Long Lapdog Poems
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The attic is creaky and full of dust,
but, I just pretend it is my stardust;
I love playing tea party with my pets,
they sit as I recite my alphabets !
At the table is Willy a huge dog,
black and white fur such a gentle lapdog;
and a pretty tabby cat named Annie,
and one cat called Smarty owned by Granny !
Licking her tea is my fat cat Happy,
a tabby cat who can be quite snappy;
and last sitting on a chair is Teddy,
oh, my teddy bear is always ready !
Sometimes, I bring my dolls but not today,
I told them that on the bed they must stay;
love how light from a window likes to shine,
making the specks of dust drift so divine !
I tell my guests about all the great stuff,
in old trunks that I would find soon enough;
dresses and jewelry to play dress up,
oh, Teddy did I forget your teacup !
_________________________
November 1, 2021
Poetry/Rhyme/Tea Party in the Attic
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1403-056-01
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Rhyme Me A Poem 2
sponsor, Eve Roper, Image inspiration #4
First Place
Winged, winking devils dance
on onyx tinted wings entice
burnt appendages so broken inside rib cage
Unable to fly out of this hell hole
a shadow lifted nevermore
a touch as cold as night lures steel cuts
knees buckle, locked down
nowhere to run from
Rusted chains tighten
each new link pierces,
digs deep the heart's flesh
not enough mercy to shred apart
desire kept it beating just
....this must be what love is
bound in arms
blinded souls cannot escape
Tormented visions
a dark cloud silhouette
spinning around the sun
ravished by chaos
an ancient evil curse arises
within shadows suffering
darkness inside embers burning
with hot pain buried inside ashes
Deeply rooted demonic forces spawn
an evil eye turns
evolving in bad deeds
capturing the innocence of the human
sacrifice
one beast of an unclean spirit
possessing love charms of a snake
coils with lust
putting a heart in chains
attacking with wickedness
Fallen angel filled up inside
hate and pride
cunningly from out of the ashes
remains a demonic lapdog
violating innocence
Soul of impurities
a shadow grows darker
in every love that is taken
unpure vessel when the eyes open
to the dawning light
A collaboration by Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler
Not easy following you,
picking up the pieces
my, how you
wreck with a vengeance.
Not talking just this life,
so many others, no choice
still as mine (the choice), take heed!
come back to me,
'cause, I still follow,
still care, still love.
And I may be the reason
you hate pickles
and mayonnaise..
mixed metaphors,
euwph!
But oh, I bequeathed you my best
the dance of clouds,
icicles..
twizzlers
come back to me,
by choice, all yours
as you release me now.
Been watching over
you,
for sometime..
like a lapdog
ever at your feet
by your side
as you winked.
Until we meet again
m'yeah, just so you know,
as you nod,
I always.., well..
your welcome.
Drove past your old house, slowin' just because..
perhaps just to return to scene of the crime.
Kinda sad to find nothing left as once was,
proof your lapdog better comfort than I.
Came to settle all old grievances,
finish what once so well begun, though breaking.
My mistake in guess, you shined in happiness,
and the whole world was yours for the taking.
I know feet weren't meant to trample a heart,
and finer hands never meant my soul undone.
Maybe there's hope for us, a chance at new start,
can't hold my breath waitin' that day will come.
I touched your citrus seed, tasted tender skin.,
though forgot to quench thirst from sweet juice within.
Chained
Winged, winking devils dance
on onyx tinted wings entice
burnt appendages so broken inside rib cage
Unable to fly out of this hell hole
a shadow lifted nevermore
a touch as cold as night lures steel cuts
knees buckle, locked down
nowhere to run from
Rusted chains tighten
each new link pierces,
digs deep the heart's flesh
not enough mercy to shred apart
desire kept it beating just
....this must be what love is
bound in arms
blinded souls cannot escape
Tormented visions
a dark cloud silhouette
spinning around the sun
ravished by chaos
an ancient evil curse arises
within shadows suffering
darkness inside embers burning
with hot pain buried inside ashes
Deeply rooted demonic forces spawn
an evil eye turns
evolving in bad deeds
capturing the innocence of the human
sacrifice
one beast of an unclean spirit
possessing love charms of a snake
coils with lust
putting a heart in chains
attacking with wickedness
Fallen angel filled up inside
hate and pride
cunningly from out of the ashes
remains a demonic lapdog
violating innocence
Soul of impurities
a shadow grows darker
in every love that is taken
unpure vessel when the eyes open
to the dawning light
A collaboration by Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler
The oak desk is a polished surface
holding-up nothing, reflecting nothing
not even a base of anything.
