Graded Poems

The Absolute Worst

Small things become
large in a life at times,
appointments made 
that hang like a sentence 
over one's head,
incarcerating you in fear
for a week or more.
A pain that won't go away
growing into a dozen
self diagnosed causes, 
some serious, some benign 
until you remember 
straining to lift
a heavy pot
yesterday or the day before.
Then there are all
the “what ifs” that invade
the mind when you are trying
to get to sleep, a whole 
catalogue of outcomes graded 
from the unfortunate 
to the absolute worst, 
one of which is bound 
to come true, ruining 
your plans or causing you 
to be carted off in a hearse. 
And even when you find
a quiet corner somewhere
in your life where 
a little sunshine comes
shining through, it's always
short-lived when you convince
yourself it just can't be true.

Our Final Test

Our final test will be graded
When our breath has dissipated
Life itself is our final test
Final grade when we’re laid to rest

Taking the test may make you snore
If you don’t care about the score
For the next one you’ll study more
Then it hits I’m dead on the floor

There’re no more chances to improve
That was the final my last move
What can I say when at the gate
Please let me have a later date

Your name is not here take a look
Only those saved are in the book

Makhorka

Eyes drifting
In waiting, 
Silently,
              Gazing
In vain,
Despite it,
He enlarged them 
Widely opened, as if
Searched for something interesting,
Very 
Carefully, 
                  Silently, 

Like a lazy bear, he put it on the old wooden table.
Carefully,
             refolding
his courage
lifting up
ferrous arms
stripping 
Carefully,
a tinny piece,
rolling himself,
In still noise
a cigarette of 
Powerful
low-graded 
rustika,
a variety of
great purge
hunger
killing 
good reason, 
One pack a day
It helped, like hell
Helped.

It helped survive 
the cold, 
and everyday
toil when 
soldiers and ants
starved,
Makhorka,
insecticide 
of freedom. 

Silently,
           Looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them 
widely opened, 
Carefully,
                   Silently.

Funny Teacher

My teacher who thought sun-bathing made her well-red,
graded me average, she was mean to the power hundred.

She was once a banker, but after some time lost interest,
wanted to be a pilot, so her career could take off for the best.

She thought to be able to fly high, could be truly uplifting,
instead she bought a boat, for in the sea it was for sail drifting. 

She was an optimist, her blood type was B-positive, they stated,
but the doctor said it was Type-O, the mistake was corrected.

Her memory was photographic, but she couldn’t fully develop it,
she needed to alter a brain part, changed her mind the last minute.

When she stole neighbor’s lamps, he couldn’t be more de-lighted,
a picturesque girl, she landed in jail, “I was framed”, she asserted.

The Drunken Clown

On the day of your party 
Please be sure to invite
The Drunken Clown.

He offers steady humor 
At a pace everyone can measure.
His drinks, give love and laughter ,
his expressions: love and empathy. 

In a graded lawn he falls and tumbles,
His eyes red and bleeding,
Look to him to point and laugh.

Our drunken clown gets his payment 
In full, pursuing the right wingers, 
And guffawing with the left.
His sincerity bobbles in an ocean of booze.

Cheers and Slaintè to our drunken clown. 
Salud, and Prost!
To our home
And I sleep the sleep
Of a thousand filtered souls,
In ungracious betterment,
And a hope to die by my own hand.

Vicious visions of a youth undocumented, 
And a prayer I never have the balls to do it.

The End of a Chapter

The final bell had sounded. Happy kids
fled halls and classrooms, out those double doors.  
I heard brief conversations: “Call me soon” . . .
“Hey, let’s go swimming” . . . “Catch ya later, Dude!”
They’d soon return to school, but not to me.

I graded final tests and posted grades
just as I had for decades, but then came
lunchtime with colleagues and unique good-byes,
from some I’d seldom see, some not at all—
for I would never pass that way again.

I filled my car with boxes that contained
a plethora of teaching aids, a mass
of memories of a career—of my
identity since I was twenty-two.
Then, through my tears, I took one long last look,
and made my way toward  my other home.

Choosing a Ballad for the Karaoke Contest

I choose to sing
a gentle song
in a soft ballad
I find my time and place.

A gentle song
in peace and love
I find my time and place
on a makeshift stage.

In peace and love
in subtleties of verse
on a makeshift stage
a new life I create.

