I want to know what brand of fake beef the cook
Uses for this feef stirfry.
Plant Pioneers -
They’re originally balls.
The feef in the sweet & sour is homemade.
I’m drinking a diet cola I didn’t buy here.
But to be fair, all that is left in terms of drinks for sale here
Is water.
To try make the stirfry & noodles last,
I’m writing & using chopsticks & writing.
I piled up the large help yourself buffet box as high as I could without food spilling on the counter,
But I am still hungry & have almost finished it -
It’s like cuddling a close friend made out of food
That will fall from my arms back into the Wok
So the food never goes cold.
Only in the lead up to Christmas can a food friend
Cooling into frost
Be friendly.
I’ll buy cold berries from the market for the Shoebox Christmas party.
& Even among soy sauce tossed broccoli,
There’s a place for plain cucumber chunks.
Having finished eating,
Imma sit here for another twenty minutes
& Order another buffet boxful if I’m then still hungry.
I am currently hungrier than when I started.
I should save some cola for the potential second portion.
A man whose eyes seem distant and cold
takes me on a journey through history
with thoughts of wonder and interest
leaving me with more questions than answers
about his life, his dreams
there's a profound sadness in his picture
and a sense of pride
he's dressed in his Civil War uniform
from the Massachusetts 13th infantry
standing in front of a cabin with a porch
and a couple of rocking chairs
off to his right is a well with its bucket
a hound dog lays at his feet
stones in the ground placed like a sidewalk
lead up to his boots
below the picture sits a creaky old rocking chair
where I sit to rock back and forth
while thinking about my great-grandfather
who survived Gettysburg, Antietam, Fredericksburg
and other battles is why I am here
Dear LORD, I contemplate Your greatness
I am in awe of Your majesty
The exquisite detail in all things
To live in Your powerful harmony
As I walk in the November woods
Where tree limbs have become barren of leaves
And the ground crunches with ev'ry step--
There a mystery dwells, I perceive
One is surrounded by the darkness
Making the way unclear and risky
As paths lead up and down rocky hills
I dodge thin arms of wood all scratchy
Yet, I look upward to see color
Sunlight highlighting golden-red leaves
The blue sky contrasts the tree's silhouette
Revealing your dear love - I believe
Oh! The way may be dark and dreary
With scratches along rough hilly slopes
But there is beauty underfoot with
Light above to guide with peace and hope
-Evelyn Pearl Anderson
Hot air should be used for steaming
Or around clouds when your dreaming
But not coming out of you
Making you sound like a fool
Thinking you are smarter than
All your family and your friends
Their starting to realize
Your words just lead up to lies
Getting worse and worse each day
With every single thing you say
And your actions are not cool
Walking around just like you rule
Putting other people down
Someone should give you a crown
Proclaiming you the king of jerks
Nothing we do ever works
To pull you off your mighty throne
Someday you will be alone
And you'll wonder why you lost
All the subjects in your court
With no one around to see
Your foolish stupidity
I
Like a
Lead up to
A story end-
Ing that will give me
Hope for the future. And
The best ones I can think of
Are stories read in the middle
Of the winter that have anything
To do with the great hot month of July.
III
III
III
III
Thank you
Simply just
2 words
Proceeding each other
In succession
But equally
Both revered
By saying them
&
Hearing them
So here's a
Thank you
Thanking you
Especially just for you
For taking your most precious of time out
To click and read this poem of mine
Written and posted here online
You yourself the willing reader
In spaghetti word soup sorcery
For the one and only purpose
Of uttering the line words and verse
that say
Thank you
Isn't it getting harder by the day
To supposedly know or try to figure out
Exactly who or what to believe
To the point it's just as easy now to say
Genie
Meany
Curly
Mo
So many choices but which 1 exactly
should I take or make , in order for me
then to follow
The Rule's
The Guidelines
Or
The Example being Set
All 3 are a gamble the only
difference is the odds they give
And whether or not you are prepared
at the end of the day
To suffer and live with the eventual
consequences of the bad choices you
make lead up to
Even be that debt to be repaid spelled
out in no uncertain terms spell's this
R
E
G
R
E
T
I first saw Snakey in my flower garden.
I had moved a large rock and he was curled up under it.
There were some beautiful X’s in his pattern.
I did not want to know if there was a rattle on his bum.
So I put the rock back and let him continue his slumber.
The next time I saw Snakey, he was slithering in the yard.
He had dashed around the base of a walnut tree.
Going fast, traveling for what reason? Was he after a mouse?
I watched, but could not see at this distance.
I am pretty sure it was the same snake. Tan with a bit of yellow.
About a week later I found Snakey at the top of my concrete steps
They are in my side yard which lead up to my second garden.
It was a sunny day. He was curled up in a fetal position, soaking up rays.
I decided to go a different way that day.
I was not afraid, but he looked incredibly comfortable.
I did not want to disturb him.
