Best Smacks Poems
**For Ruben O, My little Bro**
(This poem was written and a recording made for the contest sponsored by Team Poetrysoup which was deleted before it was judged. I wonder if this would have received a placement?)
Alarming, how analog clocks can tock back,
sound-off each morning like those hungover barflies
at the laundromat who dive-bomb
buzzing dryers as bleached belles
in heels attack threadbare tiles
with a stomach-turning, M60 click clack,
click clack. All night cafes fare
no better, terrify with their red-eyed twit-ter-
to-woo owls, their jingle-jangle spoons.
Heartlessly, the freaky knock-knock joke
of a barista smacks-down the expresso machine —
grounds for a massacre behind the counter.
The plink-plunk of rainfall deafens.
Birthdays send you into a panic. Too risky,
the onslaught of jubilation, the grenades that wait
in overblown balloons. New Year’s Eve brings histrionics.
Nightmarish, the yellow chimeras of construction
and every screaming chick-a-dee-dee-dee...
Ear plugs are a given.
Heaven is a soundproof room.
Even that plan holds more than a hiccup or two.
Horror resounds everywhere.
Babies thunder by in hot-rod strollers.
Frightening: the gurgles, giggles, ear-splitting rattles.
In the nursing home, an awful rasp of life
roars behind a tissue-thin curtain,
the horrendous lisp of oxygen, so deathly loud.
Silk wading thru wistfully warm sea waters,
my dreaming fingers have lingered to potter
with ocean surface, sun sparkled glitters.
My poetic pieces have gone full twitter
in charmed waters of crystal clear rarity
where I felt God's love soothe life's severity.
Slowly easing into ocean powered waves,
my playful moods have seriously caved
from forceful, salt stinging, brutal wave smacks.
My body has ached sea bruised, blue and black.
Rough seas crudely taught me joy may survive
despite waves of fright that savagely arrive.
Now, reaching the end planks on my journey's pier
and viewing my twilight's approach so clear,
it's past sunshine glitters that most sustain
these concluding sea views for my earthly gain.
Yet, I know without crass waves that abused,
wading joys would not have peaked this enthused.
Of Dandelions and Roses
Among the bricks and stones
dandelions persist, finding
any smallest egress to pop
through.
My Irish Grammie called me
her "Rose so sweet"
Truth is - I am a dandelion
Life tried its best to quell my growth
Circumstances played jacks with my life
Always, some persistent genetic inner seed
grew to maturity and became a will of iron
wielding a mace most fierce
Like a child's paddle ball, I bounced back,
no matter how many smacks came my way
Life paved me over, but, determined,
I broke the pavement again and again
Roses are sweet and elegant and fragile
Dandelions are pugnacious warriors
Rose are clipped and put in pretty vases,
dandelions force themselves toward sunshine
I am a dandelion
Lady liberty, hold your flame light high,
Beware the path thy cross, in the wild undiscovered
Wilderness of the U.S.A.
For it is here a fierce native predator,
Stalks the rocky ranges bad lands,
Behold the American mountain lion.
Known as the cougar.
Nature's solitary soldier, walks with
Silences stealth and predatory cunning.
Beneath the thickets underbrush,
The beast does savor, upon his preys weakness,
And relishes the hunt of engagement.
Secretive creature, an apex hunter,
Wearily observing, his natural habitats
Surroundings, this king
Survives by tooth and claw alone.
Once hunted to the brink of extinction,
At the hands of mankind, and greed's bounty.
Nobility's instinctual majesty, has reclaimed
His mighty throne, on the cliff tops high.
The cougar, represents a come backs promise,
We as American's shall leave none of our
Own behind, has recovered and announces
His arrival with a mighty roar.
In the heights forbidden realm, the big horn sheep,
Smacks his antlers against his reveling foe,
It's soundings echo is heard for miles,
Abreast the whitening fallen snow,
But the great feline lord, has now returned,
To his ancestral territory, a shadow flash,
Of golden brown, a royal phantom to
The art of war, clashing with basic instincts
Desire to survive.
Behold the pride stands tall, upon the
Red bands of freedom, nay liberation’s
Symbol soars above the lion's den,
Beneath the night's sky shines with
Old glory's stars hanging in beauty's favor,
We honor him, this the great American lion,
The Cougar.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Tediously bored, Sir Drake
Prolonged afternoon of tea and cakes
Jam coats his chin with gooey paste
A beard of crumbs hangs from his face
His manner somewhat hard to grasp
Small fingers smother giddy laughs.
