Long Foolhardy Poems
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Words can be whimsical, a merry-go-round
They run in a circle, they bounce up and down
They play hide-and-seek, until they are found
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
Words can seduce like a scandalous dance
They'll perplex the complex, if given a chance
They're as sincere as England, as sexy as France
As reckless as the caution they throw
Words can get tipsy if taken too much
The pretentious go on-and-on about such-and-such
The brutish ones can bail you out in a clutch
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Words can be tacky, tongue wagging gabs
Words can be lavish and leave you the tab
Words can covertly steal and grab
Their smile is only for show
Words can impulsively issue a dare
Words can react with extravagant flair
But words must always be handled with care
When timing's too slow, for words on the go
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
As reckless as the caution they throw
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Their smile is only for show
When timing's too slow
For words on the go-
8/7/18
Long years ago, you heard I fell,
just tumbled from a wall and—SPLAT!
I’d not be whole again, all said.
I’m here to follow up on that.
The King’s men scraped my pieces up.
It seemed they’d better things to do
than put me back together right.
I think they used Gorilla Glue.*
Now here I am, a messed-up sight,
a monster much like Frankenstein.
My body parts are all askew.
Not even my eyeballs align.
I'm feared, avoided, ridiculed.
I've no place in society.
Made a pariah by my looks,
though not in prison, I'm not free.
I hoped corrective surgeries
would fix me; so I filed a claim.
It was denied. It seems that for
my brokenness, I was to blame.
Here's what the agent said. I quote:
"Foolhardy eggs that perch on walls
should know that someday they'll get hurt.
They've asked for whatever befalls."
*popular product advertised as “the
toughest adhesive on the planet”
Labyrinthia P. Babineaux …………… The White Witch of the Lower 9th Ward
Papa Babineaux …………………………… The Father, an honest apothecary
Algebra Babineaux ……………………… The even-tempered Mother
Bumblebee Babineaux ………………… The precocious younger Sister
Gnat Babineaux …………………………… The curious little Brother
Cabernet Babineaux …………………… The distant Cousin
Ulysses “Zully” Kowolski ……………… The world-weary Sailorman
Nikita Something ………………………… The learned Creole Seer
Mitchell Hollywood ………………………. The adulterous Inn Keeper
Tom Sickley …………………………………… The disingenuous Feather Merchant
Fr. Marcus Paternoster ……………...... The lecherous Clergyman
Steve Merkin ………………………………… The unscrupulous Accountant
Vince Fettish ………………………………… The nefarious Fantasy Man
Xerxes the Great …………………………… The Emperor of Persia and Media
Dante Foolhardy …………………………... The Stultifying Court Jester
John Travailleur, Esq. …………………… Just another John
Plus … townspeople, pirates, Indians, street musicians and beggars, Cajuns, swamp rats, women, young ladies, and girls.
Noah survived the flood with sons Japheth, Ham, and Shem.
Along with the animals of the earth, God spared them.
With floods, He vowed never again to do such a thing.
God made a covenant with Noah and his offspring:
“You and your sons shall populate the world as you go.
Look up into the clouds and you shall see My rainbow.
This is a sign the covenant is everlasting.
All creatures shall thrive, along with each human being.”
Noah’s grandson, firstborn of Ham, Canaan was his name.
He had to serve Shem and Japheth because he brought shame.
Ham also gave birth to Cush; who in turn brought Raamah.
Raamah extended the line with Dedan and Sheba.
Shem was fruitful producing many generations.
Arphaxad and Aram’s progeny would lead nations.
Among Japheth’s seven sons were Gomer and Javan
Their descendents also had produced many children.
Among Ham’s descendents was a king who defied God.
A mighty hunter and warrior, he was Nimrod.
His kingdom had contained land from Babylonia.
Moreover, it stretched as far south as Assyria.
His great cities included Calah and Nineveh.
They lived on land between the Euphrates and Tigris.
His people united and strong were making progress.
Nimrod proclaimed, “We have one language and great power.
Let us assemble and raise a very tall tower.
This ziggurat will provide a stairway to a star.
We are an ambitious people, and we can go far!”
A new great city appeared on the plain of Shinar.
With formidable walls constructed with bricks and tar.
God realized these persons were filling with contempt,
He wished to halt their foolhardy fallacious attempt.
Perplexing their language among them caused confusion.
They stopped construction and divided with diffusion.
God’s almighty power can never be defeated.
Therefore, the Tower Of Babel was not completed.
A ziggurat is a temple of Babylonian architecture resembling a pyramid. It begins
with either a square or a rectangular base. Additional stories with smaller floor
space create a terrace effect on each level.
Genesis Chapters 8-11
.
Hopelessly mesmerized by your exquisite allure,
There was no verse to express this hypnotic trance.
Trapped in bright orbs of speckled green fire,
I became an instant captive to your fixed gaze.
Your lethal glance stabbed my pulsating heart;
As I was left gasping for breath, body trembling.
With one sultry, seductive flutter of thick lash,
The last seeds of fruitless defiance had expired.
What could possibly break this addictive, narcotic spell?
And who would be foolhardy enough to wish rehabilitation?
Mighty torrents of cascading and turbulent desire,
Washed me forever down a deep, unmeasured stream.
Oh, what a prophesized, delectable death that awaited;
As I readily and blissfully courted my final termination.
