Long Fizzled Poems
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While idling away the precious minutes
tapping into the wide whirled web
a smattering of random words and phrases
(in an attempt to jump/kick start
pinteresting material to sink figurative teeth),
thoughts pinwheeled back decades ago,
when attention attuned to forfeited, languished,
squandered... college/university chums,
whose persona, dogma, charisma...
appealed to my contemplative,
introspective, perceptive... prospective
positive interpersonal comrades.
Nonpareil ability to remember
smattering college chums
knowing their first and surname
found yours truly in good stead,
when surfing the Internet
typing critical (race theory - ha) data
within Google search bar
for long lost buddies
than daring to dial
accompanying telephone number
with various and sundry information
experiencing successful results
after a few (tailor made) swift keystrokes.
At first while sitting in front of the Macbook Pro,
no deliberate intent arose to jog memory bank
housing dormant circumstances,
thus I merely let thoughts aimlessly drift
invariably ruminating about mein kampf
in an attempt to craft another poem.
An unexpected outcome regarding
delving into the murky past,
comprising my life and hard times
where I dwelt in a bleak house,
when presence of existential crisis
even then did smolder
within the bowels of me being
analogous to a dormant volcano
gurgling ala lava lee liquid rock.
Nevertheless, I did manage
to strike up warm rapport
with a handful of fellow students,
yet such found camaraderie
fizzled and faded once I withdrew
after matriculating couple of semesters
at about half a dozen
institutions of higher learning.
Now I chide myself neglecting
potential kindred souls,
and ponder what meaningful outcome
can be distilled from fledgling acquaintances
that never given opportunity to flourish.
More challenging to nurture lapsed prospect,
but taking risks adds adventure
to mine rather fluted humdrum existence.
I don't mean any disrespect
I'm just trying to dissect
How your attitude has change
It's backwards and re-arranged
The sweet kind and joyful friend
I once knew is at the end
Of his ropes--no coming back
From the worries you now stack
On each other--one big pile
Of destruction that's a mile
Full of sorrow and anguish
Looking at you I just wish
I could help in any way
Please take me back to the day
You began this downward spin
So I can see that happy grin
Once again before you vanished
Into a heap of pure sad anguish
How did you get turned around
Your happy face now wears a frown
Eyes are red from all the tears
Cold chills on you from the scares
In a corner you just shake
There is a whole lot at stake
As more and more you disappear
The spark that you used to share
With the world has fizzled quick
It is just making me so sick
Thinking how one day I might
Walk in on a horrid fright
As I look into your eyes
The rest of my friend slowly dies
The 80's Became The Present Again
On the coast of Oahu
here, I was on a beach bus,
circling a sweet picture
in my mind,
white sands, blue seas, palms,
rolling all along
in a candy store.
It was a beautiful beach setting,
a beautiful scenic bus ride ...
how can it get any better?
Three college aged girls
wearing the tiniest bikinis
get on.
Satin and those tan lines
stretching my imagination.
Nirvana.
The candy store sales
hit the roof.
The beach bus crooned.
Seated next to me
was an old man,
a few years older than me,
who suddenly became
young again.
His eyes were as conspicuous
as can be,
eyeing the sweets,
especially the brunette
with the black bottom,
who
at first was naive
of giving old dogs a bone.
The old man kept looking like
a kid in a candy store.
He had that open mouth look.
His eyes sparkled.
I did, too.
I was close behind.
My eyes taking sideward
glances through the cracks
of my fingers
seeing the 80's again.
By now the girls are on to us.
No doubt feeling old mens eyes
taking liberties,
poking fantasies,
our eyes and heart palpations
creeping along their skin.
In a fleeting moment
the balloon fizzled.
Gees.
The joke is on us.
Black bottom and her two friends
cover themselves with towels.
There's a hush.
Are those hooves I hear?
Are patrons running back
to the candy store
seeking refunds,
led by the two old men.
They did.
