Best Ramps Poems
Spotted Fawn and I
I whispered quietly to you, just a foot away
"I am not here to harm you, just gathering
wild ramps on this limestone bluff" curled up
next to a beach tree, one eye peaking at me
near the ground, ears alert, you lay so peacefully
enrobed in golden fur with brilliant ivory spots!
I will never see you again, dear one, but I know
I will always remember your ebony eye looking
at me revealing the wonders of our universe,
for that I am in your gratitude.
As I moved away, she gently lifted to spindly
legs & effortlessly hopped away, leaving me
alone on the bluff, tired, weak, a bit dizzy
from effort, filled with solitary silence, inner
peace I only feel after talking with animals
in the wild, knowing I belong.
Corona virus sent to try us
Unnerve Confuse deplete divide us
It comes to scare it comes to kill
The vulnerable the old and ill
It spreads it’s panic it spreads it’s fear
It’s harsh unjust mortal ,severe
Dark and viscous it seeks and thrives
Culling the weak ending lives
Misery uncertainty you cannot comprehend
Deviant Inimical it’s aim is to offend
It feels like a movie it feels like a dream
Locked down and scared I want to scream
Fear of the doorbell fear of the street
Fear of the people I once used to meet
Fear for the loved ones I cannot be near
Fear of the virus fear of the fear
War is atrocious but the enemy’s clear
But the Invisible virus will never appear
It’s in the air it’s on the ground
On things you touch it’s all around
it seeks and finds the weak and old
And suffocates until their cold
It has no conscience no concerns
It feeds and thrives it lives and learns
Destroys and ruins breaks and hates
Silently it decimates
It Spreads so fast it’s hard to cope
There is no cure there’s only hope
It deals in death as it passes by
No comfort for the ones who die
Annihilation? is it’s mission
It needs no help or no permission
A wake of tears and misery
Is the only trace it leaves to see
Its pray is helpless and will not know
Until it’s time for them to go
Hungry for another soul
It now ramps up The human cull
Seas and borders no protection
The world now waits for its infection
A tiny mist of human breath
Will make you ill or cause your death
So hide away beyond detection
Spare your kisses your affection
Hide so you may be ok
And live to fight another day
Hide so there will always be
A hope for our humanity
It will not relent There is no cure
So Stay indoors and lock your door
Spare your touch and wash your hands
Observe the rules advice and bans
Save your kisses save your hug
And we will beat this deadly bug
People are struggling to live
Farms with green grass roof
An old-fashioned mower
The daylight set the time
Milk bucket on ramps
Potatoes and fish four days a week
Maybe you're thinking :
Charming and maybe a little rusty
But : I remember the simplicity
Longing and nostalgia
My happy childhood
As a balm for the soul
A place I danced barefoot
The old memories make me both sad,
humble and happy
So strange ...
it feels like yesterday
Days that collect dust
But before we know it
it's old memories
I feel privileged
and enjoy the taste of a bygone era
By following the tracks back
On the narrow gravel road
Today another era ~ the circle is closed
22.04.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
On our ancestral road of graceful peace
The mist of long-lost summers seems to crest,
Adorning ferns with a beauty of their own
While mellow nightfall glints without request.
On curving ramps where garlands twirl at ease
To softly swell like a bird’s heaving breast
And unknowingly, time forgets to count
The rituals of asphalt memories.
Along hued leaves rustling in a parade
That glimmer through the branches of elm trees,
As if some painting an old artist made
From visions of kinship, the same road flows.
And curling from the lane, a deep red rose
Blooms like my youth which never means to fade.
Kelly Deschler's Just Down The Road
by nette onclaud
Filling the breeze going through your hair
Hitting the ramps and getting air
Grinding the rails and riding around
Listen to your wheels what a wonderful sound
Doing heelflips,kickflips and pop shuvits too
I could never find anything else to do
Sidewalks and skate parks;
Old swimming pools drained.
Kickflips and split lips;
young ankles sprained.
Aerials and Varials
and being called a punk.
Tail taps and grip tape;
and tricks that take *****.
Exercise that is ramped up;
balance in a curve.
Backflips and Bearings
now don't loose your nerve!
Ollies and wallplants
it's no passing fad.
acid drops and nosestalls
Not just boys being bad!
Ramps under carports
and falling and pain.
Daring and doing tricks
again and again
Inclines; expression
and Five Oh grinds
Nollies and ledges
and friendship that Binds.
Go away Mr. Policemen: Just let us be.
Skateboarding is not a crime!
So let us Skate free!
Chairs lined with stripes,
green and white,
became ski jump ramps
for feelings, innocent and pure,
taking off from the edge
hoping to defy the gravity of fears.
Only a lucky few made it,
others turned into tears
landing on the grass of Green Park
as the warm air was getting dark.
Poor old Mazda has now
gone to the graveyard in the sky.
There was nothing they could do
for her, no matter how hard they tried.
We only had her for a year,
Taking her away almost brought a tear.
Up the ramps and off she went,
Going wherever she was sent.
