Long Happy endings Poems
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(a series of micro vignettes)
Chella and I are reading our analysis assignments together because that’s how we link and build.
We read out loud too, because how else can you judge the flow?
When my phone, lying on the table, jiggled. The caller ID read, “Tommy’s girlfriend.”
Chella gave me a little look. “I never change anyone’s ID,” I confessed. “Neither do I.” Cellia agreed.
“She broke up with him years ago..”
I feel sorry for panhandlers, I don’t see them often but I saw one yesterday. Who carries cash any more (Noone)?
Along the same line, Chella and I are wired, it-girls - we’re noise cancelled. Were you talkin’ to us?
We’re hard to engage, not because we’ve got attitude - we just can’t hear you. It’s irritating when I have to tap-out of some stream to hear people.
Even if it’s the waiter from the bistro downstairs delivering their exemplary frozen-strawberry-smoothies and burgers.
Later, after the pool, we showered. As I was toweling my hair, I studied myself in the mirror.
“My skin is SO screwed up,” I moaned, “I need a ‘rescue spa’ facial.. Let’s go to New York (city)—I’m taking you there.”
“There’s a ‘Forever Young Spa’ on Beacon street.. about a mile from here,” Cellia offered.
“Ever been there?” I asked.
“No, but the ad says they have an AI-powered massage robot. I’m curious.”
“Ooo! Call ‘em up, see if it does happy-endings.” I laughed.
“We could get a home unit.” Cellia updogged.
“I think we’d need the industrial version,” I added, “that’s the sell.”
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Songs for this:
Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne
Goodbye by The Sundays
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Our cast:
Chella, A tall, lithe black girl, from Liberty City (Miami) Florida. She's a Harvard Master's candidate with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs’ from Yale. She had it rough growing up - she was buying skin-care at Trader Joes! I'm showing her some things.
Your author, a simple trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia and a Harvard Master's candidate with a Bachelor of Science in Molecular Biophysics and Biochemistry from Yale.
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Burgers = bacon cheeseburger w/tomato, sautéed onions, ketchup and fries - hold the mayo and mustard.
Confronting a cacophony of lies,
thoughts of love are silently laid to rest.
And buried in a tomb of quietus,
wrapped in a shroud of tears, at Hope's request.
Within a mute rhapsody of silence,
a mournful sigh escapes my lonely heart.
And an eternity of teardrops fall;
tethered to dreams drifting slowly apart.
At the bottom of a self-pity pit,
faint traces of trust slowly fade away.
But love is a never-ending story,
and happy endings play out every day.
I'll never stop searching for my soulmate;
knowing my soulmate is searching for me.
For I believe, soulmates are eternal,
and time will always find both lock and key.
Face to face here
With happy cheer
Wear a rich smile
That sets grand style
Let joy draw near
To forge fine cheer
Wise ways work well
To confront tell
Dance in good fit
That sensuous wit
Set your own pace
To time you space
Dare to live bold
But never cold
Gain truthful poise
Via grounded choice
Words have a way
To paint your day
Start to live fine
Verse poise that lines
The way you feel
Can hurt or heal
Do live your fest
In this life quest
Love loud and clear
As joy boosts cheer
Happy heeds call
In sweet or gall
Take time to be
A man set free
Leon Enriquez
31 August 2018
Singapore
Birthday thoughts
Flush of feelings;
One year older
~~~~~~~~~
Happy memories
Mental corridors;
Echoes sum
~~~~~~~~~
You and me
Me and you;
Lovely my dear
~~~~~~~~~
So many miles
Worn-out moccasins;
Fruitful journeys
~~~~~~~~~
Hand-in-hand
Trip to nowhere;
Arrivals and departures
~~~~~~~~~
Poignant feelings
A royal flush;
Happy endings
~~~~~~~~~
Ecstasy unfurls
Tender moments;
Affairs of heart
~~~~~~~~~
Birthday haiku
Arithmetic progression;
Beyond sums
~~~~~~~~~
Lovely feelings
Simply subtle;
Hearts in-sync
~~~~~~~~~
Joy feels profound
Perfume on skin;
Lasting fragrance
~~~~~~~~~
Greetings my dear
Same to you;
Same birthday for two
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
08 July 2015
Singapore
Welcome to Far Town
On what forsaken endless shore,
Is grief a friend where Devil’s crawl?
Does all we have seen have no worth at all?
What end of time disaster is fate asking for?
Did you not know the signs all align
And all is lost to banshee’s cries?
When all hope is gone, you hold tight the cross,
You wore around your neck, which now you hold aloft.
Trying to ward off any evil spirits.
Do you think Jesus would really want to see it?
All your enchantments are meaningless.
Your self-defence lacks being blessed.
A whispered prayer, no faithful dead.
When Death approaches you begin the test.
The end is here, there is no sanctuary.
Deeds written on parchment, treated as sanctity.
Agony shall surely rip a mind apart.
No safe-way found in a billion stars.
No guiding light coming from near or far,
Can save a soul so below par.
