Long After hours Poems

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Spring Equinox 2018

this middle aged rue stirring bummer
   haint no stranger to cold,
when dark hen stormy wintry days
   eggs hit from Arctic portal en fold
ding Atlantic Seaboard

   in a blizzard of bitterly, blindingly, and
   brutally sub zero temperatures
   from an occasional nor'easter
   fiercely gripping hold

the majority years, sans this prolific
   recalcitrant scrivener lived
   in various and sundry abode
   housed within Southeastern
   Montgomery County, Pennsylvania
   with 19*** zip code,

and during my boyhood recall,
   how massive ice sheets did erode
the (then) opened expansive farmland,
   in preparation for planting time,

   where runnels of frigid water flowed
with childish cheeks exposed to glowed
after hours upon 
   many a green acre got tilled and hoed

despite feeling energized and refreshed
   with arms and legs n'er fro zen
aye didst eagerly await with exuberant yen
kickstarting thy body electric

   experiencing hearthstone nook
   designed and built by Christopher Wren
after heading indoors counting fingers
   and toes to make sure, i still got ten

soon hearing the chorus of fauna,
   and floral kaleidoscope of color 
   aground or taking wing
thus, upon thawing out thoughts
   drifted toward approaching spring,
the season revitalizing 

   dormant natural inhabitants,
   whose excite (like mine) didst ping
announcing the debut of fecundity
nsync with screeching from the lizard king.

This Spring Equinox (i.e. man date:
   12:15 PM Tuesday,
   March twentieth two thousand eighteen)
doth rejuvenate 
   inviolable hibernating animals

   and plants, and me equate
to experience sensation,
   whereby entire being does inflate
and (despite marital status),

   nonetheless envisions another gal asthma mate
no...no...no...please do not think this chap
   mean spirited and under rate
the woman (at present taking a siesta,

   and i breathe easy),
   who oft times doth henpeck, a trait
inherited many a chic hen
   (with tantalizing tail feathers)
   now (until she awakens)
   proscribing yours truly to wait

for my repast most likely ad hoc
moist ideal for any nerdy kid to knock
senseless, the worst facet of self important jock
   consisting of pop slop mock
Hungarian Goulash, a melange
   of relics from age old meals 
   transformed into a petrified sawed little rock.


Lord, I Thank You For Your Word

The atmosphere is electric,
There is music in de air,
Drinks at the bar are flowing
I, in de latest gear
Opportunity for sex on the horizon
I'll pick up a guy or two
It's time I start to live my life,
Enjoy de things I do
After hours on de dance floor and liquor that can't done
I still felt the emptiness which follows this type of short-lived fun.
As I sat and pondered, it all came back and hit me like a tone
God's word says sin indeed has pleasure, but only for a season
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
 
That is one scenario, I have at least another two.
Which clearly paints the role God's Word plays in everything we do.
Broke to de bone not a cent to my name
The baby crying and the bailiff here to make me shame
I was hungry and hurting with nowhere to go
Cause I had already begged all de people I know
I dropped down on de floor and poured my heart out to heaven
Then God's word spoke clear '... ask and it shall be given'
Almost instantly a knock was heard
God had moved my neighbor's heart to completely fill my cupboard
It's times like these my gratitude would very clearly be heard
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
 
Girl you look like a zip when you turn to de side
If I had a face like yours I'd be sure to hide
Stick and stone may break my bones but words would paralyze me
My spirit is wounded and my self-worth 's low as could be
People judge me not based on who I am inside
But simply on what they see
Maybe I should end my life and put a stop to this
But God's Word came almost audibly - one I couldn't miss
Child, you are fearfully and wonderfully made
Known before the beginning of time
All your members were written in my book while yet undefined
I marveled at God's grace and His love for me
Then could not help but raise my voice
And say more confidently
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
 
