Best Swabbed Poems
Chamber of secrets
Locked in wisps of steel incense
Swabbed sulfur din
I stared into the mirror today.
I saw you -
a needled zealot
hovering around my left shoulder;
Adolph Hitler dressed in
opium-perfumed swatches.
You smelled like her.
You acted like him.
You looked like me.
Swastika tall and evenly abhorrent.
Syringe-insured yet,
never sharp enough to
successfully stab
outside the 50-point cork.
You slithered like a quadroplegic,
into my stratum.
Pointing and probing
a crooked finger -
never healing
the martyr's wound.
A broken grimace leaves me
ugly flesh to ponder.
Your tentacles:
toothless cleavers eclipse
black-dilated pupils,
servicing our
boomeranged arms
with dingoed malice -
peppermint leaves and peroxide boil
as the living corpse cackles.
Mussolini removed
thirteen quieted quills
from his heart
shortly before the noose was tied.
Into square knots.
Into napkin pleats.
Into a poet's silence - where
our self-induced stupor
was dragged upon
spiked cobblestones -
and for that,
my dear Stalin beauty;
I sew my spit into
vile words -
dribbling purposely
upon this diseased
cotton-swabbed
canvas
for you
and I
to clean.
*Image of Sailing Ship by Pixabay.
Course Of The Tradewinds
Fair winds nudge the sails, as thoughts wane the souls,
talks start out its trails, whilst the crest waves rolls,
whilst the crest waves rolls, talks start out its trails,
as thoughts wane the souls, fair winds nudge the sails.
Men and sea outlast, yet men's souls yearn home,
stubborn sea steadfast, as dreams match seafoam,
as dreams match seafoam, stubborn sea steadfast,
yet men's souls yearn home, men and sea outlast.
Work fills mindful heads, decks swabbed and nets filled,
worn bones on slept beds, rough seas make men skilled,
rough seas make men skilled, worn bones on slept beds,
decks swabbed and nets filled, work fills mindful heads.
Shout from the crow's nest sends crew on top-deck,
those upheld the quest, mapped charts kept on trek,
mapped charts kept on trek, those upheld the quest,
sends crew on top-deck, shout from the crow's nest.
2020 June 04
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand 4 or 5 line
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 05
*1st Place*
Swap The Verse
~~Joseph May: Judged 2020 June 28
Hello, my name is Mr. Ratman
I've been injected twice
with an experimental vaccine.
Get nasal swabbed three times a week.
I wear a rag on my face consistently.
I get temperature screened.
Get symptom interrogated daily.
I keep 6 feet away from society.
I wash my hands repeatedly
until they're the color of ripened cherries.
Now they're talking booster shots; nothing will ever be good enough.
Viruses by nature never, never walk away from a rave.
Is it really all about global health and well-being?
Or is it about population control and profit?
I just thank God that we're not rectally swabbed.
All my life I’ve had this plan, to settle in the Isle of Man
I tried to swim like all good sports, but three miles out I lost my shorts
Floating, lost among the driftwood, the sad remains of shrivelled manhood, I
Knew at once what I must do, and raised my game to sea canoe.
I stowed three paddles and climbed aboard, you could say that I was over-oared. Then casting off and Isle-ward bound, it seems I’d sat the wrong way round. In desperation, rows a fool, paddling straight for Liverpool?
Well, selling everything I’d got, I took the plunge and sailed by yacht.
I swabbed the deck with mop and sponge, it seems I didn’t need the plunge?
And thinking well there’s nothin’ doin’, plainly was a storm a brewin’
The wind lashed hard, the shore fled by , until at last ... the Isle of Skye??
Looks like things had gone to cock, just after leaving Albert Dock.
Alas, a secret flaw I’ve harboured, I cannot tell my port from starboard
So then much older and much wiser I ditched the sea and bought a glider.
Now here, I really must confess, I cannot tell my East from West. But hear it from the horse’s mouth, I’m terribly good at North and South.
