Best Ninety Six Poems
One hundred and six degrees was the rumor.
I checked at noon, it was only ninety-six.
Rumor fake news.
I sit on my front porch
lapping up the sun, enjoying the warmth.
Dog is panting like she has run a marathon
Sparkling wind chimes tinkle their happiness
as cat rubs against my legs, claiming me
as her territory.
Dog soon escapes to her air conditioned
fortress with her daddy who refuses to come out here.
I glory in this warmth, planning to go no where.
A humid, sultry, summer day.
Loving her for the warmth
she exudes, I relish in her hugs.
In Nineteen ninety-six, our son and wife, Majors
In US Army, moved to Izmir, their new base.
As usual, whatever place they were assigned,
We flew to visit them as well as dear grandkids.
So off we went to spend two weeks in Turkey, this
Outstanding country we had never been before.
So much to see at Ephesus—Metropolis
Of Antique Age; The Stadium, the Harbor Bath,
Basilica, the Marble Road, Heracles Gate—
All ruins now. Were sad to see these wondrous works
Of art and architecture now in disarray
And strewn about on fields on which they proudly stood.
Of varied striking sites in Pergamon, we saw
The City Walls, the Aqueducts, Acropolis,
The Temple Dionysus, that of Trajan too.
So many ages, periods had ruled this place,
Artistic wonders, structures turned to ruins—works
Of Persian, Greek, Roman and more, in pieces lay.
Besides the many ancient ruins visited,
We were amazed that many locals spoke our tongue.
They did their best to make us feel so much at ease,
Were gracious in combined Mid-Eastern/Euro style
Of hospitality and types of food they ate
And served, like cheese, tomatoes, olives of all kinds.
Izmir, a city mixed with culture old and new,
Like modern shops and open markets, outdoor stands
With fish and meats on ice, yet weighed on modern scales.
And women with fine bread on plates held up on heads,
Who walked the streets in morning, dressed in peasant garb;
Yet working business women wore more modern dress.
We ventured to the famous city, Istanbul,
Surprised to see the many high-rise buildings there,
And streets so overcrowded with their vehicles;
Large offices and business centers everywhere—
Ladies with fashion boots, purses and western dress;
Big contrast with those living back in country hills.
Such history surrounds this ancient, distant land;
So many varied cultures ruled their sacred world.
Museums filled with artifacts from centuries,
Safeguarded and in view to honor and behold.
This trip shall always hold such special, vivid thoughts
For us to cherish and remember for all time.
Of course, this one-time trip was many years ago;
We're happy we had ventured then instead of now,
For times have changed; such unrest grows within our world.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Memorable Vacations
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Judged: May 8, 2015
Iambic Hexameter
Philippines, my country of birth,
one of the countries in Southeast Asia.
It is an archipelago or group of islands,
with more than seven thousand islands.
Luzon, the largest island in the northern
part of the country, is where I was born
and where Manila, the capital is located.
Manila, the city known as Pearl of the Orient.
Magellan, the Portuguese explorer for Spain
claimed the archipelago in fifteen hundred
twenty one, named the islands Las Felipinas
or The Philippines, after King Phillip II of Spain.
Philippines was colonized more than three
hundred years, from fifteen hundred sixty five
until eighteen hundred ninety eight and ruled
under Mexico-based Viceroyalty of New Spain.
Manila was called Pearl of the Orient Seas
by the historian/Jesuit priest Juan Jose Delgado
in seventeen hundred fifty one for being a way
of sea transactions during Asian trade of goods.
However, in Jose Rizal’s poem “My Last Farewell,”
he wrote before his execution by the Spanish
government for rebellion through his writings,
he stated his country as Pearl of the Orient.
So, Philippines, the country and not Manila,
the city became known as Pearl of the Orient,
upon the discovery of his poem after his execution
in December thirty, eighteen hundred ninety six.
Philippines is known as Pearl of the Orient for
its strategic location in Asia, rich biodiversity or
different kinds of plants and animals, natural
resources and its natural beauty and splendor.
