Long Sidestepped Poems
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He stood upon the parapet
Tittering on the ledge
Giggling to himself
And shuffling closer to the edge
For seven storeys down below
His wife and lover stood
He knew what they were up to
And it surely wasn’t good
Chuckling to himself, and
Moving slowly to the verge
The anger burning deeply, and
It fired a deadly urge
Laughing like a loony
Leaping headlong from his roost
Madly flapping arms to give
His fall an added boost
“Your smiling now you rotten cow
You won’t find this so funny
I’d rather die than let you try
To get hold of my money”
Half way down toward the ground
His progress slowly halted
That crazy grin turned awful thin
He thought his plan was thwarted
His braces caught the flag pole
And it hindered his descent
He hovered for a moment
And then flying up he went
Bouncing up and bouncing down
Till finally it stopped
He smiled a rueful smile, and then
His trouser buttons popped
Continuing his journey
As he hurtled earthward bound
His wife and lover sidestepped
And he crashed into the ground
Laughing like a drain he seemed
To find it awfully funny
Though nearly dead he turned and said
“I really missed you honey”
Form:
When the truth gets sidestepped
to satisfy Hope...
it’s a sad lesson in life.
Not giving my feelings free rein,
I've opened myself to vulnerability.
And on hearing my heart cry out
struggling under the weight of despair
I was moved to tears.
My life is a never-ending story
of how love was found,
only to be lost.
For the reality I clung to so dear
was a dream, from which I've awakened.
Tears don't harbor hidden rainbows:
only sadness marks their release.
And pain surrounds doubtful decisions,
yet Hope still urges me forward,
despite my anguish.
One dream.
One heart.
One soul.
Words that once defined who I was
are snagged on the jagged edges of my broken heart.
And a flood of hurt morphs into tears,
as I mourn a love lost to time.
He entered the dark house
through the unlocked kitchen door,
his house until the separation,
found his way
down the dark hallway
to the bedroom,
hid in the closet,
the door slightly open to
a clear view of the room
in the half-light of a full moon.
Sweaty clothes piled
on the closet floor
didn’t matter;
he had other business.
He settled in
for a long wait,
almost nodding off,
staying awake
by rocking toe to heel
in his Redwing boots,
left arm cramped
from gripping his gun.
He could have laid it on the floor,
but he might not have been
able to find it in the dark,
so he held it,
and waited.
Soon enough.
there was laughter
in the kitchen,
metallic sounds of ice
dropped into glasses,
ardent whispers growing louder
as they moved to the bedroom,
dancing a bit,
arms around each other.
She turned on the bedside lamp.
Red removed her blouse;
she unbuttoned his shirt,
let it fall to the floor.
He kicked the closet door open,
stepped into the room,
raised his gun and shouted,
“It’s my turn to dance.”
Red turned...
Two bullets pierced his chest.
He fell backwards onto the bed,
rolled off to the floor,
didn’t move again.
The shooter stood quietly,
relieved and satisfied,
watching his wife
kneel beside Red’s body.
He sidestepped them,
switched off the light
at the open door,
turned to look back,
said to himself,
“That’s done...
I need a drink.”
The murder was ruled justifiable homicide.
He was set free.
That’s the law down here in Texas.
The applicable Texas law was written in 1856, and stated that, “Homicide is justifiable when committed by the husband on anyone taken in the act of adultery with the wife, provided that the killing takes place before the parties to the act of adultery have separated.” Texas law considered these murders justifiable homicide, and completely excused the killing. The law was repealed in 1973.
Paraphrased from “Law in Western United States,”
by Gordon Morris Bakken
The mighty steed was black as night.. (Cobolt was his name)
His rider, Blade, a Warrior Knight
Swiftly through the dark forest he rode
A realm he ruled with an iron code
He was in search of his magical blue amulet
Stolen he believed by a raven.. his enemy's evil pet
Blade was aided in his search by his gray owl
Who flew night and day as for the raven he prowled
His enemy, Prince Zoxi, waited at the forest edge
To kill Blade he had made a solemn pledge
As Blade neared the end of the forest
He drew his sword , which glowed with a fiery zest
The two warriors met at the break of dawn
A fight to the death now began
The battle raged through the early morn
The swords echoed with each clang
Deftly,.. Blade sidestepped a thrust.. and his fiery sword found its mark
Prince Zoxi fell to the ground
The Warrior Knight of the forest dark
had inflicted the fatal wound
He ripped his amulet from Zoxi's neck
And on his mighty steed he made his trek
To his dark forest haven
And his gray owl overhead, and in his talons, the evil raven
The caw of the raven was heard no more
And over the dark forest the gray owl soars
A new enemy from the west, Bomani,.. The mountain warrior, drew near
He shudders when the thunder of the mighty steed he hears
And riding boldly to meet him as with speed his mighty steed explodes
Is.. BLADE.. The Warrior Knight of dark abode
A private party I did throw for dignitary friends
I served wieners in a can with little toothpick jabs
It was Victor who did name me, inside his little lab
calling me his Frankenstein, as the name portends
When I sidestepped to and fro with a shuffle shoe
they roared like Leaders running out of hoo ba loo
they talked in circles rings and peels, "legal Time"
clawing at their mixes like greedy Serpentines
I joined the navy suits with ties as straight as God
self contained in secret, they never knew my crime
they called me awful names, a horrid selfish clod
but when my mask came off, all they did was nod
One by one I wooed them, with my monster talk
vigilant and bright at the caucus party romp
syrupy and cool with a gait upon my walk
I devoured everyone, including Donald Trump.
