Long Playing field Poems
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By John Weaver
At school I learned to read and write, to add and take away,
Of geography and history and sports I learned to play
They taught me all about the world and even outer space
And how to beat another as competition I would face
I learned of lands and cultures that had a different cause
And so we fought and beat them in many different wars
They said that strength and power was the thing I needed most
That I should learn to conquer others, no matter what the cost
They taught me how to be a winner at my work and play
And never mind the loser who may fall along the way
Through all those years of learning the plan was plain to see,
The only thing that mattered was what I could do for ME
Then I met my teacher who taught me something new
That all those things I’d learned had nothing at all to do
With living life with purpose and thought for our fellow man
By showing care and love to others as often as we can
My teacher taught me that life is a level playing field
That we’re all in it together sharing wounds that must be healed
There simply is no difference between you and me
We’re all God’s own children and one big family
My teacher taught the needs of others and the hardships they have to face
May well have been my own, if not for God’s good grace
That handicaps and weaknesses are really there to prove
How fortunate I am to see and talk and hear and move
My teacher showed that happiness is just a case of choice
Instead of choosing sadness we simply choose rejoice
Rejoice that we are able to experience every day
The beauty that the blind can’t see and words the mute can’t say
To walk and talk and feed yourself are gifts you should embrace
It’s the taking part that matters and not who wins the race
And as each and every one of us is taking part in life
What matters most is our gratitude regardless of our strife
To be grateful for the gifts you have and not those you desire
Is the secret to your happiness and to which you should aspire
To show your love to others with help, support and care
To let them know if needed that you are always there
My teacher taught me lessons I never will forget; and I know it sounds absurd
But she taught me all of this and yet…SHE NEVER SPOKE A WORD.
(I call Emily my teacher because although she cannot speak and can do so little, she has taught me so much).
Self quarantined misanthrope pitched into purgatory wham!
Ably cane resign eternal damnation (mine)
courtesy devil specially engraved telegram
prestidigitation found me vanishing shazam,
without a trace I disappeared in thin air voila
Earthly travails atop horns of dilemma ram
into me buttucks pitching yours truly ma'am
hoisted by my own petard sheepishly wool
ewe (red dully) bull heave human bug eyed
recalcitrant specimen (me) nonetheless lamb
basted skewered (think shish kabob) log jam
succinctly described helplessness to preserve
ultimately repurposed into green eggs and ham
harmless recluse no more valuable than flotsam.
Grant simple wish to withdraw into hermitage
coronavirus (COVID-19) just desserts we wage
us *****sapiens on trial across web world stage
severely misappropriating Earthly resources rage
understandable Gaia she pointedly reminds adage
inescapable comeuppance whereby our civilization
written off as atrocious, hellacious, malicious, page
poisonous primates essentially, dismally, yes clearly
bollixed, failed, leveraged, & tortured planet I gauge
hell in a handbasket ironic tragicomic fate wise sage
of yesteryear did prognosticate now we scurry hither
and yon, to and fro Smashing Pumpkins immortalize
metaphor likened each one of us as rat locked in cage
bajillion eons ago once upon a time our noble savage
ancestors levels playing field now new bacteriophage
relentlessly pits twenty first century civilization doles
microscopic organism (battling unseen enemy) voyage
around sun fraught tooth and nail powder milk biscuits
a Prairie Home Companion ruse buzzfeeding courage
for shy people (yours truly) communicating message,
albeit urgent to revamp paradigm to live social - nsync
with eco friendly coda allowing, enabling, & providing
liberty and justice for all living (colorful) things hostage
at mercy of self proclaimed superior beasts above average
with intelligence, yet rendering oblate spheroid garbage.
No major inconvenience incapacitates rather humdrum
bard (rarely bored), I wanna pitch headlong into scrum
no need to scream and shout, cuz I speak softly to mum
(Mother Earth) reassuring, she inevitably bests hoodlum
standing arrogant, boastful, deceitful comfortably numb
oblivious when day of reckoning delivers offal maelstrom.
