Long Ceremoniously Poems
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Edwardo Badia
1856-1914
That low bred confidence man!
That snooking swindler who took me for a fool.
“Hey Gregg, you thief!
You owe me still, even as I rot here,
Regrettably ensconced inside this bursting old boneyard,
Final resting grounds of a thousand parted pilgrims,
No doubt suffering in claustrophobic hell,
Like this old besotted soul,
Decades and repeating weeks of years,
After Mister White planted me in this dusty earth,
Next to the famished broad oak over here,
A few yards from the stone crosses of the Luetweilers,
Buried and cushioned in the wrong grave,
Stuffed inside the tomb of a swindled corpse!
Sir, we shook hands on that deal!
I was to be transferred to Whittier Heights,
My new spacious home for these dusty old bones,
In exchange for the procurement of land there,
Burial land with pleasant vistas, green grass, and
“Eternally sweeping views of the Pacific,”
Fitting views indeed, for my sweet wife and loving mother;
And although my family was ceremoniously exhumed,
And taxied there by a duo of horses and a trio of men,
Sir, you forgot me here, forlorn and alone,
And still in this detested grave!
How could you knowingly leave me here,
Separated and apart from my sweet wife,
And my loving mother?
Sir, I demand a refund!
Stan was a conductor of a band,
Stan thought he was very grand.
In the park most summer days,
From the bandstand, Stanley plays.
With his bandleaders uniform on,
He ceremoniously raises his baton.
The musicians all look dignified,
As they picked up their instruments with pride.
Looking very serious indeed,
They all start to proceed.
By this time, they have an audience sitting in chairs,
More people are waiting at the fence as the band prepares.
To start a session of marches and old songs, for folk to listen and
Some to sing along.
First, some Sousa marches,
They always raise a cheer.
Then "Underneath the arches" and other old songs,
That sometimes bring a tear.
Stirring military marches and softer mellow sounds,
Pour from this magnificent band.
People singing, tapping their feet,
Happiness abounds.
With an OOM PAH PAH and a TOOT TOOT TOOT,
Crash of CYMBALS, ROLL of DRUMS,
Sun smiling down, People milling around,
Stanley's band was full of fun.
Sad to say, most bandstands did not stay.
A loss to everyone.
*Image of Ghana's Dancing Pallbearers by CGTN.
Dance of Deliverance
Portend looms gravediggers ere dusk
Orange descend skies slipping purple
Their courage ascend embolden husk
Almost finished all extend into a circle
Heart mind soul a godsend arabesque
2021 October 27
*2nd Place*
Something Beautiful 5 line rhyme
~~charles messina: Judged 2021 November 11
*In some cultures worldwide, including parts of the USA, there's a festive theme for burials of the recently departed. A celebration of their lives reverberates ceremoniously in a joyous send-off, giving their loved ones a beautiful transition into the afterlife.
*Image of Santa Clause, Charlie Calvin by Giphy.
The Glass Orb
In an e'er thus oft agitated contorted crystalline world,
Unconsciously being tinseled by the energies that transpire,
Flurries of fakery enshroud the encircled glassful menagerie.
Indifferent minions from habit, obey the traumatic turbulence,
Revolving in every-which-way of an inescapable no bars prism.
Liquefied mirage a wintry desert of horned camels and pine dates.
Nevertheless, calming ceremoniously exhibits, abruptly emerge.
Ambiguity surrenders gracefully, necessitating the delusion,
There exists a well-treasured keepsake immortalized in a globe.
Adoringly exposed glittering peepers to overindulge in disbelief,
As a seasonal passage liberates a once boxed stored wonderment.
2019 November 25
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand 4 to 14 line
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 08
*1st Place*
Stuck in a Christmas Globe
~~Bobby May: Judged 2019 December 12
15 of them begin the emotional ritual attired in silk & sequens,
they maneuver miraculously one after another on burning coals glowing violet,
the dance steps are heartbeats, curved & compassionate, their majesty is inviolate,
their Art is to suffer for Hope wrought from the ribbon of Reality's casualties,
fifteen to infinity the ladies become shooting stars
lazered through a constellation collapsing into a single sphere of suspense,
the crowd claps, cymbals chyme and a sorcerer's symbols
rain in a fury of subconscious superstorm, confusing chaos
and charming candor as relics vouchsafed in this cosmic cavern,
the Eye of Providence appears annonymously, winking with Blessings
on the forehead of a girl crooning for Roman gifts of iron roses & opium doses
as she poses prettily on top of the Arch of the Covenant
where angels scorch alms and demons dine on delirium,
a flame spitter and sword swallower run to the forefront
as the music deepens within the skulls of saints,
they confront each other with pride, mortal misgivings alight in their eyes,
a contest between Altruism & Misanthropy,
which will prevail, fire or steel, which to survive, love or hate,
one gets stabbed, the other burned, wagers wave through the theater,
lots of chatter, banter & bravado, the wounded continue with character,
Innocence tries to exit but is not allowed by Wherewithal
as the two forces seem to be fatally struck
a curtain closes ceremoniously and all that remains,
endangered enlightenment echoes, and echoes like thunder
while a beautiful candle glows, not yet bent or spent
and everyone in attendance calms and knows,
in absence of love, nothing but misery can be achieved -
J.A.B.
Baking was not an option,
long gone were the days (and nights!) of crème brûlée and bûche noël.
Such delicacies have taken a more...paternalistic
approach,
abstaining stove-works entirely,
however slippery,
often guided by such vintage luminarians as Einstein's popular 'words to live by' & action-tropes by the enticing acrobatic authors,
J & L Bird.
