Better suited for waste
than for news
Wise folk tear them up
~ these crepe paper views
salty crescent nuts
bride and groom on wedding cake
purple and green mints
crepe paper streamers
super romantic first dance
silver disco ball
branson honeymoon
tin cans tied to Chevrolet
happy beginnings
decorating for a birthday bash
crepe paper gave Stevie a rash
guests brought granny M a little cash
chocolate cake with ice cream a big smash
details a bit of a confused mis mash
gobbled down my cake then gave a dash
Safe within these four walls
My new apartment is swell
But, what's that noise next door?
Is that my neighbors doorbell?
I'm attracting nosey eyes
When company comes over
We have to speak in whispers
Or wake up their dog "Grover"
Neighborhood ears await
Even when I take a "Whiz!"
Crepe Paper Apartments
Everyone knows your "Biz!"
I stand and stare at the empty branches,
stripped now of all the regalia of Christmas,
naked and sadly alone in my gaze
like the gray day beyond every window.
All the celebrations have been swept to yesterday
like prom decor, bridal rose petals and
melted birthday candles.
The quiet haunts every New Year's day -
no more parties to smother apprehensions,
just sober reality, but, unlike crepe paper
embellishments, aisle runners and cake crumbs,
the tree trimmings will await an encore in
eleven months once more - one more time
one more time ...
Our Garden
In my mind’s eye,
I see you still,
Standing still in our garden,
Motionless,
Deep in thought.
So what were you thinking?
The seeds we planted together,
Grew strong,
We tended them,
Fed and watered them,
Gave them shelter and support.
We watched anxiously.
Now they are strong, gloriously confident,
They no longer need our tender loving care.
The scarlet poppies, petals as fragile as crepe paper,
Grow miraculously strong on delicate stems.
The marigolds, like a cluster of brilliant suns,
Know their power.
The trailing lobelias explore exuberantly
And will not be contained.
The seed of our love we also planted together,
Tended with the same loving care and understanding,
And at first a willingness to forgive.
But in time, as it grew, it too needed protection,
From sudden tempests, sudden frosts,
And tears that felt like rain.
Desperately we provided support and protection,
But it was never enough.
The seed which at first had grown so joyfully,
Now withered
And died.
amber skies announce autumn
black bats and black cats
costumes line the sidewalks
Dracula climbs out of his crypt
elves, faeries and brownies dance the streets
Freaks are getting on their freak
Ghostly ghouls and goblins chase princesses
Halloween parade is in rare gear
Ideal night for trick-or-treat
Jack-o-lanterns proudly sit
Knives focus in on the pretty ones at hand
Leave some candy for me! Says my aunt Fran
Monsters appear out of the October mist
Noisy neighbors watch from inside their house
Orange and black crepe paper in store windows
Pumpkin pie with whipped cream is in my frig
***** creatures zigzag in and out of walkers
rambunctious teenagers scare the little ones
spidery webs are dangling from many porches
trick-or-treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!
Under the bridge scary ghost stories are being told
Vim and vigor oozes out of every Captain America five-year-old
Witches cackle as their green faces wander the streets
‘xtravagant costumes try to one-up the rest of us
Yellow-eyed cats miss nothing
zinging in and out are goblins carrying large sacks
Tinkling sounds of rain falling on shingled roofs
wild winds and chestnut horses galloping with hooves
Spruce trees breathing in the navy sky of June
Shimmering stars of heavenly bliss scintillating view
Rivers gurgling aside the brook as dusk arrives
A solitary lotus floating on the waters of China
Japanese lanterns and crepe paper magic
Night songs of longing and bravelings that cry
May I invite you for a walk across my wish bridge
together we can find the syncronocity of life.
Sea of such violent ideas,
why did you create the storms
and the winds... why are you shipwrecked
my time to navigate you...?
Why did you rip me from your
primitive womb?
oh wind, scornful of papers
and sticks... how could you expel
my crepe paper dreams by
pure snort display...?
How dare you breathe my joy
away from the eyes that
followed me...?
