Best Tc Poems
As the time passes by season to season. I wait and wonder if this flower will ever grow. Planted so
many times what seemed to be the right place , but once again it was not right at all. Struggling to
blossom so it can show its color and beauty to the one that matters most of all. Thirsting for the warmth
of the sun , starving for the attention , not really asking for much at all. So many times it felt so right ,
but things would change so quickly in the middle of the night and all would be lost. Slowly it would wither
till there was no hope of blossoming one day. As the time passes by tears fill my eyes and there is nothing
left to say. I only know that this flower will grow , but not this way. It must be cared for and understood ,
loved and nourished so it will blossom and grow stronger , more beautiful then any flower you've ever known.
Will this flower ever grow? This is something I do not know. Sad as it may seem, it's even sadder to me , That I
am that flower that will never grow , didn't you know ?
TC
Categories:
tc, dedication, faith, life, metaphor,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
My Auntie Mary Rose
Years ago in my youthful years; my mother told me she named me after
My Auntie Mary-Rose. Oh how I loved her so dearly.
But throughout my young life I was consistently teased from kids my own age.
And even from some of my own close kin. After I turned twenty-one I soon
legally changed my name to Theresa Marie Christine. At the time I thought that no
one would ever make fun of me again. But alas, all of some many uneducated cruel
people never learn. While I was bartending, they’d call “hey TC bring me some of your
empty tea so we can see the inside of your shirt. Guess I should not have let anyone get
the better of me. I never knew that I was feeling so insecure. If it were not for one very
close sister of mine: don’t think I would have even made it to the age of 35. Now I’m
longing for my old name back.
For I really did love my Auntie Mary-Rose. My beloved Auntie Mary-Rose I apologize
for changing my name to Theresa Marie Christine.
Written: 6/20/15
Theresa Marie
Categories:
tc, dedication, tribute,
Form:
Narrative
Do your ears hear-
tiny movements very near?
Do your eyes see-
every millisecond, a different me?
Do your senses acknowledge-
the spasmodic shifts of energy?
Wavelengths and balance-
universal constant change,
can it be?
Illusions engulfing empty space,
as if everything has only one designated place.
~~
Allusions alluding a mass confusion,
as if insanity has no restitution.
No substitution for the damage these waves cause;
just for a second-
i wish i could pause.
instead i applaud the controller of waves,
controlling this place-
an endless madness beyond time and space.
- CS | -TC
Categories:
tc, allusion, growing up, journey,
Form:
Rhyme
I read a poem once to my class
And it was one I’d written.
I’d hoped my students by the writing bug
Would thus be bitten.
A sixth-grade pupil came to me
And asked me, most sincerely,
Which book I’d copied from;
I thought I hadn’t heard him clearly.
“I wrote the poem,” I did reply.
“The words came from my brain.”
It was a fact that he just couldn’t
Really entertain.
He thought a writer had to be
Like some exotic creature,
Most certainly no one he’d know
And surely not his teacher!
Last night I heard a famous writer*
Read from his new book.
I listened, rapt, and just a page
Or two was all it took
To bring me back to teaching days,
But how the table’s turned!
I wondered how that writer knew
The things that he had learned.
I thought of what I’d told that kid
And now, to some extent,
I understand, some years too late,
Exactly what he meant.
*T.C. Boyle
Categories:
tc, on writing and words,
Form:
Rhyme
Do not go back he said and for what.
To a childhood time many moons ago in Ireland
In a field of cocks of hay and a very hot summer day
Being stung by two bees on the palm of my hand as I pressed against that hay
I would love to run again crying to the house
And that granny would be there with the witch hazel and a loving embrace
To a time when my Aunt Nancy who cried when I would be leave for England
Always producing clothes pegs of wood she had painted for me each visit
To her house and the Ava Maria played from the ornamental statue of the Virgin Mary
And her neighbours who were two young daughters
Who fought with each other over a bucket to take me to the well
Phil and T.C. I seem to recall were their names
And their mother known as baby Brehoney made the best potato cakes ever
I remember the pipe smoke and old granduncle Mark
In their corrugated tin roofed three room house
The black kettle and crook and the permeating turf smoke
To wife Baa as she was known and her 'Not a bad word' would she say about anyone
As children thay always called us Agra.
