Long Relax Poems
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The final leg of this journey…the last 50 miles that remained
took us from the city Bangor to the town of Corea, Maine.
On the way we stopped at Pat’s for pizza and Helen’s for blueberry pie…
(our first two stops today along the road)
where the pizza was delicious…and the pie was a-la-mode.
As always we stopped so Deborah could take pictures…
(one her favorite times of day is dawn).
We even paused at an old barn where there was an art show going on.
We lingered there a while…because some of these artists really rock!
but what kept us there the longest is how New Englanders love to talk.
Everyone we met was happy to talk about their vacations
once they heard about ours.
Why I even had a conversation with man who parked the cars.
After all our stopping to eat…to take pictures, to visit…to see the sights
we reached our cottage in Corea…where we’ll spend the next 4 nights.
This is the 26th different place we’ve stayed…with 26 different hosts…
and we thought what better way to end our trip
than in a fishing village on the coast.
When one of the ladies in the Art Barn heard we were going to Corea
she told us to be forewarned…
She said the legend is that Corea is the place where fog is born.
And sure enough as our last stay in an Air B & B was about to begin
once we entered Corea…the fog was rolling in
So it seems we’ll have 4 nights to enjoy the fog…
4 nights to relax…
4 nights to be lost in thought..
4 nights to sit back and try to remember parts of this trip
at our age…we’ve already forgot.
Hello, cucarachas, whether large or small;
I can't stand the ones that fly or the ones that crawl.
I've got a place for you to spend your days and nights:
You don't need to win this trip on "The Price is Right".
Fill up your cars with gas and prepare to drive
6,000 miles of road before the clock strikes five.
Make your reservations quick and book your lovely rooms;
Little do they realize, they just sealed their doom.
Welcome to Hotel Cucaracha;
It's a lovely place where we crush your face.
Relax at Hotel Cucaracha;
Time to say, "Good-bye!" You're about to die!
The cucarachas came, but they were unaware
Of that repugnant odor, a funky stench in the air.
Then they heard a hissing sound and were sorely afraid;
These bugs fell to the ground 'cause they were sprayed with Raid.
No more cucarachas or their lousy riff-raff;
I threw them in the garbage and did my "Thriller" laugh.
Let this be a lesson, and you better take heed:
You can check in anytime you want, but you will never leave!
(Cue "Thriller" laugh)
The alarm blasts me awake
From a fitful night’s sleep,
Another day of bills to pay
And promises to keep.
Dropping Patanol in my eyes
As I attempt to slowly rise,
Feeling disparate deja vus
As my morning coffee brews.
And I make a mental note
To try and get more sleep
Then just as quickly forget
As I leave the room to eat.
Sitting at the breakfast table
Where I find that I am able,
To spend a few, quick minutes,
And rummage through the obits.
Is there someone I know?
And then right before I go,
Count how many are my age
Before I put down the page.
And I make a mental note
To eat less and workout more
Then just as quickly forget
As I rush out the door.
I arrive at my job.
Turn my office doorknob,
Begin my daily routine
Taking breaks in between.
And my boss storms in mad
Says “You did something bad!”
And I make a mental note
To do better next time
Then just as quickly forget
When I leave at closing time.
Returning home feeling famished
I notice some damage
To the roof and the doors
And the siding and floors.
And the gutters are hanging
And the shutters are banging.
And I make a mental note
To make time for repairs.
Then just as quickly forget
As I climb the porch stairs.
I finally make it inside
And after eating decide
To relax in the den
Before my favorite show begins
Then I notice God’s Word
On the table undisturbed.
And I make a mental note
To take time to read God’s Word. . .
Hey, wait! I can do this now!
So, I open up God’s Word
“faith follows the thing heard”
And I understand the hope
That allows us all to cope
And I make a mental note
To read, meditate and pray.
The Holy Bible gives us courage
So we can face another day!
“Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence.” — Robert Fripp
“If one does not dance blind, one will fail to see what they feel and without feel, no dance is real. Professional dancers work hard to ensure their thinking is concealed.” --- Poet
To dance, leave the world behind.
