Long Overcoats Poems
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The places we chose to put ourselves
willingly, unwillingly.
Past lives linger and we emerge with a scream
spitting the remnant wombs from pursed lips
producing the perennial pucker
the seeking sucking sounds as we search
for this incarnation's tit.
Why does one leave the shelter of wing
the warmth of nest
and with bowed head search the syllabi
of society for meaning from the first scream
while others linger in reminiscence of a lost dream?
Thrown from the warmth of family
the naive can chose to fade, to wilt, to die
or to rise wide eyed center stage
spitting angry ugliness back at the defilers
or smiling sweet dishonesties like overcoats
woolly and warm on a bitter winters day.
Karma its existence a righteous warning
to the wary womb walkers
many paths to take, many horizons
to bridge and neither smile nor scream
may be the proper response
go figure....
Laying in the gutter a young
girl seemed asleep lamp posts
look down at rats with greasy
black hair sniffing at her
arm people with thick overcoats
walk around her murmering
contaminated water of many colors
creep along the curb curious stray
cats come to investigate curling
their bodies round the girls cold
white slender leg pleading to be
petted long blond hair matted
like burlap cover her open blank
eyes
Dried blood from a needle in her
lifeless arm stopped flowing after her
heart gave out her bare feet caked
with mud cops milling around discussing
last night’s football game just another
victim of drugs
sirens in the distance howling like animals
ready to take the girl to the waiting morgue
her family’s calls to missing persons and police
went unheeded.
“Twas halloween night and well it had been
till falling asleep and hell it then seemed...
I was sitting at home all by myself
Suddenly my eyes were drawn to the shelf
The clock had grown a vile, gruesome green face
A long pointed nose, with teeth a disgrace.
It started to speak with an eerie sound
The voice echoed, bouncing off walls all round
Houselights started to dim and to flicker
Scared I instantly went all aquiver.
Someone took my hand and led me upstairs
Afraid, I whispered “save me” in prayer
Waiting up there were ghouls and ghastly ghosts
Skeletons wearing long black overcoats.
A mist rolled in and so did vampire bats
Then came terrifying, creepy black cats
Witches flew in through windows on broom sticks
Yelling and screaming at me, "treat or tricks."
Couldn’t speak or bellow, just slunk to the floor
Passed out because I couldn't take any more
I woke and my mother was standing there
"Darling" she said "you have had a frightmare."
...so I wrote a poem on the dream theme.
Written: 15th October 2020
.....and so I wrote a poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
**********
We flew through the air on a refurbished plane,
the shakes and the rattles sure gave us some pain.
But we were the ones who fortune had named
to spend years Far East with our dad’s army game.
The journey exciting, we’d not been before
to a place where the winters did not foul our door,
so with overcoats changed for our tropical clothes
we boarded the plane to where God only knows.
With propellers screaming we tore on our way
and rose in the air as the ground dropped away,
though creaking and groaning the plane struggled on
though both the wings flapped as we flew to the sun.
British Eagle, the airline that carried us away,
a turbo prop plane that had long past its day.
But that’s all our army could ever afford
when transporting dozen of families abroad.
Though night time in Turkey, at our first stop,
was not really the place where we found it too hot,
when we landed in India, some time around noon,
I think that it dawned what we’d be facing soon.
As we walked down the gantry to this foreign place
I thought the plane’s engines blew hot in our face,
but as we walked away the hot stream still blew strong
and it soon became clear t’was the wind all along!
But soon we resumed on our creaky old ride,
like sardines in a can we were packed back inside
and as Singapore rose in the sky like the sun
our new life in the tropics had really begun.
From a plane that just made it, next day was a train
with another full day of rough travelling again,
with seats made of wicker on which we would ride
and bunks made of wood crammed with people each side.
The view as we trundled down the track for that day
was worth any discomfort the train threw our way,
plantations and jungle, bananas and palms,
made this glorious Malaya a world full of charms.
Four years in Penang with its warmth, sun and sea
changed not only my life but the essence of me,
though it’s now fifty years since I had to depart
this ‘Pearl of the Orients’ still lives in my heart.
