12/20/20
PARTY FOLK poetry contest
Sponser-Julia Ward
Shut up
Please
All of you party animals
Howling at the golden moon
Like your wishing for it
To howl right back
Your open laughter
Grates on my nerves
Maybe I'm cynical
But I hate it here
So why did I come
I guess I needed an out
I'm stuck at home constantly
With no chance to escape
The four walls that now dampen my life
Maybe I'm jealous
That you're all deliriously happy
Laughing like maniacs into the night
While I'm stuck
In a conversation I don't want to be in
I think I am jealous
Maybe I'll go over
And say hello to you guys
Maybe I can change the way
The night will turn out
But at the pace it's going
I don't think I can
However
I still have time to laugh.
The ticking of the clock
sounds out in the silence,
spreading awareness that time goes on.
Each tick,
each tock,
grates on my nerves
with a passion unfurled.
Stillness pens a solitary tune
deep into my being
and all I can hear is
the night deciding my fate.
A speck of dust has not moved
from its slumber on the wall,
though I’ve categorized its very existence
in the moonlight.
Each cricket outside my window
titters at my misery,
content to stay stationary
as the world passes them by.
Darkness, my companion
though never a solace,
seeks me out every evening
until light breaks through
and I’m out of the shadows again.
What are we without Hope?
She sings to us pleasantly
Melodies of dream
She whispers to us sweetly
Driving us to
Our knees
Hope plays instruments
Of flesh and bone
Picking the strings
As time grates on
An ensemble of fish and line
Hope is a huntress
A rabbit ensnared
Lured by scent
Of blaze orange salvation
A truly deceiving mistress
Is Hope
I bought a brand-new teapot
And it has a whistling spout.
It informs me that it’s ready
As the steam comes pouring out.
When the whistle comes in handy
Is if I am out of sight
And forget the water’s boiling
Which, of course, you know I might.
It’s a nifty little feature
When a kettle can alert;
Thus, some danger in the kitchen
It can help me to avert.
Though the whistle is annoying
And it grates on all my nerves,
Still, I hope that its inventor
Gets the credit he deserves.
What if I put up a blog, or comment about politics.
What if it grates on your soul, in your craw it sticks.
But you think I’m a pretty nice guy, otherwise OK.
You want to support my blog not look the other way.
For the life of you, you find you just can not do it.
You just can’t raise the words from a bottomless pit.
What kind of person am I to put you through all this?
Surely no friend would plead to such thoughtlessness.
There are places on the net for one who is in need,
of venting the poison which in so many mouths feed.
Take your place in history, record your verbal feat.
May you be recognized and valued by all you greet.
Just leave the soup blogs free from political agenda.
Don’t rankle and debate the many political referenda.
Don’t ire the quiet multitude reading your dilemma.
Lest someone go bonkers with a little Iwo Jima.
No matter which side you are on.
No matter you brag or complain.
Someone is always offended.
Please, lets keep politics off the blogs.
Sept 28 2010 Charles Henderson