Did the bus lose it's croon?
It did.
There was dryness in my throat
and a fire hydrant wanting to gush loose
in my dreams.
And out of humanity
we look over at the girls,
once again,
collectively,
maybe with repentance
in our eyes this time.
They shrugged,
they smiled,
adding backpacks on top
of their towels.
No.
Yes.
I look out the window.
The 80's became the present again.
connie pachecho
8/21/17
This thirsting land, parched by the sun
An autumn drought, that summer spun
Without the rain, no colors found
Fall foliage fizzled, green to brown
A cheated heart, now feels shortchanged
That natures brush, has been restrained
The trees are bare, north winds have blown
Like fleeting thoughts, how time has flown
Whilst winter waits, at fall's deathbed
To lift my heart, I look ahead
I see bright colors, of early spring
The awakening, of everything
Today the skies are clouded gray
The sun will soon be back to stay
Springs rains will come, Nature will bloom
Reviving hope, replacing gloom
Daniel Turner
When once a lovelorn callow swain,
Heartbroken by a maid's rebuff
Sought balsam for his heart's deep pain,
Of female wiles had had enough,
Grave listener at the local pub,
Sat Tom inured to pangs of love,
Who spoke as lion to his cub
Or to a chick a turtledove.
"Son, weep not! I know thy disarray,
And I recall that time ah! Long gorn by
When I, a callow youf of Harringay,
Did to my first love like a furnace sigh.
With ardent kisses she the fire would stoke.
Oh how the temperature did rise,
Till one day she give it such a soak
That out it fizzled to my woeful cries.
Nought could relieve my darkness until Alice,
A fulsome wench from Walthamstow,
Changed my gloom into a Crystal Palace.
Bang crash the day she found another beau!
Oh nothing salved my bitter bitter spleen,
No medicine, herb, apothecary's lotion,
Till I met a luscious blonde from Woodford Green.
How she set my heart and soul in motion.
All went well until I met her mother,
Who asked in innocence how much I earned.
My honest answer love's fickle flame did smother,
So once again I got my fingers burnt.
By now I'd grown cynical a bit,
So when true love came knocking at my door,
I lost my nerve and had a fainting fit,
And so she went. I saw her nevermore.
Thus, my son, I live to tell the tale.
Renounce the frolics of thy frivolous youth.
A loaf but nibbled soon is hard and stale.
Let wisdom early teach this hard-won truth."
Owning the ability to strikingly be on a rough road.
Need the pride to cross the hazardous paddled rowed.
Caesar energetically settled on a terrible decision.
Cross a no-return line for Rome's dictator to goad.
When they had passed the Rubicon's canyon.
Their battle fizzled into cruel oppression.
Out of the red downpour, passing raised its peak.
Where their bodies swam in an ocean of dejection.
The evil has bestowed on humanity a bleak.
They'll be modified into poisoned minds Greek.
Wanting abundance, they are killing their power.
Projecting havoc on Earth and fueling flames of shriek.
Boomed and dabbed same as a colossal breaker.
Evil masters unleashed devastation ashore and water.
Mores perished, and the Earth was scorched.
God has gotten some distance from man's disaster.
Drink and trust your trick isn't called.
You missed the last outing for no end.
Resting is simple presently; you're patching.
This will happen once all perspectives are tired?
Friends, we're in it for the long stretch being.
There is no way toward the rear for returning.
The briny exit is to move straight forward.
It'll drive us anyplace we crave to be moving.
As his army crossed the Rubicon River, the point of no return, Julius Caesar said the famous lines "Alea lacta est," which means "the dice is cast." This poem discusses apocalyptic prophecies when crossing the Rubicon.
