Best Reflexes Poems
At first he drank to be one of the boys
To act a bit rowdy, to make some noise
He couldn't resist all the teen peer pressure
Just couldn't say 'No;' had to say 'Yes sir'
Off to college he went to the land of beer tents
Where drinking's the pastime of well-educated gents
Our hero could be found, where pop-tops did sound
Stumbling drunkenly around, or face down on the ground
Armed with a degree, into the world of business he marched
Just like in college, he found his throat dry and parched
At midday he made time to imbibe a liquid lunch
From Monday to Friday, he dipped his cup in the pun
One rain-pouring day, he wobbled to his car
Jumped on the freeway, to fight the rush-hour war
Only this time, reflexes, lulled to sleep by drink
He drove into the guardrail, and his life went 'clink'
His family and friends feigned surprise at the news
They didn't believe what you can lose when you booze...
Bidding tearful adieu,
I sat on his grave,
And his spirit stood beside me,
Consoling me to return home.
As I opened eyes to my conscious ,
Ghosts encircled me in black attire,
Their orange faces wore a smile,
Greeted with shriek sounds they proffered.
No life to be seen in full moon,
Not even as dark clouds passed by,
Palpitations that anyone could hear,
Chest went airless for a minute,
Eyes were dry and reflexes dampened,
Shiver that followed down the spine.
Scare of dying never before,
Traversed my nerves to a faint,
Darkness all over and silence of a mourn,
I found him standing next to me,
Both breathing into the same air,
That was a farewell to my life !!
New for Contest- Everything Halloween
Written on 22/10/13
Old for contest on theme- gothic and romantic both
Now entered for contest "Your own fav Halloween poem" by Carol Eastman
Awarded 1st place win
Once upon a time I shared a cubicle with the detention supervisor.
Mr. Hell was swift and severe detention.
I was lavish and immediate positive attention.
We got along great, Mr. Hell and I, as I did not say anything to him,
And He felt equally compelled to share stories with me.
One day when I entered the school late, after the district wasted my morning
On a mandatory counseling meeting which was a complete and utter waste of my time,
And took me away from the children, which put me in a bad mood to boot
The secretary said, “Oh, it’s BAD in the detention room right now. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”
So of course I ran right in, with all my usual reserve and finesse.
Three grown men were standing along the walls.
Each one of them had their arms crossed and frowning faces.
An eight-year-old-boy who was regularly beaten with a belt by an angry severe father
A particular favorite of mine actually, being able to relate well to this side of him,
Was in the middle yelling, screaming, and SHRiEKING at the top of his lungs.
I said, “Tray, do you want to go with me?” To his credit he glared, stuck out his tongue and threw a vase at my head.
Having swift reflexes, I caught it and carefully handed it back to him, which I could see almost made him smile.
The arm-folded men could not see this from their vantage points, being in back and at his sides.
“What would it take to get you to come with me?” I asked Tray after he threw the vase at a now-angry-looking six foot three two-hundred and ten pound DARE officer, which means a police man, and how dare an 8 year-old bully one of them, right?
Tray thought for a long time.
I was SO hoping the men would stay out of it.
One started to talk and I gave him the HATE look, so he stopped. He was the vice principal.
Faith is purity shining in a newborn’s eyes,
the strong knowing rooted in their helplessness
that prevents any worries over dependency;
it's witnessing nature declare all light gone
just as it diligently places the morning sun;
watching animals innately attend to survival;
it's believing the never aging, familiar voice
that is ever alert within each human's chest;
and it's all one’s human reflexes often deny
while one’s spiritual senses feel-testify
an omnipotent Papa wove each soul's karma.
Inside the fierce beast, beats the heart of a king
No challengers come forth to contest his throne
Leisurely days spent dreaming of his pride
Ingesting meat taken down by his females
Knowing his reign ends when age betrays
Enjoying his vigor as he awaits that fate
Another, younger male, comes to call
Lying in wait while the females are serviced
Inhaling the scent of the pride in heat
Only caution stays his hunger and power
Not so when the mighty male is exhausted
Out of the bushes he rushes the fatigued king
Ultimate victory assured as challenge roars out
Though winded, the pride male answers swiftly
Like boxers they circle, searching for weakness
Incensed at the impudence, the elder attacks
Keen reflexes, the challenger moves like a ghost
Engaging the king with teeth, claws and fury
A fatal mistake, now the old king lays wounded
Limping away, weak from blood loss and pain
Already he dreams of the death that approaches
Maybe his time is over, but another will come
Behind him, the new king begins his reign
Defeated, hopeless, helpless.
A slow sinking of the heart.
Overwhelmed. Drowning.
The brain has reflexes.
Plugging. Toning.
Must find a balance.
Right, wrong, whatever.
Masquerade, parade,
celebrate illusions.
Conspiracy, hypocrites
sewn into innate intelligence.
Regrets, cigarettes, beer
save a life by giving a dollar.
Useless, nonsense, crazy.
Inspiration meets shadow.
Smile, cry, frown
get on medication.
Numb, hollow, void
welcome to normalcy.
Smell, touch, see
perceive unconditional love.
