Long Bath Poems
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In Nineteen ninety-six, our son and wife, Majors
In US Army, moved to Izmir, their new base.
As usual, whatever place they were assigned,
We flew to visit them as well as dear grandkids.
So off we went to spend two weeks in Turkey, this
Outstanding country we had never been before.
So much to see at Ephesus—Metropolis
Of Antique Age; The Stadium, the Harbor Bath,
Basilica, the Marble Road, Heracles Gate—
All ruins now. Were sad to see these wondrous works
Of art and architecture now in disarray
And strewn about on fields on which they proudly stood.
Of varied striking sites in Pergamon, we saw
The City Walls, the Aqueducts, Acropolis,
The Temple Dionysus, that of Trajan too.
So many ages, periods had ruled this place,
Artistic wonders, structures turned to ruins—works
Of Persian, Greek, Roman and more, in pieces lay.
Besides the many ancient ruins visited,
We were amazed that many locals spoke our tongue.
They did their best to make us feel so much at ease,
Were gracious in combined Mid-Eastern/Euro style
Of hospitality and types of food they ate
And served, like cheese, tomatoes, olives of all kinds.
Izmir, a city mixed with culture old and new,
Like modern shops and open markets, outdoor stands
With fish and meats on ice, yet weighed on modern scales.
And women with fine bread on plates held up on heads,
Who walked the streets in morning, dressed in peasant garb;
Yet working business women wore more modern dress.
We ventured to the famous city, Istanbul,
Surprised to see the many high-rise buildings there,
And streets so overcrowded with their vehicles;
Large offices and business centers everywhere—
Ladies with fashion boots, purses and western dress;
Big contrast with those living back in country hills.
Such history surrounds this ancient, distant land;
So many varied cultures ruled their sacred world.
Museums filled with artifacts from centuries,
Safeguarded and in view to honor and behold.
This trip shall always hold such special, vivid thoughts
For us to cherish and remember for all time.
Of course, this one-time trip was many years ago;
We're happy we had ventured then instead of now,
For times have changed; such unrest grows within our world.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Memorable Vacations
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Judged: May 8, 2015
Iambic Hexameter
Though (supposedly) only
the good die young, urn holding
cremated ashes a mere cup
full, every last man standing falls,
cuz nobody else
escapes un pup
yule lore blitzkrieg,
or aging gracefully,
the unavoidable eventual fate,
(mortal fateful demise),
sans the remaining unsung
anonymous peoples meet up
with the grim reaper,
who will ineluctably disrupt
the carryings on
with each and every individual
(non plus ultra all other
life forms as well)
gradually or with abrupt,
and unannounced debut
scythe lent lee appearing
to whisk away the
honest and/or corrupt
whether taking their
first meal of the day,
and/or last sup
per, perhaps sitting quietly,
when body electric
amp pare rent lee
receives ohm
my word fatal invite,
whereat permanent shocking
quiescence doth, sans
stealth maneuver erupt
tragically, indiscriminately,
and blithely
mowing down innocent civilians,
and/or training fate squarely
upon heads of soldiers
life during wartime,
where opposing armies regale
while marching men go hup...
to three fore (akin
to a story field day),
winning booby prize, viz
counting on qua,
asper winning lottery
and/or Stanley Cup
major blood bath rendered
significant counting coup
whereat each opposing fighting
force figuratively doth slew
the other, analogously dost defeat
making mince meat
re: as uniformed brigades in heat
of wanton killing
fields sliced minced,
chopped nada so vary neat,
via stealth unable dupe, nor cheat
death be not proud,
et cetera, nonetheless,
grimly forced to greet
a bonanza coup won,
only tubby beat
tin to pulp by adept
skull and excellent fleet
of foot (top
notch crafted) sweet
(albeit) temporary victory
tasting said treat
assailing, bruiting , and/or
weathering stance versus
alternating between defensive
and/or offensive
use of cross bones,
in a hail of bullets
instantaneously didst greet
fast and furious i.e. suffering
deadly raking har row
ring slaughter, an entire
phalanx gone, where
(metaphorical terrible swift sword)
no uniformed fighter
can never call retreat.
