Long Sleepy eyed Poems
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They came from all over - Manchester, Derby
and. Connemara - icons, O'Toole, Bates and Finney,
who would believe the power of future stars,
although they spent their time fighting in bars.
RADA was a dream, a long way from country,
Reed and Marvin muscled in with Shaw and Connery,
Caine gave a sleepy-eyed look for mystery,
while Mitchum was instructed in English history.
Imagine King Henry sending 'Alfie' to the tower,
whilst Connery, Reed and Bates began to cower,
although the former pair wrestled in front of a fire,
If you didn't enjoy 'Women In Love,' you were a liar.
When Reed had his nose in a variety of *****,
O'Toole was enthralling us as Lawrence of Arabia.
She stirs.
The alarm buzzed loudly fifteen minutes ago
she simply turned it off, sleepy eyed and slow.
Suddenly the covers flip back
and i am on the floor quickly sacked.
All four paws touch the carpeting once more
and i follow her till she closes the bathroom door.
At least she's up and will let me out
and I have to go hurriedly and soon, no doubt.
Patiently I watch her slowly dress
she's not full awake, hurry please or there will be a mess.
The kitchen first? Come on, I've got to go,
see me standing at the door holding back the flow?
Coffee made, the pot starts to fill and fall
here she comes, the open door to my paniic call.
He says his name is Gene Pool,
right away I know he is probably American,
there are few to no males
called Gene elsewhere.
Yes I recognize him instantly.
My friends could have all recognized him.
Dogs with their wet noses attuned to the moistness
of blood, sweat and tears would affirmed him.
On main street the sleepy eyed or hopped-up
working-girls nod at him
with the same unconscious neck springs
as the frog in my garden pond,
or the half-submerged toads in their slippery swamps
or –
well almost all we brain-fed
air-breathing, genetically sculptured life-forms.
A silver-backed gorilla peers out of its jungle nest
grunts in recognition,
as another Gene Pool, spear in hand,
slips through the leafy smudge of the jungle.
My thoughts return to the man in front of me;
strangely enough, he resembles me not.
I shake his hand, it seems
the only correct response,
he smiles weakly -
says:
I’m sorry sir, do I know you?
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Scientists have traced the evolution of the four-chambered human heart to a common genetic factor linked to the development of hearts in turtles and other reptiles. The research shows how a specific protein that turns on genes is involved in heart formation in turtles, lizards and humans.” - Gladstone Institute.
*Image of Nursing Home provided by Pixabay.
Just Stating The Obvious Poetry Contest
Poetic Form: Rhyme
PLACE: Hereafter Harmony House (Assisted Living Facility)
Morning ushered chairs align the walls
blanketed legs with tabled meal trays
infirm progress neath Andy Warhol's.
A chambered room fills every which way
those ably walks passing out game cards
help checkers rounds, the game is in play.
Most play onward while others do naught
some just sit there, a few simply talk
while bingo goes on, helpers will spot.
A blank gaze onward, a blind man feels
his fingers balter a page of braille
while edged lips rise and a smile reveals.
Hue balls tumble, a number is said
it goes till one or more says BINGO
winners got gifts, games till lunch is spread.
TV is watched by the non-sleepers
wheelers part ways, escape to their rooms
prop up on beds made by housekeepers.
Incessant tapping, a hallway clears
an attentive dog nudge e'er so oft
side partner pleased, loyal all these years.
After their dinner and no caffeine
long distant talks with family ties
blissful hearts, sleepy-eyed and serene.
2021 May 09
*1st Place*
'ALL YOURS(May 21)'
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 May 21
*1st Place*
Just Stating The Obvious Poetry Contest
~~Brother Jacob: Judged 2021 May 18
The window lets in an odd solitary ray of light,
Of timid color, a cusp between twilight and night.
It lands hesitatingly on the golden tip of my pen,
and then blasts into the iris of my eye, half open.
Startled, I squint but soon realise its but a reminder,
That the affairs of the day, I should soon surrender,
And be on my way, to the place I call home,
For it'll be a few hours of a tiring roam,
Through the gentle gloam before I can see its dome.
‘No, no, it’s too early,’ I grievingly mutter.
As I try to gather the notes scattered asunder,
From a pale and oft molested whiteboard,
To weave them into a crisp, meaningful report.
One that I must present in the new-born morn,
Not sleepy eyed, to eagle eyed executives of power,
Attired smart, in a confident and assured tone,
Their queries must I field, without a cower.
It had ripped me from my sleep, the phone,
With its unrelenting wail at dawn,
At it again, with a sweet jingle and a message lone,
With goosebumps, on me it does finally dawn,
That I will be a prisoner of my chair until dawn.
I shake and then scratch my head; i blink and then close my eyes,
It’s too much to cram in too short a time, they cry.
I slam my fists and then take a deep breath,
to let those fumes of anger dissipate,
and let my fingers dance on the plastic array of alphabets.
At half past ten, with my eyes heavy and swollen,
I decide to reclaim what’s left of the day,
And be on my way, to the place I call home,
For it'll be a few hours of a tiring roam
Through the rainy night before I can see its dome.
Its half past two, before I hit the bed,
With the after taste of a hastily devoured supper, in my mouth,
I steal a quick glance at the screen, out of habit,
With a frown, I shake and then scratch my head,
No revert yet, on the 'urgent' report.
