Oh no, there go the sirens,
They’re over’ead again.
Take the kids to the shelter, Ma.
That ‘itler’s a bloomin’ pain.
Night after night for eight months.
When will it ever end?
There can’t be much left to bomb now.
It’s drivin’ us round the bend.
But, of course we’ll never surrender;
We’re British to the core.
And, wiv Winston as our leader,
We’ll win this ruddy war.
And the King and Queen, Gawd bless ‘em,
They won’t let us dahn.
They could ‘ave gone to Balmoral,
But they stayed in London Tahn.
Surrounded by bricks and rubble,
We try to soldier on.
But all the time we’re thinkin’
Of friends and neighbours who’ve gone.
Ah, nah the all clear’s sounded;
We’ve survived anuvver night.
Ready to start annuver day
And carry on the fight.
Bert Higgins
The London Blitz, September 1940 – May 1941 –
In the voice of an Eastender
My mind is a-flurry
Hurry hurry, scurry scurry
Runnin ‘round
In circles shrinking
Always plotting, planning
Thinking
Oh my oh my
Ta ta must run
So many things
That must be done
Write a list
That I can’t find
Add it to
The daily grind
Oh my gawd
I’m going daffy
Just order me
A Mocha Latte
Sip it slowly
I’ve a list to edit
Truth be told
I never read it
I heard my tongue scream
YES!!!! YES!!!!! OH GAWD YES!!
The fork trembled
The knife hesitated
The maple syrup
Dripping lips quaked.
Cage free egg yolks
Filled the craters
Of the unexplored waffle terrain
Soft, plump cheeked strawberries
Crept closer to the golden shore
Blushing as the bacon sizzled at them
A knife parted the sea of syrup
Allowing it to mingle
To taunt, tempt and torture
The taste buds
Of a once insatiable beast
The last vestige
Of this gustatory grandeur
The hint of maple
Caressing my moustache
Tormenting a tortured tongue
Arousing a need to
Gently lick
That prickly collector
Of memories
In search of savory crumbs
They'd be war a'coming
nay a battle
for wars a meant to last ...!
They say wars do end ...
and then they turn into battles
then battles become personal
then personal becomes private
and then private goes behind closed doors ...
Ahh, ... then when those doors open
they hold up a paper
and on that paper
it has their signed names
still wet with inked stains
and on that so-called paper
with the contents thereon
just a fraction of it
just the gist of it
just be but a tiny ...
'piece' ...
the word ...
'
P
E
A
C
E'.
Oh, 'GAWD-awful' of me
don't forget that period at ...
T E
H N
E D ...
Then the funniest thing had happened
in the 'little' or 'long'
thereafter,
depending on how you value your time ...
T I D
H N R
E K IED ...
As I said
They'd be war a'coming
... but then again,
It could be just a ...
R
U
M
O
R.
poets shall now ~ present comment guidelines which will show us how
let us avoid all ridicule ~ and not be too hyper criti-cule
check box poem enjoyed or well done ~ AI generated has begun
hell no waiter what's that fly doing in my soup?
~the backstroke monsieur favorite of the connoisseur's soup poop
pesky fly in my soup good gawd ~ i'd swat the bloody thing but i shan't
not worth the stain on my shiny new suit ~ off with you beastly pest, scoot
—Add on by Tom Woody
mock me if you must ~ uninvited poetry comment i can't trust
—Add on by Robert Gorelick
Was this poem any good? It was or it wasn't!
No—A poem, like a song
grabs you or doesn't!
Don't be insidious!!
I believe that everyone should have the right to be whoever they are
And allow others to exercise that same right
I believe that everyone should have the right to think what they think
And allow others to exercise that same right
I believe that everyone should be able to speak their mind
And allow others to speak theirs
I believe that I have the right to disagree with your thoughts and beliefs
And that you have the right to disagree with my thoughts and beliefs
I know that my thoughts and beliefs have been influenced by your thoughts and beliefs
Because I listened to your voices not your shouting.
And I would hope the same is true of your thoughts and beliefs.
I believe that we are all Americans, or came here and became Americans
Because in America we can find a way to become whoever we are,
Believe and think as we will, and speak of these beliefs openly.
I believe that we all have a responsibility to protect and defend
The principles of this nation and to preserve the promise of its Constitution.
If you have read this far you may be becoming A CONSERVATIVE LIBERAL….
©9/19/2023
To Be A Poet, Oft Strong Commands Come At Night
Oh, gawd- comes raging middle of the night
This horrid current, rise up and now write
An electric jolt, firing through me bones
Of new fortress looming, huge granite stones
And that tingle surging from old waking soul
As pagan's carving of a totem pole
Words spilling out from a resistant heart
Pen and paper screaming, hurry let's start!
Stumbling amidst and across dim-lit room
Word flowing from life or else dreaded doom
Splash, splash as ink and paper newly wed
Old verses, that a spirited mind said
Some few flavored with Shakespearean awe
Other's cuttings from old lumberjack's saw!
