Best Played Poems
The photo is of Brennan, my three and a half year old grandson. He's fully focused on everything he does ~ sports, art, Pixar cars...and yes, cartoon videos...however...read on.
A soccer player at the age of three
with a cherub face and dimpled knee
this child was born from my progeny
Intently focused on kicking the ball
his aim was straight and he didn't fall
"SCORE!" everyone laughed at the call
Four goals that day he proudly made
but two for the other team, I'm afraid
He didn't care. Nor did I. Well played!
By different lovers I’ve been kept,
some skillful and a few inept.
I always respond, unafraid.
I rather enjoy being played.
A Spaniard picked me up one time.
His classic strumming was sublime.
Notes poured from me like a cascade.
I rather enjoy being played.
That man released me, and soon I
was picked up by a strange punk guy
who stroked me roughly. Though betrayed,
I rather enjoy being played.
My strings broke often from his touch,
yet thrilled was I by his thrum. Such
unique new tunes from me were made.
I rather enjoy being played.
His sister held me awkwardly,
but then she sang so beautifully
it mattered not my sound would fade. . .
I rather enjoy being played.
She and her brother gave me to
some plucking fools without a clue
till an artiste came to my aid.
I rather enjoy being played.
He pressed my frets, this handsome boy.
My stings were vibrating with joy.
I climaxed with his smooth glissade.
I rather enjoy being played.
With him I hope to have remained
in years to come. His love’s unfeigned.
Although I know at times he’s strayed,
I rather enjoy being played.
Dawn lit the horizon with soft golden light
as the sun swept the land with warm fingers.
I basked in the topaz gem's fire, burning bright.
It was the kind of morning when one lingers
on shore, watching waves playing over the sea
flowing with rhythmic cadence of a symphony.
July 25, 2022
Bite Size Poem no.50 Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Across our childhood’s street we trod
on carpet lawn and holy sod.
We walked along where some had prayed.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
The dead’s abodes we visited.
But times we ran and sometimes hid.
Such escapades by fancy made!
Where once we played, he now is laid.
Our bikes we’d ride on many a track
that wound around and further back.
A decade near this place I stayed.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
He left. We followed, each our way.
until the fateful sorry day
we all returned and farewells bade.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
Another decade passed, then two.
Cruel time -its passing how I rue.
My place for his I would not trade.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
*Dedicated to my brother Dale, who died much too young
and was buried across the street from our old family house
in a place called the Greenwood Cemetery, a very large one
where kids rode bikes and played. Well, at least WE did!
Running your fingers
over my delicately tuned form.
Blind. - You know which keys to press.
To enhance sweet music from me.
Happily and playfully,
my white notes singing love.
The darker side brings juxtaposed
moods and sadness,
pedalling drama and bitterness.
You know just how to play me.
Piranhas, within a canaries cannibal world....
Feasting upon the flesh, of another innocent and vulnerable life
Delivered by the hands of darkness' entrenched; unknowing but willing, messengers of woe!
In hopes of crippling and destroying, by means of ridicule, guilt and shame
The subtle and not so subtle, of the spiteful and scorned....
Chatterings like arrows, from their poisoned bows
Within comments and verse, and their opened air words
Always the same-looking for their entrance, to bring another to their knees
To evoke their own will? These amissfully mangled and subverse desires
Within, these shatteringly tainted dreams....
Relentlessly they search, for the Achilles heel, to crumble yet anothers hope!
Traveling through these mediums of morbids main, and fluttering hearts....
In through the side doors, and along the corridores, via way, of the shadowish mind
Enter the sublimes of deceivings presented, before all of Heavens sight!
While as half closed eyes stand in silence, all about, within muted watch....
Reminding myself of a case years ago; where a young girl was beaten, stabbed and murdered
As at least a dozen different people, cowered within their rooms
Amid her desperate cries, beggings and pleas for help; help, that would never arrive!?
So such it seems so very often, among many within this society in which we live....
Whom turn their backs and avert their glance; while bowing their heads, and walking on by
Back, into their own blackened holes!....(Cont)
he's been played...
hurt...
yet again
so he sits and wonders
what the f@#k to do
he's been looking for "THE ONE"
the right girl...
wifey material...
he's waiting for the one
that will love him for him...
for who he truely is....
will he ever find her...?
well......
if he would just look at whats right in front of him....
he'll be sure to find his girl....
Played The Safe Notes In My Lone Retreat
That fear was always darkness in disguise
A high cliff, a frail rope and my hanging.
Inspired hope not enough, word to the wise
Fear is darkness and roaring loud banging.
I played the safe notes in my lone retreat
Seeking warm meals to soothe my tepid soul.
Just barely enough sweet dessert to eat,
With that coward's safety as my main goal!
That fear was always darkness in disguise
My life was safe in it being so wild.
