Night,
Ageless and porous,
Sang screeches of fireflies of
Crescendo-diminuendo sparks.
What hour?
In the midst of the hustles, I lost my hoursight
Different, tonight, is my eyesight, seeing even
Through the darkest foliage of gentle, but sinister
Caress sway.
On the broken, cracked slabs, squatting, dark torsos!
Pensive, broken, sad, old and so good the
Work of Italian sculptors.
Further deep in searching glare, the hardened
Mats of hurried sepultures of returning
Soldiers, whose wellingtons have squelched in
Mudblood.
Wars and battles never post blandishments
On peace.
What hour now, brother?
It is so dark and mean, and my hourglass refuses a
Moon reflection.
But now the hours move fast on march of the
Headless feet in wellingtons.
'Left, right, left, right....'
Dolts hasten among fleeing marabouts.
Stench from ailing, balmed smog
Stills the whiffs of roasting deer, all in
One silence of close hour canticles...
Such phalanx, brother, coldens the head.
No longer a teacher
a programmer ...
your gift to persuade
is gone
Referring to students
as charges and dolts
your power to control
is strong
To dictate
humanity
you must give up your own
controlled to then control
Blind to the moment
deaf to the past
defaming your nature
— killing your soul
(Dreamsleep: October, 2024)
Sinister were the clouds that emptied their kettles
I lowered my umbrella and gave a defiant stare
Raindrops stung my face like needle sharp nettles
Daringly, I squared my shoulders, letting anger flare
Lightning flashed in jagged shards, trying to scare me
Thunder bellowed loudly; his blatant echoes roared
I stood my ground, straight and tall as a Sequoia tree
bracing myself against the wind as the deluge poured
Behind an opaque black veil, stars remained hidden
shrouded as they were on another foul-weather night
Memories claimed me as they hastened, unbidden
to sear my broken heart again. I felt the flames ignite
Thunder no longer rumbled. No more lightning bolts
I wanted to believe that I'd tamed the vicious storm
but ferocious winds howled, "Humans are such dolts!"
Nature let me know that it was I who had to conform
I trudged on with an attitude of contemptuous disdain
Bitter at the blustery weather, howling like a banshee
I faced the night head-on, fighting the torrent of pain
Once again, I broke free in a courageous act of apogee
January 1, 2022 ~
Mother rams with baby lambs
for greener grass are hunting.
Mama cows spy mama sows
with piglets softly grunting.
Creature ma’ams are joined by dams
whose baby colts start snorting!
Calves and colts and pigs like dolts
in meadows are cavorting.
March 10, 2021
for Eve Roper's Nursery Rhyme Poetry Contest
(I learned a new word doing this, which kids might enjoy learning:
dams are female horses!)
From Wikipedia:
The word (dam) can also be used for other female equine animals, particularly mules and zebras . . . A horse's female parent is known as its dam. An uncastrated adult male horse is called a stallion and a castrated male is a gelding.
dot to dot, the game dolts play,
ignoring the big picture.
it’s obvious.
blind man’s bluff.
the screen revelation,
at the late hour —
THE dragon
1/23/2021
before barristers
bone-busting brouhahas broached
barbaric bedlam
comely charwomen
cringed contemplating cruel
commonplace cudgelings
dank dungeons deterred
disorderly drunken dolts
dissuading dissent
(Alliteration)
07/25/2020
Let the Pens Flow - Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jenish Somadas
Ok, you humans down there, making wishes on us stars
with “Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”
Who the heck do you people think you are?
Why are you writing poems all the time like “Star Light, Star Bright”?
Of COURSE, we’re bright and a heck of a lot brighter than YOU.
Is sitting around making wishes all you can do?
Even waiting around to see which one of us will fall? The gall!
Good grief, you’d think to see a shooting star is the greatest thing of all!
Where did you come up with “count your lucky stars,” you dimwits?
You would die a billion deaths before you finished counting my friends and me.
I get laughs hearing your gaffes, but other than that, MY life is the pits!
I wish for YOU to make ME into a MOVIE star. I’d be a diva for an eternity!
Then I could really live it up in style, like you glitzy dolts down below.
Yeah, and keep “reaching for the stars.” Let’s see how THAT goes.
July 1, 2020 for Nina Parmenter's You Are A Star Poetry Contest
Ballot dolts
who got a gun love for the vote,
lift the sidearm
and affirm
their right to fire a bullet nope
Pulling the trigger lever
with lightning speed,
they choose to cast
bolts of volt impurity
Spirit children of Frankenstein orthodoxy,
whose parents gave democratic birth
to a Hitler monstrosity
by voting mad scientist crazy
Feel the midnight storm clouds
gather in the Alabama sky ...
see the lightning bolts raining down
Voting Moore abomination on a stainless steel slab
Roy ain’t Rogers
is rising up once again, ready to senate killer ride
Vigilante haters of diversity
are forming their ballot dolt posse
Riding high on their metal winged horsey,
firing Pegasus jolts of volt impurity
And the tweet thunderbolts are
telling the citizens to once again vote crazy
When the smoke clears, what will we see —
Another evil revival of
the worst part of America’s proud history?
