Best Valves Poems

“I know my heart will never be the same
But I'm telling myself I'll be okay”
Sara Evans

My heart no longer
beats the same,
as I’ve wiped away 
tainted tints on
vain valves.
Bleeding out
shattered dreams. 
Colors of fallen 
needle-shaped leaves, 
emanate shades 
of memories,
lost along a clamor of 
fragmented pieces,
where...

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Some people wind up with twisted knickers
When they get insulted by nitpickers
Words are sticks and stones
Causing moans and groans
When they hear heckling whispers and snickers

Women used to call knickers 'underpants'
They'd get them twisted with tauntings and rants
Causing quite a rage
No matter their age
As if their...

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How much can i be vicious?
How much can i be worst ?
If i stop forgetting and start holding..
The devil whispers in my ear 
Heart started to sink .
Lets just forgive 
Then here comes villainous voices
From my heart .....
Which strangles me and says..
"I wanna kiss his face 
With my...

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Don't rip your heart open too deep
(All they'll see are the valves and the veins)
Don't puke out your guts in one heap
(All they'll smell is the rotten Chow Mein)

Footnote: I decided to enter this as my worst poem because it really stinks and makes me...

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His hand is strafing the castellation on his trumpet, the valves moving up down up down like deranged pistons under the random machine gun fire of his fingers. Each note is a projectile that concusses the air, chases the one before it, nudges it from...

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your love ~ my muse
your voice ~ my prose
            s l i
                p
                     s    and sails in the sky ~
stroking the silhouette
             of
snow-kissed mountains,
mirroring memories
of moon-flames
seized like picturesque
     ...

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You spoke a new language
  of rarefied air
  guided nonchalantly 
  through curving channels of brass

Conduits of cool
  juries of jazz
  floating past soulful valves 
  harbingers of what will come

Slender fingers
  improvising storylines
  magistrates of melancholy
...

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I saw a dazzling rose,
Whose red petals cast blinding hues upon me.
She shot her cupid arrows from the Kabaka’s backyard,
And punctured the cocoon of my innocence.  

My heart burnt for a feel of her spangled petals,
My ferocious passions lost their sturdy grip on restraint...

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Arising, splits the purple nuclear sky,
Rends the dark valleys with light,
Spills along footpaths and alleys,
The glory of morning, ending of night.

In sanction, closing of the chaos,
Soothes the hot valves with dragon-heart balm,
Beams with serenity and salves,
In silvery moonlight, infinite calm.

Above, my ascendant sun and moon,
Arc-light...

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He never once mentioned the pressure of his blood
or his Mam
I found dead on the floor

his Dad’s cancer
or his younger brother
not once, during the best years of my life

he fixed cars
with a pipe slowly smoking

a magician with gauges and valves

he drank small amounts of beer
most...

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A is for Accordion, squeezing air with bellows
B is for Banjo, five strings plucked by bluegrass fellows

C is for Clavichord, keyboard with a metal sound
D is for the Drums which percussionists will pro-pound

E is for the English horn, using a double-reed
F is for a brass...

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Chernobyl.


A nuclear disaster, in the Russian town Chernobyl,
An odor-less killer, the invisible force.
As the radiation escapes, from the crumbling reactor,
We must cool it down, before it blows.


Evacuate Pripyat, the employee’s town,
The town of 35000; first on the list of infected people.
No warnings to the town...

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Mrs. Lightfoot had taught music at Talbot Elementary School for years.
A couple of her pupils excelled in music but most became engineers.
She sat at her desk to muse upon the past after another trying day,
Recalling events that had contributed to the 'dyeing' of her hair...

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IMPRISONED     (collaboration)


by~  Jun-jun Villanueva

Urbane cavalcade - flaunt in gaiety
Warbling hymns in ego - cyclicity
Jigging gracile moves in vivacity
Relishing in zest in this gravity
Kinsfolk in flamboyant fete - oh its fate?
Smiles, elation in face delineate
Like nothing's wrong makes me exasperate
No one...

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Some are shiny 
Fuel injected or carbureted   
Hands washed after work or grimy 
Green lights anticipated

Some are small block
Bored out pistons roar
Pride, nothing stock
New valves, what a chore 

Overhead cams pushed to the limit
Rocker arms at full extension 
Gears a ’grinding, spin it...

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