Long Ritzy Poems
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Written: November 22, 2024 For Contest, Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
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Line of inquiry:
“on an as is where is basis we choose
descent of consciousness into the gross
then we rise again following heart’s muse
higher than where stood, bearing love’s cross”
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Through the daily cycles of life, we tread.
Nectar drips from branches wide and tall
An elixir for the heart, as darkness spread.
In specked light where mumbled tales are told.
We gulp the liquid sun between the trees.
Each drop depicts a swirl of the spin of time.
Each breath yields a pulse to rile the breeze.
We widen our limbs and chase the wild rhyme.
Stand up in awe, and let the chimes ring.
To ascend the peak where owls flight.
Several paths converge on a hazy swing.
Walk across fields where gloom turns to light.
In folds of golden dreams and greens, clean.
The ground and sky meet in a striking ballet.
Our spirit drawings sprang out of the scene.
Transmuting hardships into brighter days.
These stones indicate the path of the trip.
Love's sturdy hand pushed back a wall of fear.
Our inner strength improves with each wisp
Ascend together, emotions ready to appear.
The obstacles we confront ebb and flow.
But, in face of adversity, spirit starts to rise.
Each setback carries an insight veiled in a glow.
Binding affection across space and ritzy size.
Thus let us tackle our path with wide eyes.
For every challenge, find an audible prayer.
The ascent appeals to us from under the skies.
Where greater consciousness seeks our care.
As light and shade mingle in obedient dance.
Our existence, as a stream, turns and flows.
Relishing each moment and grabbing a chance.
Our lives come together through many shows.
In this way, love leads us to come clean
Here on this looping road, we are home
We ascend as one, and no one is obscene.
On our trips, we are often itching to roam.
We grasp shadows flow over magenta light
in the crystal trails of tourmaline
yes, both of us will leave.
to the celestial abeyance of pasty white
neon embers in starburst trim
for now, I'll stoop and write.
Let's have a nap beneath the towering redwoods
we'll watch "forgets" fly with natural hammering
together, let's find out how to solve the mystery
lyrical hues in lustrous iridescence.
We just shrug our shoulders and cheerfully
understand our linked introspection
here, in the peaks, where the sun shines
let's soar with the creative spirit of life.
Blew away the flushed, blushing bliss
on her whispering wings
white fog rolls out onto the calm ocean
which gathers the incoming stillness
a phosphorescent steeple is adorned.
Strolling the fog-covered hills, gazing at the bay
let us sip moonbeams from the blazing lighthouse
sunlight swirled exotic zaffre mist in a ritzy haze
enjoying the warmth and the water shimmer
resting comfortably in a lovely night-line
Damselflies rose to the lush sky's eerie sighs
A hazy veil curves across huge terrains.
sunlight sparkles on the winding river
comfortable, long-drifting
to the whispering rouge
of a nuptial serenade
only time matters.
"There is time," she whispers
There will be plenty of time
Written: December 28, 2022
A Freed Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
PARK AVENUE
I came across Park Avenue in Winter Park, Florida
many years ago, where I flew for my work to examine
a company for following its claims handling process,
procedures and the insurance laws and regulations.
While having lunch near the office, seated outside
in one of the pricey eateries, we noticed this is a
place of great affluence, for the ones with money.
Probably from the north to the south of the Avenue.
We noticed mothers dressed in designers clothes,
carrying designer handbags, strolling their infants
in expensive strollers while going in and out of
high-end boutiques, looking, browsing or buying.
We saw middle-aged women dressed elegantly,
bejeweled with their big designer sunglasses
having sumptuous lunch with their friends in
luxurious cafes, showing off their jewelries.
We decided to roam the Avenue from north to
south one day after work to check it out, go to
the Museum opened in the evening that day,
dine and see a belly dance in a fancy restaurant.
We saw trust fund babies having happy hour,
hanging out or checking out posh boutiques.
Well-dressed men having business meetings
in ritzy restaurants, having cocktails or dinner.
Women wearing couture dresses, attires or
suits admiring the exhibits in the museum.
Well-off families or affluent couples dining and
watching the belly dancer, where we had dinner.
If I want to live in fantasy, this is the place to be.
If I want to forget all my troubles, forget all my
cares, I will imagine this place, a place where
you do not see poverty, homeless, destitute.
Life can be a beach or a beef and when something
turns a little bit beefy, this avenue is the place to
think about for life is pretty beachy in this avenue.
Imagining myself doing what ritzy people love to do.
9/9/21 The Avenue Poetry
Julia Ward
In this arid plain of perennial drought,
as I stand transfixed with vexations rising in my spirit
and sadness lying mute as a stone,
I discern, I am alone with none to hold my hand
or share the burden that weighs me down.
