Gentleman
thoughtful honest
funny encouraging decent
sensible practical plausible durable
unequivocal noble polemic
principled studious
Champion
Delightful Diamante Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
01/15/23
Labyrinthia P. Babineaux …………… The White Witch of the Lower 9th Ward
Papa Babineaux …………………………… The Father, an honest apothecary
Algebra Babineaux ……………………… The even-tempered Mother
Bumblebee Babineaux ………………… The precocious younger Sister
Gnat Babineaux …………………………… The curious little Brother
Cabernet Babineaux …………………… The distant Cousin
Ulysses “Zully” Kowolski ……………… The world-weary Sailorman
Nikita Something ………………………… The learned Creole Seer
Mitchell Hollywood ………………………. The adulterous Inn Keeper
Tom Sickley …………………………………… The disingenuous Feather Merchant
Fr. Marcus Paternoster ……………...... The lecherous Clergyman
Steve Merkin ………………………………… The unscrupulous Accountant
Vince Fettish ………………………………… The nefarious Fantasy Man
Xerxes the Great …………………………… The Emperor of Persia and Media
Dante Foolhardy …………………………... The Stultifying Court Jester
John Travailleur, Esq. …………………… Just another John
Plus … townspeople, pirates, Indians, street musicians and beggars, Cajuns, swamp rats, women, young ladies, and girls.
THE MATRIARCHAL LOVE PROTEST
On such a time as this,
When the faithful air
In the cupid enclave
Becomes vulnerable
To the fouling presence
Of the all intrusive diffusion
Of the strange breath of the foreign god;
When the dreaded local deities
Could no longer curb the patriarchal excesses
Of the men;
When the regulatory safeguard
Of patriarchy is wantonly let loosed,
The big masquerade, who hitherto had been in her full elements of shamefacedness, leaves the background,
To claim her territory in forewarning
To the accompanying goddesses
In the temple of the visiting cupid god of Valentine.
Chris E. Agbiti, Esq.
PLEA BARGAIN
If justice can be carted away on a platter of gold
And repaid with a moribund emerald,
Then let Law swallow its loquacious pride—
Let the rays of the sun drop its shines
Let the glitters of the moon hands down
And let the twinkles of the stars un-twinkle its prickles.
At the marketplace of ignominy
Law traded its most valuable destiny—
A penny paid in exchange for quashing mutiny
A hominy given in exchange for shrinking felony
A litany offered in erasure of criminal sanctimony
Mutiny for a penny
Felony for a hominy
Sanctimony for a litany
Justice is the end, the fabrics and destiny of Law
If criminality can be bargained to legality—
A poplar will soon turn an undergrowth
A mountain will soon turn a rock
An ocean will soon turn a river
A tree will soon turn a stalk
An imago to a pupa
A pupa to a larva
A larva to an egg
An egg to an atom
And what is left of Law is a shadow of its true self.
Mutiny for a penny
Felony for a hominy
Sanctimony for a litany
--Bolaji Ramos,Esq.
LAW IS A COMIC RELIEF
Law is a comic relief
Subtlety amidst ardent belief.
Draconian legislation
That still wriggles out an exception.
Pitiless killer
Yet cleverest healer.
Law is a comic relief
Deus ex machina to its own mischief.
Creator of extreme offences
That yet allows supreme defences.
Coercive jailer for life
That still gives freedom for a good strife.
If...
Insanity may be antidote for committing homicide
And intoxication could be a nostrum for patricide
And provocation may be a corrective for matricide
And necessity is a curative for avunculicide
And self-defence is a rectifier for uxoricide
And automatism is a shield for regicide
And necessity is a panacea for sororicide
And fair comment is a cure for famacide
Then Law is just nothing but a comic relief.
--Bolaji Ramos, Esq.
Copyright 2017
In the dead of night,
I heard the cry of agony;
A shrill cry it was,
But a faint cry,
As of a heart fainting of strength.
It oozed out in a steady stream
Of soul-rending shrill
As of unending wail and groan
From a house lately frequented by the grim reaper.
"Owailo", mother had muttered in education,
Was wallowing in travail!
Her own slice of cross
she must bear,
Of the divine curse
Of travail appointed
To all eves.
Owailo travails unto death!
The divine malediction of travail
Becomes for Owailo,
The inevitable appointment with death
For her offspring she must never behold
Even as the offspring lives.
Oh hapless Owailo!
The ill-fated reptile of the shrubbery,
Who else has beheld your fate
To plead your cause before the Law Giver
Before whom mercy and grace abound?
THOUGHT OUT BY
CHRIS EDACHE AGBITI, ESQ
Hoot E. Owl Esq.
By
Tom Wright
A scholarly old owl in the tree sat high,
Calling out to all, is any wiser than I?
He’d read his book,
From his overlook,
Whoo whoo ha hoo, was his erie cry.
What should I do?
Suffering and Living
Mighty God
Works Workshops; So sent
Genuine authority
I dream; to be still
To live foremostly again
Supreme techniques; oh, mighty god.
The grass is green on the field today.
Another baseball season is under way.
“Play ball” is what the umpires will say.
We all cheer for “THE” team of our choice.
It is a favorite “GAME” throughout the nation.
The stands are composed “OF " many a resounding voice.
We give our “BASEBALL” heroes a standing ovation.
The month of April “IS” the beginning of the season.
Spring training games were “PLAYED” before the start.
The teams are banking “ON " going all the way.
To make it through “A” long season, you’ve got to have heart.
Players, lets take the “FIELD” and play ball today.
I gave this poem nine lines to signify the nine innings in a typical baseball game.
Robert Pettit for the “Middle of the Road” contest
Sponsored by H Garvey Daniel Esq.
I don't like violent poetry,
It's just not the style for me.
Usually I don't finish reading it
So a comment , the writer won't see.
I've had my share of angry thoughts
So I know what they're getting at
But angry words leave me speechless
So I just leave it at that.
If a poem to me seems like venting
I just move on to something new
But I understand it's cathartic,
Expressing their point of view.
I try to limit my comments
To the ones that I truly enjoy.
So if I don't really like it
I'd rather ignore it, than annoy.
for HGarvey Daniel Esq. contest: Comments verses View
Here lies Sir Sidney C. Hall
Bald as a baby caused he mowed it
Knighted by the asylum matron, “The Mad Poet”
Considered by many as being funny
To the ladies his lyrics were milk and honey
Here lies Sir Sidney C. Hall
Loved by women for been well hung, not small
And as this may sound profound
By weight of them he was buried at a 45 degree angle in the ground