Chocolate bars for us children that were fry's mint and whiskey for Dad
To well I remember the two lonely first cousins of my father's who were bachelors
And their stiff plastic table cloth that would rise above our heads in each corner
when pushed from below the table
The dinner table itself was pushed against the stair case
Where the tea the sugar the salt and pepper were left on each yellow ascending step
And the spit laden flagstone floor more concentrated around the ray burn
But that ceased when visitors came calling
Too fondly I remember the long mountain top drive from
Arigna to Corn and our destination beside Dad's old collapsed homestead
Along the way the augments with Mom as to who lived in each house
Who married whom, how many children they had and what jobs did they do
The remote church where we stopped to view the best view for 50 miles round
And to pray at our Ladys grotto. And an occasion when there were so many inscets
inside the car that they consumed half the interior volume of the car.
Categories:
tc, family, funeral,
Form:
Four and five decades ago a washerman
lived in my village named Fanne
handsome, amazing and funny.
Month of Falgun, month of joy
got more fun when Fanne put on
fancy costume to make life on.
Who can dare to say illiterate
When my hero walked straight
customer robes add his grace.
New passenger train always attract
The poor who never took a seat in bus
My ticketless hero started trip to go on.
What a trick! he used to get birth
English paper under black goggles
The poor left seat to his Honours.
Making curls of smoke proudly
Poor fellow passengers were
trying to give comfort hurriedly.
Pleasant journey came to an end
When he reached at platform
without ticket turned puzzled form.
Everyone was in line with ticket
to exit the platform But regret
Only my Fanne without ticket.
Standing T.C. seemed devil
Golden gate of heaven to
stop ticketless devil go into.
Almost all lights of life
were ready to turn off
But old ticket came as hope.
Fanne took it up as a chance
Hurriedly measured washroom distance
Where it got bath in man's pee.
Pinned it in long stick of broom
showering drops very funny,
So he held high it away from body.
Where is the ticket? asked T.C.
But brave looked him without words
like charming gentleman of world.
What the hell ! what the hell!
sounded hard again and again
like the horn of the train.
Accidently it dropped in my pee
As a gentleman I can't touch it
But you can enquire if you pleased.
(Imagine you r ticket checker in train
And decide he may go or stay at platform , if you read it than
Reply is must.)
Categories:
tc, funny, journey, joy, wisdom,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
"The Cage" by T.C. Fulton
How do you keep me here..doesn't make sense..
I sit and I stare..like a crow on a fence
There's nothing with substance and everything moves..
Nothing to gain..nothing to lose..
In this cage..
I saw a rainbow..stolen today..
Creepy freaks..took it away..
I saw a baby torn to shreds..
While the rest of the world slept in their beds..
I saw the people faking a smile..
Entertaining themselves..as they all looked away..
I saw it all..from the back of my head..
I slowly sat..still..
In my cage..feeling dead..
I saw a forest ..filled with new life..
Slashed and then burned..then forgotten ..each night..
I saw a Nuclear power plant spill..
Killing the fish and creatures and whales..
Still..in my cage..
I watched as the people..tried not to smile..
They drank and they danced..for awhile..
I saw the children..die in the cars...
Waiting for mommies and daddies for hours..
I saw the world..growing darker in shades..
Everyone wanting to see in grey's ..
Still..in my cage..
Looking away..looking inside..
Blinded by jealousy, hate, and pride..
Where are the innocent pure and the true..
I in my cage..am looking for you...
No one..to save..do I see in the land..
Only the wicked..stand..
The sand in the hourglass falls by the second..
Judgement will come..when the moment is right..
Then darkness will take the light..
No one here will ever be free..
They will all be trapped..just like me..
In my cage.
Categories:
tc, anger, jealousy, religion,
Form:
I like the sound these funny shoes
make slapping on the wood,
I’m no league-bowler, that’s for sure,
but most folks say I’m good.
My buds and I meet here sometimes
to bowl a couple frames,
which mostly means beer and nachos,
a break to keep us sane.
