Best Saturday Poems
I’ve received an incredible gift
It has given my heart such a lift
But the date that I see
Is what now concerns me –
It’s the date I no longer exist!!!
Today I was gifted a 'lifetime' premium membership but it is somewhat disconcerting to see it ends on 3/20/2077. I hope TPS aren't psychic!!!!
My mother's great great aunt lived to 111 and 121 days and was in the Guinness book of records - I hope I am around a long long time to make full use of this incredible gift.
14th October 2016
Another quiet Saturday night...
the silence is deafening
as I sit alone lost in my thoughts.
I feel a chill in the air...
raindrops are gently tapping
against the window panes of my heart
like teardrops gently falling from heaven.
I hear soft sounds…
in the background music is playing
muted notes of faded melodies
as my thoughts drift through
the muted dreams of our faded love.
My mind wanders back in time...
recalling summer nights so long ago
when only the August moon
knew of the passions we shared,
passions forever etched
in the memories of my mind.
I look around the room...
seeing only shadows of ghosts
cast upon the walls of my dreams
in the stillness of this lonely night.
I wonder if…
you are also lost in the silence of
another quiet Saturday night.
October 1, 2020
Poem of the Day - October 2, 2020
Its still raining, my eyes still tired,
wet lawns with little puddles drowning our earth -
but despite the monochromatic skyline,
birds arrived with their morning song -
not afraid to get their wings wet.
Selfish sun has abandoned me,
so I ponder amongst the puddles and serenades,
is this an analogy for us to continue with our purpose,
despite the adversity life throws at us?
Are you even alive?
Is breathing confirmation of your conscience?
Do we even need a reason for existence...
Many probably do not care or do not realise,
but if life was a contest, where would you place?
Not everyone has been gifted or cursed with empathy.
Would compassion compete if it was a competition?
Are words enough to justify where we finish on the podium,
or is it understanding what lies behind the veil -
or failing to explain that it hinders how we choose our path.
So why do we hide behind words?
Why are you afraid?
We can wear a disguise behind metaphors,
but in reality our truth in never being revealed
eats at our heart, killing our desires -
a corrupt heart means a death to our purpose.
I guess the dilemma is:
Do we need a purpose
and what is the purpose of living without a purpose..
Guess I am lucky I found my purpose.
Not everyone can spread light, but I will continue to illuminate.
A selfless soul never worries about the pedestal.
In a selfish world where time is your nemesis,
you have a choice how you wish to place in your contest.
Simple Musing
9 December 2023
This rink ranks right up there.
My power skates, slice each ring,
the scent of ice assails my nose.
Funny in the absence of air, I breathe.
It must be a dream. I don’t care.
The wind of Saturn blows through my hair.
No wind, you say, but I will believe
what this dream gifts to me. Can’t believe
I’ve made it this far. It’s not Mars -
tired of the heat and the bars.
Brightly lit, I see a disco ball in the mist.
I am young again. Giddy boys showing off.
I’m twirling like a pro until I fall
softly onto my fairytale bed,
the one twenty mattresses tall.
I woke up a bit bruised. Saturn
on Saturday night, had no idea,
a princess performed on her rings.
This rink ranks right up there.
I hear the chirruping of birds.
It emerges from vast hidden spaces
from wherever the birds may be.
Their twittering sounds are scattered,
interspersed with cricket sounds
and the intermittent whimpers of a lonely pup
that seems to be a distance not too far away.
The birds refuse to show themselves.
They are like the happy people of my neighborhood
busy with their lives. . . .
The birds and my neighbors elude me.
The crickets keep to their camouflage in the grass.
The little dog's sad cries have now disappeared.
On this ordinary warm June afternoon
I begin to wonder where Robin Redbreast went.
It seems like it was yesterday - a brighter day -
I saw her in my very own front yard.
If she's singing now, I wouldn't know.
I do not know the song of a sparrow from a lark's.
I'd rather “feel” joy, not just hear it.
And I'd rather see with my own eyes
those crickets at their play (I'm just that way).
I'd like to have that little dog with me.
I'd pat his head and stroke his coat and say,
"Robin Redbreast hides from us today.
She may have gone away, but I am here, sweet dog.
I understand. I understand."
