Long Bells and whistles Poems
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Cupid's golden bow and arrow in hand
always hits the target to the tightest degree
shedding his green skin like the chameleon he is
the frog began drowning non-stop smiling as
he fell deeper into ocean colors of all shades a pearl
in a deep pool of beauty bathing so bright
he felt an electric bolt filled with deep undercurrents
string sparks fly in the first kiss with all feeling and intention
String sparks sizzilin' fly in the first kiss and bring
dazzling amazing golden warm struck straight
but oh so gallant and oh so wonderful
In the heart on fire within passion hot
underneath the stars sailing of into space
inside floating around thoughts off the first mate
desires your affectionate smiles, laughs, and grins
sings in the mind's eye grace of a thousand swans in flight
into another space over the Milky Way jewels sparkles a star
tender doting to the soul's eyes
floating to you bouncing inside waves
steaming hot seductive lashes
floating through those curtains we join souls
uniting tender wooing and wonderful woven passion
softly we forever kiss my love as desire always lays with you
I need and crave your love to take me to the edge of the night
dancing in my dreams struck deeply while
turning this world upside down
into a golden paradise ball with all bells and whistles
that I've wished in my life
Cupid's golden bow and arrow in hand
always hits the target tight and perfect
Always! Always! Always! Always!
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman, Collaborative Free Verse Poem, October 16, 2014
The day I won the lottery
Was such a special day
I woke on that morning
And I knew it right away
The day I won the lottery
I called all my family
And told them all that I could help
Because they mean so much to me
The day I won the lottery
I bought a fancy car
don’t even have a licence
so I didn’t drive too far
The day I won the lottery
I bought myself a boat
Has all the bells and whistles
But I don’t know if it floats
The day I won the lottery
I bought a massive house
It has so many rooms and doors
I don’t know in from out
The day I won the lottery
I woke a second time
And found that it was all a dream
And I didn’t have a dime
Form:
Autumn is not likely to come with bells and whistles.
That's because she tones things down, not up.
Heat starts its demise, having played its songs.
Cold is restless, but Autumn stares back and keeps her calm.
Autumn informs the trees, preparing them for color changes.
Autumn is not likely to come with bells and whistles.
Cameras are prepping, and the leaves on the trees are salivating,
because they know that they will be proudly staging before long.
Monarch butterflies are enjoying their summer, but it won't be long
now before they start setting their compass south toward Mexico.
Autumn is not likely to come with bells and whistles.
But the Birds are anticipating their long flight south.
Summer sometimes gets unruly and hangs around too long.
When that happens, Autumn has to appeal to their father.
The Lord then reminds Summer that her season is over.
Autumn is not likely to come with bells and whistles.
081722PSCtest, Hint of Autumn, Regina McIntosh
MY
PLACE IN THE SUN
a life without
giving is a life not
worth living in
truth my mother was
right,
but a life in a home
unsafe and alone was
all that was in my
sight.
upon considerable
reflection their
abuse and rejection
made absolutely no
sense,
but being a kid I
took it I did I was
too young to take
much offense.
alone in my room I
did contemplate doom
in the laboring
silence of night,
and hanged my head
with thoughts of
dread with no
glimmer no inkling
of light.
but I made my way
out although filled
with self-doubt I
was unable to face
the truth,
that I had been
changed by the onset
of shame and my
suffering for years
is my proof.
grown up in the dark
with no sense of my
heart lusting for
bells and whistles
galore,
with shoulds and
must haves and
quotas to mark life
left me empty and
longing for more.
in search for truth
throughout my youth
I found money and
power and fame,
I was distracted by
the lie of glitter
passing by all for
the sake of my name.
now I find myself
thinking on days of
my drinking and
years of chasing a
lie,
the cheating, the
fighting and
constant denying of
a self so consumed
by false pride.
I want to emerge
from the dark where
my hope ignites
spark and my mind is
no longer obtuse,
where the veil has
been lifted with
heart freed to love
and with mercy I
embrace my truth.
where speaking in
verses and walking
with purpose I could
shine brighter than
bobbles I hold,
under shadows of
trees with the earth
beneath my knees
where there’s
treasures for me to
behold.