To breathe and sway, step away from
descriptions of boy’s and girl’s
dancing roles as overly written.
Enter dimensions where soul senses unfurl.
Be rid of the five senses,
use moves heaven dispenses.
Our souls cry for brains to lose control,
to relax stance and uninhibitedly dance. Thinking
is bound to be caught by a thought that is not dance sought.
Those who rely on only their body’s reply may better dance than
those whose eyes surmise,
ears hear fears,
feel is not real,
nose is posed and/or
taste may abase.
Vibrations fuel the blood, elations pump the heart,
muscles forget where they begin and if they stop.
Jubilance sets a rhythm where no notes are given heed.
Sensations seed the body with an intoxicating feed ~ ~
Arms are floating, flying, winged-
completely marveling
Legs are fluid -
their confidence undisputed;
Bodies are carefree -
completely lost in melody;
Heads and necks feel nimble -
exceptionally kindled;
Feet are agile -
moves uniquely styled.
When one desires to dance,
they must aspire to move
without an earthly stance.
For some the beginning.
For some it's the end.
For many; days just merging
Into the blend.
But the concept of Friday
Is simply this;
It's the end of the work-week
Sealed with a kiss.
It's assurance of respite.
It's that glorious space
Loaded with promise.
It's the end of the race.
That comfiest armchair
Those slippers so snug.
It's like greeting a friend
With a lingering hug.
Is it really enough
If it's one out of seven?
Or should we be seeking
A little more heaven?
I think as I drive
Through the Autumnal streets
That all days are precious
And while life repeats..
Relax and enjoy them
Wherever you are..
For loving the journey
Will help take you far.
So Fridays, we love you,
To the end and the start.
And thank you for helping me
Reset my heart.
Help me, I’m hopeless
Again, I’m feeling distress
You won’t knock me down
By your frown…your frown…
Help me, I’m helpless
Again, I’m feeling like a mess
You don’t need to hurt me so
By your ways of woe…woe…
Stream of tears roll down, down
My eyes…my eyes…I cry aloud
I shake and shake up in this town
Stream of hopes and fears seep through the crowd
Crawling inside my cranium
Is this feeling of numb
Crawling inside my cranium
Is this feeling of dumb
Stream of desires, graces and glories is my cup of rum
Help me, I’m making less progress
Again, I’m feeling too much stress
You won’t drag me down once more
You won’t allow me not to soar by feeling sore
Help me, I’m helpless
Again, I’m feeling like a mess
You don’t need to hurt me so
By your ways of woe…woe…
Stream of tears roll down, down
My eyes…my eyes…I cry aloud
I shake and shake up in this town
Stream of hopes and fears seep through the crowd
Crawling inside my cranium
Is this feeling of numb
Crawling inside my cranium
Is this feeling of dumb
Stream of desires, graces and glories is my cup of rum
You need to relax and be with me, be with me
We melt like wax in the sun of vivacious vanity
It’s a gift or a curse that you’re safe and sound
It’s a miracle or a tragedy in reverse to feel gravity-bound
Help me, I’m feeling too much emotion
Due to the many people and noise around me
I can’t stand the constant commotion
Dealing with feelings that are profound frankly
Help me, I’m helpless
Again, I’m feeling like a mess
You don’t need to hurt me so
By your ways of woe…woe…
Stream of tears roll down, down
My eyes…my eyes…I cry aloud
I shake and shake up in this town
Stream of hopes and fears seep through the crowd
Crawling inside my cranium
Is this feeling of numb
Crawling inside my cranium
Is this feeling of dumb
Stream of desires, graces and glories is my cup of rum
Nostalgic night is barreling in my noggin
I’m taming this fire of desire from within
Feelings of pure calm is worn like lip balm
Upon my ever-shaking, yet gently soft palm
The beeper sounded, the heart beat stopped - we all knew what to do
Automatic reactions come into place - when life saving's down to you
Adrenaline now, and check his oxygen, we don’t want to damage his brain
Get the paddles charged quickly, we may be needing them again
A flicker, a trace, the heats starts to beat
A pat on the shoulder a whispered “Well done again death we did cheat”
I smile at the face belonging - to the hand congratulating me
A glow of light shining in his eyes, that are looking but don't see.
