All I know is that I know something,
though I agree, it ain't all that much.
But those like Socrates who say all that they know is nothing
seem to me to be completely out of touch.
Yesterday we had our vaccination,
Developed no hallucinations
And certainly no indications
Of symptoms, as per some perceptions
Feel good we had this vaccination
Giving us some protection,
Was over in a second, no hallucinations,
Or contra indications.
Arm was painful, no more or less, a revelation
2nd phase Pfeizer, need no persuasion
Indeed, a definite exuberant exhilaration,
So many hundreds in the queue, a true illumination.
My heart felt such intense satisfaction,
So many people in line for vaccination
Which is for ours and your protection
Have not a single reservation.
Have this much researched safe vaccination,
One must not tarry, pay great attention
3.5 million people that have died since Covid 19’s inception,
Weigh up the odds, one should have no objection!
Desert
hot, barren
venturing, trudging, exhausting
mirage, oasis, woodland, wilderness
ambling, exploring, relaxing
peaceful, cool
forest.
(Out of two types of Diamante poems, as per PS types of poems, this one is
Antonym Diamante)
June 6, 2020
Contest : Try A New Style-Something You have Never
Or Hardly Ever Tried
Sponsor : Caren Krutsinger
Five for Smokes
----------------------------------------
I needed five dollars for smokes.Yesterday.,
I had it.but still...Had smokes AND That five.
ended up being used. for something else.I myself
might SAY I'd pay for but then,. I wouldn't. pay.ME, though.,
I'm sure someone would., So...Sure,. SOMEone would (And
DID.) they know I'd gladly sell that again Today,?When I say
"Yes"., can you see I'm now still?" Needing smokes...
----------------------------------------
10/19/2018
I write. That is what I do day and night,
write write write but I like to do it outside the lines,
the curve and the shape and the pattern,
to go against the rules of all poetry!
I let my words fly like the birds above. Free and swirling.
All the twirling words in my head I send whirling . . .
Saying no to metaphors. And all devices that poetry is suppose to need!
I say NO NO and NO . . .
I need to be free to spin and fling my poems.
Here and there. Let them be what they want to be.
Not be chained to a form. To a Rule. To convention.
To not be restrained by meter or syllables or lineage.
Yes, to just be.
Joy is to twist, deform, reverse, go verse crazy and way too long
I will destroy what should be . . . into what I want it to be
_________________________
October 16, 2018
Poetry/Verse/Contra To The Strictness of Form
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1071-794-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Contra
sponsor, Jesse Rowe
Third Place
in the bathroom
That's wear it,
was
i
think or was:
it in the other sink
The kitchen sink
The other batheroom sink.
the sink that's so rink-a-dink and and pink and full of ink that I, can't drink, wink
wink Wait I know where it is...................hhmmmm......what was i looking for
10/06/2018
Is it my karma or fate,
I never lose my head
but lost my hair
(ha, what a waste!)
very early in life
when I was young,
and you know,
not quite complicate.
Now I am bald
so, I wear a toupee,
(oh, what a crap!)
Everyone is appalled!
I believe, I'll die unnoticed and unsung
after this's all said and done.
And now; (Guess What?)
New hair grows
from everywhere else...
...but head!
~CONTRA Poetry Contest by Jesse Rowe
CONTRA
When I say ‘Hi!’, She bids bye.
As I rush to welcome addressing 'Hello !'
Oh! No! She is busy to go.
I always wish to give, she won’t take.
Strong bond I make, she can easily break.
What’s left I can accept, she will judge and choose.
In any game she wins, I am sure to lose.
I am extravagant, she seems to be miser.
I wake up early morn, she is a late-riser.
She won’t listen when I am fluent to talk.
As I laugh loud she is grave getting shock.
As I feel compassion, she shows no mercy.
At last ended every controversy.
We decided to marry without delay.
Venue selected by her, invitees were my choice.
Date-time was fixed by her, I had no voice.
My wish! My whims! Didn’t reach on wedding day.
09/25/18
Edited on 05/18/20
Second Place
' STRAND NO. 760 ' Contest by Brian Strand
Spider love.
Smashing himself into the inner crook of my foul-smelling underarm.
The right one. Not the bad one.
Smelling my flesh. Sniffing around me.
licking me.
Smitten, eager for the dance of togetherness to rear its ugly head.
I gently extract him, and lavish him with a lover’s kiss.
He bites my lip. Hard!
A challenge.
We begin our mating dance.
Contra Love Written 9-24-2018
Poetry Contest: Contra Sponsor: Jesse Rowe
Losing my keys can be unsettling.
Not nearly as much as finding a human skull.
Waking up naked in church is a
reoccurring dream.
Pleasant is the day when a severed finger
is found in a jar of mayonnaise
Hidden is the fact
I lost my job at the funeral home.
For showing up on my day off.
I blush at the sight of adult diapers.
Whose keys are these?
9/21/18
I got up it was way past noon
Thought I’d go for a walk.
Then, it started to rain
I’m talking heavy rain
The rain that soaks you rain.
I saw my neighbour Mrs Pratt
She was out walking her little dog.
You’ve guessed, they were wet too
I’m talking really wet.
They were both dripping.
I said "hello" and she grunted a greeting
Not happy I thought, but it’s only rain.
Then a bus drove by and hit a big puddle,
And then Mrs Pratt screamed as the puddle
engulfed her.
Strange I thought, she is already wet.
But then I realised why she had screamed
the poor little dog was not moving.
I went to the pub and the barman said
“You look wet”
“Do I” I replied, " I just saw a dead dog".
Written on 21st of September
For contra poetry contest sponsored by Jesse Rowe.
Curiosity, you’re a sharp knife
You cut to probe deep, to see inside
The privacy,
The ego makes
Hidden behind the mask
People wear, … alluringly captivating :
The Sea of Mystery, with the rolling waves of
Undefined charm, does it break
Return to the sea? The uncovered sands
Dislodged have no place to hide.
September 21, 2018
I stepped in a puddle
of mud. It was in a rut in
the road.
It splashed on my pant leg and
I couldn't clean it up up by hand.
I was angry. I wasn't too much hurt.
Today. I came back. The sun had been
shining and now it is just dirt.
Stain on the coffee table.
Where did you come from?
Your brown halo. From overflowing
cup? Maybe clumsy stumble.
I don't remember seeing you
yesterday in this place. Since I
don't drink coffee
you're probably a tea stain
that I need to clean again.
they shake, rattle and roll,
calcium balls not for my soul,
every time they move,
it's not my groove,
I warn them to stop
and quit doing the hop,
the doc threatens to laser,
a form of using a teaser
I've got the kidney stone blues
in the middle of the night,
they wake me up with a fright
as they roar and rumble
within my kidney while they stumble,
shuckin and jiving to a beat,
twisting and turning with defeat,
the ache lasts and ain't no fun,
grabbing a pain pill on the run
I've got the kidney stone blues
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