Best Prided Poems
I like to think that Daddy's gold watch chain,
and the way it came about,
was the true story of "The Magi",
that O. Henry had mixed it up a little and changed it,
as sometimes happens.
I remember it, his beautiful chain,
heavy and each link engraved with dainty leaves.
Each of us had played with it,
pulling from his pocket, the heavy, silver-plated watch it guarded,
just to hear it tick.
I didn't know it then of course,
it was the gold chain that Daddy prided,
not the watch..
He could have bought a dozen of those at any store,
but never another chain so fine.
I wish I had asked, I don't know how it came about
that Mama turned her linked, gold bracelet
into a chain for Daddy.
See it there, draping her gloved hand
in their wedding picture?
Somehow, they never told us private things,
so busy making a good life for all of us.
We were his treasures the seven of us
and Mama and her auburn hair.
Then came the beloved chain.
I like to think it was that first sweet Christmas,
when they were still alone,
that she loved him enough to have
her treasured bracelet altered and
surprised him with her gift.
He wore a leather thong to
hold his watch on weekdays.
Only on Sundays or other times
when he put on his suit, he proudly
added the prized chain.
That's how it happened that the chain was
on the dresser in their bedroom
when the fire started.
Daddy was still on the farm and Mama and we younger ones
had moved to town for the winter
It was so cold, the fire engines couldn't come.
Daddy came by sled in time
to carry the loved library table out.
It was too late and the flames too hot,
to save much else.
I have that table now, my precious heirloom.
Daddy searched the ashes of our home
as soon as they had cooled.
I saw the tears when he told Mama,
"The gold watch chain is gone."
Written 9/11/10
Entered in contest Old Jewelry,
or Just Old Things,
or Old, Old, Poetry.
Perhaps Peter Piper did not pick a peck of pickled peppers,
Perchance Peter purloined them.
Peter's pretext for pickled peppers puts people at ease,
Pickpocket's ploy personified.
Personalizing praise for Peter's pesky presumption,
People put Peter's penchant for peppers praiseworthy.
Perhaps, Peter pretended to pick the peck of pickled peppers,
People should portend where Peter put the peck he picked.
Peter passed plenty of peppers to people,
Personifying Peter and his peck.
Prided peppers purloined or in a pepper peck,
Peter put in his pants pockets.
I SALUTE THEE,OH MY GREAT SENSE,
YES MY SENSE OF FORGIVENESS,
IN FURY AND PAIN,IN INNOCENCE AND TRUTH,
I HAVE FORGIVEN THEE,
IN THE ART OF RESPECT AND IN THE HOPE OF HEALING,
I HAVE FORGIVEN ,
JOURNEYING THROUGH INDIFFERENCE,HATRED AND OVERBEARING
INSOLENCE,I HAVE FACED,HOPED AND EVEN FEARED FOR MY SPRING TO
COME,
I HAVE SEALED MY LIPS IN DEEP SILENCE AND WAITED SECRETLY,
I HAVE SUFFERED QUITELY,
I HAVE SEARCHED ENDLESSLY,
I HAVE STAYED FRIGID AND COLD JUST BECAUSE I REFUSE TO BREAK,
REFUSE TO YEILD TO THE CRUEL AND UNJUSTIFIED CHAINS OF THE
VICIOUS CIRCLE THAT SURROUND ME,
I STAND ALONE,
FACING ALL,EVEN IN THE MIDST OF THE UNCONCIOUS GLOOM AND COLD
DEFEAT,
HATING ALL,BUT SMILING,
YES INSANITY BUT BEING ALIVE,
I REMEMBER THOSE DARK NIGHTS CLOUDED WITH HAUNTING FEARS,
WHEN I CRIED LIKE AN ANGEL,
AND GOD ANSWERED MY PRAYERS,
I COULD FEEL A LIGHT BURNING INSIDE ME THEN,
YES A LIGHT OF WISDOM AND FAITH,
I KNEW THEN AS I PAINFULLY AND WITH DIFFICULTY UNDERSTAND NOW,
THAT TO REACH MY HEAVEN I REALLY HAVE TO FACE THE CONSEQUENCIES
THAT THIS MORTAL NATURE OF MAN DISPALYES UPON ME,
I WILL HAVE TO FIGHT,FACE AND SOMETIMES HEAR,
THE DECEIT,THE INJUSTICES,THE JEALOUSIES,
THE CORRUPTION OF TRUTH,
AND I WILL LIVE THROUGH EVERYTHING,
I HAVE LEARNED TO FORGIVE THE BITTERNESS IN LIFE,
I SAVE MYSELF FROM DEFEAT,
I KNOW I WILL SURVIVE TO REACH THE BEST,
BECAUSE GOD WHISPERS HOPE INSIDE OF ME,
COURAGE TOO,THAT IS MY PRIDED SHIELD.
Making the In-Laws Welcome
By Elton Camp
“Visiting will be my sister & her mate Jim.
Penny warned, “Fred, you be nice to them.”
