Best Thirty Poems
Inside twinkling eyes of nights bloom
Garden flowers whisper
Peeking through tree branches, heads nod
Vines twine graceful arbor crown
Rows covered with pretty petals
Faces of sunflowers
Dream of tomorrows honey bee
Sleepy yawns of sweet peas
Early morning darkness shrouds daisy
Happy go lucky petals
Spin cartwheels across the night sky
Honeysuckle smiles grace fence
Veil of mist twirling through hearth
Maiden’s shy smile sleeping
Exuberant gaze waiting brightly
Bluebell colors swirl
Dew drops dripping off Iris tongues
Moon beams warm tulips
Kiss of starlight rejoice each rose
Pepper nasturtium petal
Under Hostas' green leaf shelter
Nestles dainty slippers
Woven of heaven’s sweet scents
Garlands adorn the sky
Pirouette back down to earth
And open the garden gate
Dawn’s an hour’s chime away
In mystical days of June
BRIAN'S CHOICE X,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
2nd Place
written August 23, 2019
It's happy anniversary again
thirty one years seems not long
but so thankful for all your love
every echo within makes a great song
Thirty one and going strong
looking forward to many more
together as one sweet union
We shall see what's on store
This past years been hard
but soon be on better plain
as we look on to our Lord
His plans are never in vain
Thanks for our yesterday's
our tomorrow's are in His love
together many more to celebrate
my love constantly on your nameplate
( Today is Christine and my 31st wedding anniversary so this is written to celebrate that fact in dedicating this piece to my lovely wife for all her love and care. )
If all could be said
With one hundred thirty six words
Could my thoughts be coherent
Would words travel in herds
Would they race across pages
receiving thunderous applause
Would they cause one to ponder
or take a moment of pause
If words could take flight
Somehow written in the sky
There your eyes might marvel
thoughts traveling high
Witness the majesty
of words raining down
Stories of paupers
or a King with a crown
So many detailed stories
One hundred thirty six words rearranged
Stories of contented people
or of others estranged.
So I ask you to write
Share your words with me
You may be the next Will Shakespeare
Asking “To be or not to be?”
Now I must finish
My words have run out
You might ask me
“What are you talking about?”
Written for John Lawless’s One Hundred Thirty Six Word Poetry Contest.
August 23 2019
IN THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES
The angels are rushing and running left to right,
they are careful as wounded-soldier eyes plead
as thirty-five minutes ago...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Earth-quaking are the sounds. On the dance floor
is a number of halcyon Romeo and Juliet swaying smooth
under an umbrella of blinking lights: red and green.
Clinks! Clinks from tossed liquor filled glasses
with loud chats and laughter crowd the air when---
tenacious shakes strike and slip their ground.
Spiky trembles trip on spines, pounds grip hearts
as the mad shaking earth beneath brawls and growls.
They wanted to jet fly but they are tight trapped
to a web of disaster. Satanic is this villain.
Outside, sleeping pipes spurt! Shocked current wires fire!
Anxious buildings cracked! Worried bridge fell apart!
Disturbed waves began their tidal rolls, higher and higher
as they land the shore. Thunder and lighting rule the skies,
sad helpless clouds cry and cry flooding everywhere...
Passed the thirty-five minutes, stinky is the breeze
ragged dirty doll-like bodies are strewn all around...
_________________________________________________
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
Contest Name Death and Dying
++Placed 3rd++
O.E. Guillermo
9:27 pm, June 28, 2015
the crow
warms on a
branch
above the
dryer vent
...tales ouside my window
01/05/14
© All Rights Reserved
Thirty-five years in a fifty year old building where I repair all.
Having that many years of changes within, each one I have saw.
I answer calls each day to fix everything, either big or very small.
Reality is and this is not vainness, they expect me never to fall.
Truth is I listen to every word that is said, though it might be tall.
Years of paying attention watching closely to every bouncing ball.
Facilities maintenance is one title that my job holds so dear.
I just call myself a maintenance man, and no job do I fear.
