Best Turned Down Poems
How mischievous those goddesses of fate
That bend our paths toward our destiny
They tempt us, setting traps, with diff'rent bait
Like fools, we complicate simplicity
Each turn we take is draped in mystery
A lucky choice builds up our confidence
Then fate reminds us, oh so subtly
Again, we're on the wrong side of the fence
The twists and turns of life offer suspense
We see our big break up around the bend
But fate knows that for love, there's no defense
Next thing you know, you've turned down a dead end
Fate has control of destiny it seems
Don't let that stop you chasing down your dreams
I, who always used to gravitate toward health and fitness,
would flatter myself that I was too healthy to ever get a bad disease.
Then it happened! A lump - most inurbane -
had decided to invade one of my breasts.
There was nothing perspicuous about that tumor.
My first whole month consisted of going from one test to another
just to determine if it was malignant.
In my new surreal world, everything seemed to alienate me from normalcy.
Surely, I thought, my body is simply being capricious.
I kept believing that the crazy tumor would be ruled benign.
Surely my worries and my biggest looming fear soon would dissipate.
Then I got the verdict – second stage cancer.
Told it was a less invasive type, I felt a little reassured.
But after surgery, another test revealed I was high risk for it returning.
My condition is far from transitory.
If it lived inside me still, it would attack with vengeance were it to grow.
I did the radiation I was told to do
but turned down the chemotherapy.
The tumor, after all, had been removed.
Through prayer, I believe God guided me
to sources that informed me of other precautions
better for me than chemotherapy.
I can make bad genetics my scapegoat,
along with the weirdness of estrogen, which drove it to my breast.
My body betrayed me, but millions are victims of this disease each year.
For now, I am surviving and doing it wonderfully.
I search for more preventative solutions
through such things as exercise and healthy eating.
Perhaps I mainly get by with support from friends and family
and most certainly, from simply LOVING life
that by God’s grace,
victorious I may remain!
Revised for Julie Rodeheaver's "I'm a Survivor" Contest
A true story, based on family oral tradition
from the oldest part of the city of Bern,
capitol of Switzerland, where my mother was
born and raised, in the Nydegghoff)
He lighted the candle with a quivering hand,
his overcoat seeming to weigh down the old man.
He paused in the aisle to genuflect,
and wondered if God knew his heart was a wreck.
He found a pew and got to his knees,
hands clasped together, he sent out his pleas.
He is old and he's tired, now he's alone,
his wife died last Spring, now his house wasn't home.
They'd been blessed with one son, he'd died in the war,
and now there was nothing for him to live for.
He prayed until his knee pain was great,
then sat back in the pew and tried not to shake.
The cathedral was beautiful; he loved the stained glass,
but, oh, they brought memories of Sundays past.
How could he make it through Christmas alone
in a house that was empty, no longer a home?
The kitchen was silent and cold as a tomb,
but her scent lingered on in their modest bedroom.
He said one last prayer, then rose to his feet,
genuflecting again, he went out on the street.
He walked home near blindly, not even aware
of the snow that was landing on his shoulders and hair.
He was cold inside, his heart like a stone,
and he felt completely and utterly alone.
He turned down his street, saw his porch light's glow,
and only then realized it had started to snow.
He opened his gate, thought of making some soup,
but froze in his tracks at the sight on the stoop.
On his porch sat a basket, the old wicker kind,
he thought for a moment, he was losing his mind.
Inside the basket that sat on his mat,
were three tiny kittens and one momma cat.
What a pitiful sight, so cold and so thin,
he scooped up the basket and hurried them in.
He found some canned tuna and warmed up some milk,
gently petting the babies, whose fur was like silk.
He never discovered who left those cats there,
but, as his love grew, he no longer cared.
His wife had loved cats and this comforted him,
as they slept on his head, or tucked under his chin.
The kittens grew quickly, as they're wont to do,
amused by their antics, his love grew and grew.