It's this time of year that speaks
through all the seasons lead up to
this festive season marks God's love
who came here tells us what to do
But mankind thinks he knows better
filling his life with self all the more
acts like knowing all there is
but is blind to know heavens door
The real story of Christmas time
God has revealed Himself in His son
for Jesus came as a babe
to live on earth proving love has won
God promised a saviour to come
to bring salvation and banish sin
this Jesus atoned on Calvary's tree
shedding His blood redeemed to win
Is Christ in your Christmas?
God has given Christ to save you
make sure He's your perfect Christmas
then His peace makes you brand new
Violets dance next to path that needs weeding
Fuchsia flox in hot pink is grown there from seedling
My red brick pathway needs plenty of attention
Purple lilac tree practically too beautiful to mention.
Steps lead up to my three bushes, Rose of Sharon.
The mums are all dried up, not loved by me, Caren.
Sunny yellow daffodils along my garden gate
And a pink tulip tree that is truly first rate.
The scent of lilacs is overwhelming,
A movie crew should actually be filming.
Along the edge are verdant soldier ferns
Prancing next to my crimson tulips, taking tiny turns.
I love my yard from beginning to end.
I feel so proud when I bring home a friend.
A place where raccoons come to spend the night.
Attract deer too with their hooves so light.
I cannot say enough about my back yard.
I have worked diligently, planting extra hard.
The sun and God have done their fair share too.
It is a paradise for me, and the rabbits too.
A footprint
is a fragment of a chapter
in the journeys of people
as one's feet act like a pen
to write their story while they walk
in order for every step and minute detail
to lead up to the completion
of building one's palace
that would be remembered for countless centuries
Five Beginnings
“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do next.”
Loveless, we sat down together to our evening meal.
It wasn’t until I collect by bag at the airport that I realised I didn’t love him anymore.
The fridge started to gurgle.
He let me stroke his hair, unlike my daughter who enjoyed my attention and touch.
with one of these Five Middles
He knew it as well as I did that we hadn’t laughed in a long, long time.
I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I just can’t wake to another day of the mundane.
“You really are the spitting image of him” I said, whilst straightening his tie and top button.
Bang.
Five years ago, I never would have predicted that this would have been my life.
could lead up to which of these Fives Endings?
I mean, the obituary in the newspaper didn’t even get the date that she died correct.
All was well now.
In hindsight, I just should not have said that I would.
He faltered, like a new born calf taking its first slippy steps.
“This is what it’s all been leading up to.”
Life is the experience that you just don't get
So bittersweet with all of the love and hate mixed together
Can't seem to get the respect
Seeing without looking hard enough to see that truth
Getting that fulfilled feeling you can't replace
The longing for liberation
For the sweet taste of freedom
Wisdom escapes your grasp
You better hope all of this lasts
One single moment of happiness
One simple truth
There's no win or lose
No final hour
Life is the experience that you just don't forget
The hours,the days ,the weeks and all of the years
That lead up to your life
The magnificent colours you have allowed out into the world
The Little bits of you
Hold on to the pain
Jaded now blue
Let the grief hollow out your heart
Setting you free
Remember about the unknown greats you never got to be
All of the things you never could show
The empty promises made
All of your words start to fade
The dreams have died
You let it slip you let is subside
Turn all of your emotions inside out
Take a breath
Let the healing start
Life is the experience you just must start
Church bells ringing throughout the land
Summoning those who hear
Up to that stone building on the hill
To hear stories and news from far and near
The feet do chatter upon the steps
That lead up to that great door
Once a week they all gather here
Yes, they keep coming back for more
The one is dressed in parochial attire
Leads the followers in song
Inside this structure of serenity
That has served it's people so long
And in the grounds the elders lie
Complete with heads of stone
Some have lain for decades here
They listen, but never moan
People come and people go
But the church remains forever
Occupying it's place on Holy ground
In a way a kind of spiritual lever
The birds that nest within the eaves
Show reverance to the Chief
In choosing here to roost and breed
A kind of ornithological belief
So once again the week begins
All shoulders to the wheel
To earn essential currency
And to provide the daily meal
Let me tell you about my fear . . .
I keep having the same horrible, fearful dream each night-
It is snowing and I am driving my old car;
and I have miles to go,
when my car slides and crashes . . .
I see a house not far, dim against the sky,
reaching it, I knock on the door then I open it;
it is pitch black inside and seems to be abandoned,
(I groan in my sleep) . . .
Ahead are stairs that lead up,
at the top are dark hallways;
with faded wallpaper and no windows but doors,
and each door I try opening- is locked;
(were there not windows on the outside?)
I am scared of the darkness and quiet,
soon, I am lost in a maze of dark hallways.
Running down halls that go nowhere- each a dead end;
no door opens, and the hallways just go on and on . . .
I am lost in this house,
and I am so tired- tired;
I fall on a dirty, threadbare rug and I sleep,
waking in the morn' in my bed with the lights on.
_____________________
September 16, 2017
Narrative/PHOBIA: Fear Of Old Houses
Copyright Protected, ID 940165
Written for the contest, Fear II
sponsor, Debbie Guzzi
Sixth Place
Sub Categories
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