Best Semis Poems
Yellow Submarine comes on the radio.
Beatles music.
I press the accelerator, flying past semis who had been chasing each other.
Little Old Lady from Pasadena comes on next.
I go insane, setting a new world record for speed.
Mama Cass’s voice comes out of that radio.
It is ON!
Shades of my youth
When I blew two engines out of two cars.
Because I was that girl.
Categories:
semis, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
THE SOUND
(Lakeside Park – Denver - 1947)
number 5 pulls up
they pour out the trolley doors
entry all ablaze
that distant sound excitement!
eyes closed big smile what heaven!
i’m remembering
harry james in the ballroom
his flashing trumpet
the flight of the bumblebee
how the white coaster frame shook
dissonance
blaring semis
oil smoke
where once stood
that gay old carousel
Dave Austin
Categories:
semis, nostalgia,
Form:
Tanka
Experiment, the worth of kings,
no bonafide adventuring
not impinge, glory, noticing,
the trial of "over" ~ SING, BUT SING!
And over, 'til the mode be right,
that last decision, still up tight.
I've felt it oft, all nerves on edge,
have gone too far, my reasons dredge!
It is Inventing, cant resign,
the pulse of difference is my rhyme,
I'll just dive in, for one more time,
then still dig in, this idea's mine!
What closer skill can Man divine,
than right to change, with purpose fine,
not to relinquish my own kind
but build with vision, some new find!
To heal some soul . . . . from mortal bind!
Working with Inventors from the Midwest, some Immigrants, some of the ideas we saw become developed were ~ The radial tire, the round swing, round hay bale,
vise-grip, portable phone, highway breakers, tarps for Semis, ethanol plants, water cleaning equipment, faux diamonds, negative ion air machines, compost ideas, turn signals for autos. We worked on Patents in Omaha, Nebraska ~ Inventors from Denmark, etc. Ideas built America, Corporations like Sears Roebuck, helped the little guy. Let's get America back to those "ideals!"
Categories:
semis, adventure, dream, freedom, imagination,
Form:
Monorhyme
Find fun from four,
Starting with four-wheeler;
A vehicle like fancy car
Comforts the mind of the driver.
The Fantastic Four film
Fills your heart with excitement;
Superheroes emerge victorious
Because of their noble intent.
The Big Four at Versailles
Includes Vittorio Emanuele Orlando,
Woodrow Wilson, David Lloyd George,
And Georges Clemenceau.
The Final Four in basketball
Slug it out in crossover semis;
Conquerors meet in championship,
Vying to win the trophy's bliss.
Look for this nice number,
You can see statements galore;
Seek the joy it truly brings,
Find fun from four.
Categories:
semis, fun,
Form:
Verse
France beat Argentina four to three
In that game Mbappe was the key
Then they defeated Uruguay two goals to nil
As Uruguay's goalie let one spill
In the semis it was Belgium they faced
France headed one in with victory's embrace
They were in the finals, but who would they play
Would England beat Croatia and win the day?
As it turned out, the three lions couldn't roar
They were coming home with no trophy in store
So the final was set, Croatia and France
Two great teams would get their chance
In the finals France took a free kick
But when the Croatian defender did a head flick
The ball ended up in his own goal!
It seemed France would be on a roll
Croatia responded with a brilliant strike
It traveled so fast, it was rocket-like
But France added 3 more to the score
And they lifted the trophy once more!
Categories:
semis, soccer, sports,
Form:
Rhyme
A period here. a question mark there?
A handful of commas,,,tossed in the air
To fall all willy-nilly but he doesn't care.
Then he closes his eyes so he never sees,
And does it again with apostrophe's.
Next colons: and semis; are put through their paces,
And are frequently found in the oddest of places.
Quotations are more than just dressing or stuffing,
Yet often appear when "nobody said nuffing".
It makes reading a chore just to try to adhere
To a writer's directions of what to do where,
But you barrel on through 'til you get to the end,
Give your eyes time to uncross,
And then try it again.
