Long Lady friend Poems
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6 years ago, I wrote limericks about 5 PS poets. Today, I've posted
about another 5 and will continue to add more... before 6 years.
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So, I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there is the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
The new additions...
Like a brother he comes to my defense
This man wears no guise and has no pretense
Mark Koplin, misunderstood
A modern-day Robin Hood
To me he shines with rays of effulgence
There's a man who took me under his wing
Says what he thinks. Doesn't hold back a thing
Danny Turner, my friend
A helping hand he'll lend
For offering kind words, he's a wellspring
David Kavanagh, true friend from the start
Encouraging advice, he does impart
Throws Monoku lines like spears
I raise a glass to him ~ cheers!
Loyal, his word. A man with a good heart
Canadian, Vaso, we don't see oft
Art doesn't come across as being soft
But has a tender heart
For countries torn apart
His poetic words should never be scoffed
His funny thoughts overflow in a Flood
Terry writes humor that's never a dud
Risque, and sometimes not
His stories have a plot
Rumor has it that he's known as 'The Stud'
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
Right when I thought I had figured things out,
FEAR sauntered in and introduced DOUBT.
The twins came over, DISMAY and DESPAIR.
Then APATHY appeared. Does anyone care?
DISGUST and DISDAIN knocked on my door.
DISILLUSIONMENT laughed at what was in store.
ENVY and PRIDE cried unanimous cheers.
DOOM and DESPERATION were invoking my fears.
DEFIANCE brought a sign reading, “Come watch him fall.”
A gruesome and grotesque masquerade ball.
A party complete full of Demons and Ghouls.
This chaotic nightmare was void of all rules.
I ventured outside away from the noise,
despondent by actions that EVIL employs.
I sat on the porch with my hands on my face.
The stench of DESTRUCTION dispensing DISGRACE.
I cried out, “Dear Lord, what more can I do?”
I jumped when a voice said, “It’s all up to you.”
I gathered my senses and offered a seat
to an elderly woman, who lived down the street.
“That’s quite a party you seem to be throwing.”
I nodded my head, “It just keeps on growing.”
She leaned in and whispered, “They run in packs,
carefully planning these full-scale attacks.”
I asked her the reason they all showed up here?
She said, “You empowered the illusion of FEAR.
Without you to help them, their power is weak.
They gather up strength from words that you speak.
What you don’t understand, regardless it’s true,
GOD gave authority over Demons to YOU.”
Something made sense in what she had said.
She changed the perceptions I had in my head.
So, I stormed in the house with COURAGE and PEACE,
screaming, “It’s over! This party must cease!”
CONVICTION paraded as FAITH filled my heart.
In the name of JESUS, I demanded they part!
Their revelry turned into howling and shrieks.
A bellowing ANGST echoed out from the peaks.
They whined and moaned but followed command.
HOPE cleansed the room and TRUTH took a stand.
My new found friend was no longer there.
I shouted out “Thank You!” into the night air.
Hearing my commotion, “For what?” asked my wife.
“Your church-lady friend may have just saved my life.”
“You mean GRACE?” she questioned, “Didn’t you know?”
“GRACE went to heaven almost two weeks ago.”
I took her hand and we knelt down to pray,
thanking GOD for the POWER in WORDS that we say.
Poetry knows no age, as thee Marcia
Abramsohn (the former ex lady friend
of my late father corresponded with me
some years back)
wrote (by hand nonetheless,
a long lost art) inlaid with ambidextrous
zealousness impossible to identify,
which hand crafted artistically colorful
epigrammatic ghostly hint emblematic
of former exuberance toward English
Language..., perhaps other once
vibrantly familiar tongues wagging
less as tempus fugit slithers unseen
stealing most cherished, prized, savored...