Earth, filthy planet
why did you deny the vulture
the glorious mission of
consume me... why did you transform
my meat in seeds
weed...?
Oh world, sinister world
mondo cane... why
you broke my rods
with your sinister claws...?
Oh life how did you make up
with these deleterious to
hurt me... why
you took away my lovers
favorites, to offer
to your favorite proselytes...
But infected...!?
revolted i verse me
against everyone and everything...
Against these damned
that made me come
of a poisoned pleasure...
Wanted platonic love, but you
gave me slice
of love...
remnants of leftovers...!
Sometimes interviews are fair
but other times its all against you
I always feel at a real disadvantage
my stammer tenses me down the queue
Years ago went for a job
with a chemist company close to home
for first time it was group interview
this tensed me greatly felt no shalom
Firstly put in circle to share
your experience of past idea
I push seat back cause of fear
that was a fault not being near
Then asked to make up uniform
in groups together learn to speak
use string, tape, and crepe paper
what nonsense, wasn't my week!
The Christmas trees reminds me so
Of Christmases from long ago
Gazing up at the tree so tall
When I were a young girl so small.
Back in the day, when things were tight
For us no pretty sparkling lights
Little candles lit up the tree
Flickering away merrily.
The fairy placed on top, up high
Was joy for my sisters and I
Just a paper dolly was she
Prettiest thing upon the tree.
Made with crepe paper was her dress
Which on and off we'd oft' times fetch
By the time us three girls were through
An awful mess she would look too.
A peek in the crackers we’d sneak
Those on the tree placed nice and neat
Not nearly so neat was the tree
Devoured by the terrible three.
Pretty baubles hung on the tree
Pity they broke so easily
Their usage could have been prolonged
If three rascals hadn’t come along.
So many times the tree was found
Tumbled down when we'd been around
Before mum saw the disarray
The dreadful three had run away.
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who pledges loyalty
to put Bahama land from the time
she was conceived out of the womb
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who sheds the blood
of gold, black and aquamarine
straight from her veins
as she wakes up each morning
to the pulsing beat of Goombay drums
and cowbell singing in her ears
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who is a true cultural icon
always clothed in either Androsia Print
a costume of cardboard and crepe paper
or gold, black and aquamarine attire
from head to toe
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who is a pure nationalist
who always remember where her navel string was buried
in her place of birth and tropical sanctuary
regardless of where she travels in the world
whether it be in Miami, Cuba, Japan or Vancouver
4th of July
Carnival magic
On the town “square”
Parade for the kids
Crepe paper bike spokes
Goats dyed pink by my Aunt Marjorie
Small town America
Fresh corn on the cob
Oozing with butter
Red and white checked plastic tablecloths
Blowing off picnic tables.
Cold watermelon slices
Pink cotton candy and warm funnel cakes
Joyful screams from carnival rides
Docile ponies for the three-year-olds
High school band
Concert in Gazebo
Sweat running down their backs
Children exhausted
Falling asleep on blankets
As the firemen set off fireworks at the park
Everyone leaves smiling
Perfect 4th of July
Just like last year
The Grave
Written: by Tom Wright
4/23/99
One crepe paper fashioned,
crimson flower,
someone has brought today.
Faded, from another year or earlier shower
that fell this morning in May.
In need of soil I thought,
is there no one left to weed this plot,
has family ceased to care?
Perhaps no one remains to tend this spot
where now I stand and stare.
Near the weathered sandstone marker
a fresh cut flower.
Set strategically in It's place,
seemingly within the hour,
standing alone in a milk bud vase.
What does this story tell?
Perhaps one flower growing in It's bed
was all they had at home.
Now gently placed at this persons head
thinking neither might be alone.
Motionless, I stand thinking.
To the dead, these flowers we are giving
when we place them here this way.
I'm wondering, were flowers given while living,
or was it put off until today?
my Valentine's rose
is made from red crepe paper
true love forever
Haiku I love U 2 Contest
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Snr
2/26/19
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