Four hours hence, the phone wails again,
Jolted from my sleep, I blink and then rub my eyes,
‘Sorry, but could you stop by a bit early?’ he prays,
In despair, I rip me from my sleep, to begin yet another day.
On a snowy evening when the cold wind swirls
We sit quietly thinking of the boys and girls
And the excitement the early morning will bring
As the joy spreads rippling while the children sing
Years ago we too were lost in the maze
And foggy wonderment of those fleeting days
When sleepy-eyed we longed to stay awake
To see the jolly red giant and to partake
In the mystery of the spell only he could spin
But sandy-eyed we fell asleep again
Quiet and still the winter night was hushed
As I looked around the room and rushed
Into the fireside glow where the glittering tree
Displayed its presence and huddled there for me
My dreams and wants, I shook with all my joy
And rushed around the tree, clutching at each toy
My sister wandered in still yawning
We knew we’d never wait for morning
And Mom would call us to the window to peer
Into the night for St. Nick and his reindeer.
The wonder of those times still brings delight
It’s truly magical, the love of this special night
.
.
.
Christmas morning, my daughter’s still asleep
Too young to understand the memories we keep
Locked away for this very time of year
When Santa loads his sleigh with all his gear
And sets his flight for all the world around,
Returns again with not even a pause or sound
The wonder of this night is strong in my mind
We hope and want for her, a feeling just as kind
Full of mystery, wonder and joy without bounds
The night each year when Santa comes to town
========================================
Featured Poem on Poetry Soup - February 19, 2023
My favorite vacation would have been my very last summer vacation
travelling to Florida with my daughter and husband was an inspiration
Who knew, not long after we would be hit with a world wide pandemic
the sun back then was a splash of rich golden yellow, so totally Semic
Early morning visits sleepy eyed like white tail deer we entered a shop
hot bagels of every kind steamy coffees, summer dresses, flip flops
Sun tan lotion by day, Italian ravioli by night, it was indeed a sweet holiday
stretched out on the beach with sand between our toes we enjoyed the rays
It had been ten years since our last real holiday last time I had gone on a plane
today I look at the photos and smile, who knew things would soon go so insane
Maybe tomorrow it will be over and I can return to Florida with my small family
this time my son might come along too then we can bathe there, peacefully...
Jan 26, 2022
***********************************************************
Relativism is the new absolutism, and CONDEMNATION of evils is being Forsaken. We are losing REVERENCE for God, and our sacred story must be Reawakened. I fear a generation enameled with a PREDILECTION bent on Entitlements. We are ENCOMPASSED with Entertainment and social media Engagements. We are too lost in a secular Wilderness to be concerned with UNEARTHTLINESS. Though curable, APATHY* is one disease that is far-reaching and Sleepy-eyed. CONSTERNATION causes acquiescence, but 'the few' will turn the Tide.
10292018PoSoupContest, 7 Lines, 7 Words: Rhyme, Lu Loo;
*Lamentation 1:12
****************************************************************
From my memory and from endless maps
I recreated my homeland to write newly upon it
And on the twenty first day, God rested for months
To ensure the world could shine darkly
The February sun shone mercilessly
As the only thing that could kill my hunger
I tasted their lips before walking into another set of credits
Ever pondering why I even bothered to perform
Endless ghosts whirled before me
As all past plot threads wrapped up nearly beneath me
Gazing into the bright Spring sun
My heart rang as hollow as ever
Twenty four and there's so much more
As an unwitting finale to permanent summer vacation dragged out
Beaten down by sun and arm in arm
We twin herobreakers drank the days away
Forever locked within my skull
My gray matter cried for what it lacked
And yet I let the waves crash down on me
To shield those who wouldn't return the favor from life
Thirteen months deep into stillness
I finally entered my field and ran
The summer sun never touched my skin
As I built and used a new TV studio
Culinary echoes bounded back at me
As the wizened elder who craved the chance
That stony faced and sleepy eyed children only took
Because they felt as though they must, rather than they could
Falsely accused with no recourse
I let my rage vanish into the aether
And lost myself within routine
As the heroic replacement I so desperately wanted to be
I took a student under my wing
And began to consider a new flight path
As this nest I came to know
Was battered by the fell wind I flew in on
And on that hill where my life was saved twice before
A dashing warlord gave me the missing piece I craved
The gentle tune of the ocarina called
And every morning, I patched what was lost
And thus the twin herobreakers merely became one
As I abandoned him to act as God
As nasty as any punch to the liver could be
When it became clear we could only bond over booze
And thus I waved goodbye to a decade of growth
Asleep at 10 with no fanfare
From every end comes a new beginning
So rest well knowing I'll remember you fondly.
At dawn still young, a grey throat on the go
Rests on a branch nearby swaying with ease,
And moves from deep inside to edge below,
To please me, or to call the mate of his,
To swing and bend, balance against sharp breeze,
Seek a foothold, await if wind should rest,
And settled down when, sing sweet melodies—
Furioso and forte, full throat and breast,
Moderato when Vaishakhi winds rise,
The climax coming lento, shorn of haste,
Never to vie with winds, opting t’be wise,
Ah, my morning alarm and summer guest,
Who, when I peep out to watch sleepy eyed,
Far away flies in thick foliage to hide.
______________________________________
Sonnet |08.06.2024| Robin, bird
Poet’s note: Vaishakhi winds: pre monsoon winds in the month of Vaishakh, the peak of summer in India.