.
To sup he’d need a tuning fork
to confound the smacks from lamb and pork.
Lanky strands of cabbage slaw.
Gravy splashes grease his jaw
Pastries flurry dandruff flakes
A grubby mess, grandiose Sir Drake
Theodore Aka Teddy Bear
With soggy paws and matted hair
Needs a scrub from his stout chin
to the furry spats about his shins.
Carried off by loving arms
A bath restores his stately charm.
RED-
Pillar boxes that stand open-mouthed
Waiting to be fed.
And plump ripe strawberries,
Dipped in sugar,
Smothered in cream.
Or just popped in your mouth
And squashed between your teeth
YELLOW-
Buttercups that shine under your chin
To give away your secrets.
And hot corn on the cob
That drips with butter
And smacks your lips.
PINK-
Candyfloss,like fluffy cotton wool
That glues to your fingers
And disappears in your mouth.
And gooey icing on the top
Of long sticky buns.
GREEN-
Grass that prickles your skin
When you run barefoot.
And unripe apples
Hanging from trees
That beg to be eaten
Till your tummy hurts!
ORANGE-
Fruit that juices your throat
And dribbles your chin.
And bonfire flames
Glowing and warm
That crackle and spit
And reach with poker fingers
If you get too near.
VIOLET-
Like the flowers, and the lilac
In blossom time.
And sweet smelling lavender
That crushes itself
On your hands
And reminds you of Grandma.
BLUE-
Sky on a clear sunny day
That dangles above your fingers
Just out of reach.
And the warm sea
That plunges you
Into its' playful waters
And wraps you up
In its' waves.
And then there are
Multi-coloured things,
Like ribbons,ballons and streamers.
Kites that play chase with the wind.
The wings of butterflies
And painted carnival faces.
And of course the rainbow
That appears bright and magical,
Soaring high above
Houses and tree tops
On to nowhere land,
Lighting up the sky
With its brilliance.
Then is gone,
Scattering itself
To be remembered
Among colour favourites.
PASSION OF LOVE
Red is the color of love
Red smacks of passion
Passion pumps through the veins
Passion froths with emotion
Emotion graces hugs and kisses
Emotion embraces with eyes
Eyes that see deep into your soul
Eyes that color your world
World so warm
World of grace
Grace of tender loving care
Grace so beautiful
Beautiful cornflower skies
Beautiful magenta sunsets
Sunsets where we hold hands
Sunsets that brim with surprise
Surprise with tinkling flutes
Surprise with signature rings
Rings of promise
Rings of lifetime
Lifetime of togetherness
Lifetime of yada
Yada constructed each day
Yada is to intimately know
Know as if drinking your soul
Know each inch of your flesh
Flesh from head to toe
Flesh that blushes full ******
****** of release
****** of euphoria
Euphoria that lingers
Euphoria that must be maintained
Maintained through good and bad
Maintained with ample breath
Breath of kisses
Breath through ups and downs
Downs draw us apart
Downs draw us closer
Closer to your heart
Closer to eternity
Eternity brings ultimate pleasure
Eternity from youth to old age
Age does not divide love
Age kindles what it preserves
Preserves like delectable fruit
Preserves eternal bond
Bond of Love
Bond of marriage
Marriage
Love
~
1/25/2017
Bent love never dies; it just keeps bending.
Until it morphs into a burning boomerang.
That smacks you in the chambers of your half-mast heart.
I breathe inside a three-bedroom chasm.
Somewhere between happy and what-ifs.
Saying hello to a twenty-six-year-old echo.
Of close calls and head-on crash regrets.
You deserve a good life.... I don't.
You've taught me, after decades of decline, what unconditional really is.
It's that satin island that I've been sailing toward upon this broken ship.
Even though I screwed you into the rotting wood of my id.
I'm truly happy that you landed softly in a heart.
That gave you that elusive elixir called
"What I couldn't give."
