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Hopefully things will go up from here.
The new world leader is Angela Merkel from Germany
She is well-educated and wise.
She is not afraid to show people that she is a book reader.
Quotes about her are: "she is willing to learn new skills"
So all those crazy rumors about women not listening do not apply
Wait, there are no rumors like that. Women are the best listeners.
She serves on international councils, and she shines brightly.
She is inspiring women to get into politics and do something
Not just collect money until they are taken out in a body bag.
She is my hero. I adore her. I am intrigued by her integrity.
She has morals, and she is hiding nothing. She wears no mask.
I applaud Germany for again leading the way into the next century
Showing the rest of us how silly we have been for trading integrity
For the NRA's excitement about giving every deranged person
Their own brand spanking new assault rifle if they want one.
Who needs an assault rifle? No one, not even the police.
Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany, cannot be bought
Her integrity is not for sale at any cost; she is a beacon of hope.
She will lead the international committees into the next century
Understanding what integrity looks like, earning her own respect.
I welcomed you twenty twenty, a brand spanking new year
But all you brought with you was death, misery and fear
So I'll be glad to see the back of you and cant wait 'till you're gone
And I hope for better times in the year twenty twenty one.
You've left behind some' bad stuff' like covid nineteen
But hopefully it'll be defeated when they roll out the vaccine
Wearing masks and not seeing family, well that's been quite hard
But while you still lurk about, I won't drop my guard.
World leaders were floundering, not quick enough to act
Putting their economies before people and that is a fact
If only they'd looked at history, like the great Spanish flu
They'd have been a lot wiser and would've known what to do.
The news reported acts of kindness in every country
Like front line health workers who risked their lives for humanity
Sadly many of those brave heroes died needlessly
Because governments were too slow to provide proper P. P. E.
Viruses are nothing new and they'll come back again
We must stop destroying mother earth for financial gain
Upsetting natures balance causes these viruses to thrive
Mankind really needs to take notice if he wants to survive.
Cramming animals into cages is a pitiful sight
But mother nature is watching and is preparing to fight
Razing forests and dumping rubbish and polluting the sea
Is a recipe for disaster that'll bring untold misery.
So good riddance or go do one, many people will say
I'd remove all records of you if I had my way
People will always remember you for bringing misery and tears
And there will be much joy and relief as twenty twenty one nears.
When the clock strikes midnight, so happy I'll be
As twenty twenty sinks into the dark annals of history
But stay awake mankind and listen to the experts that know
I don't want to be the one saying "well I told you so".
Written 27th December 2020
2020 to 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mohan Chutani
Life is diverse.
A multi-seeking mess.
The particle, the wave.
All at the same time.
The unity is the disunity.
The Big Brother black hole
At the center of it all,
Silently howling for more.
Where does it all go?
The grinding of wills.
A quiet simmer.
The tension in the laughter.
The release of joy.
The exhilaration of touch,
Skin to skin.
Planets smashing into each other.
Voices crashing,
Like tectonic plates beneath us.
The smile that wants to frown.
The joke that was never told.
Brand spanking new planets to mold.
As we watch space fold,
Dancing soul to soul,
In common cosmic reverence.
Gearing up to what should be magical
Special winter to be a first of firsts
Brand spanking new at the grand-parent thing
Marshmallow snowsuits, sleighs and Santa Claus
First fluffy snowflakes falling from above
The Christmas tree lit up with shiny balls
Starring our nine-month old baby darling
Picturing with glee the sheer confusion
Crazy folk coaxing him to be wreckless
Bows, ribbons and coloured flashy paper
A few minutes of this and he’ll get bored
To make him magnificently happy
He just wants a cardboard box and cookie
Our Christmases will never be the same
Knowing next year he’ll be more into it
Now we just drool at all the photo ops !
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted for contest MY WINTER sponsored by VIV WIGLEY - November 17, 2017 - RANKED 5TH
Dad began work pushing a broom at the Chrysler Corporation.
A paltry fifty-five cents an hour was his compensation!