commodity set to countdown immediately
post parturition, yet blessed for thee
to be gifted your then four score plus four
amazingly graceful journeys celebrating
your existence replete with handmaid's
tales chronicling quotidian trials and
tribulations, yet still adept, buoyant,
cogent, diligent, eloquent, fervent,
gallant, hellbent, intent, jimmying,
kindling, loving, mustering, nursing,
outlasting...Methuselah (ha...if only)
lucid moments nudging awake
memorialized occasions, where once
upon a time (seems bajillion years ago)
innocence concomitant with naivete
throve, wherein unfettered dalliances
found untrammeled lasses and lads
absorbed with natural unbridled virgin
love – gathering rosebuds while they may
whispering sweet nothings strictly
for respective paramour, (this of course
hearsay and speculation) promising each
other moon and stars ah...dusty fading
memories, yours truly can never recount,
(cuz mental illness co-opted, hijacked,
up-ended...adolescent maturation,
whereby agonizing crippling forfeiture jabs
silhouetted illusory oasis peopled with
all the golden opportunities left to wither
on the vine o'mine youth, which mirage
mocks escapist attempt into literary realm
invisible dead poets society regale an
existence bereft nope, no App could
ever even virtually duplicate (even
approximate) sidelined unrequited love,
and no this marriage yielded scanty
satisfaction, which fantasy life as
Norwegian bachelor farmer
(within mine imagination) solved,
where living off the grid remedied
forever being pennilessness, day late
dollar short dime a dozen dirt poor
dude dulling dufus...that's the news from
my Lake Woebegone...where all the
women...and children above the law
never get reprimanded.
Kirsten tried to talk, but couldn’t find the words,
So Endicott nodded and continued to speak:
“When you’ve been in Hell for millions of years,
you’ll do just about anything to get yourself free.
“And when I escaped, and came to this town
one hundred sixty of your years ago,
I said to the Big Guy, if you let me stay here
my powers shall be yours to control!
“Then He accepted, and gave me my task:
to stay in this great city and keep track
of the powers infernal that prey on you all,
if nobody will stand up and fight back.
“But I didn’t know the whole of the deal,
and from the day I was granted my stay,
bit by bit the darkness that once fueled my life
the Big Man gradually stole away.
“My eyes ones always glowed red with hate,
and now I’m tired and utterly spent,
from summoning the strength of Hell below
to drive that mad ghost from my lady friend…
“I should’ve know, all the way back then,
that He had ulterior designs.
The true price asked: embracing the light,
leaving my dark predilictions behind.
“But my task is my task, and I must go on,
though it leaves me in more and more pain.
Until the day He asks of me no more,
and leaves me to play the old mortal game.”
With that he got up, walking on out,
Kirsten could not begin to understand.
For days she wondered, prayed, and mused
about things well beyond woman and man.
She went to his flat seven days later,
and found him three sheets to the wind.
She said,”I thank you for saving my life,
But I don’t even know where to begin!
“Demons walking the earth, working for God?
Ghosts of murderous men thought long dead?
Glowing eyes and infernal powers…
It’s just too much for one person’s head.
“So I’m leaving town, and not coming back,
and I don’t want you following me.”
Endicott nodded, answering her back:
“If that’s the way that it has to be.”
So Kirsten left, moving far out west.
Endicott continued on with his look-out.
For evil is not quiet, and rarely rests,
he knew he’d fight again, he had no doubt.
But the tragic thing is that he never did,
and his love Kirsten never would know,
that for the next fifty years Endicott aged
and not once more did his eyes ever glow…
The majority of the following poem was
lost forever, except for a portion recalled
by the author's lady friend, many years after
his untimely death. I will post the recollections
of Mrs. Shew-Houghton first, followed by my own
additions (appearing in ALL CAPS).
The Beautiful Physician (Poe's last poem)
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God nerve the soul that ne’er forgets
In calm or storm, by night or day,
Its steady toil, its loyalty.
[. . .]
[. . .]
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God shield the soul that ne’er forgets.
[. . .]
[. . .]
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God guide the soul that ne’er forgets.
[. . .]
[. . .] so tired, so weary,
The soft head bows, the sweet eyes close,
The faithful heart yields to repose.
