Best Winning Streak Poems
slowly, softly
he paints each
phalanx,
gently
a pale shade
of nude pink
the shade of
opening
conch shell
silky inner lipped
later,
not much later,
he slips them
into his hands
perfectly
they fit
like warm sandals
each fingerprint
wrapped around
slender bare feet;
moving up
to clasp the ankles,
he thinks
he’s on a winning streak
the fragrant frangipani oil
like slippery ink
he writes words
on her hot skin
then later,
not too much later,
he lifts each slick satin limb
like they're a gift to the gods
he prays in between
her eyes, fluorescent glistening
her perfume, the scent of sea
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Lose Control. Teddy Swims.
Observe and see
Festive cheer warms;
Spirits set free
~~~~~~~~~
Cherry blossoms
Pink carpet pathway;
Waiting patiently
~~~~~~~~~
Here's to you
Sakura moments;
Sparkling sunshine
~~~~~~~~~
Moon overhead
View from my window;
Tender conversations
~~~~~~~~~
Mahjong games
Relatives chit-chat;
My winning streak
~~~~~~~~~
Touch of magic
Spring wind rustles;
Cheery blossoms fall
~~~~~~~~~
Moonlight stroll
Old arch bridge;
Squeaky wood groans
~~~~~~~~~
Two cats sit
Eerie moon glow;
February interlude
~~~~~~~~~
Business sold
Fortune gained;
Hollow feeling
~~~~~~~~~
Here's to good cheer
Another year;
Grey hairs draw near
~~~~~~~~~
Old footpath short cut
Patient feet chiseled;
Old habits die hard
~~~~~~~~~
Memories unfurl
Grass verge updates;
Poignant moments
~~~~~~~~~
Joy greets sorrow
Sad together;
Melancholia sings
~~~~~~~~~
Elysia calls
Going home again;
Sudden departure
~~~~~~~~~
Photo album
Old era relatives;
Sepia burnout
~~~~~~~~~
Study abroad
Down Under Melbourne;
Kangaroo hop-scotch
~~~~~~~~~
Tinge of sadness
Stop to remember;
Fond times quicken
~~~~~~~~~
Airport terminal
Exquisite dine-in;
One for the road
~~~~~~~~~
Listless here
Holiday moods;
Mahjong punctuation
~~~~~~~~~
Toss of lucky food
Yu Sheng expose;
Fortune smiles
~~~~~~~~~
Words catch up
Meaning and motive;
Juxtapose
~~~~~~~~~
Spring season
Oriental red;
Chinatown tinctures
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
22 February 2015
Singapore
As life is like a wheel, best of time could turn up
Bad time moves to alternate what’s on top
Be steep in spirit at the height of your loss
And be humble when winning comes to a close
As trunk of a tree is cut and becomes support
As diamond is cut in its desired form
While silkworm works hard to spin a silken cocoon
For human sufferings in life, they become of worth
No one will make a bow without an arrow
Likely God won’t test you if you are weak
If you fail today, don’t fill your heart with sorrow
Instead, pose a chic smile with a winning streak
There’s no turning back to correct the past
Rather move forward to create a better future
If you join a race and landed last
The last to come is a determined winner
If you can cry for a loss
Why can’t you smile for a cause?
As time goes by, old ones become more valuable
A newly born becomes adorable
Avoiding the challenge can change nothing
But facing the challenge can change everything
If we come across the wrong road
There is always the other way around
By: Noel N. Villarosa
First posted in www.voicesnet.com
5/10/2009
Hey Jesus Christ is our Quarterback,
He's MVP and never gets sacked,
Twelve Apostles are the rest of the team,
The Bible is their rule and Jesus is their steam.
They always win and never lose,
Cheering for souls for God to use,
With Father God as the Heavenly Coach,
The Holy Spirit now will approach.
God's Angels are the team to try,
Wearing their jerseys all will fly,
Across the goal line happily,
Scoring touchdowns for Eternity.
