Best Ta Poems
chhh-ta-cuff, chhh-ta-cuff
The train chugging back and forth
Looked out of the window.
The beautiful landscape floating by
I wish I was there in the fresh air
Aha, the train stopped at Calais station,
the engine driver has got down.
It is the time for uploading the coal
And will take more time to fire
the engine of the steam locomotive.
I saw the Towers of Canterbury.
My mind was full the Chaucerian images.
Felt peace with waters of English Channel
I heard the whistle and chhh-ta-cuff sound
I ran and running the train I got aboard.
I again I looked out of the window
And saw green meadows and willows,
the English dolls strolling by.
I put out my head out of the window
Oh, my face was dark with the soot
and my eyes aching with the grit.
I heard the sound of the engine along
Recalling the words of R.L. Stevenson
"Faster than fairies, faster than witches."
+++
January 23, 2015
Form: Free Verse
Second Place Win
The pirates were all drinking rum and were drunk
And failed to see the treacherous rocks up ahead
There was one almighty crash and the ship sunk
And they ended up in Davy Jones locker all dead.
Written 17th August 2021.
Running cracks of lead flaked paint, spiders across the front door like a grandfather's
forehead.
Its hinges squeal from years of inattention and forgotten maintenance
Floor boards moan a song of dismemberment and forgotten age
While musty gloom thickens the air – inhibiting, restricting, compressing breaths
Entrance ways lead to hallways which culminate and connect enclosed spaces,
hovering in an atmosphere of haunt and mourn
Conversations linger, echoing within walls of dine and feast
settings arranged from ritual –
two plates,
two bowls,
two cups,
two knives,
two spoons,
two forks,
two napkins,
two chairs,
with only voice and ephemeral trace.
Twisted unleveled stairs, escalate to second stories
letters to love and hate cover ancient mourning boards.
Segmented space divides the infant from maturation.
Cracked spine, chipped rails, exposing the wooden crib core
Superficial angst and rage characterizing the infant's facade,
yet delicate love exposed in clean white linens pressed and laid in perfection
sets the bedding stage for stuffed bears and embroidered blankies
Toppled bookcase defecates bound knowledge across adult wooden bed frame
disheveling sheets, rugs, and right angles,
its half fallen posture exposes entrance way to hidden passages.
Between walls, moving slow as not to catch thread to exposed nail, pipe, or wire
shoulders grazing support beams, pace entranced by flattening florescence bulbed ceilings
Each step enclosing space tighter and tighter
Climax turns to anticlimax as exit opens to
a hermetic cell of textural paint echoing skin blotched and boiled.
Surrounding walls of tattered gold, ulcer red and puss filled purple,
each based with blotched skin.?Encircles full length mirror exposing views of deceased
discomfort –
Black glass glows within frame of ornate wood
spiking and curling with baroque transcendence
Reflecting back a ghost of future deceased persona.
Height is not an issue
But today I got introduced to a nasty verbal stew
It was this one bullish kind of comment
Of odium and torment
Initially I thought, it was human nature
Coming from a relative who is short in stature
The tyrant venting with a curse
A sheer case of moral shortsightedness
‘Conquer the whole world and lose your own soul’
Egoistic pride becoming his ultimate goal
I wish He could really be a mentor
For when there is troubling waters, he steers the young to the shore
His ignorance makes me very very angry
I pray that of this treacherous plot, I am set free
If I were not 'born again' in Christ and he were a watermelon
I swear my words would have been a sharp knife and his mouth a cracked gallon
Spider-man, he definitely is not
Being a woman, I Wonder why he insists on making Fijian ‘lovo’ in a foreign pot
My family counselor said ‘it is the short man's syndrome’
********! Sheer ignorance; fact is, from childhood, he hasn't mentally grown.
~ Ndau itogalin ta Pman
~
Ndao rasai ranoni
a phnayaung ko ini
a maka tangki tangkiri
a diko mipn diri diri
a paraman ngko manari
ka oba sangka trangi
Ndao mapanga nganon
a badn maph phranon
na tamanan ta manganon
i da thaman sa ranon
a ba akn maph panganon
na bakopn panganogon...
Ndao masakit aki
A kaphki lakit ami
na pakanayau ta muri
sa tamanan nta khauri
na madidi o thetui
na Kagia akal ari ...
Ndao bakodn rnk
ka anta maka gaga nk
a torogn ta a kank
ka ibata badn ra rnk
a biyadutan ta tnk
na inipo san talubk...
