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Christmas is creeping in.
I’ve seen my first quality street tin.
The John Lewis advert is out
And the motorised reindeers about.
Shop windows glitter and glow,
Ladbrookes give odds on the snow,
The eyes of the new generation
Are fixed on the latest PlayStation
Mariah Carey is on every show
That pumps out from the radio.
Signs on the roundabouts point
To the nearest Christmas tree joint.
Loft ladders are let down once more
To retrieve the decs from their store
Dads swear in temper and stress
“How could the lights get in this mess ? “
Will there be any turkeys left
Or will the table look bereft ?
Must dig out the walnut cracker
And get my nails booked for a lacquer .
Christmas films on every channel
Full of righteous, festive, flannel
In which life’s drama and life’s dread
Is all made right with gingerbread.
Cinnamon taints everything
Oh Hark - the herald angels sing
But there’s little Christmas love or grace
When you cannot find a parking space.
Supermarkets fill their shelves
With stollen cakes and chocolate elves,
And blokes buy beer to stow away
That’s mostly drunk by Christmas Day.
While some begin to deck the halls
And others feast on cheese footballs
Some just sit and contemplate
How did we all get in this state ?
The days just disappear
As the Yuletide feast gets near.
The shopping list keeps growing
And there’s endless to and froing
Time to pour that glass of Sherry
Time to consult Mary Berry
To make the perfect Christmas pud
The way that only Mary could.
The pogues ring out on Christmas Eve
Shoppers bustle, wind and weave
Through busy crowds they dodge and shift
To find that perfect Christmas gift.
Carollers by the corn exchange
Suddenly come into range
Familiar carols tug the heart
With words that speak of a new start
Will Noddy Holder save the day ?
Will we escape this Yule affray ?
But don’t give up, if all else fails
You’ve got the January sales.
© Mike Miller
"Work pals who Zoom together, stay together." (taken from an article "36 captions for Zoom Meetings, not attributed to anybody in particular)
I’d never heard of Zoom before a few short years ago.
But in my teaching it became a thing I had to know.
It took about a week to learn, for I’m a little slow,
but after two years I can say I still am not a pro!
I made up terms: Zoom on; Zoom off. I only can suppose
that others working from their homes have made up terms like those.
These days I teach while in the classroom, yet up on the screen
are kids I bet are still in “jammies,” just their faces seen!
Some young adults opt to stay home. It makes things hard for me.
Games can’t be played when half the class is learning virtually!
Things can get crazy when somebody isn’t using Mute,
and you might hear some background noises not exactly cute.
We teachers know not everyone is focusing on class.
One good thing is no one has to know if you have gas!
Yes, it’s a crazy world, and even Zoom dating’s a thing,
while Zumping is the latest craze to dump a Zoom-time fling.
Feb. 2, 2022 for the Buzzwords Contest of Kim Rodrigues
Poetry is my most recent passion
That's got me by the scruff of the neck
Grabbed me a couple of years ago
Not getting much sleep, I'm a wreck
Sure didn't know when I started all this
It would ignite this fire in my soul
That rages consuming every damn moment
Two poems a day is my goal
This Poetry Soup site sure is addictive
First thing in the morning I'm there
To see who's reviewed my latest entries
Did they think I wrote them with flair?
Late into the night I'm feverishly editing
Tweaking the words to the last
A few things still really bug me though
But time's running out really fast
Trembling I go to the “post poem” prompt
I click it then patiently wait
A feeling of anxiety creeps over me
As I sit there awaiting my fate
© Jack Ellison 2012
There was a girl named Charmaine
So sweet, not one to complain
Her words did ignite
Put flames in the night
Her rhymes are pretty not plain
Her use of each metaphor
Will lead to visions galore
Like honey and cream
They sweeten each dream
That’s why her rhymes we adore
She writes with class and finesse
Each line has her sweet caress
She flirts with the moon
And makes poets swoon
Her heart is sweet, I confess
So, Girl…here’s looking at you
You bring us visions brand new
Your words are sublime
They have a sweet chime
For you're are a poet so true
Eileen Manassian
I’m blessed to call Charmaine a friend. I adore her heart and her spirit. She doesn’t have a shadow of malice in her sweet character. Her poetry is of the finest…and yet she is so humble about it. This was inspired by her latest poem….I Think of You. It is just…..sublime. I truly can’t do it justice. Love you, Charmaine….I truly do!!
