Best Saps Poems
I slept and then October with stealth crept in.
I knew it when a breeze blew in. Crisp and clean,
it softly breathed and wreathed the trees and kissed my skin.
Hues of passion now show fall fashion for its trees.
Birds loudly call. When winds blow hard, leaves of fall careen.
Coolness drops by some degrees. Please let there be no early freeze.
Spiced pies have enticed me. Pumpkins look like silly saps.
On porches, their eyes- bright by night- welcome Halloween.
October then takes its leave – with a heave of wind perhaps.
Feeling lost in an emotional maze
anxiety saps my body and soul;
stumbling mindlessly through a foggy haze.
Staring deep into your eyes in a daze,
I lament the innocence that time stole;
feeling lost in an emotional maze.
Impressed by flattery's flamboyant ways,
I ignore reality's costly toll;
stumbling mindlessly through a foggy haze.
Bullied by deceit and the tricks lust plays,
I cling to whatever makes me feel whole;
feeling lost in an emotional maze.
A pyre of doubts can't rekindle love's blaze,
lodged deep in my heart like a lump of coal;
stumbling mindlessly through a foggy haze.
Tangled in a web of lies and clichés;
admonishing trust, I regret its role.
Feeling lost in an emotional maze;
stumbling mindlessly through a foggy haze.
The River
The river sings its sweet lament
in ancient voice softly lowing,
vibrant melodies subtly meant
to plumb the depths of our knowing.
Around each bend it curves, flowing
onward toward its fated reunion
with unkempt sea, wild and blowing;
embracing briney communion.
Its serpentine course scars the land
in undulant brown profusion;
shimmering gold in twilight's hand,
a gift of nature's effusion.
Pregnant spring plies it, unleashing
tempest's turgid downpour to slake
the lusty spate's thirst unceasing,
leaving ravaged marl in its wake.
Torrid summer's breath chars the soil
and saps the river of its strength,
but cool and sweet, the river's toil
paints a green ribbon down its length.
Demon winter glazes the earth,
garbs the river in frigid gown,
draws a pane of ice over its girth
but fails to stay its flowing down.
Since time out of mind, the river
has carved canyons from stubborn stone
and sought naught but to deliver
its lifeblood back to heaven's home.
Oh wonderful jumbleful spring
hormones awakening after winter naps
making bumbling idiots
out of unsuspecting saps
Oh dopey me, I bathed
perfumed, powdered and dusted
picked out slinky sexy things
getting more and more flust’ed
I skipped down the lights
and locked the stairs
let down the dogs and
tripped over my hair
“Dames Javid” I purred
“come sugar me some lip”
as I swiveled my eyelashes
and batted my hip
He tongued on his trip,
as he blew in my eye
then gazed in my ear
and heaved a big sigh
Ah, Springtime, it’s jumbleful
don’t you agree?
Cause pobody’s nerfect,
especially me.
when the coolness of spring
begins to fade,
in the wake of rising heat
in early April in north Indian plains,
and the golden wheat crops
shimmer in glade,
flowers of different hues
begin to lose their bright sharp sheen.
the dry, pale yellow and brown
dead leaves of most trees,
shed themselves off one by one
exposing the bare branches,
ahoy!! soon thereafter
the nature’s miracle can be witnessed,
if one looks at the bare dry branches
a bit more closely.
suddenly they seem to be covered
with growing tender green leaf-shoots ‘n buds,
and slowly begin to swing
in the gentle breeze like coy maidens,
taking cover behind each other
they nervously glance around to check,
they have not been seen naked
in their act of changing their attire
by any stranger.
when the flower-laden branches
of mango and other fruit trees
gently dance in the air,
to sweet notes of the cuckoo’s song
attracting butterflies ‘n insects
to their flowers,
and what a surprise to see
not so long after
the sudden evolution of flowers
into small unripe green fruits,
which promise to become
sweet ‘n juicy
in the growing heat of
the engulfing summer.
the morning cool and gentle breeze
rapidly starts to convert itself into,
a hot, biting, dry, strong westerly wind
as the sun simmers
agonizingly close ‘n longer,
everyone gets nature’s signal
to search for shade and cool greens
for solace, before the heat saps up
whatever energy is left in the living beings.
27.5.2014
Pain so debilitating
draining me of life
It is constant
with no respite
Saps my energy
such pain within
Pain depletes joy
from my face
Leaves strain and hurt
etched on my frown
As slowly and surely
pain grinds me down
Even when I try to sleep
pain keeps me awake
for hours on end
This enemy within
taking over my life
is dragging me down
Pain at every turn
Pain so aging
so exhausting too
Oh dear what can I do
Walking to accommodate
but posture is poor
Exacerbating problem
on walking through my door
Oh please I am begging
no pain anymore
Unwelcome guest
you ring my bell
you truly are
a visitor from hell
I will not let you in
I will lock up my door
Written on 10th January 2019
written after a very painful period so feeling rather fragile
Contest A STRAND (1072)
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Consider first the humble bees,
who do God's work upon their knees,
when nuzzling deep in dewy laps
and drinking deep of scented saps,
they softly spread the potent germ
that brings each rose to its full term.