“Maybe they should stay at a hotel,
But still see that you treat them well.”
Fred prided himself on his guile
So he tried to hide an evil smile
For he knew just what he’d do
So their visit they would rue
In came the sister and her jerk
While Penny was still at work
“The guest room you can settle in
Afterward, our visit can begin.”
Fred led the way down the staircase
The guest room was a total disgrace
The dingy basement had no light
And the two old cots were a fright
His sister-in-law let out a yell
The two hurried to the hotel
Penny got home, looking for them
“Where’s sister and her man Jim?”
“A room they decided they’d rent.
Back soon, but it’s where they went.”
“I tried to get them to stay with us,
They said it would be too much fuss.”
I've always prided myself on being a “smart feller”
But sometimes it gets twisted and I say “fart smeller”
Quite good at that too
Sometimes blow off my shoes
Pretty sure the odour has reached interstellar
© Jack Ellison 2015
PRIDE
I went in search of pride
When I found her; she was so proud of herself
She prided herself about like a peacock
I told her the humble truth of life
Pride, you need to get down from your high shoes
Only then can you realize that which you haven't realized
The ground on which you stand is not a levelled ground
This ground you stand on is only a stepping ground to a higher ground
Right now, you see it as a ground higher than mount Everest
Your pride deceives you; you are standing on a ground below sea level.
She is just a girl
She is in herself a self acclaimed goddess
She likes to be in control of everything
When there is nothing else to control; she controls herself
Though not good at it; herself controls her
Pride gets the best out of her; humility is her slave
She is drowning in an ocean of fantasy and doesn't want to shout for help
She doesn't want to get real with reality
She is too comfortable to be uncomfortable in her comfortable comfort
Your pride deceives you; you are living an uncomfortable life.
He is just a boy
He is in himself a self acclaimed god
He likes to be in control of everything
When there is nothing else to control; he controls himself
Though not good at it; himself controls him
Pride gets the best out of him; humility is his slave
He is drowning in an ocean of fantasy and doesn't want to shout for help
He doesn't want to get real with reality
He is too comfortable to be uncomfortable in his comfortable comfort
Your pride deceives you; you are living an uncomfortable life.
Lordvip
I killed a man. Took his life, he lives no more.
Watching his lifeless body, prone, lying on the floor.
How should I feel? So many emotions fill my brain.
It was so quick, just one blow removed him from this plane.
Murder! just a word but the act itself carries such weight.
Such a heinous crime. It should be harder to seal one's fate.
I always prided myself with being a person of fine moral standing.
To hold onto my freedom, forged in the fires of Hades, I was demanding.
From debtors prison to transportation.
Betrayed by the government of my beloved nation.
Shipwrecked and marooned before arrival.
I set my mind to my very survival.
The secrets of my past internment, this Galoot threatened to expose.
Blackmail, extortion, to seal his lips with the truth only he knows.
Now the manacles which once bound my hands and feet,
replaced by fetters on my conscience, shackled by my grievous deed.
To the gallows I will never submit or succumb.
My freedom bought with luck, misfortune and bitterly won.
Flee again I must. Yet another new life I will secure.
I will leave my mark on this land, for my generations to procure.
always prided herself on
what she believed to be the
“right way to live,”
standing up straight, abiding
by the rules, going to church,
paying her parking ticket on
time, doing her 9 to 5 gig every
monday thru friday, always
on her soapbox & always
having it easy cause’ she never
got her morality put to the
test.
her favorite cousin asked her
to come visit the city &
though inside she was a bit
reluctant, she hadn’t seen her
cousin for such a long time &
the summer was the time for
having a little fun anyway
(so she told herself), so the
hop on the Amtrak was quick &
lo & behold, she arrived at
Penn Station
round 4:00 pm.
that night they went out on the
town, the group of them &
when crossing the street she
heard a scream---it was shrill
& short, as if it had quickly been
muffled---
looking in the direction of where
it had been coming from,
she saw with her very own eyes
a man repeatedly striking a
young woman in the face, whilst
yelling at her in between the blows---
they were more like hard slaps than
punches, but the sound that they made
she swore that she could hear them
over the sound of the cars & the
crowds.
while her friends continued to walk
as if nothing was happening, she
found herself slowing down &
as she watched the scene unfold,
it was over in real time much quicker
than the delay in her brain,
which seemed to vibrate in sync with
the increasingly rapid thump of her
heart.
Brick after Brick
Imported and plastered with
paste made from tasteless
waste; words of scorn
Day after sun-baked day
dried and hardened,
trusted to hold
this tower of insecurities;
behind the wall,
that you have built
A strong foundation; certain
to withstand the brick's
weight of prided mistrust
and others which you
hold strong to
No planned windows,
designs of doors...
safe and secure from those
that may seek entrance
of such a guarded place
Even the unexpected crispness
of the cool evening breeze
is left to wail outside
persuading fresh air
be allowed in
An unseen force,
guided by the subconscious;
so subtle, yet determined
knocks loose a precious brick
secured within
its boundary of fear
Squinting, as the blinding sun
creeps in and takes over
the dark places that hide
you from life
Brick after Brick
Building you up
tearing down your once
precious wall
They made death a saint
With their sword and powder
As they butchered her silly;
Her sweet bean was their bile.