A smile content, a smile unknown - I did not know his name
The beepers flashed the monitor flat lined, here we go again.
Defibrillation I yell, make it quick - what’s his pressure now?
The comforting man beside me proceeded to mop my brow.
He said “Stop and think and remember, you really must stay calm”
Only three times defibrillation- rushed decisions can do more harm.
I nodded in agreement, but who did he think he was to tell me
I would have words with him after this, then who’s in charge he would see.
He whispered “Amiodarone” I looked at him- his manner confident
The comfort in his eyes - my temper did relent.
I administered the Amiodarone, his beat settled - I could relax a little bit
I would not have this assistant though implying - I might be losing it.
“Stitch him up I am done, how are his vital signs?”
I turned to the man to question, his aim which was me to undermine.
The man with the light in his eyes was gone, I wanted to know where
The surgical team looked at me with a look close to despair.
I looked at my patient on the table to reassure myself he was good
I recognised his comforting face - I never thought I would.
The man with the light in his eyes was lying with tubes all over
I checked his notes and felt very strange on turning the first page over.
The man was a Doctor, a Cardiologist who nearly died upon my table
But this was the man that reminded me- to remain calm if I was able.
I felt faint I did not know what to do this man had died twice in front of me
How could he have been beside me, but then no one else did see?
~ Autumn Has Come ~
( Rick's 32 )
~O~
Autumn's come
Weather is cool
Trees change hues
Gold, browns, copper, greens, reds
Trees start losing their leaves
Leaves then fall
Sometimes they soar
In the wind
Autumn's fun
Great Holidays
Pumpkins, masks
Adults, kids, have great time
Halloween's a fun night
Treat or trick
Then celebrate
Thanksgiving
Yes, autumn's
At last is here
I'm happy
No more sweat, hot weather
Relax, eat piece of pie
Have good time
With family
And Thank God
For all friends
For everything
Autumn's come
Is a time of Thanksgiving
To look back and Give Grace
Summer's gone
But be glad that
Autumn's come.
~O~
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010
November.26.2019
-“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain -
~Author's Notes:
' The Ricks' 32 ' is a poetry style created by Erich J. Goller (Vienna) in 2008.
See this young lovely chick
That set out man's raging prick
Not ready to use her lips
Get to lose his golden zip
Without the damsel on bed
His dream eyes go red
And if he is to confess
He wanna make you a mistress
But she do think of herself a wife
Who won't on him use a knife
He wish they could together toast the time
Young and do home to the prime
Giving her to the core
Like Oliver will always want more
Is like her dad's name is Oliver
Cos he wants them to roll over
Ah! that's really bad
Hmm! daughter fears dad
May be the world of love is unpredictable
Or her dad, he is unapproachable
Then he should be a dad-like terrorist
Chill! He is an undisclosed activist
He is currently advocating for both
Like a shameless CUSS without an oath
Through white and blue
She got that's true
Relax to free her mind
Logics won't place you behind
Go for the challenge, dear single
Fear not thy hearty best, so mingle
And put stop to this is good a man
What if he isn't human.
Also to this is outstanding a lady
What if she is shady
Gladly, be open
Not to be reopen
Get this into your head
Exposure is always ahead
Before you have someone to come home to
You need to bypass possible rue
Such that someone to go home with
Must have played you with such a scythe
Happy international day of peace!
But never take this a tease...
Should I write a poem about Halloween,
full of psychological horrors and gruesome things?
Like deep romantic wounds getting infected,
herpe kisses or Donald Trump getting elected?
I could lean on shuddery tropes, like haunted houses
or more real world threats, like cutthroat spouses.
I could make you look up scary looking words, like Syncretism.
gasp What caused that creek in the floor?!
Who’s that banging on the door?
Is that blood on that rag?
Is there a body in that bag?
Is that your husband in drag!?
Relax, have fun, chill-out,
Oh, better get a bowl of candy out.
Happy Halloween!
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Songs for this:
Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt-Kickers
I Killed You by Tyler, The Creator
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*Merriam Webster: Syncretism: combining different forms of belief