Various interlopers, actual or imaginary, instantly
stiffened to attention once the oven-door was opened and the klaxon bell engaged.
Ceremoniously, once alert, all in attendance
(rubber black-rats excluded) turned towards
shelved rainbow rivers of irises (plasic, of course!) and with goodwill (and smiles) together recited the Lord's Prayer,
and departed.
Dedicated to Clarky & his loving support team, you know who you are...
03/19/22
7:18pm
james marshall goff
Spring, summer, autumn, winter,
Nature’s endless march.
Each a cherished visitor.
With grace and determination,
one by one each takes its turn on stage.
Seeds, long buried, know their time
to release next generations
of flowers, grasses, trees, all else.
Each a phoenix in repose.
Deeply programmed to unfold.
Blossoming young sprouts—
break free from earth's clutches,
under ever-changing skies.
Suddenly, a grand symphony erupts.
Rapturous melodies released.
The meadow basks in warm sunlight,
where perky wildflowers seduce the bees.
Luring them deep into their folds.
With life’s nectar on their feet,
they fly off, sharing their fertile riches.
Summer’s end, a clarion's call to autumn.
No need for mourning—
the leaves set themselves free.
Unabashedly beautiful,
they tumble ceremoniously to the ground.
Frost arrives, a masterful artist,
draping a shimmering veil over land and wood,
under the cool whisper of winter’s breath.
Nights grow longer,
while days slumber in long-awaited rest.
Behind the closed curtain,
silent dormancy arrives,
as life withdraws into hidden chambers--
Till once again,
they hear thaw's gentle call to awaken.
Spaces like Life
Your death is no spectacle. It will unfold itself ceremoniously
like a soft-sweater worn and discarded because of a snag
I walk in a ghetto in the black of night, chunks of asphalt heaved up in more spots than smooth,
Makes me think of you,
57 murders of the kind I like
with his first touch, you’ve been archived,
dust collecting on your gilded frame,
curating feelings long dormant,
with the first exchange of flesh—no market bizarre bartering,
the store room caught fire, and you are naught but cindered-ash.
The body both fleshy life and a tomb.
How does paradox exist?
Think on it, scissors join to dissever!
It's one absurdity I cannot resist.
Such conundrums mere escapist thoughts
Bring a chuckle to my lips and a smile on a dog.
As I pass cars jacked
Up on bricks, weeds burst through their rusted out floors,
And brick buildings fenestrated with busted out windows,
once strong practical housing for those “less fortunate”
I cultivate a fondness for demise.
I grow a kinship with discarded things; another era
Eased into obsolescence by sheer neglect.
A complex psychological poem of a vivid portrait of a person caught up in a morally wrong, intoxicating passionate affair.
Inescapable, aware of its moral and social implications, but still addicted.
It reads both like a love letter and a confessional piece.
Layered with dark beauty, guilt, defiance, desperation, and an intriguing question?
Can two cheaters ever be truly happy?
A theme portrayed endlessly in soaps, drama's, film but more realistically, life.
Well, what do you think?
Can two morally corrupt individuals live happily ever after?
Title.
The Affair.
(A lone voice whispers)
We always meet under the moonlights priceless silvery rays
We dance like entwined consummated eternal lovers
Forever engaged
Married insidiously by Father Darkness through our wicked salacious old ways
The thoughts of the world
and all outward consequences
Simply burn on our old relationships funeral pyres
And like grey smoke
Simply float away
Carried aloft by the cold now dystopian midnight air
This crazy relationship which once started as a Facebook and Twitter conversation, and
now such a thrilling, exhilarating irreducible dare
Is now my every living breathing prayer
This may last or may break
It may end in a heartbeat as we share a slice of the Devil's
delicious seductive cake
But you were always worth the risk and long waits
Your three words now just bind me and sing to me
Whenever my green eyes close
Three words within eight letters, I just love to hear
I love you
It just keeps me star-struck
Like a Hollywood big actor
Lost on your big screen projector
Regardless of our sins before God and humanity, and our unspoken marriage
As we ceremoniously slide through dark shadows like unseen lepers
I know we'll win and buy that beautiful dream, we often speak of together
For we're just one of the world's many unknown sinners
Swimming valiantly in one of life's many deep rivers
Holding tightly to each other as we sometimes struggle to breathe
Trying to be together forever
Whatever this judgemental
world believes or conceives
Married together insidiously
through our wicked ways
As we weave gaslighting Machiavellian plans
To always deceive
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
The past has painted a dreary history
with emblems of bittersweet memories,
Benign soaring deeds in almost everything,
but generations to come will be a surprise.
When worlds far apart ceremoniously unite,
to leave the lowered frown of awful gloom.
Deplume made Africa arise from trampled dirt,
to be admired in fiercer clouds coming down.
With every drapery breath changing place,
Destiny hands over the elusive realms in time,
Casting crowns to a forgotten race of eminence,
To Bring them out from the labyrinth of decline.
Into a glorious sunshine far and high as the stars,
Joyful alliance made combined nations proud,
in greater orbits, their planets have no slaves,
Wearing paradise on their heart under a shroud.
Africa arise out of the screen of banners forgotten,
In the distant sphere, see a reign less radiant now,
Could that vapour be a drop of monotint dream?
With Caribbean faces looking through the window.
Narrowing the refit gap, brace for future impact,
although hope seems very far away,
Africa will arise to stand upon the mountain top,
when the vision becomes light as the day.