Your purity was bargained for;
Tempted away in days of being poor.
Faithless messages lost to your,
Choices made in days of yore.
When all was taken and ambition was gone,
You signed your name, your kingdom come.
Your kingdom gone, life ebbs and flows.
Did you choose to stay the course, or did you take the gold?
Take a hold of your consequences.
Life is not about happy endings.
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
When she was young…just a little girl
when life was more innocent and free
she believed in castles in the sky
in fairy tales…and fantasy.
She believed from the sparks of a campfire fireflies were born
She believed in happy endings
in mermaids and unicorns…
She believed in houses made from gingerbread
that every sentence ended in rhyme
She believed rubbing a lamp could summon a genie
She believed long hair she could climb.
When she was young she believed in Santa Claus.
She believed her grandparents lived in a world of black and white.
She believed in the magic of a kiss.
She believed her blanket would protect her at night.
When she was young she’d play outside for hours.
She’d come home with scraped up knees.
She believed she could see the entire world when she climbed to the top of a tree.
And when she grew up she still believed…
In happy endings..in fantasy…and play
but the duties and responsibilities of life often got in the way…
Which is why now that she is older
she loves to find moments when her fantasies are reborn…
moments when she revisits her fairy tales…
and finds her unicorn.
Flirt
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
She says
" Flirt
You getting old
Your style is mould.
Your hearty charm
Is now stale as cake.
Take your seven
Empty promises
To the squirels.
Eight you could
Not keep.
Nine was your last chance.
Now you looking
Down and shy
When you were
Told tie your
Shoe laces chickenman ! "
He says
" Flirt
You were just
A pretty skirt
Nothing is forever
Could not make
It better
Your turn on
Is now under
Control.
I just circling
In doubt.
If you know
What i am
Then let me go
With my ego.
The show is over now ! "
Secrets ...
They never have
Happy endings.
It seems to be something of a trend
to dump on happy endings these days,
and anything that shows moral sense
brings calls to be cancelled right away.
The only thing the elites accept
is the dysfunctional and depraved,
anything else must be childish,
from 'simple minds' mired in cliché.
I’ve been alive long enough to see
that yes, the world can be truly cruel,
But I have seen that just as often
it can be a hundred shades of cool.
And to demonize the wholesomeness
that some entertainment will provide,
to scoff at all the family values
that brought the millions fulfilled lives,
how does that make a person feel smart?
How do they not realize, in their brains,
that life has as much light as darkness,
that there’s more than just wallowing pain?
I admit there is real value in
examining things that make us hurt,
but isn’t there as much value in
looking into what makes this world work?
I think it comes down to two reasons,
and the first I say half-way in jest,
to me it seems our society
is a victim of its own success.
To put it simply, some folks are bored,
with the type of life that we all have.
Where once we struggled just to survive,
now we feel fat and lazy and bad.
The morals we used to celebrate
worked so well they became commonplace,
we forgot how they built our nation,
assumed they were the natural state.
And given the questing human mind,
we went out looking for something new,
but when things are good you only find change
flirting with less moral points-of-view.
You start to fetishize the bad-boy,
romanticize all the criminals,
of course, you're safe while your doing this,
so you don’t comprehend it in full.
And then it creeps into the culture,
hidden by buzz-words like ‘tolerance,’
but like any drug, the hit wears off,
and you need more and more decadence.
Until you’ve been immersed so damn long
that you think it is all that is real,
that there’s nothing but the decadent,
and you are so desperate just to feel.
Some people are destroyed by all this,
others burn out and make a retreat,
realize the wholesome is not that bad,
and away from the cities they beat...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I am at the end of the road with you
my lonesome dear,
get to the nuts and bolts
stop playing with yourself in the rain
the seeds you plant,
the red herrings you emit,
all chaff
your misery
all hatches in your head
your future
again, all hatches in your head
somebody needs to give birth
to a better outlook
as much as you read me
I read you as a book, too
you do see?
we're just like
two little graying doves
sitting in separate trees
that's fine
but you need to stop looking at me
stop talking about me
writing fairy tale happy endings
and then bemoaning your fate
honey, you had your oyster, pearl
you had your prime rib
right at your fingertips
within your grasp
you turned a blind's eye
a funny eye
you couldn't stand prosperity
instead you wanted to be miserable
that's fine
but not with me
so for all I care, honey,
go play with yourself in the rain
wish for nuts and bolts
whatever,
I'm exhausted with you
I am at the end of the road with you
... for good
... this time
connie pachecho
1/6/17
non contest entry
Red Door Church
I lost faith in my religion and wander.
Who can forgive my sins? Who can cast my
demons from me? Who can bless me at death?
Can I never be buried in sacred ground?
Now my faith is in pills and booze and soft
places with perfume and happy endings.
My church is a bar with a pastor named Tia.
She speaks in tongues with a snake that bites.
Her venom is the sweetest thing I've tasted.
She brings me to my knees and I bow to her.
I drink her blood and eat her in communion.
I wake calm with my savior. I found my faith.