They left Southampton with a coal fire down below,
Olympic class of the White Star Line, little did they know.
Irish-built in Belfast, one iceberg was all it took as,
with insufficient lifeboats, the whole wide world it shook.
Departing Queenstown, compartments not all watertight,
unsinkable or so they said, until that tragic night...
(almost a six-day cruise).
She was poorly equipped and, as all good Captains do
(tho' that is not his due), Edward Smith
(and fifteen hundred souls or more)
went down with the ship.
And the band played on as the ship was going down,
were they blind (drunk?), out of their minds,
they were all about to drown.
Some thought 'Bravery,' others, 'Stupidity,'
(altho' cold as ice), I can say, quite categorically,
I would have jumped ship if it were me.
Tho' it's a deep subject, rock-bottom at very best,
the play on Broadway (take a bow) you won't see,
of lost lives and broken hearts
is... 'The Titanic, In Two Parts'.
There's no need to be alarmed, I'll wake up anyway,
perhaps today they won't hassle me, it will be better day;
ship was sinking, englishman said: 'Women and children first,
american said: '---- the women,' 'frenchman said: 'Is zere time?'
I listen to Chopin who designed his notes so beautifully,
the coordination from war-torn Poland categorically;
I ask myself - what did I achieve? No one had a life like me,
I broke hearts, like a cunning bridge player in spades and hearts.
Now time is running out, you wonder what death is like,
the only certainty, they say don't speak ill, but I'll strike,
at the unbelievable, how grotty some were, cast no doubt,
but then that's what this life was apparently just all about.
It's over, the hands are together, so tissue, tissue, tissue,
it's not just me but I bet you guys also had a few issue.
Located in the perfect place
Filed in transparent drawer
Unruly impediments erased
Facets interact free of flaw
Seamless system clockwork
Methods remain meticulous
Design drawn up by a doctor
Considered, inconspicuous
Routine guides a room's tidy
Itemising verbatim shelves
Briefcase organised abiding
Data struck upon first delve
Packed in precise patterns
Utility is readily predicted
Shipshape sailing on satin
Scurvy sufferers evicted
Fold exposes name brand
Recognised categorically
Regular overhauls planned
Excess viewed as slovenly
Upkeep travels compact
In zipped compartments
Disarray tends to detract
Regimented requirements
8th of **** April
Positively,
Definitely,
Absolutely,
Certainly
Irreversibly,
Undeniably,
Unerringly,
Reliably
Categorically,
Indisputably,
Unfalteringly,
Irrefutably
Undoubtedly,
Irrevocably,
Unquestionably,
Unequivocally...
... FINAL!
Maybe.
While Cataloguing Catacombs
in ancient Kathmandu
he chanced upon a Catamaran
from nineteen sixty-two.
He Categorized Caterpillars
in an old Catalpa tree
he grabbed a limb that wasn't there
it was a real Catastrophe.
At night his Cat would Caterwaul
out back behind the house
but he Categorically denied
that he smoked Catnip with the mouse.
He had Cattle on his acreage
and Catfish in the lake
he knew a mighty Catamount
who went by the name of Jake.
He retired to Catalonia
where he grew Catawba grapes
but Cataplexy did him in
from which there's no escape.
With a Catafalque for his coffin
inside the Cathedral tall
they Catered in a dinner
and mourned him one and all.
It was predictable
You would come
And smile
I cleaned the stable
Put a handsome
bouquet of roses
On a table
In the right hand corner
Near the window
Put some white gladioli
Wrapped with
A brown paper too
Lest what is predictable
Didn't come true
It was you who
made it predictable
For you said
Categorically
Whether spring or rain
You would be with me
Doctor came in the evening
Angiography was done
He wrote on the report
Normal
But
Sought opinion
Of the departmental head
I was left swinging
Between bouquet
And brown paper
You are smiling
Jasmine flowers
You are sure
Roses prevail
Tomorrow morning
There will be an aurora
She said with an euphoria
____________________________
December 8, 2019
Predictable Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Trish Lee was un- apologetically,
absolutely, completely,
foundationally, right most of the time.
She was basically,
categorically, mathematically,
able to tell time because her cuckoo clock chimed.
Hypothetically, analytically,
metaphorically, she understood the cuckoo clock
better than most.
Because scientifically,
comprehensively, she could shift-change
and enter the clock like a small wispy ghost.
Where do I begin?
How can I explain what tears at me within?
