Best Skateboards Poems
Come and gone like small twister
like the cloud of debris he’s left.
Echoes of Charlie Brown’s buddy Pigpen
blow through the cobwebs in memory.
Left over coffee cups replacing
Transformers still dumped in the attic.
Reams of knarley skateboards, wheel-less,
lay in piles like so much unburnable refuse.
The obligatory hugs and peck, over and done
the never paid chauffeur collapses…
Ah, to have him always near,
So, each kiss was not quite so dear.
The last fair maid on parade has wandered across
the home front, wondering about her predecessor,
still tacked with magnets to the fridge,
still part of my heart and his…
Sons…they say, do not cause such angst.
Couldn’t prove it by this mother.
This maternal blimp of unused helium
was not permitted a girl child.
One did come and fleetingly leave before formed.
We’ll never know the sweetness of her.
Let the image of his manly self disperse, this son..
into the mist as his Father’s has…
to be remembered again, only in times of need, his need,
for to do anything else, would be to rub salt
in an open wound.
Poet: D. Guzzi
*the day after Christmas
For children, summer is swing sets and slides,
ice cream or snow cones, carnival rides,
the school bell’s last ring as kids flee the school,
hot dogs at ball games and days at the pool.
It’s pitching a tent and eating s’mores,
then down at the lake with rowboat and oars.
Summer’s the chasing of fireflies at night
and telling of ghost tales in flickering light.
It’s skateboards and bikes and just feeling free,
a volleyball net in the sand by the sea.
It’s summer vacation in one’s family car
with stops at motels when traveling far.
It’s sitting on blankets, eyes up at the sky
while watching the fireworks on Fourth of July
Summer’s a caterpillar; we want it to c r a w l,
then turn into a butterfly, the brightest of all!
It’s corn on the cob, and ever so sweet -
the melon the kid in us all wants to eat!
May 30, 2019
For Sheri Fresonke Harper's Objectifying A Season Poetry Contest
What If?
What if guppies and goldfish could swim through the air?
What if birds could only relax by sitting in a chair?
What if spider webs looked like charming bungalows?
What if cheese sticks had to be hunted out in the jungle-os?
What if curtains were carefully hung up in the Maple trees?
What if cookies only came from buzzing little bees?
What if horses were allowed to take rides on our backs?
What if skateboards could take a ride on the rail road tracks?
What if Saturdays came more than just once a week?
What if at your birthday presents you could take a peek?
What if alligators played music every time they’d sneeze?
What if teachers taught Algebra to the chimpanzees?
What if delicious gumballs grew out in the yard?
What if scoring soccer goals wasn’t all that hard?
What if arching rainbows were something you could touch?
What if with each of the colors you could skip Double Dutch?
What if the medicine that the doctor gave you tasted like ice cream?
What if you and your best friend could go to sleep and dream the same dream?
What if all of these things were completely true?
It wouldn’t matter at all to me because I would still love you.
Below are the majority views of students about to vote
for their next high school head-captain:
Nelson:
He is tall and handsome,
plays for our basketball team,
knows the best bars in town,
hates maths, just like us.
Pitt:
He's shy,
hates proms and games,
he's a nerd,
he wears heavy glasses
Charlie:
He's a perv and a chain smoker,
heavy metal is his friend,
never talks much,
but rocks in raving!
Kelvin:
An "A" material, and spends more time
in the library than in bed.
He believes in extraterrestrials.
We think he should visit a shrink or something....
Hosea:
He's very smart and funny,
active in spoken word,
hates politicking,
certain for a scholarship,
very good with skateboards....
................................................................................
Hosea made the cut,
but forcefully. Majority
of students threatened
that they would steal his
skateboards, if he didn't
stand for the coveted position
as the head-captain......
Birthdays, reunions, vacations and hikes.
Weddings, divorces and photos of tykes.
Vids of grandkids on their skateboards and bikes.
These are the things every cyber Friend 'Likes'!
The Skatepark
One day we met at skatepark
On our skateboards we rolled away
The things we had to say,
We chatted about our lives
Our triumphs and our love for skatebording
Little did we know
We would let our feelings show,
In each other we have grown to care
To each other we are always there,
I am so that glad we met
At the park on our skatebords
We have a friendship that is true,
I am thankful that I met you.
COSMIC HEART
There once were places in this world where you could escape
but now the whole globe is wrapped with investigation tape.
So when I want to get away and leave this mess behind
I find myself diving out the back door of my mind.
