Best Track Poems
cheese lies on the floor
mouse makes his way to the cheese
cat runs for the mouse
“Monopoly - Fast Track Equations”
Razor sharp cut quite clear
He says Trust
She says Fear
Broken glass and hidden things
He says Respect
She says Trust
Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust
Black Lies and Alibis
He says Truth
She says Respect
Innocence is shattered
All the children wept
Steel Cages, Monopoly and Chance Cards
He says Love
She says Lost
Flying Monkeys and Kangaroo Courts
He says Lost
You say, "Here’s the Road Map, I've got the Get Out Free Card"
You get behind the wheel
Take back your soul
Foot to the floor
Keep driving fast, not slow
Pass “GO”, Do not Look Back.
Girlfriend, little sis'ta, you are right on track.
(Lovejoy-Burton/March 2018)
1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S71_vIMQ0YY
You played your pipe for me to dance,
as puppet master, worked the strings,
but today my heart will pirouette;
I am giving back the gold nose ring.
Last night I saw just how it is
Between yourself and naive me;
you are the wolf, I am the lamb
always destroyed in repartee.
You think I cannot live alone
without your condescending reign;
you won't hear Arrivederci play,
I won't come back to Rome again.
This love train has left the station;
It is speeding down "don't look back track."
Goodbye to disappointing love;
I'm moving on to be exact.
Copyright, September 6, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
A déjà vu? What can I say?
I know the track so well.
It is so dark yet treacherous.
I am not afraid. Careful, here is a curve,
it almost turns onto itself.
An old oak tree stands there,
just off the corner. I can smell
its delicious odour or feel
its sturdy trunk, its cracked bark.
I hear the lower heavy branches
swinging slowly in the breeze.
Watch out, there's a ditch there,
dank water, that smells like drains.
And just before it a small jutting rock
that can easily help you tumble
into the murky stinking place.
Walk on, do not mind the dark
nor the screech of the nightly owl,
just mind where you step
for the ground is quite treacherous here.
It's not far now. Hear the dog
on guard, barking its warning.
Not to worry, it knows me all too well
although I cannot see it.
How can I? I'm blind.
Near my house in the back,
bit lost on a sidetrack,
along the grassy track.
Turned a bit to backtrack,
closer is the right tack,
near my house in the back.
Yet things went out of whack,
more lost was a setback,
along the grassy track.
I put on a soundtrack,
and I thought to kickback,
near my house in the back.
Thought of how'd I attack
then there was a throwback,
along the grassy track.
A song that I playback,
"Get right back" ... [Bleep] (wisecrack)
near my house in the back,
along the grassy track.
The wind rose early with the busying dawn,
And, rushing into the long avenue of beech -
Laid down years ago to accommodate labouring feet,
Began to scatter over neatly cut verge and lawns
With its own inimitable unruly gust, blow and fuss...
Within a cascading maelstrom of vivid bright yellowness.
Against strong trunks, held firm by steadfast roots,
Groans from creaking boughs as they upwardly heaved
Upon frantically thrashing branches showering
rusted, golden leaves;
Carpeting the rough stones below my trampling boots.
A mad kaleidoscope of leaping, swirling, skipping
colour
Where, as a child, I had once rediscovered...
Two green sandstone gate pillars sat well back
That ushered me under this arched, canopied track.
My life is full of ups and downs
Some much more fun than others
But I’d say the ones I like the most
Happen underneath the covers
I like looking sharp
My pants ironed with pleats
But in birthday suits I prefer to be
Entangled beneath the sheets
I get exercise in the gym
And run around the track
But the best physical activity of all
Has me lying on my back
Now you may say, I’ve a one track mind
And my libido is out of control
But I have experienced a lot in life
And what I like is what I know
A storm is brewing, slow, but strong
and those who do so many wrong
shall pay their price - and when the gong
does sound, they all shall fade.
And we shall axe, it shan't be long,
The palace's charade.*
On pompous thrones adorned with gold
they sit, so wrongly smug and bold.
They know no word for kind - So cold
and merciless their speech.