Beloved Physician
© EA Poe & Ben Burton (1849 & 2015)
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God nerve the soul that ne’er forgets
In calm or storm, by night or day,
Its steady toil, its loyalty.
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God BLESS the soul that ne’er forgets
THE PAPERS EARNED THROUGH STEADY TOIL
GREAT PASSION BURNING MIDNIGHT OIL
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God SAVE the soul that ne’er forgets.
AND LOITERS NOT FOR RECOMPENSE
BUT HEEDS THE FIRST CALL TO ATTEND
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God LIGHT the soul that ne’er forgets.
THE GENTLE SMILE BEFORE THE CUT
WITH CONFIDENCE, THE CALMING HUSH
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God LEAD the soul that ne’er forgets
WITH KNOWLEDGE EARNED, AND SKILLS APPLIED
BY NIMBLE HAND, INCISIVE EYE
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God shield the soul that ne’er forgets.
FIRST DO NO HARM, THEN DO WHAT'S BEST
WHEN ALL ROADS FAIL, THE INFORMED GUESS
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God guide the soul that ne’er forgets.
IN PLAGUE AND WAR, THE NUMBERS MASS
IN DOUBLE TIME, REVEAL THE PATH
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
God SHOW the soul that ne’er forgets.
WITH HEART RATE DROPPING STEADILY
LAST RITES INSPIRE ETERNITY
The pulse beats ten and intermits;
ALAS, BESET WITH WEARINESS
The soft head bows, the sweet eyes close,
The faithful heart yields to repose.
Sweet Felicia wore a frown, as the distant thunder grew
Raindrops fell and nearly drowned, the beetles running two by two
We ran in tandem through the night, seeking shelter from the storm
In the distance shone a light, and in peril hope was born
A simple cabin through the fog appeared, as if a vision in a dream
We slowly walked, and as we neared, it was beyond a shallow stream
And now to wade in this cold wind, took all our courage and our grit
And as we rapped upon the door, the darkened window became lit
As the door swung open slowly, a bearded elder did appear
"Who is it, who wants to enter?" I spoke but stuttered as he came near
“We’re seeking shelter from the storm, as we lost our way back home
Our nerves are tattered, our wills are worn, this tempest chilled us to the bone”
The blind man begged us “come inside”, arm in arm we slowly entered
Felicia clinging to my side, the blind man asked us where we ventured
As I began to speak, a darkened figure did appear
My hands did shake, my knees grew weak, Felicia screamed as he came near
“What frightens so your lady friend?”, I cried “man don’t you know what you have here?”
“It’s just a visitor” the fool replied, and said we should no be in fear
Felicia hid behind my back, as this large creature held out his hand
I slowly held mine out as well, and we shook slowly where I stand
I realized what I just saw, was something spoken of in tales of lore
Yes it was Bigfoot standing here in front of me, I thought of heading for the door
The blind man said we all should sit, wait out the storm, wait ‘till daylight
So we all sat and had some wine, the blind man’s hand produced a pipe
Where did he get this wondrous herb?, that made my smile light up so bright
Before the clock struck once again, Felicia went out like a light
And as my body now grew numb, I tried to rise to no avail
And flying high now as a kite, tomorrow I must not tell this tale
To those who wonder where we were, on yesterdays long journey
We both agreed that we should say, we went to see a friend named Bernie
Can someone give me the address of a princess?
The fires of my loneliness fills my life with much distress.
Destroys my dreams and all my happiness.
I know the love that's buried inside me;
When explored will be Universal Poetry.
Come on PoetrySoup, I desire a lady friend.
Who would you guys recommend?
My words aren't to difficult to comprehend.
I would be a very passionate boyfriend.
And no, I would never offend;
But undrstand I tend to be a comedienne.
How long 'til she comes along to save me emotionally?
I need to be fed love because I'm hungry.
Can I swim in your spirituality?
Yes you! Don't look around, I'm talking to you!
My name is Jimmy Matthew....
Can I enter your canoe?
Will you share with me your virtu?
Can I possibly taste your honey dew?
I have my eyes on the prize, is that wise?