'Twas during the Great Depression when times were really hard.
He was elated to get the job and held Chrysler in high regard!
Dad was a "Chrysler" man thro' and thro' and for his "wheels",
Always owned an assortment of Plymouth and Dodge automobiles.
The one I recall as a lad was a Dodge, a nineteen thirty-five.
It was in this car that my patient Pa taught me how to drive!
Brand spanking new it cost Pa six hundred forty-five bucks.
It was touted as the latest and greatest, an auto car deluxe!
The gearshift and dimmer switch were located on the floor.
To indicate a turn or stop, you hung your arm out the door!
The spare tire was on the trunk with a ram's head on the hood.
It was the sharpest vehicle in all that Hoosier neighborhood!
A feature was the new leaf springs, providing a smoother ride.
He kept her washed and waxed - 'twas truly his joy and pride!
The old Dodge survived World War Two, bald tires and all.
It took us where we needed to go and would seldom ever stall.
It served us for nigh on fifteen years 'til, alas, she died.
('Tis still told in family lore that my Pa broke down and cried!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
I have booked a holiday,
I am going on a Cruise.
Plenty time to read my books,
lots of time to snooze.
Then to find romance,
meet my ideal man.
All aboard the Love Boat (baby)
For marriage and suntan.
Gonna get my legs waxed,
Bikini line done to.
Then to try to lose some weight
I"ll look brand spanking new!
The Ticket it arrived,
my Brain I tried to rack.
( that I had it all)
In the cases that I packed.
My excitement it did mount
as the date became the day.
The Taxi it will come
and i"ll soon be on my way.
I have never been at sea,
so the question always begs.
Will I feel alright,
upon my new sea legs.
The Love Boat is so good
and soon we leave the dock.
The journey is so smooth
it is steady as a rock.
I party every night,
but never heed the warnings.
To much drink and sea
equals throw up every morning.
But I think it"s great,
that I am ready and i"m able,
to finally meet the Captain
( got the invite to his table)
The big night it arrives
I am dressed up to the nines.
He wont know what has hit him
as he becomes all mine!
Going to get that Captain,
yes that will be my plan.
Turn on the seduction
and I will get my man.
But the Captain is a Women!
I don"t know what to say.
(oh her **** are so much bigger)
It spoils my Holiday.
So the Moral of this story,
Is plain for all to see.
Always check your Life Boy
or He might be a She!!!
Snap... crackle... pop... microwave went kaput
After start button pushed
immediate auditory signal issued
nsync with billowing smoke
time saving convenient contrivance
rendered defunct trucked to dumpster.
Pre owned electronic contraption
unpredictably went on fritz
malfunction occurred without warning
luckily spouse, the Misses
she instantaneously intervened
lest towering inferno engulfed
yours truly and wife
poetic license expended
to identify latter counterpart.
Rather than dish out
(and scrape together)
scarce legal tender
strong probability resident
(housed with Highland Manor apartments)
will vacate premises within near future
abandoning useable microwave oven.
Another option? Nearby thrift stores named:
Habitat for Humanity West Norriton ReStore
sells kitchen appliances
close proximity to our living quarters
if unsuccessful pursuit...
Worse case scenario?
Shop at Bath, Bed and Behind (er... Beyond),
Bestbuy, BJ's Warehouse, Boscov's
Home Depot, Loews, Macy's,
Target, or Walmart.
Splurge (potentially breaking poor piggy bank),
plus overspend checking account funds
readily pitting yours truly into the red
money to purchase brand spanking new
cooking unit versus consuming
frozen and/or uncooked foods
remember Euell Gibbons?
Twenty first century western civilization
steeped in capitalistism
I find existence
palpable (barely), incompatible disagreeable,
yet ill prepared
to revel in luxurious self sufficiency
think sweat of one's brow
living off the grid.
