Best Third Year Poems
It's the summer of my third year.
Dad is driving us to the seashore.
The sun follows us, a happy fellow,
beaming in the mid-morning’s azure sky.
In the back seat with my two sisters, I’m looking out the window
as I crunch on Mom’s homemade salty Chex Mix,
anticipating the warmth of salt spray
from the waves I’ll be jumping on this beautiful day -
Life is a beach not yet even in my vocabulary.
We are now at the shore, a large blanket laid out,
Mom with her bright red hair tied back with a brighter red check scarf,
and my dad, dark-haired and handsome, smiling.
So rare is this happy countenance he wears today!
For a while I sit as if entranced, watching the waves roll in.
But eventually, and predictably, my joy ebbs like the tide.
Dark clouds are gathering; gray begins to envelop the sky.
I look over to my dad; the gray has recaptured his face.
In the vanishing sunlight, familiar dark thoughts invade my mind -
Dad, can I see you be happy just once for a whole day?
Rain . . . always it rains when we go to the seashore.
I've been watching you
Since your beginning
Whispering to you
A thousand subtle ways
Throughout all your days
You picked me up as a leaf
You were only three
Clutching my stem in your tiny hand
Long time you stared at me
Gazing at my veins, amber colors
Other leaves rustled in my fall winds
My songs to you, thousands of them
You couldn't listen then
At twenty three with your friend
You laid on your backs one clear night
In a grassy field peering starry lights
My voice was that galactic silence
Too low a whisper for you to hear
Only crickets caught your ear
Now you did hear
In your thirty third year
When your first child was born
And you heard my primal cry
Shook your illusions, you asked why
Your deceptions re emerged over time
Forty years later, no longer aware
Of the cosmic cycle we all share
Still my voice too quiet, too low
My greater voice in a single clap
Disintegrates humanity into smithereens
Think tectonic plate shifts are epic?
My full voice explodes a supernova
A sound no human has ever heard
A mere hiccup for me
I speak through this fragile human
Something of a poet, his intent is fine
Make no mistake, his thoughts are mine
Oh, I have many stories and wisdoms
I could have shared, had you only cared
At your end, we will finally embrace
As your dust clears
And leaves no trace
Listen
Be aware
4/6/18
Nature Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh 5/6/21
the year of our lord
two thousand twenty third year~
oh why aren’t you here
The bright green leaves are turning,
the forests look like burning;
cold weather is returning.
The days are growing shorter,
we're in the third year quarter;
the squirrel becomes a hoarder.
The stags in woods are clashing,
after the does they're dashing,
with raised white tales they're flashing.
The black bears are fat and round;
into deep dens they are bound,
spending winter underground.
Babbling brook takes its last run,
before freezing has begun;
must wait spring to have more fun.
in grade school
he heard about it
in high school
he prepared for it
in his first year
he explored it
in his second year
he focused on it
in his third year
he felt part of it
in his fourth year
he graduated from it
Now, he has a job
because of it.
HARLEY DAVIDSON
The roar of the victorious twins that spark,
Enigma of the spotless glint in the dark,
The riders, symbolic of rare brood,
Tattooed with insignia and bandana as hood.
Third year of the twentieth century, there starts a stride,
Relentlessly over a century, stands stout in pride,
The post First War years, gave birth to the twins,
Sidecars mated, to the 18 horses’ wings.
“Milwaukee” heaven, created the stars,
In a big bang scatter, they traversed the universe,
The years of the big wars, saw seventeen-inch twins,
Immaculate with epaulettes and battle olive greens.
At the end of the war, God lent a hand,
To evolve a shiny steel armour for the generation, next clan,
The Knuckleheads, the Glides set the road on fire,
Protectors of human dignity, induce fear on felons’ desire,
The low riders of the seventies, launched with a zing,
The world of its class termed it “A mean machine”,
The XL’s the K’s, roll out with a whack,
Its looks and tyres, burnt all tracks.