Ivor G Davies
I have to crane my neck
the small coterie presses,
I am too short
for long distance seeing
walls tower over my eyes
like curtains.
“You have to see the hidden in the hidden”
The svelte tailored nose-whisper
expects me to know what he means.
I do, but I am not going to nod
and affirm his effete conceits
besides, I am only here
because of the rain.
I am still trying to step back
to take the image in
from a far view
but there are backs
and back-packs,
slow dripping rain hats.
Spectacles are steaming up
in the muggy ambience,
and he is droning
going to a place
where flowers in a vase
mark a post-revolutionary
something or other.
Now I can’t see it at all
perhaps it is hiding in its
hideaway
almost in front of my face?
I overhear
over damp overcoats
it being coaxed
into something more,
much more
than a few blobs of color
caught indoors
on a rainy day.
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
Form:
The City Is a Garment
by Michael R. Burch
A rhinestone skein, a jeweled brocade of light,—
the city is a garment stretched so thin
her festive colors bleed into the night,
and everywhere bright seams, unraveling,
cascade their brilliant contents out like coins
on motorways and esplanades; bead cars
come tumbling down long highways; at her groin
a railtrack like a zipper flashes sparks;
her hills are haired with brush like cashmere wool
and from their cleavage winking lights enlarge
and travel, slender fingers ... softly pull
themselves into the semblance of a barge.
When night becomes too chill, she softly dons
great overcoats of warmest-colored dawn.
Originally published by The Lyric
it all seemed bazaar to me;
that Santa wore a thick fur lined coat,
but our sun gave off a blistering heat.
xmas characters wore overcoats, beanies and gloves,
but I was wearing shorts, T-shirt and thongs.
ice and thick snow covered the festive ground,
but I looked upon a dry ground covered in dust.
sky`s were cloudy, grey with no shining sun.
but I stood under blue sky with a blazing sun.
they slid over freezing snow and ice
I was cooling off in the deep blue sea.
The season’s trees were lush and green.
but the trees I saw were dry and brown.
when they were out looking for reindeers,
I had to look out for slithering snakes.
they placed the yuletide log to the open fire,
I turned on the air-conditioner way up to high.
people drank steaming cups of egg-nog,
but I was adding ice to my soft drinks.
even though the temperature was over 30 degrees,
we still had that hot, cooked lunch.
Finished off with warm pudding and hot custard.
autumn rainbow jubilee
shades of autumn burst
colorful hillside hues ~
inner fire of fall
umber oaks shed leaves
tall forest giants shiver ~
sleepy acorns doze
fiery scarlet leaves
sugar maples glow like coals ~
flurries of orange
fall breeze fantasies
gold flutters from aspen trees ~
overcoats of snow
birch trees ochre leaves
black and white tuxedo bark ~
kinglets swing on boughs
multi-colored leaves
rainbows green pink and saffron ~
sycamores spread fruit
shapely hickory
furrowed dark grey scaly bark ~
squirrels hide tree nuts
spiny light brown pods
autumn storms harvest chestnuts ~
cold reigns in raindrops
autumn jubilee
bounty of leaves nuts and seeds ~
beauty walks the earth
10-27-22
Soon one and all will welcome the unique
Pleasantness of spring. Sun’s
Rays and showers will fulfill their
Intended purpose, engendering
New life in the earth as we say
Good-bye to winter’s last cold blast.
Indoor time will decrease as
Sounds of joy fill the air outside.
Closets will reflect the season--
Out with the overcoats, gloves,
Muted shades, and heavy shoes;
In with brighter, light-weight apparel.
Now, let’s unbox those shorts and flipflops.
Go ahead and stock up on grilling supplies.
Some of us have allergies.
Our eyes and noses will flow freely.
Our meds, we hope, will help. Achoo!
NEVERTHELESS, WE ALSO LOVE SPRING!
January 30, 2021
entered in Brian Strand's All Yours (Jan 29) contest