Those who are tough lived long enough
(from puerile juvenile to senile immobile)
to become on the world's bum a boil
in the very end my good friend old chum
will finally shuffle off their mortal coil
go to the dogs then pop their clogs
come to some harm and buy the farm
get a leg out check out peg out
or as bad luck would have it kick the bucket
when they give up the ghost and they're toast
if they were an eskimo
we'd sit them out on the ice and snow
but we're humane we do maintain
ne'er more to roam we condemn them
for life to an old folks' home
where the infirm may wither and dither
hanging around dwindling down
until the day they f-fade away
Barefaced and Itchy
Outrageously plain —
Arrives on request.
Give up the ghost.
Fortissimo crisp,
Boring as it is,
Unrelenting noise
Ringing nonstop.
Can’t adapt well
While deaf;
Sight diminishing,
I’m decaying —
Losing weight
And patience.
My thoughts melting,
Combining with something else —
Alien, for sure.
Its beauty inexplicable,
So I omit justification
For her purpose.
I could go without glory,
It seems selfish.
I feign well enough
To ignore her:
Vindictive narcissist,
Productive behavior.
I’m alive only because
The ringing is louder
Than melancholy.
Look on the black side —
Pretty sure I’m immortal,
A god, because I say so.
I lost control of this
A bit ago,
But I’m keeping it anyway.
Goodnight.
xo
Folks,
God loves us the most,
Don't give up the ghost,
Enjoy the trip, before we're all crisps!
I'll write you all a recipe,
For peace and harmony,
Be content in your own company,
Worse things than single, you see,
Smile at happy memories,
We'll bake peace cakes for thee,
Take some kindness and unity.
Stir with love and amity,
Sprinkle with divine grace,
Cook, serve to each human face,
With a trillion trees to hug,
Less of this smoggy fug,
Folks, do not give up the ghost,
Universe sends blessings the most,
Enjoy your prime today,
Peace fill find its way!
Smiles for all of you,
That's my recipe, over to you!
What causes a relationship to fail?
Decay sets in when thoughtlessness persists,
when selfishness extends beyond the pale,
and chances to show love are blindly missed.
Vacated houses crumbling with decay
once teemed with life and families with dreams.
Now in the wind, these spindly structures sway,
not willing to give up the ghost, it seems.
But Nature’s life-renewing power leans
upon decay of plants. Like night and day,
these opposites, decay and growth, are means
that lead to all Earth’s glory on display.
Each year Spring plants and flowers grace the Earth,
for God decreed that death results in birth.
A new day began, I sprained my right hand!
Then my furnace decided to "give up the ghost"
Neighbor brought friend who would understand;
soon, room became as warm as toast.
then it stopped dead--all was lost
my muse and I were doomed to frost.
Two electric, space heaters running twenty-four/seven!
It was twenty at night--temp's winter hat doff.
My electric bill was reaching toward the heavens
My muse preferred to scoff
while my toes were freezing off!
Probably Monday, a new one he could install.
It would cost one THOUSAND--I needed some air!
Opened my door, found my son standing tall!
A guy with tech background, drove here to share.
I needed a hero, and he was there!
My muse and I needn't despair.
Aren't sons and daughters a wonderful plan!
They will help with gusto and style.
And hero neighbors lending their helping hand!
Faulty solder fixed; the heat will soon beguile.
My hand needs a brace for a while;
and my muse? I saw a tiny smile.
I’m really worried what I am wondering here
The constant concerning at the cost that so dear
It a matter of mixes in a mark for a real mess
The loss of the advantage for a “Who Could Care Less”
I’ve really forgotten to see the short sky of my frame
Like an overcast view just for a look at my name
I’m really at a point for a real give up the ghost
So I’ll take a quick rewind like a true VHF boast
If it’s a mess in the meaning then mine is the mire
So I’ll sit at my doorstep with my nice shoes and retire
Time to give up the ghost, throw in the towel
You'll never find the girl of your dreams
The very next day is precisely when
She appears, cued by the forces of Zen
You've looked for years for that special position
So you're certain 'it ain't meant to be'
Just when you stop checking Indeed and Linked-in
You get a call about that job req* from your twin
When we finally decide to let go of the reins
~ We see they were actually chains
__________________________________________
*req = requisition
There is a COVID-19 ghost
Who flits around from coast-to-coast
He loves to zoom
Around a room
To see whom he infects the most
I’ve written it!! Do I press send? Do I post?