Written: October 11, 2021
Pick-A-Title, Vol 26 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Time and again finances stretched
to breaking point
crackle, pop, and snap
'curse Alfred E. Neuman
smiles at yours truly
(this luckless papa)
with with his toothy gap
haint even Abel nor Cain,
nor I pull myself up
courtesy frayed bootstrap
dirt poor penniless deathtrap
compliments countless many
mashup mechanical mishap
no need to repeat, nor recap,
the litany against
fickle finger of fate
driving me into almshouse
more loathsome versus caught
amidst tsunami size whitecap,
where quick demise accompanied
by deafening air splitting thunderclap,
whereby bolt of blinding lightning
cleaves heavenly vault and
(Friday January 3rd, 2020)
instantaneously immense
mick canonical jagged dagger
blithely grasped courtesy
Usain St Leo Bolt
(yes Olympic runner -
fastest man on Earth
nonchalantly thwarts bajillion volt
tickles hands of said marathoner
analogous to wiretap
blessedly before brilliant
atmospheric electrical discharge
fizzled in feebly limp attempt
to extinguish "fake" charade,
facade, and mockup i.e.
mine burned out life
of Riley (really) ernest
and frank failed to zap
(think) mortally - merely
surface epidermis braised flesh,
synonymous burned out,
bedraggled banged up
resembling an old
and/or rickety vehicle,
none other than our trusty heap
Uriah (hit) to guess
aforementioned oft money pit
accursed said automobile.
I fade away in tears this twilight
as my fears sense the blackening sky,
the elusive night choking the presence of day.
I hide alone in my cellar,
drunk with the stench of my own odor…
wrenched up between “filthy” thoughts.
You crush me beneath your sweaty palm
as you lurk in your soundless shadows
that carve away the decency of my “sickening” mind.
Infested they say it is,
fizzled with rot…
drizzled with uncharmly things.
I curse them with my numb tongue…
these dirty bastards,
I cleanse them with my salivate mouth.
Perhaps I taste the sour life in their veins,
Insane I suck the soul from their weak bodies
to fill my own with another man’s thoughts.
I kiss their wicked lips…
That red evidence of my crime,
allow them to taste their own death…
As they too fade away in tears this twilight.
Form:
Plank or axle
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Two lad's halted child
And men mature bolted out
One chose the plank
The other the axle
They laboured hard
For the slog on commission
They had to do
They sweated all the year's
And ripened old.
They fathered two a child.
Their offspring
Two boys energized
After going out of school
And in a rut ..
One started doing things
Running about on how to put
Bread on the table
The other took
The drug's
Used bad word's
And lazed about
His mother's house.
The day before
Two lass stared
A mirror
And had to choose
Upon a apron or hairdo
The pinny lass
Lived a happy husband life
And fizzled like soda
The fussy lass
Used bad word's
In the dim and
Struggled all her life.
Their cub's
Soda and Pop
Two young men made
One a plank box
For the dead
The other loaded
The mass on his axle
One buried young
One laughed all the time.
Either plank or axle
Men has arm's
Arms and the man
Amen !
Constructed and manufactured
To make and assemble
Read the proverbs
The probity of good proginy.
In the Cain and Able
There can be gauntlet in the chronicle
And a taunt to the struggle
On how to make a living
One can carry a load
And many times
There on a bump
One would curse
The other carry on
And it is obvious
He who does .. wins
He who does not is lost
Either A
Plank or axle make ..
Bolt, nail, screw, weld and tighten
Just do it
And make a start
Life is a load
But not a liar
They shut off our power for about 3 hours
To make needed repairs they say
D'ya know how that affects our daily routine
Like our arm's been cut off half way
No heat, no lights, no computers, no telly
We might as well cash in our chips
Aware it was only from nine until noon
But my mind can't handle this blip
Anything different from my normal routine
Throws me in a kind of a dither
I get all sweaty and my eyes bulge out
My speech starts to slip and slither
I once was able to handle these disruptions
When I was young, handsome and virile
Now that I'm a slobbering vile old man
My mental capacity has fizzled
Some people suffer from a power shortage
Every single day of their lives
Got nothing to do with a disruption of power
Their ageing is in overdrive