Lord, I cannot thank you enough for all the things You do
For Your Word which is ever powerful has been proven to be true
Inspired by You completely and used to bring out in us the best
For doctrine, reproof, correction, instruction in righteousness
You said if I hide it in my heart, it's sure to keep me from sin
And that success is guaranteed if I do all that is written therein
When I give thought to all these truths
I have to let my voice be heard
And conclude by saying again
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!!!
Form: Rhyme

Virtual Life Metrics

I spend time with a friend 
well, a pseudo-friend 
an acquaintance of sorts 
no, I guess he'd be a friend, 
****, who knows 
one of those types you never really share your heart 
that authentic trembling you 
I guess 
he's more like a radio station 
on a long lonely road trip in the night 
or late night cable when the kids have left 
a thousand channels 
bright flickering nothing 
we meet after hours in the deepest of dives 
I just sit, listen, 
curl myself into that hunching shape 
looking like someone piled old laundry on a stool 
and act as chaperone 
an escort of sorts, you know, like those fresh faced kids in college 
earning some bucks walking lifesize cartoons around for pictures 
and with a bar top slap, I know he's got one, he's revved up 
a steampunk machine running on old rye and spasms 
"know this! I have faith in our sacred family values, our brave military and our cellular plans!" 
(it's hard to not chuckle a bit, enjoy the aerating effect a good laugh does to spirits and your pallet, just avoid aspirating too much or you bellow and cough like an amateur drinker, good god don't show weakness in a place like this or the crows will circle and I swear the shadows lengthen under the bar)
most times, as I sit next to him, removed from his sphere 
detached observer that I always find myself 
I notice he talks to that small sliver of himself seen between the dirty glasses 
piled up against the old mirror with faded silvering 
and the blackened spots frame his face 
like an old time picture 
representing a vast loneliness of a nation 
this goddamn solitude we find in crowded rooms 
"My opponent here is working with Chilean miners, violent video game makers and angry chefs, goddammit" 
once curse words are added, we'll be on our way soon
the barkeep's tips weren't that big
and the mutterings from the corners are beginning 
as his outbursts begin to chisel into the hazy bubbles of regulars
I pull him out into the night 
away from cheap wine and leaded glass 
red faced, blustering, 
cool air confusing him for a moment 
and, lightswitched, he walks with a purpose, 
back to the maindrag and streetlights, 
calling it a night with a wave and one last holler: 
"I want an America where Somali pirates and Rupert Murdoch yes-men cannot corrupt our precious environment!" 
I just stand and wave back.

The Tracks Outside My Window

The alarm rings a seven o’clock and I begin to rub my head,
I quickly turn it off and notice my wife has left the bed.
Out my window I can see tracks in the freshly fallen snow,
I wonder who could have made them and where do they go?

Perhaps I’ll put my boots on, make a trek to find the answer,
I wonder if my wife will join me… I’ll go downstairs and ask her.
When I get to the bottom step I notice a look in her eyes,
She is sitting on the couch and ignores my replies.

I sit next to her and ask if she wants to join me,
She appears flustered and asks “why do you have to see?”
I quickly run to the closet to get my coat and hat,
As I’m leaving I turn to her, “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

After hours of following the tracks I hear a strange hum,
Notice a shinny object where the sound is coming from.
It looks very strange like nothing I’ve seen before,
A dish with a slanted platform and a large sliding door.

After about twenty minutes I see a figure appear,
As it comes through the door it clearly can sense my fear.
Wearing a large hood, it pivots its head towards me,
Not knowing what to do, I quickly begin to flee.

I suddenly feel something grasping around my waist,
I fall to the snow, which quickly covers my face.
The next thing I sense I’m being carried to the ship,
I try to get away but cannot escape its grip.

I wake up on a bed and see in utter amazement,
There are only beautiful woman who release a heavenly scent,
But the one closest to me is holding a large knife,
Suddenly the door opens and there is standing my wife.

I get up quickly grab her arm and hold her by the door,
“She is my wife,” I scream, “I’ll love her forevermore.”
We jump from the craft and run through the snowy lawn,
All the tracks disappear and the ship suddenly… gone.

