Best Pastime Poems
America's (Idle) Pastime
From New York, Austin, and L.A.,
From Cleveland and Seattle,
Ingloriously they screech or bray
In an auditioning battle.
And by the time we all feel sick,
(the judges homicidal!),
we get to know from whom we’ll pick
our next great Singing Idol.
For the "A GROOK FOR ALL OCCASIONS" Poetry Contest of Suzzette Crous
(using topic one, annoying sound and also etc topic, on a TV show I actually love!)
Going to war armed with a metal pole,
A stiff breeze cuts the summer air.
Becoming safe is the primary goal,
And the chattering and cheering begin to blare.
I stop to turn and face my enemy,
He stares me down, ready to battle.
I can only imagine what lies ahead of me,
But I'm tough, so I know I won't rattle.
The first shot is fired, the battle's begun,
And the shot comes close, but misses its spot.
It may have come close, but I will not run,
I dig back in and wait for the next shot.
Wind kicks up the rust colored dirt,
As a next shot, colored white, is coming near.
So I deflect the shot away, without being hurt,
Then dig back in again, feeling no fear.
A third shot is fired in the ferocious fight,
And as this next shot closes on in,
I focus and swing with all my might,
Knowing this is a battle I will win.
I smack the shot long and far,
This will be my moment of fame.
The shot clears the fence and hits a car,
And I know my homerun has won the game.
Baseball National Pastime
bleeds red, white and blue
from soft catch to Major League
fanning sea to see
connie pachecho
3/15/17
My Favourite Pastime
I long for a cozy blanket
Secure and wise.
As warm as a down filled pillow and a snuggly five year old.
Never alone or adrift,
My memory stands, with my favourite past time.
It extends as far back as the ends of the earth or heaven sublime.
As deep as a murky ocean with foamy tides, rising and rising as far as time.
My favourite pastime,
How you have comforted and wiped my tears.
I sink in gratitude
On a couch or a bed.
The day ahead looks better.
The worry of yesterday forgotten in wonder.
I grew up in your arms, words that eased my heart never lost.
Where was my mom, I never asked, though her willing arms were left outstretched.
As soon as the teenage years hit, my confusion twisted like dust mixed with dread.
I could have curled and mopped in my bed but I picked you up, quite ruffled and pulled with threads.
Now,
I come to realize.
I clutched this pastime, not as a pastime, but my lifeline.
A father, a mother, a soft bosom. Your words dripped long and deep in my heart. Like the sweetest honey it eased down and filled my soul.
Now,
I know my idea of heaven complete would have aisles, stacked with wisdom.
Now,
I pass on your gifts and read with my child.
Paint pretty pictures peacefully
Paddle past ports paddocks – places panoramic
Peruse prospects pending play
Plan perceive possible plots
Pander persuade people precociously
Promising provocative plans persuasively
Propose patrons participation piquantly
Provide platforms permitting passion
Paradoxical pleasures permeate pleasingly
Participants partake pander panache
Paradigms preempt paradise pleasantly
Post-postmortems provide perchance possibilities
Present portray peaceful poise
Poignantly permit passing promises
Pledge pitch permit pipe-dreams
Pilot phenomenal pleasing performances
From New York City to L.A.; from Austin to Seattle,
so-called singers screech or bray in an auditions battle!
For Brian Strand's "A Couple of Lines"
Some like to go outside and hit a ball, when others walk really fast in the mall.
Many choose to sit and watch T.V., then there are those who fish in the sea.
Several bake goodies in their fine kitchen, while a part want to be a magician.
There is a portion that sing and dance, and of course those that seek romance.
As for me I think I sometimes weary, for my many recreations sure do vary.
From taking photos, to beautifying the yard, sharing the WORD,which I regard!
Plus crafting, framing, and Photoshop too, hiking a trail, run miles, that’s few!
Jotting a poem, and making it rhyme, this my friend is a treasured pastime!
And even though it all may get a bit exhausting, the benefits are like savoring fluffly frosting.
So regardless of how many things you are doing, don’t lose heart, the gifts of God are worth pursuing!
Now I will tell you about myself,
My looks, my loves, my desire for approval.
First my favorite past time, I'll say
Is to play games with Sun1ite, my human.
I bark at odd times in the day,
Just to get let outside,
For I know she'll hand me a treat,
As frustrated as she is inside.
