a poem about this
a poem about that
a poem with a bit of gunfire,
rat-a-tat-tat
they have their own minds
throw themselves down on a page
I don’t dare to stop them
I’ve reached a seasoned age
Who am I channeling?
It certainly cannot be Plath or Poe
My stuff is upbeat,
I do not do depression or woe
My muse is in charge
Trixie is her given name
She’s persistent and relentless
A do-something dame
Grace was more than just her given name,
Ready always to provide for friends and neighbors~
And so her kindness was proclaimed,
My grandmother, worthy now of God's own favors.
Good evening, sir, my name is Alice.
A man of peculiar predilections,
Lewis Carroll, made me, not from malice.
Rather, more so, from his affections.
A pen name for a man, pedagogic,
Charles Dodgson was the given name
of this Oxford professor of sound logic.
To me, he's Lewis Carroll, just the same.
If my creator made another choice,
and threw me tumbling down another hole,
and hearing not a rabbit's nervous voice,
you'd see a wormhole swallow me whole.
To a wormhole of logical conundrums,
let us take a wild, but confusing trip.
Well, are you ready, hear the roll of drums?
Put your thinking cap on. I'll let 'er rip!
Poets are illogical and write of Luna.
Nobody who eats tuna also plays whist.
Illogical people also eat tuna.
My gist? Do poets who play whist, exist?
While you are considering that my friend,
I'll go to my place in that charming book,
where Mister Carroll ensured my life won't end.
If you want to see me, come take a look.
I remember that special service like it was yesterday,
The table at the alter set up with candles like it was my wedding day,
I had my vows in my pocket ready to give,
Not even knowing what was in store with Him,
I had wrote down every promise, and all He meant to me,
I was ready to surrender everything,
As I lit the candle in my heart I knew,
I married you and sat back down in the pew,
As I placed my vows in my Bible, I opened up to a verse,
That spoke of marriage to the land, and a new name on earth,
It was so private and beautiful I cried,
He changed my name that day just between Him and I,
And no one at that time ever knew, my heart was hidden in you...
And now it's an honor for me to say,
That Hephzibah is my God given name,
on a hill lied a girl
separated from the world
as she wrote, her words would choke,
stuck somewhere inside her throat,
through gritted teeth her lyrics beat,
ate away at her sleep
so up she looked at the sky
to wonder why the stars still shine
do they not know her every crime,
if only she could close her eyes,
to her the world must be so blind,
she shoved a needle in her eye,
trying to change her given name
forgetting still it sounds the same
stuck inside this rotting brain
she prays one day this pain will fade
Some of you are concerned so very sweet
You notice when I DON’T write poetry
Let me assure you all is fuschia fine
Waiting on inspiration to temp my mind
Also I am still learning to play piano
It’s grueling like dueling with my soul
I’m also judging a poetry contest here
Loving your entries you’re all such a dear
I started my own thing it is my dream
My small business called Kandle Publishing
You know me by my given name at birth
But Kandle Jones my pen name I prefer
So I have my fingers in a few life pies
Sooner or later my poetry juices will arrive
Insanity
Fear, pain and thoughts of going insane by the despair that surrounds you as you grasp for a glimmer of light. It calls out your name again and again in hopes that your soul can be drawn back in. Insanity engulfs your brain as once again the needle enters the vein. You convince yourself there is no other way and it's your only friend that will make everything ok. The needle has replaced your given name you are now only known as embarrassment, guilt and shame.
The thought of life without your friend is a heavy burden and unbearable pain. Hope it's always in the back of your head praying that you don't end up dead, but chances are the road your on looks bleak and stormy until you're gone.
Demons carry you day by day until your last breath and there's no more game to play. There's a fight left in you until your last breath, but it's up to you to take that stand or take the leap into the promised land. God's by your side each hour that ticks by so look to him to find a much better high.
Named by someone else's mouth,
you enter words,
they become your horses,
you ride them,
then a time comes when they ride you,
you become their hoof-beats.
Your name was always
that which came out of a womb
to Say Itself,
yet your given name
entered your ears like a horse thief.
Now you are the many names of Jesus,
of Mary, of Judas.
You stable such names
until your own Christ christens
your ghost.
The horses gallop on,
words become saddles,
but now where are you,
and what to call you?
Anticipation
By Franklin Price
04/06/2022
I am in anticipation
Of a visit I have planned
To see the first Great grandchild
Those who've been there understand
He was born in February
One day after Valentine
His given name begins with “D”
To carry on the Perry line
His father's name is Dalton
Grandfather's name is Darren
His great grandfather's Danny
How do you think I 'm farin'?
