Best Patting Poems
FROM A HOSPITAL BED
Wordancer
Even if I’m dizzy with an aching head,
I must not disturb the others in the beds
In this hospital ward where not much is said
For fear of making a fuss.
It’s not much fun with nothing to do
Can’t even get up to go to the Loo
The doctors come, and ask, ‘How are you?’
It’s hard to tell them which is worse
Visiting hours and here’s Dad and Mum
Who immediately asks me why I’m so glum.
I tell them, ‘The others had ice-cream, but I got none,
And, if it was you Dad; you’d curse!’
Patting my hand, Mum says, ‘It’s all right,’
And Dad says, ‘You might get some tonight,
Cos you’re looking better, you’re not so white,
I’ll go over and ask that nurse.’
Back he comes grinning down the ward,
And sits back in the chair without a word,
To Mum he whispers so he can’t be heard
Then his eyes meet mine, his lips are pursed.
The doors swing open; a nurse comes through,
Carrying a tray and says, ‘This is for you,
You can have some now you are healing like new,
To Mum, Dad says, ‘We’ll cancel the hearse!’
I’ve broken no bones, the x-rays prove,
But there’ll be a scar and a slight groove
Left from the fencepost that failed to move
When I fell on it, off my horse
With an arm in a sling and one foot on the ground,
The other in plaster and my head bandaged round,
I’m going home soon, and my horse has been found
Across the river, but he’s none the worst.
It’s easy to laugh with no aching head
And it doesn’t disturb the others in beds
‘There is no need to fear,’ as everyone says,
‘Just ring the bell for the nurse!’
Is all we have, just hours or years, a lie we believe.
We have no clarity as to what God will do.
So grab this minute given to you by God, you don't
need to be ruled by the terrorism of the mob.
The mob will shirk you, humiliate you, so do look for
the leading star in a crowd.
Like sheep they huddle in common mediocrity, adoring
each other,so slovenly.
Their eyes never raised to adore, just to gain points, they
do keep score!
Patting their own backs constantly, with no credit ever,
not for one second to God.
Indeed, in the arts and literature, many are eternally lost.
Refusing to realize, that the eternal loss of their souls is
their ultimate cost.
August 5, 2019
9:30pm PST
A hot cup of tea greeting me—
first thing in the morning,
wife smiling unconditionally, xo!
hot water on tap, tsh…
neighbour’s doggy popping in to play,
“yap..yap..”
adding to the warmth,
a nice, steaming breakfast,
finishing the punch line of a poem—for a contest
colleagues in the department patting me on my new shirt,
boss on the phone, “good work, so and so!”
overhearing students chattering merrily—about my latest lecture
a brisk round of tick-tock table tennis,
back home for a sumptuous dinner
and chat with the family, “haha, cacka…packa.. he he”
dozing off while reading a book—zzz...
all these things do happen to me or anyone —
but not on the same day!
Actually, there may be water on tap—not hot
Or while petting, the neighbour’s puppy
pisses on your new shirt…etc!
It is after all my notion of a perfect day—a daydream!
***
Winner, Poetry Contest sponsored by Madison Demetros, December 5, 2017.
Sailing on the sweet river Shannon.
Ireland's river ways central vein.
Sleeping soundly on a river barge.
Listening to the pit patting rain.
Stopping engine to eat each evening
Gazing at a flamingo pink sky.
Making many friends in local pubs.
Until it is time to say goodbye.
Rising slowly when at every lock.
Chatting happily with other folk.
Out on their daily riverside walk.
Who like to stop for a little talk.
A father is….
….that grouchy, cursing guy
who just banged his head
on the cabinet door
getting under the sink
to fix a leak
…that “voice” resounding
off the walls
singing – off key,
talking to the dog,
whispering
“I love you’s”
to sleeping children.
…that firm hand
patting you on the back
when deserved,
a bit lower at times
also when deserved.
…he is that “look”
that can inflate,
or deflate, you
amuse and confuse you,
stop you
in your tracks
to ponder – “why”
…he is the ears
that don’t seem
to be listening,
yet hear everything
…the eyes
that don’t seem
to be looking
but see “you”
when you can’t
see yourself
A father is
“that wry smile”
that grin
that says “I love you”
without words.
5/19/2016
submitted to – A Father is…- Poetry Contest
sponsor – Brenda Chiri-Carroll
If I had the words to speak of a new beginning,
I would crawl inside that inspiration and cry the tears that elude me,
I sometimes wonder if my daughter will know the horror of a soul that won’t cry,
I hope not, I hope she knows nothing but sadness and joy,
I once dreamed of a Christmas morning adorned with all of my friends and family laughing
to the sounds of Earth, Wind, and Fire.
And soon that may come.
