Long First time Poems
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First there was Tiananmen Square,
where tanks flattened people who dared
stand up for their natural rights
against the Socialistic blight.
And then you hit the Falun Gong,
proclaimed that there beliefs were wrong,
force seems your favorite way to quell,
so we say China, what the hell?
Then you go and truly disturb,
harvest organs from prisoners,
there’s evil and there’s Satanic,
how can you do something this sick?
And let’s not leave out the Uighurs,
butchered, locked up, and left with scars,
must everything you do be fell?
Seriously, China, what the hell?
And how can anyone forget
the evil you did to Tibet?
And genocides of Mao Zedong,
killer of sixty million,
you put the butcher on money,
worst killer in all history,
as if he’s cast some vile spell,
honestly China, what the hell?
Now we’re all facing a virus,
because you chose to lie to us,
we could’ve brought it to it’s knees,
if folks had known of it early,
but evidence you tried to hide,
whistleblowers vanished and died,
until cases began to swell,
now it’s out China, what the hell?!
Who stacks animals up in crates,
so they can piss and defecate
on each other in open stalls,
don’t you know food safety at all?
Your wet markets all started this,
a giant, breeding petri dish,
even fools know that won’t end well,
please tell us China, what the hell?
This isn’t even the first time,
SARS, and MERS, and the flu of swine,
a pattern that keeps repeating,
with no solutions, just ranting,
claiming the U.S. is to blame?
Pin it on our soldiers, that’s insane.
Anything to keep it off yourself,
it's disgraceful China, what the hell?
It’s your fault for this dark hour,
and yet you use it to gain power…
I understand Hong Kong’s despair,
and the people stuck living there,
ruled by a cruel, tyrannical state,
an edifice of death and hate,
I hope this ends up as your death knell,
all you ChiComs can go to hell.
First time to travel in a far away land,
Too excited to explore white sands,
My friend and I check in a hotel,
Economy room, price I can’t tell.
Overlooking a great beach to hail,
At a balcony I can feel a cool air,
With a simple hotel room we stayed,
I enjoyed the ambiance as what they said.
One king sized bed with two white pillows,
Bed sheets too white to crumpled with,
New experience but there’s more to follow,
In our hotel room it’s more than I expected.
One television, one painting, and one refrigerator,
The food is excellent you might want to order more,
Three days and two nights staying in the hotel room,
Leaving it too soon my heart is in so much gloom.
February 7, 2013
I scrubbed the shame from under my fingernails,
as if guilt could be washed like dirt.
Cold showers never baptized the ache;
just gave it discipline,
a neat little collar for the beast inside.
They called me godly.
I stood on pulpits of silence,
hiding my hard truths in folded hands
and stitched lips.
“Virtue,” I said once,
like it was a sword I forged from purity.
But truth?
I was celibate because I was afraid.
Afraid that my hunger would make the church tremble.
Afraid of the moan
that would betray my masculinity,
that would out the softness
under my well-pressed sermons.
You were my fifth year of Sunday bests and unwashed bedsheets,
a ghost in my room,
waiting for me to touch you
with more than doctrine.
“You’re mistaking sexual sparks for soul,”
I told you once,
coldly, like I had never burned for you.
But I had.
God knows,
I choked on the fire every night.
You slammed the door with your back turned,
spat,
“The sex only felt euphoric because I was starving everywhere else.”
Your words landed like psalms of rebellion.
And maybe you were right.
Because in my celibate kingdom,
I reigned alone.
Hard, holy, and unheld.
They told me it was wisdom.
That lust is a devil’s whisper,
not knowing it’s also a scream of aliveness.
But is virtue still virtue
if it silences the body
just to please the soul?
I have loved with my eyes shut tight,
and prayed the ******** away;
but my prayers stank of fear,
not faith.
Let’s not pretend,
that choosing not to
makes me cleaner than the one who moaned last night
with the lights on
and the shame off.
This is not
an altar call to purity culture.
This is not
a hymn of repression.
This is me,
uncloaked,
a sinner in skin,
redefining holiness in the mirror.
Touché,
you said.
And I bled truth
for the first time
without guilt.
I’m having the craziest time in the Soup
I never knew how perilous that it could be.
But since I landed here loopity-loop,
I’ve felt like the chicken of some really weird sea.
It sure looked delicious the first time that I flew
over the attractive bowl, so that’s why I swooped down.
But then I got too low; my small body, it fell through
the surface of the creamy soup! Oh I fear I’ll drown!
My wings, how they’ve struggled, but it’s just too thick.
Cream of chicken, so tasty, is going to be my demise.
I’m sinking and I’m sinking and now I feel so sick.
Farewell! Beware of Soup, my dear fellow flies!
Aug. 7, 2020 for Caren Krutsinger's Craziest Time At The Poetry Contest
Choise 2: Craziest Time in the Soup
116 Words according to https://wordcounter.net/
Dedication:
To God and Innocence
Today was a day born of imagery.
As if born from a child's dream.
The leaves were swirling, golden and crimson,
auburn and cream.
So scent treant, alive, it deemed.
The sound breezed softly,
churning whiskered branches.
Foliage and vibrations caught in their advances.
I may have woken up predisposed, expecting.
But it wasn't just me connecting to me.
Someone was directing, an Act III.
Something from my dreams attached itself and was
sentiently released in it's new world-blessed,
and met with it's liberator to walk a spell among
the trees and me and the stealthy nests.
In a visitation of a baptism and a dream
crossing over.
released, in roll
a reversal of momentary captivity scroll
of my mind's eye
in order to be ultimately freed.
