From Des Moines to Kansas City wind tunnel sideways
sixty-two miles per hour in a straight line always
a fierce super tornado that roars down Interstate thirty-five
throwing farms up in the air, livestock no longer alive
a quintessential tornado, dreaded and rare, a derecho
there truly was no way to hide, no places to shelter or go
a memory of terror that would last three states forever
many torn up families returning to home, never
a deadly derecho is what many do not survive
a terrifying experience up Interstate thirty-five
affecting Missouri, Kansas, and Iowa that day
the horrors of that creature forever here to stay
TONIGHT WE LOSE SLEEP
AHEAD AN HOUR WE WILL LEAP
LESS TIME, COUNTING SHEEP
When setting out to write this verse
I came under the abominable 'ho-hum' curse
of the unfathomable dreaded writer's block
as the muse of opportunity refused to knock
completely void the brain pulled a blank
running on fumes with an empty tank
and of inspiration there was none
in the hot seat I was under the gun
in my mind's eye and at my fingertips
strange to say words could not pass my lips
altho' I can go one better I know
a short poem from me today would be... 'Po'
With the minting of the Lincoln Penny coming to its sorrowful end,
It'll now cost you a 'Nickle For Your Thoughts', my miserly friend!
Or consider the phrase 'That's My Two Cents For What It's Worth', old chum;
It'll now cost you two nickles or a dime - that's the new rule of thumb!
Alas, no more penny candy for the little tykes - forget the penny arcade;
These are just a few things that'll vex us since pennies are no longer made!
I reckon they'll have to mint more nickles to accommodate this feckless nation!
Oft', I ponder how Honest Abe would feel about 'his loss of face' and inflation!
A shadow walks where silence bends,
With whispering ghosts that call as friends.
The mirror lies with fractured grace,
A thousand eyes behind one face.
He hums a song that no one hears,
Drowning doubt in static fears.
Clocks melt slow, then race ahead—
Each second stitched with ancient dread.
A prophet’s tongue in twisted speech,
Reaches truths we cannot reach.
Reality’s thread, too thin to bind,
Unravels slow inside his mind.
What cage could hold a world so wide?
What map could chart the rift inside?
The crowd recoils, they do not see
The cost of fractured clarity.
He laughs. He weeps. He disappears.
And dreams alone for all our fears.
There was a gentle tiger named Dreaded
He met a donkey who was hardheaded
That donkey just wasn’t afraid
Refusing to run, he stayed
Dreaded roared loud, “you’re just too pigheaded”!
I see the closet door and I hear the theme song to Shark.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
The one they used to play on Saturday Night Live in the eighties.
You know the one.
I opened it once to take a photo.
Which I sent to my twin sister.
We were bemoaning our messy spots.
So we decided to have a little contest.
I took photos of this closet, and six hoarder piles in one bedroom.
Believe it or not, she sent me eight photos and hers were better.
Or worse depending on which way you are going competition wise.
Thanks Daddy, we both said. He loved keeping everything.
Whereas Mom was a minimalist. She had a rule.
Bring one new thing in, toss one old thing out.
She had no messes anywhere in the house
Except Daddy’s area. She could not control that.
Maybe it’s Mom’s fault, I think to myself.
She is the one that never let us have a mess.
Maybe we are still rebelling.
Anyway, I cannot face this closet yet.
This is the third year in a row it has been un-faceable
It would be nice to use a closet, just not this one.
I turn and take another peek. Is it still there?
Unfortunately yes. Who knows what lives inside.
That morning I woke, just a normal day,
Shower running warm,
Ready for a new day.
Early morning team catch up, tills prepared,
Door unlocked, and they enter with their glares,
In they come, one by one.
The usual faces great me,
The daily moans and groans.
Lunchtime is here, and peace descends,
The ever flowing footfall of people is coming to an end.
Then in you enter, strong and tall,
Your at my desk, just before I fall.
A gun you hold, right at my head,
Terror takes over, I think I am dead.
You look at me with a darkened stare,
Your words so clear, yet full of fear,
You took the money and ran away,
You ruined my life on that day.
The years you took, I simply cannot forgive,
The person I became, I reverted to being a kid.
You broke me, I crumbled,
You made me feel like I was dead,
You changed my life forever and are forever in my head.
It is absurd and sad.
From the village stores to the shores.
An eruption of corruption.
Where is the corrupt? Who is corrupt?
When have normalized the anomalies.
For you to get one must also get.
The lesser you give the lesser you get.
I won't concur until we conquer.
?@Tha Formidable Cheru.
#themonk.
When I was younger a doctor’s visit was scary
It could mean a shot; that dreaded dreaded shot.
I remember being chased around the room
Screaming and wailing in agony before I had one
I think was about six.
By the time they caught me and held me down
I was sobbing in such a way my whole psyche screamed
The shot was nothing compared to what I had done prior to it.
Together since our teens
So many decades together
Keeper of each other’s hearts
Through calm and stormy weather
We have conquered this life together
And all that came our way
Through all life’s up and downs
By each other’s side we stayed
Now in our senior years
No longer working for the man
Life is at its ultimate
True freedom has just began
As an older person
I view life more preciously
For the first time ever
I’m aware of longevity
Still so in love
Blessed and happy with my family
Yet now I get fleeting moments of dread
As a sense of fear randomly visits me
I’m fearful as time goes by
With impending years
This life and those I love so much
Will change and slowly disappear
It’s not a constant thought
Just a few minutes of awful dread
Usually in the dark of night
It rears it’s ugly head
It isn’t a fear of dying
Just a fear of inevitable change
I want this wonderful life I have
To always stay the same
My life appreciation has grown with age
Accompanied by inner peace
I only wish that fearful thought
Would leave my mind and cease!
He sits and scratches
With endless scratching
They cover him in patches
Hope they aren’t catching
He struggles with them
Longing to destroy their eggs
They darken and condemn
Creeping and crawling with long legs
He dreads this affliction
Which comes to him often
Yearning for their eviction
His heart would surely soften
He is the dog of my dreams
Yet he begs and he pleads
For relief from the regimes
Fleas he sometimes feeds
He is weakened by their angry pursuit
They chase him round and round
The struggle is so very acute
Until a cure is finally found
He is the best friend I’ve ever had
When the dreaded fleas leave
There is such joy – he’s so glad
For these insects, he will not grieve
If you happen upon my sweet dog
Scratch his ear and let him know
His heart won’t be in such a fog
Without this angry, dreaded foe
Insects Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Angela Tune
January 15, 2022
D-readed
A-ilment's
V-iral
I-nfection
D-oes
H-ide
A-s
R-abid
R-isk
I-s
S-topped
Topic: Birthday of poet David Harris (June 18)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
J-ust
U-se
N-ew
N-ormal
A-nd
L-ockdown
A-s
B-acteria
A-llows
S-pread
T-o
I-mplement
D-readed
A-ttack
Topic: Birthday of Junna Labastida (June 16)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
N-eatness
O-bliterates
R-abid
M-orbidity
A-nd
A-trocious
R-isk's
M-ystery
A-bating
D-readed
A-ilment
Topic: Birthday of Norma Armada (June 16)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Sub Categories
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