So thoughtfully busily going to the tomb
Were you enamored with words from the womb
Verbally gurgling did you succumb
Or did it come later in life
Likened to lightning spelling you under
Suddenly there before hearing the thunder
Rapidly vapidly words in your head
Were ringing and clamoring yet to be said
At work in your garden editing hedge
Trimming unwanted excess
It smacks of sedition this growing ambition
To put plants in orderly rowed inhibition
Sun reaching in silent distress
The beauty of discipline held up to view
In close captivated submission
In ranks and in rows uniformly disposed
Earthbound and holding attention
Yet openly Stubbornly free
They continue to grow.
To Flander's field poppies
And crosses akin
They are harvests of memory to reap
Promises planted to keep
Foray of explosive sunset —
natural fireworks on display.
A banquet of clouds, rolls in wet,
rolling up their sleeves in melee.
The confusion has its beauty —
thunderous blue, gray and white clash.
Diffusion smacks hued patootie.
Sea of the air throws quite a bash.
Brightly colored dresses behind
this curtain of discontentment.
A leprechaun’s gold, silver-lined —
cloaked rainbow’s tittle presentment.
Drink to me only with thine eyes*
the poet says, stirred as they wade.
The belle’s fluttering lashes sigh.
Are they orange or lemonade?
1/11/2021
Watered-Down Juice Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Used HMS, 8 syllable lines, 16 lines
*Ben Johnson’s Song: to Celia
No snow can ever fall without your memory
punishing and pushing me into a dark reverie.
Watching snow fall, I see your face, feel your touch
and fade into a tangled web of sensory rush
until I am bleak like snow when turned to mush.
Snow of bright, gleaming thick layers
reminds me of me when still truth spared.
Then, when snow browns with man’s grime,
I feel my heart bruises sharply combine.
Making love in a remote cabin should not
have happened, only the fire was not a lie.
Your deceiving words of love’s design
were words I believed as I gave my all to you.
By fire, I submitted, pliant and fully subdued.
As we lay entwined in love’s aftermath
you stabbed me with words that attacked.
As the fire cracked, my heart burned black.
You spoke of your wife, your still married life,
and confessed lying to get me in the sack.
Smugly, you shared a hope I was okay with that.
I could not speak, I felt only emotional smacks.
Fire was the only sound when you fell asleep
and a rage grew in me much to raw to keep.
How strange to watch myself from outside myself,
to see myself rendered into anger tremors
as I rolled you into the fire’s splendor.
I heard your screams muffled in fire’s temper
until you were reduced to ash and embers.
One does not earn
sainthood. Often
the most unlikely
of men considered --
as with St. Paul, an
early persecutor,
murderer of Christians
on the road to Damascus
struck blind --
when it
is time, God's time,
He chooses~ smacks
oblivious soul upside
the head...his first conscious reaction
is that of awesome dread~ startling revelation
one really not having liberty to debate
nor decline
Like water into wine
as hands-on
carpenter, son transformed
to Blessed Soul Cleansing
Sacrificial Son Divine.
Slouched in the chair, with the lights off
Bottle in her hand she’s
Amused, by the illusions she’s having
No parents, dropped off at the steps of those who don’t even know her.
Who don’t even care
Don’t judge me!
Smoke slowly releases from her soft lips
She has no education no understanding
What comes after 10!
Who cares.
Her hair is wild as she smacks the guys hand away
That tries to touch her
You don’t know me like that!
Lost and no love
She sniffs away the powdery
Snow that falls from the sky with no shoes on
Black eyeliner drips down her face
And her scent is unbearable
I have low- self esteem she says.
Her skirt rides up her backside
And her eyes roll back
She is at the point of no return
She is lost with no home and no one to love.
All because someone forgot to love her a little more
He was an angry wasp, zooming around the kindergarten classroom.
Stinging other children with hits, smacks, pops and bites.
They were terrified of him within the first hour or so.
The teacher was losing her cool, her anger was showing on her face now.
Even the kindergarteners who had not been stung did not care for him.
They did not like watching him hurt others, and they saw the teacher’s face.
She hated him, so they would hate him too.
It was what he wanted. He liked the validation.
It proved that his parents were right.
He was unlovable.
rain falls rain falls down
the girl walks in rain
inside she fills, fills and drowns
and she isn't going anywhere
tears fill tears fill eyes
the girl tries to hold on
she tries tries not to cry
and she is holding it in
he smack, he smacks her
the girl remains in silence
she's just, just a girl
and she can't cry tonight