Long Feisty Poems
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Gonifs and gossips revisited
since originally being crafted
approximately half dozen
dirty deeds done dirt cheap years ago...
Abound and lurk
within every nook and cranny
analogous to some annoying pest
harmless though one reside here,
when off his meds goes berserk
here at Highland Manor Apartments.
They snatch and snitch packages -
meant for other than themselves -
think Grinch who stole Christmas
plus snoop, i.e. eavesdrop
big Dumbo ears as listening devices
(batteries not required)
or serve as rumor mongers
to don self importance
and trumpet "FAKE NEWS."
We (yours truly and his misses)
dwelled at aforementioned residence
July first 2025 will be eight years,
and no sooner did both of us set foot
on premises than hearsay
immediately promulgated
(metaphorically swirled about our heads),
and passed like greased lightning
thru the robust grapevine
purportedly wife of mine
brought in live snakes.
Oddly and interestingly enough though,
I never actually never heard nor saw
a fellow resident
talk (or whisper in hushed tones)
about me outright.
Rather than badmouth other feisty folks,
which leaves unpleasant virtual
aftertaste described as phooey zook,
thus comeuppance to reprobate recipients
I activate viz cluck
king silly reasonable rhyme,
(so keeps head up
for urbane adverse city slicker
you better watch out
(...better not shout...) just duck
and run for cover cuz poet took
effluvia enroute spouted by word huck
stir, he avoids naming
(chatterboxes whose lives
so devoid of meaning,
they figuratively kickstart tittle-tattle),
who vocally ramp up
some juicy tidbit with any luck
taking page from former president playbook
letting their lips uncontrollably run a-muck
totally oblivious to credibility factor being a schmuck
buzzfeed initial kernel of truth and truck
outrageous zingers suitable for National Enquirer,
tragicomical, cuz mistruths
courtesy tenants exhibit chutzpah to pluck
farfetched outright lies and innuendos
rolling of tongues of then occupants such as:
"Bible Thumper/Holy Roller,"
"Bingo/ Phat Cathy,""Crooked Old Man,"
"Curvy Girl/Thunder Thighs," "Frumpty Dumpty
"Mush/Smash Mouth, "Snaggletooth,"
"The Bodyguard," "The Fossil," "The Schvartze,"
"Winkle," and last but not leased "Zha Zha”.
Give me fruit flies, mice
and/or roaches any day,
or give me death!
Janice Avery loved deep green nature; like cherry sunset owls, gawping.
She dwelt with her parents and Sissy, when old, golden days were walking.
They lived out in the hilly country, where orangeish stars could be seen;
And summer seemed to last forever, for days held a predominate sheen.
Noons were filled with happiness laughter, that foreshadowed pink moon.
Life was young, but blue world was old. Burgundy butterflies left cocoons!
Mauve fog was doing its fadeaway, as never failing, friends came calling;
When feisty fandango flowers flopped-in scent breezes, sweetly recalling!
Future blooms were dreaming buds, in the spring of faultless, family visits,
Via paths, lined with flowers of familiar hues. Birds sang in willow thickets.
Janice lived in the house of cool shadows, beneath lovely, sheltering oaks;
With colored birds at each window! Back fences, saw many tales and jokes!
Rich, raspberry sun lent sights to remember, on their road of blue flowers.
'Ere reverent night fell richly! Like marmalade change, expected in hours.
Numerous hued clouds were etched nebulously, on dusk skies, blackberry,
When nostalgic neighbors came fondly, as a turquoise moon rose, solitary.
'Midnight valentine' camillas felt Cupid's arrows, under yellow stars of thrall;
And 'Lady Margaret' passionflower vine, in burgundy, crept late to the ball!
'Gay goblin' flowers indulged red revelry, as 'brilliant lilies' rivaled the sun;
When 'sultry scarlet' blooms pined for sunset, like nostalgic noon, undone!
Janice was a birdwatcher, for she loved pretty songbirds' chirps and trills;
But, she wanted to see them up close! So, she put seed on her windowsill.
One day as she was entering the room, she saw a red cardinal, hopping;
And pecking her seed as he hopped. Janice ran, but he was not stopping!
Yet, Janice had gotten a good glimpse of red, like sunset skies, before dark;
With a shake he'd flown into azure sky, destnation garden, or green park.