Probably to be melted down into a can of baked beans,
The end of all her hopes and dreams.
My Most Embarrassing Moment?
Twice I’ve entered freeways
On the ramps meant just for exits.
Lordy! How embarrassing is that?
Except nobody knew me
And with little difficulty
I remedied those situations fast!
Twice or thrice I walked into
Restrooms meant for men.
But no one saw me, or, once again,
Nobody knew me.
I got off lucky.
But there was one time
I did it at a pool.
Without my contacts in,
I might as well have just been blind.
I think the guy I walked in on was naked then.
But he did not know me (Saved again!)
Another time, at age fourteen,
I hopped around the yard, a silly teen
Sitting on a big fat ball -
Called Hippity Hop. I took a fall
In front of my new boyfriend.
I split my pants; he didn’t even tell me,
But once I learned what I had done,
That ended our romance!
I ‘m sure I pulled more stunts than that
Through all my years of school.
But being such an airhead
I simply have to say,
My most embarrassing moment -
Whatever it may be -
I don’t recall it anyway!
People travel me from far and wide
Cars, vans, trucks, people inside
Going places around the globe
I help them on my open road
Winding up and down the hills
Some stop to see ocean spills
Police surveying people’s speed
So, the traveler’s better take heed
I have ramps for people to exit their space
Of final destination or resting place
I am the highway that has some strife
Looking for my exit to start a new life
If I could find it, I could begin again
Just like these travelers when they come to their end.
©Holly P. Moore
December 2012
It's just too goo to be true,
in a crazy little crew,
drawing the ramps up,
dynamic slapstick-
always having food as thought,
the pummel on row,
which is 9000ft straight towards physical steal;
entered into a falsehood-
through made gravity stick,
and unleash the past!
Every loop an iron cross,
all dishes lost,
the accident,
the belonging,
On-
Time,
a relief rafter,
trapped her in a bastard-
livin' lavish though,
lacked her plaster!
I' reddemmed, but inside of your calculator...
Ready or not it's just like your liked NOT to come,
ingenious or not, it's indigenous laughter to rum.
At the end of my tunnel I use to see the light.
It was built not with rock but with thick vines green and bright.
I could see my path it was there I always walked,
sometimes I would sit and think, listen as plants talked.
Sweet peas, marigolds and pansies were at my side,
I lived my life with friends in who I would confide.
The air was scented in sachets rare,
coloured in muted tones stripped down bare.
Growing above me were angel lamps,
also gorgeous dahlias, on the ramps.
I remember in the large blue pond, a rare pair of two toned swans,
while below the weeping willow, an almost sleeping chipmunk yawns.
Convergent ladybugs clustering for warmth on the ground,
drifting leaves acted like an ocean wave just to confound.
Back then switched on lights would decorate the night sky with stars
but now alarms sound as they shut me down behind these bars.
22~10~2014
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest Name:Pick a Title
Yesterdays Joys
My heart beats faster with exciting
Realistic fantastic things to do
Technology at hand I can login
From wherever I find myself
So I can do my work on the move
Meet with friends and chit-chat
Have a quick bite to eat
Walk the ramps of life
Be at the office
Blessed with so much energy
My hectic schedule requires me
To be here and there simultaneously
Too little hours in the day
I’m making waves
To get all to play the game of being
Released in to the world
No blinkers
Meeting poets from across the globe
Posting in over sixty groups
Part of admin in two
I’m simply a busy bee
On the move
25:02:13
Off beat bike ramps
And a screaming grandfather that is not my own
Across a street with no name,
A boy sits on a stucco stoop,
With rocks in hand, aimed for my future
I ran away, or rather
Rode away on my bike
Around the block and grounded
Downstairs, an old lady
Appropriately named Clementine, for she was so sweet
A black and white floor for two little girls
Me being one of them, you being the other
I mistook Tom for my father once
And cried when my real one cut his hair
Scattered are the memories
But memorable nonetheless
large yellow diesel machines coughed
coughed thick black smoke, caught their breath
struggled convulsively and after a series of loud farts
assorted groans and mechanical creaks
lumbered like broken old men waiting to pee.
Oh, they worked that day, from sun up till the orange red sky was upon them
shivering in the cold dark desert sand
parked together like defenseless tadpoles,
shaking and quivering in the damp night air,
their job done for another day.
Building what, sand ramps, that's what.
From nowhere to nowhere!
another notch in the creative history
duly recorded for potentates from the east
who understand & see cows in the sky
or not so pretty women with tight green skirts
whores, dirty mattresses and rats
who love the companionship
of pencil pushing addicts alcoholics
and assorted beasts of the mind
Squalor is the key here
rub your nose in crap is the meaning of their sage advice
promulgated by the ass kissing majority
who worship at the altar of mendacity
after all, they were at M.I.T. and were bored.
Who gives a shtt! Publish, it must mean something
If it doesn' they were the first to do it!
Eat flesh and die. Filthy flesh at that,
hardly fine dining, but that's another story.
Goodbye for now.