But now, I see dreams just beyond my reach,
And hopes that look impossible,
This sorrow is a wondrous antidote to the horror of my refracted consciousness screaming
that I am hell bound,
For I may never know the joy of dreams fulfilled,
But in the meantime, I feel God’s tears pitter patting on my window sill,
And I leave my window open, so that he knows I’m listening.
Just half a meter away is this semi-covered female
so fertile for a score of trees to grow on
smooth and soft, curvy and oily
a rich landscape for my longings to become playful penguins.
Her body’s map has been possessed by my hunger
and a split second is too long for our disappearance from door to bed
as the tiles beat my wardrobe to claim the auction of our flying clothes.
Fierce and aggressive, every act is industrialized for pain to taste sweet
a little harm is not unhealthy, let a smile show from the thorn’s tip
biting but patting softly; modesty, the only crime
pinning down and licking through, respect, out of bound
sharp pinching and slow tickling; legality is completely unwanted
summing up an erotic wrestling as intimate as the coiling of wires.
Tightly cornered ‘V’ in front, roundly curved ‘W’ behind
I gradually rise erectly, facing the clouds from under
to honour this beautiful respect towards the pattern of the english alphabets.
Muscles gliding over muscles
joints clicking in a uniform rhythm
produced fluids, keeping both souls sticky
love on stage and now in full display.
Sounds from raging hearts, dancing furniture, bullied foam
all in one competitive race.
Skins on fire for desires to completely burn
so hard, gets inside so wet;
everything else is then subjected to a bouncing and stretching symphony.
It is nothing but refreshing
to abuse our privacy and change the colours of its secrecy;
mourn all night my love and let our instincts ride this luxurious yacht.
Published: 6/25/2020
For the Sensuality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Placement: 2nd (7/1/2020)
Daisy
My memories of you.
The loving licks on our face,
were cherished moments we
embraced.
A friend in you, I could
always trust, just you
and I, the two of us.
I remember our walks
in the park, and the
birds you chased,
Oh, how you barked!
The baths I gave you
to keep you clean, but
you loved dirty puddles
more, it would seem.
What you would do
for a tasty treat, was
raise your paw, and
shake for me.
You always laid so close to
me, and I loved patting you
tirelessly.
You, leaving us brings us
so much pain, and our tears
flow like torrential rain.
You were in our lives
for a little while, and
it was your affection that
brought warm smiles.
When I think of you I
will reminisce, of the love
I had, and now I miss.
A love so Dear that
overwhelms, that fills our
hearts and has no bounds.
On Angel's Wings you
journeyed on, and found
yourself in Our Lord's arms.
We Love you Daisy...
Our Beloved Maria and Ron and family
are grieving the loss of their dog
Daisy who passed away Wednesday.
It was Maria and Ron's daughters
beloved dog Daisy.
Please pray for healing for the family.
Your supportive comments would be
appreciated for the family. Rest in
our Lords arms Daisy...
Darkness laid around us like a blanket
Consuming us in its womb
She was crying
I was quiet
Crickets chirped softly in the distance
Her face was buried in my chest
She was shaking like a small child
I felt numb
She was sorry
The moon looked down upon us
I thought it would be different
I thought I would be empowered
She thought it would be different
She thought she would be free
I rolled her softly over
I sat up to view the night
She curled up in a ball
Still wriggling with remorse
Patting her on the shoulder
I lit a cigarette
The mist fell over the lake like a grey blanket.
Only the sound similar to a ranket*
The water still and lifeless, not a ripple to be seen.
The air not foetid but fresh and clean.
And I felt a chill from the loss forever of my Bill.
Sitting in the snow, my mind void of thought.
Blocking the clarity, I so desperately sought.
Enraptured by a numbness circling my soul.
Seeking solace most peaceful and whole.
And I felt a chill from the loss forever of my Bill.
Enjoying the loneness, no wish for chatting.
Glancing I saw a large wolf come pitter patting.
I felt a hot breath behind my head.
Its eyes piercing, though I did not dread.
I felt a chill. Said the wolf "forever with your Bill"
Without thinking I asked the creature.
It stared at me with a chiseled facial feature.
Why are you here, what purpose do you fulfil?
Again, I asked, are you here to remind me of Bill?
I felt a chill. Said the wolf "forever with your Bill"
My dear Bill’s emblem was a wolf, a large tattoo.
Not a man saved all drowned captain and his crew.
Dear Bill working on that ill-fated ship lost at sea.
We had plans, Bill and I, he was going to marry me.
I felt a chill. Said the wolf "forever with your Bill"
I could not fathom why the wolf was here.
I spoke harshly to the beast without any fear.
Wolf what are you doing encroaching my space?
The wolf answered, gave me a blank face.
I felt a chill. Said the wolf "forever with your Bill"
Where do you emerge from canine ghost?
Are you evil, should I dread you most?
