Best Steele Poems
"Invisible World"
seen but not heard
behind our masks
the mind hides
from our reflection
caught in each other’s eyes
the light being borne
from butchered past
leaves us confused and blind
we are the lonely people
seen but not heard
behind our masks
we shine our stories
paint our rhymes
over hearts still singing
there remains love
still moving
in our invisible world
it is marking time
(LadyLabyrinth/2021)
gvlm
"Invisible World" / Tony Steele & The Massacre
https://youtu.be/d0Kvme-NvRY
I was in-processing my Army unit in Germany when the fortieth anniversary of D-Day happened; but, alas, I couldn't leave. I wanted so much to be there to meet the old surviving veterans, to shake their hands and hear their stories. I had read accounts of D-Day-- June 6th, 1944. I had already seen several times the film The Longest Day, based on the book by Cornelius Ryan.
Eventually my family followed me back to Germany, and we later took a vacation that included Normandy.
We visited Sainte-Mere-Eglise, and I pointed out the manekin of Private john Steele--the paratrooper that had gotten stuck on the church's steeple.
We visited the upper German fortifications of Point Du Hoc, where Army Rangers fought their way up impossible cliffs.
We paid our respects at the US war cemetery on Omaha Beach, and my sons and I walked where so many Americans had died to free Europe.
My wife was very somber and respectful at these sites; she is French, and grew up hearing stories of the German occupation.
I often still watch on June 6th either The Longest Day, or Saving Private Ryan, and try to imagine my forebears on those beaches.
A foreman for the city does reap
Lots of overtime and a city heap
The streets covered with snow
My heap’s heater says “no”
I just long for that thing they call sleep
Randy Steele
Horrible Boss (and more) contest
“I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination”
A Rambling Poet
One path finds the door
Traveled only from the heart
Through the eyes to life
Hovering about
Dragonflies of all colors
Dancing with sunshine
A mystery world
Sparkling glass dimpled with life
Guarded by cattails
Nervous chatters above behold
A strange sense of company
I watch a miracle unfold
From behind a red oak tree
I hold my breath, don’t make a sound
Slowly peeking bit by bit
Tugging, jumping and playing around
Four unaware fox kits
The wind became my enemy
My scent from it they stole
No hesitation, instantly
They scampered down their hole
Astonished, I ponder what a rare sight I had just witnessed.
The tranquility of being surrounded by huge trees envelops me as I walk around the pond’s edge.
Led by a bullfrog’s ballad, I hone in on its stage location.
Startled, the frog leaps into its safe haven and disappears into thick vegetation.
The setting sun glimmers in the wake of the bullfrog, as does my reflection.
I watch until the water’s surface is smooth again.
A rustling in the brush directs my attention to a doe and her fawn wandering in search of a tender morsel.
The long shadows of dusk begin a tale of nocturnal beauty, a revelry to the nightlife to dance with a miracle world.
Content, I find myself back at the threshold of my heart.
Leaving the world that will some day surround me, a horn blaring taxi barely misses me.
Haiku, Rhyme, Narrative
Randy Steele
Three Gems contest
August 7, 2011
One dark, blustery night with storm clouds thickening
I peeked out of my window, but couldn’t see a thing
My hands cupped as blinders, and squinting very hard
A brilliant flash of lightening lit up a dark graveyard
The sky became a lightening show and thunder it did roll
Displaying in that graveyard a massive totem pole
It boasted such a dignity and stood there as a guard
Crested with an eagle that watched the whole graveyard
Storm clouds threaten to explode with tears of lament
For all buried in that graveyard is to someone heaven sent
Dad got back into the car as the angels began to cry
We drove from that graveyard under the eagle’s watchful eye
Each night before I sleep, lying in my bed
With exciting sights of the day dancing in my head
The memory I recall the most, the one I can’t discard
Is a flat tire on a stormy night, totem pole and graveyard
Randy Steele
August 13, 2011
I know what I’m doing is right
Not like I’ll be gone every night
The cupboards are bare
No one seems to care
Each time I find work it’s a fight
I wish I could change my life course
Not balking nor having remorse
All methods I try
It still makes me cry
When I ponder my enemy source
I sort out my problems in vain
Revealed on my face my disdain
It’s not worth the stress
I have to confess
Uncertainty drives me insane
Randy Steele
"Me Against Myself" contest
June 28, 2011
"Gutter Hearts"
He’s got a gutter Heart
bleeds words that birth
diamonds sharp on his tongue
They hit her like
bullets from an Uzi gun
Silent, her heart implodes like molten marshmallow
She’s standing in the cafeteria
moving grease with a smile
that cuts his goat’s cheese like sharp steele
He licks his fingers
his tongue stings, he's still burning in Chile
while his mind calculates her
Unknown to him
She moves white white to black calculated,
his cufflinks are mounted with Pearls
She spells him
a long sentence
dripping from her eyes onto
an empty plate of dreams
He writes what comes to his mind
on a paper napkin, a story
smudged with tears and cigarette ash
the words slip out slippery
antiquated, smashed.
“What would you like?”
she takes his order
“A Normal Girl,"
he passed his payment in cash
She smiles
and thinks, he’s the No Go Zone
He’s living in another world.