But soon their might as we foretold
cannot our purpose reach.
A storm is brewing, slow but sure -
Its last defeat shall be our cure.
Our tyrant's ways shall not recur -
our bolt will find its mark.
Their royal fate they shall incur...
we'll watch the skies turn dark.
--------------------------------------------------------
From the POV of an oppressed citizen before the French Revolution
- Title from The Tale of Two Cities.
* 'Charade' here (American) rhymes with fade.
Burns Stanza variation
My feet,
got a rhythm
A nervous beat
Oh the meet
Should I eat more meat?
Nah focus more on wheat
Better calm down and take a seat.
World coming at you like a big huge fleet
They try and feed you but you don't wanna eat
I don't like the taste of there beets
I'd rather give myself some tasty treats
Oh wall street
I ain't gonna eat
Get off my bicycle seat
Filthy ol' wall street smelling like your grandma's toilet seat
gonna throw you in some disgusting embassy suite
I used to have a fear of hurdles, but I got over it.
-Jomarc Bernardo
Asp!
I can see
I am not
going to be
on time?
That's a fact!
I am late,
and must wait,
while a gate
holds me back
from the tracks!
What a pain
is the train
dashing by!..
Rolling on at a pace
of a snail in a race
I am bracing to stifle a yawn
All that freight, makes a pass
while my eyes try to grasp
graffiti that is now flashing by..
On the side of each car
is a scar that was splashed
by a guy with a message to send..
It departs
'round the bend
So the gallery ends..
Farewell to the art
from a friend...
I am late...
but the wait
was a blast!
_______________________________________________________
She left her heart there, on the tracks,
walked away, without a backwards glance.
If love were true, then it'd come back.
She left her heart there, on the tracks.
Tied with ribbon of pale lilac,
her letter of love, left to chance.
She left her heart there, on the tracks.
Walked away, without a backwards glance.
Paula Swanson
8/8/2011
For the contest, In The Afterglow
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
Placement: 6th
Your life is a long race,
Racing over the bumps.
Traveling the unforeseen,
Don’t fear to hit the jumps.
Down the winding path,
There’s plenty of ups and downs.
Place your focus up ahead,
For the glorious end you’re bound.
Doing what you love to do,
Will eventually make history.
See you at the finish line,
As you race the track to victory.
At the Track
At the starting line
Engines revving vroom, vroom, vroom
Burning rubber - GO
Flags are waving zoom, zoom, zoom
Better stop now for new tires
Don't cry for me Australia,
Just because I've been a failure,
I'm sure there's others in the land
That have no money in their hand,
The last race should've been my saviour.
Track One, Side Two
by Odin Roark
It was time.
He knew it.
Like the cuts on so many of his albums,
As he passed through the “got your attention” of side one,
He’d often considered the “time to acknowledge some chancier-experiments” of side two.
Yeah…
Back then, even though he was only thirteen,
His father had been prophetic.
After all, how many fathers would think to give some philosophy
As a birthday gift.
But that was long ago,
And now it was time he finally rejected society’s pre-ordained lifetime marketing blitz on how to live
And allow the oft times sleeper-ideas to maybe awaken discovery.
Just like his career of producing long-playing albums
Creating the safer decisions for side one was only rewarding
When there was risk mixed in, usually on side two.
Today…
He was going to welcome the task of searching,
Go beyond the choices he had been living,
Gamble on the unexpected,
Travel down the multitier-senses
Where less familiar ideas
Might muster appreciation for more of a being’s tempo,
Rhythm,
And harmony.
When he thought about it…
How enticing that flip side of the so-called normal existence must be
Finding out what one’s unknown appreciations are all about
That discovery of a finger-snapping epiphany
Ready to produce surprises for the future.
Lest he forget
Passing time was becoming more precarious
Making life’s tomorrow a hit
Would require risk of another kind.
He recalled his father’s birthday message at thirteen,
“Embrace the unexpected,
Indulge the inordinate,
Find the willingness to try track one, side two of your days,
It’s waiting.”