Some poets abjure punctuation, for sure,
And though not a big fan,
I'm a reasonable man.
e e cummings, for example,
Responds to the call
By using little or no punctuation at all.
Author's note: To quote the author Cormac McCarthy: "If you write properly you shouldn't have to punctuate." Poets such as e e cummings, et al, apparently took him up on that. Please understand, dear reader, that this piece is punctuated incorrectly to make a point. And I blush to admit that I, myself, am overly fond of "quotation marks" and…ellipses.
Categories:
semis, humor, writing,
Form:
Light Verse
-
Soon
the moon is black,
she is in mourning of the evening
Over the garden’s stones
Shadows are getting longer
from tomorrow
The confusion of the sky
The seedling of comets
The pulse of the planets
Will do nothing with the future
Just the scent of roses
Newly hatched
Seized of fear
In the sweetness of things
Back already.
--
–( own translation from : "éclipse et deuil du soir )
-
Bientôt,
la lune est noire,
elle porte le deuil du soir
Sur les pierres du jardin
S’allongent les ombres
de demain
La confusion du ciel
Le semis des comètes
Le pouls des planètes
Ne fera rien de l’avenir
Que le parfum des roses
A peine écloses
Saisies de peur
Dans la douceur des choses
Déjà de retour.
RC – 26 Mai 2012
Categories:
semis, feelings, light, night, space,
Form:
Free verse
I went to buy an R.V.
They said all I could afford was a Lose-a Beggo.
I bought a pair of alligator shoes.
But then I started wandering off into swamps.
Finally, I had to toss them, they were
really biting my feet.
I got arrested for tossing
an endangered species.
I got a fantastic price on a
1995 calendar.
I discovered the Missing Link.
(Of my broken chain).
Were cell phones invented for prisoners?
I bought a hot dog from a street vendor in NYC.
I guess he didn't like my looks.
He offered me mustard gas.
Speaking of hot dogs, I bought a $500
hot dog roller-grill machine.
But then I could no longer afford the hot dogs.
I'm so dumb I used to think hot dogs
were Dobermans left out in the sun.
The waiter asked me if I wanted some
mussels. I said I couldn't afford the
gym membership.
What's in a name?
Letters, I guess...
I use Military time, cause I
thought the o'clocks were just
for Irish people.
Did the Ottoman Empire
build forts out of armless sofas?
Someone told me they wanted to see Tibet.
I said, "Why?...No one will win."
I couldn't afford the colon cleanser, so I got a semi-colon cleanser.
Why do they call those big eighteen wheeler trucks "Semis"?
Where's the other half?
Whoever said "All good things come to those who wait" must've had a different
postman.
My neurologist calls me Mr. Numskull.
Someone asked me what my net worth was. I said I pay $9.95 a month to be
online.
I have so many electric pianos the electric company had to build another power
plant.
Amazon doesn't like me either. I ordered an 8mm camera- they sent me a
loaded 9mm gun with instructions on suicide.
Have a good one, more on their way.
(If you wish to unsubscribe to Tom's
Terrrible Tibits, Tough Nookies!)
Categories:
semis, funny, on writing and
Form:
Burlesque
A Winner in 2017 OHANA Woman Div 1
There I was, on a rollercoaster of anxiety with many an anxious moment...
Each time my player dropped a set against each of her squash opponents...
In the Qfinals she suffered a 3rdset hiccup to a player junior in her years....
Dashing the high hopes that player could wrap up the game in 3 quick sets....
This rival is a fast improving hard hitting junior player, tricky as they all come...
With a superior fitness and combative attitude, she was a constant danger until the game was done...
Next in the semis was another junior, another fast and furious player...
Who won the 1st set easily to set the pace, upped the ante to pressure my squash player....
Somehow my favored one prevailed to counter her opponent's energetic play...
Refusing to be drawn into a chessplay with muscle and brawn and power play...
