
Rife are grievous echoes lamenting worldwide
From widespread disgust clamoring weary sigh,
Perturbed in lonesomeness, bawling in dark,
Clasped beneath shroud of tenebrous clouds,
Rendering world aghast in grip of distraught.
Battlefield is raging, tearing apart humanity,
Women and children are dying of atrocities
From bombs and missiles fired indiscriminately
Destroying buildings, annihilating normalcy,
As lives scatter, fleeing death and uncertainty.
Fueled by anger, pent-up distress is brewing,
Helplessness is stirring, caught in pandemic,
Lives once dynamic are static, unengaging;
Minds are bewildered, hearts are agitating,
Feelings, once solemn, have now turned eerie.
Oceans are heating, hurricanes are churning,
The Alps are melting, yet the rivers are drying,
Cities are flooding, neighborhoods are drowning,
In uncontrolled infernos forests are burning,
Unfathomable climate is plaguing farm yields.
Gales stirring extremes roil storms of suffering,
Lava churning desperation is boiling, bubbling,
Ready to erupt violently spewing angst volcanic,
Challenging fate openly, tired of venting silently,
Foretelling of warning: a blow-up is simmering.
November 4, 2022
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 14 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Tile chosen: Tinderbox
Neighborhoods burned. Riots laid them to waste
The world is tense with racial dissension
Judgement by color leaves an acrid taste
But God offers hope through intervention
He created us with skin, dark and fair
No one has the right to question His plan
We should ask for tolerance through prayer;
and accede that we are the race of man
On God, we should rely with faith and trust
Because living in dread and constant fear
will end with more hardships and a life trussed
and shackled by things we should hold most dear
We stand on the threshold of tomorrow ~
Better without prejudice and sorrow
September 6th 2020
A Better Tomorrow
Sponsor: John Hamilton
And still she smiles
Even in this darkness, her darkness,
when a moonless sky
preaches fear from a pulpit of shadows
pointing elongated fingers
and walls crumble
into a rubble strewn alleyway
with graffiti issues, spray painted threats
on frantic facades dripping. . .
common sense
hides in sealed envelopes
addressed but not delivered
to neighborhoods in need
while self professed wanderers
linger on sidewalks of
washed out hopscotch scenes
by a raincloud that never seems to stop
Her beauty shines
in effervescent streams
illuminating a photograph, poetry
and a kind word from quivering lips
caressing my eyes
in watercolor enchantments
and pastel pleasures,
showing me it is not what, but who. . .
for this darkness is hers,
weighted thoughts on soft shoulders
binding wrists in tethered worries,
draining dreams from casted wishes
and as regrets rip at the fabric,
folding seams in crooked stitches,
her heart continues to outrun the pain
and still she smiles, for me
You will remove the roadblocks that block my paths each day
You will not hamper what I do to succeed in my own way
You will not play your high pitched notes within my deafened ears
And take your hands from off my mind, and stop it with your fears
You will stop harassing me because I belong to Him
You will remove your minions now who paint the shadows grim
You will realize I have power that goes beyond this realm
He who shared the victory is stationed at the helm
You cannot overcome Him or steal me from His Father
You do not have the power to take my soul, don't bother
You will listen to my orders and heed the words I say
I know my place within the kingdom and don't get in my way
You will stop it with the H.A.A.R.P. toy and taking people down
And cease from tearing up the homes in neighborhoods and towns
And halt your little puppet show in Washington, DC
And get your hand now off this nation's blood bought liberty
You better realize you're in for a fight, a fight you will not win
I've been bought with sinless blood, by a King who had no sin
He's the one you came against and failed to win His throne
But that belongs to no one else except the Cornerstone
You will stop your taunting that amounts to nothing good
And leave this house and take your bones that wear that dark robed hood
Ever since the dawn of time you’ve constantly deceived
But I know Him whom I’ve believed so consider yourself relieved
June 7, 2013
The sky becomes synonymous with grey,
signifying a storm is on its way.
And a sullied sun swiftly slips away;
allowing shadows to overcome day,
while clouds release a downpour straightaway.
Thunder echoes across purple-bruised skies,
as lightning causes drops to vaporize.