I’d have no fear of
new faces and could
be in embraces
instead of the whirl
in my head,
and humbly ask
questions and wait
for the answers and
be free from the
pain that I shed.
with a new found
confidence from the
hand of providence I
could feel like I’d
finally won, a life
that is lived from
the inside out if I
could just find my
place in the sun.
I have a curious mind
About humans and their life’s
As I correspond with PS poets
I wonder where they reside?
Do you live in a house in suburbia
Or an apartment in a busy city
On a farm or ranch in the country?
With nature so captivating and pretty
Or are you beside the ocean?
In a cottage overgrown with thistle
Perhaps in a huge mansion
With all the bells and whistles!
Maybe you are a nomad
Your home on wheels and mobile
Or live in a boat on the water
Or is off grid more your style?
Do you just have a room?
Maybe a flat or a retirement home
Or high up in the mountains
In a commune or all alone?
Do you reside in a dry hot desert
Or in the alps covered with snow
Or by a babbling brook?
Where fresh water trickles and flows
Maybe you are a free spirit
Living life in a tent
Is your home your sanctuary
Do you feel safe and content?
I live in a house in the suburbs
One street back from the sea
I love my home and where I live
It is “my” sanctuary ….
Instead of a clank it's a clunk
A dreamlike sound to my ears
That irreplaceable new car smell
Not known for many years
Instead of a clank it's a clunk
I'm driving a brand new jalopy
With all the bells and whistles
My mood is turning soppy
Instead of a clank it's a clunk
Musta died and gone upstairs
Slapped myself, yup I'm awake
Sitting in my underwear
Instead of a clank it's a clunk
Jumped up at the stroke of six
Forgot my knickers so here I sit
I'm now in a terrible fix
Instead of a clank it's a clunk
People start to gather around
To know if I like my new jalopy
Hope they don't look down
Instead of a clank it's a clunk
Drove off with a confident air
Enjoying my moment of ecstasy
Wind messing up my hair
Instead of a clank it's a clunk
Moments like these are rare
So very few times in a lifetime
Noticing all the stares
Instead of a clank it's a clunk
A dreamlike sound to my ears
That oh so yummy new car smell
Missed it for too many years
© Jack Ellison 2013
Monthly Pop Ins
Tear off the almost healed scabs
Cutting new wounds
Deep into my being
Does love need to hurt
Has distance helped
You tell me no
Inadequate
Unnecessary
Unfullfilled
All words used to describe your situation
He came with bells and whistles
I came with only love
A love of who you are
Not who you might become
He came with visions of grandeur
I came with a job that would never have made us rich
Poor and Happy
Better than a life filled with things
Occupy your time
To quiet the things in your head
Think of me so often
I'm like your make-believe friend
I'm flesh and bone
Beating heart
Soul
You'll wake up
and be 50 years old
wondering where all your time went
You filled it with trivialities
Trying to forget
But your deepest parts will not let you forget
They bellow out
To feel as we once did
I have grown calloused to the pain of these scars
If I knew then what I now know
Would I change my future
NO
I would love you just as hard
For as long as you'd let me
We've agreed we are soul-mates
That was true
Can you say you've really lived
If you die without scars
Questions
If form follows function,
why does everything have too many bells and whistles?
Especially cell phone.
If everything is so simple a rocket scientist could do it,
why aren’t we all Werner von Braun’s?
Checkbooks are a mystery.
If the early bird gets the worm,
why are there birds out getting worms in the evening?
I get up early but I don’t eat worms.
If you are letting the cat out of the bag,
why are you telling the secret?
Why was the cat in the bag in the first place?
If curiosity killed the cat,
why aren’t more cats deceased?
I don’t like cats so_______.
If it is raining cats and dogs,
why don’t we have sturdier umbrellas?
Must get kind of messy when they hit the ground.
