Long Bang on Poems
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the nights were filled with arguments
new jersey had a new prostitute
spring and true love, drunken moments
soon mutable to the crashing of objects
against the walls, the doors
freedom thru defenestration
how was i supposed to read and write
i would bang on the wall
hey, Quasimodo, pax vobiscum, remember
mans sana in copre sano
this is heaven here on earth
try Occam's razor for god's sake
there would be a knock on the door
Quasi had returned my Beethoven's fifth
earphones, boom box
i loved his courtships
he used to walk, talk
and breathe his next conquest
the ones he could convince
to leave the profession
gifts in tow, he would stop by, well
you're irresistible Quasi
she hasn't a chance
need money, a few lines in Spanish
anything for a fellow kamikaze
it was worth the silence
i could hear him above my own roar
my only wish was to teach him
pick on the tourists, they leave
upon his victorious return, the inevitable
he would pull the bed back
far enough from the wall
to get the banging effect he needed
gave her hell didn't i, he would say
and the inevitable always brought the war
month, sometimes more, and they would
have found a new patron of the bottle art
but new jersey took one seriously
doing his life in Mexico
what is it like to love a woman to death
i don't care to know
what a horrible thought
it is much easier waving goodbye to buses
no jail time, no funeral expenses
Playa Hermosa 92 The Patient Stones
We all have those notebooks
filled up to the top
of poems we started
but for some reason had to stop
But we never throw them away
into the trash can or shredder
because someday we’ll rewrite them
and make them much better
So I thought I would share
just a few of them here
and why they did not make the cut
should become perfectly clear
Bad Dog
Bang, bang, bang on my window
Scratch, scratch, scratch on the screen
I threw the dog out the door
for pooping on the kitchen floor
and my wife had the nerve to call me mean
A Montana Man
Our Governor carried a six gun
took his dog with him to state affairs
Branded bills instead of signing em
rode his horse when he went anywhere
Covid
Covid 19 virus still ravages the world
although there are millions who will still deny it
One brother obeys the laws by wearing his mask
another will take up his arms to defy it
Picky, Picky
There are those that prefer sunrise
and those that enjoy the sunset
Some will never be satisfied
but I will take what I can get
Give it Your All
All that matters at the end of a day
as you look back upon the way you lived
Is you can say you were true to yourself
and gave it everything you had to give
Get Out of the Way
All that grease in the sausage I ate
has my breakfast gurgling right on through
My stomach is not feeling so great
man I really do have to go poo
Working For a Living
Any job you do not love
is a job that never ends
The way to make it better
is to share it with a friend
Marriage
The problem is most of the couples who marry
are not really quite sure what to expect
Ain’t got a clue about the real life that happens
after the end of the candy, flowers and sex
You think yours is the one that is something special
your honeymoon will just keep going on and on
You have way too much love to give to each other
no way in hell ‘that couple’ is what you’ll become
The Grave
The earth was dug out
in geometric lines
Straight as an arrow
Trimmed like glass
They tucked you away
into your own cliché
Gone like the wind
All things must pass
When it rains it pours
Bad luck soars
You're falling apart
Behind closing doors
When the lights go out
You're consumed with doubt
Your losing your voice
But dying to shout
The domino effect
Your life is a wreck
One wrong move
And you sprained your neck
A stroke of bad luck
You're a sitting duck
You try breaking free
But your body is stuck
In sets of three
Inevitably
You aren't superstitious
But begin to believe
Will it relent
Your last penny spent
You bang on the walls
But can't make a dent
A thud on rock bottom
Devouring a crumb
The sound of silence
A high pitch drum
bang on the midnight hour she woke from her terror
suffocating her eyes popped out of orbital spheres
nerves exposed and dangling tears in front of the truth
not that long ago she had danced in moonshines of joy
bells and whistles attached to silken colourful dreams
now her lullaby had become an epitaph of surrender
she clutched at the straw in the coffin and inhaled
one last breath filled her lungs and screamed as if
to loosen the nails of the casket for one final time
one of which clawed its way into her frontal lobe
she could smell earthworms and scented pastoral voices
almost slipped on the marble of the polished grave stone
the straw tasted of raspberry sorbet and whipped cream
self-flagellation removed the sour icing on the last cake
and she stroked the cotton cloth with her calloused hands
transcended a highway to heaven and took leave of her fear
a crowd of bigoted mourners took flight and ate their words
when she offered no retribution but unconditional kindness
her nightmare’s clarity offered a way to step out of the pit
the pendulum of self-incrimination pierced moribund scares
at the stroke of midnight the sunrise welcomed a new dawn
My little boy on rainy days
The tin pots are out to stay
On those days very dry
Some hold vegetables; some meat fry
Bang on the unused pots, baby
Today's your day for fun ~maybe
My little boy; make some noise
Little one; use them for your toys
Oh! It is raining~ again
Listen to, all that den
Little one, get the spoon
Hit the side, to rain's tune
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Contest: Nursery Rhyme 2
Date written: 03/15/2021
I was remembering my mother used to tell me a rhyme that she said her boyfriend wrote to her for Valentine's day. My mother was born in 1901 and was a teenager around 1914 so a very long time ago.
