Best Pow Poems
My wife is a poet and I am not,
She creates with her pen, I use robot!
She doesn’t know the truth,No! not a hint,
I don’t look in her eyes, lest reads a glint!
She picks topics at random to challenge,
by night ready poetry is for exchange,
if she wins, in different room I stay,
If I win, wow, wow! then I have my way!!
many topics she chose every Sunday,
to keep me away from favourite play!
many times came close to losing, oh, my!
If I had not used my friend, the AI!
Every evening she reads her’s with passion,
With certainty of win, no compassion!
It is then in slow slow voice I read mine,
so far the AI has worked, all is fine!!
So then, those of you, who hate the AI,
I say to you, What is it to you? Why?
If not for the robot who helps me out,
I will be sleeping alone, have no doubt!
< cakes and sausages on hot griddle
uncle Leroy's dam dog just piddled
slipped ~ slide across floor
grabbed shotgun by front door
now dam ole dog just plays an fiddle
bow bow bow bow bow bow bow bow ~ wow
ow ow ow ow ow ow ow bow ~ ow
with tail between own ~ legs
now dog sings ~ and ~ brags
about cousin's daisies's bad bow ~ pows
Entry For John Freeman's
Slapstick Limerick Contest
Gl All
Poor Ole Dog LOL
People of God
Our steps are ordered
Walk in your path
1-30-11
POW – MIA
Grandma, when Grandpa went to Vietnam
And left you at home alone
Did you ever think he wouldn't return
And be forever gone
No, dear I thought he'd be back
And never leave again
But that crazy war in Vietnam
Was one we couldn't win
Well, Grandma, where is he now
Is he still fighting the war
Will he ever come home to be with us
Why did he go so far
My child your Grandpa had to go
And fight for freedom's sake
But he won't be coming home again
And that's so hard to take
But Grandma, if he's not coming home
Why did he have to stay
I'd like to see Grandpa again
So he and I could play
Well, son I'm sorry to tell you this
There is no other way
Your Grandpa may be a prisoner of war
Or what the Army calls MIA
Well, why is he in prison
Did he commit a crime
I don't understand, Grandma
It's been a long, long time
Yes, dear, you're right, it's been so very long
Since Grandpa went away
But all the love he gave to us
Is with us every day
You're right Grandma
He really did love us all
He had to go to Vietnam
To answer his country's call
My child you are so very wise
And one day you'll understand
Your Grandpa had to go and fight
For the freedom of our land
Grandma, I love you so
And I'll never go away
I won't leave you home alone
Home is where I'll stay
Thank you dear, that's very kind
But Grandma will be alright
I love you too
God is my guiding light
He's my light too, just like Grandpa said
He's always by our side
He helps us every day
And dries the tears we've cried
Curtis Moorman
June 17, 2011
pow(x,y)
You can create a function to relate
the value of x raised to power y.
One clever way to exponentiate
is to repeat a simple multiply.
If y is zero, just return a one—
for ev’ry number, that will be the case.
And when y equals one, your work is done—
the answer will be x, your starting base.
For ev’ry other value y can be,
just multiply by x, recursively.
MEMORIAL DAY TRIBUTE
POW OR MIA.
God be with them in a special way.
Protect these loved ones.
From their captors hate.
Make a way for their escape.
Reveal the cause that hides their fate.
If with You , we'll have to wait.
Tell them we'll meet, by the pearly gates.
God rest their souls till judgement day.
Where you'll take all pain and tears away.
Let the flags wave high! Till Johnny's home.
In our heart's you're never alone.
POW OR MIA.
God be with them in a special way.
When I was a teenager I felt like I was a POW
and when I got some freedom I went MIA
and Dad would be waiting to ground me OMG
but when the chain was off I would be gone ASAP
knowing what would happen, oh yeah I would be DOA
as Dad was yelling (I was thinking KISS)
you see in those days I was a FF
and this would repeat itself SALT
but I learned in time that Dad loved me, LOL
and I loved him too, BTW
there were not enough days with him IMO.
Daddy RIP!
______________________
March 15, 2021
Poetry/Verse/POW
Copyright Protected, ID 03-
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Inspired by L. Milton Hankins Contest, but not for his contest.
*FF - frequent flyer
*SALT - same as last time
* IMO- in my opinion
Green fluorescent glow
lights up his cell
bombs explode intermittently
leaving mushroom clouds
The POW of my heart
the POW of my soul
digs deep a hole
I cannot explain,
do not push it,
don't push or I shall show you Hell
I'll give you a war that you wouldn't believe
to hear is one
but to live horror is another.
To snap the heart in two like a stick
and try to put it together with glue
appreciate death as it comes closer to you;
I push and you pull
we dance a game of tug of war
and go there and here and over there and anywhere,
but we run in fright
in the night
and we look at each other and pay no mind,
not knowing anything about life before death.
