Long Getaway Poems
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She really wanted to see a ghost…ecstatically excited.
She heard this place had plenty, and a spooky atmosphere.
She’d have to pinch herself, ready to cheer…elated.
She’d spend a romantic weekend there with a freaking-out spouse.
He’s a scaredy-cat! He rarely finds anything funny!
He stutters. He’s bony. Of course she fibbed to him.
A mansion on the cliffs, buried behind briars and thorns.
You could hear the roar of the tide, far below, over the rocks.
Bitter thunder and lightning— oh Angela’s freaking stunned.
Couldn’t ask for a nicer day - husband’s a shivering bag of bones.
The thick, heavy door, with unrelenting ‘turn on back,’ opens
nonetheless. Angela prods and pulls her Jack, into the lair,
as the door closes and bolts. He’s crying like a baby, inside.
The romantic getaway’s bleek and dark, except for candelabra
here and there, in this statistically bad idea. Angela just knows
she’ll get a look-see at the afterlife - a welcoming sight.
Jack be nimble…Jack be quick…Jack wants to jump
over the candlestick and hit the bricks. Without a boo,
she tries to resurrect a ghost or two. “C’mon out! I’m
raring to see you. Don’t play hide’n seek. Show yourself.”
She’s so giddy with no care about her scared to death spouse.
Angela laughs as wisps of smoke take form, as snowy cotton
shifts, as the familiar “oohs” and “boos” uplift. Terrified Jack’s
in no laughing mood. He hides himself in the corners of the room.
Suddenly it gets very cold, and a very bold ghost has a hold
on a candelabra, shines over the face of Jack, “Don’t you worry,
son, this will make you crack a smile,” surprisingly reassuring.
The ghost grins, as he spins touché over to Angela, “Is this
all you were hoping for?” He bellows with his mighty flue,
turns gray-green, skeletal too, eyes out of sockets. Flames
of the candelabra catch her curls and girly-mustache too.
From the corner, a full-throttle laughter emerges from Jack
as Angela is laid out on her back. The specter adds a pillow
and a gravestone to the act. The ghost ribs Jack,
“I rather like your bones, son. Let’s see you rattle and roll.”
Welcomed out the door, Jack leaves without a wife.
10/13/2021
Chantelle Cooke’s Ghost Lace Contest
Autumn leaves and melancholy
The city park an Oasis for a lovers stroll
As the cold nights invade the city lights
Park benches, the hotels for the homeless
A vagrant inebriated man, withered
Drunk and destitute, no home to go
He lies listless, snoring on the park bench
Ragged clothes and a tattered life
Wake UP Wake UP
Shoved by the Police in the dead of night
You must move on old man
Or we shall issue you a court summons
Ah but where shall I go? he boldly demands
This is of no concern of ours old drunk
You must vacate this park now
We have no time for old drunk fools
The old man asks, and who pray tell are you?
I am the police, and your nightmare, if you don’t vacate now
Oh Police? Not officers of the peace? Here to serve and protect?
And who pray tell are you serving and protecting tonight?
Do not talk back old man
Worse things than a summons may befall upon you
Now move on you stinky drunk
As the story goes, the old man moved on, drunk and broken
The next day, no better for the wear
The old man rose, to begin another beggar’s day
Voices inside tormented him
Wounds from long ago
Today, he proclaimed time to collect his just rewards
His teeth ached, his belly hurt
He bought a gun, from the toy store
All he could afford
Off he went to the City Bank
Time for a withdrawal
Hand me all your cash he demanded
The teller whispered
Old man we all know you
You can not think to get away?
Why you barely stumbled your way in here
I doubt you can make it to your getaway bus?