I slowly turn around and find myself alone with the trees,
I then look up and all I feel is a soft gentle breeze.
After almost 24 hours of walking I finally find my home,
As I enter the door and look inside, I realize I live alone.

I sadly sit in the chair and put my hands in my head,
Slowly take off my coat and hat, and then go to bed.
For I’ve been told many times, I do this after every snow.
I go outside…  and follow the tracks outside my window.

By: Greg Stanley
Submitted into the:
“History of One Day” Contest
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Unquotable Quotes - Friends - Xvi

Unquotable quotes Friends – XVI

Can friends also be lovers ; not certainly under covers.
Can friends do one another harm and stay calm ; not unless they have lost their sense of alarm.
Can you make a friend do what you will not do yourself ; what’s the use of having a friend who will not. 
Can you ask a friend for a recommendation which will get you a better job than his ; if you were him, you’d check to see if the signature was his.
Can you ask the friend running the marathon race with you to keep you company until the end ; if he does, dump him before you take the last bend.
If you asked your friend to take your sick dog to the veterinarian’s and if he agrees, give him your chihuahua, your kakatua, your Siamese twin and your cochon d’Inde, for a start. Keep the anaconda for a little later.
If you have a friend who has a large family, especially of the right sex, ask him to bring his entire family to your nudist camp at the local beach for the club’s commemoration day ; if he doesn’t, he cannot be your friend, so try another ; if the fool does, make certain the battery pack for your movie camera is fully charged and within reach.  
Can friends who know one another well enough share the same dreams ; yes, if they lick on the very same vanilla-flavoured ice-creams.
Can friends you call on the phone at home after hours not hang up before you do be trusted to fork out a loan for your mortgage payment ; if yes, then go and live with him or her at once.
Can a friend who backbites and carries tales about you be trusted to give your bride away at your seventh nuptials ? Yes, he most certainly can !
Can a friend who reviles his fellow candidates in an election primary be trusted to offer a longstanding friend a cabinet post in the event of a final resounding victory ? Indubitably, otherwise they wouldn’t be friends for that long anyway.
Can you let a friend take from you to give to a sworn enemy ; of course you can if you have been trying to get rid of her for a very, very long time.
Can a friend who never ceases to talk of having saved you from your friends be counted among your enemy’s best friends ?
Wives of friends who are always alone need to take up the trombone or trumpbone.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016.
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Epigram


Jayden Makieh Kelly (Part 6)

Jayden Makieh Kelly
    
  Later on that day others came and kept us company.  Everyone sat around, talked, and watched t.v.  I eventually got up a few times and walked through the hallways with the contractions at times stopping me in my path.  But, I always had someone there with me so that helped make it not so bad.  I was put on pitocin to help me sleep and my contractions become closer together and stronger.  My friend T’tiera came and rubbed my stomach until she had to leave and go to class and could not stay longer.  I was very, very drowsy, in pain and the contractions made me feel lousy.  Your nana could not get a break to sit down.  She was there to rub my back and stomach every time I frowned.  I thank God that she was there, even though at that time she was there with me all alone.  There was even one moment where I was calling her to rub me, someone was knocking at the door, and people were calling on both the hospital and cell phone!  After hours of dealing with the pain, at around 4pm I decided to get the epidural medicine.  That was a very tense moment for I had to be perfectly still and manage the pain of the contractions within.  But, boy oh boy was that the a great joy!  I was desperately in need of some relief and great sleep.  That epidural made it possible for me to do that and help all of the pain cease.  I went to sleep and had dilated to a six.  However, while I was sleeping some complications came up that they had to fix.  My heartbeat had dropped and was infecting you.  They put a monitor on your head to monitor you.  They were even discussing performing a caesarean delivery to get you out.  However, everything turned out fine and the labor went about.  Everything had been stabilized with me still sleeping not knowing anything, not having to realize what was happening with you inside.  But hours later when I awoke I was informed about all of those complications that had aroused and how the doctors fixed them like a mechanic. I think it was a good thing that I had been in a deep sleep because I probably would have over-reacted and made things worse with panic.  However, I was thankful that everything turned out to be fine.  If something would’ve happened to you I would’ve lost my mind.
Form:

Premium Member Sweet Sorrow

Bonnie Brown was in love with Charles, like black pearl clings to night,
So young and engaged to be married, like myriad stars, shining white.