And ebony descends to claim its prize
while the whirling winds wail and Nature cries.
The treetops are tossed and swayed by each gust
as brisk breezes suddenly feel robust:
arriving swiftly; no time to adjust.
Broken by a murmured mantra of sound,
silence acquiesces as raindrops pound.
And pellets of ice get viciously hurled!
Everything falls in scattered disarray,
when twisters start to materialize.
Hail and rain meld into an icy crust
that turns the streets into a battleground
and neighborhoods into a netherworld.
no end to this neverending sentence...just a sour note and a few mad quotes from the afterlife
afterlife? more like ants in the afterbirth...once a mighty warrior now a worm...i slither and i squirm...
no fire and no heat just chained to this seat...forced to view the victims of violence from this man of misery
with eyes and ears open...not even a blink...with every scarred soul the lower i sink
the movie begins and the theater is dark...and i'm not alone...i can hear other dead dogs bark
these innocent faces turn insane just in seconds...i can feel their disease...turning blessings to curses
a sad symphony and a choir of chaos keep spewing their venomous verses
i once was the greatest but now i'm the worst
i just can't breaK FREE from these shackles and chains...i hear the word NEVER into eternity
the echoes of screams they just come back from the screen
now the skeletal masses are laughing at me
i ask for forgiveness 1000 times a day but my tormentors just laugh..."NOT A CHANCE"
graves of ghosts empty and they all come to me to thank me in person for just being me
no uniformed ugliness just brutality beasts...they all take their turn from the
a to the z
i cry out to God and he says, "IT'S TOO LATE"
i talk to the devil and he says, "you'll be free any day"
vengeance was mine now i'm getting slain...for all of my sins and my murderous ways
for attrocities all...from the small to the large...i turned good men to monsters and massacred love
i turned peaceful neighborhoods into ghetto battlefields
i broke apart happy families as they cried,moaned,and squealed
more than six million got sent to their makers with lead sleeping pills
i lived the devils deal...now repaid with revenge...i'm sad,seedy and sour...still no suicide syringe
like blasphemy on a binge i tore hideous holes in the fabric of time
yes to my children of darkness i made the demonic seem divine...i even claimed to turn water into wine
now truth and terror has me thirsty for some kind of a release
from this concentration camp i NEVER can leave
please just one tear from heaven can put me at ease
oh what it must be like
to have a name like Devonshire
a name so Royal
belonging to empires
chisslied in stone
in swanky neighborhoods
streets with large gates
or statues stood
the name of the restaurant
or the name on the deed
so high up in the building
somewhere having tea
a heavily Britished accent
with eyes half way closed
a chin lifted up
wearing butler clothes
they really do wear ascots
like they do on t.v.
but we'll never see them
there to high to see
away in their clubs
or on the golf course
watching the symphony
or getting divorced
you might catch a glimpse
of them if you travel abroad
sunning topless on beaches
or bottle popping at night
their such a restless little crowd
to them the world is small
they wrestle with there empires
and try to take it all
i hope i didn't offend anyone
by using their name
i sat down to write this poem
and this is what came
any similarities
to persons we know
is purely coincidental
it's just part of a show
clove cinnamon for simon&dunkin tuna for garfunkel.
wobbly looped spindles, hums tunes "holy mackerel".
silent whispers alluring hoarding ajar.
more candid topics, endorsed by chet choppock.
overtime blenders whip hot fudge tapioca.
from the larva, emerges paul harvey.
orator greetings predestines"good day, utopia.
good healing from dr. oz & charles ozgood,
understood.
bytes penetrating sequin hoods of vast neighborhoods.
well steaked positions, instills glorified bastions.
no wasteful questions, bout times were in.
unconsumed media leaves abundance to chance (t)hen.
signs of our times, perhaps, we should thank (T)hen.
In heat
the pulse of your streets.
I've heard the crack
of hard political whips
that pinch the air.
Cores of human topography,
your aging neighborhoods.
Your people kick cans
counting gravel like jewels,
while chiselers roast dogs
in the courthouse.
Swine flu kills
the papers.
And already the sky is
feverish.
In your train tunnels
a violinist plays pianissimo.
