Best Throws Poems
throws herself on paper
reveals heart to strangers
throws herself on paper
identity unrevealed
throws herself on paper
fearless, bold, sensual
throws herself on paper
poet persona unknown to others
unbelievable to those who know her.
State Championship on the line.
Today I have been shooting just fine.
When I got the ball I yowled.
“The defender on me has just fouled”.
Two free throws just for me.
Will I make them? We will see.
The first one bounces up and in.
Just one more and we will win.
I shoot the ball and get it done.
I can’t believe that we just won!
Dreams are the essence of life
Life is void without dreams
Whatever life throws at you
Pursue your dreams with determination
Hold onto your dreams with ruthless tenacity
Hold onto your dreams no matter the challenges
Cause the road to success is not paved with gold
It is strewn with thorns and distractions
Overcoming challenges gives dreams their meaning
Happiness is an illusion
It can only become a reality
As you put your hands on the plough
And pursue your dreams without looking back
slam it to me punk you think you’re so cool
this bald headed old fart will take you to school
you think you’re the first generation to revolt
if you read a history book you’d know that’s a joke
yes that’s a joke
go ahead punk – take a poke
hell i was sitting down in a war protest strike
while guardsmen flexed their muscles and sticks of the night
don’t talk to me about your troubled young fate
until you’ve been through a night like at Kent State
people died there
shot by the man
four college kids killed right where they stand
go ahead shout, curse and be rude
show me your underwear and your attitude
pretend you’re real mean and ain’t scared a nuthin
brag like you think you can beat out my stuffin
i’m an old fart of fifty plus years
i’ve already shed an ocean of tears
i aint got nothing much left to loose
which is what makes me much more dangerous than yous
pain ain’t nothin when you’ve had a rectal exam
you think you can scare me more than the doctor can?
think again
young man
i’ll slam your slam
this ain’t writing
it ain’t exciting
its simply yelling and telling lies of being tough
it ain’t enough
now go write some good stuff
you think this stuff makes you a hero
you think it ain’t conforming to norms?
you’re a real zero
you aint the first
heck you might be the worst
you are just replicating
duplicating
other punks beat you to it
now write a sonnet – if you can do it
you’d be the only punk out on that island
that would make you brave
make you stand out
give you some clout
if you could do it
but you can’t can you
instead you say you’re one of a kind
don’t waste my mind
you think I’m blind
i’ve seen it before
you’re just a slam whore
easy to ignore
i’ll slam your slam
now go jam my jam
My soft, pale, aching skin melts into the white african sands,
My longings for you dissipate into salty sea winds,
Carried to you somewhere in the cold mountain lands.
The heat I create beats the scortching of this sun,
I could melt all the snow on which you stand.
It may rain now for all i know,
All i sense is your weight upon me.
The smell of your sweat maybe just a memory,
But tis more real than the tide about to take me.
I hear you call my name amongst the the breaking waves,
Whisper closly your desires, tickel my ear with long deep breaths.
My hands rub nourishing cream onto my thighs, or is it you brushing by.
The blueness of the ocean compares nothing to those eyes,
The ones I stare into while you're laid with me.
My desire to touch your chest, to grab the sheets and curl my toes.
This sun does not understand the real heat that grows.
My cheeks turn red, my body quivers, gone is the beach, the seas and sand,
I'm joined with you for one lasting moment, neither here nor there,
together in throws.
I can almost guarantee that this little poem will put a smile on your face by the time
you get to the end of it:
He said he loved her and then she gained some weight
Sixty pounds worth
He said he’d love her more and she would look great
Sixty pounds less
Isn’t that the way that love always works?
You’re loving each other with all of the perks
Loving each other and you’re getting along
Life throws a curve and you’re writing a song
She told him she loved him and he grew a scraggly beard.
Six inches worth.
She said she’d love him more if he didn’t look so weird
Six inches less.
Isn’t that the way that love always works?
You’re loving each other with all of the perks
Loving each other and you’re getting along
Life throws a curve and you’re writing a song
He told her he loved her then her mom came for a stay
Three months ago
He told her he’d loved her more if her mom went away
Thirty years or so.
Isn’t that the way that love always works?
You’re loving each other with all of the perks
Loving each other and you’re getting along
Life throws a curve and you’re writing a song
She told him she loved him but then he grew pot for sale
Three acres worth
She said she’d love him more if they didn’t end up in jail.
Three years worth
Isn’t that the way that love always works?
You’re loving each other with all of the perks
Loving each the other and you’re getting along
Life throws a curve and you’re writing a song
He said he loved her then she ran over his cycle,
$3,000 worth.
He introduced her to his rich friend, Michael
$3,000,000.00 worth
Isn’t that the way that breaking up always works?
Yelling names at each other, who needs the perks?
