T'is sunny outside
I shiver and shake
So much at stake
I'm hit, broadside
In virtue, my gain
Karma to repay
A coin for pain
One level up, say?
Body infirm
Mind at peace
Spirit confirm
Upstream to seize
I was solvent.
Inside the exterior.
The boy hanging from the ledge.
Cookies burning in the oven.
I was on that distant planet
With one flashing bar
Of battery left.
And in even then,
Absorbed with love.
A flailing brook
Of grammerless
Languageless
Broadside sea spray.
That one quarter left of pina colada.
A dalliance of dozens and dozens
Of dear loved ones.
As I clung there
Like a distant star
In commune
With a multiverse of stars.
THE UNSUPERVISED STOP SIGN
STOP! Said the sign at the crossing,
Plain and bold in red.
But I was in a hurry
And had to get home to bed.
The sign was quite unsupervised
And no-one was in sight.
So nobody would see me
At this time of the night.
I put my lights on full beam
And drove on past the sign.
The patrol car hit me broadside.
Now I face a hefty fine.
I said I had to get to bed
And that’s turned out all right.
I’m just about to go to sleep.
Thank you, nurse. Good night.
I'm skidding broadside,
in a cloud of smoke.
What an awesome ride,
as I go for broke.
This journey called life,
shouldn't be pretty.
Nor laden with strife,
just keep the gritty.
I'm totally fried,
what a wild ride!
~Johnnymac
My mind broadsided by my great-nephews imagination
I heard…
“When God made “Spongebob”, we weren’t here.”
Curiosity, the controlling force that it is made me ask,
“Where were we?”
5-year olds’ ideas are often in bold primary colors.
Another brain-broadside,
“We went to that other place, you know,
Heaven, so God could Create “Spongebob.
Nobody, not even us were in the whole galaxy.”
Now, who would have thought that God would need to shutdown
An entire galaxy for such a task? It must have been a hullabaloo of a re-boot!
Ah, the tune to which a young imagination dances...
A unique creation, seconded only by the images that it paints.
MIND GOES ON VACATION
My mind likes to go on vacation
but where it goes is anyone’s guess.
It will just take off without notice
leaves me and my head…an empty mess.
Its so irresponsible, my mind
to get up and go somewhere and hide.
As if not bad enough to leave town
leaves me feeling…been hit broadside.
Mind wants to escape each days struggles
understand, why wants to run and hide.
But it’s companion my beating heart
has Bible as it’s…trustworthy guide.
Our heart’s the seat of motivation
influences our passions and desire.
It implants within me grains of hope
the’ two of them’ still…my life inspire.
My mind’s brilliant and intelligent
when in the moment decides to stay.
But oh… things and people I forget
when suddenly turns…and walks away.
The embarrassing predicaments
when suddenly leaves and goes some where.
Silly and stupid mistake’s I make
always apologizing…here and there.
Honestly, my mind isn’t that bad
like body, a little out of shape.
Recent diagnosis of P.A.H.
lack of oxygen causes… mistakes.
Barbara Barry- Nishanian
July 17, 2018 copyright
All rights reserved
Let’s take this outside
Your turn to be objectified
Necktied offside and brutified
Come step outside
Where you can no longer hide
Now you and me can collide
You’re worse than godzilla’s bride
Torpefied and vilified
Uglified, mean and evil-eyed
Always snide and undignified
Ringside, in your false pride
the eyes of Hitler recognized
Executing his genocide
Feeling justified nationwide
Lately I’ve been preoccupied
With thoughts of homicide
Accident by countryside
broadside you flip side
See you land in the fireside
For all the misery aside
you put me through - testified
Is your meanness really classified
I’m no longer taking it - qualified
I‘m no longer hiding it - quantified
No more excuses - are you satisfied?
Germicide and pesticide
Have you ever tried
To drink a ton of formaldehyde
To soften up your cowhide
Now we can go back inside
Your reign of terror on override
You’re toast and you’re fried
You’re been hogtied and humanified
Stupefied and rectified
Just as prophesized
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on May 16, 2018 for contest 8-MILE STYLE POETRY CONTEST sponsored by NICK TRIM - RANKED 4TH
Form: Acrostic
Don’t walk by,pretend not to see
Outside in the cold is no place to be
Whistle to yourself,think glad it’s not me
No-one can escape their destiny.
No-one can prepare for all trials of life
One day it is bliss the next day is strife
Taking one day at a time is now my life.
Optimism is the only way out
Upturns are ahead I have no doubt
Thinking to myself I am down not out.
Because when I am sensing the dark side
I remember who always stands by side
Through him is where all my power does reside
Thrown away all I have of foolish pride
My love for him is no longer denied
No more drinking shall there be of their flouride
Caught I a glimpse of yonder far hillside
Location found is highly classified
Tell you its close though, time of the Yuletide
Be sure you protect your broadside
This is to make sure that you don't backslide
Vast distance to go before you reach dockside
The seas you travel know they are mystified
Dangers encountered will seemed magnified
At its end you journey will be justified
Jim Steneson had a problem with gas
without warning he'd let out a blast.
The stink was obscene
folks escaped the scene
and denounced Jim as a pain in the ass.
Broad shoulders,
Biceps the size of a tree trunk,
Forearms to match,
All from the swing,
Of that fourteen pound sword,
Practicing everyday,
For the battle,
With armor on,
Bright and silver,
To repel anothers blow,
Unpenatrating to the broadside of a sword,
Never expecting,
The hit from underneath the shinning armor,
But stabbed in the heart,
A far worse death,
Than a puncture of a sword,
A Woman, you once loved,
No matter how strong,
And big you are,
The pain comes,
From deep inside.
10/7
In honor we can stand together for the departed ones.
No tears or shame here; all nature sees is duty call.
At the rear, The Kilt deceives; the spies sneak.
Gospels of morals, ethics and truth, sidelined.
Those are pincer moves, from the decorated ones.
Gold, Silver plaque row: Commander’s crush?
No Captain can do very wrong, as he pace’s, places,
His ship along side a foe assault: Fair, power scoop?
Rate those, three-decker’s: 51 broadside rounds.
Flag ship in the line, gleaming heated fire balls.
Arrogance. Call’s the master at arms, eager waiting,
Run out guns, ticking beats, sizzle balls in hand.
O! Olea fragrance; shouldn’t one steal your breath,
Cast you in double yellow hues of smiling Petunia.
Ink you a friction, in colourful threads of truth.
Reveal magic, in the melodies of the erotic Moon.
Faithful, you can rift: embarrassment is on the drift.
Hear your tin clatters sing, on kilt’s captivating wings.
Can I bear should you wilt? Yonder perceive those winks.
Fair-one, ‘love or war’ I can see the Broad Pendant sink.
Stifle not time tested, glowing fires
Must you take heel, run pronto!
Lt. Mira holding the poisoned cup to sip.
Poker face, decks cleared for the volley,
From a three decker broadside.
A next please.
Read Shaw’s Arms and the Man
What of Sergious, The complete moron.
Get your charge of the femina brigade;
Decimated for all I care.
For once the huntress becomes the hunted.
You will come back frenzied truth; I Know.
Star attraction of this friendship,
Is the cacophony pedant.
The morbid self-preserving wish.
Take heed arrogance.
Duty bound we can enter its preserve
The armor is ethics and truth.
Worldlywise cynic, you may be immune.
No one is complete, be it man or the fair sex.
Sure, Amazon your honcho is on the wish list.
Nice girl, puff goes the smoke screen.
Would the warrior care to know? Yuppie!
What pincer moves, ‘Next Please’.
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