- concern and compassion in her voice
He replied all proud
None the less hand me your cash
My plan is sound, you pretty lass
Fear not I mean no harm to you sweetie
At the door, those very same Police
Yelled drop your weapon
And so he did
As they pushed him violently to the ground
Sitting in the back seat, he smiled
Finally justice will be served
The Officer scolded him
You drunk, you will be locked away now you scum
40 years before, the irony of life was to be painted
The old drunk saved the life of a fellow soldier
Who had a son, whom became a police officer
Irony is the sadness that shall sink many a heavy heart
Now the old man, with 10 years in prison
Finally his country paid his dues
This old war vet, got his 3 square meals
His teeth all fixed and healthcare for an ailing heart
God bless those who truly serve and protect
my world of tidal waves and sinking cities has not surprised me
of falling towers and other such horrors
its like ive accidentally seen them coming
and now I hate this world thinking I'm some sort of god
stuck in the middle of everything
inspiring mirrors of muses and masterpieces
and sometimes i wonder if god mad me bite off more than i could chew
but htat fire within
that crime i had to do
to save my life
i never meant to comit
i would be dead if i didn't
and maybe your daughters too
and now word of mouth
two towns and sa city know about a crazy guy
who went nuts in a big way
from some drug
but no one knows the whole truth
until this hits the streets and comes circling round
and the police will have to admit
i'm either more criminally minded than i care to realise
or it was all an accident
or that house was truly haunted
but i'm a tired soul
a lonely heart
and my pillow is swollen
from tears of nightly torments of the radio
My story goes on
this legacy continues
and i care more for you than i let on
and i hate the world sometimes for the way it has happened to me
more than you will ever know
but i am strong
and i am weak
i find love and hold onto it
until they find a way to remove it from me
or i poison myself another way
but i dont lie
and i dont hide
I'm not a murderer
I'm not arapist
I'm not a sex offender
just someone who lost their mind from drugs
just about got murdered heard some bad news and had to get away
and it haunts me everyday
it has haunted me for years
it has tormented me
and i know i am guilty
but i also saved more than just my life
and i think thats worth more than one room of your house
so i hope you keep that in mind
wehn I publicize
the letters
i have written to hitmen
who i know are out looking for a bounty
to stalk this miracle with a gun
my days are numbered again
and this phoenix needs to be reborn
but how many lives and chances do i have?
the place from the fire within
was the beginning of an wscape and a new chapter of my getaway
and a new grape of wrath
and an endless book of self rejection and emotional scars
that hopefully one day heals
for now work on you
i know nothing will be the same
but at least you have your sanity
and mine is questioned everyday!
ONE SHOULD NOT MAKE PLANS FOR TOMORROW, LIFE IS UNPREDICTABLE, THE UNEXPECTED CAN HAPPEN IN A SPLIT SECOND. “QUOTE BY POET”
I woke up to a brilliant sunny spring day,
The flowers blooming, the birds were chirping,
The tree leaves dancing to a gentle wind blowing,
Rustling their young leaves, our chime tinkling.
The jacaranda trees which looked so dashing
Giving us a glorious show, their flowers tumbling
To the ground beneath, resembling purple carpeting.
Our annual optician’s appointment was today,
So off to mall we go, reluctant to leave our patio.
We were right on time, and the optician saw me first,
All good he said after my consultation, go have fun
And choose your specs.
Whilst choosing my funky frames, a petrifying noise
Surrounded the mall, the six of us froze.
So scary ,surreal, horrendous and mind boggling,
Loud shots, automatic gun fire, people shouting,
Shots fired from where no one knew, people screaming,
We huddled under the counter, shots still ringing,
The brave receptionist ran to shut the glass door and locked it
Then ran back to join us under the counter.
Normality returned all too soon, as an elderly man who
Seemed shell shocked and disorientated, stumbled in as the
Receptionist cautiously re-opened the door. He told us the
Robbers were professionals, and were in and out in 5 minutes,
Well-rehearsed he added, and the almighty thunderous
Bangs we heard, were from hearsay, that the robbers
Shot and broke the glass display cabinets, taking
All and every piece of jewellery with them. A getaway car, revving,
In the open parking on the third floor all ready and waiting.
The jewellery shop was just above us. The ear shattering
Sounds were thus inevitable.