Ndao ndau akongka
ka angka mamaradika
na obaka makadkha
a miyathay inayawngka
na ndaungka bulayuka
na ayak a simbayaka...
By: ditadawayen sa ranao | Khadaffy D. Mangondato
Yo check it…
Dis classy lady she been cruizin’ da lanes
Just chillin on da road tryin ta ease her pains
Yeah mmm… mmm… mmm
Yeah
Tryin ta ease her pains
When befoe da eyes such a sight came to be
Da most beauteous car in his-to-ry
Yeah dats it
In history
It sent her mind outta control creatin’ thoughts
Her fan-ta-sy
Mm… hmmm her fantasy
Check it
Dis is what she saw-
Midnight blue wit purple bling
sparkles so fine it make her sing
ah ah ah… nah… uh uh uh
She want it bad
Yeah
She want it bad
Her fan-ta-sy to be complete
Need a man to make her scream
Yeah mmm… mmm… mmm
Make her scream
He tall, and dark and oh so wild
Recitin’ da poems like in her dream
An in her hand going down da road
She hold her love
Dat sweet ice cream
Yeah mmm… mmm… mmm
Dat sweet ice cream
Ta Ta Ta Thai Thai Thai Thei Thei Thei Ya Ya Ya
©Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty, 10th November 2014
Ta Ta Ta Thai Thai Thai Thei Thei Thei Ya Ya Ya
Danced the prince of Ku and Princess Ki Ka Hu Hiya
They fell into a ditch
As black as preachy pitch
That’s the kick, brick and brick, cat and mouse, yea yea yea
T hey’d aughta not called nookie
H eaven’s blessed cookie...
E ither burd or bee, cause neither's a lookie!
B urds well der feathered, not like me?
I n da interest of clarity, I’m certainly NO bee?
R obins do have red breasts and I have two, see?
D ern, maybe dat's why dey calls dem da burds and da bees?
S o, if da ladies da burd, da guy must be da bee?
A nyway, why didn’t dey call IT da cows and da doves?
N ow, cows at least got legs and doves are for luv!
D rat, I still don’t get da bee stingy thingie, "Gov?"
T he bees has a sting YIKE and bees sure love honey.
H ell, maybe they thought a man'd sting ya for money?
E ither dat or “Hmmm,” some ladies are real punny?
B et we women smell real sweet, I guess, and da bees fly to honey?
E eeeeeekkk, I so confuddled, I feel like Mikey Rooney?
E ach dern metaphors is making me more looney tooney!
S imply forget da dern foolishness and give me a groomie!
Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay
It’s Happy Mother’s Day
Mom stays in bed all day
while we all swing and sway
We serve her brunch in bed
not much to munch, it’s Bad!
Then we break all the dishes
and feed the cat goldfishes
We go outside and play
in a big lightning storm
The baby’s electrocuted
Ha-ha, can't cry now, he’s muted
Into the basement we sneaked
to take an illegal peak
at crazy dad’s latest experiment
Mom's wedding ring's now rubber cement
Time to take Mom to dinner
We picked a real winner
Too bad the place closed last year
They served great pickles and beer
Well, that wraps up Mother’s Day…
'Til a tornado blows our house away
Mom cries uncontrollably
~ Thanks for the memories
WHEN WILL YOU DIME STORE POETS GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD
I CAN OUTWRITE MOST OF YOU WHILST ASLEEP IN MY BED
YOU WANT TO WRITE ABOUT DAISIES AND WILDFLOWERS
WHILE I WRITE ABOUT SOLDIERS DYING BY THE HOURS
WHEN WILL THE PEOPLE WHO READ ME PASS ON THE WORD
TELL THEM TO READ THE GENIUS OF A POET YOU JUST HEARD
ADVISE THEM TO SIT DOWN AND LEARN FROM A MASTER OF THE ART
BECAUSE MOST OF YOUR POEMS LACK SOUL, NEVER MIND ANY HEART
I CAN SIT DOWN AND IN TEN MINUTES SCRIBE WORDS SO WISE
WHILE YOU ALL READ ME WITH JAUNDICED EYES
YELLOW FROM THE DISEASE OF NOT REALLY GIViNG A DAMN
WHEN A HANDFULL OF POETS AS TALENTED AS ME KNOW MOST OF YOU ARE A SHAM
SO WRITE ABOUT YOUR LATEST TAKE ON BETTY CROCKER
WHILE I WRITE AND BOP TO THE GREAT JOE COCKER
IF THERE COMES A TIME WHEN YOU REALIZE THE WISDOM I DISPENSE
PERHAPS A FEW OF YOU MIGHT FALL OFF YOUR SELF-RIGTEOUS FENCE
(C) 2011....Phreepoetree ~free cee!~ (the inimitable)
You said you love me
But when I said, I love you
You told me ta.. ta..