Blame hardly ever helps unless it is used to express anger
it does not achieve any more than venting raging frustration
levels the playing field to a point apportioning recrimination
without actually achieving anything but turning on the tap
of seemingly futile emotions seeking for a functional cause
My lover and I were set to move on from Spain back to home
a new abode on the British Isles to work and retire for good
Sitting in a house in Valencia with boxes packed with books
memorabilia trinkets and carpets rolled up for easy transport
we simply waited for one final certificate from the authorities
Nothing fancy just a signature on paper and promised long ago
but nothing had prepared us for the legendary mañana mañana
with months of inaction inaptitude and not a thought for reason
We are working on it they said but no one seemed to care about
how much depended on the form and a long chain of consequences
Now the buyers pulled out and who can blame them as they
patiently waited such a long time and eventually merely gave up
on their dream and by proxy on our venture and own aspirations
Unpacking the moving goods will keep us busy for a short while
to make our house presentable once more and waiting to ensue
Injustice grinds its teeth at feelings and reason that do not conform
fail to find the wise mind to align their disarray and stark confusion
and so we are lost in transition that keeps on lingering for an eternity
while our souls bleed remonstrate on what ifs and other conjunctives
Lashing out at floorboards and ceilings does not deal with the grief
My grandma used to say it is what it is and advised with great caution
that one never knows what it may be good for and advised acceptance
and her problems were bigger than ours with a war raging in Europe
bombs on her head ruins devastation existential fear and an unknown
and we have each other a roof over our heads and food on our table
And yet it is difficult to be grateful when a vision for imminent future
has been shattered so crudely in its unfairness of unnecessary delay
On the bright side candles and scent sticks are unpacked as we pray
17th March 2021
Akin twin invisible presence coaxing...paranormal
Action across ouija board
herald Faustian bargain
as fingers of left hand appear to move
planchette of their own accord...
inexplicably, silently, and verily
along a barely traceable minuscule chord
dance, with some spatial force
from outer limits, perhaps dimension unexplored
twilight zone, (where spirit of Rod Serling dwells)
horizontally, linearly, and peculiarly unmoored
hashtagging, kickstarting, and zigzagging
while just barely hoovering
with maybe a hair breath of space to afford
between alien world and terrestrial
plain playing field, when oh my lord...
(this premature ejeculation from an atheist sword
like cross my heart and hope
to die a martyrs death), thee paranormal
shenanigans witness movement toward,
and away from death still participants mouths agape
with bated breath until last letter scored
which message... uh...ah...cannot be revealed
yeah...yeah...yeah...due to HIPAA laws...
...Without explanation,
there gets heard clangorous din
along with whooshes of ice cold air
brushing against my chin
analogous to some unseen
genie i.e. and/or jinn freed
from the lantern by Aladdin,
then,...how odd...
a deathlike stillness one could hear a pin
drop pervades painfully quiet
as if sound got vacuumed in
to a void of parallel universe...
...Though I don't dabble in black magic,
nor nothing linkedin with the occult,
yours truly titled poem
to "grab" attention fast as Usain Bolt,
he dashes off runners block
blinding earth shattering jolt
faster than speeding bullet,
a praiseworthy athlete
with no win tent to insult,
but merely chose his name out of thin air
(in accordance with abracadabra)
and flimsy rhyme that did result...
But, aye beg (bribe
with wealth of Midas)...please
believe me you, this rather cheese
zee poetic endeavor got
wrought eyes wide shut
(for all intents and purposes eyes closed),
where gentle force did cease
phalanges asthma southern paw
of righteous honest to dog
gone guy with pennywise
and pound foolish sixth cents sees
dead people as like miniature floaters
(in my eyes with ease)
poised and struck unbeknownst to me
computer laptop black keys!
Akin Twin Invisible Presence Coaxing...
Action across ouija board
fingers of left hand appear to move
planchette of their own accord...
inexplicably, silently, and verily
along a barely traceable minuscule chord
dance, with some spatial force
from outer limits,
perhaps a dimension unexplored
of twilight zone, (where spirit
of Rod Serling dwells)
horizontally, linearly, and peculiarly unmoored
hashtagging, kickstarting, and zigzagging
while just barely hoovering
with maybe a hair breath
of space to afford
between alien world and terrestrial
plain playing field, when oh my lord...
(this premature ejeculation
from an atheist sword
like cross my heart), thee paranormal
shenanigans witness movement toward,
and away from death still
participants mouths agape
with bated breath until last letter scored
which message... uh...ah...cannot be revealed
yeah...yeah...yeah...due to HIPAA laws...
...(Without explanation, there
gets heard a clangorous din
along with whooshes of ice cold air
brushing against my chin
analogous to some unseen
genie i.e. and/or jinn
freed from the lantern by Aladdin,
then,...how odd...a deathlike
stillness one could hear a pin
drop pervades so painfully quiet
as if...all sound got vacuumed in
to a void of parallel universe...
...Though I don't dabble in the black magic,
nor nothing linkedin with the occult,
yours truly titled his poem used to
"grab" attention fast as Usain Bolt,
he who dashes off runners block
as a blinding earth shattering jolt
faster than speeding bullet,
a praiseworthy athlete with no win tent to insult,
but merely chose his name out of thin air
(in accordance with abracadabra)
and flimsy rhyme that did result...