It is not that I see no future, she said,
but that I fear the future that I see.
A world where simple contact with another
is to be seen and understood as prelude
to Armageddon, the end of the world
They tell me I must stay away, she said,
from friends and family from life
No touching of the flesh,no salutation
but from afar, no breathing the same air
lest we all become infected carriers of our doom.
They tell me I must change my life, she said.
Nothing can remain unchanged henceforth
The nightmare scenario of doomsday is now real
and I must now adapt or die in a new society
whose latest paradigm is to separate and divide
They have closed the nation’s borders, she said,
around the globe we must all now fear the others
bearers of sad, bad tidings and the plague,
the ones who are different because they are
not our tribe, our clan, our family,not us ourselves
They tell me, for my safety, I must fear, she said.
Fear contact, fear contagion, fear my friends
Fear neighbours, fear children, fear you, fear me,
Is it not deadly this fear? More deadly than its cause?
The world, our world, may never be the same
Though we may die,
and though it may
lay sleeping for a while,
this fear once now awakened
will, I fear, never leave.
.
Kim Helen James 17/3/2020
Mr. President?
You are wrong once again?
You said that the tragic events
in Texas?,Ohio, Virgina Beach
And Las Vegas
were not “gun situations”
?But rather were mental health problems
And that in Texas
if there had been no gun controls
?Perhaps fewer people would have died
As the NRA says
the only solution to a bad guy with a gun
is a good guy with a gun
Mr. President
?I know you a smart man?
The smartest man in the world
?According to you
Please contemplate this fact
?According to the latest findings
?It is a gun situation
In fact, the reason the U.S.
?Has so many gun deaths?
Is because we have so many guns
?45% of the worlds guns in fact
And 33 percent of the world’s shooters
?Are Americans killing other Americans
And most of them
the majority of them?
Are White men killing other people
Minorities and women
are almost never the shooters
a strange metaphor but true
Not Islamic terrorists?
Most are in fact?Self-proclaimed Christians
Somehow thinking that Jesus
will approve of their actions
and forgive them their sins
Mr. President?
When will you
come to your senses
And do what 90 percent
of the public wants?
Enact nation wide effective gun controls?
And tell the NRA
?they can take their blood money
elsewhere
When Mr. President
?When will you act
?When will you take charge
And become a President of the people
?Instead of the NRA's ?
note: this may be too political and in your face but I don't care. I have had enough of this nonsense. We must stop the carnage in our streets! That’s my two cents worth and I am sticking to my guns pun very much intended.
Listen up guys I have got some news
This is the latest gossip about my muse
She threw her dummy out of the pram
Sometimes she is such a stroppy madam!
She didn’t mean to cause such great alarm
My ‘Bite Me’ poem didn't mean any harm
I agree it’s not my normal cheerful style
But my muse changes once in a while
I have to go with the flow of my pen
It catches me unawares every now and then
I hope that I have cleared up any doubt
My vitriolic muse has been given a clout
So humourous muse is back, she’s here to stay
My deep dark muse is on an extended holiday!
To fully understand this you need to have read my 'Bite me Bite me poem http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/bite_me,_bite_me_678663
1st June 2015
Dear ALLAH I thank you
for every single precious breath
And when you'll place us in paradise
We shall thank you then for death.
People round the world gasping for breath, breathless,
short of breath, some unable to catch their breath,
some breathing their last,
some on artificial costly breathalysers .
How many times do we thank God
for the countless free breaths we breathe our entire life??
