Best Placesme Poems
We met a few years ago, then suddenly you were gone
We danced the very last dance to our favourite song
Happenings in our lives took control of our tomorrows
That evening when you walked away, filled my heart with sorrow
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I heard the telephone ring, I answered and you were there
And we spoke of the past few years, these years we could have shared
The time flew by when we talked, sharing our pasts to date
When you said you'd like to meet up again, my heart just couldn't wait
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I picked you up from the Airport, you hadn't changed at all
Six foot plus with sky blue eyes, still leaving me enthralled
We settled into our night for tomorrows journey we'll make
To a rented cottage so idyllically set, down by the lake
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The morning came so fast as we set of on our trip
Again going over the years, picturing like a movie clip
Our destination now reached, refreshed we head for a meal
At a restaurant overlooking the lake, our pasts begin to seal
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Back to the cottage we go, as you gently take my hand
So dreamy under the full moon, is this what fate had planned
You play our favourite song, the one we danced to so long ago
As you take me in your arms, something in me flows
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We look into each others eyes as you ruffle my long blond hair
I see desire looking back from your manly sky blue stare
Slowly we discard our clothes as you lay me on the bed
Adventurous discovering hands declare our minds well read
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Our passion resonates, excitement fills the air
Years of catching up in delightful bodily share
We awaken in the morning, spooned within my reach
Our love has been reborn, re-found visiting Qualicum Beach
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-15.php
Sun is declining, beneath a blue Irish sea
With a fire to warm me' bones, in a cottage by the bay
And the coals to bake me scones,
Where the bracken turns so reddin'
Like a wildfire on the mountain
And wee nanny goats on rocky hillsides, are too many for the countin'
Heather waves in summer breezes...
And harshness bringin' winter's season
Thar' be waving sails upon the blue
And leafy shamrocks on the green
Where the rugged shores, and seagulls cry, and a sunset captures you
Granite stones, and bogs of grass, water gleams like shining glass
Friendly folks bearin' ruddy cheeks, and a colleen, fair thee lass
We'll tip our mug at village pub, and make a toast to St. Patty's kin
Let me sink me' eyes upon the scene of Irish rugged land
Upon the skies, upon the streams, where druid legends live
Upon the land...home of the clan, where me many roots began
Where the ole' pale moon at nightfall, scatters memories a'glowing
Of fair roses of Tralee, over garden gate, a growin'
Charming valleys, greener hillsides, fill thee heart of all 'me clan
Pick ye' a shamrock.... look for gold, shake yer' hands with leprechauns
Kiss ye' a Blarney .....Come to Killarny, come to all that's home to me
Where names of O'Reily, or McDougal where so many Mac' roots began
For Debbie's contest "Over the Rainbow"
Fill me once more,Holy Spirit to know,
Move me ,inside,you love to show,
Quieten my heart,now to play
Without rehearsal,on life's stage each phrase to say.
Speak,speak by thought,picture,word or deed,
Then in my weakness,your strength feed:
O teach my tomgue to quiet be,
Until you prompt,and all I say,is all of thee.
This quatrain was inspired by Abraham Cowley's (1618-67) 'Hymn to Light'
What am i doing
I'm a squirrel in the cold
I should have listened to my mam
And done what i was told
But not me you see
I wanted to go into town
To look for nuts and goodies
Until a strong wind blew me down
I fell into a corner
All white with glistening snow
I hurt myself when i fell
I'm now so full of woe
My little eye's were closing
As the cold was making me shiver
Although i have a furry coat
I was starting to shake and quiver
I sensed a shadow approaching
A hand came down to me
He lifted me from the snow
A saviour he will be
He held me in a glove
The warmth came back to me
If he had not looked in the corner
What would they have found of thee
It's now well into spring
My savior's nursed me back
If i was as big as them
I would pat them on the back
If they could see me now
As i dance and run in the tree's
Where the city is just a memory
I'm so happy, alive and free
I read the lovely poem called " SAVING SHIVERS! (winter of '73) " by James
and i just so wanted to be the squirrel, and this is his reply.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup.php
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I love my feet they are the best,
To take me on untraveled paths.
They tramp along with little rest,
Until I’m panting shallow breaths.
Making tracks across the countryside,
They lead the way while I just follow.
Not content with trucks or cars to ride,
They walk until my legs become as Jell-O.
It’s my feet that often guides the way,
And leaves me tired and well expended.
Then, it’s not always nice the words I say,
When the day of rambling trails has ended.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate my feet,
They lead me out in early morning sunrise.
It’s because of them that I and nature meet,
And while they touch the earth, my spirit flies.
......................................................................................................................................