The kids are off at the arcade,
and yes, they still have one,
playing games that I have to say
were old when I was young.
Bob is probably the best of us,
rolled a 280 once,
while Edgar truly stinks at it,
but plays just for the fun.
The balls always give me trouble,
holes too big or too small,
some seem like they’re drilled for children,
fingers don’t fit at all!
When we star we’re still competent,
bring in the strikes and spaces,
but the beer brings some gutter-balls,
at least they’re done with flair.
Thank God our wives can drive us home,
they’re up in the case,
gossiping about this and that
in their usual way.
May not be the crazy night life
they promote on TC,
but there’s good reason we have so
many bowling alleys.
Categories:
tc, appreciation, friend, fun, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
We had a few puffs
and had a few scuffs
drank wine and some beer
listened to the old songs
sittin' in the new Fongs
on across the road from the TC Square
I had an old truck all patched up with luck
destination Bay de Verde
logged off for the night
breakfast at first light
listening to songs of birds
Before hittin' the road I checked the load
the shrimp are like cold hard cash
when we left the old town
I had to gear her down
because the Jake brake was taped to the dash
into the morning sun we had become
Snow Crab headed for stores
you know who we are
me and my Western Star
gearing up for our long journey home
Sea food!
food from the sea
truckin' along !
you won't catch me
I'm haulin' shrimp
we are carrying ice
watch out for the water
cause it don't smell nice!
Categories:
tc, fish, food, travel, work,
Form:
Rhyme
or many years my life has been sad,
The woman meant for me I did not have .
Patiently I've been waiting for that wonderful day,
When the woman of my dreams finally comes my way.
The blue that I have felt will now be in the sky,
The light in my life I've missed now shines in my eyes.
How my days will be filled with happiness and joy,
Like the excitement of a candy shop to a small boy.
All my dreams and hopes will become a reality ,
When the love of my life finally comes to me.
The future we will share will shine so bright ,
Because the bond we have between us will always feel right .
TC
Categories:
tc, faith, hope, imagination, lonely,
Form:
Free verse
SPUR
Fed up when I get up already rested up
I am sped up tear this tread up to shred up
I’m choking you still smoking
cigarettes, And vaping you joking
Laughing at me as I am being all I can be
Was not in the Army just getting warmed
Up systematically
Forget about physical appearances
‘tis a Lifestyle adherences
grab my vitamins on Clearances
training insurance it is
Release me from the cage
only a number Is my age
shoot this rhyme like a 12 gage
Flip the page
are you engaged?
I left T.C. to be all I can be
in the U.S.M.C.
The infantry
they taught me
how to train
How to shoot embrace the pain
Endure Hardship resilience in the brain for gain
With deep desire I am for hire
to light The flame under your seat on fire
Hear is what you need to do
your way is Not working and its through
No more staying up to late
or binge drinking
For crying sake and give thought to caloric intake
You are older now more mature
Past your forties now that’s for sure
Like it or not physical training is the cure
How can you make it to your eighties?
If you’re currently frail, weak and lazy?
Daily activity adaptive creativity
Infuse positivity no more negativity
Little by little resolve as you whittle
That frame to strength gyrate from brittle and
You will delay entering the hospital.
Discharge this instruction you begin the construction
Fortify strength through production
End of discussion
By: beardedjarhead
Categories:
tc, body, character, courage, devotion,
Form:
Rhyme
An early morning appetiser to help breakfast go down better. TC
This just to whet your appetite
As A Fly Does
What would it be like to be a Fly?
Buzzing around wondering why
Flitting from lampshade to curtain and back,
Dodging the cobwebs and flyswats that crack
Landing on baldheads about to sleep,
Tickling their forearms and couping a “bleep”
How silly a fly simply has to be,
Annoying people just like a flea
Stirring them up to a frightful degree,
Until one can’t stand it and flattens at least three
Who can blame them it can’t be much fun,
The higher they fly the nearer the sun
Regurgitating on ordure and eating it up
Then walking awhile on the lip of your cup
Flies can madden a man to the enth degree,
Making one itch to kill far more than three
But it is only a little insect with a penchant to infect
Doing things peculiar to a lonely insect
Just like we do and the folks they inspect
They proliferate and swiftly inject
A modicum of frustration is generated as I do no doubt
When I’ve gotten under one’s skin and made her pout
Intelligence is remarkable, is it in a fly?