In subtleties of verse
and in nuances of lyrics
a new life I create
intimacy found.

And in nuances of lyrics
feelings of my heart are conveyed
intimacy found
my performances graded and scored.

Feelings of my heart are conveyed
as I take my turn.
I chose to sing
a gentle song.

The play divine

As of choiceless choice 
Employing free will
The one became two
Erased memory 
To engage in play

In timeless time
Graded silence
Rekindled bliss
Transcendental 

The mirror
Now broken
Ended trance

The two
Became

One

Failing The Muse

Have I let
her down again
Have I failed
once more
Have I jumbled
up the words
Have I graded 
poor
Have I taken her
for granted
Have I missed
the mark
Have I disappointed
one
—who pulled me from the dark

(Dreamsleep: January, 2024)

Release

Gray skies linger, the thunder has stopped
Frustration hovers in the fog, but not fear
There is no sight of the yellow sun
Raindrops have poured on the brain’s thoughts
Leaving puddles with old time reflections
Powerful people use threats to stop the truth
Like a flower that drowns in the torrential rain,
while they just stand there watching…
As if the flower never had beauty or precious life
While the victims feel lost one day to the next,
Criminals don’t care where they, themselves are going
To hell, with millions and millions of lightening strikes
Tables eventually turn, there is no escape for them
For now, it is just a storm, another storm
Time is a test and they have found a way to cheat
All is known when the test is to be graded
They will wish they were a flower, when they fail
The sun later rises to seek those who are looking
As it shines on the truth, nothing more to be proven
Released from the acquisition of research to survive
As their souls find peace, without having to strive


Heidi Sands

9/11/23

Pun Fun

My teacher who thought sun-bathing made her well-red,
graded me average, she was mean to the power hundred.

She was once a banker, but after some time lost interest,
wanted to be a pilot, her career could take off for the best.

She thought to be able to fly high, could be very uplifting,
instead she bought a boat, for it was for sail and tempting.

She an optimist, her blood type was B-positive, they stated,
but the doctor told it was Type-O, the mistake was corrected.

Her memory was photographic, but she couldn’t develop it,
she was to alter a brain part, changed her mind last minute.

When she stole neighbor’s lamps, he couldn’t be more de-lighted,
a picturesque girl, she landed in jail, “I was framed”, she asserted.

_______________

March, 5, 2023
Contest : Pun Fun
Sponsored by : Margarita Lillico

Weeh Thongo

I've been me ,
A meepy child accused of crafts .
Tangled  in my sleep , 
For waisting time ,
Loved the errors at cloud nine .
And still I made it with no trial.

I've lived in the upside  down world ,
Where each dream was taken for word ,
Graded was for worst ,
Still I am an agent  on quest ,
Posturing those of abo gogo 
Imfihlo zi'mnadi zabo Khokho .

I am still me here undying ,
Judged from my peace when snoring .
That I am for one pictoring .

What I wear is problem  to all ,
What I eat is a disgrace to the wall 
For I am answering my greatest call.

I owe you no theory ,
I am the one whose heart is drained ,
Whose eyes are dried ,
Whose moods take charge ,
And I am telling you .
I didn't  choose this path ,
For my fate was choosen long before the birth of me .

Lost Memories

In the ebbing light 
She will call you 
winding to the sea
her chimes echoes 
for a well remembered life

As thought is to be brow
I will follow you
with the chiming wind

I really care
wont someone special really listen
The Friday home
like graded blues
dipping into the neon indecipherable

Grandpa Explains the Grading Scale

Grandpa’s barn held many secrets
We were cautioned to never open the boxes out there
We figured there were skulls and bodies in them.
When we were six we opened some

Found report cards but did not understand the A’s and B’s.
We were graded with S’s and G’s at the time. 
Took them to Grandpa who explained them this way.
A for awful, B for Bad, C for Correct, D for danged Good and F for fine.

Grandma had been an awful student!

The Renovator

Mega-buck ideas
are followed by sledge hammer schemes,
foundations and roof stripped
to the studs.

A posse of hard hats are bent on obeying 
her every command & whim
as they knock through walls,
bludgeon bathrooms into submission.

She has added me to her do-over list.
I am being up-graded
into something way less comfortable.
It seems I don't fit-in nor match
and the testy visionary regards me 
as far too shaggy to live here.

I’m having a dog house
built for myself.

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