‘Intimate gathering’
advertised
Curiosity piqued...
poked my head in
~ cozy canoodling
__________________
'Ran it up the flagpole'
(to see if it would fly)
was an overused ploy
from the advertising
world of the 1950's
and 60's.
Staunch, spine straight as a flagpole
Chin tucked into neckfolds of flesh
Face itch, lips blubber incessantly...
Hips thrust forward... twin bulldozers
Life expectancy, a speck in a sandstorm
Rows of medals under gray sash, Iraq
Written: August 3rd, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Through the shallow depths of my soul,
I sail on a wild surface with no control.
Passengers of dreams, we set sail,
With the wind blowing through, we prevail.
In this journey, we navigate,
A lushness of views and emotions, subtle and innate
The wind sighs secrets and plays on the flagpole.
As we traverse the depths of our souls.
Such blossoms dancing in the breeze,
We wandered through the forest with ease.
Mountains rise, majestic and grand,
As we sail through this enchanted land.
Whispers of the surface guide our way.
Leading us to a brighter day.
The wind caresses our weary souls.
Blowing away the doubts that bear their toll
Through every twist and turn we forego,
Finding strength we didn't know
Passengers of our destiny,
Navigating with grace and unity
The forest whispers secrets profound,
As ancient wisdom, we have found.
The wind sings a melody so sweet,
Guiding us with a rhythm unique.
The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind. Albert Einstein
When whisperers are seen and colors are heard
The lullaby is green, and my nose is full of earwax
During quiet times, we look inside sans uttering a word
Dare to be quiet in the midst of the cacophony of backs
Rain or serenity cannot quell the throbbing soul
No attempt was made to clog the abyss with a rule
I've heard lulls and views, and tone is an ageless goal
In my mind, your idioms and visuals are chilly dews
As I rubbed my heart over yours, I felt pain in my views
Compassion was strong, whereas anger ruined hues
Striving to shine in solar flares, a suffering of a nerd
No words remain; odd jives sway if we talk cracks
Quiet screams while fear looms down the flagpole
Silence never stops shouting, delighting the muse
Written: March 31, 2023
1st place contest winner
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Quiet
Form: Fragmented rhyme
Writing Challenge - 'Q' Words - Poetry Contest
I wish I could run straight up a flagpole.
I would stand on the top, on one foot.
My other foot at a ninety degree angle,
People would ask, “Is that a statue?”
I would look wee, tiny, petite, way up there.
The wind would try to knock me to the ground.
I would pirouette and taunt the wind.
Teasing him, but not allowing him any power over me.
When I return to the ground, people would ask for an autograph.
I would refuse to give them one, keeping on my dark glasses.
They would chant my name, calling me “miracle woman”.
It would be terrific!
A slack line slaps a flagpole as the wind gusts through the park.
The band shell stands abandoned, but for dogs that sniff and bark.
I'd take my lucky penny, drop it gladly in the well
That all would be as music for my Lejna Tasha Belle.
The weedy footpath narrows, withered tangles intertwine
The partly broken trellis which the drunken rose once climbed.
I'd rake this moon-dark garden, work till Nature cast Her spell,
That all would be as flowers for my Lejna Tasha Belle.
I’ll not see end to end from in the middle
Until life’s brilliant necklace comes unstrung.
Where once I’d recollect, “When you were little…”
I now look back and sigh, “When I was young…”
I rustle through the clutter of November's dry debris
And contemplate the lonely leaf-choked fountain then I see
The fallen-in gazebo where the carved initials tell
That all was once as springtime for my Lejna Tasha Belle.
My grandma was a steeple jack,
Of heights she had no fear.
The crowds would gather round to watch.
They came from far and near,
To see her swing and pirouette,
Doff her hat and wave.
And gasped and cheered each time she feigned
A slip and then a save.
Roof-toppers winced and bit their lips,
Tight rope walkers screamed.
Treetop loggers looked away
At the daring they were seeing.
Women gasped and children shrieked,
Fearful she would fall,
But at full ascent a massive roar
As she stood upon the ball!
She blew a kiss to the those below
As she turned around with ease,
Then there atop removed her scarf
And cast it to the breeze
But the crowd went wild as before their eyes
They viewed her final feat…
Into a handstand Grandma rose,
Then she waved and kicked her feet!