If so,
this vomit voter sickening
means the nation’s white lightning future
will be further blackening
It is really much better you see
If you don't touch this red wire at all
You will light up like a Christmas tree
And smoke like a leaf pile in the Fall
We are moving some really big volts
That will kill you as dead as a stone
We know that the world is full of dolts
Please, please, please...leave that red wire alone
10/14/2016
For contest Warning
Now I am sitting alone in this
Funny wagon with my boom box
and minding my own business
along with a bunch of numskulls
who thinks I am a nutcase like them—
What a drag! And they think we are
all going to a Funny Farm where
they take those who go bananas!
But I know better because
I am good and dandy--
One hell of a cockscomb dude!
All I am doing is
bamboozling them for now,
Behaving as if I am one of them—
These dolts, dim-witted blockheads!
But, YOU, who’s reading this,
can vouch for me, won’t ya?
Why? Because you are as cool as I am,
It takes one to know one!
You catching my drift, ain’t ya?
~07/16/15
~"Colloquialism" contest by Laura Leiser
If there's frost on your noodle, don't despair
It's a sign of genius if you've got grey hair
But the experts say when the colour takes flight
Intelligence doesn't just happen overnight
It takes years and years of bumps and grinds
So make sure you don't get left behind
To survive in this crazy and wacky old world
Ya gotta be ready for whatever gets hurled
Grey hair says intelligence between the ears
Achieving great wisdom throughout the years
A scholarly person you've turned out to be
Now if only your kiddies could also see
That parents are not just a couple of dolts
May even be smarter than a lot of young colts
Who may know computers and all that stuff
That's not all there is, it's not quite enough
To be able to deal with the challenges of life
One needs the smarts to deal with strife
For everyday problems that are bound to arise
Facing head on life's every surprise
Don't be embarrassed by frost on you noodle
You've got the whole kit and caboodle
Acquiring great knowledge throughout the years
With loads of laughter and many tears
© Jack Ellison 2014
If there's frost on your noodle, don't despair
It's a sign of genius if you've got grey hair
But the experts say when the colour takes flight
Intelligence doesn't just happen overnight
It takes years and years of bumps and grinds
So make sure you don't get left behind
To survive in this crazy and wacky old world
Ya gotta be ready for whatever gets hurled
Grey hair says intelligence between the ears
Achieving great wisdom throughout the years
A scholarly person you've turned out to be
Now if only your kiddies could also see
That parents are not just a couple dolts
May even be smarter than a lot of young colts
Who may know computers and all that stuff
That's not all there is, it's not quite enough
To be able to deal with the challenges of life
One needs the smarts to deal with strife
For everyday problems that are bound to arise
Facing head on life's every surprise
Don't be embarrassed by frost on you noodle
You've got the whole kit and caboodle
Acquiring great knowledge throughout the years
With loads of laughter and many tears
©Jack Ellison 2012
Their mangled and broken bodies
return home in flag draped caskets.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
while a band plays patriotic
hymns for their services rendered
and a choir to give them a voice.
If I may be so bold to say
that I see no sweetness in death
nor the acclaimed gloriousness
that lyrical poets have penned.
what I see is sugarcoated
rationale for warmongering
dolts. I see no glory in that.
Mortem est pretium bellum.
I am woman …
WOMAN
Of Congo,
Chewed,
Spat out,
And bestowed with straw basket
To fetch water.
You set upon us
Wild dogs,
Stretching our legs wide,
Ripping out our genitals and dignity
To nurse your children’s
Craving.
‘fore you design gods;
Ones who create dolts,
Small-minded folks,
And feast on minerals –
Congo was a lady
And I … I am
WOMAN,
Strong black woman.
I bought some views
On black market;
They are rare commodities,
Sat down with glass of nsamba
on the rocks
And seriously contemplate …
It is hard to buy
Black market stuff;
We are set up
To think
East is inferior to west,
Barring them Europeans
Who broke their necks
To dwell in Canaan.
One thing is for sure,
They alleged a better name
And substitute
The ones we were given;
Those with implications.
Oh, what things we see
When we start looking
From our own eyes.
I am WOMAN …
Woman alone
And taken against my desire,
Ravished by the corporations;
The gods who create your children
I am WOMAN,
Woman from Congo.
Building a House on Sand
By Elton Camp
Alabama has some frontage on the Gulf Coast
Where the risk of storm damage is the most
People with money will build right on the beach
Instead of where a hurricane isn’t likely to reach
Then for all of us, house insurance rates will rise
Because they have acted so foolishly unwise
We live way up north, a long way from the shore
But due to those dolts we are forced to pay more
I’d also enjoy having a beach and ocean front view
But don’t as it’s a totally irresponsible thing to do
On such construction there should be a total ban
Or else let insurance rates there rise as they can
Now, when a hurricane comes and blows them away
At our expense rebuild so it can happen another day
Life insurance to a skydiver might rightly be denied
To some houses, that same principle should be applied
Maybe for existing construction exception can be made
But building new houses on the sand should be forbade
A beach dweller reading this may scream and curse
I don’t care as I’m tired of your reaching into our purse
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