Long Eke out Poems
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Eke out, O my living?
On what grounds do ye speak?
Based on our thanksgiving?
O turkey, through creek creak!
Wind atop the atoll low?
Steady, then first blow.
Ogre, ochre. Fast or slow?
Gold, give off thy glow...
Tyrant of the ocean deep;
Through dark chasm leap?
Horror, do ye find life cheap?
Challengers to creep...
Thought-light, gloss over the spark?
Fire, light up the dark?
Covenant? Communion, ark?
Hone, upon the bark...
Fill in, O ravine? Unseen.
Trail lead through the green.
Emptiness, fill each machine?
Will it work, I deen...?
Dismay, spring from dynamite?
Nuclear, gone white?
Pinholes, curtains, nine knives, night!
Rampage on the right!
Queen of civilized world, wait?
Hie across the strait!
O for those who prattle, prate!
Rage at higher rate!
Barbarians, gather?
Oppose such as this?
Well, we wouldn't rather.
Sail on, black abyss...
A flea market called the outhouse market
is located just outside of York Town.
And an arrow sign nailed to an old tree
points you to the best flea market around.
Cause it's hidden behind some outhouses
folks need to look for it, it's hard to find.
And yet, it has quite a reputation
as the place ... to find those one of a kind.
You'd think that its unsavory locale
would mean business would be non existent.
And to eke out any kind of living
you'd have to be pretty darn persistent.
But the irony is... profits doubled
since the vendors moved their businesses there.
For it seems that people think it’s kinky
and therefore, it’s always a crowded affair.
(Quatrain)
Mar.16, 2018
A Hidden Market - Poetry Contest
Julia Ward
A vagabond once in a colorful ‘kurta’
And a turban wound round his head
Came into my house, one afternoon
A snake charmer,
Carrying pretzel serpents
In a wicker basket,
The slimy things coiled inside.
At our door step, he put down the cargo
Begging my mother to allow a show
Sitting on haunches,
He removed the lid
Three serpents were huddled inside
As soon as the cage was opened,
They unwound their folds and came out
On the tiled floor, they crawled round
Slipping and slithering awkwardly
One was a cobra, long and tawny
Soon it stood erect and opened its hood
Hissing kisses with its hungry tongue
The charmer gently blew on his horn
In the lulling music
The snake began to dance
My eyes bulged out in utter disbelief
Bewitchingly drawn to that mesmerizing scene
It was at that time my father came
With fire in his eyes, he shouted at my mother
“How dare you allow this here!
Are you playing with imminent death?
Stop this nonsense and let the man, go”
All were stunned and my mother shrunk back
Putting the snakes back in his basket,
The man was about to leave
My compassionate father didn’t forget
To give him a generous tip, feeling pity
For a man who was out with a risky job
To eke out a living, encountering death face to face
Still the memory lingers, raising fears
8.Jan. 2022
The Snake Charmer Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Kal Michael Neumann
~ Papa ~
Dawn broke uneasy o'er damp, dreary lane
Fish markets open, the merchant a-bustle
Hawking his fresh catch to eke out a gain
Daily routine, one of stressed, ceaseless hustle
Perils of prepping each fish for display
Callouses, cuts and old scars that he'd hide
Leathery skin soaked in brine and dismay
Profits already had started to slide...
Meanwhile at home wife and children slept sound
Knowing that Papa was busy at work
Earning a living straight up, pound by pound
Back-breaking labor which he would not shirk
Papa Giovanni, a man oh-so-proud
His praises be sung in the fish market loud
August 15, 2020
Strand Completely New (#25) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Genealogy
—The beginning of a family tree—
For my great, great grandfather was a son of a slave,
he also was the slave,
and he grew up with a sad and appalling bedtime story
under the dim candlelight flickering in mother’s deep and painful sigh.
Since there was no book to turn over the leaves
no colorful pictures to see or fine letters to read.
The story was from the lips of dear mother,
who worn out from a long and hard day’s labor at fields,
and it was the most touching story he ever heard.
He, therefore, with his poor mother’s image
by his bed side though grievous,
carried this sad and heart-rending story
as an unforgettable boyhood day’s memory in his heart.
The story was, then, handed down generation to generation
and it was the story of Uncle Tom,1
one of most beautiful human beings,
agonizing under the heartless master’s lash,
gasping his last in the bosom of
a gentle-hearted young Mas’r from Kentucky
where the Tom-less Tom’s cabin on the sunny side hill still stands.
Nonetheless, Struggle was the only word they knew
to survive though not as human beings but as a simple living thing,
nonetheless, Struggle was the only word they have to bear in mind
in order to eke out an existence
though not as a dignified being but as an insignificant thing.
They struggled for their lives throughout their never-ending
tiring days, throughout their dark and restless nights.
Although my great, great, great grandfather’s father was
a proud warrior of a tribe
which dominated the wilds in the coast of the Black Continent
where the glow of a setting sun kisses yonder horizon to redden
the ripples, to call the stars and moon from the other side of sky
for the undisturbed and peaceful rest at night.