There was laughter and joy 'til the end of his days,
for God works, as you know, in mysterious ways.
in the first crevice of light
as dawn flushed its skies
her frail fingers struggled
to pluck weeds from spring buds
that laid like a colorful quilt
on her once rolling green lawn
you could hear the creaks on wood
as she rocked on the weathered porch
watching for the children to walk by
as the school days finally ended
she'd speak to anyone that listened
her story was hapless but known by all
her loneliness was seen in the depth of her hazel eyes
no one ever turned down the jaunty invite
inside her antiquated home
where her fingers danced nimbly
across the piano as she sang them songs
she hid her loneliness and darkness of life
reserved her tears behind closed blinds at night
when the blinds remained unopened the children knew
and they flooded the funeral homes to say their goodbyes
march 20, 2020
It has taken me two months to write about this
It was me, you and him
All of us in my place
I was drinking margarita, you and him were drinking vodka
Eventually you persuaded me to drink some vodka too
We were all in a merry mood, excited and heightened
You danced a lot that night, you always had your sharp zumba moves to show
At one point you wanted us to flash our boobs, for the boy
I firmly turned down the request because I knew it was wrong
Girl, you were really drunk
It started as a joke, proceeded to be an argument and eventually it was over
And the boy just sat there
I remember our first encounter, it was in a library
We loved books so much
We eventually became very close friends
We spent our spare college times together, inseparable
At one point we had one scratch in our relationship but eventually all was resolved
We were back again to our giggles and wiggles
Girl, I will always remember your camping stories
They brought a lot of happy tears to our eyes
Your many travel adventures and the pictures you send
Through you, I traveled the world
Your rock climbing tales
Your diverse taste of cuisine, like a cigar it was fancy with a flavorful star
I will always remember the parties we met, they added humor to our lives
I will always remember you, though now gone from my life, I will always thank God for the days we shared
Once upon a time there lived a dancer
Shyama, a concubine of a feudal baron
Had a pretty girl Kanha, also a dancer
Quite excelled in playing of the Veena”s tune
Was mortified being Courtesan’s daughter
Sobbing, came to her mother with a question
Calming her down she pointed to God’s statue
HE is your soul-mate will take you away astute
She took to Lord Pandurangam thus advised
As her lover, owner of body, mind and soul
As the classical musician her she was praised
People came with offers, mother turned down all.
Sultan of Vidarbh by her beauty was charmed
Sent order to send Kanha to his serial
She left town at dawn as she had intimation
Went to Pandharpur temple for inspiration.
She wrote, composed and sang as blessed poet
Data was leaked when a man saw her singing
The Sultan besieged the town and held the priest
Quite engrossed she kept on Veena –playing
Chord broke, song disrupted, the statue split
God came out, carried her, the statue joining
Merged with God, piece of scarf stuck in a gap
Kanha got herself in her eternal lover wrap.
**********
Once upon a time in the fourteen century, at Mangalwedhe ,Maharashtra State,
India, the story has taken place. A temple was built later, in Kanhapatra’s name.
The lucky visitors, who strongly believe in Lord Vithal and his miracles, can see or
assume the tiny piece of cloth, stuck (at the place near the heart) on the Lord’s statue.
Contest: Any poem # 3 6th place win
==============================================
*Name of a woman
** Kanha means a belle
*** Veena, an Indian musical instrument
****Pandurangam, a name of the Indian God
*****A feudal Lord of Ancient state Vidarbh of India
******Pandharpur name of the town where there is famous temple of the Lord
Pandurangam
===============================================
Honorable mention
Contest: The ottowa Rima by Jared Pickett
Dragon went to the mailbox this morn,
And he came excitedly flying back, yes, toward the house…
So Now, you should… be doubly, doubly, doubly forewarned.
Yep! Now, you GOTTA know… We’re in for a LOT of ensuing chaos!
Yes, He had a letter addressed to him…
With a smile on his face and a letter in his hand…
And what, you ask, had him wearing, such bubbly, bubbly, bubbly grin?
He’s going, this year, to the Fireman Competition, and held the invite so grand!
By Now, you must know, such excitement, so fine…
As usual, made his fire to run, run, run… onto the letter in hand…
And that Date, and the Time? You know, that fire? Well… never mind!
Thought this would slow Dragon? No way! He’s ready, now, for that Laurel Strand.
He flew to the Firehouse, lickety- split…
Crashing into the fire truck, giving it a broken axel and 4 tires flat, flat, flat!
Leaving his head, stuck, solidly, through the window, into the trucks cockpit…
Fortunately, out ran the fire chief, to organize the rescue, of our little dingbat…
When NOTHING ELSE would work, all the firemen…
Put their feet on the door, grabbing Dragon, and they pulled, pulled, pulled!
