Best Onetime Poems
onetime-
I was just one child all alone
and I wrote one piece
a day of poetry
grandma said
take one day at a time
uniqueness singleness oneness
one place I loved
was the attic
I was the only one there
playing make-believe dreams
doing the one-step waltz with dolly
it was a one-sided conversation
and I said
dolly I for one disagree
the one person I want to marry
will come one sweet day
and it will be a unity of two
and then I would sing her a song
in a one long octave note monotonous
uniques
singleness
oneness
I liked to tell one line jokes for grandma in the kitchen
put on a one man show for mom and dad after supper
dad gave me a one dollar bill
for every poem I wrote
I still have the first one he said
be oneself
take one direction in life
and I grew up solitary
to write poems
each one is beautiful to me
I'll get a break one day
one never knows about tomorrows
I hold dear my belief in
uniqueness singleness oneness
then one sad day grandma passed away
I cried all alone in that attic
I'll see you again one day grandma
______________________
September 3, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/One
Copyright Protected, ID 15-705-869-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, One,
sponsor, Rob Carmack
Ninth Place
A mystery, you, a child of our times,
you write of love and loss with equal flair,
flitting through rhythms and flirting with rhymes,
even your free verse is lighter than air.
Tiptoeing lightly while sharing your muse,
scattering adverbs to brighten my day,
likely as not you will bring me good news,
sprinkling nouns in your own special way.
The moon will arise, the sun fall asleep,
the world will keep spinning, as is her due,
and you shall lie content in slumber deep,
your burdens put away, your worries few.
Awake refreshed with a song in your heart,
ready and able to practice your art.
*******
Dedicated to a onetime Souper, Annie Brittle
Angelic words she places in lines with care.
Never heard a discouraging word, she did share.
Deeper emotions she does write so clear.
Reality is her concern, realism so sincere.
Excitement sometimes rules her lines.
A woman of deep and emotional designs,
Deeply passionate about so many things in life,
I never met her though read her poetic rife.
Each time she visits others words she reads.
Telling others so sweetly she plants seeds,
Respectfully she instills poetic writings in another.
I saw onetime she felt like a sonnet unwritten.
Carefully I wrote this for her, an earth mother.
Having friendship in mind never was smitten.
I have a sort of gift that allows me to sense certain feelings about people without even meeting them....and usually my first intuition if you want to call it that is perfectly correct.
....no matter what it is about or who it is about I have to write it or my soul is clouded and pain grows within...Blessings..Cecil
The draw of the tide...
tugs away inside...
remembered rekindled emotion...
lived on the water ...
remember i ought...
Portugese, on the ocean..
cabin boy ..
on a 3 masted schooner...
we lived on salted pork...
the maggots they walked...
red meat went rotten the sooner..
In Timor it's said ..
we'd get fresh bread...
more chillies, beer by the jug..
first mate was casting the lead..
fathoms testing...
as into the harbour we lugged...
sailing round the Cape Horn ..
suicide borne..
over the side water torn..
ironic the twist
sinking forlorn....
no one there to mourn
drowning there did I exist... :)
where i went onetime....Don Johnson 17-may-11
As I stand before this old, dilapidated house,
A structure fast decaying and about to crumble,
With its walls painted grey and white,
And the plaster bearing cracks and marks,
Memories leap out,
From the moss-grown crevices of my mind,
Like snakes uncoiling, rather like bees swarming,
Fragmented, scented, and sour!
I remember my old maternal uncle,
Who had turned a widower at forty-one,
The presiding deity of a joint family of sixteen.
Most of the time he sprawled in the armchair,
In the enclosed patio of this big house.
In the living room was an old grandfather clock
Ticking away like the faint heartbeat
Of that decadent house with crumbling plaster
He had seen heydays with many ceremonies of great fanfare,
When the house used to board all kith and kin,
And the granary was full of paddy and tons of black gold
But as time slowly weakened his torso
The house too lost its onetime splendor.
His children got scattered far and wide.
They went to hoard fortunes abroad.
But grand uncle refused to move away.
One day he left the house orphaning it for ever.
Now the house is sadly left to total decay.
Its life gone, its soul frozen,
A fragment of an old memory.
Though once I thought I had escaped,
The compulsions of the past
Now I discern, I am still pinioned by it!
As I stand before this house, my ears perk up,
For the lovely sounds this house once produced
And pine for the love
That once so luxuriously bloomed around!
Life
This dance of death done in the fall!
The Sugar Maple bleeds,
ground tattooed with leaf imprints,
red and brown traces of a onetime life.
Nature at its height, a painter’s pallet.
Nature dying
striking, vibrant.
We are like a leaf.
We get one life to make radiantly bright.
So that our falling is
majestic.
10/20/2016
1. A dangerous vision coveting another,
blurred by envy to need a mental monocle.
she burns in such deadly blast
not to realize the soul already promulgate itself
to the better one.
Nothing can serve as a wake up call
to warn against the penalty point.
What was once a silent partner in thoughts
transform to wicked acts and a stench
not to be overlooked, wanting a friend to be less.
2. Sees up through her friend
both are fine, she wants to be finer
both are well, she wants to be better
a onetime dove becomes arrogantly disloyal
a part-time energy with flashlights
relevant to the downfall of another,
exhibiting abrupt vagaries,
playing billiards not even to win
but to break the board,
watching closely in a bad timing
to revert all positives with negatives.
