Long Cool as a cucumber Poems

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Premium Member Paddling Like a Duck Underneath

Cool as a cucumber, he plopped down
She looked and wondered why, but said, "Hi."
Wishing she had turned her head with a sour frown
The whole time thinking she wished she said bye

She looked and wondered why, but said, "Hi."
He was cool as a cucumber, so it seemed
The whole time thinking she wished she said bye
Deep down in a rut, her thoughts said get up in a scream

He was cool as a cucumber, so it seemed
But he was really paddling like a duck underneath
Deep down in a rut, her thoughts said get up in a scream
If only had she known, it would lead to a bridal wreath  

But he was really paddling like a duck underneath
Wishing she had turned her head with a sour frown
If only she had known, this would lead to a bridal wreath
Cool as a cucumber he plopped down

poem coming soon__Finis'
Date: July 27, 2022
Contest: Simile
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
Form: Pantoum


Premium Member Words and Phrases

What do you think of when I say the word “love”
Flowers, blue skies and sunshine
And so when you think of total “commitment”
It's a lifetime of souls intertwined

When you hear the phrase, “cool as a cucumber”
Does a vegetable come to mind
Or a frosty mint julep on a hot summer day
When you leave all your troubles behind

What d'ya think of when hearing the word “gorgeous”
Long legs, nice boobs and derieres
Some slender bodies with flowing blonde hair
The slenderer, the more merrier

How about, “he bit off more than he can chew”
Certainly has sexual overtones
Okay this is bringing out the bad in this fellow
Thinking I may have to postpone

What do you think of when I say the word “charlize”
A most beautiful South African lass
She's got everything a young man could ever ask for
Old guys are even cooking with gas

When you hear the phrase, “not playing with a full deck”
“looney toons” sure comes to mind
Don't like to categorize but with some guys it's obvious
They're beyond being helped I find


© Jack Ellison 2015
Form: Narrative

Nature Dialogue

The moon?
A king that needn’t tout his might,
just lounges up there, cool as a cucumber,
as stars tumble like glitter from some cosmic party,
just enough shimmer to keep us wondering:
who’s really in charge - us or them?

The sun elbows its way in, 
boisterous and brilliantly loud,
flinging gold across the sky like confetti,
yelling, “Let’s go! Daylight’s wasting!”
It doesn’t ask for permission to set your soul on fire,
and if you’re not burning by now, that’s on you.

The ocean doesn’t bother with formalities.
It rolls in, pushes its weight around,
tosses your worries out to sea with a lazy, 
“Nah, you’re done with those.”
There’s no negotiation, just the quiet peace
of letting go when you didn’t even know you needed to.

And the forest?
Old as the first breath,
it doesn’t rush, doesn’t care for clocks.
It whispers, “Stay still long enough, and maybe 
you’ll remember how to grow.”
Roots so deep they don’t care if you notice—
because they know life is in the waiting,
and you’re a part of it whether you realise or not.

NOCTURNAL NATURE

Pensively promended I, as impetuous as a poet
To accumulate few jocund inkling on dusk

For sure, not as a bard
But,as a novice to nature

Stalked I, bare-footed anigh lake
Jabbed some spines beneath my foot

Yon reconnoitred I, do any luminuous light clandestined in water?
Else, any celestial gem floats  in lake?

Nay! it's the waxing moon in the sky
That seemed to tread on water.

Paddled I into the lake
To grab some pallied lillies

Hardly perceived I any bloomed one!
Had the lillies been sailed under false colour by moon?

I knew not their intrigue
Nor had I, prescient criteria

Chillness of water benumbed me
Retrieved I, as cool as a cucumber to the bank

Is this terra God's palette?
Obviously! nature is the art of God.

Dark grey was lake's scenario
Stood reeds augustly amidst the lake.

Casuarina broke into tumult
When the west wind passed adriftting it

Glow worms scattered round the bushes
Heard I, croaking of frogs.

I felt languished by chillness
That pierced my chest and nostrils

Homeward bound,strolled I
For I had been there behind my father's back.

As being benumbed by drastic cold
I was at the end of my tether.