Finally, it took old Grandpa Troll to pull his head out, by taking the door off…
And then breaking the door apart! My! What a day, I must say, THIS had been!
Then next week’s competition was explained…
As a Charity Event to enhance and outfit their old faithful fire truck!
Now a little rescue practice will never, never, ever… it’s ascertained…
Ever be turned down! And Oh My! And Oh Well! What’s that truck worth?
That is… compared to our klutzy, little clown…
Grandpa Troll donated repairs as Dragon worked it off, day after day, after day.
My Moral is: If great you will be, then mistakes will be made along the way…
As you walk to your destiny, don’t despair; just keep going to your brighter days…
Written By Carol Eastman 5-19-2016
My heart sank, her buttery sweet voice
summoning me to the front of the class
I stood there chalk in hand, with my shoulders slumped
The question she asked, for the answer she already knew
She chose not to teach, but rather to embarrass me
I was not a welcome guest, Hallowed Halls of learning didn't seem to fit
I stared emotionless at a blackboard covered in white chalk dust
Laughter filled the room until I could shrink no further
Oh how I wished I could disappear, escape to my place of daydreams
Then the teacher called on one of her special ones
The girl with perfect clothing, a perfect smile, she was the apple of teachers eye
That favoured girl removed the chalk and burden from my hand
Red faced, I returned slowly to my place of shame
I sat there in my wooden desk, with my blue eyes turned down
Perfectly put in my place at the head of the class!
For FJ's "Jaw Dropping Contest"
In the middle of the night, you came, oh, death,
Wishing my soul to harvest
Vehemently, I refused to surrender it to you
Fact, that made you so angry.
You said your divine right was to claim it
But still, your request I turned down
It was then that you thought it reasonable to incapacitate me
For your mission sooner to carry out.
The first step you took was my voice to silence
The second was my legs to immobilize
Thus mute and paralyzed, you fancied, I couldn't resist
So your prize would quickly be obtained.
For five days, in total muteness and bedridden, I remained
Yet, a gallant fight I put up to escape your embrace
But all my efforts in vain appeared to be
As the gates of eternity, I could gaze.
Late on the fifth day, a doctor of great character and skill,
He decided to empty the Hematoma formed next to my brain
Thus, a foot-long Craniotomy performed with great care
Hoping you, oh, death, to chase away.
Although now, slowly, I am recovering
Anticipating a few more years of life to enjoy,
I know very well in my heart, oh death,
That we together would be one blessed day!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
30 November 2021
* This is a biographical poem that narrates the events that took
place between the twelfth day of October and the first day of
November in the hospital!
I can think of no better contentment that can be had,
Lounging in my robe and slippers comfortably clad,
Than relaxing by the hearth in my favorite chair,
Gazing at the dancing flames, ah, nothing can compare!
A winter storm rages outside piling up drifts of crystal snow.
I checked the thermometer and it read twenty degrees below!
But what care I as we settle in for an evening of respite,
Sipping Berringers White Zinfandel on this Holy winter's night!
We reminisce about the past and things for which we aspire,
Dreamily watching the glowing embers of the dying fire.
With music softly playing and the lights turned down low,
I light my pipe, savoring the aroma and its mellow glow!
I make room for dear old Simba as he curls up on my lap,
Purring contentedly and taking his usual evening nap.
My spouse prepares a bowl of piping hot popcorn for a treat.
I couldn't ask for anything more to make the evening complete!
In the autumn of my life, such simple times I truly treasure.
With my love by my side, I'm satisfied beyond all measure!
The grandfather clock measures time in its inexorable way.