Then there were the softails, those flew like a dove,
Elevated the pillion rider, for the embrace of Love,
The zing of the V2 and the double chrome exhausts,
Reflects the personality of a star, that rocks.
Out arrived the fat boy who could cruise an endless mile,
Traverse across the continent in elegant style,
The Dyna and the Low Riders with their fiery spokes,
Came in with accessories that included tattooed blokes.
The King of the road with flashers and sirens run,
Vigilant officer in uniform with a holstered gun,
The Buells, The Cyclones, The Lightning and Thunderbolts
Menacing street fighters, up on the roll.
Exotic long forked choppers, on a smooth ply,
The rattle sound merges, with a helicopter in the sky,
It is the character, that reflects, the heart alone,
The charisma, of falling in love with, ‘Harley Davidson’.
By Pradipta Roy Choudhury
From The Transient Soliloquy
published by Notionpress
https://notionpress.com/read/the-transient-soliloquy
Icicles hang like translucent,
Inverted tapers from house eaves.
Seventy-two winters are spent
but now another winter freeze
wreathes my study window with ice.
How many winters have I left?
Three, Five, perhaps if I’m blessed, thrice
as many-- I’ll not hold my breath
as though it were a death sentence;
Hell no! Life’s too short as it is
to think about morbid nonsense
(besides, all things have their finis.)
Yet I’m alive and winters here
I raise my half-brimmed coffee cup
and toast my seventy-third year!
May I see it through; bottoms up!
One Horse Town
The boardwalks full of people only two stood in the street.
The showdown of the century counting down to thirty feet.
Black Bart said this towns too small for you and I to both be in it.
Today's the day we found out which one of us will win it.
Handy Randy took a spit and looked up at the sun.
He said yep, the truth be known by the time this day is done.
A hush fell over the town folks mother's hid their children's faces.
The two men in the desert sun walked just a few more paces.
The sheriff called out that's close enough! I'm a countin down from three.
Who's the best in all the west this whole damn town will see.
When he called that magic number Barts face turned black as night.
Handy Randy drew his pencil and they both sat down to write.
Randy wrote of springtime rain and the sound of childrens laughter.
Bart penned a verse about Randy moving on to the hereafter.
Then Randy wrote another verse so quick he made it rhyme.
The sheriff said time is up Bart finished just in time.
They filed into the saloon and they ordered up a drink.
While the judges read their writings and told them what they think.
Again the crowd grew quiet as they eagerly watched the show.
Old Hank from the hardware store said he really liked Barts flow.
The blacksmith from the stable stood up and cleared his throat.
And in almost a whisper said I loved what Randy wrote.
Bill that ran the old hotel said there ain't use denying.
My wife is a Randy fan but she always ends up crying.
The barber from on down the street trembled neath Barts gaze.
He said Barts poetry's kinda dark but he likes it anyways.
Some town folks started clapping you could hear the women sigh.
For the third year in a row the judges ruled a tie.
For some folks love the softer side while there's some that like it deep.
And not all men do their dreaming at night while fast asleep.
Once again the call was made the choice was handed down.
Black Bart and Handy Randy stay in this one horse town.
Edwin C Hofert
Third year with the same resolution
I am starting a revolution
Training and healthy eating
That's the plan, might be fleeting
Watching planet health my contribution
© All Rights Reserved
They tried again for the third year in a row.
However, hopes for post-season play were a no-go.
Victory for the Cowboys turned out to be a no-show.
Chances for getting to the playoffs were slim.
The guiding light to show the way was quite dim.
Dallas met the Philadelphia Eagles on their home field.
Bitter disappointment was what the Sunday night game would yield.
The Eagles offense and defense showed power and poise.
They proved to be too much to handle for the Cowboys.
In the last game, AT&T field was no stately pleasure dome.
When the game was over, sad Cowboys fans just went home.
Good Old Government
After high school all of us graduated
And then for college we had waited
Wondering what we would major in
Or should we go back to school again.