The Spanish Crown called it Pearl of the Orient
for the country was a precious source of spices,
other resources and trade of goods, even prior to
their colonization to acquire a share in spice trade.
Philippines’ natural gem is south sea pearls
and it is renowned for cultivating south sea pearls.
The famous pearl in the country, known as The Pearl
of Lao Tzu, was considered the largest known pearl.
The pearl weighed fourteen pounds, found by a
Filipino diver in nineteen thirty four and later, a giant
pearl, the Pearl of Puerto weighing seventy five pounds,
found by a fisherman, both discovered in Palawan Island.
No doubt why The Philippines is called Pearl of the Orient,
the two biggest pearls were found in Palawan, Philippines.
Isn’t that the most obvious, sensible reason? I wonder……
Well, what do you think?...... Just asking……
I'm writing this poem in the last days of 2018. The government of the United States is shut down in a fight over the building of a border wall. I am reminded of another border wall that was erected during my lifetime.
In 1961, East Germany built a wall
Of concrete, barbed wire, and steel
Ninety-six miles around East Berlin
At the cost of a bit less than four million dollars
And a bit more than 200 lives.
Intended to stem the flood of East Germans
Seeking freedom to prosper in the West.
A young and inexperienced President Kennedy
Didn't comprehend why East Germany
Needed a concrete wall
When it already had
An Iron Curtain.
In 1989 the Berlin wall was torn down in a frenzy
Of sledge hammers and bulldozers.
Only remnants of it now remain - mostly in museums.
East Germans celebrated and rebuilt their lives.
The reunited Germany flourished
And joined other nations in a united European future.
Why do we think that our wall will have a different legacy?
B.C., seven hundred seventy-six
was the date of the first Olympic picks.
They held (these sportsmanship pioneers)
Olympiads ev'ry four years
The first Olympic race was for sprinters -
Corubus, a chef, was named the winner.
Running one hundred ninety-two meters
he took the lead without any sneakers.
There were no medals; first place got a wreath
worn on his head, twisted from olive leaf.
Second and third place got only glory -
plus bragging rights in telling their story.
Men competed in the nude at the start;
women were invited "not" to take part.
These games were stopped by Roman signature:
“Way too pagan,” declared the emperor.
Make no mistake; it’s not a mystery
exclusive to Athens’ sports history.
What we still call the “modern” Olympics -
were revived back in eighteen ninety-six.
Nineteen-o-four, here in my own country,
my grandmother traveled to St. Louis.
The Games were held as part of the World’s Fair;
Granny Emma and three sisters worked there.
written August 13, 2016
for Janis Thompson's Olympic Mania contest
I remember nineteen ninety six
like it was yesterday - the penalty
the way that Gareth kicked the ball and missed
I bet he never thought that day that he
would ever be back in the game again
his name engraved in Lions' hearts, their
lips aflame with songs of praise, and men
in waistcoat shops, and women swooning where
he might have been. You've got to love a man
who wears his pride so modestly, who's cute
who wears a new suit stylishly, who can
(if dream we dare) bring home the Cup to boot
If on that fateful day he'd walked away
we wouldn't be here, would we. Let us play.
© Gail Foster 11th July 2018
I lay in bed watching as over ninety-souls passed away
There was nothing I could do except cry upon that day
I lay in my bed my sheets crisp and white
As the doctor walked in and said ‘We take the foetus away tonight.’
I asked in a voice breaking, more of a whimper now it seems
‘You’re telling me my baby’s dead, the end of all our dreams?’
The death count was rising higher on the television screen
But to me one more was added, my child as yet unseen
The curtains pulled around the bed just opposite to mine
Perhaps it was supposed to be private, but I heard them fine
‘Come now it’s time to say if you want us to abort
Your weeks are running out now, and time is getting short.’
I looked at the screen no-other eyes seemed to see
I saw two more lives added, no-one had heard my plea
The count already ninety-seven and yet here was another one
An unwanted baby, a mother unwilling to pay for her fun.
