Best Off One Poems
Like a knockout blow
In the final round
The challenges comes
All at once
How you cope will depend on how you see them
It's not always black and white
Pastel shades
Are all abound
You can get through this
Even if you have to tick
Them off one by one
Not everything
Needs to be resolved today
Deal with what you can
Lighter they will become
They say "Rome wasn't build in a day"
Neither was your character
It might look flawed to you
But in you might be
That single trait your foe wish they had
Test your resilience
And surprise yourself
You might see what I see
One day, hopefully some day
©220920151226
Your wings aren't broken,
just bruised and singed.
From holding them too tightly
against the burning breast of indifference.
Battling storm, surf, sweet siren songs
blood fish praying for your falter...
but you fought them off one by one.
Atop the waves
you've seen many beautiful things...
that little patch of green dancing on the sea.
Where you landed ever so briefly.
Salted eyes tended by birds of paradise.
They sent you off with satchel ...
filled with shell and song.
Each offered a feather to blunt the alone.
Remember that smiling dolphin
the one with mirrors in the eyes
offering silver shoal and golden heart
to rest your weary soul and mind.
Then you sang a duet with him
a nearly perfect -pearly blend
of sweet chirps and minty clicks.
You almost stayed but fliers are not of the sea,
swimmers are not of the sky...
so, you just drifted by... on by.
Here you are today
perched upon a graveyard fence.
Huddled in a nest of pure blackness,
Isn't it time to unfurl those wings again.
Soar onto the next journey...
Wear the colors of paradise
offer a shell to the surf
to quell the forever hurt.
Another dolphin awaits you
this one has rainbows in the eyes
and the divine gift of gilded flight.
I know a scamp who chortles frabjously
as in the springtime galumphing he goes.
And just to show how wacky he can be,
he makes his tongue point up to touch his nose!
He has no wicked claws or eyes with flame
to match those of the manxome Jabberwock.
But just beware his jaws. Although he’s tame,
he can’t be stopped once he begins to talk!
I vouch that he can jabber endlessly
and have me at the end of my short rope.
My ears just might fall off one day, for he
gyres gibberish just like a gyroscope.
I dub my beamish grandson “Jabberwack”
for how he acts and how he loves to yak!
For Debbie Guzzi's "Go Ask Alice" Contest
It was nineteen ninety nine
a battle was about to begin
between the Indian Army
with the soldiers from Pakistan
My name is Yogendra Singh Yadav
a grenadier awarded the Param Vr Chakra
the highest honour for gallantry
this is how the fight begun
A stone loosened and fell as we climbed that hill
after three nights of carefully silently climbing
the Pakistan soldiers opened fire
from bunkers metres above us not a good thing
Neither up or down we could go
heavy firing caused eighteen officers and men
to retreat leaving just seven jawans
with one hundred and thirty five men above us then
We fired at the nearest bunker killing the men
the Pakistani army came to assess our strength with ten men
managed to kill eight but two of them escaped able
to report back now we were in a predicament
I carried twenty five kilo of ammunitions
the battle was fierce, we killed thirty five of them,
my six soldiers were killed also,
I was alone, lying amongst the corpses
They shot at the corpses making sure all were dead
I received fifteen gunshot injuries and my gun was taken
had grenade in my pocket, i pulled the ring and threw
landed in cap of one of the soldiers, exploded,he was on his way to heaven
They thought the indian army had returned
I picked up a Peeka rifle off one of the Pakistani soldiers
killing five soldiers, heard the voice saying retreat
to attack a MMG base further down the hill
I dumped myself in a drain, in no time was at base
saw the officer Lt.Balwan advised Pakistan army was on its way
Charlie and Delta was deployed to help Bravo Company
This resulted in the hill being taken by the Indian Army
This war took seven hours, and Tiger Hill was safe
I have been given a plot of land by the Utah Pradesh Government for my part in the battle.
Reference I used
Targil Battle - Tiger Hill (I put that name into search engine). Seven hour battle that won Tiger Hill.
Penned 4 April 2015
O dried up leaf lying there on the ground
Fallen from the top of a sturdy tree
Where you viewed everything that was around
While you bathed in the sunshine's glory
You manufactured food from the sunlight
And together with the help of the roots
Faithfully nourished your parent just right
Creating a sturdy tree bearing fruits
In spring and summer you wore brilliant green
And supplied shade to others from the sun
In autumn you became more colourful
and before winter dropped off one by one
Even now as you lay there on the dirt
Nature must move on in its cyclic line
You shall soon become a part of the earth
And become food for others of your kind
iambic pentameter
There are those who improvise within a structure,
with four beats to the bar like down home blues,
melodies and harmonies which stay within the fold,
embellishing the tune how e'er they choose.
