NO FLEXIN/ Hip Spoken Word
Iconic slick rhymes/
trumpet beats sampled/
Latin soul grooves on Bronx Street/
No flexin’, just real 90's rap/
Hip hop flows into jazz, spoken word, soul/
jazz whispers into Afrobeats' ear/
a political word from Angela Davis and the Revolution speaks to Gil Scott Heron/
Nu jazz beats as congas play/
Bronx streets come alive with stickballs flying high/
Gil Scott’s voice/
singing for change that will never come/
a ghetto child,
runnin' wild/
hydrants spray/
cooling off the summer's day/
DJ BEND IN doin' his thing as the table spins/
John Lee's Hooker's blues N hip hop/
Hip hop and blues/ yeah that's right/
Thoughts flow free like a humming bee's sound/
Hip hop rap's musical notes make/
The Milky Way is a sound system for the universe/
underground hoops play for money and dope/
Miles does do bop on his trumpet/
tasty like a Mars candy bar/
do-wop, boom bap/
What a solid remix, man!
I'm diggin' on your track/
So, relax and kickback/
This is what It means to be free/
NO FLEXIN/ Word and Art/Tony Adamo
Iconic slick rhymes/
trumpet beats sampled/
Latin soul grooves on Bronx Street/
No flexin’, just real 90's rap/
Hip hop flows into jazz spoken word soul/
jazz whispers into Afrobeats ear/
a political word from Angela Davis and the Revolution speaks to Gil Scott Heron/
Nu jazz beats as congas play/
Bronx streets come alive with stickballs flying high/
Gil Scott’s voice/
singing for change that will never come/
a ghetto child,
runnin' wild/
hydrants spray/
cooling off the summer's day/
DJ BEND IN doin' his thing as the table spins/
John Lee's Hooker's blues N hip hop/
Hip hop and blues/ yeah that's right/
Thoughts flow free like a humming bee's sound/
Hip hop rap's musical notes make/
The Milky Way a sound system for the universe/
underground hoops play for money and dope/
Miles does do bop on his trumpet/
tasty like a Mars candy bar/
do-wop, boom bap/
what a solid remix, man!
I'm diggin' on your track/
So, relax and kickback/
This is what It means to be free/
Took my dead dog for a long walk today.
I like to think that some that passed by
glimpsed the whisk of her bushy tail
or heard her cheerful panting,
as she strained at the leash.
I was reading a book about Shelties,
how they were bred to be working dogs,
sheep herders,
and won’t ever be lapdogs.
Back home, both tuckered-out,
I glance down,
she is asleep already,
no doubt chasing my legs,
around a bunch
of lampposts and fire hydrants.
Two rust-red tubes running up the hillside,
by the wood's edge, hidden just in the trees,
they have water, and compressed air inside,
pumped up the mountain to hydrants steely.
Hoses conduct it to tall silver tubes,
snow guns that spray the white stuff on the trail,
coating brown grasses, hiding them from view,
building tall piles that some call snow-whales.
The groomers will come and flatten them out,
leave corduroy patterns on the long slope,
the skiers will come and race on a cloud,
they don’t like to wait when winter is slow.
One must be consistent in a business,
take five Mother Nature, we have got this.
verification to send soup mail is a pain in the tush ~ forsooth
counting fire hydrants, busses, bridges and bikes ~ no one in P S likes
Paws on the Avenue
Every afternoon ‘bout half past four
Paddy and I go out the door
No straying from our daily ritual.
Paws on Fido Avenue
Happy tails of sloppy kisses unmuzzled
Parade of canines – every kind “bone-i-fied.”
A purebred mutt strut cavalcade
Fashion parade of single coats
Long hairs march in pants
Yaps and barks and woofs
Howling hounds the moon
Canine panoply unleashed
Treats at every yard
Toys at every door
Red hydrants for pee-mail.
Delight rolls over
For belly rubs and tummy scratches
A loving pat upon the head.
No stray warm beds on winter nights
No puppies sleeping in the rain
No litter left abandoned scattered by the winds!
This march of conformation
Moves by happy gaits
Where even cats are welcomed in humane harmony.
Every afternoon ‘bout half past four
Paddy and I go out the door
For this our fantasy walk on Fido Avenue.
9-18-21
Contest: Avenue
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Haiku Three Verse Poem©
Avalon Hurricane Snowstorm
Twas nice to see folks
Of St. John’s, Mount Pearl, surrounds
Turn a hurricane
Snowstorm into a
Snow clearing activity
For everybody.
Shutins, fire hydrants,
Vehicles, drive and walkways
Were all cleared with cheer.