For the the 'ALL YOURS (Apr 20)' Poetry Contest of Brian Strand
Reverie
Saturday in the arms of Mother Nature
That state – in between – just before one leaves consciousness
in order to cross the threshold into that world of the subconscious
That place between semi wakefulness and the land of dreams
where life is surrealistically richer, deeper than reality
and clearer than the images one sees in the world of dreams.
In this fantastic, altered state of being, I felt, I touched
a beautiful pink where all life begins, and begins !
My lips, my tongue, my fingers tips sailed across a body
of pure water, caressing every atom, every epithelio
of life, stroking your soul from head to your little toe
and back to the world of pink, where sweet lips met mine,
lubricating my tongue in the most passionate French kiss
your motherhood has or will ever have known !
My state of reverie !, my dream, but not your reality.
The reverie of my Saturday, I’d love to make your reality !
B. J. “A” 2
February 18th 2007
Sitting here in my room
Listening to Ella Fitzgerald
(on what would have been her 90th birthday)
Not so bad to be alone
Health worries bother me
but I have a pen and paper(thank God)
Continue to persist
with my literary efforts
I am haunted by
the shadows
of past masters of verse
I have plenty of them on recordings
Do you share these feelings poets and poetesses?
Leaving behind the hard work needed for success
We have chosen the path of the poet's art
No way to get rich from it
Of course your papers
may fetch a lot of loot - after you are gone
Not much of a comforting thought
By applying yourself to your art you will achieve
what you want to
WHAT YOU MUST
Their hands raise with ours and for a moment we are all standing in perfect unity, every set of fingers curled in anger and defiance - and then they throw the tear gas.
Which is rich,
Because how many women have wept,
Sliding down their walls to their bedroom floor,
To their kitchen tiles,
To the post office pavement?
How many women have sobbed,
Clutching their daughter's body,
Trying to collect all of the broken pieces back into one person again,
The mother's tears, all of the nation's tears, spilling and seeping into the cracks of her skin
- how many more need to cry?
How much deeper does the blood have to scar the inside of her thighs,
Embed itself in newspaper ink,
Puddle and clot in the streets,
For you to see how the country is drowning?
How the river laps at our feet, our knees, up to her bruised wrists
Do you see your own fingertips dripping,
Or how his teeth are stained pink,
The iron on his breath a blunt tool he uses to deepen the crevices long carved into her?
No, of course, you do.
So what do you do about it?
Do you try to press your hands to the wound?
Hand him a life-sentence?
Or do you hand him a baton?
A badge?
Perhaps a can of teargas?
Battered and bruised mommy cries as she tries to cover her black eyes.
But mommy doesn't see daddy as her demise.
One January 25 mommy and daddy awaited as baby arrived.
Smiles of comfort and tears of joy came as so did the baby boy.
Mommy and daddy weren't ready to take care of the child for daddy was still a child.
At heart mommy took all those foul mouth liquor jeers from daddy's mouth but baby didn't
know what that was about.
Mommy stays with daddy for the child, not realizing that it is doing more harm than
anything...comes from daddy's mouth and baby takes it in not realizing.
Flashing lights and sirens ring incredulously one slumber-some December night as baby was
tucked in tight...while mommy and daddy was going on like it was Saturday fight night.
Baby cries but whose there to hear for mommy and daddy curse and de fouls the baby's ear.
Baby's heart is broken and shattered as mommy is shaken and battered.
Sweet kisses to mend her wounds internal and external but are they sincere from daddy's
heart.
They will never part even though in mommy's heart she wishes daddy would leave forever.
One grief-some January 25 mommy rested never to return for her and daddy went on a
walk.
"Where is mommy", said baby but daddy couldn't talk.
What could he say "I beat mommy till I killed her leaving her internally bruised and brain
dead."
He couldn't say that any way for he was talking to Tiny in cell block five that day.
And baby has no other choice than to realize that his family was nothing more than a mere
disguise.
Sirens ring
Sirens ring
Battered and bruised mommy cries for help as she fights for her life.
Because daddy has beat her till her eyes turned dark as night.
It's ironic because baby has become a fighter in Saturday fight night.
I want to wear
a bishop's hat
nothin' else
just that.