I've seen
railroad men search for him
along your tracks.*
But you are always
the sweltering sore
of the Atlantic.
A rusty mouth
for dark ships.
A blind brick town
of boarded storefronts
and ***** flicks,
you are buried.
Brown bag your way
to the last alley.
The tenants throw
rocks at your windows.
The rain has stopped
washing your sewers.
*From an old legend of
railroad workers on the east coast of the United States.
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982
DOWN A STORM DRAIN GONE FOREVER.
There was once a wicked, jealous old human,
Who lived in a house down the lane,
Not far from us,
Ugly and mean sounding, couldn’t tell
If man or woman,
Was narky to the neighborhoods children,
Including me,
We discovered this human was woman with
One large bosom!
She lived on her own, no children or husband,
Or even a pet,
She always wore the same apron, her hands always
Hidden in this grubby apron,
My friends decided on a bet,
That she had a gun and would should shoot,
Us all dead
Why else would she always keep her hands
In her apron we said!
We could never have guessed the truth
About this apron.
One day we saw two young girls laughing at her
She was furious, fiddled in her apron
And immediately,
Upon doing this, the girls fell, and each
Broke a leg!
We couldn’t believe what we had seen, I noticed a
Hairpin on the path, going back, very sharp,
And then another and another,
Each one, a different color.
Obviously someone was throwing the
Used pins away,
In a very careless way!
I have to find out what is in her apron pocket,
I said to my friends, so early the next day,
We all met
Behind her house, I was chosen to be
The pickpocket,
So I crept along the bushes outside her house
Waiting for her to have her afternoon snooze,
I saw a locket around her neck which was open
And from it peeped bright colored
Hairpins, she was asleep,
With one eye open, I thought I could see
Her eye socket!
Terrified I stretched out my hand, put it gently
Into her apron pocket,
And pulled out a tattered faceless little doll,
Home made from potato sackcloth,
A voodoo doll, screamed James,
He was certainly not wrong for he played
A great deal of TV horror games!
She obviously pricked the voodoo doll
With colored pins,
Every time someone annoyed her, she would one
Day pay for her sins!
As quickly as we could we ran to the nearest drain
Down the street and dropped it in, it fell silently
And disappeared, gone forever,
That woman was not sane!
The next day early we walked towards her house,
The house was empty and the horrid old witch gone,
We breathed a sigh of relief as we watched
A new morning dawn!
Contest: Down a storm drain, gone forever,
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Date entered: 2019/03/02
All Stand
Here comes the President, of Our land, Our Nation.
He is tall and smart, and speaks from the heart.
Not always nicely.
Not everyone hears him, some wish he would be quiet.
Not everyone likes him, some wish he would resign.
I don’t care.
I dare.
I voted for him, because “they” were against America.
It does not matter which party I am.
I don’t care.
I dare.
I voted for him, because “they” were against America.
“they made that clear then… and now…”
(they held their hands up as one… I watched the debates…
I was horrified, as none stood for the Citizen’s of Our Land, not one)
I watched closely as the mid term’s provided bugs to eat the capital.
I stared at the screens of fake news while they built houses of lies,
neighborhoods of deceit, and unrest among the populace.
Great people in power pouring their gray water into the public drinking system…
That we may all feel so self important, as to now see …
Evil in fancy dress, living in castles on hills surrounded by poverty and disease.
(the return of the dark ages)
The sign post up ahead, “Welcome home.”
I found out the last guy left a mess.
No surprise…
Words like swamp have been around for years, so have the alligators.
Deals done in the dark, between offices representing all of us,
to steal gain, for self worth. Family fortunes,
made on the backs of peasants,
whose hopes and dreams were for a better tomorrow. (for all)
No surprise…
America the beautiful, the land of plenty, “In God We Trust”.
Everyone wants to come here.
(including the socialists and communists
and all those that hate her for their own personal reasons)
But so many instill fear.
We don’t want you…here.
Beware.
“WE” do care!
“We” will dare.
To stand up, stand for and stand against.
To have... upheld, to uphold and to;
hand down, hand shake or shake up…
anyone and everyone that try’s to stop…
Our President.
God Bless him, I voted for…
quit trying to impeach him,
he is doing the job.