Walk me down these nostalgic streets
And laugh and make me wander
Make me feel the bliss that dwells in me
Before it tears asunder
For I have seen you often whilst passing by
These shops and bicycles and walls
I have sensed you in this rising smoke of
Restaurants and cigarettes and squalls
For even in these quieted nights
When my thoughts are left untold
I begin to bespeak your calming presence
In the words of my every ode
I begin to delude and question time,
Which in these false timepieces warps
I begin to rest my body in utter oblivion
As if it were a floating corpse
And every morning I awake subdued,
My feelings and thoughts misplaced
For even my coffee bears in its brew
Your bitter aftertaste
What's the need of a resolution?
In life's solution
Always changes but compliments rotation
As I look around the location
I feel a sense of upliftment...
This is my home, gives me protection
They say it's full of corruption
But everyday is a new edition
Somethin' new, always happenin'
Like township music rocks, jammin'...
The feelin' I get when I walk the street
Makes me feel collected
Brings back the sensation
That triggers the vibration
And plants a seed of inspiration...
For my dreams, I envision
And there is no confusion...
That I'm back
And I'm proud to be Namibian!
.
HOW
“THREE DOLLAR DEWEYS”
GOT ITS’ NAME
(redux)
We’ve been watching you reading our sign,
know what your thinking, what an unusual line.
Come on in, you’ll have a wonderful time.
Tell you a story and won’t take your last dime.
Legend has it that Dewey dropped in here,
looking for a lot more than a sandwich and beer.
A “Honky-Tonk Woman” worked her way to the old Port from Nantucket.
The money she earned, she put in her bucket.
She sold it on Commercial St. without any fear.
Meeting men at its’ intersection with Union, a perfectly named location, I hear.
Along came Dewey and asked for the price.
Normally it’s a buck but for you Dewey, it’s one times thrice.
Dewey scowled with some obvious distain.
That is until offered this sensible economic refrain.
Dewey, you won’t think the price is too high,
just let me put my hands in your fly.
Forget about everything except your own stimulation.
Money means nothing when it comes to inflation.
Plus, you’re going to be so ecstatic,
after you take me to that attic.
Folks’ let’s remember Dewey wasn’t looking for a bride,
but damn glad he paid those three bucks, for a “TICKET TO RIDE!”
The woman and bucket went back to Nantucket they say,
leaving Dewey thinking, I might as well stay.
He bought the whole corner by selling forty different beers and ale.
Next came the food and tourists, according to the tale.
Let’s end this ditty and come straight to the point.
That’s the way it came about, the naming of this joint.
*** During lunch on a tour of New England, the director challenged us to find out how this
bar in the seaport of Portland Maine got its' name. I said I would do him one better, I would
bring in the "Beatles and Stones." The Bar, Name, Location, Reasons are factual, perhaps
some have been there.
Your cold right now
your body is still
but let me warm you up
and give you my fill
slowly I enter
you tremble surprised
you got me all wet
my body has raised
You pleasure me hastily
with your gentle waves
I use my hands with their fingers
to play with your face
your swishing back and forth
I've made you all wild
How I love to take a swim
in this pool for a while
It sat on Miss Ruth's desk, a sphere of intrigue and wonder.
'Twas a globe that in my reveries I'd gaze at and ponder.
It depicted marvelous vistas that seductively beckoned me,
And lit a fire in my youthful soul for places I yearned to see!
How my free spirit longed to escape her penetrating eyes,
And sail upon the foamy seas or soar thro' pristine skies,
To mysterious far-away lands of which I could only dream.
The globe hypnotized me as it basked in the sunlight's beam.
Ah! To scale the heights of Mount Fuji in beautiful Japan,
Or travel the rugged Khyber Pass in mysterious Pakistan.
To glide past ancient, majestic castles on the River Rhine,
Or visit holy places where Jesus walked would truly be devine!
I daydreamed about a safari to the nation of Mozambique;
I pined to see Mount Pelee Volcano on the Isle of Martinique.
The Egyptian Pyramids along the River Nile I must also see,
And Holland's windmills, tulips and its famed Zuider Zee!
What exotic places Casablanca, Istanbul and Athens must be!
And I want to see the lovely islands of the Caribbean Sea.