W.C.Hull © 2020-H1059-2170-I45-K45-3-L45-14
The Wait
I thirst for liquid gold
Will fall ill to it impure
It’s containments will wipe me clean
Those who steal it do me dirty
Pumping and extracting it from a well
Leaves me with whatever remains
Can’t complain
Can only wait
Illegal hydrants are destroyed
To turn back thieves
We knew of rain
Not of sewage, dirt and debris
Rivers have dried up
The land is barren
Able bodies purchase sweet water,
Bottled with minerals
And tankers fill their pools to capacity
Marckincia Jean
Narrative
06/10/19
Fire hydrants, fire trucks and firemen's faces
After they have been heated up
Chocolate heart boxes, and the prettiest roses
Some of the most fragrant tulips
Ruby jewelry, all sparkly and haughty
My favorite boots, my checkered shirt, my brick oven
An artist once told me without a splash of red, art is not art
I do not know about that, for I favor orange, which is red with the sun
Red umbrella with orange cats, red dog collar, red french fry holder
Valentines, and Santa Claus, Christmas stockings trimmed in green
Best of all, my mother's red stove in the early 60's
Which no one else bought because all other stoves were white
She did her whole kitchen in red and everyone loved it
Pizza Huts, and Christmas lights; all in reds.
Bulls and red hankies, clowns and red noses.
What would we do without red? How would we know to stop?
Frosted icicle ledges
Cold air surprises our noses
Hard diamond water forms ice
Asthmatics run for their inhalers
Dripping icicles forms well tipped arrows
Crystal spider webs of glass peeks from your windshield
Glistening blue-white quilt covers spring grasses
Evergreens wear their Snow hats and muffs proudly
Dainty snowflakes caught on tongues of children
Dainty perennials hide under their new heavy blankets,
Red hydrants turn into frosted candy-canes wearing white beanie.
Mystical magic surrounds Jack Frost’s handiwork.
Gay snowmen sports pink and green checked scarves,
stolen out of Mama’s closet.
Happy children, lying down in snow angel formation,
Older siblings, bribe younger sisters to stay home with hot chocolate while they go sledding.
Reluctantly take them with them, after their mothers discover their missing scarves.
Mothers stay home and enjoy hot chocolate.
Mystical magical winter.
Oh, the way you touch me!
Shivers down my spine as your firm
but loving grip sends my neck into frenzy
As you pull me to the ground, I willingly submit.
We roll, entwined, on the grass.
Your teeth, locked in steel jaw force,
sink further into my skin, I wince.
You release.
Your growl bespeaks your passion
and I growl in return, confirming our love.
Afterwards, as we shared your bone and
you drank from my water bowl
as I drank from yours,
I knew then, that we would be together forever,
dreaming of hydrants and balls and
biscuits and puppies of our own.
I love you!
Mad as loons in the midday heat
Hydrants open, oh the treat.
Screaming, laughing, splashing too
Bystanders enjoying the hullabaloo.
Joyous children having fun
Cooling off beneath the Sun,
Smiling faces, having a riot.
Parents wishing they could try it.
Entry for Hot Summer Day contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
14/9/2017
Hydrants open; the waters gush and flood
the burning road. The children cheer and run
in suits, to feel the flowing cold. While mom
and pop stand side by side, the neighbors prom-
enade, and Mary Jack and Adam splash,
as Becky cools her feet. The Conners dash
with flapping towels, into the flooded lane.
DeMarco tries his best to swim, but blames
the cobble stones. Beside a dirty bin,
a boy stands all alone. His cheeks are thin
and pale; he's almost skin and bone. His eyes
go wide, as little Leslie leaves the light
to take him by the hand, and leads him back
amongst her friends. We all remember Zack.
9-3-2017
The humidity of July makes sweat drip,
the unbearable heat frustrates everyone,
they stay cool and avoid the scorching sun.
The fire hydrants are open and kids
love the cold water splashing on their bodies;
grandmother sits in the shade of the ember tree
and wipes her wrinkled forehead and nags...
her wish might be realized as stormy clouds arrive.
" My roses are dying, and the grass
is turning yellow!" she complains...
" If it only rained steady for an hour! "
is her wish and it that might be realized.
Arounf four o' clock, a whirlwind wind
blows off her straw hat, grandma realises
a storm is coming soon and warning
her grandchildren, " Get out of the water! "
The playful kids hesitate to leave but obeying
they go inside, jim shouted," It's getting awfully dark! "
a loud thunder shakes the entire house, kids
get closr to grandma fearing the fury of the storm.
Written on 9/2/2017
Batteries Not Included
They sit – idle memories – languishing
crusted filth - a city’s weeping gutters.
Detritus of fast food disposal clings
to scentless bloodied thorns of tear soaked rose,
future maple trees sailing sewer bound,
adrift on a city’s polluted dreams.
Yellow lights a-swirl on oil slickened streets
highlight a scrawny stalking alley cat
sad mime back arched on a red brick facade.
Cold shush of tires on icy pavement
hissing at the joy of dancing snowflakes,
chilled chatter of recycling’s shopping carts.
Barrier reefs of soft restaurant lights
deflect the silent hardness of the night.
Wet dogs shiver in the blue cell phone light,
taut leashes battling absent owners
check for “Pee-mail” on “Face Book” fire hydrants.
Puddles torment the feet of passersby,
tempting the feet of children and adults
dampening the spirits of the homeless.
Gutters, siphoning off a city’s soul,
seeking salvation from a moonless night
in search of a coldly distant sunrise.
12/27/2016
submitted to – Form – B – Poetry Contest
Sub Categories
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