Best Tarpaulin Poems
Hot. Hot. Hot.
It’s so hot out here,
I’m taking off all me clothes.
Gonna connect it to the tap
And got under a cold hose.
I jiggle my bits about,
Which is not a pretty sight.
But it is my own garden.
Isn’t that alright?
Out comes a mortified hubby,
Letting out an almighty groan.
“Can’t you see the neighbours watching?
Now they are on the phone.”
He rushes in to get a towel,
The biggest he can find.
He comes out with a tarpaulin
Now that’s a bit unkind.
Then we hear the sirens
Progressing up the hill.
Outside they park their paddy wagon,
This seems like overkill.
“ Come along madam
Kindly move aside.
It’s so hot in that wagon
We all very nearly died.”
One by one they came,
Grabbing at me hose.
After taking off their uniforms
And folding up their clothes.
Then fighting for the spray
It turned into a brawl,
Not sure if this is normal
For I’ve never seen a policeman’s ball!!!
????? ????? ????? ?????
Children with candy floss and wands of bright plastic,
Anticipation of the big top fantastic -
“Affordable family fun!”
The circus has come to town.
A carnival and a frisson of people,
The smell of the diesel,
It's magical and visceral –
Intense.
There's a girl in hoop earrings
Stands ready and steady and poised at the entrance,
Beckons our queue, guides us on through.
Later in sky blue and diamonds,
She’ll balance the line
Of the high tight rope walk.
To the right, a big burly man,
A wandering vendor of neon lit sabres -
“As you've never seen him before!”
Will throw a precision of knives at his wife.
Twenty years she has whirled in her satin and modesty chiffon,
On her own wheel of fortune.
To the left, there's a girl in an ordinary sweatshirt,
Wide spangled hairband, at a stand where pink sugar is spun.
Soon, she'll be spectacular!
Twirling on ribbons and ropes.
Belief suspended on the thrill of her peril,
Her grace.
We’ll be spellbound.
Sounds surround us as we take our seats ringside,
The beautiful boy selling programmes
Will descend,
Perform a daredevil act.
Our necks strained as we look
To the infinite blue of a tarpaulin sky -
Trapeze artist high -
He'll fly and he'll never grow older.
Dream big.
And then come the men,
Louder and bolder,
Selling bottomless buckets of popcorn and pop,
Sweet, salted and fizzy,
Between sets, they'll be busy.
A cascade of jugglers and clowns.
The big gestures of jesters and tumbling chaos -
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!”
And too soon the showtime is over,
We spill back out into the park,
Blinking into the afternoon,
Rare and recount the fleeting visions of awe and wonder.
Tomorrow the circus will have packed up and gone.
Leaving behind just a fairy circle of flattened grass
And the ghosts of muddy tyre tracks.
A crepuscular theatrical serene speech prompt,
slip spill in an echoey pattern down my soft skinned ear,
as I was captivated by the gloss quilt luminance of,
glow worm stars, silver moon tarpaulin, indigo horizon,
elysian sidereal dust that so magnetic trance,
I dwell on flawless antique navy blue tapestry,
of enthralling nocturnal mirth streamed murmur,
timelessness a slow tick second hand mesmerizer,
symbiotic solitude on moulded granite bench,
whets intense yearning as my elevated odyssey,
where gilded gust a universal sage’s hint from,
invisible zone whose through the age enchantment,
forevermore a velvet hush, a lush chrysalis,
metamorphosis at a peek, diurnal cyclic mystery,
forevermore I am an affluent lodger to telluric haven
riddle of the night
unveils its lucid passage,
beyond mortal span
Heaven within an effervescent spiral steam moiety,
juxtaposed across emblazoned morning patch
immortal,
of swooning sun whose rays bounce off garnet veins,
me, spectator, bard, curator of reflection for posterity,
this tantalised dawdler in a dewdrop leaf coppice,
majestic mountain summit under dawn spell,
arousing passionate interwoven interface of cordial,
bonhomie link to merriment, auroral pathos,
perpetual and beyond expansive firmament,
romantic fingertip alignment in surreal fog tango,
where pounding heart oath infinite in salient scope,
blue lagoon bounty, argent cascade, rainbow chaser,
dizzy upper echelon beauteous my twinkled torrent of delirium,
forevermore, longer longing, forever as this wonder world dervish,
waltzing through eternal mists, with my zest for life,
as gold encrusted passport to a rapturous paradise
daylight points the way
to lasting beauty on earth
cherish the vista
~When retired Redneck take a vacation,
Needs not AARP’s senior discounts,
Motel tarpaulin costs are his passion,
A Redneck needs not large bank cash amounts.