Then there are cats who improvise to their own drummer,
inventing sheets of sound no ear has heard,
who bounce off one another, and break off from the norm,
Sun Ra's Arkestra, Sonny Stitt and Bird.
They wrote a new agenda, redistributing the forms,
inventing broader schemes of interplay,
as Jazz became a melting pot of signatures and styles,
through Ragtime, Big Band, Bop, until today.
America's indigenous art form,
born here, appreciated everywhere,
we are proud of all these marvelous musicians
who bring joy and recognition for us all to share.
********
...to Miles Davis in particular, R.I.P.
We are all essentially African. That's where humanity first took birth.
Some then left Africa to populate every land mass on planet earth.
Those of us who remained in equatorial Africa kept our very dark protective skin.
It served as a natural sun block,
preventing harmful ultra violet rays from contaminating our bodies from within.
As we migrated closer to the poles we began to slowly depigmentize.
It was an evolutionary trade off, one might call evolutionarily wise.
The rays of the sun when closer to the poles
are not as harsh as in sub tropical Africa and the pole's climate is cold.
Where as in Africa we walked naked with our protective dark skin,
The poles were colder. We wore clothing over our slowly depigmentizing skin.
Depigmentizing all the quicker because of very little exposure to the sun at all.
Because we differ in skin color doesn't mean anything good or bad at all.
We were and still are all the same human specie, unlike our cousins, the extinct Neanderthal.
We are all *****sapiens. We are all the one and only Human Race.
In a nutshell, that says it all.
To All Hate Groups Out There and hate individuals too.
Be forewarned. Be aware. Your over due extinction is about to come true.
I speak for all with knowledge who have truly evolved too,
"We All Welcome The Extinction Of All The Ignorance Created By All Of You."
You should all welcome it too, so that all of you can truly, for the common good,
intellectually evolve too.
when the coolness of spring
begins to fade,
in the wake of rising heat
in early April in north Indian plains,
and the golden wheat crops
shimmer in glade,
flowers of different hues
begin to lose their bright sharp sheen.
the dry, pale yellow and brown
dead leaves of most trees,
shed themselves off one by one
exposing the bare branches,
ahoy!! soon thereafter
the nature’s miracle can be witnessed,
if one looks at the bare dry branches
a bit more closely.
suddenly they seem to be covered
with growing tender green leaf-shoots ‘n buds,
and slowly begin to swing
in the gentle breeze like coy maidens,
taking cover behind each other
they nervously glance around to check,
they have not been seen naked
in their act of changing their attire
by any stranger.
when the flower-laden branches
of mango and other fruit trees
gently dance in the air,
to sweet notes of the cuckoo’s song
attracting butterflies ‘n insects
to their flowers,
and what a surprise to see
not so long after
the sudden evolution of flowers
into small unripe green fruits,
which promise to become
sweet ‘n juicy
in the growing heat of
the engulfing summer.
the morning cool and gentle breeze
rapidly starts to convert itself into,
a hot, biting, dry, strong westerly wind
as the sun simmers
agonizingly close ‘n longer,
everyone gets nature’s signal
to search for shade and cool greens
for solace, before the heat saps up
whatever energy is left in the living beings.
27.5.2014
Not in tea leaves, in shoelaces tie existence--their harsh and meshing material
bound, tethered, undone with a gentle pull.
The bunny ears
and clumsy fingers bouncing along the faux-marble
hallways: the future politicians and CEO's and poets
wiping caked mucus on the white-washed brick foundations--
babbling babbling babbling babbling.
A blood-stone bed surge of tidal maturation,
soon to be lost in the variant eddies of life;
the finger-painted puzzle-box open and unsolvable.
Their parents, for they are honorable, as
picket-fences are honorable, as
tracksuits are honorable, as
Zoloft is honorable, sit ajar
on school streets of vibrant myriad cars quietly dilapidating
behind Armor-All dashes. Old ladies waving dutifully
at lifeless lawn ornaments like lifeless lawn ornaments soon themselves in front of homes because
the youth only want something old when it's time to marry,
Googling what the heart feels for the occasion.
Smokestack color windows of depreciating souls searching drunken
down the glossy oak
bar through bent light of whiskey glasses and broken values
they blame on Nietzsche and the price of condoms,
finding a sad reflection seated at this world's dampened end to spread
like ashen snow
again and again and again on sweat-stained futons,
after the lurch toward the water, sloppy with kisses
and lace.
