Best Ranged Poems
( Repost )
Somehow, her eyes expand with the disobedient sky
and there, she senses urchins filling water on the lake
her feet and thighs slide up changing hues,
with receding incarnations of the moon.
She bends down gazing at images on the lake
as limbs turn into seaweeds, a mermaid in pain
changing hues in the crystal white of sky…
and the moon with slices of split mirrors burn
on wiggles of unscented tresses in water.
She dips her hands to catch the sleek tail in a plunge
knowing not a word to describe the reflection on the lake,
and witness the need to flow randomly in its
entrance through the expanse of one silver sky…
trying to recover glimpses reflected in the water.
Without point of reference to unknown images,
she vaguely remembers how transparently liquid
the changing hues of the moon become watery
like a hint of coagulated blood on a mermaid’s lake...
and the laughter of the sky drips into imaginings.
.......................................
* Written for a fantasy contest that was discontinued;
its theme required entrants to describe one's mirrored
image of the self. Few comments ranged from " Nice, but I
didn't get it" to " You seemed to have overused the word
"water?" In hindsight, I asked myself," what
were you thinking? This is sloppy!"
Jerry T Curtis' This Poem S***s Contest
My abiding memory of 2015 is of events that are so sad
With my father’s death, it’s the worst year I’ve ever had
It has been the most challenging year for me
But with amazing support I remain pretty happy
I don’t want to dwell on events that have past
My memories of the year 2015 will always last
I want to leave the year on a humourous note
With a true tale of a gift that didn’t get my vote!
Mum and I went out to a local church fete
It’s very well attended and the raffle is great
We perused all the stalls and brought a few things
I got some lemon cake and some brand new earrings
The raffle stall bulged with wonderful prizes
With boxes that ranged in all shapes and sizes
One pretty white gift box really caught my eye
Four ‘Dior’ perfume miniatures for a lady to try
We brought some tickets then sat and drank tea
I said to mum, I’ve seen just the prize for me
The raffle got drawn and mum’s ticket was pulled out
I collected the prize of Dior perfume without a doubt
Mum told me I could have it as a Christmas gift
I was overjoyed and it gave my heart a huge lift
The gift box was placed under our little tree
Its pretty gold ribbon was there for all to see
I didn’t open the box on Christmas Day
Until Boxing Day the pretty box did stay
We were going out to friends later that night
I thought my new perfume would be just right
Taking the pretty white box from under the tree
I pondered which scent would be perfect for me
Upon lifting the lid of the perfume box
I returned to the school of hard knocks
To my consternation and my deep chagrin
There was a void where the perfume once had been
An empty box was my only present from my mum
My gift is that I still have mum, so my poem is done.
This is a true story - someone had put an empty box as a raffle prize!
Contest: My abiding Memory
Sponsor: Viv Wigley
9th January 2016
What’s Broken?
Some things that are broken can never be fixed
Like hearts shattered, as glass on the floor
What felt like love, don’t no more
No distance No time
No rhythm No rhyme
No song No Dance
No Coincidence No chance
Hey if distance only makes the heart grow fonder
What about time, It only makes you wonder
Like
What about that time we were together
At the place we use to go
You held my hand
I stared in your eyes
The telephone ranged us
Back to realty
Mic check one two one two
I looked back and where were you
Gone without a trace, or explanation.
It felt like a plan shot down from the sky
Or a child falling from a building
Right before your eye
Or a laboring mom with great anticipation
Only to be told that it was still born
Yeah that’s a heart breaker,
Yeah that’s a Faith Shaker
Yeah that’s a breath taker,
Lies Deceit
Cries Defeat
Who are we to judge?
What more can we say
If our heart got broken
We got what we deserved.
Stood at the upstairs window, hands face down
fists clenched, knuckles touching cool windowsill.
Crows, silhouette cut-outs surveyed the town
from aerials and ranged the skies at will.
I watched their dark progressions jealously,
from eggshells cracked they burst and rove the sky
roaming when needs dictate, they hunt and feed
instinct their engine, not some reasons why.
And here I stand moulded by circumstance,
driven by life's winds, leaf upon a stream,
currents of obligation, waves of chance
my path determined, yet allowed to dream.
Cannot accept defeat though these things be,
I know I'm out there somewhere- the real me
Robin Hood was captured
Thrown in the castle cells
Here he met an inmate
By the name of H.G.Wells.
Herbert George is fascinated
By the story our Robin has to tell
but he knows Robin will be executed
When the church sounds the morning bell.
So that night together
As the guards around them dream
Herbert George and Robin
Escape in H.G's time machine.
They set a course for the future
March 27th 2014'
Robin so excited
To be seeing things he's never seen .
All his hopes are soaring
Thinking about the things he hopes to see
Fair wages and taxation
and an end to poverty.