Once it was an upheaval of random displacements
of elbows and eyes.
E-mails wriggled like worms in wet ground.
Fragments tap danced on hurried fingertips.
The desk grew paper towers
some spoke, others were silent monoliths.
Coffee splashed over keys that opened up
a world no one ever saw from any window.
A lapdog now chatters between belly and knees,
it wags words, pulls them out of muddy puddles
bedraggled and yelping.
The desk needs a vase, maybe a rose in a tulip glass,
what it actually has
is a lot of bundled-up ghosts polished into invisibility.
I look at the deputies,
On the benches of the assembly,
They work for the nation,
But they haven’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
I listen to journalists,
They like champagne,
They like good words,
But they haven’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
The baker is very busy
through its chocolate croissants,
His butter croissants,
But he didn’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
The retiree in his car,
The doctor, in his office,
The delivery people are in a hurry,
But they haven’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
The spectators are happy
When the game starts,
They support players,
But they haven’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
Manet and Picasso, Monet,
Matisse and his friends, Lully
Are great artists,
But they haven’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
It’s better to love Gérard Philippe,
Simone Signoret and Gainsbourg,
Philippe Noiret and Belmondo,
But they haven’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
Sébastien, knows how to manage a cinema,
He is the king of Spain,
Of France and Navarre,
But he didn’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
The neighbor of Melou Street,
Walks her lapdog,
He mows his lawn often,
But he didn’t, that’s for sure
Only honey in the head,
It’s better to know humans,
Garage owners or farmers,
Pharmacist, or Bookseller,
Journalists on France TV 2
Teenagers or guardians of peace,
They are on the lookout for your faults.
I once lived in a notebook but now I live in your head with your dreams.
And I scheme.
He was warmed to the truth by tea and intoxicatologigated by me
I see!
I am right round the corner from him.You might say,we are at right angled cross purposes
Is there a cross surplus?.
As all set out,storms set in,then we all fell out if you see what I dream.
I am mean
You are as truthful as as a chorus of wrongs in rites of the Church choir
Don't leave me in the lurch.I'm a liar.
He’s as tense as a mournful frog in a bog in Ireland in wintery discontentll
It's all meant
As far as the wife can throw,I flew.
I shall sue Sue.
I was flooded as a whole.My emotions welled up and ran all over me like faries’ hands..
Like elastic bands
I am honest as the day is wrong.
Give me a song
He was torn in three by tomcats with balls of steel
They will appeal
I have lost a whole stone and still no moss will grow on me.It grew on the stone!
Now I feel so alone
As Gluck would have it, music is heavenly singing by invisible choirs of cats.
He was bats
I sought him here,I sought him there.I sought him with angelic flair.
But noone catches Tony Blair.
I am as snug as a lapdog in a bog with a brick on its head
Can I sleep on your bed?
She was as tender as an apple tart is round.
and quite sound
As the crow flew,I had to fly as well to avoid it escaping me..I leave no crow alone
They usually get stoned
I wish I could shape shift into a dog.
With you, I would daily jog.
I would wag my tail and be your lapdog.
I would tilt my head and pout,
Run around with my wet snout,
Lie down, and roll over on my back and snub,
For no bubble scrub in the tub.
I would bark and say it is time to play;
Gayfully run to the doorway.
You would throw the ball halfway;
I would race and chase,
Catch, bring it back, and place
Dropping it at your feet, a treat. I am fed.
You would pat the top of my head
And scratch behind my ear and be led.
I would kiss your face and turn you bead red.
You let me sleep beside you as you read.
My big droopy eyes and waggy tail tell you,
No one can love you
As much as I do.
Israel,
the lapdog
of America
and the West.
You are not
a country.
You have become
a symbol
of terror.
Fascism,
rooted in violence
and racial hatred,
has rejected
liberal democracy.
Yet America
and the Western hypocrites
still use you
to perpetuate
their wickedness.
Israel,
you have denied
others
their individual rights,
while embracing
the power
of domination.
Causing chaos
around the world
has become
your daily bread.
Some say,
what you do today,
was once done
in Europe,
until Europe
grew weary
and sent you
to the Middle East.
Now,
the East
is on fire.
But Israel,
remember this—
history
repeats itself.
What came upon you
in the past
may one day
come upon you
again.
Israel,
the love
the world
once had for you
is slowly
fading away.
And those
who defend you today,
may tomorrow
become
your enemies.
For power
cannot purchase
the conscience
of humanity.
And no nation,
however strong,
can escape
the judgment
of history.