So she made it to the final, there awaits top seeded player, a former international...
Last year she easily outfoxed and outplayed my player 3-0 in that final...
But for this repeat final, my player started off well and lead by 2sets initially....
Before a 3rd set loss, it was obvious the top seed was exerting control gradually....
My player hopeful was flustered, faulting someone for advising her to vary her game..
I was busy recording, wise enough to let the cookies crumble as it may....
Just managed to warn her that her rival was picking up the pace....
And that a real winner of any squash player should play a thinking varied game...
Luckily she played decisively for a quick lead in the 4th game, raced to 4-0.....
There were some anxious moments as she easily lost a couple of points....
Anxiety was all mine even as my player managed to lead comfortably on points...
She had to do some desperate retrieving and gave away some stroke points...
But long story short, it was one big joyous relief when the game was finally over...
The 4th set was won over, the mission accomplished, what a great feeling all over....
When favored player emerged triumphantly as the winner when all was over...
http://www.tournamentsoftware.com/sport/tournament.aspx?id=5E4ABBEB-3744-4BAB-940C-598E71343CB6
Categories:
semis, anxiety, celebration, emotions, for
Form:
Free verse
waiting
for completion
semis are halves endured,
bisecting your longing wait for
for wholes
Categories:
semis, endurance, sports,
Form:
Cinquain
as Las Vegas blood pours on Manchester in droplets the shape of poker chips scattered, dropped by a God laughing all the way to the bank
when the lattice streets, corners and cobbles and bridges of London bend with a gasp backward, with the suppleness of a rheumatic spine, to lay a hand over a Barcelona street and Parisian concert hall, whilst trying to shade a train track in Madrid from searing heat, although years before
where Dachau had no birdsong, its buildings walled away from ignorant eyes, death camps today are not so silent with their terror in plain sight, hidden inside vans and suburban semis, in red brick lecture halls, in hundred and forty characters that hashtag extremist slaughter
beside an Orlando rainbow strewn with special offer laptops that print out onto paper guides to gain a gun or build a bomb to ram a Berlin Christmas market where mulled scents of a year are muted by screaming wi-fi connections allowing a faceless anybody to sign up to chat rooms to fell fellow men for beliefs to better an already fallen foreign land, lost
alongside the fallen of the Great War that are not forgotten because they fall today, still - only now, in shorter pockets of horror: in broadband routed trenches untraceable; dug within devices cradled in a millennial’s palm
Categories:
semis, war,
Form:
Free verse
my dog, Beau loves Rex the TV dog detective from Canada
his head turns from side to side as he watches Rex
This dog is always in a precarious situation
Having to climb over semis and bridges to jump bad guys
Bad guys with guns who have horrible aim, never hitting Rex
Remnants of the 1960’s tv show called Lassie
Beau is barking instructions to Rex now, warning him.
It is hilarious to watch.
Often times Beau tries to climb up the cabinet into the TV
More entertaining than the times he catches himself in the mirror
Or barks warnings to his own reflection in our shiny credenza.
More later, Beau and I are on the edge of our seats. Rex is in trouble.
Categories:
semis, dog,
Form:
Narrative
There ain't no cure for me
There ain't no cure for anyone
There ain't no cure
for a society
based on
aesthetics
There ain't no cure
for a poem
that doesn't spill onto the page
There ain't no cure
for the subconscious
image conscious
We take common imperfections,
warp them into crippling deformaties.
Whe do we do this to ourselves?
Why are we so poor to ourselves?
Has this become
the only internal sensation
we can still envoke?
Have we become so stagnated,
the only feelings
we can foster
is self-loathing,
this anger
toward our own physical shell,
the satisfaction
of hating others?
There ain't no cure
for the tragedy of it all
Does this matter at all,
or am I just insane?
Does anything matter,
or are we all insane?
Are we mad from life,
or from lack of life?
