Long Slip on Poems
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Searing pain rips through my chest,
As I slip on the painted green stairs,
Running from something I’m not sure
Too afraid to stop, to turn my head.
My heart races, my head throbbing,
If I could just take a deep breath,
To cleanse my soul and refresh,
Where is this dark building I’m in.
Lying in warmth I move my hand,
Red covers me, flowing down the steps,
A peaceful calm envelopes as I view
My Dad with open arms waiting for me.
He is standing now, out of his wheelchair,
Smiling with his crooked grin so sweet,
The pain ebbs and happiness grows
Then I wake again to the dark emptiness.
Written September 23, 2012
For Francine Robert’s contest
“In Dreams”
It was after the defeat at Camden,
in the fall of 1780,
British Major Patrick Ferguson
sought to exploit Britain’s victory.
To secure South Carolina’s countryside,
he marched his loyalist forces forward,
threatened the men beyond Appalachia,
said he would lay waste with fire and sword.
He believed that with Gates fast in retreat,
resistance in the south would soon fall,
but he’d not met the Overmountain Men,
and did not understand them at all.
Living on the edge of the wilderness,
they were a hardened and seasoned crew,
who had been fighting Indians for years,
and had defeated more than a few.
Isaac Shelby and John Sevier,
fresh from a small win at Musgrove’s Mill,
were not going to just let this threat pass,
that would have been much too bitter a pill.
A call was sent out for all to muster
at a place known as the Sycamore Shoals,
fourteen hundred militiamen afoot,
they all started off after their goal.
Word was that this Major Ferguson
marched fast to rejoin the British man force,
against such an army they couldn’t stand,
so they hurriedly traced Ferguson’s course.
Even put nine hundred men on horseback
so their enemy would not slip on by,
leaving five hundred patriots behind,
across that fair country did they fly.
Ferguson knew he was being pursued,
and made his camp atop of a low peak,
three hundred feet high with broad wooded slopes,
it seemed a secure place to rest and sleep.
So strong did he feel his position was
that he proclaimed, to calm all his men’s fears,
atop the hill they could hold forever,
no force on Earth would move him form here.
Such confidence had the man in his strength
that his lookouts sadly dropped the ball,
at three o’clock the patriots attacked,
the British men had not seen them at all.
The militiamen surrounded the hill,
following a loose and pre-approved plan,
moving and shooting like the Indians,
never out in the open would they stand.
To make things worse, the British forces had
muskets, best suited for open fields,
patriots carrier Kentucky rifles,
at two hundred yards their danger was real...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
You don't always hear me complain.
I love the warm sun, the summer rain:
The springtime flowers and the autumn leaves;
But when winter arrives, unfortunately I start to freeze.
I like it when the temperature is 40 degrees,
And not when the snow is halfway to my knees.
Now I don't mean to sound snooty.
When I slip on the ice and fall on my booty,
And the cold North winds hit my face and nose,
There's nothing I can do, I suppose.
The fact remains that I don't want to be frozen.
Now I leave you with my favorite slogan:
Some folks like to frolic in the snow for kicks,
But brothas, like me, and cold weather just don't mix.
They probably thought the elders would go quietly.
Everyone over fifty got a pink slip on the same week.
But one was not enough. We also received two emails.
And a registered letter, letting us know we were gone.
This would be our last month. We were terminated.
I attended a union meeting.
Exchanged phone numbers with two other seasoned women.
I filed a completed form with the EOE at midnight.
My boss was visited by two suits from headquarters at nine a.m.
I was outside, and I heard her say something.
One of them turned and looked at me.
Then he said “She looks so harmless and unassuming.”
I smirked. Glad I had gotten those phone numbers from those women.
To file with the EOE you have to have proof it is age discrimination.
Give them the email and phone number of two other sufferers.
I had outfoxed them; that was twelve years ago and I still work there.
(continued from While Caesar watches for Brutus Part One)
Then you think of a face you love, those prayers begin
You try to crawl safely back in
The crowd disperse with taunts of " chicken"
You reach for the priest's hand, you begin to stand
But you slip on a pigeon's shhhhhh........
You awaken in a body cast from head to toe
Napoleon and Caesar are debating the earth's woe
Nurse Ratchet comes in and blows a pill down your spout
You've bought a one way ticket to loony bin, with no way out
The world is so mechanical
It's becoming so scientific
It is getting to be so-so difficult
Your eyes search for answers
Your lips mutter why
Then you glance and Napoleon walks by
He salutes you, his wounded comrade
And kisses your cheeks
You smile, Napoleon smiles
While Caesar watches for Brutus.
