Long In the cart Poems
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Seeks beauty, a prince now age to marry
She in a fruit tree wants bread or fare thee
It happened again
another maiden
Although he had no bread for m’lady
Gypsy with cart, plan wins the maiden back
Witch hidden, with a hairpin she’ll attack
“a golden coin for that bread”
Mishaps all gone, and instead
Prince and maiden married and hit the sack
At times the prince sings happy at times not
King and gardener noticed, worry they ought
The gypsy’s daughter, the witch
hidden in the cart, would switch
The beautiful maiden she was they thought
The prince stumped, “Señora, how dark you've become!"
"The sun has burnt my skin," the witch answered numb
She'd stuck a pin in the hair
of the real maiden’s so fair,
turned into a dove, to the witch she’d succumb
A dove out of the azure sky, flew by
Asked the gardener if the prince was alright
The gardener then told the prince
An amigo ever since
The dove told the prince what happened that night
The prince fell for the little dove trade-in
Yet to discover the secret hairpin
Stroking her, she never fled
When felt the pin in her head
Jerked it out, the dove changed back, a maiden
The prince told the king of maiden's ill fate
The king heard both singing, became irate
The gypsy witch is a fake
and she’ll be burned at the stake!
So the prince married his maiden upgrade
~ and lived happily ever after amigos!
For CINCO DE MAYO
5/5/26
It is very impressive to go westward
in an early morning of midwinter,
because you will see a full moon
that you have forgotten for a while
in the middle of the western sky.
[The westward moon is, perhaps,
the one that Li T’ai-Po
who was bewitched by
and delighted by a moon so much
chanted poems in praise of the moon
throughout his life,
after breaking a thick frozen ice on the lake,
scooped an August full moon
that is not sunken but still floating
on the surface of water,
and pasted it to the wintry sky.]
Although the air in my car is still cold as ice,
and roadside snow is being melted from salt spray
and messy, covered with splashes of dirty water,
the moon, like a virgin still chaste,
[By manmade machine and men,
the moon, though, lost her virginity long ago,]
looks immaculate and gorgeous as ever.
For the moon
riding high in the western sky
enjoying the honor and admiration that is entitled
only to virgin girls
though she lost it long ago,
the north wind,
because of her envy toward the moon,
was wandering in the frozen waste
pleasure driving a sheer-white chariot
brings a violent snowstorm,
and heartlessly shakes the moon
that barely hangs on the midwinter’s western sky
to fall.
After so much abuse,
kicks, stamps, smacks, and blows of violent wind
that of more than she can bear
the frightened moon flees to south, then to east
with her paled and waning face,
and finally disappears somewhere
where no one will able to find her.
Total darkness covers the earth,
overwhelms to deny everything.
At the edge of this darkness
a somewhat eerie looking hunchbacked creature
[Although he was much intelligent,
yet tenderhearted, a man more sensitive
than the worldly-minded ordinary persons,]
comes and searches for the disappeared moon,
and when he finds
a segment of a shattered piece of moon on the earth,
he embraces it in his bosom with tears of joy,
and falls to the ground with his last breath.
And as a hunchback perishes
a young man with more holes
than the shattered pieces of fallen moon in his rungs,
who always whispered sadly to the waning moon
while leaning against a southward window frame,
comes and carries the hunchback’s remains hurriedly
in the cart to an eastern gateway, with gasping,
to the place where the full moon dwells, with panting.
The rotten apple in the cart,
And lowest of the low,
A waste of space, a waste of time,
And not a joy to know,
A heartless witch, a nasty troll,
A trouble-making shrew,
The creature from the Black Lagoon,
And pile of doggy do,
A hateful, wicked bag of slime,
A monster hated for all time.
The mould was broken at her birth,
This angel, dear and sweet,
This blossom, delicate and fair,
Refined from head to feet,
This paragon of virtue glows,
A pearl before the swine,
A perfect rose amongst the thorns,
Champagne compared with wine,
A treasure trove, a swan, a dove,
And saintly lady filled with love.
For Vie’s Let me have it, then kiss my petunia contest
I wanted to bake a cake
but found I had no flour
off to the miller I went
alas he said I have none
the farmer didn't bring
any wheat for me to mill
he asked me to go and see
why he had not been along
I went to see the farmer
but he was laid up in bed
he'd slipped of the ladder
now his back he'd strained
he asked if I could take
his wheat to the mill
so I loaded it in the cart
set off back to the mill
on the way a wheel fell off
so to the blacksmith I went
he said he'd soon be along
when he had shod the horse
soon he came and fixed the cart
once more off I set on my way
the sun shining, we bumped along
until at last at the mill we arrived
the miller was so grateful
all my flour I got for free
I set off for home ready to bake
that cake I had been dreaming of
I lit the oven so it would be hot
the ingredients I started to mix
I added all the dry stuff, alas
I had no eggs just an empty box
to hen coop I went to get some
found six beauties under the hen
she pecked me as I took them
giving a right squawk of disgust
back to the bowl where I added two
whipping the butter into the mixture
added some milk, then poured it out
filling the cake tin three quarters full
Into the oven I put my tin
leaving it to bake slowly
my tummy rumbling as it cooked
at last it was ready, I left it
on the windowsill to cool a bit
while I laid the table for tea
I went to get it to slice it up
alas that wretched hen got there first
written 05/19/2013
contest Humour
At the fruit stand, in a box,
Were melons that, to me,
Were unfamiliar, not the
Ones I’m likelier to see.
No cantaloupes? No honeydews?
The fruit guy shook his head,
But pointed to the box which held
The green-skinned ones instead.
They weren’t watermelons, so
I asked what they were named.