~Give him some worms that squirm and North Fork Creek,
With wilderness trees, he’s very well pleased,
I’m Redneck quite sleek , have my own technique,
Head where wildlife frees, in mountain air breeze.
~My food still on hoof, venison is great,
There’s fish a plenty, may ride my Jenny,
Don’t need a debate, I’ll call my love Kate,
She’ll rough it with me, loves to fish you-see,
~Get Jenny some grain, I’ll clip her long mane,
City dudes are vain, drives Rednecks insane!
For and in Honor of: Carol Brown
And Contest: It’s Time For Vacation
Puppeteers
In cavalcades of bulletproof cocoons
all aspects of our lives they can control
they own all that you have except your soul
the sharply suited pipers call the tunes.
Exchanging every privilege and boon,
in freedom's name to dominate, their goal,
unleash fierce ordinance to take it's toll
fruits of their machinations now lie strewn.
Far off, survivors of their bombs and guns
crouch , huddled in a maze of shattered walls,
tarpaulin shades family from the sun,
parents can't quiet hungry baby's call.
A world away, when all is said and done
the price of one gold watch could feed them all.
27th October 2015
Basic Italian ( I think)-
octave, abba abba
sestet- cdcdcd
What Could Makes Me Happy
I have tarpaulin over my shame,
And instead of photographing un-wiped yarns
I will continue to climb the ladder of laughter
In case the eczema of fame spread abroad.
What Could Make Me Happy
If feverish joy could always splutter and flourish,
As often as eruption in one's crotch
Wet naughty naked tongue under the ruby flesh,
Then cemetery should be the death of belly dancing,
What Could Make Me Happy
A sex deranged Cliffordian orgy?
Trapped a pussy into his sacred slaughter slab
Dose her and embarrassed her hourly until lunar,
Dropping cold icicle of blooded lips
The severed corpse puke and raised the peace flag,
What Could Make Me Happy
In the cathedral of want,
With hiccoughing economy; dry hacking until comatose
The years of locusts go on like a long pronunciation,
Everyone is weighed down by portmanteau of problems,
And essential needs trickles in form of an anecdote.
Thoughts of the past beneath trees shade deep sighs
as leaves rain above relax ambience.
A mountain gravel path laced in pigments
freckle crimson, copper, and honey gold
striking crisp blithe as soft waves of fluttering
pinnate leaves still battle for existence
on living limbs, an autumn tarpaulin.
The rise of dust beneath the evergreen,
the rushing timbre cool river against
gravel and rocks banks deep flowing downhill.
A moment adorned in an heirloom time
a bouquet of many autumns that chime;
joy of many early dawns.
Mother deer with newborn fawns
arousing out epic world in springtime.
10/15/2021
Third stanza a serious Limerick
Let's Mix It Up Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I am not lonely I have me the sad sack of stories
as they keep visiting tell me more as for five days you didn't speak to a soul
I am not old just different and a very practical brain up there to tell you all leave me alone as the world need more of me and less of you
you come for advises and tell you walk the dog and when you come back a surprise for you as never in need to leave the sofa the train comes to me
they all younger listening to a life of amazing the survival of five feet four and hundred pounds of not scare what tomorrow brings me
always a smile It's hard not to laugh the giggle with myself
as sexy two I pluck my chin for the cat and the dog to love me
the owner of a building where no one dared to move with a white face as few years ago I was sleeping on a bench with tarpaulin to keep the snow away never asking
for a dole of needles and told the pimp you wear the skirt as me want respect and I got it from the ladies of the night as they call me brave to face a gun from the little dude as nothing to lose those women are mine and not yours and I ask nothing from them but a check the test of aid. most of them tested positive and took their hand to bring them to achieve a life in a bed and not the street. scar face, smiley, brunilda and ice they all had names in thirteen street.
Seed - scattered strewn or downtrodden.
Grain stuck on passive flytrap mucus.