With glazed eyes I'd fantasize about world-wide expeditions,
'Til she'd wake me from my trance with scorching admonitions!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
I stood above the bottomless hole
A little way from the brim
And saw its waters, menacing, cold
Blue too when sun was dim
Away behind the Orange Grove church
Where rocks give way to swamp
A power silent at me did lurch
My sweating hands very cramp
I struggled to look away from it
The water's blue seduction
The presence of an awesome spirit
Pulling me for destruction
My father warned me I should not go
Let curiosity dry
But stories I heard tugged at me so
Father's wish I did defy
For I am Maroon too like them all
Like Reddicas who dived in
Left in spring and stayed until the fall
Grand uncle forgive my sin
For the lore told of you like sweet tropes
Each myth your legend more swell
Great seer, I bring my heart and its hopes
To learn the place where you dwell
But all I saw was picture of sky
And a blue malignant eye
A silence where no winds ever sigh
And sudden awe - I could die
They said I should hear the sea's deep call
Or the earth's belly yearning
Feel, but all there was my fear to fall
And blue hole without meaning
ALAKPLE
From the borders of Ketu, here I stand
I command you, my stranger
Go far, far beyond the land of Keta
Cross the lagoon, Nonobe, Awalifi and Ledzor
Beyond, there is an abode
A giant piece stuck among the lot of six villages
It's Alakple, the pacesetter
Taste my offer
All what you think, you heard, you wish
If not convinced, come tomorrow
I have a big place, a comfort on a straw mats: I promise
For all who wish to know me
Alakple, icons of forgotten heroes
Home of Nyigbla, home of Kotoka
I boast not but call thee mine
Nearer to my bossom, I call my children
Where I quest you crave, yakayake and tillapia chowder
One thing, marvels
Just a lot about me not known
That had clouded your mind as fallacies
"A village beyond the lagoon"
But....
Whatever, whenever to thee, I shall return
Mother, my land, Alakple
From ten years absence, please call me back.
I was driving down Eighteenth Avenue in Bensonhurst
in my scash-a-bang Chevy Chavalier...and I was having a wallear for a hero,
but I didn't wanna wait on line like those noisy kids from Mexico;
I tried to jump the line, but duh tall, mean-looking boss yelled at me,
" Get back on line, skinny molink...I don't like dis kinda of weisenheimer...
you're just another duh-ta-duh! " I wa so hungry I could have eat'n a cow,
and want'd give him a piece of my silly mind! " Oh, my God...he sounds like those tough
dudes from The Sopranos! " You got a loud mouth, wack! " I yell'd back
" Don't you mess with a goomba! I said with the loudest voice " Oh, my God,
you get me so mad...I just wanna my meatballs hero and go! "
The chubby man with a face fins said angrily, " Hear me out...don't you tawk to me
like dat, I axeya in a nice way, so go back on line and wait
like dey do! Don't you laugh at me like I'm tell' you a wacky joke!"
He freezes my words...I can't tawk and with a huge hero
in my hand, I quickly run back to my scash!
Translation:
I was driving down Eighteenth Avenue in Bensonhurst
in my-beat-up Chevy Chavalier, and I had a craving for a sanwich,
but I didn't want to wait in line like those noisy kids from Mexico!
I tried to jump the line, but the tall, mean-looking boss yelled at me,
"Get back on line, skinny guy...I don't like this kind of wise guy...you are
just another idiot! " I was so hungry, I could have eaten a cow,
and wanted to give him a piece of my silly mind!" " Oh, my God...he sounds like those tough
dudes from The Sopranos! " " You got a loud mouth, wacko! " I yelled back,
"Don't you mess with a clown!" I said with the loudest voice " Oh, my God,
you get me so mad...I just want my meatballs sandwich and go!" The chubby man
with the moustache said angrily, " Hear me out, don't you talk to me like that...
I'm asking you nicely, so go back in line and wait like they do!
Don't you laugh at me like I'm telling you a crazy joke!"
He freezes my words...I can't talk and with a huge hero
in my hand, I quickly run back to my old-beat-up car!!
Entered in Deberah's Gucci " Dialects make the world go 'round "
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
A precious pearl
In our family garden
A very rare diamond
In the pillar of our of our heritage
Pride of its nation
When the sun rise on the horizon
Beauty without a season
This jewellery light up in a song
Eternal jewellery of my life
The reason for my inclination
Bring me to my country
Bring me to the nature
Where I can smell the perfume of the cinnamon
And drink a cup citronelle tea
Jewellery of my life
Jewellery of my desire
A nation multi-colour
With ambiance of the rainbow
In the sky
Bring me to the rare diamond
Where the world doesn't really know
Surrounded by silence and draped with a linen sheet,
to keep dust from your natural sheen,
and protect you from direct sunlight;
not from the loneliness and gloominess of your night...
How thrilling and gratifying was to hear
the gleeful or moody notes,
when these careful fingers
played an octave: either lower or higher!
Never abandoned for a long period,
always tuned-up, free of dust and ready for play;
a companion that loved being spoiled,
by letting me improvise the melody of the day...
Let me see myself in virtual reality, stately and taut,
sitting in my stylish pose, and hit the keyboard,
transcribing a musical comedy by sharp memory
as the chords make up my distinct harmony...
Be dormant no more, come alive and rejuvenate your tones:
as the spirit that inspires the mood of your melodies; bring back
all the tenors and sopranos to this forgotten stage so dark,
and let them sing the arias they choose within the range of their keys....