Best What A Blast Poems
178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout, 'dead man walking.'
He sits savoring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying,
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth, unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes, as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace, feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy of his own premature death.
Silent One collaboration with Robert Lindley
17 December 2017
Dearest Darren I miss you oh so much
All I want is for you to be returned to good health
Romantic writes you penned so well
Ridiculous sense of humour we share
Emails flew between us faster than Concorde
No one could make me laugh the way you do
Wish I knew how you are doing my friend
All my love and prayers are sent to you
There will never be another to take your place
So much fun being your poetry partner
Oh what a blast we had writing as Jadazzle United
Never a day passes when I don’t think of you
01~31~15
SOUP SAFARI
, , , ,
here I am in NYC...packing after a safari –theme night party
with Soup members two nights ago, filled with awed revelry.
shrieks whistling on linked arms during a photo shoot,
as live cheers of Constance and Andrea went “ whoot!”
while Debbie and Michael hosted “Tag, you’re ‘It’ “games
bringing Nikko and Sara to compete in spelling members’ names…
I still remember Robert H. reciting his comic spiels, what a blast!
our jaws locked from clapping at Dr. Ram’s impromptu dance act,
till Kashinath segued into a sitar rap in his flashy jungle attire
prompting Linda to donate PM prizes, much to our hearts’ desire.
on our table, an exciting blend of brew amped repartee’s pitches
amused by Brian fleshing parts of short forms without glitches,
enter wacky Sydney applying geographic values to long verse usage
with footnotes on how worlds expand over time from poetic vantage,
oh, how Gwen sparkled with pleasantries as cups of jokes poured
most memorable of all, the warm personal shares of soupers' world
that drew us closer as real people with scraps here and there
recalling red-cherry days and funny bloopers’ wear and tear…
and as I leave from 8th street hailing a taxi to catch a plane,
notes and album tugged this heart, anticipating next gang’s chain.
copyright
, , , , ,
DEDICATED TO P.D: get well soon and take your daily dose your soup!
*notes: with admiration for soup members included herein... all in the
name of pure fun!
* Gwendolyn Rix, Brian Strand, Sydney Peck, Myself
* For Michael Falotico’s Table for Four/ P.D Soup Contest
* by nette onclaud
Animal was happy in mud
rolled in it whenever he could
Miss Piggy looked aghast
Kermit said what a blast
Gonzo thought all Muppets should
Penned 1 Sept 2018
All creatures from the Muppets
178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout,
'dead man walking.'
He sits savouring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying;
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth,
unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes,
as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace,
feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy
of his own premature death.
My eco car runs on natural gas
Naught to sixty, what a blast
It runs like a dream
Refueled by baked beans
All free from a humans ass
Oh, the memories of school days from the past,
Those high school days I will never forget;
Happy to recall those gym dances, oh what a blast !
All of us girls loved those dances with no regrets,
Crowding into the restrooms to fix hair and makeup;
Those high school days- I will never forget !
Oh, for days, new dance steps we would dream up,
Then the day arrives and girls and boys fill the gym;
Crowding- in the restrooms fixing hair and makeup !
Boys on one side, girls on the other, then I saw HIM,
Madonna was doing the Vogue and we did not move;
Then the day arrives- and girls and boys fill the gym !
I was ready to show off my attire and my groove,
Then, it happened, Jennifer was singing, Lets Get Loud,
Madonna was doing the Vogue- and we did not move !
Then, I was Livin La Vida Loca, I was on a cloud,
Oh, the memories of school days- from the past;
Then it happened Jennifer was singing, Lets Get Loud,
Happy to recall those gyms dances, oh what a blast !
___________________________
February 4, 2016
Poetry/Terzanelle/Livin La Vida Loca
Copyright Protected, ID 16-752-332-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Lets Hear It,
sponsor, Judy Konos
First Place
Three dear friends from the past popped back into my life today
Sarai, Donna, and Mary Jo
A red letter day, this day,Wednesday, November 19th, 2014
It shall go down as one of those days that are hard to explain
What a coincidence, all three on the same day!
The stars and everything else must be in total alignment
My life is back in perfect harmony again
What do you call it when this happens
Karma, kismet, destiny, whatever explanation you can think of
It blew mw away... what a blast!
As you can see I'm having trouble keeping a lid on my emotions
THIS time we won't lose track of each other
As always, we can never be sure what tomorrow will bring
But it will take a lot to top this one
Thanks to these three dear sweet ladies
Sarai, Donna, and Mary Jo
© Jack Ellison 2014
It was that special night…
Of fright and delight….
The kind that most children enjoy…
Where monsters and clowns sleep under the bed.
while children with their favorite toy…
pull the covers over their head..