Some are not fans of this great sport,
Wait till you join this Heavenly Court,
And be a player on a winning streak,
God's Angels team is quite unique.
Teresa Skyles
Co-written Linda-Marie Bariana one of the best poets on soup.
Entered in Chris D.Aechter"2nd.chance"contest
While I was drinking in the Vic'
Out Goondiwindi way,
This burnt out ringer on his horse
Reined in and said, "G’day!"
We'd all been playing 301,
So asked could he join in.
"Sure thing old mate!" we all agreed,
Which brought a toothless grin.
"The name is Paddy Mellon boys ...
I'll have a pot please love ...
I feel I'm on a winning streak
Or there’s no God above."
He sat there perched upon his stool
Between the pub's doorway,
And held the reins of his old horse,
Which sensed he planned to stay.
The pots went down and time flashed by,
He won near ev'ry game,
But Paddy's knees were bowing fast,
His aim a bit the same.
By late that 'arve the wobbly boot
Had taken full control,
Old Paddy’s winning streak had gone
And Nick had claimed his soul.
Poor Paddy's darts they missed their mark,
The grog had soaked his brains,
But Paddy he just blamed the horse.
"Stop pulling on the reins!" The boys in blue had called in too
And warned him there and then,
"We catching you riding that horse drunk
You'll see a cell ag'en."
Old Paddy broke and out of luck
Resigned to riding off
And as he rode into the night
He gave a smoker's cough.
He'd only gone a block or two
When who should drive on past.
None other than the boys in blue,
Who turned around real fast.
But Paddy though had seen them too
And instinct then took hold.
He jumped behind the saddle quick,
His grin was brazen, bold.
The constable looked up at him,
He'd teach this ringer what.
"We told you not to ride that horse,
You poor old drunken sot!"
But Paddy said, "You've got it wrong,
I am not riding Sir.
You see on this old horse my friend
I'm just a passenger!"
mind gone there's no more credibility
unable to accept any responsibility
trust is lost when will we find the closing
cost
have no fear push those away who want
to draw near
the temptation is great when there's
nothing but hate
mentally controlled by forces unknown
just want to be left alone
continually being drug back like a train
coming off track
an example must be set but it's so hard
living with so much regret
knowing the future seems so bleak gotta
find one more winning streak
only worry is letting others down the
burden of holding the crown
identity has been misplaced along with all
natural taste
thoughts are screaming into the ears
mistakes made throughout the years
when will this storm end like a message
that won't send
rains bring in floods of unrest and all the
doubt fueled by this unwanted guest
never ending thoughts of heaven and hell
wanting so bad to just hear the bell
physically asleep but sub consciously
awake trying to find the right combination
of pills to take
bury all the feelings within like writing a
letter but don't know where to begin
just so tired of this rambling and all this
mindless gambling
When I was young I thought I thought I could Fly,
Off the roof of the garage without a jet pack.
Life experience taught me different.
But even when only four I knew I could not get to the top of the garage,
Without a ladder or a helping hand from someone six foot plus.
Not so for the latest generation of,
Wanna be high flyers,
Who think they can fly to the top of the money tree,
By bypassing the bottom rung of the ladder,
Metaphorically speaking, of course,
As most, have never been up a ladder in reality, in their life.
Anyone pushing seventy or beyond,
Will most likely remember that few got to the top of the money tree,
In their chosen field,
Without serving some sort of apprenticeship,
Which required stepping on to the bottom of a ladder,
Both, metaphorically and physically.
There are few among us who have no sympathy,
Or respect for teachers, if we are not still in school,
And there is no doubting the stress they are under.
But when In NZ the teachers have rejected a pay rise,
That would see a teacher starting on only $1.99 above the,
New Minimum Wage,
I say only, as for most who served apprenticeships had high hopes,
Of one day earning $1.99 an hour.
And most did and much more over time.
Some of us even decided to change on a change of career,
And you guessed it,
Another apprenticeship and back down the ladder we went,
Never for a moment did we think we could fly to the top of the money tree,
Without a jet pack,
Or a winning streak at the races.