The fruit man and his partner spoke
(Not English) and exclaimed:
“They’re called the sweetest melons.
You should try them – 2 for 5.”
I bought one (for 3 bucks) in hopes
That fruit men don’t connive.
I found it very strange, though,
That the produce in the cart
Goes by names the fruit men cannot
To their customers impart.
A unique Christmas time for Santa Claus,
fiftieth year of journey without pause.
All gifts he stacks in the cart,
gets ready to soon depart,
he feels for a mishap there is no cause.
On snow-covered track Rudolph runs inspired,
chilled wind on the face, Santa feels he’s tired.
He spots bench in sunny park,
rests there after night’s hard work.
Soon slips into deep sleep though undesired.
Mistaking Santa’s snoring as some blast,
Rudolph thinks danger has arrived at last.
Lets Santa snooze, darts away
with gifts rattling in the sleigh.
Santa wakes up, along the trail runs fast.
She wears a quiet confidence everyday, like a scarf
stained with sweat because she never takes it off.
That’s what she was wearing the first time she ever asked me
for yogurt recommendations.
She saw me standing with my hand on my forehead,
eyes furrowed before the sprawling cooler.
She mistook my indecisiveness as thoughtful
contemplation. When I spoke to her all the words
kept tripping over one another on my tongue,
embarrassing as trying to use cling wrap without scissors,
embarrassing as walking anywhere with a suitcase,
embarrassing as waiting to cross the street or losing
your balance on the train.
So she took her sweat stained confidence
and draped it around my shoulders,
delicate as childhood, and I said,
“go for the coffee flavor, it’ll surprise you,”
“I love surprises!” she said as she
set it and my heart down gently in the cart.
That was an extraordinary Christmas for Santa Claus,
his twentyfifth year of wintry journey without any pause.
He decided to make it a special celebration of gifting on his part
to the children adorably unique presents, he’d carry in the cart.
In colorful foils he packed with care the gifts through the night,
loaded them on the sleigh until the dawn’s first sunlight.
As on downy snow-laid track the reindeer led by Rudolf charged,
the chilling wind hit his face, made him aware he was so tired.
He spotted a bench under a tree while crossing the sunny park,
thought he deserved some rest after the night’s hard work.
He knew he would find ahead no other better place to choose,
so, he slumped on the bench, and soon slipped into snooze.
Rudolph heard loud sound, didn't know it was Nick's snoring bout,
got scared of the danger looming large, she had no doubt.
With loaded sleigh the reindeer ran away as fast they could,
leaving tired Santa to enjoy the frozen sleep in the wood.
At sharp sound of cracking trees under the burden of snow,
when he woke up fazed, reality to his senses came a bit slow.
On the trail engraved in snow he ran, caught the fleeing reindeer.
He was sure when he gave the gifts, him the children would endear.
December 17, 2018
Contest : Christmas Cheer
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
I know you have heard many love stories, some that melt your heart
Can’t tell you about mine but you gotta know that love is still stronger
I never had to remember all it all started, cause I threw it in the cart
But there is one I held back, so I could never go to that place that will make me die faster
There’s nothing in making friends, there’s nothing in making love, can you make it last?
Promises are meant to be kept, rules are meant to be broken, not my screwed heart
All I’ve ever wanted is to hold that which is so real, you and everlasting enchantment
Do you ever imagine how it feels to be in love secretly with the one you cherished?
Waking up each night with feelings so deep, wishing I met you earlier on
Having many things in common but at the same time knowing that nothing can happen on the ferry
Loving against all odds so silently that it kills, so slowly like a poison
Still wishing you could see through the heart to know what I have held for you so dearly
Love can be so complicated; what if her heart beats is for another and not you?
You know a lot about me, my fears, my voice, my aura, these things you know
I don’t know a thing about you, but if you ask me, I’d say ‘’I know I love you’’
What if our heart beats are in the same resonance frequency but we don’t just know?
There is this little thing I’ve had for you and which I will still keep only for you
It has grown to what I can’t hide inside for that long time you think
But I still believe that the surest Angel will always know how to fly
Today I choose to fly with you even though I don’t know where it will take me, guess beside you
“Death to Caesar!!!”
“What!! What did you say???”
I said: “Breath to Caesar!!”
“Long and healthy and contented breath.”
“So which of his Legions are you a part of?”
“OH! God, if there is one, they call us the freezing legion.
“See these fingers, well where they used to be, well
they got lopped off. It was so cold out they didn’t even
bleed. Saved my indentured frigging life.”
“Those that died froze so quickly we didn’t even
need litters to carry them off the field of battle.”
“Just picked them up stiff as you please and threw
them in the cart.”
“So What made you join up?” “Trouble with the law?
or In-law?” “Too many tarts?” “Eh, C’mon.”
“Damn, same old story. Dad’s a senator, always bragging
about his son, you know.”
“Agricolas this, Agricolas that.” “Dammit, stop snickering.
He thought it would be an advantage to have an outlandish
moniker.” “So he hung this one on me.” “So one day I just
got fed up, said screw this, and went off to become a legionnaire.”
“Guess I showed him what he could do with his stupid name.
Now I kill farmers, well not just farmers, just about anybody
that gets in the way of the Legion.” “Not a bad job though, as
long as your not the one frozen stiff and tossed in the cart.”
“Well, I bet your dad’s proud now.”
“Nope, hasn’t spoken to me in three years. Says I spend too much
time hanging about with the lower echelons of humanity.” “I told
him we weren’t partying, that I hacked their limbs off, crushed their
skulls, decimated their homes and villages.” “Last thing he said to me
was Nail Caesar!!” “Ya gotta love these loyal subjects.”
for Isaiah Zerbst, The Roman Legion contest