However, when the evil-spirited wicked ones
whose domain encompasses to and over the seven seas
invaded this peaceful land, though he was a courageous warrior,
whose strength was greater than the king of the beasts
he was trapped and lost his mighty strength.
Able to run faster than the cheetah in the wild
he was shackled and lost his swift legs.
The wings, which enabled him to soar higher
than the eagle were broken to pieces as he was captured.
1Cf: Harriet Beecher Stowe. Uncle Tom’s Cabin
Foremost apex bird leading the flock flight
United to run the race and fight the fight
Apache, Comanche, Samurai, knight
Choosing to keep victory in mind and sight
Tearing through the darkness till we behold light
March by day, sojourn by night
And because we solely rest upon God’s might
Only being head and not tail feels right
Bracing the weather, weathering the storm
We give and take as we take form
Change is our preserve as we preserve righteous norm
Moment’s heat in a cold world somehow feels warm
As happenings and deeds feed how our deeds perform
In life’s seesaw arena we sow to see what will blossom
From middles and ends, we claim the whole portion by portion
We mark and eke out our ideals and a nation
Advancing, withstanding and wearing off resistance
With passion, conviction and insistence
Feeding on virtue and denying sin any dalliance
Overcoming evil with good and rebellion with reverence
Fruitfulness ousts empty occupation and nonchalance
And so we emerge from the dull trenches with a radiance
With a baffling lustre, poise and stance
Affording a gaze where we couldn’t beg a glance
K. Muitherero
March 10, 2019 - Daylight Saving Time Starts
The homey nimble storied wisdom of
Benjamin Franklin still
admired during hour time,
especially noteworthy, for slime
molds, the second Sunday of March,
when theft linkedin with
(Ides say) most innocuous crime
re: stealth of precious sixty minutes, hence
a flash in the pan idea to expound rhyme,
which notional whim came like bolt of lightning,
while daydreaming 'bout (what else...but)
flying a kite during stormy (Daniels) clime.
thus, once again twilight
takes quantum leap
forward hut, our humble keep
sake hour hand of time
grudgingly advances without beep
ping, ewe know who of little lamb fame,
what with barely audible lil bo peep
predicated, asper in taking away thirty six
hundred seconds of sleep
subsequently marking
second Sunday when e'er deep
into Lion of winter month o' March rolls
around with least amount by Dickens
plaintively asking Uriah Heep
to crank up AC/DC dirty
Harry deed done dirt cheap
cuz, this tradition of sorts
supposedly doth reap
economic benefits plus
Circadian rhythm less steep
difference with contrivance
issuing Whatsapp hapt'n when leap
pin lizards such Iam
motioning carillon to alternate between
sepulchral and refulgent chime
creating less discordant
dilly dally dichotomy
reverberates all the way to Siam,
while aye blithely tapped out here
yours truly 'ere at his Schwenksville heim
taking poetic life (in hour hand)
liberty at pursuit this prime
mate takes to hash feeble
verse to eke out a dime
probably more realistic for me
to ply blimey hands with grime,
now suddenly bedeviled what to do
soundlessly communicating woe
whiz mere (mein kampf),
sans displaying mime
as a last ditch effort before time
to call quits with this futile rhyme.
June nineteenth one hundred and fifty years ago
Juneteenth hint: three hundred
and sixty six days
after eighteen sixty four.
Major General Gordon Granger
led the Union Soldiers to Galveston, Texas,
to announce the end of the Civil war
and the freedom of all enslaved people.
Jim Crow sat perched
over the event horizon
waiting in the wings,
which brought darkened
(non-sheltering) skies
not only for the hot pocket
of suddenly emancipated
persons of color,
who would subsequently experience
immense prejudice
upon their embarkation
as (no pun intended)
"masters" of their own selves
while attempting to eke out a living
dirt poor, yet resourceful
hunkering down on plantations,
which property eminent domain
of federal government,
(a political entity
characterized by union
of partially self-governing provinces,
states, or other regions),
whereby said body electric
codified, fortified, and indemnified
manifest destiny, a phrase
coined in 1845, the idea
that United States destined—
by God advocates believed—
to expand its dominion
and spread democracy and capitalism
across the entire North American continent.
Though institution of slavery
supposedly rendered null and void
at the stroke of a pen
(courtesy Abraham Lincoln)
well actual legislation
passed by Congress on January 31, 1865,
and ratified on December 6, 1865,
the 13th Amendment abolished slavery
in the United States.
Nevertheless merciless abuse
heaped upon the *****
despite their legal status
being Granted leeway
to persevere life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness.
Recognition as equal brethren
among collective soul of American
fraught with bitter aversion,
condemnation, and ejaculation
of physical and verbal violence
against people of color,
whose melanin enriched complexion
birthrights rendered hidebound
severely limited
inalienable rights as declared
in Declaration of Independence,
now still utter abhorrence
regarding treatment
of those proud enterprising people,
whose once storied
African past left in tatters
leaving sparse threads
woven together by diligent dogged research
nsync with twenty first century technology
to allow, enable and provide opportunity
to stitch together a more complete tapestry
and spiritual fusion with shackled ancestors.