Rejection, imperfection
nail it to your mind.
Not your fault.
Not your fault.
Not your fault.
Crooked face, sweet smile
blank mind, dishonorable.
Apostrophe not needed.
Mission accomplished.
Safe Driving Demo
Quick reaction time
driving in front of the school
fastest stop won prize
beat the top three high school boys
girls have the best reflexes
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Let's Hear It
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Judged: 02/10/2016
Theme: Get your scrapbooks out! Bring your memories back!
Something from our high school or college days.
Dragon drive
Under the pillow is a fantasy land,
A land ruled by a magic wand,
Everything seen is never like before,
Joyous breeze, all pervading azure sky,
Exclusive floor, Grecian design crafted on a leather surface,
Scales with uneven contours,
Back view tapers with conical protruding shapes,
Frontal goes as high upto the fire flame,
Some jerky movements-fire out,then smoke
GHOSH! Why am I here?
Seems like an onset of earthquake,
Both sides stretch wide and wide,
I roll on the expanding surface,
To see myself on the head of a dragon,
Things happen so fast ,no time for fear
And instantly by its reflexes,
Makes me feel wanted and secure,
More than docile, it seems angelic
Conveys a motherly warmth and care,
Komodo dragon,may be senior of the reptile family,
Very unlike the iconic animals-
Belligerant,ferocious,despicable,
Brimming with sunny flames.
Do I have to choose….
A place of fun ,wonder,safety,
Joy,kindness,support,stress free,
So tempting….
And down there ,deep down,
The world is dull,dreary,weary,
Violent,greedy,jealous,stress prone,
So pathetic……
Where should I go,
I want to make a difference,
Minimize evil through my resources,
I can make a difference, for the better
I have to go, there is so much to do,
I have to give my share,
I want to go, I want to go……
Is that mom,..Amy baby,wake up
Where do you wanna go?
Rizwana Bhurani.
21-10-2015
The History of the world is in my veins,
an abstract in my mind the Future,
looking into the cornicopia of concepts from memory
I see a universe staring back at me,
naked am I, a body of victories, failures & serrindipities,
a sepleture of star light & a womb of consciousness
craving continuity of conclusions,
seeking a final truth rescuing dead judgements from error,
Time, attention as an investment,
as a resource for spiritual enrichment is a vast mine of mine,
shafts that burrow into fear, stupidity, euphoria, creativity,
spelunking the sensational,
dividends in quiet diamonds,
speaking to the world in thought symbols,
noise finds no harbor in my mouth,
awareness deepens as the river perfumes the great canyon of reflection,
illusions lose their tastes & happiness hungers itself,
the slavish & sordid power structure of Man's nightmare
tells me I possess no right or ability to know myself by myself,
that meditation is for lazy, ill informed members, introspection a sour source,
productivity for commerce is penultimate goal,
souls engulfed in irrational routines, distracted from divinity,
disinterested in sacrafice for strength and subsequent liberty,
guided by gurus of reflexes,
I stare at skies, trees, chattel, focusing on artwork, music, environment,
harvesting experience, interpreting Life for me,
day dreaming like a goose on soft grass,
refusing guilt breath in my instruments,
the only legitimate " waste of time "
is denying yourself realization of Truth & Honesty,
permit them sanctuary,
give them time to help you use your immense power,
a place that never darkens -
J.A.B.
Streets made me, that's why I bleed cement
Your hour has come, your time is spent
My strap spoils fools, expiration date
Class was in, you din't participate
Raised your hand, it's good to ask questions
Pay attention, don't cost much, even in recessions
Beginning of the end, this is a take-over
If you're sluggish, better move over
Came from the bottom, now I'm elavatin'
Fully focused, like I'm testin'
Keep my eyes on the prize, ignore distractions
Reflexes like a cat, no late reactions
Ain't playin' in movies, but I'm quick to act
I'm an over-achiever, I never lacked
Like an all-in pot, I gave it everything
Married to the game, I got it a ring
Devoted to money, never catch me cheatin'
To me, getting paid is better than skeetin'
Hustling is like Viagra for making cash
At times it gets hard, and it makes it last
The doctor of reputation agreed to consultation and a physical exam.
He began by saying while I was weighing, “I see you like your ham!”
He checked my reflexes and my solar plexus, everything from bottom to top.
While pulling my ears, and all my running gears, I thought he’d never stop.
He probed for hemorrhoids and body fluid voids as I was busy looking south.
While attending these essentials, I questioned his credentials, when next he checked my mouth!
Looking for a flaw, he said, “Say Ah!” while my mouth was agape.
With his big thumbs, he gouged at my gums. I had no escape.
A fearful moment caught us when my epiglottis gave a waving flip.
When he stopped to linger, I bit down on his finger till he lost his grip.
Regaining his composure, he felt it time for closure as my mouth snapped shut.
Then he explained, telling me straight and plain, while gazing at my gut,
“Son, your longevity is threatened by obesity—we’d better have a chat.”
I said with chagrin, “It’s a good thing I came in. I thought I was just too fat.”
A Man Stood Part II Story/poem
A man was standing by his window on a cold winter day.
