Long Sniper Poems
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Brilliant light and sound show
not disappointing forecasters promised
outstandingly uproarious performance
powerful winds rage
against the machine
embark to score prestigious
chart chopping hit
pliancy of heavy
boughs sorely tested
ear splitting cacophony
presaged coming fury
within safe shelter of B44,
I hunkered down
analogous to brave soldier
avoiding deadly crosshairs
imagining villainous turncoat
targeting yours truly, now
considering me enemy sniper fire
body instinctively crouches
against impending "FAKE" battle
suspected collusion trumpeting
thunderous applause issuing prelude
betokening nonpareil symphonic
unscored cacophonous rendition,
where pliant limbs
deign to welcome
impending stormy "Daniel" reign
impossible kickstarting boots
on the ground impossible mission
mere mortals cannot hush
their lame clout ineffective against
weapons of mass destruction
unleashed by Gaia
forcing immediate recall
atavistic survival skills
tapping into fifty shades
gray matter within
primitive brain stem
long atrophied primal beast,
an individual object lesson
desperately summoning
emergency measures
lest life and limb
whiplashed to pulp
by furiously roaring winds
fierce howling tempest
reminding 21st
century *****sapiens
merciless Mother Nature
intolerant toward global indignity,
perhaps foregone
watershed of extermination
points ship of fools be damned!
Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere
jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking
uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Writer's block afflicts Das scribe,
who whiz now stricken supine
adept dull livery sub par excellence
his gold standard worse
thus, another day
to slog thru arduous process
crafting admirable verse
wrestling behemoth loosed sniper
dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse.
N'er easy chore to fashion
acceptable word worth poem to whit
staring at flickering
accursed cursor doth blank stare visit
flash flooding warning saturated
gray matter fist sized unit
groundswell burgeoning leveed banks
barging signals transmit
urgent army corps of engineers
to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit
apprentice longshoreman
doth double duty
as grammarian sought to retrofit
arduous struggle ensues, where drowning
affects consummation
strong temptation quit
ditch ching progress made,
thus far in hot pursuit
mind comfortably numb
stream of consciousness
submerges concentration
entrenched deep posit
craftiness sentenced to punctuate
disequilibrium doth outwit
venerably beaded trademark
Scottish matted flair
abandoned unfinished poem
left forever stranded orbit
zero escape velocity
zinging, unsprung,
pinging mindscape nonprofit
able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist
bombarding Messerschmitt
undermining, strafing, disabling
cutting crew rescue outer limit
faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.
A sniper is a waiter.
You wait for the target,
You wait for the sunset,
You wait for the sunrise,
You wait for the rain to stop,
You wait for the wind to blow.
Sometimes, you wait for hours,
Then, everything is over in seconds.
Most of the time it is a fruitless wait.
The gun is a lifeless too.
But a good sniper,
Can put a pulse on it.
Bullet knows no mercy.
Too many killings
Makes your heart
Cold steel.
Bullets are like savings,
Spent wisely.
A gun is like a lady.
The less you know about her,
The more you fall for her.
Not precisely,
A gun is like a man.
The more you know him,
The better he can protect you.
I tell you,
A sniper heart is a lonely hunter.
Assassin in my entity...
Discreet is my identity.
Marksmanship of sharp precision...
Targets - victims by decision.
An unknown caller on my phone
Following ceasing dial tone.
Fast and brief, our conversation...
Extraction of information.
Our secret meeting then takes place...
Through darkness - eyes without a face.
Their speech and talk of no surprise...
Tone of their voice, I recognise.
The offering of my contract...
To off who is outlined exact.
My response - no hesitation
Towards this assassination.
Sourcing my weapons required...
Minimal in range desired.
Needed, crucial - ammunition...
Some provisions in addition.
My destination reached - each stair...
Climbing towards the top and there,
The target is spotted in the crowd...
Seemingly confident and proud.
Locked and loaded, I take my aim...
Accuracy - name of the game.
Scoping sniper, my trigger squeeze
Disposes - exposes with ease.
Screaming and tension all around
As I return back to the ground.
Surrounding mayhem on the rise...
The discarding of my disguise.
Later, on the news - expander...
Recorded footage, bystander.
My actions absent - not a trace.
I contact eyes without a face.
Back at the place of our meeting...
Reward for this - my defeating.
My payout figure paid in full...
Day in the life of trigger pull.
The entrance ramp to the interstate is closed.
No problem. It is a great day. The sun is out. I am comfortable in my air conditioned truck.
I travel to another interstate ramp. Red and blue lights again.
Another closure. No problem. But my thoughts go to drama.
A police chase? A sniper? A freeway pile up? An Amber alert?
No problem. I can get to another entrance ramp. I am surprised that it is closed,
Not expecting this three times in a row. This must be something serious.
Then I see the helicopter.
Suddenly I am glad I am not on the interstate.
In my mind’s eye convicts are running amok trying to open car doors.
Two more entrance ramps are closed, guarded by police cars.
I circle back to my starting point, exhausted now.
And more than a little bit peeved.
The time I have spent trying to get on a ramp is double the time it usually takes to return home.
I call my husband. “What is going on?”
“The President is in town,” he tells me. “Every interstate ramp from downtown to
The airport is closed, so he can get to the airport safely.” This is forty miles of interstate ramps,
How many police cars and police officers are being paid and used for this ridiculousness?
Our entire town is inconvenienced for a couple of hours, so the czar can get
To his airplane?
I did not think I could dislike the man any more than I already did.
I was wrong.
Love yourself and respect yourself.
Validate who you are and reclaim your powers.
If you see me happy, let me be
leave me alone to gather dust on the shelf.
Those lonely hours were spent building my tower.
.
Even from beyond the grave,
you still believe you can control me.
