Best Out Poems
Falling down into
a dense, tangled mood
darker than the skies
at the midnight hour...
Leaving me caught
in infinite space
by hands on the clock
that grasp me and pull
to where the time goes...
Out of the blue
water washes the stagnant clouds
drop by clear drop
and the persistent wind
brushes them white again.
All the while, specks of light
appear to shine...
Hues mixing as pastels swirl
with shades much deeper,
diluting them down until
the blues begin to fade away...
Thoughts are suspended
for the moment,
only to float in midair
finally free
and out of the blue.
I’ve decided to be rid of some things:
a moth-holed sequined dress with bitter tags,
the weeping journal of ennui and pain,
the mocking trophy case of trophied dust,
proud calligraphed to-do lists left unchecked.
Let them shout accusations from the curb!
February 20, 2019
Extreme Sunset
Brimstones past the clouds
Highlight against the ocean line
Beautiful sunset, warm texture
Warning, the rooster's asleep!
Glorious yellow and orange mixture
My source of great inspiration
Unmatch - beauty mark In the sky
The horizon is ready for nightfall
~*~
I used to like barbells, enjoyed pumping iron,
my Nautilus* gym was one happy environ.
Those posters of 6-packs and marbled biceps
inspired me to start counting carbs, pounds, and reps.
My trainer would coax, "hold as long as you can!"
Doing deadlifts I felt like a WAS a dead man
The kettlebell, medicine ball - hated those,
since dropping 'em both on my poor little toes.
My dad-bod and willpower soon parted ways,
after only 1 set, I was shell-shocked for days
My back hurt, my knees ached, I'd injured my hips,
after grimacing nonstop, I'd sprained both my lips.
Oy! The sharp pain that shoots
through my quads, delts and glutes...
Now my game plan is shifting
no more power lifting.
To planks, it's "no thanks",
I'm expunging all lunging.
I feel stabs in my abs,
there's a hex on my pecs
and my lats shriek like bats.
When I tweak my oblique
I am sore to the core...
and I want it no more.
The rowing machine is no longer my scene
I loathe those squats lots and I hate crunches bunches.
Do sit-ups or push-ups? Do jump-ups or chin-ups?
I'm more inclined now to do lots of "I-give-ups".
My doc tried convincing me I'd be less tired?
I'm questioning how that poor man's brain is wired!
I felt half exhausted just WATCHING staff clean
the ellipticals, treadmills, and stair-climb machine.
Then... I found when I stood on the locker room scale
That my plan to lose weight was a sad epic fail!
I'm done! I have finished my very last burpee -
I just want a hot dog and super-size Slurpee.
What happened to wanting to feel fit and well?
When it came to workouts, I was just a dumbbell.
I've resolved now to walk more, or swim a few laps
maybe jog, ride my bike, play some tennis, take naps.
That's right, getting plenty of rest seems so plain,
it appears the most challenging muscle to train ...
is the brain.
* Nautilus is a brand of gym equipment
written 2 Oct 2022
Twas the night before christmas
and Christ was left out,
with no peep of the Good News,
no mountainous shout.
Stockings were hung
by the chimney the same,
but no one made mention
of the Savior's name.
On this sacred night
there were still shopping plans.
Their heart was poured out
through money changers' hands.
'Twas the hustle and bustle
of past Christmas Eves.
Once deemed a holy night,
now a den of thieves.*
Folks went into debt
for the pleasure to give,
not counting the cross
and what it cost to forgive.
Presents were plenty.
Wish lists were fulfilled,
but they didn't thank God
for the blood that was spilled.
An "X" had replaced
the unspeakable name.
Christmas without Christ
was now one and the same.
'Twas the night before Christmas
and Christ was left out.
The townsfolk had forgotten
what Christmas was about.
Merry Christmas to all; let Christ become your light.
*Matthew 21:12-13
And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, And said unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves."
12-2-19
This morning
I sifted through years of memories
that ran like sand
through my hands.
A few pieces remained behind;
carefully
I put them away.
Afterwards
I sat for a long time
and listened to the rain on the roof.
