Best Out Front Poems
With pitchforks and torches they rode through the night,
their goal was Milton Creek, by dawns early light.
A surprise attack was what they had foreseen,
led by the infamous, lollipop queen.
With a group of ringed men, she’d deceived and collected,
they rode for the jail, for the first one she’d infected.
In shackles and chains, her best awaited his trial,
I can’t say his name, so we’ll just call him Kyle.
Old Kyle was arraigned for a snake oil ruse,
he claimed to sell medicine but was just peddling booze.
They stopped just out of town by farmer Bill’s pig pen,
where they all shared a lollipop, and a *Cornish game hen*.
Rested and fed, they all headed for town,
their plan was to free Kyle and turn his frown upside down.
There were many new graves that we helped Mayor Tom to dig,
we could smell them all coming, they were pungent like a pig.
Little did they know how Milton Creek was protected,
we watched each other’s back, and our defense was perfected.
David and Terry, were perched on the roof of the jail,
I stood right out front with my leaded cocktail.
Tania and Jan were on the top of the saloon,
Milton was keeping watch, as he played a catchy tune.
Deb was on the ground, locked and loaded,
Lin had Jenna’s Winchester and some dynamite to be exploded.
*a Cornish game hen is produced from a cross between the Cornish and white Plymouth rock chicken breeds, it is served young and immature weighing no more than two pounds*
I've constructed a picket fence around me to keep jackanapes out
Through pickets they can see me, but I never allow them to touch
private parts of me I keep concealed, and don't talk about so much
I keep whitewashing my fence, cleansing it from things left in doubt
When my boards become exposed to prying eyes that shouldn't see
I open another bucket of watered-down paint and reach for a brush
to cover the flaws, my faults within, and I am always in such a rush
to whiten and brighten the facade out front. The veneer veiling me.
There is a gate with well-worn hinges, but usually it's kept locked
to prevent invaders who would dare trespass on my every thought
Those who'd despoil my fence with graffiti and rip my boards apart
Hence, one reason why I keep a supply of whitewash well-stocked
I am the prismed reflection of my surroundings, including my fence
where no webs shall arachnids weave within my weathered boards.
I will apply a coat of whitewash to my palisade as the need affords
It is a beachhead between me and crawlers; my penury of defense
Twining around my picketed railings, grows a vine of climbing roses
The virtuous blooms are never cut to prolong each inculpable stem
They shroud malevolent fingers pointed at me that would condemn
I shrive every foible and failing that my whitewashed fence encloses
May 28, 2023
W T F Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Put on his red bathers you're joking
Too tight something out front it was poking
found another old pair
to cover up pubic hair
He's now off to the ocean for soaking
Now he's looking quite bronze and quite fancy
Ready to meet his girlfriend who's called Nancy
on the sand they will walk
hold hands while they talk
One day she might be his fiancee
Find a spot that's private and shady
to skinny dip with his beautiful lady
several others have come
they see his lily white bum
His girl's given surname it's O'grady
From ocean water body's cool, appetisingly salty
Sun burnt skin's feeling sore and quite faulty
He wants to bonk on the shore
She says no that's for sure
He says your excuse is unloving and paltry
His ex girlfriends name was Cecelia
Too often he wanted to feel her
with legs very bandy
he was often so randy
In the sun in in the hay made love to this sheila
Now this oversexed man so begotten
So naughty they smacked his big bottom
but he wasn't deterred
still did what he preferred
Loved underwear made out of soft cotton
Now it's summer he's feeling quite warm
Many old tricks he does often perform
out in his work shed
there's a double sized bed
Where they shed all the clothes that are worn
It's now time for a warm summer party
Can attend it's casual not arty farty
still daylight at nine
have a whopping good time
Good conversation and laughter that's hearty
Free at Last
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• He thinks back to a time, when he was so young.
M-16 on his shoulder, around his neck dog tags hung
Dense jungles made thin, by what they had sprayed.
His mind drifts to home, and the places he played.
He thought he was melting, in heat so intense.
His skin bubbled and scorched, did this war make sense?