So 'tis bees who seed that fragrant breed
that man's coarse nostrils can't but heed.
This brings us to a second thought,
which seems to be so deeply fraught
with portent for our universe.
Could God's intent be so perverse?
what number of bees do you suppose is
****ed when sucked up people's noses?
For Andrea's Show Me The Funny (part two)
BURNING DAYLIGHT by Kevin L Fairbrother
Burning Daylight what ever does it mean
Could be about your daily routine
Or the hours you work from daylight to dusk
Maybe it means how you use the daylight hours
For your own satisfaction and well-being
…
To me it’s about crawling out of bed
After a restless night sleep from the heat
As evident from the crumpled and soaked sheets
As I greet the burning sun’s rays that announce the new day
…
Have to face the new day of heat, dust and flies
What-ever the weather there is work to be done
So it’s on with the shorts, t-shirt and wide brimmed hat
And a liberal smothering of sun screen with high UV
…
Gather my pack of bottled water then on my bike with dogs in tow
Down to the long paddock to gather the sheep
Already the shimmering horizon beggar's belief
For the hot dry wind burns the air I’m trying to breathe
…
Burning daylight it’s like the earth is on fire
For it saps my energy, dulls my brain and sweat rolls off
Man and dog must be crazy to be burning daylight in this heat
As the temperature climbs to well above 50 degrees
…
No shade and no relief from the creek that has run dry
With the dogs panting we gather the sheep and lambs
And push on to the homestead and out of the heat dust and flies
For there will be shelter, shade and cool water to drink
…
I sit on the porch the dog at my feet and enjoy a feed and a drink
As the daylight hours fade away to a night sky
But there is no relief for the heat still lingers and burns
I know I will be facing the burning of daylight hours yet again
The law requires each one to seed
A small device inside our head
To solve a case without much aid,
To count the things: who's there, who's dead?
It links with me without my Yes,
And reads my brain without permit,
And finds me in my secret place,
And scans my flesh for cold or heat,
And spots my stares and line of sight,
And determines my hormone saps,
And spans my heart and pressure's height,
And notices my walks, my naps,
Then processes the data got
Again without my own decree.
And on their screen a message popp'd,
"This man we found wants to be free."
as the wind blows south
the poplar tree saps black blood
soaked are roots with pride
One Saturday I went walking through the deep dark woods at night
It was clear and cool, the stars were out , the moon shone bright
I came upon a crooked tree , a haunted figure all alone
Twisted and bent ,fingers wide, stretching out to meet the sky
One finger pointing straight ahead to the old graveyard , It did not lie
The mossy stones faded and washed away , a haunted site , an old forgotten burial plot
Eerie echoes touched my ears , a deathly scream ,footsteps nearby, a hounds chilling reply
I passed over lifeless sandy ground forgotten from yesterdays barren lot
Silence ,sudden and deep moved through the woods as shadows danced and branches creaked
Panic overwhelmed as a frightening cold gripped my soul and I lay frozen, pinned to the ground
I can not move nor can I try to rise from this deathly spot of earth
Paralyzed by blinding fear, I felt another presence, foul and evil with no life there in front of me
Stalking my mind , clutching my soul .and I can do nothing but wait and see it take its toll
It saps my strength and drains my soul , it wants to see my vision die
I appeal to my inner self , my comfort and joy for strength to beat this foul thing
I felt the love deep within , bursting forth like a pure white light
Immediately its power lessened and onward I felt my love
It loosened its grip and I arose , determined to beat this demon with all my love
As I left this area I seemed to hear , a quiet whisper in my ear
I am still here waiting watching, stalking who ever comes to walk my woods
I am in your dreams , I live beyond the great black wall , come look for me if you dare
About Ants And Trees
Shadows feed trees first against the suns reflection
Long shadows cast the smallest ants against their majesty
Though diametrically opposed to such strange creatures
Shadows have no interest down below
Insects have no place to go but up
Shadows must first feed trees in shade to give relief
Leave the ants till last
Blistering relentless sun dries the leaves and roots
Saps them of their energy and life
Shadows come on stronger on larger objects
Such as mountains and taller trees
Insects such as ants are far too small
Dodging the light on forest floor
They could be overlooked by these mighty giants standing tall
Trees get their fill of sun and shade and lazy shadows
The smallest ants know not to tamper with perfection
Progress and nature have to wait
When light of day finally finds them scurrying away
Sun will find them early in the morning or late afternoon
On the horizon, that’s when we see the vast and great reflection
When even the smallest ants cast long shadows on the day
Created on 1/04/15 for – “Even The Smallest Ants Cast Long Shadows”
The xylem saps are heading south
like the majestic autumn sun,
deep down into their woody roots.