And I, vessel to set these ravings down
Of love, a princess in her golden gown
Dancing slowing across a ballroom floor
One never knows what else comes through that door!
Robert J. Lindley, Nov. 2nd 1978
Rhyme,
( When Poetry Forces A Poet To Wake Up And Write )
The winter snow lay dotted with prints
Print that let up to the patio doors.
Ahh, poor little cat,
skinny and cold !
Got a box for a bed,
And a bowl of food.
Well that cat must have thought
This is a Bed and breakfast,
Cause it came back
The next day and another.
Just a little food.
Now he brought his brother!
Oh my gawd! He brought a friend
Then that friend brought a friend.
Each day there were more and more
Now I'm feeding twenty four !
How sad to say but we will walk right past
a tattered cold man
Who probably is hungry.
Yet we can't pass up feeding a stray cat !
'look what i found ma'...
"now thet there was yer gran pa's
fav'rit grave marker...
...don't go lose'n it"
'yuh mean gran pa made tombstones'
"no son...thet was his...
...so where'd'ya find it"
'top of the septic tank ma'
"and how'd it git there"
'tommy did it ma'
"did whut...just who is tommy...
...gawd no...where's dad's jar"
stan sand
COBWEBS……..
yeechy, sticky, clutchy, grabby
freakin’ COBWEBS
SPIDERS…..you can get even with spiders
but COBS….
YES…..COBS…..
those invisible little
COBWEB makers…..
OH, and GRUBS…
nothing like reaching into the soil
and unearthing one of those
…..little darlings……
YEETCHH…..makes me do
that freakin’ shiver dance…
y’know……like you’re tryin’
to shake a snake outta your pant leg….
and BABY BOOGERS….
GAWD…..don’t even get me started
on BABY BOOGERS…..
AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH
©5/27/2019
What Makes You Flinch Poetry Contest
Julie Leigh Rodeheaver sponsor
Oh my Gawd she had such a bawdy bawd
that when she passed the crowing crows all cawed
when her icy stare
bid them “don’t come near”
they settled for the daily catch – “cold scrod”
©5/24/2019
Bawdy Limerick Contest
Tania Kitchin - sponsor
Who moved the room? What colors are these?
Where are you going? Chuckle. Chuckle. Who cares?
Gas in the dentist office is not half as great as.
Who are you? Oh. Okay. Sure.
You can crash over there next to the others.
Oh, that is so pretty! Oh, my Gawd! What IS that?
Wow! Keeping myself here always.
Real life can just....
What is going on?
Hey! I have missed you so much! Hey, it's my soul!
My SOUL is here! What are these colors?
I am so damned hungry. Maybe one more brownie.
I will dance with you. No. I will fly with you.
I do not even need you. I need no one!
I am flying now.
I can fly as high as I want.
Call me Peter Pan.
Just let me go.
Let me be.
Who said that? What are you the CIA?
What colors are these? These are NEW colors!
Wow!
Ever take one of those psychological stress quizzes
With one of those psychiatrist
Know-it alls?
Me neither.
Ever gonna?
Me neither.
What would be the point?
Oh, my GAWD! You should be depressed.
Stern look.
I’m not.
Then something is wrong with you.
Thanks.
That will be $150.
You may pay my receptionist on your way out.
That’s it?
Yes, this was your intake session.
I get the receptionist’s phone number on the way out.
We are having coffee so she can tell me more about the
Awful psychiatrist she works for.
I do not feel badly about giving her a
Check that will bounce.
"Hurry!"
"Hurry, you've gotta see this!"
She yelled at me from a hundred yards down the beach ...
So I ran, barefooted, as fast as I could to where she stood
But when I got there ... nothing!
Just her smile as she nipped her bottom lip
"Gawd yer sexy when you run in the sand," she said
Are you kidding me - there's nothing here??
"Oh, I wouldn't say that I was ... nothing" she answered
She did have a point there
"In fact ... since you ran all this way"
She took handfuls of her knee-length hair and lassoed me with it
Pulling me into the dunes and marsh grasses
She had laid out a blanket, neatly
With a basket of food and wine, wrapped in red plaid
"That's dessert, cutie-pie," she motioned
But what about the main course?
She smiled again, falling back onto the blanket
Right hand grasping my belt
"Me," she winked.
I think I’ll write of love
twinkling eyes and turtle doves
gazing into limpid space
‘THAT” look plastered on their face
babbling in soundless awe
elevating every flaw
hours spent in fawning glee
she loves me more than I love me
my eyes, my nose, my greasy hair
the very feelings that I share
although I cannot tell her so
I fear she’d just get up and go
her foot - it rubs up to my knee
oh gawd, please stop, I gotta pee
another problem to beset us
on her teeth….that piece of lettuce
and as we talk of reading Chaucer
he sips his tea….right from the saucer
they linger now – parting’s sweet sorrow
perhaps they’ll Facebook on the morrow
John G. Lawless
©11/14/2018
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