I caught his eye and he caught mine
(Though after years did pass,
He told me what attracted him
Was not my eye, but ass!).
Exchanging names, we made a plan
To meet at evening's end
(For this was way before a text
Or email we could send).
We both showed up, hit Chinatown;
With chopsticks we did eat.
(He taught me how; I've used them since.
They make the meal complete.)
Today's the date we celebrate
That night so long ago.
We've stuck together through the highs
And every single low.
We'll dine tonight with chopsticks
(Though the food we'll eat is Thai)
And wonder how so many years
Have seemed to slip on by.
PEEP DEEP to COLLECT GEMS
Gems should sparkle in poems, worth to mention
Poetry to touch mind in emotive beauty.
Poet to undertake this responsibility.
Put a catchy title to draw attention.
Carry your spirit, plumb the depth, bring the charm.
Whatever be theme, to sink in abyss of heart
in pleasant soothing style for impact to exert.
sending errand vibrant, brilliant bold firm.
Poem to resonate with rhythm of soul
‘Solace in grief, 'inspiration in despondence',
Sensing love and peace, bringing bliss on elegance
Unspoken syllable to voice or to scroll.
On easy flow you can compose in rhythmic rhyme.
You can try poetry on smooth symmetry
Or to glide, slide, slip on slant asymmetry.
Let free verse chime ringing harmonizing dream.
Choose a title to enchant and to allure
Try poetry enjoying your creation,
reaching reader with pleasing recreation.
Title to attract reader: I must assure.
05/07/21
My boat rocks gently under a reddening sun,
is it wrong to wish for a Viking burial,
to ponder a last journey West
into the dying light?
Strangers have always been my friends,
they intuit
the liquid and inflammable nature
of this thing we do.
I could rest my soul here in this skiff
on this one long warm wave of evening;
let the wooded lands and sloping meadows,
the dredged, smoke-stacked barge brimming ports,
the patched up river towns slip on by
under the kindling sails of evening clouds.
I am laid out like a homeless person
bundled up in my rags and tinder,
a shadow in a small boat, drifting.
Night falls to the water
the words of strangers flame high
fire starters and their poems gleaming
as the dark rushes in.
I hitch the boat to a stump of land,
still imagining a Viking funeral,
but also resigned to a tomorrow -
yet another strange place
to play with this fire.
the hour late, I hesitate
to lift the shield of isolation
the walls lean in, as if to hear
they make believe, by breathing hard,
as if they sleep,
but I am wise to them, I am...
I know the sound, I know of eyes...
these walls have souls that live within
the air is solid, the light is dim
beyond my window, summer stirs
a sleuth that leers... , absurd it seems,
but watching me, I feel the burn
it shuffles in, with shades of black
a muffled step, through restless leaves
I catch my breath, ......yet strange, ....at ease
the curtain pants, with pulsing veins
I brush my hair, step out of clothes...
wait one moment to compose...
slip on a gown,
holding close my other self
the one who never dares to take a chance
I want to dance the seven veils,
for eyes that dwell beyond the glass
beyond my dream, ....they look at me
two eyes,they watch in black and white,
I feel the burning of the night
the suddenness of who I am...
she has no name
she has no shame
wanton, willing in the dark
it's sliding in the crisp black grass
I douse the light.........and step up close
to look again, through window's pane
no questions asked
the eyes aren't there.....
in black and white.......and by the gate...
nothing waits....
becoming clear
but I don't care......
in isolation............the walls are falling
and have old souls
I know they stare
I'll dance for them
I know for certain
they are there
_____________________________________________________________
Resubmitted for Contest: Premiere Contest # 10
Sponsored by Skat
Hello January it's been a year
Now it's time for you to share
All the wonder and great things
This special time of year brings
Soft white snowflakes that are falling
Cool slow breezes that are calling
You inside to get more warm
Cocoa's and blankets keep you calm
When the wind starts to blow fast
Against the windows it will pass
But your inner kid comes through
As you slip on rubber boots
Acting crazy and insane
Not caring about the pain
That's on your fingers and toes
Happiness begins to glow
As you play and act so young
While another years begun
And January leads the way
To more cold, then sunny days
Never knowing what will come
As a new year has begun