C-rations his food, his appetite gone.
Becoming so thin, but he had to stay strong!
Numb now to fear, the battle raged on.
Back home they were screaming,"Get out of the Nam"
Hendrix and Dylan, The Stones and The Doors.
His music of choice, during his tours.
Snakes in rice paddy's,snakes in the trees.
Mosquitos so thick, filled with disease.
Rats in bunkers, searching for scraps.
45 automatics, the better rat traps.
Sleeping in shifts, in holes dug chest high.
Claymores out front, M-60's close by.
Shrapnel flying, from rocket attacks.
Diving for cover, no time to relax.
Sneaky little enemy, they called them VC.
Living in tunnels, so hard to see.
Dressed in black, like everyone there.
They were all over, just didn't know where.
Home from it all, he no longer fit in.
So he stayed in a stuper as war raged within.
Three decades of anguish, then came that day.
He was finally rescued, and shown a new way.
A Savior from heaven said give me your pain, give me your sin, let none remain.
I love you, you see, you've suffered too long.
Get under my wing, with me you belong.
His chains were then broken and he was set free.
Free from his sin and PTSD
Joy fills his heart, where once was just pain.
His love for The Lord, he can not contain.
Thank You Jesus
Dale M Totten
The bright Christmas lights on my city house are so colorful and traditional,
hopefully when I get my high utility bill I won't become too irrational,
and watching everyone open up their gifts makes me want to sigh,
also hoping that when I get the credit card bills I won't start to cry,
And the Christmas room has edible fumes of the eating variety kind,
with the holiday weight I gain ending up in my butt and thighs,
while getting a white Christmas is something I always wished for,
but not slipping on the slippery steps when walking out the front door,
A different group of Christmas carolers singing out front in my yard,
all of them sounding very off key like a cat getting strangled,
and not having money to give them gave them some pie I baked,
most of them getting sick from it Betty Crocker I aint,
Going Christmas shopping and getting stuck in the holiday traffic,
and trying to find a parking spot at the mall was really quite baffling,
having to sit there and wait till I saw a shopper getting ready to leave,
another car beat me to the spot while I sat there and sneezed,
So I decided to move far away from the hustle and the bustle,
wheres all I have to worry about is what is that woodland noisy rustle,
could be a black bear, coyote, wolf or a moose,
and when I get my mail every day have to run so they don't bite my big caboose,
But thats ok I'm starting to feel at home for the holidays in the hills,
getting used to the 8 foot snow drifts and the night time animal shrills,
while getting into my vehicle can be quite an ordeal,
running like a fugitive till I get inside of it in my camouflage gear,
But I have a plan B just in case living in the hills doesn't all work out,
I'll just move to Florida where the humidity and big bugs will bother me no doubt,
where I'll buy my own little house hopefully sinkhole free and keep it fumigated,
and pretend to have a white Christmas even though its 85 degrees out while getting chased by an alligator.
Happy Holidays Everyone!
12-24-16
The picnic was set for today:
A cause for two hips and hooray.
With Split and Blueberry,
Their time would be merry
That’s if nothing got in their way…
The deviled eggs had to come first,
‘Cause a picnic without them’s the worst.
They proceeded to beg
The hens for some eggs,
And boiled them when they were submersed.
But when Bat and Gat started to pack,
Their picnic plans went off the tracks.
It was almost Bat’s fault,
Since the pepper and salt
Hadn’t made it yet into the sack.
The only thing they had to do
Was to pick up their friends Split and Blue.
With a rabbit and goat,
And their deviled egg tote,
They could hike to the overlook view.
Well, the eggs made a pretty nice spread
When added to Split’s honey bread.
But, sitting down eating,
An unwelcome greeting
Then filled them with terror and dread.
’Twas the sound of a huge rattlesnake;
What a racket that rattle did make!
Though none could find him
Out front or behind them,
Poor Blue and Split started to shake.
Then Gat sprung away like the breeze,
And spied him from up in the trees.
She pointed to Bat
Where the rattler was at,
And told everyone else to freeze.
