Long Hulking Poems
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Gather round all you little kiddies
Got a story I'd like to share
Bout a tiny mouse named Bartholomew
And a dirty big bear called Clare!
Now Clare wasn't the least bit happy
His name sounded a wee bit girly
Had a wee mousey friend Bartholomew
Who's name sounded strong and burly!
So hulking big Clare the unhappy bear
Asked his mousy friend Bartholomew
If he'd be so kind and wouldn't mind
Switching names, that'd be so cool!
Bartholomew said he wanted some time
To check with dear Cynthia his friend
About this idea of switching names
On her opinion he would depend!
Cynthia said, “If you want my opinion
Your name doesn't sound like a bear
But if Clare wants the name Bartholomew
We're still friends but now you'll be Clare!”
A name doesn't change the person you are
You'll be the same friend in the end
So forever after Mr. Bartholomew Bear
And wee mousey Clare stayed friends!
A moral?
The shadows on the moonlit road
Belonged to ancient trees,
But then I saw a hulking form
That made my marrow freeze.
He stood well over six feet tall,
His face was long and lean,
‘Though dressed in velvet like a lord,
His voice was cold and mean.
He aimed his pistols at my breast,
With, ‘Stand and drop your knife.
Deliver all your goods, my friend,
Your money or your life.’
I knew I couldn’t hope to win,
And threw the man my purse;
But then he leapt upon his horse
And rode off with a curse.
The sounds of riders galloped by,
But none were there, I swear;
I heard a single shot ring out,
Thus adding to my scare.
The highwayman would never rest;
But all was still again;
I prayed, and, chilled by thoughts of ghosts,
Continued down the lane.
For Joyce's contest
The missing letters are feared lost better calls shrieked into the mossy night where hovering the moon delights, in wolfish cries and another bursts the devil called and answered Ms. Hearst so while the nighttime day's mirror... cries are heard! They said that amber was a rock no more, for if serendipitously defined then hulking over the river is the divestment of the vines, but modern day America hasn't won the currency war, the Euro has it's place ensured, and though we wile through rows of corn our hearts aflutter as others mourn, be crisp beneath that blotted out apple tree, the asylum loves apple juice for free.
MARVEL 1960s
As I journey into mystery
I come across the tower of shadows
Into the chamber of darkness
I'm found tales to astonish
Hulking and giant men
Sub marina
Involved in tales of supense
Iron men and american Captains
Oh! but strange tales
Doctors and one eye patch wearing --
government men
Women named Millie and Chili
and both of them are modeling
Alien beings silver surfering in the skies
UFO's and nova alien beings from all over
Barbarian conan astonishing tales
Kazar Doctors of doom, ghost riders
Adventures amazing inhumans
Black widow, cloak and dagger
Rawhide kid Sgtof fury howling commandos
Leatherneck raiders and Captain Savage
dun know if ya old enough
or even if you know what I'm talkin bout
Mention titles above of marvel 1960's hero books
who say's this poem has to rryme of even be good
I said mention above titles of old marvel comic texts
And yea I'll even mention "NOT BRAnD ECHH"
MARVEL 1960s
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
12/23/17
You have gone berserk the ghost said to me.
I will acquire an ambiance that shows I am free.
The level of thinking brought me a hulking gargoyle.
He said, “please relax” and slide down this tinfoil.
I saw a curve as I flew off the slide onto a leather couch.
The manager of the furniture store heard me yell “ouch!”
The selection of lamps was intriguing, but how to classify?
Those glorious multi-colored light fixtures began to magnify.
The ghosts are running rampant in the attic a guy said.
Manager told us he would continue speaking to these crafty undead.
Dracula’s tummy grew bolder, it began to turn into a giant belly.
Worse, it also transmogrified into a vile something really smelly.
Let’s celebrate the store’s fifteenth year, the owner announced.
After we replace those light bulbs, the hostess said as she flounced.
They were marked with tiny graves, weirdly turned toward the garden.
I think they have been stupefied, I said. Please beg my pardon.
The jack-o-lanterns in the display window were now easily defeated.
By the delicate ghouls who were nastier when standing than when seated.
A Halloween minister came to marry whoever wanted to be hitched.
We made short work of this little guy, he became immediately bewitched.
Gather round all you little kiddies
Got a story I'd like to share
Bout a tiny mouse named Bartholomew
And a dirty big bear called Clare!
Now Clare wasn't the least bit happy
His name sounded a wee bit girly
Had a wee mousey friend Bartholomew
Who's name sounded strong and burly!
So hulking big Clare the unhappy bear
Asked his mousy friend Bartholomew
If he'd be so kind and wouldn't mind
Switching names, that'd be so cool!
Bartholomew said he wanted some time
To check with dear Cynthia his friend
About this idea of switching names
On her opinion he would depend!