I was drowning in a whirlpool of primative passion,
Eternally caught looking into the eyes that bind.
trees dilly-O sing.
mellow skies surmise —
they’re not quite blue, white nor gray.
knocking in front and back —
pileated woodpeckers, shockers
with crests, crafty
to home owls and bats,
like royal courts of yore
dillydally the enemy within
mine walls.
the oaks shade their eyes,
press into my panes,
scratch during a storm,
rain on my parade.
yet, I can’t help...but adore
the pines and oaks,
ivy that wraps serpentine around bark,
wild flowers ready to leap
on ballet toes,
touch my nose with romantic scent.
so Spring,
the sachet of hidden things,
like a freeze game come to life
with intrigue, potentiality
of pairings — doves, robins,
crows and the like.
what if i could climb the tall trunk
high, below the unseen clouds —
easy does it.
my hair sailing like a pirate.
my grin foolhardy.
my heart doesn’t know what it needs.
it needs trees.
2/27/2021
We Watched the Ceremony
15th Anniversary of 9/11
By Franklin Price
9/11/2016
We watched the ceremony
The reading of each name
Each killed by acts of terror
We will never be the same
Each thought that they would be alive
To join family and friends
When that dreadful day was over
Did not expect to meet their ends
The day was bright and sunny
Planes came from clear blue sky
To crash into the towers
To make the thousands die
Most did did not die in combat
As did the firemen and law
Heroes rushing to their duty
To aid the needy that they saw
There was no rhyme or reason
Only terror to display
To disrupt our once great country
And we the people on that day
They were quite successful
Made us angry one and all
Awoke the giant from sleeping
Who with resources came to call
Was intelligence foolhardy
Misdirected by Iraq
Should not have ever gone there
But we can never take that back
Lost sight of the terrorists
Who put the towers to the ground
Need to wipe the earth of them
So none are left around
Should be no quarter given
Should destroy them one and all
Only then can there be closure
For those dying in the fall
I stand in the midst of swirling sand
of this arid and sun-ravaged land,
I hold in my hand a vibrant rose
From this harsh sun I shielded it close.
A solitary rose; yet how did it wilt
right in my hand that I feel guilt--
Oh God, did I embrace it too close?
Why was I not able to save my red rose,
Petal by petal it fell apart on the ground
breaking my heart asunder but nary a sound;
A measly flower-- is that all you see?
A whimsical notion, a foolhardy task of me.
I kissed this denuded stem with my undying love,
Damnation has befallen like a lightning from above
And the heavens stood by as my love lay dying
while I was weeping, while I was crying.
Thus let me this much to you all assure--
Never will I lay my hand on a thing so pure;
Yet, if all my lofty hopes dissipate erelong
I stand guilty I confess, I did do wrong.
I was a fool; it was but a frivolous scheme
A rose to bloom in wilderness was my dream!
(Inspired by “A Dream within a Dream” by Edgar Allan Poe)
~08/05/17
~"Fallen Angel" contest by Laura Loo
I stand in the midst of swirling sand
of this arid and sun-ravaged land,
I hold in my hand a vibrant rose
From this harsh sun I shielded it close.
A solitary rose; yet how did it wilt
right in my hand that I feel guilt--
Oh God, did I embrace it too close?
Why was I not able to save my red rose,
Petal by petal it fell apart on the ground
breaking my heart asunder but nary a sound;
A measly flower-- is that all you see?
A whimsical notion, a foolhardy task of me!
I kissed this denuded stem with my undying love,
Damnation has befallen like a lightning from above
And the heavens stood by as my love lay dying
while I was weeping, while I was crying.
Thus let me this much to you all assure--
Never will I lay my hand on a thing so pure;
Yet, if all my lofty hopes dissipate erelong
I stand guilty I confess, I did do wrong.
I was a fool; it was but a frivolous scheme
A rose to bloom in wilderness was my dream!
(Inspired by “A Dream within a Dream” by Edgar Allan Poe)
Put Your Best Poe forward contest by Tommy Boy
Often after the fallen snow is swept, glory
Is found when the treading surface is clear.
A light dusting is a breeze to remove. For heavy slush I trade
My broom for a shovel. It is foolhardy to pretend
That things with bristles can glide
Between and expand the substrate/snow interface.
Between the air and my skin there is no interface
Even my coon skin cap only provides small glory
Reminding me that menthol shaving cream enhances the glide
Of my razor and the sting of the cold air, but also makes clear
My ambition to clear the snow away and not pretend
To scatter dandruff from the icy landscape. It seems I must trade
My alter ego of a cosmetologist for that of a cosmologist. Such a trade
Will enable me to outgrow this climate. Then my interface
Communication skills will improve so I won’t use silence to pretend
I am a solid, deep thinking woodsman and I can just enjoy the glory
Of making small talk about the weather, thus allowing me to clear
My conscience about past regrets and glide
Through interpersonal interactions moment by moment. Ah! To glide
Like snow from the blade of a shovel, I wouldn’t trade
That social grace for 10,000 driveways clear
Of snow or ice or volcanic ash. Interface--
That common boundary, the transition from disgrace to glory
As I become a cosmologist and no longer pretend
That people are stupid zoo animals and hopefully not pretend
That I am a stupid zoo animal. Seasons of the year glide
Together and glide apart. Midwinter ice in all its glory
Is dangerous and fun. Will you trade
Your cramp-ons for ice skates? The seasonal interface
From spring to summer is never clear.
The same is true for the other seasons, let’s be clear
About that. I have stressed this before and will again; to pretend
Is to deny. Everything solitary has an interface
With something else and therefore is not solitary. To glide
Is to not experience friction. At some point you may want to trade
Slip for grip. Never bask in glory
Unearned. The web interface has clear
Flaws, don’t be ignorant. Glory may never pretend
To glide toward despair, but neither of those would I be willing to trade.