I’ve jumped onto Orion’s belt, and did some giant swings
and slid down the back of Scorpio without a single sting.
I’ve learned to shuffle galaxies like they are decks of cards
and play roulette with asteroids with total disregard.
I’ve ridden comets like they’re skateboards and bowled with satellites
wearing suits of stardust and ties of ultra violet light.
I once jumped into a wormhole, wound up behind my mind
reading all the thoughts I’d think in some future time.
I’ve joined cavalcades of stars in the universe of laughs
and swirled in seas of jokes till eternities had passed
One day I’ll set an orbit around the cosmic heart
bound there by the force of love, never to depart.
Happy Endings
A long day in the office is just a prelude
to the kaleidoscopic formations
gathered beneath store front close out sales
and pigeon feathers as I head for the station,
the five o’clock hopefully on time
Strolling down the naked street,
I follow brick facades and paint chipped doorways,
listening to music from open windows above,
static to the sleeping trios
with silenced violins in cases of quarters
Whiskey bottle wind chimes
tinkle on the curb in high pitched sonatas
floating on waters from washed dogs and cars,
denting front lawns in tread mark stupidity
as the city pulls out the stops
Sirens join in the festivities,
out of tune with hopes for happiness,
but running red lights just the same
as envious teenagers fall from death metal
logo’d skateboards, tearing already torn jeans
And as I wonder why no one smiles anymore,
a yellow cab stops, the back window rolls down
“Need a lift buddy?” and before I can answer
I see her as she pats the seat next to her
and motions me in
As the car pulls away I ask, “Where we headed?”
“To the sunset, I hear it’s beautiful this time of day”
she giggles then leans over and kisses me
“How was your day handsome?” she asks like a song
“Perfect now, I just love happy endings”
I saw an old man with tired eyes
lean over a fence and
throw apples at the boys skateboarding along the side walk
thought he was angry
looked like he was mad
seemed upsetting
was sort of sad
but the boys on the skateboards caught each one then
munched on their apples
as they bobbed on
next thing I knew an apple flew my way
caught it shined
it tasted sweet
talked to the old man
his name was Pete
with his Irish accent and
sported black shiny boots
and a green tam
Pete told his story
about the apple ambushing
they take me back he said
to my childhood days
when I could play and be merry
they help me forget what war took away
brothers young and some just married
I planted an apple tree for the love of my life
Petrified pottery ponders plots. Ploys play putting purring. And a frantically fraternising pickle arch can glow on many a skyline at dusk. In many hues. Many dusks many arches many hues and many hues mean many hundreds and many hundreds mean invite to investment of innermost inherited insectivorous institutionalised ignorant ignoramus's ingots'. But glowing of an ear bug is common in a torque typed torture chamber and a chamber is not a champion nor a charred crispy cross crossed conifer. Camels that eat hard cheese are said to be better prophets than penguins on skateboards. Fornicating false frocks falsely fall. And a little black and grey horse was speaking kindly to a tiny ball of fur which turned out to be a mouse name but cat in shape and body. How rather cruel! And derogatory too. Yet the smirking slug like actions secreting slime of a prawn headed monster with many man tentacles' and tentacles are terror and definitely not treacle treading treats. Salivate not a big bit of pie then? Fir pie is a composition of sorts types and kinds and akin to a pulsating ball of confused idiosyncratic ideological wisdom of orders originating from a glass bottom jug which weighs forty two kilos and cost eleven cities, two million towns, twenty thousand small villages, and ten hamlets. These are in a deposit global zone. A whirl of supposed suppository suppers in stupors seen but senseless. It is wise to break a mould then to create a new work for the art show shower. And bathe before baking the perimeter of pie. For pie without radius is a ravishing radish reaching radii. And how polite is a polish then? No ha no x and a big x to it as well. And one should always dangle mirrored glasses while wearing a sun hat and riding a one centimetre bull down the tidal bores. Z refurbishment z at two hens to twenty one ducks at half time. Z
I grew up in Bath in the nineteen nineties
wearing short shorts over tighty whities,
while Bath were champions of English Rugby,
a beautiful city farfetched from ugly.
We played on Stilts and had Yo-Yo's,
skateboards with logo's,
Tamagotchi's, Slinkys and Pogo Sticks,
a string tied to sticks for Diablo tricks.
A lot wobbled, we played Wall Ball,
Smarties packets caused trouble.
Political Correctness didn't exist yet,
we wore Reebok, Fila or Hi-Tec.