Skyward now with full intent, I check the compass ... Hello Kent??
All my life I’ve had this plan, to settle in the Isle of Man
Sod that.
The medic said lie on the couch
She swabbed my cervix , I said OUCH
It's checking for cancer
So I can’t be a chancer
For cervical smears I can vouch
I lay there with my legs akimbo
Butt naked I feel like a bimbo
My hubby needn’t fear
It’s just a routine smear
Not nookie with Peter or Jimbo
I think its's a total outrage
Girls are denied smears due to age
If detected early
It could have saved Shirley
And youngsters like Amber and Paige
In England cervical smears are offered to women aged 25 to 64. Personally, I think the age should be reduced as women in their early 20's have died as they have been deemed too young for a cervical smear screening. Whilst the test is uncomfortable it only takes a few minutes to be done and it could save young lives
* Third stanza added 01/15/22 -The names Shirley fitted the rhyme scheme and I've read about Paige Hart who was diagnosed with cancer aged 24. I've been made aware of Amber's Law and fully support the change of age to 18.
https://amberslaw.org/about-us/
https://www.thesun.co.uk/fabulous/9952172/woman-cervical-cancer-25-smear-test
01/14/22
Chateau Pl
A sleep walk guided by reflections
Although somethings were real
Not the front entry way
Or the stair case
Or the garage for that matter
Scrubbed and alcohol swabbed shoes
Eating off those would've been though
Pee sitting down!
And cologne must not be detectable
From more than an arms length away!
Nobody wore it
I think
The closet could've clothed a small town
And housed an elderly couple with a Pomeranian
A parked Steinway on sleek marble
Or maybe it was a Bentley, whichever,
The keys were misplaced
Handshakes are forbidden!
You may speak, however.
A stolli over ice seemed to be the only thing
Not surreal
Unless you would fancy triple dipping
Beluga caviar with a vacuum in your hand surreal
Or, perhaps, being seduced by homemade egg noodles
Can you describe that atrocius smell?
A Land's End catalog doused in kerosene
Ties & cufflinks & Jackets on fire sale
A whiff of ozone
Darkness
A hazy stare assisted by chirping birds
and a gurgling salt water tank
In an upstairs, 2 bdr. duplex
A peon awakens a prince
On balmy beach blithe commodore
Without ship, rudder, or rowing oar
Striding gusts, waves only chore
Soothing breeze girdles the shore
Sidling along, currents to explore
Mind's tranquil base to restore
Body's chafed shaft to bore
Frothy mist o'er skin doth pour
Swabbed flesh awaiting encore
To swaddle each beckoning pore
More cooling streams do implore
To massage deep into heated core
Somnolent tune blithe rhythms store
Each floating note tingling drums score
Fluttering through ethereal seams do soar
Then descends, rasping at heart's sheltered door
I had my covid 19 test today
Twas uncomfy that’s all I will say
Swabbed my throat then my nose
Nose was clean there’s no crows*
I’m happy that it’s out the way
Need another test at the weekend
Then it’s quarantine time I must spend
Till they put me to sleep
I hope the sleep is deep
With a camera shoved up my rear end!
Crows* is a term we used for bogies when I was growing up in Derby
Got a colonoscopy next Tuesday ...so expect more poop poems!
07/02/20
Neck a smooth, cylindrical mold
As sheathe with fibers carefully rolled
Pale, satin sheen artfully scrolled
Grace on soft, silky strands doled
In light, silted hologram to behold
Calamus breathes through each fold
Herbal essence from tight pores cajoled
Swabbed cheeks cloud high cheek bone
Naturally brushed with light coppertone
Puffy mounds rise from savory scone
Cherry gum drops brim o'er mascarpone
Cherubic glow of a polished sandstone
Exuding savory Rose scent laced with pheromone
Nature's stimulants, a nurtured love to hone
Bosom, gilded vines on terraced grove
Sprouting cherries, fertile arrow of Jove
Dangling from chest sealing frothy trove
Coarse sifted mounds, plump kneaded loaves
Descending into a deep, musky cove
U-shaped funnel vents steaming stove
Releasing mellow aroma of a sweet clove
He's a disgrace to the Red Duster someone said:
don't say anything or he will slash you, he warned,
puking over you like a sea of spray upon a proud rock
or to stab you with a marlin spike as if splicing a wire
rope: doubting which he would do this was certainly true.