But this one was different …
Some still can’t believe it…
But it’s up to you to decide…
The costumes were chosen, and the children quite proud….
knew they were going to be the scariest and creepiest ones in the crowd..
The night was windy and a little bit cool….
they all met as planned down by the school..
There was a Werewolf , a Witch, a Vampire and a Clown..
who had a smile which was turned upside down.
No one spoke, as they were all in disguise…
because that would have ruined the big surprise…
They went up to the houses yelling “ trick or treat “..
And each got something good to eat…
Oh, what a blast they had that night..
Running up and down the streets..
Filling their tummies with lots of sweets..
It was getting late and they were tired. .we should be in bed, they said..
But before we go, we need to know, which one of us is “Fred ?”
So they took off their masks…and to their surprise..
The Werewolf was Mason, the Witch was Gabby…
And the Vampire was their best friend the little blonde Abby….
Oh then you must be Fred.. ..they said to the clown..
But ...when the clown started to remove his mask…
they discovered the truth…he wasn’t wearing one….
* watch for sequels in this series
Deep thought
reality sometimes lets you in,
thoughts are deeds, see em pass,
across the mind, what a blast,
without a hint of sin....
let no evil thought exude,
see your sister healthy dude,
see aorta shrinking bulge,
see it happen , me indulge,
cos it can be true,
xray says it do,
Worked on cousin Alice….
Link her face with trouble too,
See her getting better, blue,
Thoughts are deeds, the magic place,
Within your mind the interface,
The helper can be you!
Positivity IS our place….
Don Johnson
Thank you Joe Maverick….
Asking or wondering,
teasing or affiliation,
you never said sorry,
for what you did to me,
here i am today,
sitting all alone,
out here in the stone cold world,
asking myself the same question,
did you ever really loe me,
as each day goes on,
memories are becoming the past,
now looking back,
what a blast we all had,
never will it be the same,
because you thought i was insane,
leaving behind all the people you ruthlessly blame,
sitting here all alone,
wondering why the h*** i ever cry,
you dont give a f*** about me,
so why should i,
yes i maybe your daughter,
very first child for that matter of fact,
you still turned your back,
and to this day have never looked back,
to see what a wonderful child you really do have....
Mercantilist's eating's math
noon at McDonalds, what a blast,
resolve the crowding, in youths path
the refill pop, the greatest lathe!
A happy wave, the managers wrath
is so subdued, her profits stag
is coinciding teamwork's staff
Keep quiet a bit, my poem grows ~ half!
This wanderings rebuff, seeming quaff,
I must find sustenance, not graft
IT'S HERE ~ the burger, fries, compact
so journey's reason, eat ~ no flack~
I'll learn to write, booth, table's track
vacations harboring of new facts,
so commonplace, all drive-ins have
their time, your stomach . . . last/alas!
FATE?
Some say that retribution's fine,
high intervention seems divine.
The spark of lightning's suffered break,
no satisfaction do I take,
coincidence doth make this rhyme.
by vk4pr Don
Or how a knockers early 1990 8088, 10 megahertz computer got scorched
by lightening years ago when i was using Ham radio
a bit more often
Carolyn,
poor ole radio sits alone,
used to talk to my dad on it, i own,
recorded his stories on an ole reel tape,
perhaps frequency movie i can ape,
hope ya healthy happy babe, a going,
johnsons gone so hold the phone:)
on ya baba, love....Don
John Smith,
I annoyed a Ham, lightening hit his antennae mast,
scorched his modem and toway radio,what a blast,
jumped into the old xt computer box,
an blue the bejesus out of its socks,
onetimes not:)
MORAL don't pick on poor ole johnson:(
My life's been fine without you -- really has.
A Belgian bar has opened in the square,
and weekends, we do beer and tapas there,
then Malcolm and Elaine's place, for some jazz
and Jamieson's. May in Cortes -- what a blast!
Right now, I'm growing sideburns! Summer hols,
we'll all dress up as bandits and their molls!
I've never laughed so much. Who needs the past?
Yet sometimes, when the lake frowns in the rain,
or April squalls tug blossoms from the trees,
I think of you. This sadness preordained,
like plane trees pollarded, proud amputees
shorn of their plumes, emerges, stark and strange:
and I know then. Some things will never change.
Back to School, on the first day
there will be no going out to play
pen and paper is all you need
no books or backpacks or lockers, you see
just crowded hallways for you and me
fighting the crowd to get to your next class
meeting new teachers,
wow what a blast!
Some you like and some you don’t
especially that weird old bloke
who tries to say everything in one stroke
and turns so red he make YOU choke
with worry of course because what it happening is SO NOT funny . . .
WHATEVER! You just can’t stop laughing
uh-oh so now he’s mad
you’ve set yourself, for the year
now to face you worst fear
a teacher who will pick on you for the rest of the year