And then there's my love of sleeping,
Wherever I lie, I snore,
Sun1ite thinks it's sweet and soothing,
Keeps me busy and not scratching the floor.
And now, I'll speak of my beauty,
My bright black eyes and black nose,
Fluffy white fur that covers her carpet,
But that keeps her busy and indoors.
All in all my favorite pastime is ME,
I do what I want when I want don't you see,
My job is to protect and be cute and gorgeous,
That's just the way God made me.
My favorite pastime is ME.
A favorite pastime of mine is to watch wildlife from our front porch or window. Kentucky bluegrass provides a perfect backdrop for deer drinking from the lake, pretending not to watch fawns running in circles, bucking and playing in the fields. Frosty, our horse, grazes right along with the turkey foraging for meals. Cardinals, blue finches and hummingbirds fly from flowers to shrubs to feeders. They, along with the dragonflies, butterflies and bees, seem to follow an invisible orchestra conductor. Lately the ducks, Quack and Quacker, appear to be somewhat intuitive. I also use this God-given opportunity as a mental diversion for physical pain, after seeing specialist after specialist.
two ducks each circle
leaves that circle the two ducks
round and round the lake
June 27, 2018
haibun Contest by Mick Talbot
July 5, 2018
Third Place
old man counts coup
lots killed few missed
aims true then laughs
a long stretched band
the aged hand aims
flies land dead
This actually happened. I was about ten years old, visiting my gramp’s home, in the North Carolina mountains just out of Canton. My mom needed some relief while she was about to have my second brother. Grand dad took us across the pasture to a neighbor’s home to listen to a champion ship boxing match on the radio. I don’t remember who fought but I remember it being gosh awful hot and the windows were up to catch a breeze which never came. On reflecting later I supposed it had something to do with giving the flies a way to get back out. Not the first sign of a screen anywhere on the windows. Anyway this old, old man about 200 or so years was in bed with some kind of nite shirt on. He was sitting up, propped against some pillows and had a sling shot rubber. He could stretch it out about three feet and then pop the flies off of his bed from about two, two and half feet away. It was all he could do to stretch that band back and you can imagine his hands were wobbling and shaking from the strain. When he popped a fly he would just laugh like crazy. Somehow he managed to sync with all that wobbling and shaking and would usually get a fly. On the way home we laughed about that till our sides split. I have often thought about the old man and the way he had to spend his last days. The way he laughed I guess he was happy enough in his situation. And the way we laughed I hope was not a lack of deference to his situation, but the comedic fashion in which he was acting. The longer I live, it seems the more respect I have for old people. Wonder why that is?
Making people giggle is a pastime of mine
Have had many pastimes, too many to define
My memory's quite shot
Never change my socks
Got no people friends but wee animals are fine
Thomas Higgins was busy doctor
And spent his evenings with the rector
Who managed a nearby seminary;
He was a man loveably down-to-earth and ordinary.
He spent the hours between four and six
In the nearby arboretum studying twings
And the little monkeys that graced the trees,
He had a bottle with stuff that looked like juice
From which he drank from time to time,
And I fancied some day I would write him some rhyme.
He did hasty press-ups and liked to jog
And beside him sat Casey his faithful dog;
He followed his master wherever he went
And wagged his tail whenever his master bent.
Thomas and Higgins were such faithful friends
And such were their daily trends;
Whenever they walked back home
Casey would lead the way as was his accustomed norm.
Up high...
gracefully moving in it's circular motion
an Eagle soars between the sun and the earth...
local ravens,those earthly attendants,
rise to playfully pursue their majesic friend...
their jovial caws and beak nipping,an aerialist sport,
after a while,becomes a distractive annoyance...
so...with a tip of a wing,and a tilt of the tail,
the Eagle fastens itself upon a thermal and
effortlessly,glides away toward calmer space,
....smiling at the jokesters left behind....
Sitting among my paints and glitter
reaching for a blank canvas
I smile at true me.
An artist, dream-maker, cartoonist, I
separate from regular snore bore life
Becoming more real than ever
when I get to my studio.
I reach for my paint brush,
glorying in my bliss
in distraction I relish lazily with ease - life’s pastime pleasure
One Liner - Entertainment Poetry Contest
Silent One
December 17, 2018