My dad built a house on a hill. How exciting to climb to the tippy-top then look down upon the roof, and dog home, the bean garden, and to sled the slope in Winter white.
eyes delirious
dazzled, dizzy, delighted
dopamine kicked in
A truck gets stuck at the bottom of our steep driveway, blocking local traffic on our rural road. I wonder if this sticks in anyone else’s memory? Then like ants, industrious, sweating for donuts and coffee, my dad’s friends work their quads, up and down this unexpected hell.
our walls carried up
unfinished planks, like a cross
friendship marches on
We’d help spackle the parts of the wall scored by nails. Dad would use the saw to cut a wooden floor, like his rest-in-peace dad, who surely stops in to measure his son’s progress, to see his grandkids placing the unstained wood.
this home has no ghosts
brand-spanking new on old hill
but the past’s with us
While constructing, Mom would open a can of Dinty Moore stew, cook over a portable stove, and serve over rice. We would order Pizza from Salvatore’s - my mouth waters at the thought of this New York pie with Italian sausage, sauce and cheese. They’d occasionally order a submarine; I can still taste the fresh lettuce, tomato and thin-sliced deli meats on yeasty bread.
what we remember
is funny; the senses touch
childhood memories
The builder, of the house’s frame, was called one day. He was told my dad went through the roof. Later, they came, standing outside and sizing up the roof, when my mom questioned them as to what he was looking at. Mom rolled her eyes as she told him, what was meant, was that my dad was mad.
screwball translation
the heated conversation
is lost in humor
Shovelling the driveway, in Winter, in my plaid, woollen, hooded coat. My face can feel the chill, the briskness of the wind, and the warmth of mittens. I miss my childhood, even the arduous times, those wonderful family times.
a surprise arrives
at this address; a newborn
unplanned, a kicker
I know it is tradition
But this year I have chosen a theme for Thanksgiving
We will not include turkey, ham, or beef of any kind
The theme is vibrant veggie
These instructions were given to my cousin Sue
From her brand-spanking-new-daughter-in-law Midge
So, you will be hosting? Deciphered Sue.
No, Midge told her. You may clean.
But I will be bringing the decorations.
We do not want Pilgrims or Indians or any of that rot.
Sue asked, “Can I still bake the traditional cinnamon cake?”
“Sorry,” Midge said. “Too much sugar.”
I am listening to my cousin and I have no comment.
She only has one grandchild.
All of her eggs in one basket.
She does not want to alienate that egg's mother.
“So, she is letting you clean!” I say cheerfully.
“If I do it right,” Sue says.
I have no other words.
It was her kitchen, her family, and my newly-married man, and I aimed to please her by properly being fed.
With a smile and a swish, “We have butterscotch pudding pie for dessert!” My brand spanking new mother-in-law said.
Her excitement had no knowledge of the instant memory of horribleness that leaped instantly to my own quickly confused head.
I tried to take an invisible pretend bite while the family all watched, eagerly waiting but my traitorous mouth played dead.
Tears filled my eyes, as I was unnaturally smothered with the sad, angry hurt of my long-ago favorite butterscotch pie.
The feelings came so damned fast, I could not stop them at all or even slow them down, and they surrounded me, and made me cry.
When I was eleven, my family of origin was in the kitchen, laughing, and playing, and goofing around.
When the phone rang, I was asked to get it, because it was wire-attached to the wall, and I was the closest to the retched sound.
I had never heard my mother wail or keen until that day, certainly never heard her yell, “DICK!” or fall without any game to play.
Our big Dad jumped up faster than we had ever seen, grabbed rag-doll Mom before she hit the kitchen counter in a not so great way.
We all turned pure white, which was odd because we were usually pink. Fascinated, yet, hungry, I took my first bite, and heard the words “Mom is dead, and Dad’s dead too.”
We kids started shaking, sad and scared. Grandma and Grandpa were our king and queen. When things calmed down in a second or two that damned butterscotch pie tasted like glue.
Everyone wailed wild-eyed, faces red. The cousins came, and we huddled together and cried and screamed how great it was sob, sob, that they both went to heaven.
Yes, I know that was many years ago but when my feelings took my body over loud and clear, they clamped my mouth tightly shut, because I was back to 11.