But..., aye...beg (bribe with
all the wealth of Midas)...please
believe me you, this rather cheese
zee poetic endeavor got
wrought with eyes wide shut
(for all intents and purposes eyes closed),
where gentle force did cease
phalanges asthma southern paw
of righteous honest to dog
gone guy with sixth cents sees
dead people as like miniature floaters
(in my eyes with ease)
poised and struck unbeknownst
computer laptop black keys!
Piercing screams slice the air
Creating a sense of joy with laughter
Coloring the moments in exhilaration
Left behind from some child’s imagination
Echoes of small feet darting and sprinting
Leaving stirrings of complete abandonment
The knowing that comes from sharing hours
Spent in breathless bliss, creating wonders
That last through the day and well into night
Stabbing at the hot sun and startling the stardust
Twinkles of a night breaking into angelic song
One little girl holds the jump rope’s end
As another child skips to the beat of its spin
Leaving another girl waiting by the oaks
Hoping to take a turn when the time is right
A small boy holds a ball and seems intent
On tossing it across the grassy field
Where so many others have played this game
Before, moving to the bases and shouting
With enthusiasm… children filled with elation
Dancing in waves of lavender and rose, azure tones
Caress the buttery sun with sincerity that comes
From knowing this is a day about to be spent swirling
Twisting and turning, spiraling out of control, thriving
In the kind, but fleeting hours that awaken gladness
And soothe the soul in seas of compassion and creativity
Discovered on the wings of fairies and friends who grow up
Together, on the playground that holds such charming memoirs
On this playing field, this playground, every soul is essential
A thought expressed by the one who knows that this world
Dances to life when their feet hasten across fresh grass
Leaving only the dreams to last beneath the melodies of dew
And sun, rain and moon, starry nights when every thought knows
The playground is where a yearning goes to find love alive inside
It is captured in the reflection of laughing eyes on every smile
From child to child – playing out the song inside their hearts!
On the playground… there is butterfly dreams and kisses
From a breeze that whispers of serenity which brings
Faithful friends together on wonderous wings of innocence
On the playground… there is pure love
Playground Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Shreya LN
June 13, 2021
I've made some mistakes but they only helped me to grow
I allowed you to see some things I didn't want to show
I was on the playing field, but now I need a new game plan
I've been a womaniser in the past but now I'm trying to become a changed man
I say I'm okay, but it doesn't show on my face
I don't talk much, until I pick up a pen and my feelings explode on the page
Going to club after club hoping that there's no one I know in the place
I'm trying to stomach my own insecurities, but then more get thrown on my plate
I've been trying to raise others up while I've been feeling low
I've got old wounds that are healing slow
I had to hold back as some people took my kindness for weakness
I'm not even a poet, I'm just rhyming my secrets
I haven't been the same since she broke my heart and left my world naked
I spent too much time only caring about getting girls naked
Life teaches us all different lessons
I should text this girl to tell her I miss her, but I have a new one sending me nudes with no commitment expected
Which is easier for me as I'm not expected to open up
She wants the same as me and doesn't care that I'm broken up
She doesn't care that there's things from my past that I still need to come to terms with
I cut some people off, and here I am, trying to walk over a burnt bridge
Most of my pain is internal
Before the smoke clears, there's still a lot of emotion for me to burn through
I'm trying to find myself but I just end up in a bigger maze
I break my own heart nightly by checking my ex girlfriend's twitter page
Love sometimes goes wrong and there's no way to make it work
I've been using multiple girls to replace the hurt
I'm working on myself and trying to become a better man and do different things
There's a lot of things I'm trying to change but I'll probably always still put hot sauce on my chicken wings
I've made a lot of mistakes, but they've helped me to grow
I'm revealing my insecurities and flaws that I thought I'd never show
I was on the playing field, but now I need a new game plan
I'm working on myself to become a changed man
Ofttimes yours truly assiduously tries to adlib,
but blubbers like a landlubber
at sea treading water donned with bib
(that doubles as yellow
spongy bobbing life jacket)
furiously doing doggy paddle
riding the next tidal wave
hoop fully washing me ashore to crib
if need be to dig an underwater channel
painstakingly slow drabs and drib.
The English language I simply adore
though offtimes methinks waxing eloquent
affects listeners as yours truly a bore
in record time flapping waxed lips
beholds one gordian
tongue tied knot major chore,
whereby I wanna bolt out figurative door
feeling deplorable and stuck
analogous to Eeyore.