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
When there’s just too much news
That has more wrongs than right—
I watch those old westerns
In good old black and white.
I’ll watch that Rocky Lane
Or that Johnny Mack Brown—
Tim McCoy or Buck Jones—
Ones that once were around.
Ken Maynard and Kermit—
The ones that we forgot—
They come alive on film;
Show us all what we’re not.
They’ll never come again
In daylight or the night—
They ride on in our minds
In good old black and white.
There’s still Fuzzy St. John
And big Smiley Burnette—
On scratchy cellulose
That we’ll never forget.
Lash, Dean, Steele and Wakely,
Still grace that silvered screen—
Roy, Gene and old Hoppy
Were the best that we’d seen.
And where have they all gone?
Gabby Hayes, Andy Clyde?
Yes, we can still see them,
Even though they have died.
Yes, when the world’s too much
And we can see no light—
I watch those old westerns
In good old black and white.
At first I thought I was mistaken
But her eyes kept diverting to me
Unsure and a little bit shaken
Taken back by a Russian beauty
I’d watch her walk past my apartment
An exciting, self confident walk
Auburn hair and a smile heaven sent
I just knew with her I had to talk
Sitting on the porch in the courtyard
Relaxing, enjoying the night air
Sneaking up and catching me off guard
My dream girl Russian beauty so fair
Her sitting next to me changed my life
We talked leaving out not a thing
How I met Elizabeth, my wife
Of twenty-six years and still counting
Randy Steele
Lost and Found contest
“come fluttering words, come drifting words to me…”
A Rambling Poet
A mere housemaid awakens before morning light.
Eyes wide, she bolts upright to the bed’s edge, as if late for work, though she
never is.
Another beautiful day to labor away.
Polishing silver all day has its advantages.
Each piece polishes to a looking glass, each a porthole to her dreams.
As she stares into the final polished vase, her weary face transforms into the face of
a lovely, fair skinned maiden.
Soft red lips highlight her perfect cheek bones and straight nose.
A simple pink ribbon holds her long, auburn hair in place.
Sparkling green eyes and a happy smile portray her excitement as she admires her
floor length pastel summer dress.
“Oh my, It’s time for my evening stroll,” she reminds herself.
Twirling once, she heads out the door leading to the apple orchard.
Barely noticing the orchard’s beauty, she strolls toward the stone steps leading to her favorite place, the stone rose garden.
Making her way down the steps, she immediately notices someone has placed two arrangements onto the platform from the stone cabinet.
As she bends to smell the flowers, she accidentally brushes some petals off, sending them floating to the platform and moss covered stone walk.
Closing her eyes, she lets the essence take her back a dozen years to a young girl
planting pink roses with her mother.
“There’s not a lot of room to plant,” her mother would say. “Two inches of soil between all this stone is what we have to work with.”
She opens her eyes to find herself staring into the polished silver vase.
Her tired, smudged face reminds her it’s time to go home.
Something different catches her eye in the polished looking glass.
Her long auburn hair is no longer neatly bundled under her cleaning bonnet, but held in place by a simple pink ribbon.
Randy Steele
July 25, 2011
"What Is She Thinking?" contest
Eyes
meet briefly
as we dance
with another.
Cheeks
flushed hot
disclose secret desires.
Randy Steele
Dr. Ram Mehta's Septolet Contest
Your love embraced me.
Streamline muscles rippling.
Strong and statuesque –
Sweet mesmerizing
Steele gray eyes that melt my heart.
Pierced my resistance.
Every tomorrow
We two became one essence.
Forever converged.
© February 2, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Bountiful castles with walls of sand
Each grain an intricate part
Albatross squawk in high demand
Con morsels from those with soft hearts
Hot bodies bask in the blazing sun
Bikinis boast dangerous curves
Lifeguards patrol tanned to well done
As surfers show off their steel nerves
Nautical transports battle the swells
Kites soar aloft dot the sky
Enveloped in rays and happy kid yells
Transfers to a new level high
Blankets of color protect fragile skin
Immense weight of stress melts away
Nod off gently and try to imagine
Going to work every day
On a beach where work is like play
Randy Steele
Beach Blanket Bingo contest
Root beer; root beer floats.
Chocolate wrappers on the floor;
Christmas ornament stories.
Number names and Remington Steele,
golden days, Egyptian ways.
The camera: cold January water.
Noodle soup too hot to drink,
ice cream and coloured sprinkles.
A world within worlds.
Corner gas and sewing a onesie,
the laughter, nonsensical.
Rebellious, harmless games,
and "excuse my reach."
Talking, lights out, shushed,
and still, more laughter.
No siblings, yet twins.
Together. Sisters.
Memory upon memory like
layers of apple pie.
The wind changed, pictures
fly like crumbling leaves.
"Best Friends together,
For now, and Forever."
I miss you.
Pick up the phone
You will not know until you call
Pick up the phone
She may not want to be alone
Dismiss any reasons to stall
Your smooth talking voice says it all
Pick up the phone
Randy Steele
Dr. Ram Mehta's Rondelet contest