Cynthia said, “If you want my opinion
Your name doesn't sound like a bear
But if Clare wants the name Bartholomew
We're still friends but now you'll be Clare!”
A name doesn't change the person you are
You'll be the same friend in the end
So forever after Mr. Bartholomew Bear
And wee mousey Clare stayed friends!
A moral?
The moon reflected on the sea,
A night more beautiful than day.
I wheezed and struggled up the steps
And looked out over Whitby Bay.
I saw the harbour far below,
And heard the splashing of the waves,
I turned around to see the church,
The ruined abbey and the graves.
I thought of Dracula, the Count,
Imagined him and Lucy there,
And then I saw a hulking shape -
But, oh, the menace in that glare.
He showed his fangs and hissed at me;
My feet were rooted to the spot.
I cried for help and waved my arms
At people on a distant yacht.
He lunged and bit into my neck;
I tried to fight but felt so weak.
And that is how I came to die -
And you’re the prey I need to seek…
for Darren's Bram Stoker contest
Last night a great heaviness
fell through the roof
dropping like a boat anchor into my dreaming mind.
It was sentient,
a being as hard as steel and massively stupid.
I felt its dumb confusion, its awkward alarm,
I winced as it lumbered around my head-space
crashing into my own startled thoughts
though I realized on some level of awareness
that I was still living in a bad dream.
The brutishly bulky being wanted answers,
I wanted answers, the dream had no answers.
Eventually that solid hulking creature gave up
turning my inner-state over and smashing
my neuronal workings over its big stony head.
Oblivion took us both.
When daylight unveiled the long night
I looked about me
the bedroom was not ransacked
but my brain was blinking on ‘check engine’ light,
and something was still asleep
on the backseat of my mind.
Tonight I will take a strong drink and 2 Ambien
incase its guttural snoring, or its chaotic dreams
wakes me up again.
Far as the (ease)
severely myopic eyes can see,
nothing but polluted atmosphere
where skull and crossbones
memento mori betokens beware,
especially with increasing chronology
mortality becomes crystal clear
existential crisis yours truly didst despair
not so much death itself, but failure
(inadequacy) at livingsocial
mine life to the hilt
plain as day everywhere
casual attitude apropos
(pertinent personal paradigm
regarding aspiring poet)
equals laissez faire,
hence the following
his apt nom de guerre
emotionally castrated docile heir.
Minimal milestones attained he
blithely professes, grants, attests,
et cetera as general rule
barely squeaked by
(think graduating high school)
weatherbeaten and rust covered cerebral tool
smartly linkedin cogs and wheels
buzzfeeding delicate threads didst unspool
above mentioned metaphor near
perfectly, quintessentially, and realistically virtual
extempore description hoopfully edifies
thee dear reader figuratively yours truly
got swallowed into vortex whirlpool.
Maelstrom pitched me to and fro
hither and yon into damndest chaos
drowned me under dead end zone
fiercest storm ever
raging across Lake Woebegone
stronger than bajillion healthy
male primates oozing testosterone
empowered with indomitable strength
downing ordinarily toxic
(even infinitesimal quantity) quinone
think beefy hulking Hercules types
built powerlifters second to none
pulsating pecks, quaking quads,
and ripped reputations
far and wide known
with versatility now
smattering of lines
constituting this poem I hone.
Invisible omnipresent nemesis,
(perhaps the Schwenksville Strangler)
appears intent on asphyxiating,
and simultaneously forcing yours truly
to experience unbearable
oppression, humiliation, and agitation,
whereby joie de vivre extinguished
provoking sadness linkedin
with remembrance of things past
agonizing, kickstarting torturing
absolute zero ability to relish the present
essentially forced to recollect
nasty, short and brutish mailer daemons
characterizing diabolical ghosts
representing nauseating, and haunting
hurtful dirty deeds done dirt cheap
courtesy my selfishness
verboten fruit tasted within recent past
now the bitter aftertaste
analogous to Scrooge
suddenly horrified about his stingy self.
Gather round all you little kiddies
Got a story I'd like to share
Bout a tiny mouse named Bartholomew
And a hulking big bear called Clare!
Now Clare wasn't the least bit happy
That his name sounded quite a bit girly
Had a wee mousey friend Bartholomew
Who's name sounded strong and burly!
So hulking big Clare the unhappy bear
Asked his mousy friend Bartholomew
If he'd be so kind and wouldn't mind
Switching names, that'd be so cool!
Bartholomew said he wanted some time
To check with dear Cynthia his friend
About this idea of switching names
On her opinion he would depend!
Cynthia said, “If you want my opinion
Your name doesn't sound like a bear
But if Clare wants the name Bartholomew
We're still friends but now you'll be Clare!”
A name doesn't change the person you are
You'll be the same friend in the end
So forever after Mr. Bartholomew Bear
And wee mousey Clare stayed friends!
© Jack Ellison 2013