The POWs of society rip away at edges of cigarette packs
and drink clear beer from gutters and laugh at death,
but when it comes to your door
we cry and ask why...
POW! Right on the Kisser!/b>
In my best dreams you plant one (POW! Right on the kisser!)
but not with your fists, my dear, war’s touch is fiercer
than lips I aspire to, and tastes more like passion, chance given,
poor heart so enraptured by glances. By mercies I’m riven,
feel hog-tied and gagged in your presence, my soul ice,
blood boils (at the same time), mind locked - is this paradise?
Will life’s end know the answer, must blood pay for verdict?
Is love on God’s path for my life? Am I addict
just looking for hit, hooked on smack? Place reserved at Love’s table,
a chance I’ll be chosen to join who sits there? As I’m able
(dear loved ones) I’ll save seats for you! Christ’s the soul’s hope,
His Grace said, “sufficient for all!” (If faith saves that’s dope)!
Brian Johnston
November 18th in 2022
The concrete and plastic, chrome domed
bricked up auditorIum rang
like a hollow bell,
a meager few red skins circle the stadium seats
like smoke from a mythical “peace” pipe
ragged, distilled, diluted, distraught, “dised”
A 21st century ablution of angst.
Round shoulders meet, sidelong glances;
old and young form for dances.
All semblance of nature betrayed
by polyester tassels and cheap Crayola yarn fringe,
a sneakers and moccasins mix,
only the whistle-drum, and sage smoke sanctifies.
Circles form, crouching over polyurethane floors
silver hair, braids and hands harden; they bear,
bore the “dis” missive, disdain,
the balm of music eased all the pain.
Round shoulders meet, sidelong glances;
old and young form for dances.
The roof “dis” appears becomes the night sky
air vibrates with the heart thumping of stick on skin,
and so WE, the PEOPLE begin.
Chants warm the taunt throats of man;
a whistle trills the coyotes howl.
Heartbeat sings a drum song,
bowed and bent the circle dancers form.
Stomp, twirl, braids a whirl, winged dancers rattle and bell.
Mans peacock form no longer forlorn rises above the well.
Chant the tell tale heart,
the sorrow the joy, drum thumpers hatchets fall
on the neck of a starry night.
Drum and dance invite…..
scream,….soul song, smoke dream,
eyes daze in a reverent scheme.
The exoplanet council's having a pow-wow
Where are those amateur astronomers now
We've lost track of their telescopes
Have all those earthlings given up hope
Optimistic that our lifeforms will soon be discovered
Guess we'll have to wait 'til folks down there recover
There in jail a pow camp, Name good and its cold WAR
Nixon agents name good, and Cold war goes on andon
Iraq Vietnam, Koren, sleeping with the Devil in Blue
Jeans and Soldiers is fair jane, is it fair well yes ,
war isn't fair, Nixon men did America proud and yes
the cold war goes on, and John Hokins hospital has
Doctors of far away, that sit by a apple tree and we
sit by a cherry tree, 2007, they are using the newspaper
to but weapon coming in after hours to destory us
not drugs but weapons export and inport not drugs
but weapons, coming in to well the cold war goes
on and on they are trying to break our economy
with talk of virus and food sickness not true its
virus or flu. give it away free to me
Bah! The sound of quelled cries
Tempered timbers tales and ties.
Malevolence, mischievous
Mine heart; mine lives.
Serendipitous meetings
With resounding sighs, of life.
Quaff strange brews
In still stranger sties.
Careful wispers
around still stranger allies.
Lashings! oh, still the burnt
Back bleeds red.
I heard from one and his tale
As an old head had no recourse
To lead mine heart unto dread.
Under fence and over wood,
Through jagged metal teeth,
Across yon' wall, through yon' mall.
Providence with waving arm there stood.
But with every syllable and poetic
Jaunt he did reveal clear enough.
Did I see a mere killer on the tower
A demon in the rough.
Was I to truckle this life long dead?
The thought of purgatory
Weighed heavy my old head.
Remembrances of home, of wife, and bed.
So grabbed I my worldly worth,
My soul should I fall short,
My hilt I furnished from a dinner spoon
And my kills I gave to the Lord.
I ran in night , scratched and did I get bit.
I slammed through jungle and dark of night.
Dark eyes seemed to always be peering,
But many days were the rest of my flight.
Hello Sweetie, where have you been
It's way too long since we cuddled
How's bout making up for lost time tonight
Make my brain all befuddled
I'll make the first move, my love of loves
Then you'll show me your feminine guile
Remember how it always made me cross my eyes
Then I'd become mute for a while
Can't wait to experience that feeling again
Bet you're still damn good with your digits
Howling in unison as we writhe away
Screams of exultation were emitted
Then POW, WHAMMO, that ultimate feeling
Only you, sweet thing, can unleash
As we drift off into a night of sheer splendour
And dine on a sexual feast
© Jack Ellison 2014