Have you ever seen bullfrog green jump across a Lilly pad?
Did you ever see gold moth bathing in a moonshine bath?
Do you watch as teal raindrops bless and baptize the stream?
Will you hear the wood windmill song it sings each spring?
I walk real close to the sandy coast where Nana and I share things
She told me once always have fun always be true and dream
I recall those days her voice her face I can still see her smile
The dandelions seemed less boring to me a wild city child
Papa came into the house with his muddy blue overalls
His gray mustache seems to shout louder than Pa talks
“The time is close and he is nearly broke come if you want to see
The albino pony being tamed from the only pack of wild ones near the creek”
My eyes grow big and I must admit I love excitement of any kind
So I dropped my book to have a look and ponder the pony so fine
The pony kicks and then it sits as if one final stubborn nerve exists
Then it saw me it started to scream and have all kind of fits
Papa says whew! This one likes you! Why don’t you say hi?
I was really too scared and had never dared to ride a pony or try
But for some reason I had a season of unusual courage to spare
I climbed the fence went straight to him
The pony with ice eyes white hair
As soon as I came close, he let out a little noise
It was as if he had hoped to find comfort in my voice
I didn’t know what to do or how I would earn his faith
But in a minute or two our eyes like glue
Stuck and we became mates
The pony calm was eating from my palm
And I feel a new esteem
Instead breaking the pony in
I feel he broke into me
Each day the boredom was swept away
By my pony friend indeed
I would feed him little treats change his hay
And he fed me spiritually
The pony still was a little strong willed
So no one was allowed
To ride him or take him anywhere
That was too far from the house
So times were slow even so the pony and I would play
He could do tricks and even dance a bit
If I ask him a certain way.
Pony bends and I get on him
Like the wind he rides to town
I find the nurse who was at church
And she calls others around.
So that summer I lost and found things
I would never willingly give up
Nana and kittens and Papa getting bitten
A pony and farm full of love.
A NOTABLE HORSE CONTEST
10/13/2021
SPONSOR ROBERT JAMES LIGUORI
They had measured on close counts,
Before they began his dismount,
All flowers and scents were left behind,
It was only mud that came to mind,
He was a log of wood that had no use,
They were about to consign him as refuse,
They had measured on close counts,
And now had finished his dismount,
They all glumly looked at the innards of earth,
Dug apart so as to be his home and hearth,
They lowered him with care,
Some cried and other shed tears,
Such care they had never shown,
When he was alive full blown,
They left him but he could not,
In years that followed he thought,
And all thoughts were about and their's,
But he lay still there,
Not able to do much,
While lower insects ate him as such,
Twenty yards under the surface,
The earth weighed on him like a mace,
He had volumes to carry,
Every moment without delay or tarry,
In peace he had the quiet,
Under the forceful mud of his burial site,
He was largely unattended,
Only heard anniversary footsteps,
When his thought subject came tending,
There was lot of din,
As one day woke abruptly in,
He could hear the rattling and banging of hammer,
His peace was disturbed and began to stammer,
It was furious and fast,
He presumed it could not be just his nest,
But also his neighbors from first to last,
It was familiar yes very much so,
All the sound and racket on the go,
It was regular and incessant,
As if it was rain rampant,
Yes, clouds up there from above,
Were pouring over his grave,
They sounded angry and irate,
And were determined to drown all gates,
He felt secure under mud,
And there suddenly was a seeping thud,
It was really bad and water had come in tones,
His grave was all definitely drowned,
Now the water had bossed over the earth,
Pressing it hard for the inner most berth,
It was invading the twenty yards,
And approaching him fast,
And he thought will the dead also meet the flood,
The seeping thud was on the first drop,
That fell on his stomach,
He churned as eating insects scurried,
Soon train followed thud after thud,
And then it was a volley of scuds,
His cavity was being filled,
And bones getting viscid and humid,
A coolness spread through rotten carrion,
And went on to turn into a bath for the skeleton,
It bathed him till it was just soaking,
Was it he who had ascended to heaven,
Or the heavens came pouring down to meet him even.