Wild life biomes ripe with open sesame.
Frantic birth pangs stiffen their gestations as green leaf ferments bubble underneath.
Mother of all wombs, diva pulse or fertile runner bean.
Maternal youth.
Eternal youth.
Bamboo shoots that wave their infant tassels
in a windmill vane.
Future plant life leveler a wobbly wellie earth crunch.
Squelching noises tower over brown air pigment mulch.
Sweet pea treasure’s
plot or topsoil script, ploughman’s pen an agri-birthmark issue.
Acorns cling to feather beak and claw with migrant species casually dispersing airborne clan.
Pity the poor bacteria as they bear their own strain.
Mediators in regrowth,
life cycle go betweens who skirt around infinity.
Pregnant life force signage points at blossom, branch and blade.
Father sky, whose azure blue tarpaulin watches blithely as we earthlings bloom like algae.
Captain chlorophyll, the sunshine nabbing pirate rules the waves.
Sugar dazzle booty on display for fortune hunters everywhere.
Placenta of the rural outcrop overstretched.
Nourishing, replenishing yet prematurely procreates its progeny.
Compost layer genus code emulsions where thorny splatters worm themselves inside.
Gene pool mirror drapes its vibrant colour wash on foetal lime bow and arrow twigs.
A prism to some rainbow tint or shaft.
Muddy waters percolating sluggishly through all those clay born matrices below.
Our natural breeds now wet nurse turf ground offspring.
Nutrients absorbed by network carriers- sprout and stem WIFI eco-mates.
Elevator of the undergrowth in embryo.
Going up going down.
Timeless womb your time will always come.
Posted 13 th August 2021
Monsoon Melody
Winged postal horses of poetic turf
Seemingly preoccupied in scratching an itch
Inflicted upon by our toxic refuge,
It would be a bit too much
Expecting black clouds to fetch
Vivid glimpse of not so far past
Silently fading in your heart!
Precious drops of necessity
Gifted in abundance
Does merit wholeheartedly welcome-
Like peacocks gyrate with a rainbow-arch
Behind their back,
Like forlorn ‘Papeeha’* shrills
Twinge of her lonely heart out
Not so many did they live, alas,
To be sighted!
While rain trickles down the glass panes
In showery dawn
In the cozy balcony
You could ensconce yourself
Soaking your stoic solitude
With solaced far childhood memory
But for the changed climate
Incessant rain for more than a fortnight
Renders you a convicted prisoner!
Dislocated by flush flood
Those encroached upon rivulets
And drainage of rainwater
Though adequately compensated out of taxes
Can be anything but happy
In tarpaulin huts
By the side of highways!
But, that beauty of rain
Plays melodious notes of monsoon
In the hearts of relief fraternity
Over the marooned citizenry
Cannot be altogether denied, no!
• * A nocturnal bird with lugubrious voice.
Five Arab Men
In the dead of night, asleep in my bed
Suddenly, upon a hill as bright as day
A vision before me, or am I misled
On this asphalt road,to the left, a tractor trailer stands
Waiting as if impatient
Cloisters, old fort on the right, playing of the bands
Down below, a city of black glass skyscrapers rise
As if by an artist hand, shooting into the sky
To stand beside this scene may not be wise
The front of the vehicle, watches over the city
And midway beside the machine, I stand
A lamb to the slaughter, do not pity
I must go, it is my destiny
Walk to cab of vehicle, five Arab sitting
As if waiting for a sign
Uneasy feeling taking hold of me
Hurry back some distance, still close
Step out , two men coming
Men look intensely in my direction
Overcome with fear, I stand my ground
Cannot see me, as a spirit in the night
Walk right through me, as if blind
Climb in vehicle, remove tarpaulin
A long-range ballistic missile, so unkind
Unhurried action, missile moves
Pointing to the sky
Must wake up, must not see what is yet to come
William Morrissey 6/5/01
MUM EXPLAINS GRASSHOPPER FOREBEARS
Your daddy? Well, he had no money ,
Was skinny and boney, but just gorgeous, Honey,
A real grasshopper’s grasshopper.
Spent his days, unafraid to come a cropper,
Hiding on a cornstalk in a field (you probably heard)
Listening out for combines or a hungry bird.