Ninety-eight souls were lost on an that April day
Only ninety-six are mourned, for ninety- six they pray
But as I lay in my hospital bed, two more souls did die
I wonder if she remembers on this April day I still cry.
I stand and watch the, telly my two sons’ towering over me
They kiss and say ‘See you later mum we’ll be back for tea’
I watch them tall and strong and give thanks to heaven above
We tried against all odds and now have our sons we so love.
© Mandy Tams 15/4/2014
A true tale and I use the word ‘unwilling’ in the correct sense, I was there and heard the conversation.
The Obstinate Lighthouse
It was off the coast of Newfoundland in the year of nineteen ninety six
A humble little lighthouse, against a fleet of mighty ships
Lights flickering in the night time and the Americans did say
Beholder of the light ahead, you are in our way
We are the USS Abraham Lincoln, an Aircraft Carrier, of Might
I demand you change your course to North, unless you want a fight
We are the USS Abraham Lincoln, the second largest ship
I have you on our radar screen, you are but a little blip
Cruisers and Destroyer’s, they steam along with me
A mighty fleet of war machines, do not mess with thee
Change your course immediate, move out of our way
Your obstinance annoys us, what do you have to say
The Canadian voice responded, you do not frighten me
I am solid and stand firm, like the mighty great oak tree
Saving souls is my work, here I stand like a rock
So open up your big fat mouth and insert in it, a sock
I am but a little lighthouse, I have no power to prove
USS Abraham Lincoln and the fleet with which you cruise
I am staying put, my friend, it is you that has to move.
https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/the-obstinate-lighthouse/
18/12/2018
Two hundred ninety-six seasons have passed
since I first appeared on the earthly scene,
and with luck this season won’t be my last,
and thus with aging I won’t contravene.
The fact that my hair has turned grey and thin,
and aches and pains are the battles I wage,
like roadmaps these wrinkles now line my skin,
I now must admit, to myself, my age.
But aging is like a mountain we climb,
alternatives to growing old are few,
and not one that I wish for at this time.
So now this birthday thought I offer you…
the passing year is not something to shun,
it’s just another trip around the sun.
December 13, 2021
My thoughts reflecting on my birthday last week.
My son told me it was just another trip around the sun.
Thanks for giving me this line, Ron.
Eight years since I picked up a drink,
rock bottom hit me
as hard as a wall-
I’ve had ninety-six months to reflect and think,
but before you run you
have to learn how to crawl.
There’s no cure for addiction, I had an allure for affliction-
Healing comes in time when you surrender the prescription.
Without the desire to swallow a pill,
without the craving of feeling desperate,
I’ve realized the only
space I needed to fill,
was the hole where I was inconsiderate.
Eight years since I carried selfish greed,
not thinking about my
daughter in her youth-
I wasn’t there for her every little need,
I regret that everyday…
...honest to God truth.
Letting go of my fears filled my soul with crimson tears-
Pleading for atonement brought my faith back in each moment.
There’s no cure for a hard habit to break,
just a choice to stay in remission-
So many hard steps I have had to take,
and taken many a walk into submission.
My fears washed away-
the night has given me day.
Healing comes in time when
you understand it’s only God’s way.
Through faith and prayer I’ve learned to care
about myself and the ones whom I hurt badly-
Life isn’t whole with an addicted soul,
and the depth of honesty I’ve learned…sadly.
Eight years since I left my old life,
time flies,
yet yesterday seems so near-
Now I focus on being a good mother and wife,
and bestow my serenity to...
...those I hold dear.
Eight years ago today was the beginning of
my wonderful life. I suffered from addiction for
many years and fought hard and overcame so
many obstacles. Sure, I have regrets but more
joy to fill the hole I used to have in my heart.
I was 29 when I got sober and I am grateful I
was so young. Now I have the rest of my life
to live healthy, moderately and happily...
May God bless the afflicted...
March 7, 2017
I count the steps from my bed to the door
And I wonder if I can.
I count the steps from my bed to the door
And I wonder if I dare not to.