Through your window,
I could see bare treetops
and a grey sky.
4/1/2018
Out in the desert, late at night
The stars and moon are shining bright
The coyotes sing,
While crickets keep beat
Cool night's joy, replaces heat
The owl sets out on nightly quest
"Who, whoo's my meal?"
ever his jest
The man in the moon
witnessed escapes
Wild dashes
for thorn bush drapes
The merry stars
with twinkling eyes
Laughed at the hoot owl's
great surprise
Kangaroo rat leaps in delight
Out in the desert late at night
Salmon skies rise in the peripheral east
Steely clouds linger then slowly dissipate
Nightfall wanes, as the wide blue canvas brightens
Light lifts the mood, on a summer’s day we’ll feast
In afternoon’s heated blanket we’re caressed
Umbrella blooms shade, mint perfume they release
Skin tones burn colors from an artist’s palette,
an array of browns from bronze to tawny yeast
As mountain trails call, when monarchs migrate
As the wide blue canvas brightens, nightfall wanes
Steppin' out to engage the dusty trail beast
There he sat among the ashes, thinking he was, oh, so good,
Just a tiny glowing ember that was once a piece of wood,
And he thought that he was better than the embers there that day,
But, alas, he didn't know that soon his pride would turn him gray.
There were many other embers that were crowding out his space,
They were vying for attention and were trying to keep the pace,
He believed they were a nuisance and he felt they were a pain,
And he knew that they were jealous, and it rubbed against his grain.
"I'm an ember in the ashes and I'm burning hot inside,
I've a reason to be boastful and to feel such awesome pride,
For the others here beside me are just living off my heat,
I'm the one who is important; in myself I am complete."
So he sparkled and he crackled and he told them all to move,
For he thought he didn't need them and he had a thing to prove,
So they rolled into the centre and they left him on the side,
And his glowing heart got bigger and it filled him up with pride.
Very soon he seemed to notice such a change inside of him,
For his glowing heart grew weaker and his light was getting dim,
But the others who had left him were still glowing bright and strong,
What had happened to this ember; could it be that he was wrong?
"I'm an ember in the ashes, but I'm feeling very weak,
I once thought I had a future, but it's looking rather bleak,
And the ones who I rejected are still glowing hot and bright,
Now I think I was mistaken and that they were truly right."
Now the tiny little ember, all alone and getting cold,
Sits among the lowly ashes and is feeling not so bold,
And the pride that once he harboured, that would make him spark and flash,
Has betrayed him in this moment and has turned him into ash.
--submitted to Be Didactic poetry contest - May 07, 2017
If there should be a pot hole as deep as Satan’s pit
appearing as I’m driving, I’d run right over it!
My husband’s luck is worse than mine, but we’re a package deal.
So every bad thing that befalls him, I can also feel!
One day I lost my best cat ever; needing a new pet,
I looked and looked to find a cat, the best that I could get.
One person getting desperate with no new owner found
was feeling sad he’d have to take his poor cat to the pound.
His cat , though not a lap cat, was pretty, sleek and black.
The guy was leaving town; there’d be no way to give her back!
I like to look to numbers for the logic that they show.
Two negatives makes positive; that’s one true fact I know!
So if a person has bad luck, it stands to reason that
perhaps his bad luck could reverse by having a black cat!!
I got that cat! She loudly purrs, which I find comforting
It’s like my mom is right nearby with lullabies to sing.
The cat’s my charm when in my arms; my luck has turned around,
for she’s become the second best of cats I ever found!
So if with many problems you’re always getting stuck,
just get yourself a big black cat to cancel out bad luck!
For the Create an Idiom Contest of Jesse Day
(For those who don't know about this contest, the title is an idiom I made up for this poem)
I gather up each word, each thrown away,
putting my poetry back together;
words "thrown" to wither and decay,
this garbage- I love forever.
My poems called worthless,
my poems so breathless;
poems never- wordless,
making a gem out of garbage;
is my endeavor.
My pen will bleed with my dark surrender,
writing my poems like a rose bouquet;
praying this sad pain will leave someday,
I gather up each word, each thrown away;
and weep- making a gem out of garbage.