My thoughts however went to those terrified people shopping,
In the corridors of the mall,
Who had no shelter at all.
What happened to that wonderful sunny spring morning that I woke up to, flowers blooming, tree leaves gently swaying in the breeze and majestic jacaranda trees carpeting the ground with their purple flowers.
We are mere mortals who live on a very turbulent and troubled planet, a planet called earth.
Miraculously, no one was injured, to my knowledge.
THIS IS A TRUE STORY - IT HAPPENED TO US ON THE 30TH SEPTEMBER
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
PREFACE :
an old swing that once seated life now lays abandoned, encompassed within the
confinement of wild,unkept backyard the old man is left with. for a person, who has
been through every flavour of life, using this swing is a respite- a getaway from his
aloofness. And, more than that
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
There's a swing in the backyard, that lies unkept, hidden
that breathes through its cracks, yet remains dust laden
it glides through the wild growths, the over-grown weeds,
fireflies..in a cluster follow it along..as the wooden swing leads
it touches the farthest twig of the tree..that extends to the starry sky
leaping over the patches of green..witnessing the silence cry
at night, the swing comes to life, when it occupies a lonesome soul.
miles and high, it takes him along...and then, the memories unfold!
the crimson memories flare up, come to life.
and he's now amidst his childhood, its little games..and little lies
but soon the mortal cloud of his memories break, and it begins to rain
his watering-nostalgic eyes get so over-drenched ..that it seems hard to bear the
pain
another push, and the swing glides yet again.
and now he(the person) is pushed back to the time..when he was slender, young
and sane.
those perfect strong shoulders, and a grit that cuts through steel
soak him up in pride, as so empowered he feels.
and then, again..the swing ceases to glide..
his memories begin to fade away..like on the sand, a relentless ocean tide.
he catches his breath, as he prepares for one last ride
he thrusts his feet onto the grassy patch, and there he goes again...he watches the
swing taking him, rise.
but this time, he laments the losses he has had, the times that could've been better
the midnight moon penetrates through leaves, and on his swing it seems to scatter
comes to a halt, eventually..his swing. his memories have made him hollow
yet, another night...he'll kill his sleep, riding on the swing..shall rather watch the
fireflies follow.
Form:
In the quiet whispers of dreams,
I dance with shadow's ebonescence,
as photonic particle - collider,
photosynthesis derider,
unveiling entities,
of "agents provocateur" to seize a "visitation"
upon the dimensions precipice
per chance to lay siege.
In the depths of "our present darkness",
petra-charred and invisible against the oiled skin
of night.
Chameleon sins-
spiders its neural network
across the fruited plains,
trading insiders
like it was the New York Stock Exchange.
Black domes in the rock of jig altar,
to sire getaway mountain dens and tunnels
for BlackRock Pfizer Op -Executions.
Their golden boy, will spotlight meteoric,
the proverbial fly in the ointment,
Act III lift of a-weighted curtain-lifting back wings,
showing a defyning eye and marionette strings.
Les Miserables-play on words-play on heartstring phantoming our opera, staged in
Anti-Christian cryptonite.
History channeled redirect
rhetoric dialect of reflected subject to chain,
and the death of fiat currency,
just a coincidental theme?
Freedom is a currency isn't it,
a Hallmark card from the Corporation
to the People- to read,
between the lines of allegiance-
swearing till blue in the face,
alliance against malfee-seance in press release
of 3 letter agency.
As Apollyon waltzes in from the bottomless pit.
Social credit scored to fit the bill.
Cloaked in fine Kingly robes of industry.
fact checked by the Ministry of Information.
When will love speak it's instinctual dialect
in a neon sign language not lost in translation?
When will hope weave it's august majesty,
Seraphic-wings spread over as a covering tapestry.
In cure of a cerulean sky with
hope diamonds of open transparency,
lifting us in perpetuity.
Till that day,
with each intrepid step, a nightmare before Lent
their Black Christmas unfolds
a returning echo on the steppes,
etched in our collective brains like petrified mold.
