Frequent surfacing in night club
And the Lion sprouts from a cub
Soon, you cease to be submissive:
Life begins to be permissive.
With others you may shoulders rub
Sometimes, sincere courtesies snub.
A used-to-be-meek aggressive,
At inconstancy progressive....
In night clubs be sure of hubbub,
The filthiest thoughts served perfumed dub
Yet, life here should be extensive;
Clubs heal could The Hypertensive:
Others are asleep you are awake
And, for the fun of it, sometimes rake.
I posted a piece that 1943 characters to long for here.
So, it's under short stories it's called: "New Year's and strip clubs"
Here's a partial URL - you can't post a URL here (there are so many rules)
www.poetrysoup.com/short_stories/new_years_and_strip_clubs_11895
The grass
alas
is shorn
like corn
the dew
eschews
forlorn
this morn
the crowd
avowed
the ball
and all
then groans
and moans
clubs thrown
are known.
Embued
and hued
the words
like swords
wrong swing
the sting
bad lie
too high
the squeeze
on knees
in pleas?
to seize
the gold
and hold
glory
story
though droll
their goal
control
cajole
that ball
to fall
or roll
in hole
August 22,2022
For Brian Strand's Premiere Choice Contest
FIRST PLACE TROPhy!
POEM OF THE WEEK!
The ten of clubs,
The card of snubs.
And always passed on by.
For if you care,
To see it there,
You groan a little sigh
The value place,
But not the face,
Of kings and queens and jacks.
Yet still outranked,
And not as thanked,
Just slipping through the cracks.
A diamond shines.
The heart confines,
A game upon it’s own.
The pointed spade,
Much like a blade,
Is feared when it is thrown.
But not the club,
A rounded stub.
A suit not as reviled.
The ten of which,
Has carved the niche,
Of cards, the middle child.
Burning Books
David J Walker
There is burning on
The next pages
The flame rages in words
Of fame and glowing embers
Ancient runes forgotten phrases
Members of book clubs
Meet in brewpubs
Tuesday afternoons
Reading single letters out loud
Before they disappear in
Perfectly clear air
Made of flames
The scribe did nothing
To hide the hidden meanings
Before setting them afire
Here at Yale University we’re encouraged to attend these campus “get togethers” - to meet other students and broaden our circles. Some are about interesting subjects like politics or science and sometimes you get to meet famous people.
Others are concerned with less interesting subjects - like the bewildering aspects of philosophy: “Would you kill baby Hitler if you had the chance - and if so - could you do it with a gun? Shoot a baby to stop world war two? What if you didn’t HAVE a gun, could you find it in yourself to use your bare hands?”
“Well,” I say, giving it some serious consideration - just to show that I’m as philosophical as the next girl - “if I had BEAR hands, couldn’t I claw him to death?”
I left the car and on the ground
I was surprised at what I found:
A playing card, with folded crease
And possibly, some tire grease.
The Queen of Clubs was lying there;
The other cards were who knows where.
Did it slip out from in its deck?
There really was no way to check.
Or was it placed with some intent?
If so, I wonder what it meant.
I'll never know, for soon we left,
The Queen of Clubs still there, bereft.
Somewhere somebody's hopes will crush
When he can't make a royal flush.
Clubs.
Diamonds
Hearts.
Spades
Some are red,
Some are black,
Some are high,
Some are low.
If you are a bridge player,
you know that some suits are better than others.
My family of origin used to play bridge with a
plastic cheater kind of card table cloth
you could tie around the table, that told us
how to play bridge step by step.
We must have relied on it a bit too much,
because eight years later, when that
tablecloth got messed up,
We could no longer play bridge
The best part of playing cards
is the yelling, screaming, and sheer
excitement when you get the Old Maid
or a Royal Flush or A Full House.
Or I throw the table over, because
I am losing.
My own children will not play
any board games or card games
with me in the room.
I have taught many of my school children to
play cards.
It keeps them from doing things they
make up themselves,
and they love it when I throw the table!
Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, and Spades
for everyone please.
What might have brightened sober days
Is now a poison clearly seen
Within the labyrinthine ways
Of hearts and their fugacious queen.
The king of clubs once owned my dreams
And all the diamonds in the crown,
But then long years and clever schemes
Paid back the debt which trod me down.
I did once play a game of spades
Which brought me quick and short relief,
Though I knew well that he who wades
Through life is but a drowning thief.
And now, that all the deck is stacked
Against the joy of yesterdays,
The bridge to knavery is wracked
And youth is trumped inside a maze.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
( HEART OF CLUBS )
The stress is tipping in and out of my mind.
I'm starting to realize my life is
just a waste of time.
The only thing that's keeping me stable
is the fact that your not unstable.
Try and tell me what's next
I'm just trying to relive my stress.
Tell me what to do
because baby I can't stop falling for you....
( For the ones need love )
We were trying to play spades
but I only had twelve cards
oh where, oh where is the
four of clubs?
lying next to a bush outside,
just as I thought
“My, my, you are perceptive”
It’s my job
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