______________________
July 25, 2016
Poetry/Rhyme/"Making A Gem Our Of Garbage
Copyright Protected, ID 16-811-416-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Create An Idiom
sponsor, Jessie Day
First Place
Slammed out Bam
For a moment I will fantasize
Lead him on a trip
Make him realize
this is more than a strip
boy you got to recognize
you have to get a grip
We play a game of spin the bottle
With you my guts slowly drip
Kiss me I (ain't) your average model
over the edge I rip
Look who's playing the sensitive
Take me in your arms
Fold me like a blanket
Kiss me you fool
Spread me like a blanket
Stop teasing, no need to be pleasing
You got it all wrong
turn down that song
Suddenly your taking your time
Are you okay, are you fine
All the motions are sinking in deep
I can feel it
A bowel movement traveling all up inside
Violently pushing "get out of my way!!"
to many butterflies, what can I say
you took to long
Now it feels wrong
Just shake it off
I want my dignity back
I've tighten my muscles
forget about the snack
To late, it already died
Tomorrow neighbor a game of truth or dare
We can enjoy a second ride
Do not come with directions or affections
Or you'll get another rejection
A cold shower my friend
It's time for me to go back to my husband.
S.K.A.T. POETRY
P.S. NOT REAL, IMAGINATION,, IRMA
Stayed in the sun too long today.
My skin became like the bark of a tree.
The soul was turning to brittle scars
for uncaring worlds to see.
My face is a pile of old owl bones.
Sewn into banks of midnight creeks.
Even the plain and plump ones no longer look at me...
If their tires were flat, or their oil grim reaper black.
they'd manage a water-colored smile...
So long as I could change their brakes and spin the jack...
So, I spin it until their potholes turn to satin.
Stayed in the sun too long today.
The mind has smoothed like pebbles in Saturn's rings.
A forgotten spice in the conversation of life.
A Sunday bell that's lost its holy ring.
Tomorrow I'll stay wrapped tight inside.
Until my skin turns back to ivory.
To an easter egg yesterday.
A time of bouncing ball and spinning jacks.
When the mind was a great silky nest.
When the face was a flowered meadow place.
Where watercolors swirled all day,
Every heartworm kept at bay.
Like a hungry muskie, I'll stay hidden within the weeds,
'till the jewels of memories soothe every scar and every stripe.
Till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
Until then, only my curtains will breathe...
...stayed in the sun
to long
today.
Take Out the Landry
Dirty laundry for years on the floor
finally the dirt is out the door
Quebec is cleaning house
separatists being laid to graves
like Napoleonic mouse's
bury their rhetoric too
twelve feet deep
Wrinkled ex leader with
no musket or balls
no lead, leaderless
man of poisoned dreams
nationalist and king of hate
trumpets play for his distaste
if your wool is not pure
you do not belong on his shore
Villain as Lucifer or Lucien
robbing the people of their future
all for his midget delusions
now to be inhumed
in his own dirt
he will of course blame
the Chinese laundry mat
who lost his ticket
He is not to be interred
in red rags
honor will shed not one tear
where is his Nazi flag?
Boxed at Notre Dame
the church like Vichy
honors dictators and their clan
funerals they all say nice things
still
they toss out the laundry
as Canada sings
Only Toronto thanks him
for the prosperity
Veterans Day Out..
"To all of us from America, and beyond.
We hold a connection that will forever bond.
The reflection Of Veterans Day,
We'll march with gratitude on this one certain Holiday.
Prayers and thanks will be filled with solemn pride.
To the heroism of those who died.
We'll praise and honor every name and memory~
To all the men and women who fought throughout history.
In celebration we honor America's veterans for their patriotism, of willingness.
For the love of our country, they served and sacrificed with their best service."
Victory ~History~ A singed Treaty~ 11-11-1918
Mends to an end of “the war to end all wars.” Welcoming 11-11-11
Dedicated to Veterans throughout the world and History...
In Honor and memory of all Veterans...
by;p.d.