August 21, 2021
He captured childhood, never let it go,
Sidestepped the potholes of “growing up”
Never forgot that ice cream is better when shared
Popsicles meant to be broken in two
Throwing stones in the pond an avocation
Skipping them….an art
He still slurps his soup as taste has consequences
Milk moustaches, especially chocolate, an art form
He still wipes his hands on his pants
Will pet a wet dog, tell “that” joke again
Wear that favorite frayed flannel
Flirt with the cashier at the super market
He will make fun of everything and everyone
And sometimes keep it to himself
More often though he leaves them shaking their heads
Wondering…”when will he ever grow up”
He knows, that they know, the answer
Probably never…if we’re lucky
I was driving to work on Monday morn
when behind me I heard a honking horn
A guy's middle finger taunted with scorn,
and that's the moment my road rage was born.
Normally, I'd smile and give him a wave
like I hadn't seen the finger he gave,
but this dude continued to misbehave
and almost rammed me. It was a close shave!
Traffic was slow. There must've been a wreck.
We were barely moving along this trek,
as his face turned red, then so did his neck,
but I didn't cause it, so what the heck?
Then every lane came to a complete stop.
He screamed at me on the highway black top.
I opened my door to jab him a pop...
a Mr. Miyagi karate chop!
He lunged at me, with breath smelling of brew
so, I sidestepped boozy punches he threw.
Can't fight a drunk although I came close to
when he gestured again, yelling, "Screw you!!!"
High-heeled Ferris wheel riders,
cackling as if their tails were afire.
Red mouths agape, screeching at stars
round and round spinning to black.
Rouged rough riders finally seduced,
stumbling from buckets into the sequined night...
Bargain beer freely flowing
cut-offs and halter tops glowing.
Everyone's tongue becoming a knife in a sideshow...
The tacky and raspy crooked floor games.
Strong man lifting balloons above a puffy sad face,
Nothing is classy but the two-headed snake.
Between the dill pickled fog and vanilla milkshakes
the Ferris wheel suddenly stopped.
They sidestepped the giggling turnstile
and slept it off on the L train.
Rumi Quotes
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Contest Judged: 10/29/2025 1:40:00 PM
( 3rd Place )
Written: October 1, 2025
Rumi's Quote Inspired:
--"the wound is the place where the light enters you"--
I lugged silence like a stone
tucked away from all sight.
Pain etched itself into my days
and left footprints...
I could no longer claim.
Then a sliver of morning
crept into the narrow crack
inside me.
Soft as a whisper
warm as returning rain.
The mark I buried deep.
The emptiness I sidestepped…
became a threshold.
From the opening, light flowed,
calm, healing;
not to strike
but to illuminate and repair.
Its presence sank into my bones
flowing where sorrow had settled.
Turning every scar into a map
of where I had been
and where I could go.
Now I keep my chest open,
not to protect, not to perform.
But for the quiet truth
that what breaks us…
also makes room
for what saves us.
Imagine the first tree on Mars
spindly and gnarly,
but its presence begs recognition.
The life force it took to plant that first tree
bears witness to the emotions
people bested, and the sacrifices suffered
for its growth and protection.
That first tree would symbolize the world
in harmony of purpose,
overcoming a fractured past
and generations of descent.
That tree would justify our hopes
for we could relate with it.
Man's an accomplished wordsmith
forging promises from empty words
strung out haphazardly,
intentionally confusing, and abstract.
The weight of all their lies cripples countries,
so they defer the enhancement of humanity.
But tomorrow has arrived,
and our children want us to plant that first tree.
Man's dreams will not be ignored,
though they often get sidestepped.
And yet, that first Martian tree
will need the whole world to care for it.
We either get past our differences,
or there may never be a tree on Mars.
(Free Verse)
01/31/2020