Rudely they moved their razor
To the natural point she ever prided
And slashed it like carrot
Her cone they laid on another tatters;
Massaging their pride with her sinless blood.
Then they brought out their ageless gourd
And poured out their satanic powder
Upon her bleeding scar -
Like spice on their bar-be-cue.
Though loudly she cried,
The mean were not samarithan.
I never bend, but I had to,
Her to understand I had to.
Revoking my life’s firm resolve,
Spoil a pushy friend I had to.
She came as if from nowhere-land,
My all to her lend I had to.
I always had walked my own ways,
Go the way cats wend, I had to.
I could stand no cats in my life,
But seeing her mend I had to.
I often find her in the wrong,
Yet, to defend her I had to.
I prided me as my own man,
Bend to her command I had to.
_____________________
Ghazal |25.01.2023| cat, humour, she, wife
Poet’s note: When a pussy cat became a pushy pat in my house…. But wait, a pussy cat or a pushy girl or wife in one’s life, it makes little difference and matters little for this tongue-in-cheek ghazal.
I never read it,
the way it was written
I never wrote it,
the way it should read
The lines connected,
were for me to be broken
A lesson once ending,
is where I began
I spoke out of time,
out of place…out of line
I wrote what I saw,
once the future was gone
I prided myself,
in a vision self nurtured
Asking permission for nothing,
—and forgiveness for less
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February,2017)
I
Yours is a mystery no mortal man can comprehend,
and your name which I mistook for my sister's, is a riddle
that would remain unsolved…
I have searched and searched within the recesses of my heart
since we parted at the crossroads
to know why my heart suddenly fell
like a fly into the spider's web, like a creditor's call
on a debtor's door,
like rain on a sunny day for you (a stranger)
on our first coincidental meeting,
and why it never stopped falling…
II
Weird as it seems,
the resonance of your soft contralto voice
lingers in my head
as if it were moments ago, and I feel
the reverberations against the daunting din
of the crowd that encompassed us…
The image of your slim black body stands in my mind's eyes
like slender palm on a bar beach,
and the perfect projections on your comely face
reminds me of my mother in her prime
when maidens prided in the sanctity
of their innocence
and thinking of you lulls me to sleep, to daydream
youthful dreams of her
in whose shadows I weaned…
Doyin! Lightfooted archer* on the wings of fate-
the suppleness of your black skin and your matchless manners
are true reflections of your untainted roots,
and the playfulness in your cultured tongue exalts you
amongst the silken daughters of Eve
(and are mere reminiscences of our first meeting)
How can I define your superlative beauty in verse?
III
Doyin, you are not one of my sisters, you are not my mother's daughter
yet, since we parted at the crossroads,
I have been in despair longing for the overwhelming ambience
of your sisterly warmth,
to hear the sound of your tender voice resonate
in my head down to my heart,
to feel the enlivening breath of your inner bowels,
to rest beneath the sheltering canopy of your hair, and
be enlightened by the magic splendour
of your bespectacled eyes…
Doyin, I long to bridge this river between us
to reach the enchanting realm of your refreshing countenance
and dwell therein within
the friendly fountains of your heart.
But since we parted at the crossroads,
and you went your way while I stood watching,
the image of your fetching figure
lodges in the chambers of my heart like a golden fleece
IV
And why my heart suddenly fell for you
I cannot tell…
Was it for your fetching figure or matchless manners?
I still cannot tell
I leave it to fate…
Come, lay thy kisses on my body
A sacred tribute be thy sweat
Exalt my each and every chord
Oh spike, deep thrusted in my being
Will be my torment but a hoist
Oh, sweetened poison without cure
You kneel me inescapably
Slave-made from cold and prided king
I search for you without a speck of judgement
Ferocious hidden hunger is desire
I burn, just feeling lacking thoughts
You abet me and still remain apart
And in my blinded thirst you have no face
See just the us that could've been
Am left with crying bleeded heart
Lorn bleakly by the like's dearth
My prayer goes for complete oblivion
Will wash away thy smell and haunt
No fire burns in touch deprived flesh
Come, wait thus for our spell to end.
What just happened yesterday
Must have been dreaming I guess
Met an beautiful stunning young lady
Left me in a helluva mess
Always thought I was in total control
But she knocked me back on his ass
Can't believe her feminine guile
A totally gorgeous lass
Always prided myself in keeping cool
But exceptions still do happen
If you'd asked me a couple of days ago
This scenario I couldn't imagine
Just goes to show you, my dear, dear friends
No one's immune to the love bug
You could be as old as a hundred and six
And it still affects you like a drug
Don't get me wrong, I ain't complaining
This is what love's all about
It belts you hard on the side of the head
And all you wanna do is shout!
© Jack Ellison 2013