Living just one lousy day the grand prize
Safe comfort sadly sought like a small child!
Pray tell? Why show this discovery now?
Fear now defeated but I know not how.
Robert J Lindley, 1-25-2016
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 110
NOTE: Sonnet on why I was so damn wild as a
young man and wanting the world to kill me.
I fought it every damn day, fought people too.
Yet fate said no, you'll not get your wish to die young.
You will grow old and face that reality as well..
Ah, now I see-- world says we strike the last blow!
I stopped beside a mountain stream
An intruder in the realm
To watch a fiddler on a stone, then
A leaf with a cricket at the helm,
A fairy ship on a rabid course
Swirling in a raging sea
I reached to save the tiny crew
Their only God was me.
Listed 95 on PS Best Poems
February 23, 20212
You Played with my emotions
You Played with my life
you took away the only thing
i ever seemed to have
you used me and even abused me
you left me blinded and hopless
you betrayed me and rejected me
forgot the love i once gave you
Now days go by and i sitll remember
why cant i just seem to forget you
why does your name run through my brain
I dont know
bloddy tears seem to slip
they drip and fall and even poor down
Your name is not forgotten
now that i've brought it back to reality
i dont need you i never did
this was all pointless
it was all just a wast of time
i will love again
just not now
but forever i will stay
true to myself
Blues in the Night.
A malignant moon
shines his metallic claws -
combs my hair and brushes me forward.
I am alone in the shadowy crooks
of a poisoned metropolis.
A clandestine garbage chute -
where waifs and strays burn
within the fetid bowels
of a cavernous concrete underbelly.
The orphanage awaits my arrival,
as muted outcries are crushed
beneath my footsteps.
A parentless prison
teeters atop Utopia's dreaded brim;
the hamlet where Orwell slew Hilton.
St. Peter has been released
and no longer tends the kitchen.
Agony and angel wings reneged
a redundant brotherhood of sorts.
His recipe for remorse shall be missed.
Blues in the Night.
In the distance,
feigned epileptic outbursts
placates a patron's fears.
Caffeine injections
stimulates another's venial sins
as it magnifies their cardinal options.
An insomnious woman converses
with a napkin holder. The surface
is dull and unreflective, like she.
Banter never-to-be heard
by her never-to-be gentleman caller.
I am home –
amongst the dead I adore.
A haggard waitress serves me a menu.
A laminated journal stained
with melancholy and mustard.
Desolation and demi-tasse
are tonight’s midnight special.
Ten cents additional, if you order deluxe.
Blues in the Night.
I twiddle my thumbs
for I have no other’s to borrow.
I catch my rugged reflection
in the asylum’s window.
I espy my counterpart again
in a twisted spoon -
realizing I’m three utensils short
from a grievous quartet salted
with Mack Sennett misfits.
A collection of dishes clatter
above the sanatorium’s jukebox.
I place my spoon on the counter
and pick up a lifeless knife.
I envy its potential and possibilities
as Woody Herman croons
in the background.
Eyes glued to screen
Ignore homework of teacher
Down load video game
Some rich becomes a tycoon
Cost younger generation
For the Video Game Played contest of Yasmin Khan
I'm playing with golf ace Tiger Woods
It’s raining, so we pull up our hoods
Tiger misses the green -
Then shouts words so obscene
He just cannot deliver the goods!
N/A in Name Dropper Contest Judged 13/10/17
Sponsored by Kevin Shaw
Submitted to Another 2017 Stunner
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Checked with Rhymezone and how many syllables 9,9,6,6,9
09-15-17
Once was a folk singer back in the sixties
It was surely my time to shine
Along with the great Peter Paul and Mary
They seemed like good friends of mine
A group of six, The Canadiana Folksingers
Appeared on Canadian TV
A couple of albums and two or three shows
Played banjo, sure looked geeky
Hi Jolly was our biggest success
Wherever we went they clamoured for it
Did I tell you Bruce played a one string bass
It added some charm I'll admit
Wife Linda was one of the two girl singers
Sure prettied up the group I'll say
Didn't make much money but that didn't matter
The joy hasn't left to this day
Not everyone can say they were part of a group
Twas a very special time in my life
Wish I could go back and relive it again
A great time for me and my wife
© Jack Ellison 2015
There was a cat who played piano,
And the story I tell is true,
But he wouldn't play for me,
And he wouldn't play for you.
He played only for the dog,
Who thought it a hilarious sight,
But the cat played only for him,
And he only played at night.
The neighbors were quite puzzled,
For it was very late, you see,
But the cat cared not at all,
For he had nowhere to be.
So the cat walked up and down,
On those keys so gently,
And quite on purpose, and not accidentally.
The dog wagged his tail, when cat outstretched his paws,
And they both enjoyed the concert, to only dog's applause.