No longer loving each other, not getting along,
Michael’s stuck with her and I’m enjoying my song
It's four a.m. you are sound asleep
when you are awakened suddenly
at first it is a small vibration, then
turns into a house shaking event
You scramble to find purchase on the floor
but you can't seem to find balance
you hear the crashing of pictures
as they fall from the wall to the tile below
As you bounce from wall to wall, frantic
you try to reach your children, who are now
Screaming for you in high pitched madness
as a crack forms in the wall, then the floor
The shaking, now so violent, the sound
so terrifyingly loud, you reach them
only to find a jammed door, you shoulder
it open, grab your children, Now,
How do we get out? wheres my wife?
you stumble down the stairs, half of which
are now broken, to find that the front door
is gone, so is the living room, decimated
Where's my wife? where's the dog?
You are now outside where you fall
the violence is all around you, devistation
beyond the imagination, though it is dark
Where's my wife? my dog? I have the kids
Suddenly the house collapses into itself
then as soon as it began, it ends
Where's my Wife? my dog.
You succumb to your fear, hold your children
so tightly, you fear they might just slip away
as the sun rises to the east, it is clouded by dust
you can now see the chaos that is ahead of you
Everything gone, the house, the car
neighbors who are alive are lost, screaming
their property gone, all of it, just like yours
Where's my Wife, Where's my dog?
Enraged winter ocean
Mighty anger displayed
Neptune has lost control
Howling winds whip up waves
Fearful for sailors' souls.
Enraged winter ocean
Turbulence ongoing
Neptune is clearly mad
Manic ocean tantrum
Watching in warm clothes clad.
Enraged winter ocean
Boat battles angry sea
Fanatical Neptune
Rout under soulless sky
Storm rages at high noon.
Enraged winter ocean
Unrelenting frenzy
Neptune's beyond the pale
Vortex of pure madness
Man is so very frail.
Mr. Pickle threw
A lavish pickle party
Inviting all his friends
Dill, sour, kosher
Spears and even halves
Seeing that the party
Was off the chain
Some uninvited guest arrived
With thirst and hunger
In their eyes,
They were humans!
Who tried to eat the pickles
But the pickles fought back
Dill rows around on the floor
Knocking them off balance
Sour dashes juices
Down their throats
Causing them to choak
Kosher scoots salted juices
Into their eyes blinding them
And spear, spears them and
Halves crashes down onto them
While down the beaten humans
Began to shake, then shrink
Turning into pickles and
The party went on!
pleasant lovingly
a menacing girlfriend calls
despite the pebbles
shining lovable
a toss, active sticks throwing
in spite of the stones
horrible break-up
now no longer together
despite the pebbles
4/28/19
Its spring time
When beauty is released
Like a hand stitched
Patchwork masterpiece
Nature shows off
Her spring time finery
Spread like a throw
Over all you see
If Pearl misbehaves
throws fits, rants and raves
What of the parents who raise her
If Johnny can’t read
or do simple math
What of his teachers who instruct him
If Darryl kills a man at age 14
After robbing him blind
What of the system which releases him too soon
Where’s there no supervision or accountability, little teaching, less review
the quality products turned out number between zero and a few
Dawn separates light from shadow:
penciling in all shades of grey.
And crimson skies are set aglow
as scarlet sunbeams color Day.
Shifting shadows
flee Night's death throws.
Sol's splendor slowly starts to show
as Ebony scuttles away.
Artists like Michelangelo
use light and shadow interplay.
Child of the Sun;
shadows are one.
Gather around, its time for another story,
It comes from my youth, back to the days of glory.
I was always asking the questions that no one seemed to understand.
It was apparent the only way to handle this was resort to the land.
At this point it was time to seek out the great oak,
Legend be told, it was only wisdom he spoke,
He was an old timer and didn't like being woke.
This being known, I poured out my emotions then told him a joke.
I began to ask the questions that were oh so big,
His first response was "take it easy now sprig,
I've done shed a few leaf and broke a couple twig."
"A brutal truth you seek, so it seems,
Greater men die for other peoples dreams."
Poetry prances into my dendrite field, taking charge,
Taking over, taking me hostage
Perhaps I want to paint today, I tell her.
She scoffs. Smacks me lightly on my brain stem.
Makes fun of me.
Calls me names.
I am not in the mood, I tell her, prissily.
Convincing no one.
Least of all me.
You do not have to write metaphors,
She tells me.
We are not good at them
Well, thank you for that, I think.
She sticks out her tongue.
I laugh
She gives me a line
I decide to dig in my heels, ignoring her
The second line entices me a bit
They rhyme
And you know how we love to rhyme
Dram it!
I hastily finish the faerie I was drawing
Cast her aside and
Pick up my notebook which had been on ready-alert,
Just in case
My muse Trixie
The one I give full credit to
Daily
Sometimes hourly
The one who throws me about
And gives me battle axes of my own
Laughs into my face
Way into my face
I mean, pushing her face into my face
Okay, Trixie. I GET IT!
She does not let go of me
Until we have written sixteen poems
This takes thirty-seven minutes
Editing?
Schemditing.
I am not that kind of writer.
And Trixie HATES editing.
We simply do not do it.
I begin to type,
Wondering if any of this
Makes enough sense even to me.
One of them stands out
Trixie has endeared herself to me once again.
And validated me. I think I may be a poet. Not secretly any more though.