Soon felt I, in the arms of Morpheus
On the grass, supine anigh lake

By morning, I began to fly off at a tangents
When an highland lass harped on my shoulder

I began to know the ropes of that wintry night
For it cajoled me to sleep resembling lullaby

No human hardly be preponderate
Than a mother and nature.

Premium Member Cash Man

Cash Man played the field 

Love to wheel 

And deal  

Until one day  

There was no pay  

Cash Man did not know what to say  

Felt very alone 

Picked up the phone  

Heard the dial tone 

Decided to go back to school  

Swam in the alumni betting pool  

Won the spreads  

No longer in debt  

Returned to flapping 

And tapping  

Dancing around, something always happening   

Choregraphing afternoon delights  

Providing entertainment rights  

Especially when Cash Man is there  

Playing fair  

Well versed in gaming numbers  

Cool as a cucumber  

Cannot be stopped  

Ascending towards the top  

Not thinking bubble could pop  

And if it does  

We all knew who he was  

Cash Man who played the field  

Loving the wheel 

And deal
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Wrong Number

And once again I whisper, "Wrong number."
Twisting the cold cord around my finger,
Sitting there, as cool as a cucumber 
Still knowing why I will always linger

It's you, it's you, I know that haunting voice 
Somewhere on the other end of the line,
I'm listening, as if I had a choice ...
To the same ghost in this tired ear of mine

You're truly making a long distance call 
And just who's to argue, when it's your dime, 
Ringing my old number, to tell me all ...
Showing up yet again on borrowed time 

While my teary eyes close, nearing slumber 
And once again I whisper, "Wrong number."
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Defining Love

When asked to define the word love

My first thought was... it's impossible to explain love

How does one descibe the wind

How does one describe the cool fresh morning air

The brilliant sunshine that makes us feel so alive

It's a feeling inside that can't be put into mere words

When you first experience it, no one needs to tell you

The experience overwhelms you, it takes over your soul

You walk on air oblivious to your surroundings

You smile a lot at silly things

You walk into things that someone

Has strangely placed in your way

Like street lamps or fire hydrants

You forget important meetings

With the excuse that you lost your date book

You feel like you have a raging ferver

But you're cool as a cucumber outside

Friends worry, wondering about your strange behaviour

But then soon recognize the symptoms

The same symptoms that 99.9% of human beings

Have experienced at least once in their lifetime

Ah love, sweet love

Is there any greater feeling in life

Most emphatically I say NO!


© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Confrontation

I'm okay, you're okay is a mask in the land of pretend.


Being cool as a cucumber is okay for cowards.
Pollens cannot always hide themselves within soft flowers.
Breaking from established norms is sometimes necessary. 
Why should minds be wrapped by a pacification airy?

Compromises and negotiations do not last long.
How long shall we, like logs on river water, shift along?
Shouldn't we, first and foremost, to our very selves, belong?
Why should our voice always sound like a challenge-less birdsong?

Humility, though a virtue, demands questioning too.
Within smiles of appeasement, feelings of grudge must not brew.
I need not feel I am okay, but you are not okay.
I needn't, yet, forget that each one has his or her say...

I must adjust when needed; I need not be a doormat.
Why should tigers feel as though they're negotiable cats?
Confrontations and encounters enable us to bloom.
Mere mollification will finally bring one's self-doom...
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Interloper Came On Too Strong

“I suggest we break the ice”, the interloper said.
I began chopping with a snow axe, and she laughed.

You must have been born with a silver spoon, she threw out.
I threw the snow axe at her; irritated she had called it a spoon.

She ducked, as cool as a cucumber.
I was irritated now.

“I’ve got your number,” she told me.
I had no idea how she had gotten it.

“I was not born yesterday,” she added.
I knew from her wrinkles she was not lying.

“This is as easy as ABC,” she said. “You are transparent.”
I was not a happy camper now, she was getting under my skin.

“Hold your horses,” I told her. “You are coming on too strong.”
“You’ll be in hot water if you continue egging me on like this.”

She laughed. “Let me put a bug in your ear,” she said.
“Hot water is something I do best after falling through a hole in the ice.”

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