We had Roller Skates, later Roller Blades,
out on the concrete in the streets we played,
as there were always lots of parking spaces,
space we used for running races.
We played Bulldogs Charge on repeat,
never stopping for the rain or sleet.
We played Wembley, or Heads, Volleys and Beats,
playing in the street our daily treat.
We played Kirby because kirbs were free,
40 40 in, also called Alien,
front gardens were a great WWF ring,
or we'd hit tennis balls tied to string.
Jumpers for goalposts,
or one and a lamppost,
cheated as we'd peek
playing Hide And Seek.
We played Knock Knock Ginger with its hiding,
or we'd get out our bikes and go riding.
We went Garden Hopping, never stopping,
played in the dark after the suns dropping.
We had Master Systems, Mega Drives or Nintendo's,
but were not reliant on technology inside,
we built Lego stadiums, played Subbuteo,
we collected sticker books, Pog's and trading cards with pride.
There was a fuzziness to Radio and TV,
we'd always sneak a peek at Page 3,
we watched films on VHS, played Cassettes or CD's,
or Conkers when they dropped from trees.
We only had four television channels to be flicking,
Saturday mornings were for Live and Kicking.
Bodger and Badger, The Chuckle Brothers, Rosie and Jim,
but you couldn't beata, bit of Blue Peter,
to Neighbours and Home and Away we tuned in.
When home alone emptied living rooms,
played football inside, 2-a-side,
cleaned up damage with brooms,
when parents got home we lied.
I'm proud I grew up in the nineties in Bath,
we had so much fun, so many laughs.
From no other time and place I'd rather be,
so here's to the nineties in the West Country.
I see city dwellers resting on concrete seats
Day dreaming a thought or two
The fragrance of coffee wafting out into the street
Here’s to the situated sparrow poking and jumping about
Searching for his daily opportunity
Honking cars and fuming buses some filled with people, some without
All moving quickly with a purpose to somewhere
The city is buzzing about at cool summer 78 degrees
Red lights, green lights an old man afoot singing to himself unaware
Just think of what he’s seen in a lifetime
Buildings coming down and sky scrappers going up
Constant motion and change and crime
Kids on skateboards with I-pods in their ears
Dial up phones to cell phones in everyone’s hands
I wondered if he had a humming in his head throughout these years?
Or was he busy in the past reading books he’d already read?
Isn’t interesting all the commotion mankind makes
While a small bird eats the crumbs from a piece of old bread
The mist on his glasses, perched on the end of his nose
Coffee cup sips, as he posed his points
Pacing up and down, up and down, up and down,
Tie whipping like his hands,
Accusing and deciding, one man jury, and judge.
And afterwards, when the crowds had melted away
And the subway like a fridge began to freeze
The icy wind grabbed hard on a pamphlet
And threw it at the man, bowed on his knees, praying.
Then, testosterone on skateboards roared down the yellowing tiles.....
His meditation snapped in half like his patience,
So he rose, stared for a long time at the barren ground,
And then dragged down the tunnel, with forgotten pamphlets paved.
With shouts of glee, twin hellions fled
across the park while I would tread
behind them. Always it was me
who had responsibility
of them, who acted so ill-bred.
They wouldn’t heed one word I said,
and I would watch them as they sped
on skateboards, weaving recklessly
with shouts of glee.
But then at night, with stories read,
they’d sleep like “princes” in their bed.
And Mom and Dad would both agree
they were so sweet. . . All I could see
were imps who’d wake to cause me dread
with shouts of glee!
April 19, 2022
For Regina McIntosh's Your Favorite Theme Poetry Contest
I know I should apologise but I ponder at my fault
I truly thought that every cat had abilities to vault
Most other times he ran away when I backed out of the drive
I mean it's only natural a cat's instinct to survive
I'll admit I've damaged other things like skateboards bikes and toys
But this time it was different you could tell so by the noise
Now the kids won't talk my wife won't talk I'm really in the pooh
Especially when I made that joke the one about cat stew
I said I'll buy another cat same type and age and fur
But unforgiving voices choired "He had a special purr"
What about a robot cat immune to hurt and pain
No support from either camp only looks iced with disdain
Eight times that cat survived a life with luck more apt than mine
I hap to be the luckless one who snuffed out number nine
Well old Tom I'm really sad and regret I did you wrong
So to prove my worth when I'm heaven bound I'll bring a mouse along
3/4/2023 Free Submission Sponsor: Sotto Poet