Yikes, the snake tried to strike at his knees;
Bat evaded his strike with great ease.
Quick did a side-stepper,
And doused him with pepper,
And the rattlesnake started to sneeze!
Well, that was the end of the battle;
They all could now safely skedaddle.
The pepper, in fact
Brought such an attack
That his sneezes set off his rattle!
They all walked home in the sun,
And all had turned out to be fun.
An eggcellent day!
Yes, hip, hip hooray!
Bat and Gat, hero cats, number one!
OLD BOB
Tell ya bout old Bob
Long bout O-One he lost his job
Twernt much ova job I fear
Hadn’t been fer many a year
Standin out front a this here super store
Welcoming folk in kind of a real dang bore
Best thing though bout old smiling Bob
Didn’t mind goin ta work
Kinda liked his job
Standin out front through weather foul or fair
Helping even the infirm with lovin care
Ya might say that there super store was Bob’s true home
Cause after hours Bob sat and sat quite alone
Sat in this one-room pad above a whiskey dive
Listenin ta noise all night all kindsa rock and jive
And as nature will Bob got much older then ill
Standin in front a that there store weak-kneed full a
pain
One day old Bob collapsed couldn’t come back again
He lay on his back atop that whiskey dive
Nary a soul knew old Bob was alive
Ya’d think after years front a that super mart never glum
He’d a wandered round inside found him a chum
“If some help had come he’d have survived” Doc said
This a course too late when they found old Bob dead
Well these things happen in this runaway world
Everybody caught up in their own little whirl
Old Bob it seems uz jist one of the thousands come to a
sorry end
Done his best made mistakes society don’t bend
Old Bob died fer want of a friend
The first time
Goodness?
or not
the first time I saw a man’s parts
I was five…….
Such confusion, such disbelief
hide and seek we played and in a a box he hid.
Sears had delivered a new frig
his sons and I “ally alley out free……..”
we called and ran from room to room
in giggling search for each other.
Closet ……….no..
Behind the kitchen door ……no
Upstairs we ran His son and I to the kids bedroom.
Under the bed….nope!
Downstairs we ran and out the door,
the boy went left I went right.
The backyard with all the sheds and trees and….
a huge cardboard box……….
His eldest son squealed from the front yard…
baby boy was no where out front!!!
The flap on the cardboard box moved.
Ever so quietly I approached ……….
“I got him!” I screamed and lifted the box flap.
Inside the box sat my friends Dad?
In an over coat and nothing else….
“Wanta see what I got?” He said?
Between his hands stood a rigid rod
he petted it. Looking down at it and up at me….
I screamed. I ran. “Grandma! GRANDMAAAAAAAAAAA!”
And that was my first exposure to man.
He had no teeth and neither did his girlfriend.
We’d sit in his apartment in the dark drinking margaritas and watch Jeopardy.
He’d answer every question correctly and his girlfriend would cackle.
He’d shoot at the mice with a pellet gun as they scurried in the shadows.
He rarely missed.
Their heads would explode and I would feel queasy.
Then he’d turn back to the TV leaving the brains splattered on the floor and wall.
We’d stay up all night talking and drinking.
He’d stand out front of the building in the snow in slippers always laughing.
He was always laughing.
Even after I moved 3,000 miles away I’d call him up to talk over the phone he’d tell outrageous stories always laughing.
Sometimes those people that are hurting the most laugh the hardest.
He had no one in the world.
His girlfriend and myself, we were his family.
I figured when he someday died his body would simply turn into a skeleton in his apartment.
And he’d still be laughing.
Louis Armstrong …
a class by himself
Not Dixie or Jazz
but much deeper felt
Growing better with age
his music enthralls
If fourteen or forty
his melodies call
Both Ella and Ray
are seated out front
As Satchmo delivers
when others exeunt
Timelessly treasured
he’d broken the mold
Of what sound can measure
—and a smile can hold
(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)
A “For Sale” sign
stands out front
where once a parish
notice board stood
for a hundred years.
Inside, the pews are gone.
