Long First floor Poems
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McGee and Finn where working again
performing some road repairs
Across from a place of constant disgrace
A den of sorted affairs
Soon comes by, a Jewish Rabbi
And after the coast seemed clear,
slips on in, to the house of sin
And all Finn could do was sneer
"Is nothing holy to a man of the cloth"
Said McGee while raising his spade
I won't be his judge, nor carry a grudge
But I'm sure he'll be measured and weigh
A little while after, there came an old Pastor
who lurked around the front door
Keeping and eye, if someone might spy
Him darting in the first floor
But McGee caught sight of this sinners delight
and looked to the heavens again
And said "These Protestants know nothing of God"
With his hand on his heart, agreed Finn
A short while later, both excavators, notice a Catholic Priest
He was looking around, to see no one was found
And both were surprised, said the least
When the Priest went on in, to that dark house of sin
Then McGee just started to cry,
With his hat in his hand, spoke to Finn once again
Proclaiming
"One of the girls must have died"
the last days of exams and school,
and beginning of hot summer,
licking fresh ice lollies to cool,
eat mangoes without number!
no more reading no more homework,
all of the day is mine to spend,
under shady banian we perch,
till the heat fades and the day ends.
at night we sleep in the open,
on the first floor verandah bed,
and search amongst stars good omen,
and have gran all our fortunes read!
three hot months of fun, play and joy,
in peak heat of May, June, July,
those idyll days spent as a boy,
are here to haunt and make me cry!
Written 10/09/2021
John Lawless sponsored
Rhyme checked in RZ
8 syllables each line
with abab rhyme sequence
First sighting
It was an early summer morning when my best friend Edwin
threw pebbles on my window to wake me up
I like morning slumber, waking up at six, looking at the alarm
the clock on the bedstand and think of two hours more sleep.
Ewin said there was a big ship at the dock fully laden with
copra; five minutes later, I joined him as we ran to
the harbour to collect the broken nuts.
When unloading, bits of copra fell down; we had pockets
full of it, and the white flesh was still soft and chewable.
Look, said Edwin, and there, on the gangway, stood
the first black person we had ever seen; he had a bag
in his hands that turned out to have booze and cigarettes.
We took him home to our street to show him to my mother
She was working, but my aunt, living on the first floor
took him in; we were milling about till she threw us out.
Two days are gone, a tall -in our eyes- old man, the captain
who came looking for his cook.
He is from Sudan, the captain said, which, meant
little or us and he is black, oh, him, he is in my aunt's flat.
Half an hour later, the captain and his cook walked
to the ship, we followed at a respectful distance to think
a captain!
On the gangway, the Sudanese waved to us he looked
Happy smiling, broadly; it was a day everybody was happy
the crew waited to be fed, my aunt sat in a chair in
her flat smoking ready-made cigarettes.
The Royal Stonestreet 42
In the house in Stavanger, Norway, where I grew up four families were living in poverty after the war in 1945, well, poverty was relative as we were able to survive without social interference
In the basement, an elderly man had two bedrooms and a kitchen he had to share every Saturday when the women were washing clothes and ironing
The elderly man was mysterious he had female visits every so often, who drank and fought when the police were called the women had to leave, but the old man was not arrested, it turned out he had been a hero no one knew why, since he was mother’s uncle she didn’t know either
On the first floor lived two families, one had only one room and shared a kitchen with a family that had two rooms, but no one had a bathroom there was a toilet on their landing that was for the whole house, and filthy dirty on the second floor a woman called Sunway lived with her two sons she shared a kitchen with us who had two rooms when Sunway had male visitors, her sons had to sit in the hallway, not that her guests stayed long, but the hallway was a bit cold on winter days, but they were always well-dressed and polite
The father of the youngest son was a German soldier, he believed his mother drank coffee and talked to her friend the door was looked at as they didn’t like to be disturbed by children running around, and the oldest son wore a smirk like he knew what was going on
When a rumor circulated that Sunway was a prostitute, my mother who at the time worked at a fish factory, defended her, the woman had
no income and had to look after her sons Sunway eventually got a bigger flat with two bedrooms for her two boys, the youngest one went to university and did well, and the oldest one didn't work lived with his mother, but was arrested for raping his mother and beating her was sent to prison.
I wonder why it is when time was hard some survived intact while others became a burden to themselves and drowned in shame.
One rain-soaked morning at the mill owner’s behest they assembled on the hillside.
High above his workers’ harsh existence, building commenced on the mansion.
Brick by brick, inch by inch I emerged.
First floor reached, two sturdy hollow legs joined to form my trunk.
Upward they built, two more storeys, the roof and then my finery.
Ornate brickwork topped with a jaunty pot – I was the dandy of the mansion.
In cast-iron fireplaces fires roared sending hot smoke through my body.
I was alive, smoke belched out announcing my arrival.
Days turned into weeks turned into years – I became the house’s backbone.
In those early years small boys would lovingly clean my inners of tar and soot.
But this intimate relationship would soon be replaced by cold mechanical brushes.
Decembers arrived and the children posted their secret letters to Santa.
Once devoid of paper their words flowed along my warm smoky currents upwards and northwards.
In war years I served as a refuge for family treasures lovingly packed in tin boxes.
Some were forgotten and still wait to be rediscovered.
On cold winter’s days my warmth was like a homing beacon.
Rooks, crows, pigeons circled like aircraft waiting to land on my warm terracotta pot.
