Long Sneaked Poems
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There sneaked a micro organism into the lives of human kind from elsewhere,
Who made it intruded is still a mystery, yet it’s fate of the world
That life on earth is engulfed with thorns and bruises?
They say: It’s from bats, some say: it’s a shoot of ‘Bio-war’,
No doubt it’s a sinister game and human lives are the ball, hit and shot,
Thousands of goals have been dropped and there was no cry of joy,
But ‘cross the world there hath been flow of tears and fears.
The human lives, tainted with creepy killer organism, seek shields of defense,
And there around the Round Table Conference clicked a thought of ‘Social distancing’.
Provinces and states raised the alarm of crisis to avert throngs and mobs,
It hath been a portent for the imminent disaster on the face of earth,
A ‘day of shut’ hath been imposed on the lives as precaution –
No politics, no religion, no caste, no race and ego shall be the law,
For the blood is the same red with tissues and organs for all.
The day began with the legal menace ‘cross the country,
And the wheels and bags were restricted screech and rustle,
The rich and the poor entered their ‘house bags’,
And there seen empty roads and streets except faint travelers.
Round the clock people’s saviours were seen sweeping and spraying sterile medicine,
Life-saving doctors and nurses were seen in spring-up action,
And those infected folks were brought under the treatment of the life-savers.
Behind the legitimate bars of seclusion from the pandemic infection,
There was seen a life of silence for a noble cause,
It was not a total inactivity, but a self introspection of social distancing -
A pledge to chase the epidemic killer virus away from human kind!
Media of service ran thro’ hazards and perils brought into rooms the day’s tasks.
It was a joint fight against COVID -19 beyond human restrictions,
And each of us shall be a victor ‘gainst the epidemic violence.
When I am old I shall be an acrobat Granny Fee said.
People will cheer and stomp their feet at me
The clapping will be thunderous
I may join Barnum and Bailey’s right now
I think they went out of business her grandson Joe said.
The rest of them almost laughed until they saw Granny Fee's face.
Don’t even think about eating one of my monster cookies she told Joe
His sister sneaked him two of them after supper
I am working on my sequined costume Granny Fee told her son.
“Not that again!” her doubtful son Biff said, rolling his left eye.
His children were silent.
Gram slapped Biff's left hand when it reached for a monster cookie.
In the summer the family went to the circus.
Granny Fee begged off at the last second.
“Hey! Isn’t that Granny Fee?
It sure was.
In costume, on the high wire, balancing her corpulence on a pink hippo.
The family clapped, cheered, hooted and whistled.
They loved Granny Fee's delicious chocolate chip monster cookies.
And they all knew that she had marvelous hearing.
The lion sneaked around the perimeter of the courtyard.
Hiding in the shadows, pretending he was still in the jungle.
There is something big out there! Someone hollered.
The lady smiled, because she had spotted him days ago.
She was a lion tamer. This one would come like the others.
At first, to take a bite of her, but her craft would stop this ilk.
She waited patiently, sitting beneath a bonsai tree, enjoying summer.
The lion decided to pounce. With one mighty leap he landed….
At her feet, in a kitten like pose, tummy up.
The lady reached down and scratched him behind his ears.
I have fresh meat for you, my love, she said. You will like it here.
The lion tried to roar, but a tiny wimpy purr came out.
The lady smiled, happy to give him fresh iced water and a catnip toy.
The lion had never been treated like this before.
He became her admirer, her protector and her friend.
Best of all, he never had to hide again. He was now the lady’s lion.
From start to finish
today my sister and I walked the woods.
We mimicked the wildlife and crossed the creek.
We told stories in the sunlight and shade
and peeped at the birds.
Thirty years ago
these same birds' ancestors ate from our hands.
Today we scattered seeds on the bare ground
and watched the bickering birds convening
with one track minds.
We walked back in time
and shared giggles at things we'd fought over -
like the biggest piece of pie and who sat
next to dad in the car, important things
like George Waldencott.
Tears flowed from our eyes
recalling a chipped tooth and broken arm,
burns from cigarettes we'd hid in these woods -
a few of the scars from fights for the rights,
rights of the other.
Our lunches eaten,
our lemonade thermos emptied too fast,
still hungry for mem'ries of days long past.
She sneaked a cookie from its hiding place
in her shirt pocket.
She took off running,
holding it high in the air, looking back
and yelling her dare, "Nana, nana, na - na!"
Racing t'wards home we climbed the garden wall
and split the cookie.
And at last she spoke
words I had ached to hear since their wedding -
"Thank you, Cissy, for letting me have George."
She went home with hubby and three children.
I went home, just me.
6/10/13
I have been chanting five minutes when soft whispers of the forest surround my soul;
A tiny white fluff of a feather floats past my face, bringing me enormous peace.
I sit down on a waiting chair, listening to the birds, singing their helplessness.
Twilight happens as I sit, waiting, watching, pondering what used to be.
Rustling leaves bring my attention to the dog and cat, who have sneaked up to join in the quiet.
We three sit in soft anticipation for a few minutes until an airplane trills past, breaking the silence.
In the distance I hear my neighbor yell at her daughter.
Her voice is quite shrill, but her personality is kind.
Vi is in the beginning stages of dementia,
A travesty to a life well-lived,
A heartache for her seven children.
A truck thunders down the road.
The dog barks angrily.
This is the kind of
Place we live in.
