Long Fifty eight Poems
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It seems strange now that I did not see
as I joined the dots one, two, and three.
Even through numbers four, five and six,
there was nothing I saw, nada, nix.
The pencil in hand soon did combine
a line between seven, eight, and nine;
then ten, eleven, twelve and thirteen
(past my age) and still, nothing was seen.
I skipped quickly from there to nineteen
yelled; I think it's a giant sardine.
Dad said no, son, you need to do more.
Slowly the line went past twenty-four,
so far, way past, now to forty-four.
The pencil went blunt, my fingers sore.
A big round circle to fifty-eight
I thought I saw it and said wait, wait!
No need to wait 'till hundred and ten
I saw what was there, a big fat hen!
I kept going past hundred and nine,
finished, coloured; it was mighty fine.
Dot to Dot Poetry Contest; placed 2nd
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
Date written: 17th November 2022
More Idiom Humor
Miracle Man
1/23/2024
Some days I just wake up feeling of low self esteem,
I survey the night’s happenings and almost scream.
Other days I feel “dumber than a barrel of hair”,
asking myself this question, Does anyone care?
I’m feeling “as useless as two wagons in a one horse town”.
and, of course it’s the news that has given me my frown.
Sometimes I feel the need of a little morale booster,
but that would be “like putting socks on a rooster”.
I dare not wake Sweetie so I’m “as quiet as a meadow mouse”,
“Because she can start a fight in an empty house”.
I’ll ask what’s for breakfast when I’m craving food,
I can tell by her stare, if “She’s in a horn tossing mood”.
She responds with, “Whatever floats your boat,” smurf,
now I’m left “as confused as a goat on astroTurf”.
After fifty-eight years I’ve grown used to her “naggin”
now, “It’s just about time to put our chairs in the wagon”.
At our advanced age very little induces a laugh,
but my sweetie knows, “if I’ve got a biscuit, she’s got half.”
(disclosure: i would rather decide on the form of, "i don't care", but since it isn't on the menu i chose the next best thing):
i paid
my dues
at thirty two
and i paid
my dues
at forty two
and the last time
i paid
my dues
was at
fifty two
but
now i'm
in between
i don't
mean
i don't
want to
stay in
the club
pay my dues
but who's
to say
if
i refuse to
pay my
dues
you?
who
who might
you mightily
be to excitedly
saying
chanting
praying
that
i owe
dues
do i
or do
i need
to reach
sixty two
to please
you
not me
i'm happy
being
in between
meaning
fifty eight
can't wait
until nine
until six
until
seven heaven forgive
until
eight
until
nine
put the blinders on
retirement shines
so bright
now
I've
gone
blind
i wish
for
forty
nine
i stopped counting. know what i mean? seems every one and any body wants to be young but you have to feel young to be young so shut up and drink your probiotic fat free yogurt with some low fat tissue tastingless flakes from transformed corn that's pornographically genetically grown for possibilities that will preserve the herd or didn't you hear hugh heffner's the word guess you're after birth and maybe a bastard but reality tv is real and the news is fake so take what you get don't feel upset that what was meant isn't what it means obscene street scenes with no blue screen to hide what's real and reeling in a fish what a whopper maybe your daughter or father further from out what seems to stream in reality's sublime surreal realistic sick pathetic rhymes that could go on and on over time every time even not mine but overtime SCORE
who
won
the
super
bowl?
Form:
It was a year of revolutions
Worldwide, quiet little fights
Wanting more from democracy?
Fighting for Civil Rights.?
From Hull three trawlers sank
February, fifty eight lives lost,
Adding to that 10 thousand
Deep sea fishing would finally cost.
They called them Headscarf Heroes
Big Lil lead the housewives, the few
Who stood and fought for
More safety for the crews.
They marched on Downing Street
In defence of their men
Met with PremierHarold Wilson
Up there at Number 10;
United the fishing community
All over the land,
Brought the fight to the public,
Made an historic stand
To fight for basic safety
To fight for better ways
For the men who fished each year
On average over three hundred days.