Bring the Nzu and
Kola nut
Take it to the
stranger among us,
Let him kiss it and
be bless.
Let him rub the Nzu
on his arms then his
fore head.
It is our tradition
here not to neglect
A humble stranger in
our land.
We kiss suffering on
the lips, it harm us
not.
We measure our joy
with dance and
laughter.
pour the oil in the
calabash
Roast the yam and
break the kolanut,
Let the youngest
among us break and
share it.
Pour the dry gin on
the ground and bless
the gods
Our forefathers must
drink before we
taste ours
Angry will they be
if they taste not
the gin.
It is our tradition
here in Nkporoland.
The maiden must not
touch the raging
masquerade
Keep them afar off
from the here, let
them smell not of
it.
All the young men
must be present at
the Iza Afa festival
and then the young
women must not be
excluded from the
Igboto Nma festival
in the village
square.
When is the
initiation into the
masks spirit taken
place?
Warn all the young
men to partake, it
is our tradition
Never allow the she
goat deliver in
pain,
Go call the elders
to look after its
delivering.
The snake must never
be in group like the
beads
It is an abomination
not among the
tradition.
Gather the cowries
and the white chalk
and assemble the
youth in the shrine
Lets pour the goat
blood for the
sacrifices
The gos will hear us
this time after
We went astray from
it in foolishness.
Call on the widow
among us, i heard
there was one.
Her hair must be
Barbe thoroughly
She must bath and
drink the water used
on
Her deceased husband
bath.
The Umu Ada must be
there
It is the tradition
here.
Let the Umu Ada
check the maidens
Of their virginity
before they dance
Let them deep their
hands into the hole
One after the other
to check the fruits.
It is part of the
traditions.
The king must not
set his eyes on a
rotten
Shining meals which
are set for the
vultures.
Let not a child
whistles in the day
Let not a girl child
come out to the
Agbala naked
Under the initiation
in festival of
virginity.
We all must set the
tradition going
It is our right and
liberty to excel.
Neglect not the
wisdom of the elders
In his wisdom exist
pure and holy.
Our fore fathers
must be happy and
free
when we all observe
the traditions
Of Nkporoland in its
pure heart.
Bath City football club is an embarrassment to Bath
Most people ain't heard of them the ones who have laugh
Their aim and ambition is to be what they are
And that's like dreaming you're a broken down car
The fixture list came and it says you take part
So you push that car around the track from the start
Their desire is to exist with no plan to go far
They don't have the fire they don't have the heart
We don't show support when it all looks a farce
Don't we deserve something better than this
In good old Bath City where only rugby exists
Football can rot because rugby's the wish
absolute bollocks it's bollocks it is
Lacking intelligence in this rugby territory
it's like they see football the ultimate enemy
Scared of its presence and what it might do
A city with one club yet big enough for two
Our Uni makes athletes Olympian Gold
Bath Rugby competes while the football's on hold
There is a demand, no there's not we get told
"Football's not our game it's just not our mould"
I know Sir James Dyson is a man made in Bath
we're all proud of that, those Hoovers are bad
I say that as slang, his old bosses are mad
They rejected his hoover, how dumb and how daft
Now with your mass fortune beyond simple maths
You can now do what nobody else ever has
Invest in Bath City and put them on the map
You'll be a hero and they won't be crap
Potential so blatant will finally grow
and with it our pride, a pride never known
fill up the stadium with a reason to go
and fans will keep coming if there is a show
The community will bond as it responds to events
when you create dreams the present prevents
those magical days when the cup brings giants
a promotion or two through your generous expense
there's so much potential, they so under achieve
it wouldn't take much for that club to succeed
giving thousands of locals dreams hope and belief
It's you Sir James Dyson can gift what we need
It'll take off like your Hoovers but the football won't suck
with your big fat fortune it won't cost you a buck
it's a bigger football club than we know but its stuck
and it's about our community, it's a gift of good luck
invest in Bath City and the best is to come,
you'll go down in history as the one champion
who did the one thing that nobody had done,
go on mate please it's a job that sounds fun
Foundation.