I've spent years wondering--
I've kept my head in the clouds,
Or in books,
Or under the sheets
To be anywhere but here.
There must have been times when I've been elsewhere
But right now, I forget.
An Overview
When Villonia Beebe was a baby of three
She got it in her head to trim the Christmas tree.
She lit all the pretty candles,
Tossed the matchstick away,
Sister, brother, dad, and mother
Never saw Christmas Day.
Nine years went by, she bloomed, and when Villonia was twelve,
She got a yen for French and Greek and so decided to delve.
When her language teachers asked her
What she wanted to do,
Villonia taught those profs some things
The French and Greeks never knew.
She played the field with lots of guys but at age thirty-two
She thought to get herself a steady man was what she should do.
She tried out Toms, and Dicks, and Harrys,
And then settled, in due course,
For a handsome hunk named Homer
Whose nickname was "Horse".
They lived as wife and husband then for sixty-four years,
A life of trials and tribulations, lots of laughter, lots of tears.
Homer made and sold corn "likker"
From a still up in the hills,
And Vee would sometimes turn a trick or two
To help pay the bills.
The lovebirds made their minds up when they turned ninety-five
That they would live to be the oldest couple alive,
But time and sex and "likker"
Tend to play funny tricks,
Hunky Homer kicked the bucket
At a neat ninety-six.
Villonia is alone again like when she was three.
She's outlived most of her friends and family.
As she sits, and sips, and waits her turn,
One reflection seems to calm her,
When she's found she'll be so full of 'shine,
They won't bother to embalm her.
mel
...flows low waters still...
brooks
...in valley pastures...
spring waters
...to ponds and back...
have carried
...creations for ninety six years...
stans sand
Ode to my father
Who died long ago
I remember so many things
And forgotten many so
One thing I remember
Was his perseverence
When he had something to do
He did not quit until through it
He got up at four A.M.
This was not just on a whim
This was punctual everyday
You would not find his life astray
He arose to study "The Bible"
I am sure that he read it through
Many a scripture verse he knew
Philosophies and theories too
He had a sense of humor
He could make one laugh
I remember many stories
That he told about his past
When I remember him
I think about the day
Going to my Aunt's Funeral
This is what he did say
When we arrived at the cemetery
In the family car provided to us
A lady in thirties opened the door
To escort the elderly gentlemen up
Daddy at this time was ninety-six
Going on twenty-nine
Fell onto the ladies arm
And leaned in with all his charm
When she had him seated next to us
At the cementery space
My husband said to him
If you had three more steps to go
She would be carrying you
Instead of you supporting her
Daddy looked him in the eye
This what he said
Old rats like cheese
Just like young rats do
To this day I bubble
Up on the inside
When I think about him
As he turned
To look at us
With laughter on his face
COFFEE IN A CAFÉ CALLED CONTENTEDNESS
He’s content…….
Yet uniquely unrepentant
He’s content with his surroundings
Content to do that which he must…….
With trust
Content,
occasionally,
to do something he actually enjoys
With poise
I suppose ninety-six years tempers one’s desire and demand for delight……..
Ninety-six years is midnight……….
Come what might
He’s content to café a coffee
Or bear the man he sips and sits aside
Another soul he takes,
contentedly,
in stride
Ninety-six with dementia denied
Ninety-six with death defied
While his contentedness is dignified and defined
Ninety-six is ample time to become so well- refined
Long ago having cast off the mighty nine to five
Content solely to still be alive
While others may see half-past midnight as looming but a fortnight away
Come what may
I hear him say
“Please, may I have another cup of coffee”
A gent content with his beverage begotten
Fearing not,
nor too often……
His coffin
Ninety-six and my heart is warmed by an oven of admiration for a man so amiably content
With contentedness, by comfort, so long ago lent
A gent
A gentle gent who throws a breeze of ease into life’s midnight mix
Oh so very gentle at ninety-six
No more hide and go seek, no more marbles and no more pick-up sticks
So content………..
done taking his licks
……………at ninety-six
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