3. In the flowing dam of our love,
you poured strong acids of your crude emotions.
you are the one downgrading your worth to a bric-a-brac
your unexplained anger proves the more
that I’m by far better.
On this affliction, you stay rat-arsed,
giving jealousy so much importance
to be obsequious to it.
Time to be matey with the envied has passed,
let this dark heat continue fighting
for the devil may care.
Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,
this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time
emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train
while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie
tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and
leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century
tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly
analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,
worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor
revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven
soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath
to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy
of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
All income is lower than any bill
poverty swells, about to exhibit
to all options the mind would have to drill
fat growing needs already prohibit
the spouse and the children all will survive
whips from the family from unknown foe
yet stay intact and thankfully alive
but reduced in value to share a dough
a onetime agent of life so so kind
wealth and health in this mansion they wed
with needs and wants facing a quick grind
and a great lifestyle in a gown so red
a mass travel from all to create this mourn
what waits of these to pat the back is none.
Together Forever?
Some words they scar
Which last forever
I know you fail to recall
But I still remember
You go ahead
And say you are overwhelmed
That
We are back together
But one things for certain
I still remember
You left a big scar
And
It will last forever
It will never feel the same
Though it’s all cleared out
I will still just remember
We were once together
Nor scar, nor confused
As light as a feather
But that all changed
And we will never be as near
As once we were together
You will certainly not know what I have enclosed
In my heart
Where it will stay forever
A blizzard so wild
Which I can let out whenever
To terminate you’re ahead
The route you took
You could’ve rehabilitated
Weren’t you the chooser?
Then why did you go
A single sentence wrecked us forever
But can we still try
To be what us onetime were together
Forever?
A wilted rose still has her thorns,
a ruined home still has its stones.
A mirthless Queen still has her throne,
a sleeping bloom will one day grow.
A fallen star still keeps all hopes,
a frozen stream on spring will flow.
A tired wolf soon more will howl,
a onetime champ will be aye known.
This, a mountian.
Were plates shift.
A pules, Thermal in
Dynamic.
Rock, so dead-deep
in earth, past soil
Black rich into magma.
From waterfall edgy cliffs.
To Ice-glass , unforgivable shears.
This heat, blasts peaks.
I will strike down, onetime.
Hurtful climers, barbarous shoes.
Decide to clime? Decide to spirit dye.
Blowhard I, With vulture eyes
Scanning cycles, seeing carnage.
Hikers distract me, distracting.
I'm wishing to be that "Argos" Range.
My stone gray easy, unstable.
Silent frost of "loneblame" sumite.
The "sizeofmycrap" reads 66.6 oh and a 9.
To fools who cling on, Ignorent love,
I speak of "avalanche", cover you all,
In silent cold-thick,.
From foothills, I can see Tibet,
Save it for me.
Form:
For soap, he had headed to store,
With Hope, to wash away his yore.
A little bleep was all he needs,
He took hot tea to soothe his sore.
Potter's hands were rebuff, he heeds,
From dealing with such rough clay beads.
He chose to dismiss their skilled palm,
He'd had much of the pain and seeds.
He was the one with the alarm,
Onetime cold and then by love, warm.
Life is held in with tangled thread,
He pull and shook till overwhelm.
Wisdom couldn't follow the pot core,
With fate and death, tied to his cord.
Written: May 09, 2022
How do you measure success in your life
Do you track what you give to the poor?
Do you monitor what others do with your gifts
Or just let them walk out of the door?
How do you judge if you really have friends?
Have they all learned to give not just take.
Tell me when was the last time they called on the phone
Or was your number dialed by mistake?
What are the signs that you care about you?
Have you set aside rainy day stash?
Can you foresee a day that you’ll be out of debt,
Do you dream still of making a splash?
What would you say your integrity’s worth?
Is there anything you hold more dear?
And just what is the road you have chosen to walk
Being strong or to master your fear?
How goes your personal battle with pride?
Is it easy to fall on your knees?
Are you really the servant God wants you to be,
And just who are you trying to please?
Now let’s pretend it’s your last day on earth
Do you still need to work on your list?
And do you want to spend your time running around
Or relax with some wine and be kissed?
Knowing this life is a onetime affair
It behooves us to give it some thought
It’s a kindness that we were created at all
But our shame if it winds up for naught.
Brian Johnston
February 25, 2016
Healing
Could it be possible for love to heal the troubled, the wounded?
All those damaged souls, who’s ghosts haunt their every hour!
Could love bring them back from the brink of emotional extinction?
Give them back some of the innocence they, at onetime, knew?
When one thinks of the genocide of our First Nations People,
Think of the genocide of their spirit, those remaining souls.
Could it be possible for love to heal the troubled, the wounded?
All those damaged souls, who’s ghosts haunt their every hour!
When one thinks of the genocide of a child’s psyche, hers or his.
One has to wonder what part love plays in this destructive game
man plays as he molests, sexually abuses, emotionally, mentally,
verbally strips naked, to the very marrow, the essence of a child?
of Nations, of the first Peoples residing upon this little blue planet,
past, present and future. Will love give them a glimpse of a future?
B. J. “A ” 2
May 9th 2017