With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?
Will you be tempted to do so?
Title:
Be You
(A lone voice whispers)
Be You
Forgo assimilation
And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System
Dream and aspire before you're retired
With all your soul's, inner resistance
Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers
Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things
Which could linger
From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died
Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies
To be one of the many lonely wanderers
Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds
As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach
Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls
While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks
Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry
Music or literature, filled with human energy
As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall
Putting ingenuity into jeopardy
Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation
As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox
With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul
Lingering around like black mold
With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound
Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope
But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned
The one called Earth
The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you
Unassimilated and still free
Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind
Slowly been drained of personality and self identity
Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold
Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth
With their eventual rebirth
This my friend with the bright eyes unseen
Has always been a worthy oath to follow
For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting
Energetic, raw, and visual
Literature
Music or poetry
Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo
What's says you?
Are you going to strive to stay the real you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Here are questions that I would be asking Trump.
have many crosses to burn
why never will take your turn
before start did adjorn
poor things have proposed
why are you being exposed
lying we supposed
with supporters mingles
and why do you have shingles
while dry skin tingles
only lies have sought
why forget to take your shot
beneath collar be hot
burn things to stubble
why do you cause much trouble
face on balloon bubble
have called heart a spade
why are you always afraid
not keep proms made
made bad selection
why start an insurection
need much protection
hearing you am bored
why never pray to the Lord
false teeth you have stored
stolen each mitten
why records have you hidden
which are forbidden
supporters ignore
why do plat golf so poor
steal from local store
questions Trump will ask
why never complete a task
fat body in sun basque
why would you hire
someone you what to fire
and do desire
on head has orange hair
why will you mask never wear
made from underware
questions will ask Trump
why have you been such a grump
on back have big hump
several lies say
why do you mess up my day
for crimes never pay
Trump is surely dumb
while having been a beach bum
with bag full of scum
some say Trump while screech
so why should him we impeach
always lowdown leach
Trump seems full of glum
with you why is only doom
your rot in each room
raises much static
why make things problematic
being drug addict
if you want to more add
when I read them will be glad
news Trump has been bad
Trump has blowing his stack
why would you
want to come back
while making wise crack
Trump has lost his wits
why would you have called it quits
should be blown to bits
If you did not laugh
should take another warm bath
Be burned with much wreath
Trump started screaming
Why no features redeeming
Bright orange hair beaming
never passed a test
why her body did you molest
we were not impressed
Trump likes to linger
Why are you a bad singer
Flipped up his finger
Trump let bed bugs bite
why temptation do you fight
run away in freight
Trump motto he made
why on market do you trade
when of sense not a blade
born without a brain
why did Trump become insane
always will remain
His lies plentiful
Trump why is posture pitiful
and brain miiscule
It was the kind of day you step in front of traffic, then dare fate to fold you up in newspaper headlines.
Oh dreams came true alright, but you should have dreamed about not being a foolhardy dreamer; who can know these things. Maybe better instincts the next go-round.
Your mind is an ashtray full of stumped out intentions, it’s overflowing and starting to look like a barrel cactus. And you’re in just the right kind of mood, to burn another one down.
Your eyes slowly break open and realize how much you look forward to that double shot of communal antacid and how much you dread pouring yourself out onto the sidewalk for your morning bath in bright light. Today the dream is for a life lived in black and white.
Some days are better than others, but this one is exceptional. If overwhelmed and heartbroken had a love child, it would have been born at 6:30 this morning when you tore through a placenta of bed sheets.