LO LO-LI TA
GLAD TO ME-ET YA
YOU TINY YOUTHFULL THING
MY FA JITA
SPICY AND SWEET
WITH A TOUCH OF SMART
YOU LEAVE YOUR MARK
ON YOUR CANVAS
AND OUR HEART
LO LO
LO LO
YOU ARE MY
HOT TAMALE
COMBO
COMBO.
R
R
NOT LO LO
NO NO
OH LOLLO
YOU SO SO
It's all imaginary
it's all real
it's all ephemeral
all eternal
every little gesture
every racing emotion
every breathless whisper
every dark and mystical room
overflowing with night air and moonlight
nothing is ever lost
truth is what is not forgotten
suffering, we learn
learning is remembering
the pain you give me
brings me back to myself
and I remember
who and what I was
before I had eyes or ears or even chloroplasts
the symbol on my hand is changing
on fire
like all of gleaming reality itself
the pearl of price which blinds the impoverished merchants
who wander naked and lost
hawking all their wares on every noisome corner
the fire is all consuming
all sanctifying
all purifying
all changing
all revealing
I am in the fire
and in the fire, all is holy
and every last thing is eternally in flames (even the merchants)
and sleep is the great activity
and death is a dear friend
who betrays with one kiss
but whose betrayal is love incarnate
I am one
with my many selves
and though I may be above you
you hear my voice
you fumble after the meaning until it finds you
I am
the light bursting out of a broken lantern
the diamond with an infinite number of perfect cuts
the voice crying milk and honey into the wilderness
the children's song that flies above the lamentation up on the desert plane
the melody that found its way into your equations
the dream that startles you wide awake
the life that pulsates in decay and corruption
the happily ever after horror story
I am
the unstoppable force
that meets the immovable object
and the result is nothing
nothing but the purest, clearest light
that has never entered the mind
take heart, my love
the raging storms of your own neurochemical electricity
will give birth to their own silence
all thought is designed to produce its own resounding negation
all speech is born to fade beautifully
all music is played until it is over
and it's closing time
and the bars empty
and the streets grow silent and still under the street lights
and the last enemy, who you fear with the Great Fear
unmasks herself, a friend and a lover
The Lover of lovers
and trembling
you fall forever into her holy and erotic embrace
Shenanigans is me game
don't ya darn well know,
I'll cover ya in green
from ya head ta ya toe.
Want me ta Irish up tha' coffee for ya?
Get ya all good and drunk,
then I could stuff ya
in me little tickle trunk.
Ya know me darn well
we've gone about this for years,
now ya know I don't like it
when ya cry those fake tears.
Ya got ta toughen up ol' girl
don't go off stompin' mad,
from where I'm standin'
ya makin' yaself look bad.
I just don't believe
you're throwing in the towel,
I love comin' 'round every year
just ta hear ya howl.
I'm just a wee leprechaun
ya can kick me in the ass,
and out the door I go
flying through the air is a real blast.
I just love teasin' ya
every year that passes by,
so toughin' up will ya?
Don't ya dare start ta cry.
So kiss me, I'm Irish
put one on me bald head,
no it's not time ta go
don't be cartin' off ta bed.
I'll give ya me po' o' gold
with me hands tied behind me back,
wha' would I be able ta do then?
It's true confidence ya do lack.
Don't give up now
this isn't the end,
this wee little leprechaun
only wants ta be ya friend.
Come on, kiss me, I'm Irish
we look good in green,
ain't I the cutest leprechaun
that you'd ever seen?
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Mar.17/2016
Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone.
I could, but it wouldn't really be the same
Boy meets girl
Salt, pepper
Green eggs, ham
All the imperfect complimentary, and no 'Ta Da'
Not a surprise
All of the time in the world to spend and no leg to stand on
Every time she says so, it's like it doesn't
Decisions
My time is valid, I am certain of it
All about it
Do I convince the finest, the weakest?
Do I convince myself?
All in a days work, and the gain of it was worth the pain of it
No pain, no strain, no gain and adequecy.
Last time makes me matter of fact, and suprisingly enough,
This is it now
-Jess