Long Magnificently Poems
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Before I had a boy's perfect body,
the sharpest mind and a spirit full of energy;
even strangers complimented me
on my selflessness, asking God to bless me!
Had I known then that youth wasn't eternal, unlikely the indelible seasons
that renew themselves accordingly, I would have had
a different view of how it should have been lived...
with a more purposeful insight, which allowed no time for regrets!
And that boy's perfect body, carved by loveliness ,
could be seen in photographs belonging to another century;
thick hair and a smooth face defined a neat appearance...
to make plenty of girls stare at me desirously!
O young years, why didn't you warn me of your hastiness?
I could have made the effort to slow you down,
and enjoyed you more without ever wasting time in idleness!
Beautiful and care-free days, how can I posses youth again?
I am still kind of handsome, much older now,
and ladies adore my good looks, once flashing a sweet image
in those attractive and radiant smiles of long time ago,
not worried about any wrinkle revealing their true age!
Before I had a boy's perfect body...
magnificently sculptured like Michelangelo's David;
my adolescence began with my physical beauty,
and ended with that ravishing vanity tossed aside!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
otherwise wordily titled: pooped out
after pouring bucketfuls of water into
place of ablutions
all the while skipping to my loo
umpteen times courtesy bathtub faucet
turned toward hot temperature
so toilet would finally,
magnificently, and royally flush.
As ofttimes occurred in the past
anonymous reader's time
I once again promise to waste
concerning asinine verbiage
without this bard **** feeling shamefaced
broadcasting his fealty
to posterior predilections must appear
(as rearing to volley rebuttal
against fans of mine) yours truly
ofttimes discusses that byproduct,
which issues out buttucks) narrow-based
if not downright banal, gross, offal... in haste
to craft something more philosophical
how craven potty talk
whereby theme doth self debase.
I excreted a bowel movement
earlier today June 5th, 2022
substantial enough to sink battleship
(maybe ye experienced tsunami after effects)
laboriously dumping bucketfuls of hot water
insync with applying plunger found me a drip
with perspiration, and would have possibly found
site manager and/or maintenance man to flip
(a rare sight to behold
worth inconvenience of clogged toilet bowl),
which yours truly felt strain in back muscles
as he poured bucketfuls of water from his hip
accidentally splashing water
on bathroom floor
yes your honor
(necessitating poop deck to evacuate)
if thee choose to sit in judgeship
but please be mindful
to restrain giving me any lip
cuz atypical dilemma I figuratively did nip
in the bud, yet foresee similar outcome
sure as this...
once upon a sage, rosemary and parsnip
herbaceous generic fellow sought readership
ideally landing webbed wide world trip
heralded all along as a V.I.P.
where fanfare for this common man
would find his doggerel
induced listeners to yip.
A breathtaking panoramic view fascinated my sight into the offing,
As the sea gloriously shows its precious treasure magnificently floating;
Making me wish to be an albatross to hover and hop around;
On those beautiful islands highlighted by a single beauty named, James Bond.
This place is known originally and locally as Nail Island,
It’s one of the best tourists’ spots found in Phang Nga Bay at Phuket, Thailand
A prominent tall stone coated with green nailed unto the sea amidst the others,
Which you and I will surely be amazed by its spectacular beauty and wonder.
Sightseeing trip is priceless while on your way to its exact location,
You can pass by at the Monkey Caves with golden Buddha - another real attraction,
Taking a convenient long-tailed boat as you finally tour along the bay,
Stop by at floating Bin Laden Village to complete your day.
Aug. 2, 2013 12.30am
Note:
I've visited this place once & it's really beautiful. To view the pictures, you can google it or watch the movie of James Bond;))) TY
Third Place
Contest: Latest Poem
Judged: 8/14/2013
sponsor: My greatest poet, PD
Pig Patty Plop ran into the Laundry mat,
From the awful butcher she was hiding.
Tired, busy mommy was taking some shirts out,
Bubbles hit the floor, and Patty was soon sliding.
She tried to hide under a young child's chair,
But the child let out an enormous scream.
She jumped into a white plastic laundry basket,
But her enormously fat posterior was not clean.
An apron-ed butcher walked in and glared around,
A maniacal man, holding his butcher knife.
On a cell phone we called the police in town.
and they arrested him, detectives from vice.
The pig was hailed a hero, and honored in the town hall.
Saving the rest of the crew from a butcher, deranged, was he.
As a prize for saving the rest of the patrons, eleven in all,
She was allowed to take a spin in washer number thirty- three
In toiling times
the resilient state
of self-discipline
connects conscience
with perennial precept
in the algorithm of being
with ego abandoned
the meaning of life
measured emotionally
with essence quotient
of inspiring insight
defines the transcendence
of enigmatic existence
harmoniously enshrined
within the latent
human distillate.
Buoyant beyond
the storm of strife
convivial calmness
flows flawless
with composed current
of sensuous sentiment
submerging surge
of lavish love
and
embalming empathy
spread suffused
with optimistic opulence
on restored shore
of serene soul
unwavering mind
trussed secured
with scrupulous roots
of sanctified psyche
the thwarting thrust
of negative sensitivity
fades in sanguine air
blows away
the base instincts
in the wisdom wind
of ethical acuity.
With moral fiber
of positive passion
consciously creative
innovative mind
weaves the tapestry
of timeless acumen
embedded enmeshed
within motionless motif
of inner bliss
in the frame
of placating prudence
the art of living
manifests magnificently
the masterpiece.
