red-billed blue magpie ~
the white-breasted is egg thief
very clear to me!
I verse the barren cemented sidewalk
listening to shoes and soles and souls
speak their tired tongues, tortuous
aloneness my name, garden free
solitude my drops of watering
I’m rooted tough against storms
I wave my arms as breezes bring
messages you will not hear
awaiting fertiliser I will not taste
nourishment from glances of the few
still my resilience will aid imbalances
as my core emits survival frequencies
ticks suck my fluid for always He sends
rays of light into my breasted stamen
cracked spaces my choice turf
rejection strengthening spinal stem
away from acclaim I listen clear to
unsung heroes, heroines tempestuous
in concrete fissures of new beginnings
____________________
4th Placement : Standard Contest
Sponsor : Craig Cornish : March 26
With one breast
you nursed him, Amazon.
The other, cut away,
to aim at males.
The hours passed
with bated breath,
listening to your moans.
As you fed,
you killed,
and for another prey
you hoisted your sails.
You carried him in a sling
and went hunting.
One day, on a boat in the river,
you laid him down
and sailed far away.
With one breast
you nursed him, one-breasted—
and he became a man,
Sovereign of One,
with corrupted ideals.
Baku and the Swedish cook
It sounds impossible, but 72 years ago, I was
a galley-boy on an old tank ship loading
oil for Iceland, a country with watery beer
Baku, I remember the long avenue, empty
of people and poorly lit.
The cook and I had gone ashore, and we were
the only one who dared me, because I had
not been brainwashed, and the cook who
was Swedish, Stige Hellander, his name, and
a communist
There was a party somewhere near the men
Who wore a double-breasted suit to grow in
and padded shoulder, making them look odd
Oh, yes, they were party functionaries
Stige, the cook, enjoyed himself with free vodka.
They put it in a corner with a bottle of milk
and bars of chocolate, until it was time to go
back onboard, Stige, the cook, sang rude songs
Now, seventy-two years later, I learn that Baku
is not in Russia
Splish splash splash;
It is a colorful blash;
A brown leaf floats in a bathtub,
Does a leaf make noise, I doubt!!!
Yup!!! A little colorful leaf,
plunges into the bath;
Makes a sigh as a sign of relief;
Soon, other leaves join the path
Spattering the drops,
They do hop;
Here, over there,
And everywhere.
The leaves play, they giggle;
They spray , they wiggle;
They make fun, they relish;
O! I could be these leaves, I wish.
Hey! Wait!!!
How come the leaves look so cute!!!
Oh, they are Munias!!!
Scaly breasted Munias!!!
Like the splashes they splatter,
My worries they spatter
Cute little munchkin peers
Make me shed happy tears after years...
02-June-2025
PINK SCALLOP SHELL
Along my road to Freedom stood
showy blue-green sentinels with
white cloud whiffs representing Sky
starling decorated bushes joined
Party of the Road to nowhere
this was where Freedom
danced naked, her shadowed body
awaiting with roasted chestnuts
she met us with a hug and drums
on I moved to dissolve into River
braincells becoming numinous atomic matter
smiling towards Void, ever deeper into
Dark for Light, a von Gogh sunflower watched
in longing as breasted hills embraced
my drowning, matrix fell away
stillness and sound merging as did
boundaries, embankment with Freedom herself
from River into Sea
I became a pink scallop shell on
undulating ocean floor
Changes,
know what they’re all about;
Flip each of the pages
on double breasted doubt;
Let it go in stages.
Back road
may be a bit longer
but you lighten the load;
The trip makes you stronger
left running in beast mode.
Do it!
You have your future locked;
Sick rambunctious misfit
you always leave them shocked,
I’ve got five on your wit
Changes
can be for the better;
Those ho hum exchanges
gone for something greater;
Blitz fire rearranges.