Janice realized moments are precious, and the briefest, might be golden;
And those are the ones most likely to revisit, once twinkling time is olden!
'Once I saw a little bird
Go hop, hop, hop,
So I said: – little bird,
Will you stop, stop, stop?
Then I was going to the window
To say "How do you do?"
But he shook his little tail,
And away he flew!'
Wayland here again with another clerihew to end the year
These will probably never be famous, but that isn’t the fear
Sometimes the honesty is these may be just a little too strong
They're all done in fun, but some lines seem to go wrong
The philosopher lays the blame in the characters included
Only to what’s written here on the soup has he alluded
No outer sources does he ever interview
I say sorry to those victimized by my clerihew
Mr. Bunch, I don't remember calling myself that
Hasn’t been the one known to avoid a spat
Of what he feels and sees he likes to write
These truly are in fun, with little or no spite
Jack E I haven’t looked yet to see his new work
He has so much wit he could be a funny jerk
But he writes and really abstains from anger
If he got mad though, I’d bet there’d be intellectual danger
Good thing he’s Santa with no time to read these
If you see him, probably don’t mention them please
I don’t want to encourage him with another form
The quatrain that is what has become his norm
Advancing in age but he’s still feisty old Saint Nick
If you don’t believe me you’ll have to read his limerick
I said limerick but he’s naughty in more than one
If you want a particular Santa’s Beard is filled with pun
FJ Thomas seems to enjoy being clerihewed
Her comments leave me believing she’s no prude
An example would leave some saying I’ve a dirty mind
I’d have to say did you really read or are you blind
I’m glad Mrs. Thomas decided not to leave
She felt the affection from the comments she did receive
I try to leave affectionate comments for my part
But I know often times my a** is a little to smart
How many of these about PD could I write
If I started now I’d be here till tomorrow night
She definitely is engrained everywhere just read
I still hold that of a new nemesis she has some need
Then she could destroy her imagery is uncanny
I bet under the bullying category she has many
So sweet and innocent my first impression of her
Then I went back and found why she’s called destroyer
Yes Linda couldn’t have picked a better name
The poor souls that were the victims of her fame
I remember a specific one haven’t seen him around
If she’s looking for a new victim, tell her I can’t be found
Once again note that these are all in fun, and only 99% of this should you believe, lol. I had about 5 more but ran out of space and courage haha.
For Jennifer ( can't believe it's a year already)
Elegance and beauty, a caring heart and zest for life,
a loving mum and nanna, and of course, a perfect wife;
a very special sister, a treasured aunt and friend.
We recognised your need to rest as your days came to an end.
We shared with you such precious times, those memories will stay,
all we have to do is look, and you’ll not be far away.
Your radiance will start our day by way of dawn’s first light,
pushing back the sadness, replacing black of night.
We’ll see you in the morning dew that coats each waking leaf,
as you take away and purify all our tears of grief.
We’ll see you in the birth of spring, in blossom pink and white.
You’ll be the feisty wind that helps a child to fly his kite.
You’ll blow a little harder, to make him laugh and run,
then we’ll smile and say “she hasn’t lost her sense of fun”
You’ll cleanse us with your gentle rains to wash away our fears,
with the summer sun, you’ll warm our hearts and dry our tears.
The vibrant colours of your soul will be the woodland flowers,
you’ll be the fairy sugar plums that help us count the hours.
As autumn falls your hair will be the soft hue of the leaves,
we’ll hear your words of love as autumn breezes brush the trees.
As the depth of winter chills our fingers and our noses ,
we’ll see your fair complexion in the bloom of Christmas roses.
We’ll see you in the faces of your children as they smile,
we’ll hear you in the laughter of Chloe, Amber, Joe and Kyle;
in the lapping of the ocean waves upon the golden sand,
remembering the times you walked with Bernard, hand in hand.
We’ll see you when the evening brings the darkened skies,
each tiny diamond star lit by the sparkle of your eyes.
The soft and silver moonlight will be your gentle touch
to caress the weary faces of those you love so much.
You’ll breathe a silent lullaby that helps us all to sleep,
and as we drift into our dreams, thoughts of you are ours to keep.