To be generous without greed
is the commitment I'm making;
satisfaction comes from rendering
one happy, not repaying the deed!
The quest for truth is for the bold to ensure,
and certainly not too imprudent to follow;
one must show persisting fortitude and allow
patience not to wear out but to continue
to strive until certainty is that solemn promise
uttered sweetly contemplating a brighter sunrise!
In all my envisioned glory, all I wished in care-free youth was
the idyllic tranquility of landscapes broken by a running stream,
skies radiating with light and magnificently dressed in blue;
who wouldn't listen to the starlings serenading to their mates?
See me observing aromatic roses gleaming with sunrise' dew,
see me picking daisies for mom to make those hazel eyes gleam!
To be generous without greed seem such unrealistic words
spoken by a visionary mind awoken in mid-sleep by an echo of terror...
to adapt a diverse creed and restore the faith violated by selfish Lords
who kept all the gold and gave none to the vagrant beggar!
Upon these craggy hills, I sit and in wonderment, I stare
Gods beauty is reflected everywhere
thundering surf crashing below
It's Thomas Hardy's world we know
The limestone rock formations
Millions of years the transformation
Under the sea, they lay until the continents collided
And here they stand in awe, magnificently divided.
The Jurassic coast of Dorset
Lulworth Cove its corset.
On ancient hills, my feet now trudge
I give myself a needed nudge
A little further up the hill
I feel a sudden eerie chill
The ghost of Thomas Hardy in our midst
Least I fool you with my wist.
I walk upon these craggy hills
The ocean below its froth it spills
How much longer, my feet are aching
The suns come out and I am baking.
A little further, a little more
Around the corner awaits Durdle Door
I punch my fist up in the air,
What I see below is rare.
Durdle Door the famous arch
I reached it finally. I am parched.
I snap the pictures in disbelief
There it stands like a commander in chief
The arch looks like a dinosaur
The thunderous waves roar with encore
My eyes hug the cliffs along the coast
The Atlantic Ocean blue, the sky reflecting in its hue
A ship in the distance is sailing
I must make my visit brief Adele and the dogs are waiting
I quench my thirst with much-needed water
I should have made her come, I should have brought her.
The snaps and video will have to do
I loved my trip down the Jurassic coast and so will you.
Salmon Run
A flurry of reds emerges distorted from the river
As the sockeye salmon return from the ocean,
Following the scent of their home stream water
And swimming upstream to the place of their birth;
In this, their final act is to propagate the species.
During this migration, the sockeyes consume no food
But depend on their stored body fat reserves.
The salmon flesh is red due to the krill they eat,
and this pigment moves to the skin where they absorb their scales
as the flesh turns white, which is an indication of their health.
They endure the struggle over falls, up rapids,
And past man-made structures and predators
To reach the spawning grounds of their creation.
The name originates from the Pacific Indigenous peoples’
Salish languages,
Who called them “suk-kegh,” meaning “red fish,” after their colour.
For centuries, the coastal tribes’ ancestral heritage
fished the salmon for sustenance
And traditions and believed that all living things were once people.
To them, the sockeye salmon symbolizes determination,
renewal, and prosperity.
Frantically, grotesque-looking fish splash furiously.
The females in a frenzy sweep their tails to make beds,
While males await excitedly, defending their mates,
Ready to move in between them and the nest
To fertilize the eggs that are about to be laid.
They didn’t always look this way, with the upper portion
of the snout
Elongated, protruding over the bottom as if hook-jawed
With long fanged teeth and greenish-hued heads,
And red-pigmented bodies with thick leathery skin,
With a hump on their backs that makes them appear freakish.
The juveniles remain in the freshwater until mature.
Then, they swim out into the ocean for two to three years
before returning to repeat the cycle.
Steely silver-blue tinted colour with white bellies
And heads of natural proportions to the rest of their sleek,
transparent-scaled, torpedo-shaped bodies;
Magnificently gorgeous for a fish.
i'd just come in and made a cup of tea.
ten minutes later, i went to admire my work by the front window
that's when i saw him
he'd already made a start
he had pulled up the windscreen wipers
sponge and bowl full of bubbly water
fast-paced doesn't do it justice
washing, with mischief and energy
magnificently grotesque; a cunning, vacant expression
did i trigger this?
is this a coincidence?
i wanted to go and ask him
i went through the imagined conversation
but i couldn't do it
and i watched him groom the taillights
my wife hadn't noticed how clean our car was
i sulked at dinner, eating my
emotionally abused peas
November brings a blissful happiness,
after excitement of fall mellows down,
trees bare, as if stretching their branches upward,
praying to our Creator in thankfulness,
dazzling colours of leaves have faded away, their
rustling music no longer tells an enchanting tale,
soothing breeze, Northern chilly wind hasn't arrived yet.
When the frosty wind starts blowing in November,
I don’t curse the wind, but soak the beauty of dewdrops at dawn,
glistening magnificently on the gleaming tips of grass,
lovingly admire the chirping of migratory birds, and
scurrying of frisky squirrels holding their treasures,
for the last time this year!
birds are not cruel, they are not abandoning me for ever,
they promise to return in summer,
embarking on a plight of thousands of miles,
For a rendezvous in sun!
I watch stoically the last batch of flowers wither,
pick a few last veggies in the corner,
rake yellow leaves scattered on the ground,
and smell the heavenly aromatic, pleasant, entrancing air!
In my garden, the calm and gentle Willow stands in silent prayer.
November 7, 2022
"November" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Mcintosh