Victory is mine if I can repair and keep it running so clear.
Eventually though all things must be replaced some year.
Years spent in one place can take a toll on anyone’s heart and mind.
Every soul needs a change once in awhile, so peace they can find.
Another twelve years is what spirit will endure, before I unwind.
Retirement is not what I seek, for I have always worked in a grind.
Service to others is more than a job to me, my life, existence refined.
Thirty thrifty thieves furtively foraged through their filthy things finding fifty thin forks
though the thieves find of fine thin frilly forks thriftily foraged failed to thrill
Thlipping Dithicult said the first
whos swolen tongue he nursed
The second thought it a trifle tricky
this can't be read as a quicky
Contest : Big Kid Tongue Twister Challenge
Kissable lips and
Blue eyes keep me busy with
The leg in a cast
The old man sat quietly. He was pensively weighing his actions and the balance of right and wrong in his life. Finally realizing there were better things to do he simply told God he was willing for Him to take care of consequence in due time. It was June, though it seemed unduly cold for the time of year. His old chair squeaked as he strained a couple of rocks, to and fro, and he thought, “My gosh the critters are noisy tonight.” Not that he thought the squeak was from the bugs, because he knew better. It was simply a noisy evening. He smiled as he thought about how much pleasure he had given old man Taylor because he and his buddy Jason had stole two watermelons from old man Taylor’s small garden. Old man Taylor must have told that tale half a million times or more to anyone he was around more than fifteen minutes. Funny thing though, he could remember when it only took about 30 seconds to tell, but now was like ten minutes.
‘Where's my sweater” he thought as the night chill sent a shiver across those boney old shoulders. A toothless grin showed he didn’t like wearing those store bought pearlies when he was alone. “ Dad gum!! What was I just thinking about. Oh! my sweater!” He wouldn’t have remembered but he was still cold. That seemed to be the biggest waste of growing old. He had to relive every thought three or four times before he could let it go. He just seemed to think he would never bring it back again. Truth is he was right. He laid his head down on his pillow shortly thereafter. He took a last drag off a worn out cigarette and ground it out in the ashtray beside the bed. “Only time he smoked,” he told the Doc, and it was the truth. Oh, eons back he had the habit bad, but good sense took hold of the better half of him and prevailed in the fight to give them up. And it was a fight after smoking some thirty odd years. It was the only good thing what came out of his daddy’s death some forty years earlier. That was the last thought he ever had as his head snuggled down into the clean pillowcase, a smile upon his lips.
evening mist curls
slowly up the rugged path
pondering life journey
"Thirty Rhymes, Triple Time"
by: Eric L. Boddie
I'm here for so much more than just lore
From the core, what we adore defines our chore
So I implore individuals to soar beyond open doors
Bypass the store, also the shore, even the gore
Pimps have whores, lions have roars, skin has pores
Rich equals poor, two squared, four, cuts leave sores
The groundhog bores, the shooter scores, the pitcher pours
Houses have floors, the seeker explores, prior comes before
Hunters seek moor, comedians use dor, fool equals boor
Boats use oars, evil, neither nor, God....no war
1. Not thrown out of the show business
every year’s good and never less
my age placed in his mind’s steerage
I’m down to prove he won’t manage
it is no different loving him
I'm older but with the same vim.
Chorus
A freebooter visits his youth
but my hands put him under soothes
I am grown, a feminine roué
not in charge he’s quite the Princeling
first time to be out of his niche
same game but in a bigger pitch.
2. I am an atmosphere of ease
together can lay and eat cheese
we are a perfect assortment
I’m his entire allotment
my wear can’t be an allergy
the mind still has same energy
naughtiness I can also brew
staying so drunk under fun’s screw.
Chorus
A freebooter visits his youth
but my hands put him under soothes
I am grown, a feminine roué
not in charge he’s quite the Princeling
first time to be out of his niche
same game but in a bigger pitch.