I’ll read it again, just to be sure.
No, it’s a pile of…I’m going to get a roast.
But my poem count is down! A count I need to secure!
Everyone else is so damn brilliant,
I’m not, in any way, in their league,
Just post the damn thing! You need to be resilient!
Oh my god, I feel the fatigue!
Give up the ghost! Give yourself a break!
There are more important things in life,
But then again, your reputations at stake,
Yet the perspective is, what exactly do you strive?
I’m going to post it! I’m going to do it now.
I don’t care, I really don’t,
If I post it, I’ll live somehow
But then again, maybe I won’t!
momentary clarity
seeing i’m human after all
grandeur drowned in mortality
i am all totality
i’m nothing at all
yes, feeling small
the largest of feelings
the hardest for telling
foretelling my futures
complexity looming
chaos consuming
hope always blooming
at the last minute
not done till i’m finished
never give up the ghost
just because you’ve lost hope
over the horizon
fixing my eyes again
flesh spirit battle weary
soul, hold me, onward dreary
love, you’re a mystery
a curse and a gift to me
the wind that keeps lifting me
the waves always drifting me
connected to feeling
in body, in realness
ethereal madness
fading some, can i grasp this
can you grasp?
i don’t ask this
my last breath, my life passed then
never to ask when
in an age, in an afternoon
breath fleeting leaving soon
inspiration the gentle moon
good night sweetly gripping me
i am all totality
Spring flowers that never
Give up the ghost;
Perennially in bloom,
Worth fighting
And dying for;
Love and friendship
Like a fine wine
The more aged, the tastier
Going beautifully hand
In hand and can't exist
Without the other;
Love and friendship
Two gifts that keep on giving
And make life worthwhile;
Seeds that need watering
To continue growing
And enduring;
Love and friendship
Two butterflies
Emerging, as if like magic
From their chrysalis.
Soon to grow wings
And take flight;
Love and friendship
STRAND CHOICE X,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
(Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date written and posted: 10/13/2018
As we approach a certain age
Before the end draws nigh
Afore my knees give up the ghost
Or bunions stop me climbing high
When all I eat is jam on toast
Now is it time to make the most
To maybe write a bucket list
Of all the things I might have missed
Like jumping from an airplane
Too risky, that’s insane
Or swimming with a shark or two
Is something I would never do
To teeter on a tightrope above a high abyss
Would be crazy I have vertigo
So think I’ll give this one a miss
To bungee jump from way up high
Please have the medics standing by
My bucket list abundant
Making sharks or two redundant
With adventures unfulfilled
That I do not want to miss
Like a day trip to the Moon
Wishing this could happen soon
Set sail upon a Galleon
In search of Paradise
To discover Shangri-La
Or a place they call Utopia
Oh dear, I think I’ve lost the plot
I‘m sounding even dopier
I can’t believe I’m dreaming of a place they call Utopia
Returning to reality
I make myself a pot of tea
For I don’t need a bucket list
As there is nothing I have missed
Contest Strand no 710
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st Place
Time for time to tell,
Speak of death profound;
Glimpse of mystic grounds,
Squeeze out life to dwell.
Space for space to host,
Taste how death makes known;
A full circle shown,
Now give up the ghost.
Feel for feel that heals,
Death frames old attire;
Watch old life retire,
Heal old will that spills.
Rhyme for rhyme be still,
Transcend this harsh toil;
Pleasure blooms grand soil,
Death brings fond goodwill.
Leon Enriquez
29 August 2018
Singapore
Some like to say “give up the ghost”,
To mean forever abandoning your post.
The rowdy ones prefer to kick the bucket,
Though that would surely make a racket.
Many are said to bite the dust,
When they’re catching the skyward bus.
A gambler would likely cash in his chips,
Hope he’ll change his winnings into tips.
I knew someone who turned up his toes,
When on habaneros he overdosed.
The more vocally inclined tend to croak,
Then become quieter than a dead oak.
My granduncle may soon fall off his perch,
For both food and sex he has lost the urge.
We will soon shuffle off this mortal coil,
Pack it up and immigrate to the soil.
You’re scheduled to go the way of all flesh,
Whether your figure is average or a smash.
It’s no great tragedy to breathe one’s last,
If regrets are few and life’s been a blast.
When I’m ready to sail to heaven’s arch,
Raise a toast and wish me bon voyage!
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