In an apology of words,
emotions coagulate churns sour worm meal,
acidic curdling of my stomach, a larvaeic curd-
cysted curse to the soylent green new deal
of New World sufferings
and pain, of UnitedNationsBurntOfferings,
with a disdain for comic relief
or cosmic entymology.
Geena Davis in Cutthroat Island
Generously endowed with ***** and spirit, GEENA
Engaged a most unusual leading lady role. And DAVIS
Ever so skillfully brought the audience right IN
Not one scene was lacking and it was definitely CUTTHROAT
At death, she shaved her father's head for the treasure map to Cutthroat ISLAND.
Delightful costumes enhanced her role as a pirate, never better PLAYED.
And it appears that no expense was spared to make this fantastic movie. For THE
Violence, explosions, fistfights, and duels are blasting packed, UNPRECEDENTED.
If ever there were awards for the most fun movie to make, this one would be LEADING.
So often, her laughter reminded me of a child pretending, playing the pirate ROLE.
If I were a movie critic judging on entertainment in action, I would give Geena an A.
Naturally, I, who love fantasy, like her in this role; she was: pretty, happy, and FEISTY.
Clearly, she looked like a lady, but a lady would never fight a man with her FIST
Until she was seen on a wanted poster in Jamaica, there had been no SLUGGING...
Then, the pirate, Morgan Adams, and her newly purchased slave, Shaw, needed a GUN.
The Governor's militia started surrounding them; soon bodies were SLINGING,
Her getaway met stealing the Governor's carriage and fist fighting without a SWORD,
Relentlessly pursued, fired upon by cannons with the carriage teetering, SWINGING,
Over ruts, out of town, wide eyed, escaping, and laughing, the epitome of RUTHLESS,
Real passions for a good fight, challenges, and she made pirating seem fun! AND
Throughout the action, suspense captivated; scenery and costumes were BEAUTIFUL.
In the end, she killed her murderous Uncle Dawg in self-defense using a CANNON
She saved Shaw; remained behind briefly with the treasure. No guns were FIRING.
Luckily, they dove off of Dawg’s ship before it exploded, watched by every PIRATE.
After the explosion debris had settled, up from the ocean emerged both he and SHE
Next, a marker barrel popped up. The treasure was brought on board; oh, the WOWS
Divvying was postponed; pirating would continue with Capt. “Morgan” . . .gutsy to ME!
© Name withheld for contest
February 17, 2010
Poetic form: Acrostic and End Line Word
His past finally caught up with him...
The killer waited silently in the man's room.
His gun cocked as footsteps approached.
The key jiggled in the lock of the door.
The man stepped inside, unaware of his fate.
Three shots rang out, dropping him to the floor.
The shooter ran from the room towards the exit.
A car awaited on the corner of the street.
It slowly pulled up as he came out.
Nobody saw them as they drove away.
Back inside, the man lay in a pool of blood.
His life flashed before him in the final seconds.
Where did it all go wrong?
Six years ago...
The job was supposed to be simple.
Three men on the inside, two on lookout.
He was the sixth man, the getaway driver.
The jewelry store had been cased weeks before.
Every detail was planned in advance.
The target was the cache of diamonds in the safe.
The four Hasidic merchants were elderly and frail.
It seemed like easy pickings for the gang.
The driver waited nervously as they went in.
Moments later, several shots were fired.
There was the sound of shattering glass.
In what seemed like an eternity, one man exited.
He was covered in blood and staggering towards the street.
The two lookouts ran over to assist him.
One of them waved frantically to the man in the car.
The sound of the alarm sent the driver into a panic.
He saw police cars rapidly approaching in the distance,
then did a U-Turn and fled the scene.
He could see one of his partners in the rear view mirror.
He was standing in the middle of the street, gun raised.
Two shots were fired in his direction.
The lookout spun around to confront the cops.
The last thing the driver saw was his body being riddled.
The two survivors of the robbery had their day in court.
The judge sentenced them to fifteen years hard labor.
The driver headed out of state and went north.