*** 2 days before she died, following an unsuccessful bone marrow transplant, my beautiful
aunt asked me if I would write a poem and read it at her funeral. How could I refuse?? It
was an honour, but also one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. One year on, I miss
her so much and think of her daily.
Form:
*Holly (Vault Dweller)*
Hey bartender,
Who's that girl over there,
The one nursing the whiskey in the corner,
She has that press hat one that makes her look...strangely debonair.
*Bartender*
That'll be our little Ms. Piper Wright,
She runs the local paper,
Spends all day looking for a story then types the rest of the night,
Bit standoffish at first but quite the looker.
*Holly*
Hahah I'll say,
Just look at that red trench-coat and suit,
And that piercing stare,
Comes off tart as a mutfruit,
But it just bounces right off her wavy hair,
And goooosssh those lips,
Their silky sheen betrays the steel of her gun,
Dangling from her buxom hips,
Armed with an unabashed tongue,
Clearly her deadliest weapon,
Complimenting her feisty spirit perfectly preserved in an hourglass figure both fair and young,
Fully stocked with an arsenal of wisecracks, worthy armaments for free speech's most sensuous bastion,
Avid journalistic endeavors personify her inquisitive nature,
Reporting the most controversial conspiracy or the latest Publick Occurrences,
With jaw-dropping headlines fueled by her insatiable determination not even the mayor can escape her snooping typewriter,
How this vixen has eluded both the aging of time and voraciousness of lovers is beyond me,
And I think I'm allllmost drunk enough to go over and talk to her,
Should only take me another couple of rounds before I'll have the guts to...ah who am I kidding,
I'm over 200 years old there's no way she'd ever go for a pre-war relic regardless of who well preserved.
*Bartender*
News flash buddy, she's single,
Read today's headlines and you might find the subtle hints,
Listen to her playful comments of life and lust weaved in-between the innocuous babble,
The words may take their place in the articles but her true message is hidden underneath the paper's yellow tint,
She's young and lookin for love just the rest of us here in the Wasteland,
So what've you got to loose hotshot go get her,
Or do you need another round on the house give you the upper hand?
*Holly*
Well damnit bartender one more round it is,
If you don't from her till morning it'll be one of two things,
Either I've been utterly rejected and lying in a ditch,
Or I'll be too busy ignoring the world trying to make her mine.
Geena Davis in Cutthroat Island
Generously endowed with ***** and spirit, GEENA
Engaged a most unusual leading lady role. And DAVIS
Ever so skillfully brought the audience right IN
Not one scene was lacking and it was definitely CUTTHROAT
At death, she shaved her father's head for the treasure map to Cutthroat ISLAND.
Delightful costumes enhanced her role as a pirate, never better PLAYED.
And it appears that no expense was spared to make this fantastic movie. For THE
Violence, explosions, fistfights, and duels are blasting packed, UNPRECEDENTED.
If ever there were awards for the most fun movie to make, this one would be LEADING.
So often, her laughter reminded me of a child pretending, playing the pirate ROLE.
If I were a movie critic judging on entertainment in action, I would give Geena an A.
Naturally, I, who love fantasy, like her in this role; she was: pretty, happy, and FEISTY.
Clearly, she looked like a lady, but a lady would never fight a man with her FIST
Until she was seen on a wanted poster in Jamaica, there had been no SLUGGING...
Then, the pirate, Morgan Adams, and her newly purchased slave, Shaw, needed a GUN.
The Governor's militia started surrounding them; soon bodies were SLINGING,
Her getaway met stealing the Governor's carriage and fist fighting without a SWORD,
Relentlessly pursued, fired upon by cannons with the carriage teetering, SWINGING,
Over ruts, out of town, wide eyed, escaping, and laughing, the epitome of RUTHLESS,
Real passions for a good fight, challenges, and she made pirating seem fun! AND
Throughout the action, suspense captivated; scenery and costumes were BEAUTIFUL.
In the end, she killed her murderous Uncle Dawg in self-defense using a CANNON
She saved Shaw; remained behind briefly with the treasure. No guns were FIRING.
Luckily, they dove off of Dawg’s ship before it exploded, watched by every PIRATE.
After the explosion debris had settled, up from the ocean emerged both he and SHE
Next, a marker barrel popped up. The treasure was brought on board; oh, the WOWS
Divvying was postponed; pirating would continue with Capt. “Morgan” . . .gutsy to ME!