I can't help but to wonder about the color of her eyes.
I wonder how she fills up a pair of Levi's.
See I've hung on to every "comment" she's made.
I can guarantee that with me this love will be
Taylor-made.
I admit I'm slightly afraid, it's been so long since
I persuaded a woman - where would I begin?
I just want to be her man, hold her hand,
and be her "yes-man!"
Finding my Queen will jsut have to wait.
After all, I am only an inmate!
To see a pic of me, read a brief bio...go to prisonpenpals.com
Find me...Alphabetically or by State...NC
Don't be shy to write and say hello I welcome all poetry soup family. All letters will be
responded to and try to enclose a picture THX!!
One Mayday the girls of Penzance,
Being rather board with the lacy of romance,
Joined a Parade,
With there Banners displayed,
Offering sex to the Yanks;
One was a Lady from Pecking,
Who indulged in a great deal of necking,
But it seemed such a waste,
Since she claimed to be chaste,
But that statement however, neads checking,
Another young Lady from London's west,
Had on an ankle length string vest,
But there were some holes,
For the respectable souls,
So she could have sex while dressing
Now another young woman from Southend,
Had intended a love'ing week end,
She waved to her mate,
Good golly I'm late,
For her mate had a new lady friend,
"BY'
" THE WARRIOR POET"
"E.J.Healy."
..........................................
March Winds
Stooping their backs while grasping their hats,
The gentleman and lady friend push back
The wind, attempting to gain progression
On the sidewalk to their destination.
One leg ahead, followed by the other
Stepping forward in an aggressive manner,
They make tracks, but the draft is intently
Sweeping, brutally blistering, and chilling.
This is not the juncture to be out there, I conjecture
While staring out the window, observing the weather
And the motions and energies exerted by the couple
Entering the establishment where I wait on tables.
Raw oysters with cucumber mignonette sauce
(Recommended by many for manly performance)
Complement steamed Asian greens and oyster mushrooms,
With a slightly chilled Chablis to rid the gloom.
In-between seasons of winter and summer,
When the snow melts by the sun and wind’s vigour,
Giving way to raw dynamics and our encounter.
March winds—I was never too fond of the changeover,
Except on the latter in April’s joy filled days,
When spring becomes wonderful to the pupil
And I smell the sporting grass and see trees sprouting leaves
And flowers unfolding their petals in the warm breeze.
Whereupon the bough birds chirp endlessly
And bees fattening on blooms hum melodiously,
And people, carefree, are zestfully happy,
As when entering a garden of felicity.
Discreetly, I recompose myself not to let my emotions display
And leave the miss and her beau to enjoy their entrée plate,
Who softly giggle to each other with innocent grins
Of fortitude when out there braving March winds.
On a horse at the crossroads a pistol in his hand
Dressed in dark clothing he looked fine and grand
Waiting in the moonlight for the York coach to appear
With cool nerves of steel; he showed no fear.
A gentleman by day and a Highwayman by night
Only carried out his crimes when the moon shone bright
Nicknamed Captain Luna; there was a price on his head
If you didn’t part with your valuables you’d end up dead
He heard it in the distance; the approaching coach
A lady friend had requested a necklace or a brooch
He'd heard some well to do had attended a ball
They'd be dripping with jewellery; he wanted it all.
He moved onto the road as the coach drew near
His face covered with a black mask to instill fear
He ordered the two coachmen “slow down to a stop
And throw down those bags you have on the top”.
He then shouted to the passengers" alight if you please
And line up if you will, over yonder by them tree’s”
Three ladies and a gentleman dressed in clothes so fine
Adorned with jewellery that twinkled, in the moonshine.
He said “you and your fine jewellery must forever part
Please fill up my leather bag and I'll let you depart”
The ladies were crying thinking that they'd all die
They thought anything Captain Luna said would be a lie.
He went through the bags and pulled out a silk dress
And thought to himself this will fit my lady friend Tess
He picked up his leather bag and into the night rode away
Leaving his victims quite shaken and in total disarray.
Written 15th day of April 2020.