As I walked there in the fragrances of the forest
amongst Life's Grove of Tree.
A girl with wings sassy slapped me as a walk-by.
A signature move that says for no particular reason.
"Hello."
Someone, put a warning sign on that attitude,
such rare earth and good to the soul to find.
A golden touch, out of the blue and filling
the clear expanse of my mind.
A random act from a stranger, that
equated to "hello brother I am meeting
for the first time.?"
'Just think,
eons from now as we look and talk of our Genesis.
Remember the beautiful day we first met.
A birthday for our relationship, albeit-
a landmark, well received, straight to the mark.
By more than a kindled Spirit.
But of a kindred Spirit with a flint and it's spark.
Sewage Breath
He doesn’t see his family and is barred from all jobs
that have strict high personal hygiene rules.
It was his fault. His shocking sewage breath makes people vomit pools.
That, of course, made him intensely
angry and too sad.
Every day he felt for having sewage breath, for making people sick, extremely bad.
There was nothing he could do.
Brushing his teeth with toothpaste ten times a day
never once got rid of
that worst smell ever that kept every one at bay.
Before vomiting the doctor said, ‘Um, the cause
you were born with it. Because ...
Kidney disease isn’t the cause.
Diabetes or something else isn’t the cause.
There’s no explanation for the cause.’
So as to make amends the police had to
hire Sewage Breath to work in the coast mountain sewers, and ten times he said, ‘Thank You.’
His job was to
breath on the drug dealers so they’d spew.
Thousands of drugs were seized.
Thousands of lives were saved. Yahoo!
Sewage Breath felt calm and happy.
He felt so so so good for first time. Yahoo!
Though the public
and his family were so so so proud of him
they decided that because his
sewage breath was never going to go from him,
it’d be better he live in the sewers,
better for them and him.
A brand new decade, now we face!
Year Twenty-Twenty, let's embrace.
Pray our mistakes we can erase
with better dreams to find and chase-
and stronger faith to grant us grace.
Let's relish life- slow down the pace-
our paths of happiness, retrace-
with friends and loved ones, interface
more often now, for just in case-
tomorrow they cannot outpace.
Make Twenty-Twenty a showcase-
a brotherhood with every race-
all hate, with love, try to replace.
This country, honor, not disgrace-
united strong, support our space.
A brand new decade- now in place!
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: First Time Here - Monorhyme
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Judged: 01/15/2020
The first time, I saw my love it was a moment in time,
It was a spiritual experience and I was swept away;
I abandoned myself to this perfect head-spinning love,
Obsessive musings, like an addict with mood swings.
It was more than his physical attractiveness for me,
I was lost in a dream of a forever, ever beautiful love;
Falling for him was like falling into a crystal clear stream,
I dreamed again and again of our precious moments.
I was an emotional wreck, who could not sleep or even eat,
My heart beat faster when he was even just talking;
When we were apart, I was full of longing and anxiety,
Falling in love is very bizarre, it creeps up magically.
Soon our lifes were entwined and we were deeply bonded,
Coated with desire, respect and a genuine courtship;
I let go of expectations and overlooked all his negative,
He was my lover, my friend and my companion always.
We never crowded each other, we both had an outside life,
With our own interests and friends, our eyes never roamed;
Sadly, we buried a child on our journey and that made us stronger,
He took this weeping girl that was me and I was healed.
Then, the unimaginable happened, my love was taken away,
Another path was written for him and I was left far behind;
I only find my love down a winding path in a place of tears,
His name engraved in cold stone for all of eternity.
But, my love for him endures and will never, ever dissipate,
Our bond is endless, and I know he waits beyond the clouds;
It is a love that even death cannot destroy, and it will go on and on,
And in my dreams, he lives still, quiet, gentle and strong.
___________________________
September 28, 2015
Narrative
Submitted to the contest, 101 In A Row - 6
Sponsor, PD
Third Place
________________________________________
Written for the contest, Falling in Love,
sponsor, Aiyah de Torres
First Place
I keep up with the flow
bitten nails go to show
the truth is hard to tell
if easy listening is what your looking for switch the station
I paint the nails to let them grow
reality sits down below
wave from the cloud
don't let em know
I know how to walk through hell
only hell I've known
waltz really
with closed eyes the whole time
how am I to know
what it looks like, down below?
I paint my nails to let em grow
the only truth I've ever known
has run away, to another city, on another plane
I don't miss him anymore
just gonna write a few more poems about him
I paint my nails to let em grow
December's walking in front of traffic, despite the changing lights
First time I've tasted snow on my tongue in fourteen years
what if my palette changed?
Or worse
I remain forever the same?
First time I remember attending a dance at school
White bucks and a sport coat, feeling like a fool
All week I’d played 45’s and practiced how to dance
I was nearly thirteen now so it was time to take a chance
I walked into the auditorium, friends met me at the door
Ricky singing Poor Little Fool and she danced across the floor
I stared at her, felt my heart go pop when she turned her head
I caught her eye, saw her smile, and felt my face turn red
I was frozen to the floor, didn’t know what to say to the girl
In the corner I stayed, while the DJ played The Duke of Earl
Robin Luke sang Susie Darlin’ and the time was passing by
Then Jack Scott was crooning My True Love and I could only sigh
Chuck Berry wailing Almost Grown, it would soon be time to leave
DJ announced ladies choice with It’s Only Make Believe
It was like a dream come true when I turned around to see
Her standing there and I heard her say will you dance with me.