Oxygen o2 more valuable and scarce than diamonds nowadays.
Respiration, the main need of all life
Those who eventually recover from covid and find their breath again
can finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Yet heavenly sights in paradise will be sure
to take our breath away anyway.
Life or afterlife
Here and hereafter
Life's a gift from God
Now and thereafter
Why end it here and now
Why not extend fun and laughter?
When my DNA and RNA expires with me
May God Resurrect and revive it in me
I live and die for an extension of life in afterlife
God grant me that part eternity
To search for the meaning and purpose of life
is to search and find the Creator of all life
i know there's out there somewhere
in Allah's universe, a heavenly portal
that will lead me to eternal bliss
designed by Allah the immortal.
Imagine a perfect heavenly life with no fear , death or problems
That's a life to die for, when Allah transports us to those realms.
An abode with no sickness or illness
Only peace and total eternal happiness
No viruses but rather real flying horses like real Pegasuses
We could get to ride and fly the universe
with angelic wings without planes or buses
But you have to work to earn and deserve that heavenly paradise
Just follow God's latest holy book, so perfect and so wise.
The newborn baby,The Second Child
In the Home which just turned four had arrived
and that girls life of three already there
didn't make her approve of
His sudden appear.
Of how was the attention of whole round of busy crowd
at Him from NO despair
And of how she felt Jealous and confused
of her mischiefs now termed as a rebellious dare.
How could she explain that things were not fair
to whom could she tell the latest tales and the
building fear.
The hands she wanted to return,
were busy carrying him.
What could she tell of
how it felt sitting far amongst the crowd
and to touch him , she was last.
Inspite of that his introduction needed to be explained
before anybody else,for Him to first let Her accept.
The explanations still had to be given
of if him she needed to protect at night.
The Scariness of darkness haunted her too
and her hands also fought for someone to hold up tight.
Of if the warmth of her love
She said He neede the most ,
Was it a decision to keep the girl
in the cold alone.
I am sure He slept with no grief
because
He wasn't the One awaken from
The loud whistling wind and striking thunder storm.
And I am sure
He didn't cry on the road while returning home
by looking at a friend taken to arms
when in the Sun ,he was standing alone.
I surely could tell
Mother , You couldn't make to both places
I feel that's why,
Priorities changed and
somehow that Girl became The Second Child.
Form:
What’s a girl to do
Looking looking looking
For completion in a partial world.
Will it be under this rock,
Or along that stream
I’ll find my prince charming
In the form of a frog?
And then what,
How many kisses will it take to know?
What’s a boy to do
When all around the voices say
Don’t don’t don’t
It’s a jungle out there
After the age of about three or four
When it used to be thirteen or fourteen
That something as elusive as an identity even mattered.
And what then,
Will the identity I choose shine enough
And be sticky enough to last
When everyone is racing to the bottom
Of the victim barrel?
Each year a new victim class is anointed
More unlikely, and unlikable, than the last,
And each year we grow a little wearier
With the identity we once sought refuge in.
Out with the old and in with the new
Was so much easier when it was just a year of style
Of hair, or jeans, shoes or music
Than now when it’s a whole world
I must cling to to still be me.
Somewhere I know there must be peace
I can see it in the eyes of those beyond
This obsession with the selfish desire
To find my place and sacrifice my individuality
On the pyramid of victim privilege
But I just can’t give up the habit.
Someday I know I’ll turn fifteen
And grow out of it all
Then maybe I’ll want my breasts back
And my old name,
Until an eternity later I turn sixteen
And the latest fad catches, sticks and shines
And won’t let go, until I see at last
Hopefully before I’m too old and gray,
That just as the question always holds the answer
And the problem its solution
When there is no longer anyone there to search
There is no problem to find.
But until you find that Holy Grail
You’ll just cry away your nightmares
Identifying with the likeminded masses
Seeking safety in their numbers
Where the darkness is complete.
8/5/24