They kill, children
A hum of silence met me
Dead babies everywhere like dolls on the filthy carpet
a lone soldier guarded the ghastly scene
looked stunned and dazed, said we had to do this
they are the enemy of tomorrow
a man in a protective suit and mask came in
spraying white snow like powder, covering the horror
body fluid ran out of me and covered the floor
an ice rink of sin
I was drowning, but how to swim in this torrent
of sweat coming out of every poor
The soldier who had shot the children shot himself
the man in his protective suit said he was weak, not
the type of soldiers we need
The dead children, they would have become Hamas
of the future
Lethargy and helplessness
My inaction had condemned me for all time
the morning sun refused to shine over this devastation
Forever, we have to struggle in a fog of depravity
Ice dancing is enchanting
Wonderful and incredible
It requires total dedication
To achieve perfect harmony
There are many exhausting
Rehearsals and tiring executions
On the acting itself on ice rink
They are like birds flying free
A beautiful art representation
Often synchronised with rhythmic
Motion of emotions and grace dancing
In accompanying soulful music theme
The audience see the whole impact
And every round about ordeal of action
Is not exempted in the scrutiny of the jury
The winner is crown the darling of the moment
And the most spectacular in all captured lens
But the glory of them all is one that does
The totality of those actors in the rink
Whose dedication and aspiration is unmatched
The expertise in their craft with love unreserved.
"Ice" - a name given to an ice rink nearby.
Boys meet nice girls there and say "Hi!"
They pay at the till, then hone their skill,
After, that is, the warm-up drill.
Some of the boys are world-class, they say,
But it's wishful thinking - "what's that... hey?"
It's only a local place, "not on the map"...
They can't be world class with a zip or a zap.
The two hours over, they then go away,
Some to close friends where they're invited to stay.
"See you next time!" say the boys who said "Hi".
"Okay" say the girls, "See you, boys... Right, 'bye!"
3/1/2023
Contest - Writing Challenge - 'I' Words
Sponsor - Constance La France
2nd place win
It numbs my hands
It frosts my soul
Plays with my head
This wicked cold
I'm petrified, angry
Frozen, can't think
Thoughts spin in circles
A mental ice rink
I want you to warm me
To melt in my skin
Climb over my glaciers
Heat me with sin
Please hurry come burn me
A storm's to unfold
Flame me, save me
From this cruel wicked cold.
Welcome winter month into my little haven of dreams and joy
your rouge cheeks and your fresh air kisses will do us all good
Let me worship in your ice rink of fun and chatter with my friends
while I sip on cocoa from a foam cup and share a story or two...
Winter tide greetings from Jack Frost is always a warm embrace
when it comes from the heart, we neve tire of the lit up snow
Sunshine loves to shine especially on a cold cold day, and we
are the lucky captives of lovely rays, each time we put our faces
up to the beautiful ice blue sky.
Hospitable season that you are you are generous with inventive games
such as ice skating, sledding, skiing and angel making techniques,
Oh let us not forget ice fishing for those wonderful sportsmen
who love to fish...
I welcome you winter, dressed to the nines with wooly attire
the only thing you do to me dear January, is inspire to aspire.
Pretending can be a bold form of experimentation
and inventiveness. In pretending joy or happiness,
we may discover or enhance our capacity for it.
Harriet Lerner
Lord Leofric: The waging of war is man’s affair
Lady Godiva: Then wage war in your way, M’Lord,
and I’ll wage war in mine
Movie, Lady Godiva of Coventry (1955)
MASQUERADE
Quivers the man traversing the icescape.
Queen dominates the saddle with her eyes.
Size five, bare, narrow feet melt snowy floor.
Masquerade - his wife dreamy in disguise.
Flesh, smooth as ice rink, after zamboni.
Warm hearth behind the seven veils of d’sire.
Godiva tresses descend to her knees.
Bright red lips, parting flames, a flute of fire.
Singes where cherry makes contact...shivers
and moans like Winter Nor’easter through trees.
Memories malleable — tongue to ink.
Lobe, neck, thighs surrender to cold night tease.
Quiet warmth underneath the satin sheets.
His eyes wide open - concedes his defeat.
2/1/2021
Sensual Poetry
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
HMS Line 1 lists icescape as 3 syllables but it is 2
Slug letters in love,
Worms in a lurch,
Failing to match my own mark.
Each penning a bluff,
A skull-twistic irk,
Like landscaping turds in a car-park.
But shock! Some light! We simmer simile, and Cat at that cunning Rat, Rhyme -
And that ice rink sketched, with wretched wurds, looks sudd -ernly - utt -erly -
sublime.
like piano doves
like silver birch
like yanging ying - light loving dark
like books far above
from a planetary perch
look to copy proper Plato, who copies Cooper Clarke.