Having served an apprenticeship both metaphorically and physically speaking
Having switched from the printing trade to Early childhood teaching,
Having been up and down ladders Metaphorically and physically speaking,
Having been in and out of sight of the top of the money tree,
Metaphorically and physically speaking.
And as I stand here in sight of the top of the tree of life experience,
Metaphorically physically speaking,
I can see the money tree is getting taller by the year,
And most will have lost their hair before they get anywhere near.
So, with all that life experience under my belt,
I feel quite entitled to ask,
Where did we go wrong?
Who failed whom?
And who stole all the ladders?
Both physically and metaphorically speaking, of course.
Postcard update
Tells a lot here;
Himalayan trip
~~~~~~~~~
Adrenaline rush
Good news galore;
A winning streak
~~~~~~~~~
My darling's face
Warm sun comes up;
Rainbow smiles
~~~~~~~~~
Lines flavour
Meeting of minds;
Transcend small talk
~~~~~~~~~
Joy in the breeze
Moist feel of rain;
Old dog barks
~~~~~~~~~
Live plainly here
Let faith unveil;
Watch dawning grace
~~~~~~~~~
Waltz with tempo
Sweet music score;
Twin flames dance
~~~~~~~~~
Hurl of dawn
Night opts out;
Embrace new day
~~~~~~~~~
Set new sights
Purge dilemma;
New journal page
~~~~~~~~~
Another day
A blank cheque;
Signature more
~~~~~~~~~
Streaming sunshine
Bright morning charms;
Birdsong salute
~~~~~~~~~
Leon a Enriquez
31 May 2016
Singapore
Once upon my life story...
Once upon a time I was an infant of only 5.5 pounds
Used to cry and make crazy sounds
Once upon a time I was a toddler obnoxious and hyper
I would play all day in my dirty diaper
Once upon a time I was an angry, spiteful kid
Almost everyday I got wrote up and sent to the office for the things I did
Once upon a time I was a ugly duckling
Picked on by girls because of how I looked, everyday I was sulking
Once upon a time I was a weakling
Unsociable I was and mean
Once upon a time I was neglected
The outcast with no place, I was rejected
Once upon a time I reached the age of thirteen
I decided to awaken a potential unseen
Once upon a time I was shunned because of my flaws
Now I am the exact opposite of who I was
Upon this time I am no longer a ugly duckling
Those same girls tried to flirt with me, (funny) in the inside I'm chuckling
Upon this time I am no longer weak
After years of training in martial arts I mastered my physique,
I challenged the football team to a one handed push up contest,
I laughed as I continued my winning streak
Upon this time I am no longer neglected
I am calm, patient, and collected
Upon this time I am eighteen
Graduated last week and now I set off to seek my dreams
And that's the end of my 'once upon a time' story
The winner wins but having won moves on
for winning is the proudest thing he’s done.
But winning only once could never be
enough to make his place in history.
The winner wins but having won moves on
for his winning streak had only just begun.
The winner wins and then he wins again
that others lost helps elevate his fame.
He wins at Chess and Snakes and Ladders too
there isn’t any game he can’t beat you.
The winner wins but having won moves on
for his winning streak had only just begun.
The winner wins and having won moves on
as winning became ‘Father, Ghost and Son’.
He now finds winning feeds his mortal greed
and winning is the only food he’ll ever need
The winner wins but having won moves on
for his winning streak had only just begun.
The winner wins but having won moves on
and races to the place where life is won.
He’s met by judges two between the gates
but enters in the first, he cannot wait.
The winner wins but having won moves on
for his winning streak had only just begun.
The winner won but having won moves on
where hotter stakes for winning could be won.
The fires of hell now burn with winning pride
for the Devil has a winner by his side!