But lust is on the menu today. It rarely doesn’t cause more problems, but having a little fun is not nothing. And it’s always easier to rally when excitement lies ahead. But creativity will have to be the secret sauce because you’ve gone and earned yourself “a reputation”. The last thing on her mind would be to see your stupid face today. Perfect.
Now, to pre-clarify, a simple plan, doesn’t mean good plan. And this may have been neither but good is a matter of perspective. Bad, well bad is easier to identify post mortem. Does it mean a man is no good, if no good comes from his actions or do intentions get any recognition? Asking for a friend.
Some things a man does, just for himself. No need for others to know about the challenge or triumph; it’s an integrity thing…this wasn’t one of those. This was more of a “gratuitous excitement” kind of thing.
You have have a customary pre-action thought of caution: sometimes fate just isn’t reasonable. But of course there’s no mystery in reason. A wise man once said “just because you can, doesnt mean you should”. Unfortunately that works the other way too.
But by tonight fate may finally be finished toying with you and tomorrow you’ll be a tabloid front page. She used to say “morning is for thinking, the nighttime is for feels”. It’s 4 seconds to midnight somewhere; you better get moving. But not before firing up another coffin nail.
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS L H ANDRESS-ZEISS
Are-hearts-like....................RAINBOWS-'n-POTS-a-GOLD?
When..............SUMMER-FELL..................my-heart-DIED!
'Cuz-if-you..........................DIDN'T-KNOW......'He'-LIED!
And-when........SUMMER-FELL..........a-reward/WAS-SOLD!
And-what-SHE...........DIDN'T-KNOW...........YOU-WERE
THAT-SILVER/LINING...................at-the-end/of-the
LONGEST-STORM...........and-through..........ENDLESS-NIGHTS
My-heart...................DIED.........................'Cuz-'He'/LIED!
If.....................VALHALLA-ever-did/exist.........IT-WASN'T
FOR/ME!
HER-SHIP/sailed..............and-mine/didn't..........did-'He'
Care..................That-Somewhere-My-Heart....... BLED?
If-Beauty..................COUNTS...............Then.....DOESN'T
MY-HEART/BLEED..................Because-I'm/BEAUTIFUL
TOO!
If-raptures.............and-blue-currents........and-swirls
Of---------HOPELESS/DREAMS....................COUNT
DON'T-I/COUNT-TOO..................my-heart-was
Stripped........and-I/Bled....................Till-I/DIED!
And-when-I...............SOAKED-'n-DIED........and-a
Cotton-Swab...............DIED-'n-THE----DARKEST
WELL-OF-THE/HOTTEST...................TUB-of-ALL
TIME............................my-tears-did-they/fall
Till..............THE/DARKNESS-FELL.......and-the/color
Of-my/bath.............BLED................and-I/Died!
TILL.....................'YOU'-LET....................HIM
CALL!
And-'You'.................LET...........HIM........CALL!
And-that-Rainbow..........FELL............TO-A/POT
OF-PURE/GOLD!
And-I-was..............SOLD-AND-FIN-NALLY/SOLD
And-now................I-know/'You'...........DIDN'T
LIE!
GOLDEN-HAIRED................AND-BEAU-TI-FUL!
A-Match-Made-in.......................HEAVEN!
A-Designer-and-a...............GENTLEMAN!
He-Advocates.........and-Swears......TO/ME
AND-JUST/ME!
He-Sings-The/Sweetest-Songs.......and-he
DANCES-TO/ALL-NINES!
He-Rhymes-'n-Sings..............A-CLOWN-OF
ALL-TIME.....................He's-cute-'n-a
CLOWN!
Is-he....................SUPER...........or-just
A-MAN?
Does-he.................Love............or-has
He-just...............................WATCHED?
LOVE-'n-ME...........................IS-SUPER!
[Continued on Next Entry to PoetrySoupCom]