© Name withheld for contest
February 17, 2010
Poetic form: Acrostic and End Line Word
Written: October 1st 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the ocean of silence, I’m stunned
Astonish by its grandeur as I descend.
A comely curtain of conciliatory calm
Elapse the chaos, surreptitious and warm.
In the hushed embrace of the twilight sky,
A silence plummets, ambrosial all nearby.
Astonied hearts stand in solicitous awe.
A comely night implies her ethereal flaw.
Emollient whispers waft into the air.
Surreptitious secrets are shared with care.
Incipient stars start their gentle wafture,
Surreal leaves create a ripple in nature.
Mellifluous melodies mend meteoric might,
Fugacious flimsies that fizzle out of a fight
Gossamer moonbeams cast their diaphanous glow,
Creating an aura of silence, tranquility, and bestow.
Ineffable fairness, fiercely feisty, not frigid,
The break of dawn silenced, as if timid.
Saturnine secrets shrank in secrecy.
Stupendous silence slides, sinewy spree.
Lull launders, looping the limp land,
As warblers start with a duteous band,
Sullen clouds gather, ominous and dark.
Yet awestruck hearts find solace in calm remarks.
Reassuringly, the heavy silence lingers.
Dour faces are glum, yet prudent fingers
Guide the oxymoron of emotions that flow,
Glowering and divine in their quiet glow
In the gloomy hush, discretion gleans hold,
As discerning minds decry peace in the fold,
The prudent ones, with a discreet glance,
Understand the power of silence dance.
Glum faces settle in quiet repose.
Views deepen, and worries dispose
Astounded by stillness, they are in awe.
Of absolute peace that stillness can draw.
Awestricken by the amorphous depth it brings,
They decry solace in the lull that silence sings.
A curtain of calm tumbles, amazed and serene.
As the amorphous depth of quiet is felt and seen.
Inauspicious cruxes balmily soothe fears.
As diaphanous whispers softly, quell tears.
Hinky hearts hearkens a hypothesis behind,
A voice uttered, "Love silence will never hide".
No query or qualm can squeal this bond.
Silence is where my peace is dulcet fond.
In the hushed embrace of the twilight sky,
Silence reigns, and my love will never die.
I’m out to reel in the limelight
as I rhyme tight with sublime might,
filling each line each time without decline
as I climb to a blinding height,
a magical skill of a mastermind shining bright
with dynamite scaling up til miniscule and out of sight,
this is a mystical tale of frightless fight to feisty flight.
Before this I lived in the shadows,
born to be worn hopeless like a saddo,
wearing a beard in bed buried in a burrow,
each today, each yesterday and each tomorrow.
I was stuck in a bubble
contaminated by sorrow,
self destructive in trouble
encapsulated and narrow,
under impact I stumbled
collapsed and fell low,
fractured and crumbled
to be an isolated fellow.
I was falling at speeds that feed friction,
ingredients fire needs in ignition,
sparked into a fireball in free fall,
and out darted a need for survival,
these incidents the mind's designed for,
in a spiral my instincts went primal.
I went from deprived of a drive that life should provide,
to the arrival of survive with no thought to thrive.
Admittedly a little bit of me
could see I had an ability
that was missing ambition to mission
so it lived submissively
in submission.
I started to mine my mind and be mindful,
dug up strength deemed unfindable.
As I exposed my core a force sped forth,
a desire to war poured forward to dwarf
what rivals and install a sure feel of reward,
after I stop this soaring fall to the floor.
Apply my whole mind to try
and stop this nose dive
of a fireball in the sky,
if I couldn’t fly I’d glide
until control was verified
and my wings opened wide.
Dashing out the ashes the Phoenix Rise,
detached from what crashes into land from the skies,
I’m out of this world, The Phoenix Lights,
a marvellous presence with presents for eyes.
I’m Nick Trim they called me a thicky,
I seemed dim they took the mickey,
they made me look silly, it wasn’t tricky,
but I learnt tricks at risk conflict me.
Now I’m the trickster that’s off the Rictar,
flicking the switch to be the victor.
I'm Nicholas Trim and I'm stupendous,
the way I rhyme is just Trimendous.