Trudging through rugged paths
with my mournful shadow, tottering along,
the past sneers at me, breaking open
bottled up memories- of years spent in unbridled passion,
the smell of cigarettes, ganja and beer
wine and women, bet and gambling,
and the thrill of having won and lost
I used narcotic drugs many and they kept
gnawing into my psyche!
Once I walked with stilted gait
with friends and fans, amid laughter and haste
eager to please and to praise
Inebriated and effervescent were we
Fancied money could buy all we yearned
and turn this Earth-a virtual Paradise
But how swift was the twist of fate!
With no condiments, life suddenly turned bland.
The gorgeous castles I once built, burnt down to cinders
like dry leaves blown by the wind,
Friends, I thought never would desert,
flitted away one by one!
With dejection and despair warping me down
a rabid dog I strayed.
Grew irritable and vicious,
fled away from bond and bondage
spitting the saliva of my angst,I barked… barked at everyone;
“Where did vanish all the fabulous dreams
Whither gone life’s ritzy splendors?
But the wildfire burnt itself down,
now a passive stillness has settled in.
In this inert hush, as I grope,through murky corridors
with the sound of my footsteps falling like a thud,
a single query breaks out from within
‘Where shall I hide unseen
from this horrid loneliness staring me in the eyes?’
You used to have power over me
You used to have power over me
Seeing your face pleased
Was all that'd let my mind be
Jobs and relationships once so consistent
Loyalty and honesty have floated into the distance
Is it just aging
Doesn't seem like the world should be changing
In this direction
Droughts of affection with floods of computation
Robocop evaluates your ritzy neighborhood
Gangsters regain their territory in the hood
Always thought by now life would be a dream
World is a pair of pants ripping apart at the seams
Looking into a politicians eye
There's just a blood splattered lie
Why on earth should I vote
I'll just shop elsewhere and let your funding company die
I understand I look young,
You have no idea what I've done
Talk to me like an adult
Those gestures and expressions are an insult
Just because I have no child
Doesn't make my emotions mild
Doesn't mean I don't have problems
I don't whine, I find ways to solve them
Don't assume because I don't have a degree
That I'm not a pedigree
A degree means you can follow rules and deadlines
You can use a crayola and stay within the lines
Tap your head...
Think for a second
All this money later
Is this the best way to thank your creator?
To get a job for a major company
That sooner than later will dump you and destroy
Your dreams and want you to change your values
Where work is more important than family?
Not exactly!
Your doubt in me is coming out of your pours.
Flush your ego, Try to jump that hurdle of yours
Oh wait, need a book?
Flip to page nine
Tells you you've kicked your own behind
Welcome to Itsy Bitsy Pitsy Ritzy Chitzy planet.
Where the west is run by faeries and elves.
The east is run by those-who-shall-not-be-named.
That’s where crocodiles and sharks live, so stay out of that place!
I slather myself most of the time pretty much to middle earth.
The only danger here is the Voracious Victorious Volcano.
Because it dispenses hot pink lava at noon, daily.
No problem to me. That is when I swim with dolphins.
The dolphin swimming is done for free.
No one spots you, but the whales keep you safe.
They are there too. Blue Dad and Red Mom.
They are not bossy, but make sure everyone stays alive.
Welcome to Itsy Bitsy Pitsy Ritzy Chitzy planet,
There are too many new creatures to speak of.
They are being birthed daily, so here are some guide books.
Come back in an hour, and get new ones. That’s how fast we update.
We are not sure why this planet has constant new species.
The faeries and the giants might have something to do with it.
Here is a Wiccan; she could probably enlighten us too.
Except, I am a bit fearful. She transmogrified me into an elf once.
I nod to her, but she does not see me. She is a bit “off”.
Which is saying a lot because we are all “off” – it is how we got here.
Others do not come to visit, even our amusement park.
Flying pigs are in charge of the funnel cakes. They are marvelous.
Welcome to Itsy Bitsy Pitsy Ritzy Chitzy planet,
A place where misfits are welcome.
Watch out! Someone just got thrown from an airplane.
We do not die here; we are immortal. Another perk.
Who do you want me to be?
Do you want my personality to flee?
Who is acceptable to you?
Apparently only a select few.
How about a rich superstar,
who will sweep you off your feet from a far.
Well than that is who I'll be
the next time you see me.
Who do you want me to be?
You want me to change what you see?
I'll change what I wear, then cut my hair,
because in public, you don't want people to stare.
I'll work out seven days a week,
because you want my body to be at it's peak.
