I’ve only desired to light old lamps with young wicks
(the tongues of flame must be blinking hard with vigilance)
Across dark, mildewed alcoves that smell of ink —her writing ink —
But one thing led to the other, and the ink I
Found froze in my eyes, the bottle instantly petrified among desert ruins.
I searched, from my village to Nantucket, borrowing
The courage of voyaging storms, seeking earnestly her quill feather,
Just to caress her pretty face with it.
But the power of distance arrested me midway and warned me
Of the dangers of costly adventures.
I hankered after a trained parrot —an amanuenses of note—
With less brilliant plumage,
Electrifying elocution,
To detect to me the protocols of her language.
But that, too, failed.
The parrot was either born mute or chose to be.
I did all I could? to seek, to find, to locate, to identify items
Belonging to her —bric-a-brac of a telling age.
And then there were none.
All dressed up for the Spring parade,
he hankered for an escapade.
Can he do it? Don't think he can't!
He thought to bring a lubricant.
He won't suffer a bumpy ride.
Lubricant allows him to slide.
Who is this guy who leaves a trail?
Of course, my friend, he is the snail.
~ A Lighthearted Look at Cheating on Keeping Kosher ~
Pick my poison, shrimp or pork
closed my eyes, lowered my fork
I’d hankered for that suckling pig
but I tasted shrimp, and couldn’t renege
Lightning didn’t strike me, I did a jig
of the (shrimp) cocktail, I took a swig
Upon awakening, my stomach was rent asunder
Hmm. I'd evaded the lightning ~ but not the thunder
____________________________________________
Sometimes older Jews tell young'uns that if they eat
pork, they'll be struck by lightning... Seems they
should mention shrimp and other non-kosher fare too!
The cabin hankered for a story.
They had not had one for a couple of months.
Grandpa chair was tired of feeling the cabin’s discontent.
He came alive and began telling ghost stories.
They were better than any the humans had ever told.
The cabin was satisfied, and grandpa chair was fulfilled.
Keeping up the façade throughout the winter months.
Mum about it when the humans returned in the summer.
Dying for them to leave, so they could resume the best stories in the fall.
Once There Was A Love
Once there was love between us!
Two wobbling hearts came close,
hankered for red rose.
Seeds of love sown.
Stem of passion grown up
Root of emotion sank deep piercing heart.
Once there was love between us!
Bubbling blood flooded life in rapture.
We captured ethereal ecstasy.
Me not alert when knot of love slackened.
But alarmed when you are gone
leaving me alone.
Accepted you as my life partner
Not at all prepared for this devastation
Only one complain:
How could you forget! You have won my heart!
Once there was love between us!
Now ocean of separation thrashing waves of dolor.
10/23/22
Inspired by the song ‘ Once there was a love…
First Place
Contest by. JCB Brul
LIKE A CHILD
Since childhood I am blowing balloons to release in air and picking pebbles
on stream strand and sandy sea shore, chattering chirping ceaseless like cheerful birds, seeking wisdom from tales, stories, fables.
In last phase I realised Life as game of cards. I have blown airy balloons of
dreamy desires. I had sown seeds of ambition in soil of illusive dream.I built castles sure to be perishables. Whichever I started I am convinced that End is inevitable. Child in me always hankered for toys of passion.
Pebbles I collected shined, sparkled, glistened to be gems of recognition dazzling my look and ultimately made me puzzled. Once successes or emotions seemed peerless. Life long achievements all memorable I cherished in core of my heart. Cycle of Life and Death will wipe off everything ruthless.
Like a child I have played in Past am playing at Present and will have to play in Future in this unknown zone of Cosmos.
like a child to run
purposeless in maize of life
seeking gems in stones.
07/16/22
Hankered after plump pouting lips
Surgery the answer read all the tips
Now I'm a cartoon~think Donald Duck
Opening my mouth with horror I cluck.
Light Verse No:2
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by
L. Milton Hankins
10/09/2021
COMING BACK HOME
Call of career compelled to go abroad, carrying confusion.
Onward progress permitted no limitation.
Memories, reminiscences in series only to ruminate.
Inevitable detachment from homely ambient.
Nostalgia pricked pierced painful heart.
Grieved to get uprooted from familiar soil.