Ache 'n to launch into a monologue
or chime into ongoing dialogue
me noggin off times generates brain fog
mental state mimicking one,
who quaffed an over abundance of grog,
which for this teetotaler would constitute
a mere thimble full of drink,
perhaps rum enhanced eggnog
just one sip and boing I go
topsy turvy as if a felled log
hit me over the head
rendering me unconscious.
Thus wood explain mine altered state
though unsightly gash on pate
battle scar leveled playing field
with the missus, 't other significant primate
supplementing and complementing
one aging long haired
pencil (vane ya) necked geek
being caged, yet free
to roam within human zoo
both, (née all) of us captive
on carousel of time
nsync with every other *****sapien
begot to participate in circle game.
All superfluous joking aside,
I strive to groom conversation,
whereby uninterrupted flow of words
(versus fumfering, hemming, hawing,
stammering, stuttering...), thine
general oral feedback paradigmatic guide
ever diligent to think
before I speak with pride
else I heep discourtesy
upon myself and chide
yours truly with harsh rebukes,
which maybe tantamount
going off the mountainside
plummeting into the abyss
engenders an unpleasant
metaphoric roller coaster ride,
and if crash test dummy doth survive -
upon gibbet he will be tried
punishment broadcast world wide
for flagrant horrendous verbal
egregiousness (waywardness) he belied.
in a moment that gave her a semblance of clarity
my Mom expressed without a shadow of doubt
at long last I am allowed to do and say as I want
it had been a very unhappy marriage
she had felt dominated and oppressed
but played her part in wilful collusion
dementia had robbed her off a functioning body
her mind was not even now a beautiful place
which it might have been had she made it to be
maybe the war was to blame for despair
the convention of until death do us part
partnership on an unequal playing field
I will throw myself into the cold river to perish
but before I drown I will stab you with a dagger
into your heart and draw blood and just retribution
darling remember that you are a champion
of swimming and therefore you will float
but it haunted Dad until his natural passing
why does she turn a knife in my soul to hurt me
have I not looked after her and gave her my love
there never was an ill-fated weight in our union
it is not your wife speaking but the illness
but he would not let go and therefore I told
of her sadness misery and utter dejection
how do you know she never said a single word of it
because she confided in me ever since I was a child
hid behind my rebellion and consulted me for support
I never knew whether it was the right thing
to speak because I don’t and he is now gone
maybe I owed it to Mom and he thanked me
looking back in sadness about her never having a voice
me the sounding board for her agony and contempt
I am not sure who suffered most from the switchblade
but self-laceration was never far from her skin
of course there have been happier memories
but I cannot brush over the darkness and anger
I love you with all my soul innocence and wisdom of age
ingested your love and felt comfort kindness compassion
but the pure thrust of a skean left an unforgettable mark
28th March 2021
Mother Poetry Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
Sandy stole my words.
Desolation and despair
triumphed
attempts at descriptive
narrative
paled in comparison
to the cold, desolate reality left
behind.
Humvees and police cars patrol
debris clogged streets.
Red and blue emergency lights
strafe empty lots where homes
once stood.
Houses ripped apart,
tilted, torn, gravity defying
structures,
now open vistas to the ocean,
calm today
that last night roared through
and leveled homes
and the playing field between
the haves and have nots.
How can water wreak havoc of
this magnitude.
Unprecedented wave heights
on top of swells
went where they would,
unbridled, uncaring natural
force,
mother nature raging, roaring
not in spite
but because she could,
ran amok
reminding us of her majesty,
her power
and the fact that
there but for the grace of God
we have been privileged to
live.
I can't be mad at the ocean.
It is my life blood.
It courses through my veins,
grounds me, embraces me
unconditionally.
Dark, grey afternoons settle on
our town.
Houses dark since she hit
sit waiting for owners to make
the next move.
Restore the shore
to what?
Glory days of yesteryear
surface in isolated pockets,
quickly erased by scars that
will never heal.
Open wounds on a landscape
trapped
write it off as a once in a
lifetime event
or is Sandy the new norm.
There is a zombie like feeling
waiting in the wings.
Vacant stares, shaking heads
prevail.
Unrestrained optimism battles
resignation.
Fool me once and it's on me,
fool me twice, what then.
This is my home, a living
dream personified.
Sleeping, waking, walking,
loving living exactly where I
dared to dream about so many
years ago.
Time is not healing.
Each passing day another
storm related issue.
Another family lost everything.
Everything.
How do you get your arms
around that.
Where do these people go,
How do you rebuild what was
such a personal extension of
your family history.