Her friend wrote her this poem:
I love you a little
I love you a lot
I love you enough to fill ten pots
Eight wash tubs and 3 dishpans
So my thoughts for writing this comes from this little poem my mother told me when I was a teenager.
Liberty Hall
The halls are packed with Liberty,
She cries FREEDOM on the streets.
The halls are packed with Liberty,
The children forgo their sweets.
Let's have a Ball
Smash and grab, fire asunder
Take what you can, who cares!
Come on people, lets' plunder,
Don't worry about the stares.
It's your Call
Hey coppers, we're over here,
What are you going to do in blue?
Like Goliath you have the spear
But we have our stones too.
England's Fall
Forever England, forever scarred,
A scared community up in arms,
Houses burnt, vehicles charred,
Come citizens, sound the alarm.
Murdered All
Standing up for justice,
Protecting innocent blood,
"That's when the motorist
Ran them over m'lud".
England's Rise
To arms people of England
And bring your brooms to sweep
Up those in the gutter and
Take them off to the Keep
It's Our Call
We'll clear our streets of chard
Of glass and wash away the blood.
We know that recession hits you hard
And poverty's doors opened the flood.
The PM's Call
To those of you who caused this pain
I say to you again and again;
"We shall seek you out, bang on your door
To prison you'll go and join the score."
The Rioters Ball.
To the party the hoodies went
Headline news and infamy gained,
Lusted and busted, their energy spent
Their futures ordained and chained.
Whitehall
The doors of power convened in suit
And Judgement Day sprang to life.
Murmurings and guffaws of repute
Resonated like Churchillian days of rife.
Always at the end of his jokes
She heads off to visit her folks
Being a blonde is no fun
So off she does run
For sometime away from her bloke
So into the country she heads
This blonde who is now a brunette
But on the road she does meet
A woolly flock off nice sheep
As she slams on the anchors in sweat
To the shepherd she offers to ask
How many you have is my task
If I guess it dead right
I take one home tonight
As she hopes to lose this blonde mask
She counts as she guesses bang on
There is one hundred and seventy one
Slowly looking around
She takes the one sitting down
Feeling shes on a home run
Now the shepherds been left so agog
Amazed at this brunette road hog
Her shade of hair he has guessed
Birth blonde you are blessed
It's not a sheep you have, it's my dog
Today is different
For it is the first day of the rest of my life
I heard the owl across the road in the early morning hour
Is this a deer hunter calling or is it the real thing?
I haven't heard him before
When I have been out on the porch
So is he real or you
Some crows are flying very high and crawing as they go
As if to tell me just be aware of the owl disguised in men's clothes
The crickets chirp their contented song
Birds just join right in
The rain has made their habitat become a living den
Loving the quiet of the early morning even though the sunrise is hidden by the
clouds
There is glory in the gray even though it seems like a shroud
Somewhere along the owl quit who whoing does that mean he went to sleep
Well responsibility calls loudly and I hear the bang on the basement door the dirty
clothes call me they can't stand the stink any more
Form:
Whisper, whisper, ear to ear
creaking boards and hushing winds
Bang on the door that once was Poe's
With deep dark secrets
In the thick black night
There is more loss of blood
Then there was a loss of mind
Through the pounding boards and matching heart
That drove him out of lies
Or the heavy velvet curtain
In the room of death of red
Amidst secluded ball of masks
Chased to the brink of one last breath
Finally, he reaches the pen point
The end is in the beholders eye
Not often that of anothers
Take the bird of prey from sight
He may hear it mock forever
Yet eye will see it, nevermore
For Poe!
Grandma's Pets
My granda went away to sea
For many months on end
He'd travel on a fishing boat
With his brother and a friend
He used to write home regularly
And tell some quite tall tales
About being in a far-away place
When he was actually in Wales
Once they actually went to Africa
He wrote he was bringing Gran a pet
When he came home with a small cage
He'd brought her a marmoset
He opened up the cage
And up the curtains it did run
The curtains tore, granda laughed,
Grandma didn't think it fun
She said it had to go
So to the pet shop Granda went
He returned without the Monkey
And to ‘Coventry’ he was sent
Granda apologised and said
that he would compensate
Next day he bought Gran Tip,a cat
Bimbo, the budgie, feared its fate
He'd run up and down his ladder
And his cuttlefish he would gnaw
He took one look at Tip and thought
'I've not seen you before'
One day he pecked his bell so hard
The clapper fell out onto the floor
No matter how much he pecked it
That bell would ring no more
Bimbo, I’d known since a little girl
He lived to a good age
I still remember that fateful day
I found him lifeless in his cage
Tip lived till he was seven
Many kittens he would father
Mrs Thomas would bang on the door
And get in a right lather
“Your Tip's been paying visits
To my precious tabby Pip.
If you don't keep him in
I'll see to it he has ‘the snip'”
After Tip came Ruff the dog
A cairn terrier with his papers
We would laugh so many times
At his little doggie capers
There were two unbuttered teacakes
Sitting on a plate
Mum went to fetch the butter
She came back to an empty plate
Ruff was looking sheepish
Crumbs all around his chin
The cute expression on his furry face
I could swear it was a grin
We lost Ruff when he was eight
Poison in his canned dog food
If that had happened now
The manufacturer we'd have sued
Grandma put her foot down
And told Granda “No more pets”
She missed them all
Well most of them
But not the marmoset