But what he finds tears him apart
In this age of depravity
The super rich are just as greedy
and the peasants as poor as they ever used to be.
All Robin see's are broken promises
Nothing much has changed
Conservative, Republican , Communist or Democrat
Favours for the super rich are still arranged.
Politicians feathering their own nest
Against the poorest all weapons are ranged
Yet we have no modern day Robin Hood
Even H.G. thought that strange.
Back to the time machine
Robin has never felt so low
All the things he fought against
With just a few arrows and a bow
Are just as prevalent in the future
and after thanking H.G. for the show
A broken hearted Robin Hood
Climbed the steps to the sheriffs gallows.
As he stood astride the trap door
Returned H.G's time machine
Herbert whisks Robin off to Eden
A garden beautiful and green
Here he learns the lord never intended
For man to be so mean
He now knows the poor will inherit gods mansions
The super rich for eternity will scream .
Not for a contest.
By the side of the loch some boys at play,
when into their midst there came
A beautiful white and riderless horse
with a long and flowing mane
A redheaded boy jumped up on its back,
a daring young sprite was he
And the other bold lads, as lads often do,
followed in his lee
The boys they ranged from the head to the tail,
and more clung to the side
And the pure white horse cantered along,
with the boys enjoying the ride
But one boy recalled an ancient tale,
and wished he had paid more heed,
How the slimy Kelpie could change its shape
and become a shining steed
Then the Kelpie, in this fine disguise,
would trot by the loch or mere
And the humans foolish enough to ride,
would be doomed to disappear
This unhappy boy had a grip on the tail
and he was running last
But when he tried to let it go,
he found his hand stuck fast
He twisted and turned, he tossed and thrashed,
but all to no avail
‘til he pulled out a knife, from the top of his boot,
and slashed the creature’s tail
And in that instant the Kelpie reared up,
and flew with brimstone and fire
Out over the loch and down in the deep
of the boggy marsh and mire
The boy left behind stood on the sand
and gazed where his friends been
And though the men searched for many a night,
they never again were seen
And the mothers came to sit by the loch,
to keen, to moan and cry
And in their grief they failed to see,
a pale horse trotting by.
Margaret Foster 29th August 2011
‘each uisge’ Gaelic—Water horse—Kelpie
mere—archaic, dialect. a lake or marsh.
Where no ponies free ranged, I dreamt to break and wrangle paints.
Where ponies bent, broke and bridled, I dreamt to hang away my spurs.
Where no ponies free range, I have no spurs and wrangle paints.
1955 Was a Very Good Year
By Elton Camp
A better year in my life I have never seen
Because, back then, I was only age fifteen
Nobody I knew had, at that time, ever died
Any problems of the world I could brush aside
Nearly eight millions cars were sold in the USA
And never before had they been styled that way
Seven out of ten families owned a motor car
So we ranged freely about, both near and far
And yearly pay was nearly four thousand buck
Inflation of one-fourth percent added to the luck
Minimum wage to a dollar an hour had been raised
And gas at twenty-three cents a gallon was praised
Eleven thousand dollars was the cost of a new house
About a new car at two thousand, nobody’d grouse
Born that year were Whoppi Goldberg, Jobs & Gates
Nobody would have expected their eventual fates
Of the civil rights movement I was only vaguely aware
Dr. King, Rosa Parks, Emmett Till, though, were there
Elvis Presley was then the very latest singing rage
And appealed to screaming girls of most any age
James Dean in the movie, East of Eden, was the star
But he died that year and so wasn’t able to go too far
Finding his thrill on Blueberry Hill was Fats Domino
Bill Haley, Chuck Berry and the Platters on the go
I am not one of those old men who dotes to say
“If only it were still like back in the good old day”
Back in 1955, there many problems and great woe
But not the concern of a fifties teenager, though
Checking the heart beat now and then
It did not ranged since so very long
Ah! My best friend my smart phone
How it u lost the way to tele signals
Cell block since past two big days
Looks as if the date is of earth end
Checked clock all fine with world
Just my smart life came to bad pause
Cell block as if life is boring of all
Buttons all dying screen screaming
No messages or calls or even alert
Cell block makes it go so dull chap
Yeah can listen songs but how long
Want to chat with friends like silly
Cell block please come back to life.
If lawyers get de-barred and clergymen de-frocked
Does it naturally follow and make sense
That electricians are de-lighted and cowboys de-ranged?
Need some answers, no sitting on the fence!
Can a motorist be de-fined, a balloon's mood de-flated
This silliness surely must stop
Do dead mailmen de-liver, are old ships de-ported
Better stop before I call a burly cop
Do musicians get de-noted, dry cleaners de-pressed?
Now hold on, I'm getting quite upset
Can models be de-posed, do tree surgeons de-bark?
Haven't heard any answers as yet
Do skirts get de-pleted, has your hair been de-parted?