Ivor G Davies
Moonie
It was in the seventies I was out at St George,
Playing pool with the locals,
and the blacksmith from his forge,
I was winning, had a winning streak,
But I was getting a bit drunker,
So it was time to drive 300 miles,
in me Holden, the old clunker,
I was on a 200 mile stretch,
Black forest all around,
Drunk as 40 cats,
Glassy eyed,
half alkie sorta drowned,
I came up the darkened valley,
Not a bat or ne’er a sound,
Hair jumped up upon me neck,
great golden ball, sat on the ground,
Big as a house the golden ball,
I sobered oh so quick,
Just the bloody full moon that’s all,
No sign of mean ole Nick,
Cos, it was the highway Moonie
A small paradise island,
In the Caribbean Sea,
Rain comes once a year,
Sure does sound like ecstasy.
It’s not in travel brochures,
And there is no airport here,
The population’s seventy,
Not all of them appear!
A cabin on the waterfront,
No need to lock the doors,
A haven for a writer,
Whose life needs a little pause.
The laptop on the worktop,
Shouting out for a new chapter,
No internet to access,
Without finding an adaptor.
The wine bottles are chilling,
To go with the evening meal,
A fish caught just this afternoon,
Does so much now appeal.
No television to tune in,
The Radio not clear,
But nobody is caring,
When they see the lifestyle here.
The preface and three chapters,
To be finished by July,
It’s not on track but soon he’ll be,
Inspired by the sky.
He’s got his tan researching,
While he lay there on the deck,
But sometimes he gets word blind,
It’s a real pain in the neck.
But then he thinks about this life,
That he’s always desired,
He thinks about his characters,
He’s soon again inspired.
No pattern to his writing,
He just scribes when in the mood,
He pauses for a drink or two,
Of course when he needs food.
He said he’d write a masterpiece,
That’s still what he intends,
But for the length it’s taking,
He will have to make amends.
Another chapter finished,
To the publisher conveyed,
No reasons or excuses,
Why again he was waylaid.
Now on the final chapter,
His conclusion due next week,
He’s finishing the epilogue,
Now on his winning streak.
He sends it to the publisher,
Who says he has no equal,
They say “we love you, please ensure
You’re quicker with the sequel”!
I met a young woman, she was unique but found it a bit hard to speak.
She said, because people think she's a freak, she had no support from her friends, they were too busy calling her a geek.
She was so tired of her life being critiqued, it was making her weak and life to her was looking pretty bleak.
Well, your life is yours, you don't have to sneak, at your life just take a peek, when they look at you they see mystique and you are more precious than the most valuable antique.
Where as keeping up with the Joneses is what they seek, only havoc on their lives is what this will wreak, for what they think they see is really oblique which is why they keep finding themselves up a creek.
Again, your life is yours, you were made unique you just need to spend time developing your technique and please, don't freak when you go on your winning streak and become chic.
Be Unique, Devolope Your Own Technique.
After rounding up some cattle
I headed to the saloon
To have a drink or two
And hear a bawdy tune
Cowpokes were gambling
And guzzling up their beer
The women were upstairs
Their bosoms amply filled
Waiting to give us all a thrill
After a couple shots of whiskey
A poker game I did seek
Hoping I'd soon be on a winning streak
My luck was going good and
The cowpokes I was beating
Until big Jim accused me of cheating
A fight broke out and turned into a brawl
Big Jim got hit, and took a mighty fall
When it was all over I was still standing tall....
The cattle would be rounded up tomorrow once again
And I would be right there, ridin' on the plains
1-26-2021
Cowboy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Brown may be the color of chocolate
Brown is one of nature's richest Earth tones
Brown is the color of father's wallet
Brown is a shade of tasty ice cream cones
The gravel and dirt on my shoes are brown
When I fell, the mud on my knees was brown
I looked and found your shoes were also brown
You touched me and I found beautiful brown
Brown is the open windows to your soul
Brown is the color that makes me go weak
Brown gave new meaning to becoming whole
Brown is an ever-lasting winning streak
Brown fills my heart that it bursts at the seams
Brown is now my future to all my dreams