Smarter ones appear to be there as they go on bye
Some certainly keep away, others are a pest
I reckon the further ones are those that know best
If you were a fly would you try to die?
Who would want to linger around a fresh turd pie
Don’t be absurd I hear you ply
You were always ready to give anything a try
This poem by TC is not only great. It is delirious.
When I said that Terry said Horn, are you serious.
Ho Ho
Categories:
tc, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
All these racists with their lies,
filling the airwaves with propaganda and strife,
Stalins with soundbytes, Magellan their drivebys
the pasts dead end street -topically jacknifed
like it was the only course for a heading, point A to point B.
We pedestrians to lame a detour again, hobbled by peasantry.
But yevolt! Herr Commandant! the halt needs to screech,
only, the rich like you aint in the inner city!
we aint all nazis,
rich republicans or democrats of opportunity
those tobacco cotton czar b*tc**s aint got nothing to do with me
But for you angry youngbloods I see that your blinkers is on
,
flashing inequality, white privilege, and the radios singing that song-
"and the beat goes on and on and on", sheeples, 8 mile,
single file through Babylon.
yes we see you getting pulled over, and aint done nothin wrong
didn't join a gang or messover someone
How would you act if you were the privileged of hip hop and R&B
Say there's a lack of opportunity?
Like a cat coloring the kettle black, while the cauldron is full of Crystal bubbly.
No, you know love and understanding is a two way street
Now about Mr. Cam Newton and his claim at being a "different breed"
Sounding a bit like a young hitler, a complex of superiority
Now I know there's 31 flavors choco-malatto- San gusto consuella-injustice- demingo-......
so many ways to taste, defeat, scoop up the malaise
don't rub it in the face when you're on top of the heap,
make people suck on your chocolate dipped cone of invincibility,
pop cultured froyo with extra cream
bet it makes the taste of vanilla a fetish treat,
out of spite, cause African got some ultra fine honeys
how do you think they feel when you got a fetish for something not a bit more sweet
leaves a bad taste, in the palate of the nationality
too much high flying, smack talking,
mainlining, cult of punk personality
there aint no union in a phrase like "aint seen nothin like me"
I think you better stick with a spoon,
dig your way out of the backstabbery
a silver one for coddled athletes, who got nothin else to do
but compete for biggest cat in a cradle, big man blue
"but they never considered me"
Is there anybody else? I ask you, seriously, just you?
Categories:
tc, angel,
Form:
Rhyme
bird flew
no bird dying
bird flu
…
turkey’s dying
farmers in distress
bird flu
…
sun shining
its been such a long time
blinded
…
last summer
wildflower meadow skylarks
one day
—
TC meowing
let yourself in
me how
…
January sun
pre-empting spring again
hazel blooming
…
two-winged flies
diptera... winter gnats
hovering in the sun
…
photographic day
snapping nature at its best
winter relenting
…
NHS is sick
under dangerous pressure
release the clamp nurse
…
happy day
vicar telling jokes
Sunday fun
…
i’m feeling great
doctor... doctor i’m feeling
scalpel nurse
…
natures lens
water drops transformed
focused
Categories:
tc, fun, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Two souls slumber together
Dancing in weather
Enhanced by their treasure
Two souls light as a feather;
Together they fly
Their eyes create highs
Shimmering shimmering shimmering
light
Shimmering Shimmering
In the minds eye
A beauty so clear
A beauty so deep
The Grim Reaper can not conceive;
So they escape death
Share the same breath
And enter a plane,
With no start or no end.
Its love Its love
There's no-thing above
what they have become
forever this young;
Their eyes lock
Their lips meet
Heavens open to their heart beat
then
GOD
smiles
whole and complete
as they sit together
In
one
love
seat.
TC to CS
Categories:
tc, appreciation, art, love, magic,
Form:
Rhyme