This must be some kind of a plot
Artists quit by de-sign, symphonies de-compose?
I think about de's things a lot!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Ranged rain,
Clearing to starters day,
Long waited shafts and open slots,
Near mergents of lines.
Syrupy with recipe ran along brasseries
Peiping, Mags and Oasis pricey rotisseries
Sizzling sizzlers the Peter Cat’s clamor
Addled couples fending their pockets out of scarce.
Boogie with deejays rhythm along discos
Tantra, Fusion and Roxy surfaced floorshows
Mass hangout the Some Place Else’s beckon
Mini-fashioned getups makes the other to pay on.
Volumes with fictions traded along bargains
Oxford and Metropolitan are mostly visited
Cohort no bar wide-ranged music stocked at Music World
Passerby’s daily dos’ makes the guard better-known.
Xaverians with hip-hops confined along principles
St. Mary, AG and St. Augustine are teenagers realm
Scandals and hearsays are their daily boasts
Highly noetic minds makes them their daily booze.
Hotfooted with attachés bucked along clock at nine
Pushed subway, the most busiest at times
Hi-fi managers and Board meetings at The Park
Foreigners often ease themselves at the Flurry’s cake bar.
Today would be the day my wedding bells would ring, but they are still and quiet.
Where is the up roar? Where is the happy riot to cheer me on this happy day?
I do not see them have they all run away? Where is my mother? For she must walk me down the aisle.
I am her only child surely she would not forget about me.
However a better question would be where is my silver ring? The one that was given to me by my lover.
I am to become his significant other. Where is my beloved one? Where does he hide? I cannot wait to be by his side.
Today would have been the day my wedding bells would have ranged but today brings no joy only pain.
I loved only once but it was all in vain. The ring I was given was suddenly taken away...I was betrayed.
He abandon me and left me for dead. Oh if only I had known what was going on in his head.
Oh such pain I am in! Why me!? Why must I suffer!?
I have summoned all the strength I can muster but still I am weak with sadness.
However I can look back and say it was nice while it lasted.
But my face reveale's all things; this is why I look so down casted.
In my bedrom I cry and think how everything he told me was just a pretty lie.
He never did love me, and he never will. Thinking about him makes me feel ill.
But what's even more sickening is that I love him still.
Hate him I wish I could, but forgiveness I must give.
However I never wish to look upon his face ever again.
Today would have been the day my wedding bells would ring, but the sun does not shine and the birds do not sing.
Do they also share in my sadness or are they also confused by this madness?
I sit and ask myself how could this be? One moment we are together the next moment we are history.
You are one of the greatest mysteries that has yet to be solved.
My first kiss I gave to you, oh how I wish I could steal it back.
Was my love so powerful that it gave you a fatal heart attack?
How I wish I could change the times so that your eyes would have never met mine.
But time cannot be changed set or rearranged.
What happens in life must remain that same.
Today would have been the day my wedding bells would ring but they are still and quite.
As I awake with light and cries of my own transcendence upon my eyes
I transition to transfer transfused dull interactions into something transparent
Cause I'm sick of these kids with wit that think they give gifts
So I sift into the way I live, and shift my deeper perspective
A prospective detective that collected all that he reflected
But was he really perceptive? Because at one with his soul he perfected
Purposely accepted the connected connection between being exquisitely electric
And distinctively impressive, but always neglected because in this world he reflected
An imperfect soul infected and injected with respect and hectic, which wasn't authentic
So he set off with his heightened soul which wasn't frightened cause he loved lightening
But enlightened with the love of a lion, but remained silent, and never followed "Simon"
He'd siphon the dying cries of his tyrant, his triumph was of those called a titan
A never ending alliance since the time of the mayans, but defying the riots
And soulless science, They just can't see why, they're tied down and deranged
Because they ranged from enraged, strange insaneness or even being brainless
So I'm embracing my own delayed "dangerous changes......"
We all want a few things to do
just once in a while
We want to kill that special something that falls through our fingertips
Like last moments of a kiss; the break tears off a gasp of your facade
Leaving skins spoken into yet louder spins
Whatever it takes to leave a hand or footprint
over these chapters, over these pages
An ink blot or two on their unknowing faces,
all those many you's
that at times used to confuse you,
remove you, reduce and prove -- You!
Oh You used to be so underground then.....wouldn't even have noticed me even if I could write a wild song with my pen
"'the pen is always mightier than the sword', they say"
Well, was this even supposed to happen?
Nein Mann, there was no first state to seek out no matter how you ranged it
In the blank shoulder-space view that you just can't see whatever you do
chronic stress races past the quickest laugh --
wish it off
wish it after!!
take the next ride out
take the next sarcastic utterance
~ how Easily we forget our skins...
hast thou forgotten the true spell of nothingness?
...it wasn't a memory you might have had, or a future command
...it is you now
you how....
and when