An ode to the gustatory ******
My mouth meanders through this dream
This memory of breakfast in bed
A lover seducing my every desire
Sweet maple, slight hint of flannel
A light crispness of waffle
Caressed by firm red breasted berries
A passing breath of hickory smoke
To mingle light sweetness
With the tingle of strawberries
Bathed in Vermont’s best maple
Eggs, uncaged, unfettered by shells
Sunrise yolks spreading across crisp waffles
To quell the insatiable beast of morning
Palate cleansed by the darkness
Of steaming hot black coffee
A tremble at the first taste of
Egg-stasy kissed by syrup
Teased by a sharp berry bite
Placed upon the edge
Of hickory salty ham
My taste buds shriek
As each bite intensifies
My gustatory ******
Oslo
I was in Oslo once and saw the old king
riding a horse, but I was a painting of the Danish king
the king of Norway is more moderate
he drives Bentley
The king and I are of the same age,
he looks stylish
in his admiral uniform with gold tresses
I wear a black T-shirt. shirt it has a pocket for my glasses
The t. shirt hangs on the balcony to dry
while I sit bare-breasted on the sofa, waiting for
the t. shirt to dry
it is the only shirt that hides my sagging stomach
The king was in Lisbon two years ago
the embassy
had a garden party, I was not invited, despite
I was the only true seaman among the lot
I blame the posh people at the embassy, who thought
I might ask the king for a bigger pension
As I said,
I was in Oslo many years ago, invited to read
poetry, which I tried to do, but next door
a horn music orchestra was training words that came
out of my mouth, died in the horrible noise
Yes, they had a flight to Lisbon this very afternoon
when the plane landed, I could have kissed
the tarmac, but being a Norwegian, I'm reserved
Whatever you do in life, you can't forget were
you were born
red-breasted cherubs
nestled within mistletoe ~
holiday feasting
She stands before me bare-breasted
My zest, in her, is not vested
She's in my mirror
As though a horror
Stares as a witch, not well rested...?
With the incoming sounds of spring, a resurrection of life,
the chilliness flees. Quote _ by Poet
Ready for a new season, Spring birds
Shake off winter; embracing
The bonniest warmness weather,
Babies born, and color of nature's crowns.
Scarlet Tanagers chatter, flying round,
Feasting on caterpillar's slowness
And beetles boring away that are found;
whilst
Eternal sunlight reft through sturdy limbs
And myriad leaves of the mighty old oak;
Rapid rhythm clatter drum sounds
Of the Woodpecker on its breast shout.
A hum, a garden faintly woo a smile
At song sung by pretty red feather Robin dancing.
A sweet kiss, a seed, the male Cardinal
Feeds his blush pretty mate favor.
Yonder pond, tree boughs
Teasing the water's edge
Whilst
Little Mallard ducklings
Follow mamma to the bank.
Bluebird builds her nest
Right in the heart of the sprouting
Redbud flowering tree.
Camouflage in the red begonia
An orange breasted Oriole
With its sweet enchanting sound.
On the horizon the fire fades out,
Hush around in high perch, tiny roosting
Cold blue moon comes into sight.
Lady Godiva wasn't trying to be cute
When she went for that ride in her birthday suit.
It was her husband's taxes she protested,
All butt naked and bare-breasted,
She only did as he'd suggested, so any argument was moot.
The townsfolk of Coventry were warned not to peek,
And no lecherous looks at the lady to seek.
But one sneak did succumb,
Later called "Peeping Tom",
And was struck blind and dumb 'cause his morals were weak.
When Lady G. returned home, she re-braided her tresses,
Re-robed and prepared for her hubby's redresses.
But he didn't rebuke her for going out starkers
Or for publicly displaying bush, bum, and knockers,
And, though truly chagrined, he rescinded his taxation excesses.
Pastel droplets fall from
Pink sprinkled sunlight on
Ponds and meadows blooming
Pathways of color as
Pearly breasted bluebirds
Perch where past springtimes have
Painted my heart with hope
3/27/23
Writing Challenge P Words Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
In a bar room they boldly contested
Though both were quite fully breasted
On the wall who’d pee higher
The dame or her squire
He lost when "no hands" was requested
John G. Lawless
©3/22/2023
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