Some had no money and were very poor
Enlisted in Army, Air Force or Marine Corps
Others did not have enough money yet
But to go they still had their mind set.
Finished first year and some flunked out
What to major in were still in doubt
By beginning of third year made up mind
Now for a four college they had to find.
What students finally started realizing
Was that Universities were specializing
In a certain area to meet their expertise
Inflation had caused prices to increase.
Goal to graduate from college could not fulfil
Joined military and ended up with GI Bill
After time is service they had now spent
Employer of last resort was good old government.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran, Poet
and a College Graduate
Born in May 1975, in a small Australian town
I would battle my way through life, like a clown
Having no idea just of who I wanted to become
All I knew was, I wanted to become a mum
Poetry begun to take a shining to me
Soon to become an author, we'd see
While the grandmother role came on quite thick
I tell you no lie, 7 babies born within 3 years is quick
Tragically, a car accident would take the joy from me
Unable to cuddle, or hold the new lives in our family
Broken all over, with no sighs for a real recovery
I begin to see hope in the third year to pass, luckily
The time spent between mending this broken back
I Studied the world wide web, and polished up my nack
Author would surprise, me from my hours online
With lyricist coming in a very close behind
As motherhood end, I find I've begun to write a story
Who knows where it will take me, this is my journey
God bless the unknown, and the future poets untold story
And all that's awaiting me at each, and every nights glory
The beginning is the best rhyming
Holding hands, never parting
Talking of the future, always smilling
Making sound of music, always humming
Those picnic park days, always vacationing
Forever and Forever, to the honeymoon
Then the second stanza, no more laughter
Time moves slowly, it staggers
There are more hiccups, the pain only leaves tatters
Goodbyes take over, what happened to lets get together?
And the hangover of the day after, only shatters
Forever and Forever, dying faster
Then comes the 3rd stanza, issues still floating
It's like the third year of marriage, voices are roaring
Questions come down like torrential rains,....falling
A state of confusion, only worsening
The future becomes a target, a lot of regretting
Forever and Forever, how do you find yourself in this setting?
Forever and Forever, no more
at Holy Child School
I learn about God
met my best friend there
learn about baseball
and the other sports
three years was there
paddled third year
fighting classmate
then public school
religion
wasn't there
God I knew
always
with me
Loved
Congratulations! You have bought a new car.
May you have many joyful and memorable rides with your family!
As regards how fortunate you are
to get such a quick loan to buy the car,
Aha, ask me!
Few years back,
in all excitement and overloaded love,
I gifted my husband, umm.... a high end german car -
You see, I have faith in all German technologies-
they are strong and reliable,
'coz one of my aunts is a German.
The first year or two is pretty blissful-
Right? as it is with all ignorant fools-
happily enjoying the rides,
coyly smiling at envious eyes,
holidaying in distant places,
and paying back the loans religiously.
The third year I kept on wondering,
Oooish!....how many more left?
The fourth year I just wanted to get it off my back!
Sorry to say, but- the itch was always glued there,
no matter how much I scratched, rubbed,
mowed the back with a roller-
Oof! -I just couldn't get off the painful itch.
The final year, when a handful loans were left,
my patience was depleted,
I begged, borrowed, emptied my piggy banks,
dug out all my hidden vaults,
squeezed out the last bit to
just pay off the tortuous loan.
Plomp! I fell on the sofa,
and heaved the biggest sigh of relief!
By that time this not so young companion
had travelled many tedious miles with me,
burrowing the largest manhole-
Aha! - even ripping through my last bank account.
The next day I peered at it with raised eyebrows,
shocked to realise that it truly looked
uncomfortably older, scarred and weatherbeaten.
Honestly speaking, I was tired of it,
found flaws in it, and who wants an old hag?
I started eyeing and drooling over other beauties-
Whew!-the youngest and latest models!!
May you have many joyful and memorable rides with your family!