He was thinking about his past, when a phone call came.
It brought him back to reality. He answers and says hello.
the other voice says - hello, are you Ben? He says - yes,
but who are you? The voice said - before I answer. I have
a question. he said - alright.
Are you married? He said no. The other voice said - I'm the
blast from your past. For a moment, he stood quiet, than
he asked - are you my Lucy? The other voice said yes I am.
Suddenly the past has come back to hunt him. He reflexes
for a moment. Then he asks - where is my daughter? His
memorey has not left him yet. He remembers that he has
another daughter.
many questions he had. He wanted to know many things.
He found out that he had grandkids. His daughter was living
in another state, but his grandkids were very close to him. He
got to meet the oldest granddaughter and her kids that day.
He got to meet his daughter two months later.
All was going well, until he found out that his daughter was
not the perfect child. Their relationship did not go well after
that. Of course the mother was to blame. she had not raised
her daughter right. The mother is always to blame. all I can say
is that we do what we can in life.
I got to see him seven months later, after I found him. It had
been forty years. A lot can happen in forty years, people change.
He looked very different. He said that he had loved me a lot. The
thing is that he had a strange way of showing it. The relationship
with his daughter is not good. She don't talk much to him.
He still lives alone. I got to meet his cat. He never again got married.
He now has plenty of time to think. We don't know what the future
holds. All I know is that this is not the end. Life brings us many
surprises. When the past comes back to the present - what do we do?
01/07/2013
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo.
To be continued
Passion to excel in academics as also in sport
Photographic memory made study more of sport
Good reflexes reduced study of sport
First rank in exams adorned the school report
Medals, Trophies in sport averted bookworm retort
Passion to be leader of masses
Pushed me to rise and stand up for causes
Got elected, risked with huge responsibility
Sharpened Human skills, chiseled versatility
Succeeded as favorite, alone on merits and ability
Passion to be top executive with vision
Handled projects, darted on corporate mission
Often led as one man army, met tough deadline
Figured as key member when Company did shine
In bad times too strived as Company were mine
Passion to be energetic, fit and fine
Did gym, clean habits, body care all the time
Pole Vaulted mental energy bars
Synergised physical energy thru’ mental wars
Passionately shining as North Star, star of stars
( Entry for Members Contest - Passion Pits by Linda Marie- The Sweetheart of P.S.)
At times I relent to the reflexes
The automatic knowledge of the peripheral nerves
Deftly guiding away from pain
Innately coded protection,
Gifted to all
That we don’t allow the conscious to override
Our cognition
What our atoms knows best
Every fiber of flesh protects the soul or should
From the ravages of love
A smart man once said, “Love will tear us apart”
Only fools listen and did not unhear.
Another man, though many scoffed at his unorthodox pulpit, once said:
“Fear is greater than love, remember that.”
I did not heed.
Which leads me to my reflexes delicately picking up a fork and looking at your photographic image through its tines.
A befitting admonition for your deeds. But a profession on my part that suggests I know your prison.
I do not.
The shinning silver and tinkling tines as it strikes the floor chimes and ferries my mind back to its own endless inventory, and for a split second I think: And what of the thing in each of us that drives us to madness.
Grace Harbour
First into Grace Harbour
Me in classic sailboat
At anchor alone
In Desolation Sound
Where silence reveals the place
And the world is bigger
Because I can hear its’ vastness
It’s Bioacoustic diversity
Seals surface, gulls dive, water ripples.
A breeze in a cedar whispers
The buzz of a bumblebee.
The distant whistle of an eagle trembles in air
And falling droplets of rain taste of spruce.
The very place sparkles in silent sound and my soul is still
No need to block out
The combat zone of flashing messages.
From CNN and Fox.
But stillness of silence
Is reflected in blue water
and framed by oyster encrusted rocks,
While green and orange algae talk
Tidal pools and purple sea stars walk
And I can hear the world as music.
--------------------------------------------
War, bombs and shrapnel.
Roaring yachts arrive like Hummers or tanks from Kandahar
Stacked high with gadgets, guns hanged,
Travelling as a pack of waking house-mobiles
To conquer wilderness with bars, showers, propane barbecues
Gas generators, deep freezers, and boom-boxes
All sorts of folks; models in bikinis with pedigree dogs.
Fashion ladies in silk that launch revving zodiacs
To carry standard poodles for an urgent pee.
Then ‘A Tea Cup Yorkshire terrier’ yelps
At a Jack Russell that barks at a Chihuahua
As a Dachshund and Afghan Hound take offense
In frenzied jealousy.
Big hipped humans scream ashore in tenders.
Acoustic awareness numbed
The get-away-from-it-allers that bring it all always, partied.
As night fell they turned the generators off
“I haven’t seen any wildlife”, said one,
“There was more to feed at the zoo”
Said the other boomer
“Yea, where’s the loon.”
Fixed ideas of progress consume.
Then our mother moon
In full dress exposed an array of limpets
Of many sizes and shapes all clinging to obvious rocks
Exchanging freedom for the security
Of a defensive shell of fixed ideas
And automated reflexes.
It is useless to talk kindly to a limpet
One must detach it by main force.