Who sent you to unsettle me and joust my mind?
You speak of my dear Bill, do you mean unkind?
I felt a chill. Said the wolf "forever with your Bill"
Again, I demanded an answer from the beast.
Surely that was what I could expect at the least.
The wolf did not answer, it just walked away.
That is the last I have seen of it, to this very day.
And I felt a chill from the loss of my Bill.
At eventide,
Under the roseate glow
Of the receding evening sun
I sauntered down the road
To where my beloved dwell
Not far-off from my own abode
Fast by his threshold
A low moan issued from his room
I made open the unlocked door
And so I happened upon him
Mightily taking his mistress
My eyes grew wide in shock
I made as if to storm,
But then stopped
Loosed upon me, an exquisite pain
Felt with every fibre of my being
Soundlessly, I turned around
Post-haste, homeward bound
In great dolour, I walked onward
Carrying my enfeebled feet
Heedless of the lowering clouds
Lightning flashing, thunder pealing
Yet I walk onward
And so the heaven opened
Pouring, the rain
The entire me suffused with it
Thus I quiver in frost, yet
I walked my leaden leg in the drenching rain
And so the inky blackness of the night cast over me
The evanescent rain went home
Afterwards , I gained my shelter
All rain-drenched
I laid, inert in my bed
With an unblinking stare,
My eyes cast into the void
Benightedly, I fell in the arms of Morpheus
And I saw the door opened with a groan
Came in, my inconstant lover
He drew nearer and sat fast by me
I couldn't cast a look at him
For scalding tears welled up in my eyes
He pillowed my head on his chest
And nursed me in his arms
Touched his lips to my locks
Now patting, now caressing
My shoulder, my tresses
His heart beating pitter-patter
He held the nape of my neck
And with an undertone voice
Whispered to my ear
Forgive my failings, my Inamorata
You're a vision of beauty,
And you're my true love.
I harkened to the honeyed words
Falling from his silver tongue
My heart leapt
Thus, hungrily,
I bathed his lips with sensuous kisses
And I melted into his embrace.
I arouse from my slumber, behold!
E'en the murky darkness of the night
Has passed away
And the sun, smiling in the heavens
But my heart, still heavy with pain
Alas! Who to bring solace to my lugubrious tear-stained visage
Born in 1947
a delicate post war child
So shy was she
and nervous too
a flimsy fragile flower
who when her mother took her out
began to scream
began to shout
Her hair drew great attention
from old dears far and wide
titian with a hint of auburn
shiny and sumptuous
speckled with gold
so shy she abhorred it
old ladies adored it
as they stopped in the street
to Mother would speak
as they oohed
as they aahed
as they stroked
as they patted
ignoring the child underneath
She hated her hair
for the colour it was
and the hoards of old dears
with their oohing
and aahing
their stroking
and patting
She wanted to run
she wanted some fun
so she hatched up a plan
and with scissors in hand
she cut
she snipped
she hacked
until finally her hair
was no longer there
When Mother discovered
the damage she’d done
she screamed
and she shrieked
an attack of the vapors
sent her spiraling down
as she fell to her feet
For her beautiful girl
with her auburn hair
was now bald
not a single hair
was there
The child was delighted
no more oohing
nor aahing
no more patting
nor stroking
Over the years
her hair grew back
the shy fragile flower
she blossomed
Learning to love her auburn locks
they found her a perfect lover
This gorgeous man ~ there was no other
was rather partial to hair of red
his oohing
and aahing
his patting
and stroking
she really loved
and for 41 years they were wed
he was rather partial to hair of red...
Written 8th July 2019
I am that titian/auburn haired child…
Contest: Childhood Memories
Sponsor:Chantelle Anne Cooke
N/A
Contest: You and yours
Sponsor:Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
TEAR JERKER
when he wouldn’t eat
i knew something was wrong
and those helpless eyes
as though he wanted to tell me
he needed help but no voice
when i met those eyes
something old as creation
communication
burned across primordial fires
transcending species gender
“though I love you friend
though I know that you love me
it is time to leave
talk very kindly to me
whispering patting my head”
…………………………………………..
This in remembering all our animal friends that have gone over the last nearly 60 years
My hands were
Alone that
Patted my back
Inspired by a new contest
that has recently appeared
in The Soup.
It seems the gauntlet, (has been thrown down)
A line drawn in the sand
A challenge made to see "What's What"
To those who'll fall or stand
And strips away the accolades
Of poems that are bland
No more X's, no more O's
No more patting on the backs
No more two word kindly comments
Just the straight but helpful facts
And when dissecting poems
Try not to use an axe
You might be toting genuine skill,
Or blessed with parity
But writing Great Stuff, takes more than just will
Now, that's been a rarity
To get critiqued on ones own bill
Instead of pop-u-lar-i-ty