3. None stays acidly expectant
my years of play, a lubricant
I swim in it with him, my drake
denied has been conflicts’ outbreak
romance rhythmed by a septet
but just two are the Architect
both young, both old, difference’s weaver
like my far age, ‘best’ feels deeper.
Chorus
A freebooter visits his youth
but my hands put him under soothes
I am grown, a feminine roué
not in charge he’s quite the Princeling
first time to be out of his niche
same game but in a bigger pitch.
4. Scared of the city’s outcry
Now upgraded after our try
my kisses and massage, his lunch
signals of softness in a bunch
to his fun, never came down draught
in his love, each other we taught
I'm a mum, lover and teacher
he's a thirty-year-younger Sir.
Chorus
A freebooter visits his youth
but my hands put him under soothes
I am grown, a feminine roué
not in charge he’s quite the Princeling
first time to be out of his niche
same game but in a bigger pitch.
Dark -thirty
I don't know what time it is.
I know work ended,
at least the place I get paid,
to do the things they need done.
The rest I do on my time,
unpaid, well, not in dollars
and cents.
I stopped at the market,
to get things for dinner.
I stretched the budget...
until it screamed,
for mercy.
But I showed it,
none!
Then I went by the bank,
and tried to negotiate a pass,
on a mistake,
that I did not intend to make,
but they don't do that anymore,
there is no reason to have,
customer service,
or loyalty... kindness services.
So I paid, and tried hard,
to remember not to do that again.
I drove home,
made dinner, did the dishes,
finished three loads,
put them away.
Somewhere in the middle,
we sang...
a spider song,
read a small book,
and prayed...
that was the high-light
of my day.
What kind of fancy quilt
Are you stitching up today?
Are you sewing a quilt
In the Proverbs Thirty-one way?
With each quarter embroidered
By busy hands of love
Living to please your Saviour
Who is watching from above.
In one block of your quilt
Do you submit to your spouse?
And creatively in another
Are you cleaning up the house?
What about the children
Are they stitched within a square?
Do you stay home within your place
And give them all your care?
What about the family money
Are you thrifty with your dimes?
Have you designated a quilt piece
On how you spend your time?
A devotional time with God
Should be the center of your quilt.
For everyone of your squares
On Jesus Christ should be built.
Your virtuous woman tapestry
Should have a ruffle on display
Of all the many blessings
God dotes on you each day.
Thirty Five
At thirty five I am starting hear,
That old age will soon be here.
The wolf whistles,stares and male conversation,
Are now friendly comments and admiration.
"Don't you look good for someone your age!"
This compliment is all the rage.
Comments of beauty,intelligence and fine figure,
Have been replaced with "How's the kids?" and "Lovely weather."
In younger years,when all dressed up looking smart,
My husband would drool and nice compliments would start.
How proud he was to show me off to his mates,
But now no comment except "Hurry up we will be late."
The mirror shows signs of the years going by,
The wrinkles,blemishes and crows feet don't lie.
At thirty seven,my husband is now going bald,
"Distuinguished looking,"he says it is called.
In the companyy of attractive women my husband will flirt,
If only he knew how much it does hurt.
No more does he buy me presents or take me out on a date,
Instead on a Friday its down to the pub with his mates.
If I feel like this now at the age of thirty five,
What hope is there left,how will i survive.
As a mother,a Registered Nurse and a wife,
This combination has me speeding through life.
So how do I slow down the course of time?
Or learn to age gracefully,one day at a time.
The meaning of life is a question we all ask,
And everyone's here to complete some sort of task.
As depressed as I feel about growing old,
Stay healthy and active is the advice I've been told.
Take each day as it comes and try your best,
Advancing through life is the ultimate test.
A lesson to be learnt that is comparitively small,
Is if you can't say anything nice,say nothing at all.
Despite all the negative comments about appearance and age,
Each day is another chapter so just turn the page.
One day a handsome prince will come and take me away,
So I will sit here drinking coffee and begin to pray.
One hopes he will come and rescue me sometime soon,
Before the wrinkles set in and i resemble a prune!
.
This plaster cast is
By far the hardest thing you'll
Ever have to wear