A place where
Trucks breaking
The peace
Makes us bark.
listening to the water in the water mill
brings the Iowa State Fair into my mind
We had a water mill ride
In the sixties it was something
We would wait all day for a chance
to get sprinkled with water
funnel cakes were not invented yet
back in the day
but we had lizards on a stick
live ones.
you had the option to pin them on your blouse
until they expired in the heat
the midway was a riot
you could hear the screams all over the park
we were dragged to the ladies auxiliary building
to look at quilts for hours
when I got older I sneaked off to the 4-h barn
that’s where the cute boys were
an innocent time
when children could run around freely
and no one worried about being sex trafficked or kidnapped
I think of these days fondly when I see a wood mill
So I thank you for this memory
Mama Mia had many kittens, too many to count.
She was a loosey goosey, and met Toms at the fount.
They kept her busy, impregnated, happy and fat.
She was a good mama too, a nurturing cat.
The landlord was askance when he saw her litters.
No more kittens, he cautioned, for they gave him the jitters.
But, Mama began, for she knew she was round for a reason.
Luckily he did not guess she was preggers out of season.
What are we to do? Tom Number Nine asked his mate.
Let me think, she cautioned him. But he was in a fine state.
He took off down the alley, like numbers one through eight.
She had not rated him high anyway, so did not mind her fate.
When the next batch of kittens was born, she hid them quite well.
Her landlord gave her surprise visits, and she always said “Hell!”
She sneaked this litter in and out, walking up the wall like a spider.
It was not always easy, but she did not want him to fine or chide her.
Once I had a bicycle,
A loving present from my grandfather;
Since I was his favorite granddaughter,
He granted my wish at a snap of my finger .
Since he was so old,
A new bicycle he could hardly afford;
He took his bike when he was young,
Which I found it once at the back of our barn.
As far as I remember,
It was really so old and rugged;
But my grandpa was like Mr. Mac-Gyber,
Amazingly fixing all things all-over.
My granda was a well-known painter,
I thought he will repaint and use sandpapers;
When I surreptitiously sneaked into his hut,
He was there recycling all my milk cans.
When everything was done,
He gladly gave it to me with a big hug;
I hurriedly drove it at once,
Down the street and field with so much fun.
“My bike was real a unique one!” I thought.
So different from others in our neighborhood,
Its wailing siren was made up of a cow’s horn,
Tubes were made of dried bamboos and corn.
Other parts were still the same,
Like forks, hubs and chainwheel set,
The rest were made up of my milk cans,
They were pedal, brake and seatgear stem.
Handle bars were what I liked most,
Converted from the handle of his old plow;
So sturdy and so strong all I knew,
And I can drive it so long in full control.
However, when I travelled quite afar,
Parts were falling one at a time;
Until everything suddenly split apart,
Eventually it dropped and rolled me down.
©2012Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Date: Aug. 3, 2012
4th Place Winner (My Very First Winning Poem)
Contest: Any Poem of the Week Contest
Contest Judged: 8/4/12
Poet Sponsor: Secret
THE 12.12 SECS FASTEST WOMAN ALIVE
Life exudes in it's harshest of complexities:
I have built this machine with bleeding hands,
shaped her to slice the wind,
shined her as melanin with polish and sweat,
balanced her with feel in the cold chill
and powered her in heat with iron and steel.
I will become one with her and give her honor.
She will mount the wind like the Falcon.
She will learn speed from the Cheetah
and know no fear for this is where her spirit is free.
So I put on my running shoes.
Tonight I can't hide as I pace myself, breathing,
Letting go with every stride.
The melody of my footsteps and rhythm of my breaths,
Have synchronized into nothing in the past;
A calm stillness inside my head says "...but not now!"
I'm light as a feather so I let myself fly.
The world is a blur, but tonight... I'm alive!!!
On our marks, my competitors hits the track.
Rocketing away as the wind hits our bodies,
The blistering wind slaps our faces enroute the finish line,
We run with every throttle twist taken in time.
I shaved 0.08 secs off the previous 100m hurdles world record
set by Kendra Harrison (12.20s) in 2016.
Now I'm the world champion standing tallest,
And tears start to cascade from my eyes,
The National anthem reminded me:
"The labour of our heros past shall never be in vain..."
But now I'm the hero and my labour has paid off.
“My mum would tell my dad I was going to church
...I sneaked to practice or tell him I was going to a school debate
while I went to an out-of-state competition...", I reminisce.
But my father's ferocious fury couldn't fright me,
“My dad got really mad...when he found out (I was running),
burnt all my training gear and told mum
that’s the last time he wanted to see me in a stadium."
Thinking back how swiftly those years passed by,
I close my eyes and bite my lip, try so hard not to cry.
"Arise Oh Compatriots, Nigeria's call obey": The rest is history.
You were always such a scrapper, a raging thunderstorm -
Tobi Amusan, our pride, a phenomenon without measure,
Record breaker, pacesetter & Inter(National) hero.
Stay steadfast...follow the simmering sun
And undoubtedly be the best you can.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©July2022
Barney a bawling baby bat always got his way
He wanted to choose his own jack-o-lantern Tuesday
He threw a baby fit, screeching and waving his wings a certain way.
His mother said no, but his father was pretty easy to sway.
Daddy hid his pumpkin in the boot of their car that day.
Sneaked it into the house and into Barney’s room so gray.
Mommy found it and chastised Daddy for giving a baby fit its way.
Would she cut it into shreds or give it away? No one would say.
Barney did not win that day, and Daddy was given a lecture by May.
His wife who did not reward bad baby behavior, was irritated until Thursday.
Barney and his Daddy knew this mood and stayed out of her way.
Moral of this story, give no credence to a baby fit, when you live with May.