But alas I was not part of the modern way – my starring days were over.
Birds migrated as metal veins connected to gas fires transported toxic cocktails to the rooftops.
Then gas fires were removed, fireplaces blocked up – stale air lingered deep inside me.
My pot no longer a crowning glory was replaced by a concrete capstone.
And now I’m hidden – my external limb amputated through reroofing.
I’m still, I’m silent but I will always remain chimney.
Hello!
Yes, I got your number from my sister.
She got it from the bulletin board at the “Stop, Shop and Save-a-lot”
I’m calling about the ad for “cleaning lady needed”
I have a couple of questions.
How many bathrooms are in the home?
I have a problem holding water. I don’t mean like, in a bucket!
I mean holding my water. When I have to go, I need a bathroom close by.
But, don’t worry, if I make wet, I’ll clean it up good, and you’d never know it.
On my last job, there were three facilities and that worked out great, except for the time
the grandbaby stuffed a tomato in the upstairs toilet and the water overflowed.
It leaked all the way down to the first floor; I felt it dripping on my head.
Boy, I cleaned that up fast, didn’t want them to blame it on me!
What’s that you say?
You didn’t post an ad to the board?
Well, could you put me through the family who did?
And hurry - I gotta go!
Thank you
Dedicated to my favorite cleaning lady, Evelyn!!!
One dark night takes me on a ride to an isolated hill where I inhale unpleasantness ..
Wide gleamy monstrous gate opens as the mighty wind blows,
creepy ferns crawl all over the floor.
Eerie garden awaits the lost lover's presence;
There stands a haunted home with a grubby porch at the entrance.
The magnanimous door welcomes me unwaveringly;
To the right there's slaughter hall polished with blood stains.
On the wall, hung portrait of a lady wearing a long red gown with a silver hat and a golden rosette stapled;
Beside protruded, a yearning window decorated by cob webs;
To the left led staircase ,as I step on railing, it crackles like hatching eggs; Carefully I manage to reach the first floor and confronted a quiet room occupied by constant whispers & spine-chilling whimpers...I slowly move inside and envision nothing strange,but I feel something moist dripping on my cheeks from the roof above.
When I look up, the entire strong ceiling collapses,
disembodied spirit arises,floating on air,observes the decaying house from a distance.
14-7-2020
~Deepa. V~
First place in the contest:-)
Note: Decaying house Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by A Dear Heart(Constance)
Perhaps I will die for a reason, not so strong
A translation of a poem of Humayun Azad
Perhaps I will die for a reason, not so strong
For a little dandelion
for a trickling dewdrop
Perhaps I will die on a windy summer day
For a swirling petal of a flower, blown away afar
For a drop of rain.
Perhaps I will die for a reason, not so strong
For a humming magpie robin
For a smiling face of a baby, smile lines.
Perhaps I will die for my serene oasis in someone's eyes
Tear drops within
For a drop of sunlight.
Perhaps I will die for a reason, not so strong
For a streak of moon light
For a piece of wandering cloud
Perhaps I will die on the Twenty first floor of the tower
For a lost butterfly
For a drop of green.
Perhaps I will for a reason, very ordinary
For a dream, a lonely dream
for a grief, very own
Perhaps I will die in someone's sleep
For a little spontaneous time, when we breathe
For a droplet of beauty.
The white wall
To begin a new cycle is hard not much happens around here, the street is the same as yesterday Rui, the English, is still working the till at the local supermarket, smiles, speaks upper-class English, And carries a secret, I would like to know about
I think he is from a wealthy family, but a scandal broke out, he made the housemaid pregnant, and in his circle, it was seen as the apogee of horror, or he was involved in financial fraud and had to leave, hide, and change his name to Rui
At lunch, in the café on the first floor of our building, the old couple sat. The man, who is in love with my wife came over for a chat, and his wife smiled she knows her husband was useless, as for me. How can I be jealous of a man who is older than me?
Nothing else happened that day except for Trump, who wanted The Panama Canal and Greenland too, this pathetic, old President with his blond hair trying to look young, but he is not fooling us, this idiot trying to buy Gaza and move the population to Egypt
Then it was late afternoon and time for a nap
"Police claimed that because most of the body had been skeletonized, no resuscitation attempt was performed." Quoted from an article on the internet.
They said from the clothes he wore that he was a male
Really in the year 2022, one cannot tell from a person's dress
Nor what might happen if you pronounce a sex
Coroner look closely again at skeleton left
The body was found by someone doing a YouTube report
He was going around exploring and filming abandoned building
He had to climb a ladder to enter this building that had been a church, but
All boarded up for so long, therefore entrance on the first floor to the church~
Impossible
The second floor was living quarters where the deceased was discovered
It had been ten years plus since the church was an active, ongoing fellowship
So much can happen in ten years plus
A live human being can become skeletonized
I wonder who he was, did his family want to learn what had happened
Were they missing him and desiring his return
Will they ever learn the fate of their loved one who had gone missing
Is there enough material to do a DNA sample?
Did his loved one's life go on just like before or
Has their life been suspended in time waiting
Waiting, waiting, waiting, watching, waiting, longing, crying or
Glad that the person has gone on somewhere else
Matthew 25: 13. Therefore, be on the alert [be prepared and ready], for you do not know the day nor the hour [when the Son of Man will come]. Amplified Bible ( This does not refer to our time of death, but it made me think about how we don't know.)
Date Written: 8/23/2022
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13
Sponsor: Mark Toney