awkward always alone Allie
bragged boastfully to baby Bertie Bill
clearly clarifying club-footed cloven Callie
deliberately deciphering dairy dung in Dickie Dill
easing eager Edgar’s electrifying entry
forever forsaking flim-flam’s frequent flam
greasing gray grannie’s gentle gentry
hardily helping herself to Harry’s hottish ham
In the late 60s, I heard the song,
'Ode To Billy Joe' by Bobbie Gentry.
Some time later, I heard the song,
'Take Me Home' by John Denver.
Bobbie Gentry's song reminds me
of my Southern roots not far from
the song's theme location in the
Mississippi Delta.
John Denver's song clearly paints the
picture of a place to which I would like
to return, if only it still existed. The name
lives on, but the people are gone. The fields
of corn and cotton remain but not the homes.
John's tone is magical, and I am mesmerized
by that country road. although my surroundings
were not mountainous but near sea level, John
still takes me home with his matchless lyrics.
Are they angry, annoyed
with alien landed gentry?
Are they just playing
a game shared, taught?
The fate of a losing country
One first observes in her gentry.
Parents lock kitchens, mount sentry;
The food-craving child bared entry.
Yep, the fate of such a country
I have espied in her pantry:
A family in quandary,
From soap men withholding laundry,
The neatly washed not primary
The well-ironed secondary...
On the roads of losing country
Often, unauthorized sentry:
Rich cars stopped soon after entry:
You won't want jobs sedentary...
In every damned losing country
Economic weather: wintry;
Foreign investors slow entry.
I have a posh poodle whose name is Miss Sentry
All night she stands vigil to stop a theive's entry
But she treats them like kin
And ushers them in
As if they were noble French gentry
by Robert Gorelick
Thieves love the posh poodle Miss Sentry
She awaits their canoodles aplenty
Though the posh poodle's on guard
The thieves melt her sweet heart
By bringing her steaks to gain entry.
by Belle Bellevue
2/27/23
Collaboration 3/11/23
Wherefrom did this unknown guest get entry,
As though an all-masterminding gentry?
In the name of death, loss, and love disband,
Grief drowns me into pernicious quicksand...!
Upset, alarmed, rejected, gloomy, remorse,
Angst, grudge... grief brings me repercussions hoarse;
Churn in my belly; tautness in my throat,
In exhaustion and sleeplessness, I float...!
Where's my concentration on duties gone?
Have whereunto mind and cognition drawn?
Where are my optimism and hope hidden?
Why is psychic composure bedridden...?
Go away, from me, grief of each essence!
Grand liberty to joy's constant presence;
May each conflict within me get clearance!
May mind and body work in adherence...!!!
21 February 2023
Rose knows little about her country.
Far few women do from the pantry
And still fewer,when it gets wintry...
So,she begrudges not the gentry
And challenges not mounted sentry.
Doesn't know about Oprah Winfrey,
Concentrating on their church's Belfry;
Her broadest smiles for Vicar's entry.
It's an old heart for modern poultry,
Her birds leaving when heat is sultry
For her fondest film on Gallantry
Or,if she's loaned it out,Pageantry.
Eyes dancing for just the old pictures:
What would they do to modern cultures?
Rose knows little about her country.
Far few women do from the pantry
And still fewer,when it gets wintry...
So,she begrudges not the gentry
And challenges not mounted sentry.
Doesn't know about Oprah Winfrey,
Concentrating on their church's Belfry;
Her broadest smiles for Vicar's entry.
It's an old heart for modern poultry,
Her birds leaving when heat is sultry
For her fondest film on Gallantry
Or,if she's loaned it out,Pageantry.
Eyes dancing for just the old pictures:
What would they do to modern cultures?
Meet the man of the hour,
The scourge of the town.
Born atop an ivory tower,
But cast all others down.
Daddy went from rags to riches,
By the sweat of labor's back.
Was inherited by young britches,
After suffering a heart attack.
Up he climbed the social ladder,
To rub elbows with the gentry.
Every day grew a little madder,
After denying him his entry.
With empty soul and ego full,
Bought counsel fraught with sin.
Selfishly then used his pull,
To bribe some to let him in.
Once inside, he forged a plan;
As the Master of Disguise.