Oh, that time would stand still that I could forever relish this day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Linda-Marie's "Holiday Hearth" Contest - November 2011
Autumn Lullaby
Peaceful moments drifting by
As slumber takes its cue
Sweet dreams come to pacify
This quiet twilight view
Restful sleep, my evening prayer
Dear child, don’t you cry
For I am here with you to share
An autumn lullaby
~
Listen to the whispers as the autumn leaves now fall
Softly as you close your weary eyes
Rest my precious child while the chilly night does call
Stardust shimmers drift on velvet skies
Soon you will be dreaming of a very special place
Fairytales within your heart to keep
Always I will be here with a comforting embrace
Sleep my precious child, go to sleep
~
Softly sung for tiny ears
As lights are turned down low
Perfectly to calm your fears
Beneath a full moon’s glow
Whispers float the evening air
My angel time to fly
For I am here with you to share
An autumn lullaby
Good night Soupers
fair day
tinkers came this morning
out of the melting sun
like a rainbow in a cloud of dust
their caravans noisily come
music swirled about them
and women's ribbons flew
in their coal black hair red roses
still wet with the morning's dew
rat tat tat on the pots and pans
rat tat tat on their women too
the village men stood stiffly 'round
their faces glum mouths turned down
when the tinkers came to town
the village men burn with lusty fire
for tinker girls are sweet
but never closer could they come
to the swiftly dancing feet
'round and 'round like Christmas tops
skirts high above their waist
willow withy women danced
while their men they robbed the place
rat tat tat on the pots and pans
rat tat tat on their women too
the village men stood stiffly 'round
their faces glum mouths turned down
when the tinkers came to town
anxious to be off again
fairy vaner ponies stamped
flowing mane and tails held high
they pranced around the camp
now at dusk and shadows creep
too the music all must yield
not a blade has been disturbed
across that empty field
Well the house was rock & rolling,
and the dance floor was pulsating,
I had myself too many drinks,
then drank two or three more.
All the ladies, they were moving,
in tight clothes so scintillating,
one looked so hot I couldn’t think
as we walked out the door…
Then I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know how I got here,
and it’s really kind of funny,
went to sleep in Santa Fe.
And I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know what I’m doing,
but the folks are nice
and there’s beer on ice,
so what the hell, I’ll stay, mate!
Where the girl went, I do not know,
nor even where we did go
when we left that raging party,
probably to an airport.
Vaguely recall lights turned down low,
did I get with her? I hope so!
Joining the mile high club is
a real fine way to score…
Then I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know how I got here,
and it’s really kind of funny,
I blacked out in Sante Fe.
And I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know what to do next,
but the weather’s nice,
and they do shrimp right,
so what the hell, I’ll stay, hey!
The ladies here are so sweet,
and the men all like grilling beef,
the animals want to kill me,
guess you can’t have everything.
Do you know they have ski hills?
And vineyards to drink your fill,
Plus kangaroo is so tasty you
don’t know what your missing!
Yes, I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know how I got here,
and I wonder when they’ll find me,
send me back to Santa Fe.
Yes, I woke up in Australia,
all because of some strange Sheila,
but I’m doing fine
under southern skies,
so what the hell, I’ll stay, G’day!
BANISH ME TO THE BOOKSHOP
Chain me, so I can roam. Lock me away in this bower.
Banish me to the bookshop - i’ll enjoy this affair for hours!
First editions recline behind smudge-proof glass.
Lock-and-key lick of lips, but I can’t afford the brass
ring, the covet of unopened leather, so I’d dance
through each unshielded shelf, illuminated romance,
the touch like a lover’s touch, before the cover’s
turned down. Miniature to oversized, to discover -
here titles do matter - beautiful, powerful, charming.
Turning over the self-help discourse, disarming
of self-loathing, fear, and bitter soul. Then straight
to a perfumery of fairy tales, feel the weight
of each piece of fruit in the balance of my teeny palms.
Even in the claustrophobic stuffiness of this shop, I feel calm.
Like tickling braille, my fingers glide over each word,
riveted by the familiar scent, I close my eyes, bestirred
by mysteries, history, fantasy, and the coquetry,
the delicious pageantry, vivid hues and imagery of poetry.
Chain me, so I can roam. Lock me away in this bower.
Banish me to the bookshop - i’ll enjoy this affair for hours!
3/10/2021
Bookshop
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
SCARED TO DEATH
I was warned not to go near that dreadful place,
And if I glanced them, to immediately
Turn my face,
Which I did, and began to run away in the pouring
Rain with all my might,
And turned down a dark lane thinking I was
Out of sight,
They however saw me and my footsteps
Began to trace,
I was afraid, horribly scared, trembling and
Wet, I was close to home, my safe space!
I hurriedly unlocked the door, the phone rang
It was midnight,
Heard windows shattering, dogs howling, the
Electricity died, there was no light,
A shadow emerged from nowhere, then two,
Three and four,
Vampires with razor sharp teeth surrounded me
Drooling, I looked down from above, I am no more!