A stark, stripped back space
echoes an absence
occupied now by only wisps
of dust drifting through a shaft
of sunlight, a buzzing blowfly
and a spiders web spun
across a window
as if strung to snare
the frayed wings
of the last
escaping prayer.
Where goest thou soul?
have you split again
into your kaleidoscope frame
in the body so vestigial contained
what if there is not one Other
but many that enter inside
waiting to stake claim
Where goest thou poet?
the higher self penned
it seems you have been contracted
to Groundhog Day again and again
Perhaps you are God, and in you the Matrix,
many souls enter your vessel
like a hotel door rotates and it swings
Where goest thou observer?
you stare at a wall, praying
like a wailing wall waits
for its prayers to be called,
head bowed, knocking, knocking, thrice knocking,
the mind opens its humble Shushan Door
where its Eastern side unsealed, shines so much more
and in walks The Stranger
the reading and writing of messages, bled
palms outheld, barefeet marked,
you have inherited the stigmata
all of a sudden you understand
you have been bookmarked,
alike for a while, shelved to be read
when It counts,
at the closing moment
of the main truth, the do and the dare
you are seated as if religiously waiting in Sunday school
passing and failing the tests, and failing again,
The Stranger smiles
as if you are the only one that imagines
The Stranger Is there,
The Stranger notes the notes you are passing back and forward again,
the teacher out front, has their back turned again, unaware
you pass The Stranger a note,
on it is written, “Get me the Hell out of here.”
The Stranger laughs and agrees
I follow The Stranger's lead like a child waits for a Saviour
to save the day, make it cool -
not a word spoken, yet the exchange, clearly heard,
the Door is wide open, and
out in the playground I am
again, throws me the ball,
I take the shot
The Stranger’s no fool
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Shushan/Golden Gate.
Summer breeze, sun shine
Swinging on the garden seat
A Robins sonnet
The school bus arrives out front
Honey, I got some time off
It's happened every day all around the world
Perhaps even longer than eternity
It's taken different forms throughout the years
But hasn't really changed with certainty
Women love men and men lust for women
The same for thousands of years
You could say I'm out front at the vanguard
Leading the way for my peers
Love doesn't hurt, it actually feels good
If the two of you are doing it right
It's the technique, it should come quite natural
But I'm here if you need some advice
You could say I'm a real professional at this
Been loving nearly eighty years
Surely some good stuff's rubbed off by now
My techniques are known to my peers
My rates are reasonable for obvious reasons
Coz I get to pretest young fillies
To make sure they understands my instructions
It's not about sex, DON'T BE SILLY!
© Jack Ellison 2014
THEY SAY YOU ARE THE K-KING
I DON'T BELIEVE A WORD
SOMEONE SAID YOUR FASTBALL
WAS THE BEST HE EVER HEARD
THEY SAY YOU HAVE A FASTBALL
THE FASTEST OF THEM ALL
SHOW ME YOUR BEST FASTBALL
I'LL DRIVE IT OFF THE WALL
THEY SAY YOU HAVE A NASTY CURVE
ENOUGH TO BACK'EM DOWN
SHOW ME YOUR BEST NASTY CURVE
I'LL TAKE THAT PITCH DOWN-TOWN
THEY SAY YOU HAVE A CHANGE-UP
THAT LEAVES THEM WAY OUT FRONT
SHOW ME YOUR BEST CHANGE-UP
I'LL TEACH YOU HOW TO BUNT
THEN I STEPPED UP TO THE PLATE
I HEARD THE UMP CALL STRIKE
I DUG IN JUST A LITTLE MORE
THAT CURVEBALL TOOK A BITE
I WAITED ON THAT CHANGE-UP
YET SURE ENOUGH THEY'RE RIGHT
I TURNED AROUND TO FACE THE UMP
HE JUST SMILED AND SAID GOOD NITE
I BELIEVE YOU ARE THE K-KING
YOU'RE THE BEST I'VE EVER SEEN
YOU DESERVE TO BE BASEBALL'S
ALL-TIME STRIKE OUT KING
Michael E. Harris