What a fabulous way to end this,
read my poems and recommend us.
Cathedrals in tea cups. Jingle jangle playtime then. Golden slippers on a carpet of custard. Slip slide. Drip. No droop. Flavoured water is never fake. Obviously. And count the jellied eels in a bath of crumbs. How very entertaining and mystical. Nine senses of the booming giant. When standing upright in a forest count the plates. Tree cups are benign. So never play hop scotch in a thistle plant. Or a fern. The silent rush of a two ton bullfrog is similar to the call of a spotted hippo drinking lemonade. Gurgle gurgle gargle then spit. Spiritually. Wow. The feisty palate of a shrew. Should never be measured in diameters or decibals or put on a graph. Thankyou. Turn a door into a pillow. How glamorous. Pretty little mermaid does not like to be put in a pot. Pig pock peck picking. X. Cluck. Hahahaha. Wonderful. Homely. Heavenly. Heaps. Count heaps. 1 2 3 4 dance with a very large ornately carved melon. Means are neither mice men or moons. Sensual is the tail arch from a shrouded single sentence on legs. Jumping. I would like to go to the zoo. No wandering bean curd is prevalent in a caged wilderness. Exact to type. Specifications. *** placing a plant at vertical angles. And planting willows in a very astronomical alignment. It is always wise when using a fork to hold it up to one's eyes. Hold one's breath. Then at precisely noon curve to the cards. Bow. Then boom. Boom brings basses. Basses bring beauty. So never argue with a dramatic pickle weighing over 900 tons. Hahahaha xx hahahaha and a dew bud. A snowman skipping. Sandstorms in a glow. With or without sticks. Xx PS I will know take a cow and whirl it. To the beat from the walnuts. Good. Mm mystify not senses at left angles. And form an orderly queue in a moonlit heat. Under stars. In deserts. Camels chuckling chucking charismatic charming centered cosmic costumes. *** trapezoidal trapezoid trapezius trapezoidal xx hahahaha how the fish sing la la La Salle xxxx bring not a brochure to a brook. *** eradication *** statutory provisions xxxxx ha xxxx 83% *** privatisation privy xxxx steeple sap. *** ha xx positioned postures paint *** xeonagraphic . Z.
Form:
Journey Journal
KNOWING
By Leon Enriquez
You know the feeling
A deep kind of knowing
A true feel of being
A certain kind showing
Knowing can now tease
A flamboyant life lease
A panache of taut ease
A flavour of plush peace
~~~~~~~~~
Heed if you can bind
A primal peace of mind
A sensuous poise that grinds
A profound touch you find
Seed the idea well
A piquant precious tell
A sanguine rustic spell
A mellow thought that dwells
~~~~~~~~~
Knowing that you know
A vibrant voice vets flow
A steady surplus show
A lavish love lifts glow
Sense a sight of proof
A deeper surreal truth
A fancy frame that roofs
A still dance in a groove
~~~~~~~~~
Feel that mystic cheer
A zest that clusters near
A zeal that fields good cheer
A rainbow that draws near
Glimpse in moments still
A blessing of goodwill
A gentle touch that heals
A pulse of deeper feel
~~~~~~~~~
Here the still point turns
A dance that swirls and churns
A feisty soul that burns
A fleeting feel returns
Poise of simple things
A charming voice that sings
A hundred complex flings
A posture of lost springs
~~~~~~~~~
Whiskey for the road
A toast beyond life loads
A tryst with choice that goads
A prince in guise of toad
Wonder wears a face
A splendour of good grace
A wandering in space
A grandeur of fine trace
~~~~~~~~~
To see in that look
A sensuous breath that hooks
A blessing in a book
A tryst by that old brook
Here with austere feel
A loving-kindness heals
A sparkling touch that thrills
A guiding of goodwill
~~~~~~~~~
Here in passage fine
A message in the wine
A saline stock of brine
A wellness in a mine
Now here with good cheer
A meeting that seeds clear
A voice that thus endears
A sacred space right here
~~~~~~~~~
Watch that movie show
A feisty fleeting flow
A journey quest you know
A feeling impulse grow
Trust true love right here
A poignant pleasure cheers
A profound treasure dear
A primal passion steers
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
27 December 2024
Singapore