She was vilified and attacked
Received letters threatening death
But BIg Lil and her companions
Fought with their every breath.
They won many concessions
At their personal cost
The efforts of these ladies
Saved many lives from being lost.
The fishing fleet is finished.
Old Hessle Road is gone.
In time and at a price
This City has moved on.
Such an historic figure
I find it such an awful shame
So very few know or remember
Big Lil and the others names
Lillian Bilocca 1929 - 1988 and the Headscarf Revolutionaries, Christine Jensen, Mary Denness, and Yvonne Blenkinsop,
with respect
I know
When I'm dead and gone
You will say I grocery shopped
And cooked pallet perfect dishes
And served you on silver platter
And perfumed our home
With love and care, just
As your closet, clothes, and shoes
Day in, day out appear
I know you will squirm, knowing
I crushed your crave for authority over me
"Fifty-eight bucks shouldn't go to Health Plex spa
I must cease voluntary service; I don't need school
I'm too old to jog, what's mine is yours."
I know you will grieve
My giving is what kept us poor
Like the rich once bankrupt
Never forget that magical day
After I said, my wealth is with features
Other than dollars, plus!
Don't say we're never going to have anything
Pray about it envision it believe it
And quietly it will come
A few days later, you got a fat check
And so did I
I know you will retrace
What the Cardiologist said
"You have a good heart."
I know you will repeat what I heard you say
"...You forgive and will do the very
Good, you vowed never to help me with"
I know you wish I were every woman
But Iris is the messenger goddess of the rainbow
And that too, my honey, is enough.
*
In high school we met...walked the halls hand in hand;
he carried my books...by our lockers, we'd stand.
We went out to dinner, our special first date,
shared thoughts, later kissed; each had found a soul-mate.
Before very long, our true love appeared strong,
and we knew in each other's arms we belonged.
He joined the Marines after school, end of June.
Our hearts held together by cupid's harpoon.
Consumed by deep love, it was painful to part;
we would meet 'neath our moon many miles apart.
Wrote letters each day and prayed hard for time when
he'd come home on leave, be together again.
Two years later, we married...new life to start.
Now fifty-eight years still each other's sweetheart.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Long Distance Love
Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
Judged: 10/19/2016
~5th Place~
Contest: Our Year In Love
Sponsor: Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Judged: 02/20/2016
A decade together with you,
Loving and learning all ways new.
What is a decade? A decade is ten years,
Ten years of love, laughter, and some tears.
A decade is one hundred twenty months,
A lot of kisses, hugs, but no regrets, not once.
A decade is five hundred twenty-two weeks,
Oh, the highs, the lows, we’ve hit, even several peaks!
A decade is three thousand six- hundred fifty-two days,
We’ve loved each other in good times and bad, we can count the ways.
A decade is eighty-seven thousand, six-hundred fifty-eight hours.
You’ve given your love, kindness, bravery, strength as shared powers.
A decade is five-million, two-hundred fifty-nine thousand, four hundred ninety-two minutes.
Oh, my love, our life, and love together have known no bounds or limits!
A decade is three-hundred fifteen million five hundred sixty-nine thousand five-hundred twenty seconds.
So many kisses, nights of lovemaking, memories made...oh how our future beckons.
We have had a decade of love, fun, good times, and bad.
I would not trade a single one, I, for one, am so very glad.
Glad we met, glad we’ve loved, and glad we are now married.
I am so excited to see how our love has throughout carried.
A decade is not nearly long enough to know,
Yet, for many more years, my love for you I will show.
But, I just want to make you aware,
That I will forever love you, Bear.
© Kristy De La Keur Scoville
If you enter through
The rusty back gate
Messily labeled 105 and
Walk thirty steps to your right,
You will come across
A beaten path
Overgrown with forgotten weeds
And the remnant leaves of autumn.
But twenty steps into the forest,
A maple tree stands alone amongst thorny bushes.