Best seller
“Gone Girl” a novel by Gillian Flynn
Riddles, my wife loved games of amusement
I never found out the clue of why
she had gone missing, accuse me?
I was spent on our anniversary
Under mysterious circumstances
Nothing is what it seems
Nick and Amy’s duality
Identity, masculinity
For once I didn’t feel like I was struggling
Iconic cool girl persona
The girl men like Nick want
Never get angry, party girl, let men do what they do
Women’s issues, an essay Amy would write
Molding herself into that girl reinventing herself
Image and alter-ego are everything!
Appearance verses reality
Genuine pleasure to read
Oh, she has the last word
A classic Who done it? distinct subgenre
Surprising and masterfully done
Amy is smart, self-aware with a vindictive psyche
Warning authors of their marriage
Nick’s side or Amy’s?
Two very different humans
They both prove to be unreliable
Awry, a thriller of unease
If you saw me dancing would you join in
Just come on over and jive right on to begin
When the music plays my feet just move along
So natural it's like they know every rock 'n' roll song
There doesn't need to be a party I swear it's true
And the dance steps you go with is totally up to you
Over the years the dances may have changed
But it's the beat that keeps your feet arranged.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Jesus was dead
There was no hope
Disciples' dread
How could they cope?
Christ crucified
It was all o'er
Crowd stupefied
Death they deplore
Messiah killed
What more was left?
Dreams unfulfilled
All felt bereft
Laid in the grave
Still Saturday
Some sign they crave
To pave the way
Silent sadness
Could not believe
This mute madness
They could not grieve
They had to wait
For one more day
To witness great
Miracle sway
Patience tested
They did not know
One day rested
Christ would then show
What did they do
On Saturday?
The select few
Had lost their way
Led by Peter
They went fishing
No wait's sweeter
When faith's missing
Let us rejoice
Sunday's coming
Crush Satan's voice
Rout doubts numbing
One day will change
Your lifelong wait
A marvel strange
Resuscitate
Christ rose again
On the day third
Let's say Amen
God proved His Word
No dejection
No need to mope
Resurrection
Needs patient hope
Starting to wonder if anyone's here
I mean besides me and my lack of cold beer
It's too bloody 'ot to play in the garden
And the mowing can wait til it's cool
I was building a wharf but it kept getting harder
Sunshine 's nice but I got dizzy as 'ell
Power drivers are nice for screwing things up
But bending to lift them well I aint no pup
I tried t' work slower an' still gerrit done
But there's an impossible dream
Six cold bottles of water 'ave all disappeared
Swallered in one bloody gulp
I wore me ol' 'at but in spite 'r that
I think me brain's turnin' t' pulp
My sciatica's startin' t' scream
An' I'm doin' all this for the sake of some fish
Who really could live in the stream
The koi pond is pretty
There's no doubt o' that
and the wharf now just needs a few screws
It matches the bridge that I built in the Spring
Some muscular young time ago
Maybe some rum and coconut milk
Or a dash of iced mango and twist
Oooh I think that's a twinge in me wrist
I read a notice in the paper about a free Church dinner
“I’m going, this will be a winner”
Saturday morning I sped out to eat
Thinking this is really a big treat.
I walked thru the big arch doors
Heard an organ playing on the first floor
“Gee that’s nice, music while you dine
This had to be just something real fine.
So many people sitting in rows
Ends of the seats all taped with bows
This may be a long wait to eat I thought
I remembered there were no tickets to be bought.
A young lady approached me with a smile
I asked if this was going to take awhile.
Long table with candles at the front of the church
But I didn’t see any food during my search.
A man up front, a waiter I thought to be, told me to come forward
With all the people still waiting, I felt really awkward
The organ played, I thought now I will get my meal
Everyone stood up as the lady came down, “my gosh this is unreal’
The waiter asked me ‘do you take her’
Couldn’t well hear, I was in a blur,
Thought he said “do I want take out”
‘Yes he does’ a man did shout.
The waiter then asked me for the ring
Didn’t know that was something to bring.
Then I notice she carried a pale blue bouquet
I then realized, a shock hit me---- ‘mayday” “mayday’
The waiter exclaimed, ‘you may now kiss your wife
“She’s now married to you for life”,
The wedding march sounded, what did I say?
I know now never to go to church on Saturday,