One in four, one in four
Casualty rate, a quarter of all
The seaman hunched over supported by sone under bone,
he was rhythmically sick, wrenching a regular as the waves,
waves, as uniform as a River Dart steamer's pistons in Devon,
as he swayed in the breeze like the British blood Red Duster.
One in four, one in four
Casualty rate, a quarter of all
Until Putin yesterday - until today no British Arctic medal
Britannia just swabbed her salty tears away with ol'
Red Duster anger now being assuaged as 'Justice'
sails into the haven of heaven with Mercantile Men
a decade or so ago yet their families' pride will remember
One in four, one in four
Casualty rate, a quarter of all
Some under the Red Duster were so foreign too
whether Chines or Muslims remember them too
if on the frostbite convoys they sailed too, then medals
for them or their families too defeating the evil of Fascism
One in four, one in four,
Casualty rsate, a quarter of all
Remember, remember this day, twenty-six of February 2013
as 'Justice' had her day in the Court of Humanity for the
One in four, one infour,
Casualty rate, a quarter of all!
I sat at the x-ray machine checking traveler’s belongings
My co-worker beside me running the Explosive Detection Trace machine
Passenger came in put his bag on the belt
I checked his bag in the chamber
Laptop! I shouted to my co-worker
She grab the bag, “Sir is this your bag?”
“Yes”, he said
She opened his bag to do a search
“May I have your credit card so I can check your laptop?” she said
“No, no no”! He said, “I won’t pay to have my laptop swabbed,
May I have my laptop back please”?
“Oh! So sorry sir, I meant your boarding pass!”
“Ha ha!” Said another co-worker, “You’re an ass”.
I had a face transplant
'cos I was off my face, as was.
I trolled the book of faces
till I found one I liked.
We did a face swap, swabbed -
me and my friend that was.
Now I am her, she is me,
selfies facing up.
We kept our friends and likes.
Sparkling black eyes aglow with love's ember
Appending lashes; swabbed cinders caressing
Sleek dark hair rippling waves of splendor
Blue, silk ribbon her coiffed crown dressing
Ashen, pale face from decorous rim recessing
Elegant, powdered neck; regal grace extended
Carefully preened bosom; each, fertile fold cresting
Slender, undulating hips; each, sensuous move portended
Gilded ring with her noble birth appended
Silver monogrammed bracelet; familial license her style to sanction
Ornamental brooch, sentimental heirloom; fealty commended
Bridled love flowing freely with matrilineal unction
Mother's vicarious virtue strained into the vial of innocence
Blighting charm causing each froward step to be made with reticence
the wharf was teeming
black and white,
the gulls were keening
in their flight
round and round
the fishing scow
the old man scowled
his heavy brow
forty years before the mast
and now today would be his last
the smell of fish,the salty air
was in his soul
and now despair
chilled his heart
like winter gales
he thought about
the moon on sails
the loved ones left upon
the shore
a hundred times or even more
he thought about his only son
who ran away when he was young
because he swore to never be
another sailor on the sea
the old man dropped the anchor then
and swabbed the decks and set his chin
he took his slicker and his hat
and walked the plank,
imagine that
but then a young voice from the past
hollered out,Ahoy,Avast!
there'll be no mutiny on my ship
I brought some ale
come have a sip
the old salt turned his weary head
oh son they told me you were dead
I'm not a ghost,it's really me,
let's get this bucket out to sea.
and 'round the world his spirit flew
and came back home to start anew.