And if you stray here from the path
Fifty-eight steps through the branches,
Listen closely.
For you can hear the hinges
Of a small wooden door
Leading to the home of an elf
Where she returns from her gathering,
Bakes acorn-pie,
And uses buttons to set the table.
If you stay silent
Little pixies
With insect-like wings–
Some with the wings of a bee
Or wings of the teal dragonfly–
Flutter between leaves,
Collecting soft foliage
To sew clothing
In their homes within the trees.
Keep your eyes peeled,
And you may see a gnome
Walking up a hill in the distance
Peeking under logs and bushes
Searching for his squirrel companion.
Then you blink,
And they are gone.
(The Spanish conquerors of the
Americas read out their legal
document, the "Requerimiento",
to the Indians. Failure to comply
meant the Spanish were free to
do what they wanted.)
Conquistadors in Vera Cruz
found themselves a radical ruse.
If pillaging was muy, muy lento,
they just whipped out Requerimiento.
Composed in fifteen seventeen,
this document was ultra-mean.
It won more scraps than Robert E. Lee,
was deadlier than DDT.
Suppose you met an Aztec mob
that wasn't happy to be robbed,
and far from handing on a platter
its gold and silver, wives and daughters,
was minded to contest the matter,
Requerimiento got unrolled.
In legal Latin, gooks were told
with lots of quid and quod and quaem,
exactly what was sought of them.
The royal writ was read aloud
to help the puzzled Aztec crowd.
So none may later look askance,
the dinks got every sporting chance.
All the Aztecs had to do
(clause forty-nine of section two)
was pay the pope an entry fee,
accept infallibility,
and send some gold to line his coffers.
Who could baulk at such an offer?
Clause fifty-eight - the Spanish king
must get his cut of Aztec bling.
They're hazy over "king" and "Spain"?
We'll have long decades to explain.
They don't respond? It simply means
we blow them all to smithereens.
The finer points can wait till later.
Non-compliance means they're traitors.
We've read the thing, so now we're free
of all responsibility
for theft or damage, flood or fire,
and if perchance it should transpire
that they don't dig what's going down,
why, take it up with Cross and Crown.
Thank God it's not like that today.
Before we step into the fray,
we tell them they're a "conflict zone",
and send in laser-guided drones.
If they accept their crude religion
is now a dead and pointless pigeon,
and take divorce and teenage moms,
then we won't use our cluster bombs.
There's other stuff here, on our list -
like Coca-Cola, lobbyists,
The Dukes of Hazzard, John McCain,
obesity and acid rain ...
at least we don't do like before,
and sell them, as we wade ashore
to occupy their ancient land,
some junk they'll never understand.
A Crime
I Had the Sweetest Little Girl.
She Was My Maiden Fair.
I Taught Her to Believe in Life,
And What it Means to Care.
She Grew up to Be a Lady,
Went to School and Became a Nurse.
I Was the Proudest Parent Alive
You Would Have Thought She Was the First.
Then My World Kind of Tilted,
As She Stood There with Her News.
She Said She Had Joined the Service....
It Was Time to Pay Her Dues.
They Sent Her to Vietnam.
She Would Be Gone for Maybe a Year.
I Wrote Letters and Sent Pictures
And Tried to Hide My Fear.
They Knocked on My Door One Day...
Missing in Action They Said.
But How Could That Be??
I Cried...Please God , Don't Let Her Be Dead!
That Prayer Was Never Answered,
But She Finally Was Sent Home.
I Still Have Dreams and Nightmares
About Her Death and Her Dying Alone.
Dear God Please Forgive Me,
I Am So Bitter about That War.
Fifty Eight Thousand of Our Young People Died,
Not Really Knowing What They Were Fighting For.
My Daughter's Name Is on That Wall.
She Died Way Before Her Time .
I Know She Is Not Really Alone,
But to Me...her Death Remains a Crime.
Connie Moore
10/2013