Corrupting every thought of man,
With a cunning set of lies.
Perpetuated on the daily news,
The seed of doubt had spread.
Convincing many of his views,
Is how dissembling was bred.
Now a Nation's torn apart,
You can still hear his laughter.
The Richter scale is off the chart,
No telling what else he's after.
Scotland's Alan Ramsay
portrayed the gentry of his day
Presented thus face to face
with much dignity& grace
I hear the echoes of yesterday's callings
like a soft longing from a long ago ghost
The emerald forest of my youth re-appears
at the sight of a midnight cadence;
Mystical night dreams reiterate
like an incantation from long ago,
Forgotten Sepulchers...
Tunnels of earth wind and fire burn my desire
once again, as I perch onto the matrix of solid bark
the silence is almost deafening'
I hear the fairies call with their gentry of good will,
"we guiders of soul have come to take you home"
and as I walk through their fragrant gate,
I know from my heart of hearts, that I belong here
In their forest of dreams .
Unobtrusive spite with cruel-edged loudness,
Silk and lace light a night of arousing gentry,
Due to the ruddy hues and the real wellness,
Green is the scent of zeal thin field duality.
Silk and lace light a night of arousing gentry,
With a lurid boom, the frail light urging faded,
Green is the scent of zeal thin field duality,
Fire, ice, and frost have razed the pinnated.
With a lurid boom, the frail light urging faded,
Awaiting a lasting peace still shaky evening,
Fire, ice, and frost have razed the pinnated,
Late at night, it is as if they were midday being.
Awaiting a lasting peace still shaky evening,
A slip of a rich tear dries as a sad landscape,
Late at night, it is as if they were midday being,
Violet, in mad wiles, wisely views an escape!
A slip of a rich tear dries as a sad landscape,
Due to the ruddy hues and the real wellness,
Violet, in mad wiles, wisely views an escape!
Unobtrusive spite with cruel-edged loudness.
Written: June 04, 2022
For bold references
Are the fat differences
Between Women of America
And The Sun-Blackened of Africa
Who in torrents sweat
But over this not fret
In no hurry to involve air-conditioners
Rather through prayers to God Petitioners …
The Jilted-By-Her-Lover cries her head off
While The American could The Idiot’s head blow off,
Knee-low skirts only for a nice story,
The American sure in Mini as much glory,
African breasts continue to suckling duties answer,
Their American Twin strangely disposed to cancer …
Her women politicians content with The Gentry
While the American hopes to steer her country,
The lips of her women are sealed to sex styles
Non-Censored Americans pairs on this rich files
Of course, The Scholarly American often eyes degrees
While The African quits when daddy agrees …
Guess now the point I want to strike:
American and African women not alike!
You can go anywhere as someone else,
the masks and jesters play
invisible to sound and touch
the Lords and Creatures pray
To rent the future—sell the past,
the landlord still unnamed
invulnerable to what they sell
the real prize still unclaimed
To cry out once your voice reversed
lone echo at your back
the Landed Gentry comes and goes
—the crossroads blackest cat
(The New Room: April, 2022)
WILL-SLAP-ROCK
Perilous mixed up in the industry,
Troubled rumbled "situationship" tainted gentry,
epitomize a couple's open chemistry?
Oh...!!! What a timely tangle
that spangled in a world of Illuminati triangle.
Society's predicament sums up a night of quagmire
even though the story ends up ephemeral.
In betwixt the slap and Rock
was a moment with Chris and his long talk.
In betwixt Will Smith's "Oscar best actor" win,
was a comedy of errors and his open sin;
Global warming was the cheek of Chris Rock,
Oblivious of the disgrace that he couldn't duck
but had to be man enough
to receive that hot stuff,
steaming like a hot stove.
Twas like a Hollywood movie
that makes you shock, jocund or moody,
like when Mom hits you in front of your friends
and you act like it didn't hurt.
And so, "everybody hates Chris"
for cranking-up a bald joke about Jada Smith
but missed the moment Will noticed Jada wasn't having it
and had to slap Chris Rock for it,
just to make up for laughing so hard in a bit.
And just like that in one hour half,
this saga was passed around more than his wife.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©March 28th, 2022.
Related Poems