Mermaids in a lake
It is hot today I try to write
words are like wet cement in a ditch
covering empty cola cans thrown from cars
by careless drivers who care not for nature.
ABC full stop.
I stood by the entrance in the shade someone
asked if I was the porter, I smiled benignly
didn´t get upset after all I´m working class.
Had they asked me if I was the director
I might have been less inclined to smile.
I miss my home it is near a forest with a lake
mermaids swim there and have proper feet.
Once I swam with them a dream come true
when it is winter, and the lake is like an ice rink
I skate around and around until I get dizzy and fall
into a trance the dream of mermaids
revive me. I walk home in silence.
PAIN OF PAINS
Imagine love long last with plainly progressive pain
No long thug years without some stains
Timely trying to break through like in chains
Living a fast lanner, although like a stranger
Hostile heart plots me the right tactics to aim her
With the pain and aches of wasted blood
Got to be a Shylock after emerging from the stitches
Making an insidious being even to a loved one
And making a vigilant sinner out of thee
Having to say anxious prayers on frigid knees
The smell of fury and revenge is in the air
And even the whirlwind struggles to blow it away
Snaringly beckoning on thee as an apparition
Like Makavelli and Tupac, the ghost will last;
The ghost of a sinner's past.
Make my arms start to froze, eyes open, mouth start to ooze
Turning the beholder into ice-rink from head to toe
Even after taking peaceful doze
The mind still eventually goes...
Back from living dead,cold coming turns heart into stones
Which breed and sparks torment of thy soul
Never strong enough to equal the pain of pains.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2013
The office Desk.
The office desk made of solid oak
And the top was shiny as an ice-rink before showtime.
It is not shiny no more, coffee stains and drops of mysterious
Substances, could it be wine?
This desk was once where a judge sat condemning people
To hang if they didn’t conform to the politics of
The dictatorship spoke about democracy and other words
Of treason.
The drawers on the desk are full of unpublished manuscripts
And will be so forever, after all, they have had the distinction
Of being written, what more is there to ask?
When i was young
Drinking coke mixed with Cream Soda
And speed skating on horizon ice rink
Popcorn slush puppies hot dog's
At the Drive Inn
How the mind work's
And takes me back
I believe
Strong in the mystery
Trying to run away
From the problems at home
I never understood back then
Until much later on in my life
I couldn't handle the truth
And still to this day can't
I run
I ran
I tried my best to run away
Only to find my way back where
To where i began
The only difference is now
I know what i am still running from
And from insanity i can't escape
It is the only shape and form
In which i fit
It is my glove
My shoe
My comfort blanket
I am the son of an alcoholic
Monkey see monkey doo
They kill children too
A hum of silence met me
Dead babies everywhere like dolls on a filthy carpet.
A lone soldier guarded the scene
He looked stunned and dazed and said, we had to do it
They are the enemies of tomorrow.
A man in a protective suit and mask came spraying
White snow like power covering the scene.
Cheer up, he said, comfortable for you to say, said the soldier
You didn’t have to make the killing.
Bodily fluid ran out of me, covered the bedroom floor
An ice-rink of sin.
I was drowning but how to swim in this torrent
Of sweat coming out of every pore.
A shot the soldier shot himself after the deed life was meaningless.
The man in the protective suit and mask giggled and said
He was not strong enough couldn’t see he was doing his duty.
Children are our enemy and if allowed to live would come
And kill us in the future.
Lethargy and helplessness.
My inaction had condemned me for all time.
Morning.
A has of devastation stopped the sun from shining it refused
To lit up death, and forever we had to struggle in a fog of depravity.
Oh, I heard the most humongous crash on my deck.
Ran to get my fluffy robe to see, what the heck?
Opened my door and nearly went blind,
To behold a fairyland ice rink, so welcoming and kind.
I ran back into the house for my skates and appropriate dress.
I wanted to skate on that sparkling deck with gracious finesse!
I did figure eights, toe loops and twizzles,
My blood felt so magical,in fact it fizzled!
This indeed, such a wondrous treat.
I felt God blessed me with a Gold Medalist's glorious feet.
It was the most beautiful dream I ever had.
Being Young, so masterful and truly agile again!
Panagiota Romios
4/16/2019
Where does March go?
On a grand exotic cruise ship, you think?
Or to skate in a lovely rainbow-colored ice rink?
Perchance, living in the mysterious twilight zone,
Or into a glorious, palatial home of her very own?
I seek here no scientific answer or treatise,
Just a poet's blooming, dream-filled premise.
As to where our Miss March is going,
Suddenly, brilliantly~her moonlight streaming!
Adieux, March.
Panagiota Romios
3/31/2019
There was a girly landlubber in pink
Who to a burly fisherman was linked --
Not a swimmer, she sank
In his great big fishtank --
Now in winter she's a frozen ice rink
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