Bird yearned to fly free frolic, soaring high.
Ambition pulled me far away surpassing sentiment.
Carefree endeavor did not allow home sickness.
Key of success to access, I fled from home.
Humble heart hankered for heroic achievement.
Ocean fathomless waited to be explored.
Most important to touch summit of my goal.
End of journey rejoiced coming back home.
03/02/21
Coming Back Home Contest by John Hamilton
The days when women stayed at home and worked
From dawn to night,
Played roles of
Model
Wives
She
Hankered
For respect
But was shown none;
Instead in silence suffered his abuse.
--------------------------------------
Picture 2
Double Tetractys poetry 6 Contest
10, 4, 3, 2, 1 - 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 syls.
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Placed 2nd
1st December 2020
there was a punctured potter
whose wills strained shuffled shudders
meagre muds moistened massive moans
dark traces drooled, gaunt glows
hoisted zeal hankered hampers:
eerie efforts pruned pulpy pesters
lanky labour leered, futility feigned lame
crushed contractions, callous confetti's crave
damp death drilled his plague
sumptuous suck, nosy nectar's crest
potter birthed a son,a generation then another son
whilst masticated malady mimicked, poring pawns
the keener he carved a shape,
soaring swifter contractors come for claims.
'20:05:21:17:26
Note: of punctured potter.
draped zeal dripped
smoggy crest clipped
callous crest squashed
training taunted trance
felon feelings fiery
licking lanky crisp
punctured passion pressed
met mystic press
moaning pressed' press
haughty zeal hankered
sane seal smothered
voluptuous veil angered
porous pasts absorbed
moaning memories' throb.
'20:03:14:11:26
Note: Dedicated to Socrates.
Deep in the heart of Ireland there runs
A dark belief the future rests on guns
In the midst of a riot in the city of Derry
That sinister undercurrent was in play
It was then that Lyra, just doing her job
Took snaps to record the rioting mob.
Here was a promising young reporter
Whom many a paper hankered after
Yet a single bullet from an illicit gun
Ended a career so bravely begun.
This innocent target felled by a single shot
Became the shadowy gunman's scabrous blot
For out of that Good Friday's grim testament
There has grown full community agreement
That terrorists must never again stalk the land
To dismantle the dialogue of peace long since planned.
Out of the ashes , we hope , of the martyrdom of Lyra McKee
Will Ireland from vile and callous terrorism be now set free.
FIGHT FOR FREEDOM
Journey of life under recurrent restriction.
Hindrances at random, freedom seldom,
traversing on constriction in chained channel,
running and tumbling in dark tunnel.
Always hankered for a glimpse of luminosity of freedom.
Fought for freedom since childhood,
attaining teen-age transcending maturity.
Imprisoned in social stigma,
dominated by domestic dogma
confined in destined adversity.
Competence, intelligence, diligence helped to acquire freedom.
In last phase captivated with inevitable physical limitations.
Losing confidence, spending gloomy days in indolence.
Not to cultivate new venture in free access.
Now, whether captured or free matters a little.
Freedom to nothing or to something is hard to discriminate.
Fight for freedom has turned purposeless.
04/05/19
'All Yours ( Jan 28 ) Contest by Brian Strand
A subtle march hush saddles the valley
whilst dawn’s reveille is the seagulls call
staid water’s brim against ancient galley
once flew the ensign how the mighty fall.
For here she lie ‘o’ top of salty graves
where wretched souls ne’er see another day
their silver horizon the restless waves
that howls the sirens song of doubtful bay.
Long gone the storm the cries of emotion
of those whom hankered for a better life
yet still the tempest doth rule the ocean
to take at will the rights of man and wife.
Gone the prisoners of her majesty
damned to the colonies over the sea
the bay holds no bars grants them amnesty
their spirits to roam the ocean floor free.
There’s no one left to wail or shed a tear
to pen a shanty of that tragic hour
nor weave a poem of hysterical fear
build a monolith a marble tower.
21/06/2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Pa hankered cheeses of every kind.
Alas, it placed him in a painful bind!
"For fast relief", said his wife,
"Plumber's snakes should ease yer strife!"
"No thanks! I'll use Ex-Lax for my behind!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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