Soon deciduous leaves will die
and their exquisite lingering
dissolution's will manifest
tinctured, ephemeral beauty:
crimsons, oranges, yellows and greens
and all the subtle hues in between.
A sweet, earthy scent saturates
the cool, autumnal air we breathe.
Then one by one each leaf succumbs
to a gentle rain or zephyr
descending silently to earth.
(I wrote this PRIOR to the election, but many of the same questions remain)
I cannot tell you where I stand,
I don't know what to think,
Our beloved country, USA
Is standing on the brink.
The candidates for POTUS
Are questionable, at best,
And I cringe to think what each might do
When they're finally put to test.
See, one is spreading vitriol,
The other lies at length,
And their affinity for bickering
Just saps our nation's strength.
They seem to have forgotten
They're supposed to be our "voice",
And the selfish aims they represent
Just further clouds our choice.
I've never been more worried
About the future that's in sight,
And what our votes may bring about,
Whether leaning left or right.
I'm beleaguered for my children,
And for my grandkids, too,
For this eventuate selection
Will impinge on all they do.
The problems that we're facing,
As a people and a land,
Have never been more critical
Than the issues now at hand.
Our economy and human rights
Are balancing on edge,
And terrorism spreads unchecked
As the caliphate is fed.
New racial tensions plague us,
Foreign policies are unclear,
Immigration needs attention,
Health insurance crises near.
Our defense systems are ailing,
Our penal system weak,
Our cyber systems vulnerable,
And crime has reached a peak.
Our preference is for party lines
Over unity, of late,
And it seems we've traded kindness
For animosity and hate.
Never in my memory
Has this country needed more,
A leader with true character
And integrity at their core.
Yet as we enter crunch time
The lesser evil seems the choice,
For our votes will have no confidence
As we lack a steadfast voice.
I wish our path was clearer
As election day draws close,
And I wish I could be hopeful
For the land I love the most.
So, I'm praying for a miracle
And a light to shine the way,
But I fear we're at dear mercy's sake,
For our beloved USA.
So slick and sexy. Purred past Temple Bar.
That throaty engine advertising punch.
All legal London, strolling out for lunch,
with turning heads declared, “Now that’s a car!”
So many barristers are – if not losers,
low earners and slow learners. I was one.
I, plodding back from Penge, felt put upon:
a plea, a pittance. Now for Holborn’s boozers.
That mean machine was not for saps like me.
I turned my face towards the threatening rain,
and started wearily up Chancery Lane.
A cup of tea and, hopefully, a fee
awaited me in Chambers. Alloy wheels
slid sleekly, silently – stopped at my side.
That car again! I watched the window glide
wide open. And I almost had to kneel
to see the driver. Handsome. Tall and thin.
The shirt was pastel pink, the tie was silk.
The suit was Savile Row, or of that ilk.
His words astonished me. “Well, clamber in!”
And then the penny dropped. It’s Alex R!
Agility has never been my thing,
so Reaney waited, engine idling,
as I shoe-horned myself into his car.
We’d known each other at the School of Law,
but then our paths had radically diverged.
Me, in pleas and poverty submerged,
and he, the wide blue skies of Libel to explore.
“I’ll run you back to Chambers – beat the rain.”
He asked me what had occupied my morning.
For him, the King’s Bench judges were adjourning.
I’d copped a plea in Penge – how to explain?
The major stars had Alex at the helm
when they unleashed their lawsuits on the press.
Defending thefts of bicycles – and less –
was my domain. He ruled a regal realm.
His clients of the moment, man and wife,
were household names. They’d sold their wedding day
to paparazzi, who refused to pay.
The plaint was something weird, like “Stolen Life”.
The man, from Delaware, big hair, and Jewish.
They crank out movies like there’s no tomorrow
(Chicago, Basic Instinct, Traffic, Zorro):
the girl, from Aberdare – think Cher, and shrewish.
To talk of money is a vulgar thing,
but I was desperate to know his fee.
The forty quid I’d earned, I wouldn’t see
for months to come. His wrists were dripping bling.
We’d be at Chambers in another minute.
“So, Alex,” (best to blurt the damn thing out),
“a case like that. You’re looking at … about …?”
He grinned at me and said, “you’re sitting in it.”