After searching for days, he found a quiet town to live in.
He acquired a job as a janitor at the high school.
He spent most of the time in his small apartment.
Anonymity seemed to be his best protection.
Little did he know, his partners were paroled early.
Serving only five years due to good behavior.
They only had one thing on their minds...Revenge!
A year later, they got it.
Why, so much progress has been made from the days of my grandfather
Now, it already does look like we do live in the future
But what would it look like in fifty years, pray, do you wonder
Would Christmas be still a joy, a family getaway
Would the birth of Christ still be celebrated
Would faith still be there
Pray, would life be still so fair
Even if now, already, for some, life does be so unfair
See, I believe in some fifty years, the way people celebrate Christmas would change
Why, the whole setting of the Earth itself would change
Seas would cover the lands
Maybe life would be no more as dense as it is
Maybe by then aliens would have conquered Earth
Or maybe, humans would have colonized some other planet
Whichever, in some fifty years, only a blessed few would get to celebrate Christmas
Forgotten would be this grand event
Forgotten for, the world would have other cares
More important ones, like catering to humanity's survival
Yes indeed, how to stay alive if seas do be everywhere
How to celebrate freedom when aliens would have made of humans, slaves
How to celebrate Christmas when some of your family live on another planet
How to celebrate Christmas when food is scarce
When living has become so dangerous
When hoping would all of life, hoping of being by some way or another, saved
Why, I see Christmas as being someday a mere memory
As do be the Legends of ancient Egypt
Maybe, in some fifty years from now, a Christmas tree would be a mere drawing
Maybe Santa Claus would be unknown
Maybe in some fifty years from now,
Parents would have no money to buy their children gifts
Maybe, they would sit, thank the skies for allowing them to be together
And remember of the days when Christmas was a grand celebration
Maybe they would have to be fast
For the alien masters would be needing them
Maybe they would even have to celebrate in hiding
For the aliens would have other celebrations, other beliefs
Why, the future does be uncertain
Nothing does promise humanity a positive gain
Life can turn dark, as it can get better
Whichever, for now, let us be thankful for what life does bestow on us!
29 Nov 2015
Contest : A Futuristic Christmas
I have a slavery folktale of my own
I am Mae Rock, and I was once a slave
Always taught being black you must behave
How did I get the name Mae Rock?
I was named for Unbreakable, Unstoppable and Strong as a Solid Rock
The Plantation owner named me that for that very reason
I would often rebel after being beaten and refused the plantation ways
I knew I had to getaway
During those slavery years, you would find me reading the word and praying morning, Noon and night
One slavery night, I tried to escape
I crossed the river that was in South Carolina on state line heading for North Carolina
Ever so close leading to the North
When morning came, the plantation owner discovered I was gone
They had their dogs to track my scent and foot prints, but because I went through the river, they loss total track of me
I was determined to never go back to the plantation nor slavery live again
Sometimes I would tire, but knew I had to push on with all inner strength I could muster
The Lord guided me throughout my journey
I met fellow slaves along the way
In my Southern Draw is all I knew
I encouraged the other slaves to make their way North and escape to Freedom
Mae Rock’s words were, “You have to live and breathe as any person walking this Godly Earth. The Heavenly skies spells “Freedom”. The ways of the oppressed plantation owners could no longer being tolerated”
Suddenly a crack of Thunder, Flash of Lightning came along with the pouring rain and a rush of the mighty winds
It was decreed at that very moment that all slaves had to be free
It was as if that was God’s decree, and he had spoken
Freedom came loud and strong
All the slaves knew where they belonged
Head North for a better life
Mighty and true
Success in pursue
Mae Rock’s Legacy for generations to come, “Live out your dreams with spirit and destiny. Be true to yourself and to others. Don’t ever be silent, but always vocal. Time will come in your favor, but you must believe”
A Slavery Folk song says “Dance before the Lord as he is the melody through circumstance, and breaks all barriers. Enrich your mind and voice on one accord. It’s assurance that comes from the Lord”