They were active professionals, dwelling in a charming, bustling town;
As warbling charms orange noon, after pink mist clears, with no sound.

They had dreams of future and a family, like purple nights of fantasy;
And they were already making plans, like butterflies flitting frantically.

Fellowship of friends made fabulous Fridays, when they met after hours,
Dancing fun and funky karaoke, like dragonflies, among yellow flowers.

The family had always preferred flying, and finally arrived with jet lag,
In their flurry of activity; like snowflakes, or thunder's flashing, red flag.

Bonnie lived in the house of teatime, preferred in contented moments;
When speckled, green birds flew by the window, of afternoon suspense.

Scarlet rose was seared in heart's memory, on a street of grass sighing;
For Bonnie loved growing pretty blooms. She found their colors exciting!

News of the nation was on neighbors' lips, in the modern times of now;
But, novel nature took no notice, and it wouldn't have mattered, anyhow.

'Candy cane sorrel' blossoms thrilled children, in sweet days of summer;
As 'firecracker' blooms lauded 4th of July, 'mid droning, cricket latecomers.

'Red slipper' flowers lounged in velvet, while the 'parrot lilies' squawked;
And gardeners got rich as 'ruby cloud' descended, 'ere moonlight walked.

Bonnie planned to take a trip overseas, for two weeks of rest and gaiety;
But it'd be hard parting with Charles, like fall, bereft of flowering society.

Bonnie had so much fun, witnessing beautiful sights, like she never knew! 
For all folks need a little adventure, like rainbows of skies, suddenly blue.

Charles was busy with a major work project, but missed Bonnie terribly;
Like colorful seasons that keep repeating, their vibrant days, customarily.

'My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me,

Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me, to me,
Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me!'
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Satan Returns Wary Again

I wrote this early this morning and it disappeared before my eyes!! it was no more, gone my text disappeared after hours of work and so 
I will try again try to fight the creature once more. I warn us all: 
Be wary of greed, for money is a tricky item and useful to his means. Rarely is it about love or kindness. Though a few try to use it for such, using those funds now well after they were taken from dirty oil
from our seas and sands, gems from deep caves where men died.
And there are “lying signs” and “deception” items easily set 
to pull you in. We all must be aware, for only the best ignore 
these things we have created to live with daily. Yes, Money is 
a tricky thing. The Dalai Lama knows.
Be wary of false links for money and stocks, hedge funds and shorts. 
It becomes easy to watch them and try to play with them 
like a child’s game of marbles, bright and shining, adding more and more as they grow heavy in your bag and cripple you hands? As they often cripple all living things.What are they used for? Fake truths typed into  links daily. Couldn’t we just feed our brothers and sisters, give homes 
to those in need, medicines which are there for the worlds creatures, couldn't we just? But the devil can hide himself as a disguised-creature 
of light, orange and glowing, watch him promoting cold men buying weapons and promoting fear. While he attacks the arctic seas, and kills our brother whales for energy that is dying,  sending  children to attack wondrous creatures that have helped us for a million years, 
our elephant friends, see what he has done in his name. 
He moves about by placing children in cells and says they are well
 -- where are their parents their brothers and sisters? Where are they? Does he not try to get us to attack one another? Still many sing his name as they have done for eons while he entices them every year 
to be his minions. As they feel strong and alive even while a pythoen slowly sucks the divinity from their souls. He is everywhere and has been for eons as alive as such a creature can be. But once again we must be wary. Wary once again. Listen to kindness my friends -- true kindness whispered to us by the angels subtle and simple.
Form: Prose

Under the Waterfall

Wings flutter
     off in the distance
as I shuffle through these stones,
tasting the energy trapped in each,
scouring my lands
         for my lost crystal,
that which can mend
what I’ve torn asunder.