There ain't no cure
for the contagious madness
from buses
from 80 year old grocery clerks
from Ronal Regan posters
from oversaturation
from vapidity
from turning tricks
from needles
from too many bad books
The mad driver
stomps the brake on the expressway.
Semis collide.
Radioactive sludge
splashes a bus of pregnant women.
Several months later,
mad mutant spawn
crawl to life.
There ain't no cure
There ain't no cure
There ain't no cure
for the tragedy of it all
There ain't no cure for time
Too short of time
Too long of time
Running out of time
Life's too quick
We wait too long
Too much time hating
Too much time sleeping alone
There ain't no cure
There ain't no cure
There ain't no cure
for lost time.
Categories:
semis, time,
Form:
Free verse
Econo Lodge sign
High
On
Its
Pylon
Best we can do
For you Tedeschi Trucks
To put a moon in the sky
Over this interstate interchange
Jammed with cars and a decrepit minor league hockey stadium
Advertising the glory days and beer swigging of The Wings
Glows over the deadbeat semis and construction cones
Tearing apart I-94 between Chicago and Detroit
Gleaming casino next city over
Mocking us all by suggesting
I’ll see you over here
The last great guitar players and their dwindling fans
In just a few more years
Yes it’s 2024
And for good our children have left the house
Its couches beds and kitchen table chairs
Like unstraightened frames holding all our wall photographs
Our dog doesn’t mind
Wags his tail with the additional luxury choices
For his many daytime naps
My wife and I look for familiar friends
Though we understand the band are total strangers
During these glorious last 14 years together with us
We don’t want to be creeps to Derek and Susan in love on stage
Though we were the first to love them both up there
I give a hearty wave anyway from the front seats
And I think through the spotlights there’s a smile or wink returned to us
The silhouettes
As the two and their band watch one another
Still mesmerized as they saw and sing the epic Shame
And we the audience smash our hands and shake our tambourine heads
How can the whole world not know more
About this travelling family of musical magic?
We know in our minds they’re the best band in the world
On the scale of Zeppelin or the Stones in their prime
But in the now
And here they are
Still looking good and cool and willing to share something better
Kind enough to stop over
Say hello
Between Red Rocks and Milwaukee
To this little rustbelt university town
Stadium filled only three quarters of the way with 4000 people
I’m sure a sop financially for somebody
But the masterful musicianship we joyfully hear
And we respond with whistles and cheers
As good as anyplace
As loud as ever
Afterward
Outdoors
The Econo Lodge moon buzzes and blinks in our rearview mirror
For our long drive home on I-94
Back to Lansing we go
Chasing breadcrumbs the dotted lines
Our hearts filled our ears ringing
Through the quiet speeding dark.
Categories:
semis, emotions, giving, music, song,
Form:
Free verse
Traveling the
transcendental highway
early in the morning,
simply an extension
of my daily yoga.
The great semis zip by
in both directions,
like elephants on roller skates
in the first light,
only a flat tire away
from disaster.
Like a zen master I travel
with the knowledge of a thousand days
behind, in front of, around, on the curve
effortlessly, without thought, immersed in thought,
hitting my marks,
Lakeville highway at 5:22,
Highway 37 at 5:37.
One little bead on a tail light chain,
and sometimes other masters from
a thousand trips will be recognized,
and we will travel together for awhile,
safe in the knowledge
that no one will make the mistakes of
the occasional traveler.
On most days, however,
this is a solitary trip,
with body alert and automatic pilot on,
the mind transcends time and space,
and answers to old questions appear,
poetry sprouts from magic synapses,
and many times I have created a world
of only me and you,
and all the things that I should have said
and done,
could have said and done,
are done,
all in the limitless space between
points A and B.
The old Greek had it right. If you touch an
infinitude of points,
you'll never get there.
But I am not that good yet
and still skip a few points,
and at 6:10 the stop light
on Golf Course road
interrupts the transcendental highway,
and a more mundane day begins,
Categories:
semis, allegory, introspection, philosophyold, old,
Form:
Blank verse