Whether flag pole, steeple, TV tower…
My grandma climbed them all.
For the freedom felt there in the clouds,
She was at their beck and call.
That grand old gal inspired me
Her legacy I've retraced.
Now I too dance upon a pole
At a club called Mary’s Place.
Enter the quickening
Earth wind and fire sand
Pulsating purple pork pie presence
Varacus viscus veinns
Like bullets piercing brain
baloon targets
Knocking them from scaffolding
block's like humpty dumpty sat
on maple honey
Oh eye's wide shut with solent
flagpole running up dancing kite
like on the breeze
Unbound me, find me, free me
from this stained glass mirror
looking back
To dream a trip of light fandango carousel fairground ponies aboard
a ferris wheel of cotton candy
Clutching such winning prizes ranging
from goldfish to teddy bears
With a pocket full of sixpence left
enought to catch the last bus home
Or play the slots jackpot , jackpot
all the lucky 7even's
The way metal sounds tapping against a flagpole
Flash of brilliance
In the form of light
To be born
Bright child
lightning strike
Loud thunderstorm
Shine
The earth like a bow
Thrown through pale-earth sky
An electric charge of energy
An echoing cry
Of Life
A skinny yellow dog walks 'round
Needin' to find some shade.
The dusty little one street town
Is hot as God has made.
He eyed the flagpole in the square
No shadow could he see
He raised his leg an' aimed it there
"You ain't no help to me".
11-10-19
Contest: Give Me Eight Lines Of Rhyme
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Poverty chained to a flagpole —
I was ivory told,
my ebony soul
got set free by a publican vote
A historic hot mess
was cleaned up
with a profitable confess
Anthem chimes tolled cold data technology
halted the reptilian ingress
Crooked logic
delivered straight ghetto
A rich lie always got a glitter sheen
White toga tragic
sold as a Happy Hour motto
The color of revision is dollar green
Some churchy woman
asked me did I register early
Said the vote was gonna keep me free
Just as long
as I kiss the behind of Lady Liberty
Another queen of heaven acolyte
with a lip balm ball-and-chain
Slick message from Pharaoh:
return property to Egypt
Prosperity illusion sent overnight
Crooked logic
delivered straight ghetto
Fake bosoms always got a real buxom allure
White powdered magic,
phat pocket Powerball lotto
Paper billow whores love dying on shipwreck shores
J just as cold a March and December
A always is the month of the wolf
N National spaghetti day on the forth of the month
U usually on the 3rd day it’s Festival of Sleep and Fruitcake Toss day
A and January named after the Roman God Janus
R run up the Flagpole and see if anyone Salutes Day on the second day
Y year is new so it’s a new year welcome to the quary it’s January
1/5/19
Written words by James Edward Lee 2019
Ten fingers
left and right palm pig squeezing a thief’s prayer merry
One finger
covetously dipped in the pie hole green apple gouging
Nine fingers
raven cloaked in vulture reaper robes condor circling
Two fingers
giving the universal sign of double cross peace
Eight fingers
talking black market side deal shogun spidery
Three fingers
got a pirate hook grip anchored in the purse sea
Seven fingers
be flagpole nose lying king Nero pose wannabes
Four fingers
preying mantis quotes holding the predator smile idoly
Six fingers
covered in silver serpentine tongue saliva oozing sticky
Five fingers
richly shaking down poor nations through debt slavery
Zero thumbs up
sell those Judas war coin lovers on the submarine ferry
Freedom rises in patriotic hues,
Lowered to half mast in mourning.
Abecedarians first salute of red, white and blues.
Greeting of new school day on slate-gray morning.
Pole sealed in globular cement — a foundation
Of a world of promise waving in the winds of fate.
Learning with loud claps of chalk dust in ovation.
Every student shaped by curved line or straight.
8/7/2018
Acrostic and Quatrain poetry contest
Sponsor: Savannah Brown
the cool breeze fondles
the old tattered flag as it
hangs on the flagpole
displaying it's frayed faded
colors of red, white, and blue
fluid in the wind
drawing your ears to the flags
flapping sounds trying
to tell manifold stories
of men and women's valor
8/19/2017
The Committee of Five edited Jefferson's draft. Their version survived further edits by the whole Congress intact, and reads:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. ——
Happiness; 1776 the common meaning may have been "prosperity, thriving, wellbeing"
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