I’ll put myself to task
Attempt to answer the questions you ask
Then maybe, just maybe, you’ll know the score
And either open a window, or nail shut the door
I am a clock
The time the world forgot
Tiny gears spinning between my ears
Greased by hope
Interspersed with doubt
Interlaced with fears
I am a puzzle
A cannon without a muzzle
Pieces that do not fit
A challenge to the wit
Curiously strange
Categorically unarranged
Surreal, in touch and feel
Out of order across the border
Delighteningly frighteningly
Wutheringly heighteningly
It was I
I wrote that name in the sky
one
morning
I’ll awake from
this surreal nightmare
I hold my breath
I live in
fear
memory’s
flipside is a
hellish curse
I wish I could erase
dismiss the persecutions
cruel injustices
systematic
strikes
most
utterly liberating
it would so be to crush and
disintegrate persistent debilitating
memories in order to lead
a life craving to be
free
bad
things happen
every day
our experiences
shared and yet diverse
sometimes even the most tragic
in the grander scheme of things
we’re the same and
yet unique
we still choose
life
when we stop and think about it
categorically we fall into
an array of statistics
one day I hope to
choose not to
stagnate
there
in
an attic
I wait for life
to pick up where
it suddenly
left off
~
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on July 18, 2020 for contest DELIRIUM sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN - RANKED 5TH
Earlier version submitted on January 7, 2019 for contest 2019 POETRY MARATHON MILE 10 sponsored by MARK TONEY
Originally posted on March 28, 2018
Notes
Pitch not properly
Beat
Has no craft
Tempo
Has missed out
Counter point
Has lost its point
Harmony
Never took place at all
A gamut
Has abandoned its order
Rendition
Is not in tune with composition
Why is this? What is this?
Though
A lot of people
Do not say categorically
I say
In monotone
“That is life”
I am in search
Of melody
MISSED HER PERIOD
SO she called at dawn
By then I was around cloud nine in a certain lovely lawn
Her groans and tears were so loud to make me vacate sleep
When my eyes opened, From arm's length her emotions were so deep
So I asked, 'what are you doing here? It's late'
'I missed my period' she categorically did state
What? I fearfully asked
She said ' I couldn't menstruate
''I used to flow at least every day
But it's been week since my ink felt paper''
My eyes became flooded
Her emotions got her impregnated
I starved her of my contraceptive hands
Whiles I watched her in her idle state with my naked eyes
Now, She's missed her period.
She wanted to abort
But I said no to that future effort
So she was delivered of that beautiful baby
Invested me with an additional responsibility
My lexicon I ought to increase
For my words ought to be enough,
To satisfy both her and her baby.
Contradictions
Frosted eyes opaqued evanesence,
chilled bone soup luminescent.
Veracose veins, tight muscle tenses,
Awareness alert but unable to sense this.
Medical liquor uncured infection,
categorically diseased without no protection.
Split highway, wrong chose direction,
a blue suit ordered ludicrous inspection.
Decision based morality by some Politician,
static cling energized body friction.
Paranoid thinking thoughts of suspician,
Shhh... quiet and just listen...contradictions...
L o s t road l o n e l y highway
Tell me what you see
Fortune future avenue
B l i n d spots b l i n d l y
Transfixed d e s e r t e d road
No turn seems to be
Show a sign any sign
, Mile m a r k e r twenty-three
L o s t road D a m n e d highway
Answers needed please
Death Valley next exit
Categorically d i s e a s e d
Ungrateful r o a d tripped,
Avenue F u t u r e unfortunately
Now I s e e the spots
In D e a d s E n d circling
bmdavey@2005
I DON’T KNOW
So what’s wrong with saying “I don’t know”
When your poem is good, and feels just so?
A technical requirement to state categorically
What you have said, albeit metaphorically.
Like asking Einstein to place his e=mc2 formula
Neatly in the correct position on a page of algebra
Otherwise he will lose marks and gain only “C”
Or ordering Michaelangelo to sign properly
So that his paintings may be in a catalogue
And the gallery guide can give her monologue.
Or what if Curie was given a low academic gradation
For fooling around with radium and radiation?
Or Sir Humphrey Davy, remembered with odium
For accidentally stumbling on the discovery of Sodium:
Imagine his schoolteacher fillng out the report card -
“Davy is disorganized and needs to work hard”
So please allow poets to say that they do not know
The category into which they must go.
Yesterday I saw a man with no face
Today he is still yet the same
“Tomorrow”, he said, was his name
He told me of a place where time never moves
A place where the world can not find you
A better place to call home
Need only convince yourself it is not a tomb
You can imprison the body
You can safeguard the mind
But you can not protect the heart
From
Love beyond all means of comprehension
Convinces the soul to let go
Everything will be okay
They hurt me in ways no one will ever see
They twist me in ways no one should ever be
They pile on to bury me and never let me
Break
The orphan child God left at the day care
He’ll be back they say, he’ll be back
To drop another one off
Sift the mud away from the rocks
Arrange them categorically
One can almost see the empire
Desperate self destruction
Egocentricity
No one else deserves the right or the pleasure
Counting the ghosts in your mind
How many more today?
Such are better than the ones yet living
They will never leave you
They will never abandon you
They will always be here
They will never go away
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