Church bells sound off one and two
O! clock tower
marching Heaven to Hell but got lost in Devil's Lake. They do not hear
the beaten shopping cart radio wobbling like a tripodal Dog,
telling us Jesus stayed inside because White is translucent in the rain.
But,
the wander-footed waywards, leaden eyed, tranced in droning hums of small town streetlights--
or red red copper hangers
or lucid jaundice confessions
or gangrenous light-slivered closets--
break half-empty
beer bottles on familial-faced slogans plastered to an under-bellied bridge and sway
like ebbing wind on the unsure-step shore banks, drooping wasp legs
over the ever-rising precipice
to vein-rush Hellgrammite powder
with their one remaining shoelace
and leave their shoes behind.
Quote By Poet "The pretty rose has thorns to keep her safe."
My life starts as a lovely rose bud,
I come in many beautiful colors.
Red roses tell a story of love and romance,
while white roses show herself as innocent and pure.
My buds will open up to show my face,
a face of beauty and pain for some.
Memories from the past roses,
they hurt as if from today.
While my thorns are to protect me,
will they protect you?
Remember when you took my petals off one by one,
making a wish on each petal?
Some came true,
some hurt you through and through.
My soft petals with perfume,
were not meant to hurt but they do.
The museum closed for ever,
and I was there
when they turned off the lights
They were turned off one by one...
At first the boardroom's
where Jacqui cried, I think
then the conference room
where they dismantled
all the plugs
then the rooms on all the floors,
and I could not stand it -
the long drawn-out goodbye
12/25/2015
You were a bright, yellow daisy
in the garden of life, so cheerful
kind and accommodating.
I basked in the sunlight of
your tender care and attention
my own flower bloomed and thrived.
Our roots ran deep and grew strong
in the rich soil of our lives
together, you and I, our vines intertwined
but in time...in time, our seasons turned
from spring to winter, and I began to die.
For I was poisoned, slowly, subtly
dying without knowing it, dying on the vine
strangling with the weeds, suffocating
the colors of my petals were draining away.
I gave and I gave, with little return
we shared confidences, vacations
food and family, yet you became jealous
and turned away, unsatisfied, turned
to other flowers, lied and betrayed me
my petals were plucked off, one by one.
How naive was I! You knew what you were doing
you knew, and you took and you took
you used and abused my kindness
and sucked the life out of me.
Your fake flower kept shining, while my
own flower wilted on the vine.
I have faded away, a jumbled mass
of jaded leaves and petals
rotting into the ground, crushed.
I may never open up my flower again.
Written on 5/5/2018
Glistening bayonets, buried deep in the sand,
while atop the helmet crowns their lives;
They died alone on this foreign dirt,
while back home a mother cries.
Bloody Dog Tags and a folded flag,
awarded to parents torn in two;
Tears crash down on the coffin door,
as a father cries, "I'm so very proud of you".
For God and country and liberty,
so their children can live in peace;
For brothers in arms fighting along side them,
no greater love hath these.
So cherish your children while you can,
and pray for them on your knees;
For they too may travel off one day,
To die for you and me...
On Wells Street in Chicago, is a sweet comedic treat.
Second City Theater for laughs and where many found their beginnings on plain stage, their life's heartbeat.
No "Phantom of the Opera" no lines, no costumes, no staging.
All actors had to do was improvise.No heavy make-up, yet one in an
instant learn how to disguise.
As in jazz, whether Brubeck or Davis, we all played off one another.
No fixed lines like Henny or famous the Smothers Brothers.
I never understood this magic of improvisation,
But once I learned it, what a phenomenal source of excitation.
This was a true gift how to act in the now.
It has served me in relationships, as I can't be a fake no how!
The censor that dances in your head keeps you from being free,
as if your head is stuck in a tree.
Most get stuck inside their heads, improvisation sets you free.
~Biography~
Poetess is Graduate of the famed Second City.
Was on stage for their Childrens Theater Troupe every Saturday for two years.
After that, moved on to be a stand up comedienne.I was trained by Tom Dreesen and Tim Reid("WKRP in Cincinnati."
I worked clubs in Chicago. Later in San Francisco, at Holy City Zoo. **Women comedians in the 1970's were not to be gross as they are now.
Tim and Tom were the only black and white comedy act ever. No grossness was ever displayed...best experience of my life!
Dedicated to Tom Dreesen and Tim Reid. Tom went on to be the opening act for Frank Sinatra and helped in the HBO movie on Frank. Also, launched The Comedy Store in Los Angeles. Both humble men....and friends,
Not us they said. You cannot make us shelter in!
Memorial Day they ran to the beaches for fun.
We do not buy into your story, Dr. Fin.
Covid 19 now killing them off one by one.