Well than that is who I'll be
the next time you see me.
Who do you want me to be?
I'm not perfect, with that you strongly agree.
Why don't you tell me, I promise you won't offend,
I say this because all of you are my friends.
You want me to be a little more smart,
well then tomorrow, college I will start.
Well than that is who I'll be
the next you see me.
Who do you want me to be?
For you I'll change everything you see.
In my wardrobe, I'll change from my hat to shoes,
then I'll sell my house and move to the more ritzy avenues.
If you want me to I'll get lipo,
We all know to be perfect it can't show.
Well that is who I'll be
the next time you see me.
Who do you want me to be?
A prisoner or person who isn't free.
I know my lifestyle depends,
on whom I call my friends.
But none of you are my friends you see,
my friends would just let me be me.
Maybe I'll change one thing, here is a clue,
I'll get new friends, that won't include you.
That is who I'll always be,
every time you see me.
Came and left
I shouldn’t have even woken up
I would have been happier if I had just slept
Sentimental is what I am
You should know that, do you even give a damn?
It wasn’t all ritzy but I thought you’d like it
It wasn’t something that you said you wanted so what did I do? Buy it.
Went through a lot of trouble framing that picture we took when vacationing
abroad
Just so you could remember how happy we once were
But check this out
You know I’m pissed right
Spoiled I don’t think so
Ungrateful don’t go there
I had the v-day thing on lock
Cards and kisses in your honor
Even picked a nice dinner spot
I told you Innuendously exactly what I wanted
It wasn’t out of your reach
I figured I’d help you out a little and the rest would be a treat
I don’t care if you paid for dinner, you always do
I don’t care if we went to the movies ain’t nothing new
See I asked of you something very small
It wasn’t brain surgery at all
Keep in mind any other man would die to be in your place
So you need go get it together and step up to the plate
I didn’t even get a card you know like the one I gave you
The one that I sifted endlessly through millions just to find one that was close to
true
You know what, thank you
Thank you anyway
But next time (if there is one) don’t expect me to go out of my way
Not saying it’s worthless but what’s the point
put it this way next time it will be your turn to find out why I’m writing this joint
Form:
I have her nineteen fifties' Trifari
fine costume jewelry, which I hold dear,
since my sweet mom bequeathed it all to me;
when worn or touched, I feel her presence near.
The ritzy, sparkling rhinestone matching sets
showcased in satin-lined, faux leather case,
were treasured as high fashion; no regrets
when given as a gift of style and grace.
And too, are pearls embedded in bright gold
with settings of such intricate design.
I love to look at them, to fondle, hold
these precious pieces treasured now as mine.
I wear my mother's gems from time to time
and feel her basking in the lovely glow
that once adorned her beauty in its prime
and graced her loveliness in stylish show.
So I devotedly take tender care
of these Trifari gifts passed on to me;
her treasures shine with special love we share,
safeguarded through her cherished jewelry.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Old Jewelry or Just Old Things
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 11/06/2016
Since the1920s, Trifari has been one of the most respected and admired producers of costume jewelry in the United States. Founded in the1910s by Gustavo Trifari, the Italian-immigrant son of a Napoli goldsmith, the company has designed jewelry that’s been worn by countless high-profile clients, from Mamie Eisenhower to Madonna. Trifari costume jewelry is highly collectible today.
Ghetto tabernacles congregate
to hear the sons of Eli preachers beg and holla
Saying to the colorful captive audience:
they gonna get their piece of the pie in the by and by
It’s waiting in the oven ... baking in the sky,
and they will get their slice when they die
But as for the here and now,
the plastic preachers plead:
You poor souls gotta dig in your pockets,
out of your famine need
You must give til your wallets and purses bleed,
let your prayers show some real pain
Shout loud to the ritzy preachers,
whose flock live uptown
Render supplications to their starry cloth God,
whose wearing a tri-color striped suit
Listen to the high place shepherds say:
you ghetto sheep got nothing to lose
So shut up ... get fleeced,
and sing the money blues
Cash register ring:
Cha-ching ... cha-ching
*$*$*$
Soul sorry sing:
Slave quarters and plastic dollars;
living in the poor projects,
only got enough to get by
Preachers beg and tongue holla;
donate your welfare checks,
buy a piece of the air pie
Beware of those backward collars
always asking
for the silver coins and green dollars
Telling you
you’re gonna get your turn at the spigot
Selling you
a bunch of malarkey by a secular bigot
Slave quarters and plastic dollars,
just the same ole same old
Preachers beg and politicians holla;
the smart play: truth poured cold ...
put your pocket money back on fold