Best Shortly Poems
this anonymous weaver spins his written tapestry
to acknowledge your ninetieth year
no matter this author unknown who deftly weaves
(for pete sakes) with english poetry
which rhyming threads fire away
(from axons to neurons)
at warp speed way out there
attempting to coalesce into some semblance
of comprehension from non other than me
a veritable stranger,
who considers your a folk icon
that hoop fully destiny will spare
until one grain of sand takes thee
to eternal blue skies astride
astral throne like king henry
with minstrelsy folks housed in a place
like my father’s mansion poised far and near
intent to discern the adroit banjo finger picking
plucky talent admission for all – free
whose eponymous trademark
je nais sais quois legendary voice
rings like a bell in the air.
unsure if this epistle (possibly
coming across as all mixed up)
like some mish mashed verse
ye might arrange and rearrange into a song
living social in the country of upstate New York state
epitomizing spartan holistic existence
somewhere over the rainbow with a hefty purse
exemplifying decades of fame and fortune
that odds on favorite moost did highly rate
your fount of endless lyrical musical
natural playing style auditory tunes ears did immerse
themselves from just one man’s hand
whether newlyweds who did marry a loving mate
or others exhaling their final breath
afore crossing the river of Jordan inside the hearse
while the convoy chants the favorite chorus
abiyoyo with that standard amen for the late
mortal, whereby such preferential fanfare
for said loss of precious friend family doth curse.
little or no great expectations
(by dickens) feedback
will be forth coming to this average joe
who merely chose to plunk himself down here
and simply let spontaneity take full rein
this spur of the moment ode
(perhaps difficult to comprehend)
to a fellow you do not know and travel down
a shady lane (more akin
to a boulevard of broken dreams) in the main
with elusive passion to live in tandem with nature
whereby a garden this dad could hoe
reaping from sweat of thine brow afterward
upon festival of flowers this body will be lain
but the spouse prepared the siesta meal,
and hence now end this rambling poem to go
to ponder all my trials and tribulations
whilst in need to feed this body and brain.
I ENJOY A SATISFIED MUSICALLY INCLINED MIND
AND WISH THE WORLD FILLED WITH MORE OF YOUR KIND!
We Will Be Landing Shortly
By Elton Camp
People who fly might have a nervous fit
If they take a little peek inside the cockpit
Dials, knobs, switches and gadgets galore
No pilot can know what they are all for
The lives of those on board hang by a thread
Any serious mistake and they’ll all be dead
Who knows if the pilot has had a big snort
Or is sleepy as too late at night he did cavort
And perhaps at the most critical junction
Some instrument will decide to malfunction
But the law of gravity firmly does decree
The plane inevitably on the ground will be
Shadows are constant like a friend, but unlike a natural friend, shadows do not bear human emotions, or traits, which offers clarity and understanding. That is what makes shadows powerful, for it's not vulnerable to the frailties of human emotions that openly display individual weaknesses, where those who have control of said emotions can wield them to their advantage whereas the weaker willed individual, will succumb to theirs.
hungry and thirsty
solutions need to address
address replace need
Intellect is my shadow and friend as neither will cause harm to my person. Harm befalls the unheeding, an act caused by intellectual abandonment, thus, my shadow observes the folly and acts as a reminder and sets it to memory.
the moon makes a night
the sun makes a day and I
make the sun and moon
The church has a shadow, where I share familial upbringing as the intro factor, thus, 'A recent change of mind/acquired conviction', befalls upon longstanding, albeit, not 'belief' as it is subjective. I cast objective reasoning based on juvenile tendencies of a rebellious nature, but not a typical juvie as I toss intellect into the mix.
sensed observations
deduced logical outcomes
impacts life status
Present day, and counting ... The church and the families of my life, along with their shadows are now parted. I trust that the subjective beliefs that they held while in their lifetimes, they are all there now in the afterlife. Now, my intellect serves a greater part of my life as the shared shadows no longer reflects upon me, but not a smidgen less from my heart, soul, and mind. As my intellect moves with validation and purposed fulfilment, I believe I'm reflecting my intentions ... until my shadow advises change ...
once a family
a singularity now
The Word waits for one
Tomorrow will become today shortly
Today will retreat to yesterday shortly
Time waits for nobody
Time comes and goes
Without stops
We have wasted two years because of covid
But time will never compensate
When we're still small we want to grow up faster
When we are old we want to linger as long as possible
But time listens to nobody
When many friends passed away
I found that life is really short
And time is the cruelest man
We have to plan for something
And do something immediately
To feel time existence,to know time limits,to value time
Before it departs and disappears from this world
Your own world
When the dirt covers your body
you will truly remember all that you loved
all that you hated, it will grow through
your thighs, between your armpits
between your legs into your thoughts,
your secrets, dead and bloated,
no more pains no more worry,
just you and your secrets,
your tears and your fears, all melting
under the pressure of dirt, the black dirt.
Can you open your mind now,
the third eye, look outside
does anyone care, are there flowers,
visitors, or just fall reaching out
with its dry tears in shape of leaves.
Just an occasional stranger,
maybe a drunk, or a forgotten friend
also alone wishing he helped you out more,
shortly after, he is also gone.
Those you loved the most moved on,
picture of you in their valet replaced
thrown away, there is a new man,
new soul digging into your home,
sitting in your chair eating your
food drinking your wine, he was never stopped,
instead let in to walk all over everything
you ever worked for.
They say family
friends, best friends, all that
is just one big lie, another trick of an eye,
this wasn't it, The American Dream,
what was it all for, and for who was i here
all these years, under the hot sun,
over the hot grill, out in the field,
all that work over the years, for what
and for who, maybe this was just
for afterlife, or after people life,
i have become just the forgotten picture
in a forgotten home where love never was
only a dream, just the dream, dream.
This poem is going to end shortly
which is why I feel such pressure
to say something.