If we paint the town red to have a good time,
why are all towns pretty drab looking?
I only like red cars not buildings.
If someone is coming out of left field,
why don’t we just ignore them in the first place?
I played center field in little league.
If we can’t have our cake and eat it too,
why even bother having cake at all?
I just made an orange pound cake, so_______
at first it was unbearable i must admit
i wanted to stay home, i told my mom i felt sick
i understand now why they say time heals
it does
kinda funny though, its healing what never was
the first few weeks i’d wake up and try to get out of bed
awakened from a slumber that was only induced to silence the sirens in my head
carefully watching my steps to avoid the shards of glass scattered across the floor
leftover pieces of my heart that you forgot to pick up, the heart you said was yours
our paintings, you left those too
embarrassingly enough, for my birthday all i wanted was a text from you
eventually things got easier though, or maybe i just got distracted by the bells and whistles of life’s orchestration
you’ve given me no closure yet endless confirmation
unremitting sobs and no one to talk to
everyone was sick of hearing of my suffering, it was awful
then the hurt started to leave, and arose the confusion
how could you pretend? how wasn’t it real? was it all an illusion?
was i just another girl to you? how could my everything be nothing to you?
silly little questions that i realized i’ll never find answers to
because i evidently don’t know your heart, i don’t even think you do
the confusion was cut short along with my livelihood when i was met with you know what
funny, it’s actually only you who knows what
do you know what?
don’t you care?
it doesn’t matter if you do anyways, evidently you lied when you said with you i could always share
now, i still see your face when i walk around my house
it scared me when i tried to remember the sound of your voice and it was faint as a mouse
yesterday i passed the photobooth we took those cute pictures in
the ones i had hanging on my wall
i took them down, but i still look at them everytime i have no one to call
i look and remember when i had you and for that i am grateful enough
i won’t lie and say i’m completely over it, because anyone could call my bluff
i am becoming empty now, i actually understand you more
things hurt less and i’m no longer frazzled when people walk out the door
i’m starting to get back to okay again, but its an ephemeral feeling
shortlived by the memories and remembrance
its mostly emptiness though
mostly nothing
just like you
i guess nothings been the same
not since you left
gauntlet of mirrors transparency personified
transparency personified when the curtain falls
in an arena of quick sand and impromptu judgement
the stage was well set though actually
it presented itself as rather empty
epic theatre art form at its vacant best
I placed himself at the very manifest epicentre
of concealed and subconscious intentions
would I shed the gauntlet despite sharp sordid shards
sharing poetry soul-stripping and nakedly honest
Freud would think of an electrifying Egopuss complex
Jung’s shadow play might reveal phallic saints on display
until of course Nietzsche found God in Mary Magdalene
a marriage apocalyptically consummated in Dante’s inferno
with four horsemen in G-strings frottageing lust and desire
no contest is real unless the audience may be allowed
to pervert justice or shed more than hypocritical applause
constructive critique does not forbid foul language nor rage
at times I felt deprived when my poetry in the soup’s cauldron
merely attracted kind comments or however heartfelt approval
when I put myself into the lioness’ den I expect to be ravaged
ravaged displaced exposed devoured and put to the stake
a wizard needs fire because talent and flair have to be moulded
publishing poetry is an interaction between consenting partners
otherwise it risks to become pantomime or unilateral megalomania
mirror mirror on the wall am I not the best screwball of them all
where is the podium what is my prize accolade and quilled line squall
a masked persona falls short of the truth and I am the court jester
expect my bells and whistles to jingle as tools for the eloquent fool
tomtoolery when Machiavelli meets de Beauvoir in the boudoir
oh crystal ball kaleidoscope gemstone alchemy of soul and mind
nights in white satin and shining armour pain pleasure and words
words that cannot express my conflict when the prism is smudged
footnotes:
Egopuss complex refers to Oedipus’ gender neutrality, although it could be
viewed as a misspelling for the purulent excretions of Self on autopilot
tomtoolery are male tools of trade and craft, but could I not be the feminine
version