Your papa learned to hop...junior grade..right and proper
Then was quickly promoted to senior hopper,
But oh dear he went on vacation in Mexico
One of those impulse things, you know :
Free ride in a truck, camping under tarpaulin,
But ended up as a chapuline*
His brother Joe was another hunk -
Defied the catcher nets – he had *****.
Fancied him myself (before your dad),
But he was too wild, adventurous, real bad.
Most famous member of our family was Uncle Joe -
(Now under glass in the botanical museum, Ohio.)
.........................................................................
Note
Chapuline is a delicacy of grasshoppers - eaten in Mexico
COLOR
Color is an agent,
Of beauty,
We use it in beautifying,
Our body.
It’s like flowers,
It’s used in decorating our
Buildings.
It’s like perfumes,
It add value to our,
Body, and it is attract the nature,
But when mixed with water,
It becomes like,
Soured soup.
It is like a,
White shirt,
When durst touches it,
It becomes like unclean
Tarpaulin,
Some are cleanable,
While some are unclean able
Oh!
Yee poets and barristers,
Tell the E.F.C.C and
The I.C.P.C,
That is better to pit on
Colorful cloths,
Then to go necked.
Tell,
The doctors not,
To be like Michael Jackson,
Tell the angelic not to,
Be like infant birds,
Tell the church worshipers,
Like Daniel Ogberi and his,
Wife to put on their,
Red hair cover,
Tell,
Pastor Chris Oyakilome to,
Put on his colorful white suit,
And his white shoes,
For it is better to change,
Our cream,
To change our body
THEMES
1. Changes
2. Seriousness
3. Unchangeable
4. Determination
5. Repentance
Written by poetOkonkwoVirginus.
COLOR
Color is an agent,
Of beauty,
We use it in beautifying,
Our body.
It’s like flowers,
It’s used in decorating our
Buildings.
It’s like perfumes,
It add value to our,
Body, and it is attract the nature,
But when mixed with water,
It becomes like,
Soured soup.
It is like a,
White shirt,
When durst touches it,
It becomes like unclean
Tarpaulin,
Some are cleanable,
While some are unclean able
Oh!
Yee poets and barristers,
Tell the E.F.C.C and
The I.C.P.C,
That is better to pit on
Colorful cloths,
Then to go necked.
Tell,
The doctors not,
To be like Michael Jackson,
Tell the angelic not to,
Be like infant birds,
Tell the church worshipers,
Like Daniel Ogberi and his,
Wife to put on their,
Red hair cover,
Tell,
Pastor Chris Oyakilome to,
Put on his colorful white suit,
And his white shoes,
For it is better to change,
Our cream,
To change our body
THEMES
1. Changes
2. Seriousness
3. Unchangeable
4. Determination
5. Repentance
Written by poet Virginus ndubuisi.
A nine mile shift with a roadrunner penguin is not really a relaxing way to spend a Sunday afternoon. And to hop on a squire bus and sing is often best achieved by the gatherings of larks who are often attracted to dust formations and cellular spittle. Of course one must hope that assistance is to be verified by a mountain of squashed eggs and peas in a frying pan or wok. But nevertheless seemingly shy is the sadistic sawdust whose patterns create weapons on many a floor. Globally. Wow. Oh how amazing. A matador is throwing a coat around in a playground stomp centre. And the dorsal fin of a helicopter shines most brightly at a discotheque for to whirl a bright orb on a ceiling is to cast radiant beams in a dark noisy boom room. Wow the auric essence of a hand wash is arriving to cleanse a sinkhole. And a sinkhole is neither a ships stern nor a straw sieve. Save on ice cubes then you may need them to plant some lovely currant trees whose blossoms.signify and herald a returning of a raspberry coat of arms for the potato army. And the emblematic achievement of vegetation is immense, real and very impressive too. Wading through a circular formation of a ground sheet is rather formidable for a little ant whose antics amuse and surprise the tarpaulin which blows big bubbles in a tumultuous breeze. Opinions of other otters occasionally officially offer octagonal onions. And a delivery of twelve squirming octopi can occur accompanied by large amounts of door knocking. Haha a burger balancing on a bed with bleached mushrooms hahaha billiards bringing ballrooms xxxx in fluctuation z z z z z z go meet a pickle and cheese dressed in a ham slice dress. Z