In frustration
   I abandon my quest,
deciding to find
     my feathery deity,
the wind carries her scent to me
and I head Northeast,
  diving through brush
          and dodging trees
like only a Lycan may.
She must have picked up on my intentions
for I sense her
  heading towards me
so I veer more northward,
   there’s a place I know.

As I draw near  
   you can hear water
      cascading off rocks,
when I arrive the moon is up,
clouds curled beneath it
as if it were a white pearl
  resting on gray cushions,
to the right 
   the beginnings of a river
being fed by the waterfall,
about 80’ tall
  careening off the three
stone outcroppings
and filling the air in the clearing 
with a fine mist,
 the left is ringed
by long needled pines
which have supplied the ground
with a soft cushion.

My winged beauty
lands on the third outcropping
whipping her hair back
under the waterfall’s edge.
I sprint to the water’s shore
and leap to the first,
as my claws connect
bound to the second,
paws touching
   then legs thrust me 
to the third
where I bring myself erect,
   better to ensnare my love
within my arms.

As I bring her close to me
she raises her left hand up
and caresses my muzzle and cheek
with her claws,
I bend downward
    and gently
sink my teeth
into the side of her neck,
she springs off the precipice ,
    me entwined,
and glides down to the pine needle bed.

As we land 
  she pushes herself up,
drags her right claw
down my chest
     and leans in to drink.
I drag one nail along
    each shoulder blade 
and let her blood
   drip down on me
while I lick my claws clean.

After hours
   she crashes down
into my chest,
exhaustion settling in.
I cup my hand around the back of her head,
   hair entwined
in my fingers
and as she uses her wings
to blanket us
we drift off
into a pleasant slumber
while the stars blink at us
and the night creatures
serenade us with their calls.

Ubereats Beats

Been at the Uber game since 2019.
Got in the booming gig work scene. 
Needed a part time job outside retail. 
Something allowing me to write my tale. 

Giving me the chance to pick my hours. 
And walk away if the situation sours. 
At first there were hardly any jobs. 
Doordash passed me all the lobs. 

They were quick absorbing restaurants. 
Feeding new needs of the eaters wants. 
They grew while Uber was preoccupied. 
Rideshare was #1 with delivery on the side. 

When COVID hit it changed the game. 
Restaurants could not remain the same. 
Delivery was how they would stay afloat. 
The industry hurt, it’d be a lie to sugarcoat. 

So while working 9 to 5, it was my cushion. 
After hours I could keep my grind pushin. 
When I lost a job I kept on earning dough. 
Even though on my resume it won’t show. 

But I chose my jobs based on what they pay. 
Customers and restaurants like what I say. 
Being efficient with the tasks and routes. 
To limit the delays and Karen’s pouts. 

Whether its a handoff or meet at door. 
I never really know what’s in store. 
Usually it’s smooth business and all’s good. 
But things don’t always go as they should. 

Items can be left out and overlooked. 
The order can alter how it was booked. 
Food can easily be under or over cooked. 
Spills happen when items get overshooked. 

But if you crack a joke or mediate. 
The stress will usually dissipate. 
Customers appreciate the golden rule. 
So I keep their ice cream very cool. 

Gotta ask for parm when they get pizza. 
I need it for mine, don’t know about cha. 
Gotta keep the hot food toasty in bags. 
Love when orders come with printed tags. 

Screenshot when funny  takes place. 
To share with others puts laughs on face. 
The stuff that happens seems unreal. 
But humor helps with tips, ya feel?


Gotta be choosy deciding which jobs to take. 
To optimize how much cash I can make. 
Typically I can work a solid 11 hour day. 
Averaging out a respectable hourly pay. 

Racking over a hundred miles in a shift. 
Sadly expecting an eventual lease rift. 
To offset the miles, the IRS reimburses. 
At 55 cents a mile, noted in these verses.
© Adam Segal  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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