You once held the keys to my heart,
but you’ve completely forgotten my strength, honeybee!
You were nothing but a viper, a sniper, and subtly discreet.
Once my foolish heart fell for your laugher
Not it can’t stand the thoughts of your gestures
Now it feels like a ripped -an out chapter,
A love like mine was entirely blind,
A narrative forged in a realm where dreams were scattered:
And here I find myself left with a scammer,
whom I believed was a lover.
Love ourselves and respect ourselves
as we Validate who we are as we reclaim our powers.
If you see me happy, let me be
leave me alone to gather the dust on the shelf.
Those lonely hours were spent building my tower.
Looking back on what has been,
Yet fully welcoming the lessons learned,
Love has its clarity,
I was duped that love is blind
that is why bats understand that night is their domain.
Nelson paced the deck of the Victory
In waters off the coast of Gibraltar
Signalled to his fleet to do their duty
Before the battle known as Trafalgar.
~
Off the Spanish coast man o' wars engaged
In battle paid for in lives at great cost
Loud booms of cannon as the fighting raged
At the battles end three thousand lives lost.
~
England outnumbered had the lesser fleet
Twenty seven ships against thirty three
Admiral Villeneuve suffererd defeat
Against a brave and determined navy.
~
A French sniper shot Nelson fatally
On his death bed was told of victory.
~
3rd April 2019
Poetry Marathon Final Placement
Sponsor Mark Toney.
Revised 16th March 2019.
That first lone leaf twirling slowly to the ground
The first casualty in the war of this season.
One swallow does not a summer make
That one leaf shows what is to come.
Soon it will joined by so many of its comrades
Victims of the insidious sniper of the fall.
The scalpel of the East wind cuts through
The softness summer supplied.
Flowers fading, the absence of bird song
Both signalling the entombment on the way.
Hills cleanly etched against a pale blue sky
Coldly carved in the brittle brightness
Sunlight with all the warmth of a stepmother's smile
Draining the goodness of the moment
The chill of decay portends death
In that illusory cheating glint
Skeletal trees, bare fields, lowering skies
Icy frost and thick blankets of snow.
Some will not live to witness
The ritual of resurrection
But come it will
The earth shaking off its shroud
Then there will peep out
The shy green shoots
Prelude to the glories and glamour of summer
With its heady scents, rich colours and bright song.
This yearly drama plays out its four acts
To let all know everything has its season.
Depending upon where you start
It can be comedy, tragedy or farce
Jimmy put the mighty back in Blighty
Our riper sniper
Viper and pied piper
Didn't want to budge
Depravity of sporting gravity
But given the nudge
So off he did trudge
Issue won't fudge
Still got a grudge
The king of swing..conker on a string
Chestnuts curve...swerve with such verve
You rarely see him hobble our wizard of wobble
Still wiry and fiery...fit as a fiddle so he can
Continue his riddle out in the middle
Definitely more Harrods than Lidl
It seems unfair the flair.. his control in the air
Precision of a physician...our own homegrown musician
Magician keeping alive a glorious past tradition
With his own fantastic rendition
But Selector Trifecta Sedition
Means we've seen the last edition
Humdinger....swinger...gunslinger
Bellicose blows..predicts & inflicts woes on his foes
Audacious soul...born to bowl
Continues to rage..this sage you can't cage
Yearns to still be on the ultimate stage
Despite...or to slight...in spite of his age
Well why should it encumber..its only a number
Like losing an olden golden friend
We will never ever see his like again
Final fix of his bag of tricks
Reminds me of the Matrix
Masterly plan of this remarkable man
So smooth..sublime
Divinely refined
In the groove..prime grace
Our forever adored Time Lord
Who could bend even space
Ah Mr Anderson
Creeping creepy creepers, the crawling trellis
jutting out of everywhere
snaking through country and metropolis
twisting turning in floral bliss
but more like snakes that hiss
But in quietude feign death for self-defense!
Weeping willows with an unreal surreal sorrow
weeping tears of dew onto the silted furrow.
Perhaps weeping for bretheren felled
in deforestations and land clearings in
my imaginations of the call to preservation.
Against ethnic cleansing of greenery for selfish building
As per man's construction for mere recreation
Velvety-green tear- stained faces or rather foliage
When dew is stuck on them as nature's trinkets of pearls.
And over there touch-me-nots swaying coyly
like prim and proper maidens
in the fantastic floral gardens.
And what in the world is this case?
Imitation flowery in place of imitation jewellery?
Yeah, thats poinsettia in a vase
Leaves in the disguise of flowers
Its actual flowers relegated to backstage.
And ethereal fairy-slippers await their never coming wearers
and Indian pipes to be admired by Red Indian sightseers.
Oh and here's another spectacle- but sniper tactics this time
Yikes! Let the naive insect world beware!
Whilst the bloodthirsty killers lie in ambush
Those camouflaged jungle guerrillas
or should we say the venus fly-traps!
Or a more harmless one yet mimicking the scary
A snap-dragon flora, its mouth opening and snapping shut.
Then watch that mega-sized jumbo giant flora
The world's largest flower
No stems, no leaves, plant-eater plant, rafflesia.
Is it too much for the faint-hearted ha ha.
And wow now watch that incredible costume, oh my!
A flower masked as some pesky fly!
None other than the remarkable fly orchid.
And yet another, the silent music of the fiddlenecks
Fiddles as if for the light-weight fairies.
And lastly not forgetting ofcourse
the sky-blue unforgettable forget-me-nots
A memorable bouquet but themselves devoid of memory.
Ah nature lover poets if you wish to view
more of flora in a fancy dress masquerade
Go ahead and flip through the pages of
a botanical, floral
horticultural
pictorial journal.
And see for yourself the fantastic flora's charade
or else imagine them dressed as a floral renegade!