What is his name?, you're thinking.
In case you're wondering, it's Dean
I have watched him on the portal
Many pictures I have seen
I'll be seeing him in person
After shots, at eight weeks old
Don't think he will be walking yet
That's the story I've been told
He'll be ready for some sit-ups
Has been saving them for me
His mother did them at that age
I'll just have to wait and see
I'll be there on Barbara's birthday
She can see him through my eyes
She's been watching him from heaven
Sending love, that's no surprise.
Sideral dwelling
Where time resides not
There lonely ambles
The bigger truth of mine
Decreed distance
By unknown source
Sorrow of no form
Can ever cut short
Mountain high layers
Failed rejoin attempts
Roads paved with eons
Splatter unspeakable pain
Deeper than death
Piled sense of loss
Decayed earthly version
Inverted cognition of life flow
Useless etui of ignorance
My given name
For it says nothing
About who I am
Not crossed off Santa's list yet,
but, at my age, realistically
my Christmas' on this earth left
are few;
feeling blessed, for having
shared, so many of them joyfully
with you – mostly all having
bright white lights...just a few with
centers sad partings tinted
blue –
The tree is up; lit, with angels
and manger in their blessed
places – awaiting all those celebratory
faces; especially the little ones,
Jesus has a special fondness,
knowing each by our given name,
loving each as much, but no two
the same – by Father individually
created –
preferring evermore now prayer
to lift, over any manufactured nor
worldly gift – for no finer treasure
given God's man than God's Son...the
greatest lottery for us selflessly
drawn and won!
Villanelle : Hide not behind caste nor bought courtly name
[He who fears to affix his name to his face or words has something to hide unless the State is after him/her out of fear...]
Hide not behind caste nor bought courtly name
If no tyrant nor king seeks to blunt your pen
Not even Maquisards make such a claim
Lenin Mao Gandhi fear not given name
They stand by their word in the open
Hide not behind caste nor bought courtly name
Writers and poets sometimes flaunt pseudonym
Slip past the Law to fool friend behind pen
Not even Maquisards make such a claim
Some daren’t offend patrons with by-line fame
Wife child ageing mother rights will ripen
Hide not behind caste nor bought courtly name
Does the user of the second name blame
Circumstances or his own fears open
Not even Maquisards make such a claim
Fear of being caught outright in this game
May make hidden causes énergumène
Hide not behind caste nor bought courtly name
Not even Maquisards make such a claim
© T. Wignesan – Paris, November 17, 2021
Moon night!
Full quarter, half-moon snow bright;
Mid-day, mid noon, such a boom;
a Moon lit Knight;
Son of a Jewish Rabbi;
Birth given name Marc Spector;
Was a professional boxer?
Did a tour of duty, fought as a Marin;
Leaves them to join ops. In CIA!
Later in the parlay
Becomes a vigilante;
A gravity anti-hero;
Mercenary;
Killed by an Egyptian Bushman;
The Egyptian god of Konshu resurrects;
Marc Spector mercenary rich socialite;
Now transformed by this god into;
Moon Knight;
Vigil unto battle mode;
Ready to deal with any ordinary criminals;
Crime fighter dressed in WHITE;
With the crest of the quarter moon on his chest;
Moon night;
Full quarter, half-moon;
Mid-day, mid noon;
A Moon Knight!
8/6/21
10/3/2022 revision©2021, 2022©
"From anthology Marvel Comics Poetry BIOS"
For Moon Knight Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
A fidget of a widget, is fidgeting again
A feisty little midget, is what she’s always been
Her given name is Gidget, a girl with a giggle
The very same as Bridget, a whirl in a wiggle
If Gidget is a fidget of a widget with a growl
And Bridget is a twidget with a midget for a pal
Then what about the gadabout who never seems to fit
The stupid lout you're mad about for acting like a twit
He probably is more like me than what I care to comb
For suddenly there seems to be no hair upon my dome
If I should chance by happenstance to catch a beam of sun
Then you may see a brand new me is medium well-done
The ones you pet will not forget the way that you are kind
They will not let the fun you get betray your peace of mind
If you will test your very best by what you say to Bridget
Then you will crest above the rest who pray to play with Gidget.
Marion his given name most called him the Duke,
American lad made good living the dream,
Started as a bit actor,
B movie followed B movie he strived for more,
His big break came with the movie stagecoach,
Then everyone knew his name,
A true cowboy rugged good looks gravely voice,
Going to war with indians, gunslingers and more in his films,
The war he lost was to Cancer it won in 79,
Yet he is still remember today a tribute to his acting skill,
A new generation watch his films once again,
John Wayne legend a true star.
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