Long Tenths Poems
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Ten percent
Go my love, become the Earth
Do not fear this second birth
Rest not alone, my word is true
The best of me shall lie with you
I lived a life, so long alone
Until I put you in my phone
Only then, I became whole
Found the value of my soul
For you, I’ll ever grateful be
Not just the better half of me
Took no time for me to see
You were at least nine tenths of me
I the agent, you the star
One tiny part of who you are
For you to me were heaven sent
I thank you for my ten per cent
So, go now, Love, become the Earth
Do not fear this second birth
Rest not alone, my word is true
The best of me resides in you
12 December 2018
For - Last Letter to my Beloved Contest
Sponsor - Silent One
Superhero strobe lighthouse helm hexagonal
Sixty degree angle glass captain bridge
Watchtower for Diminutive Town message
Warns cliff climbers must heed heirachy rule
Soaring steel pylon pinnacle, men microscopic
Sextant lassos moon coins for seafarers
Capsized as whitecaps vomit precarious
Admiral amends an untoward son with his wallet
Navigator Nerida gazes star bright broadwater
Nile writhing serpent steps calm Cleopatra
Societal riser sanitises sympathy's reaction
To hard-knock have-nots, tutorials taught her
Ignore poor crippled car sleepers in their midst
Image is nine tenths of destiny, maintain it
Dim raised to dazzling, finger emblazoned
Bestows dirtily earned glory on emaciated wrist
Beacon lights monarch morrow, slim limbs svelte
Jokers precluded erect huts on soft sand
Jewels crest strawberry sun-light garland
Dangle gold carats in cards her chronicle dealt
Third of November
Superb Vista
In the chapel, the pastor keeps preaching
The exact same words over and over.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened!"
He claims that the more wealth you possess,
The heavier your shoulders become.
"Lighten your shoulders!"
He says a tithe of one-tenth is worse than a lack of faith,
Commanding us to offer nine-tenths instead.
Wait, what? What about my kitten's kibble money?
"Put down your vain, expensive car this instant
And come to me! Do you not have a two-wheeled bicycle?"
He barks that the gas-guzzling hippo is no longer needed,
Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!
"Leave behind the lover you are flirting with!
Does it not waste your emotions and your wealth?
Come to me!"
Wait, what? Am I supposed to live all alone then?
Being so innocent, I believed it all and put it into action.
And before I knew it, I ended up drowning in loans.
Like a cat chasing after its prey,
Debt chases after me at the speed of light.
The pastor then tosses a remark at me,
Saying hunger is far better than fullness.
"The true meaning of 'Come to me, all you who are burdened'—
Have you finally realized it now?"
Yes, I have truly realized it.
That you were nothing but a cult leader.
Meanwhile, our precious seven-generation cat
Is growing thinner and thinner,
And my once hopeful eyes
Have become just like the eyes of a frozen pollack
Left forgotten inside a deep freezer.
Owl..' Owl..? Dumpty had just turned back to resume speaking, yet when he looked the
bird was not to be seen Now where did that Owl go?? Then Dumpty looked down..!
there full stretch and upon its back lay the poor Owl..! What could he do..?? as he was
thinking just that thought he ran 3 times round the fallen Owls form in sheer panic..!
then out of the corner of his eye; he saw the dish..! Water he thought! and grabbed the dish..' then just to be on the safe side he picked up the spoon,! he rushed over to an old
wooden pail and dipped the dish under the water. he ran back and threw it onto the Owl it
took seven attempts before the Owl suddenly shook its head and staggered onto its feet
steady on dear Owl said Dumpty as it swayed on the spot..' Oh said the Owl how awful..'
( a square word ) Its no good at all, Excuse me but would you mind if I help you to sit
on that low branch over there,,' Dumpty said He guided the owl across and it sat down
ruffling its feathers.! Do you mind dear Owl if I make so bold in asking, what Egg-sactly
is a (square word?) It is a most uncouth array of words, that humans use to denigrate others
said the Owl..' Its not a thing nursery rhyme characters should even know of; they cheapen
peoples understanding of each other Dumpty, Oh what a terrible pass we have come to..!
( square words ) Oh how much damage they can cause..! And what a wrong thing to do to
link it to the sweet brave cat...' why he even travelled to London to see the Queen and they
still know him by that name there now, as a matter of fact I'll bet they still have a chair with
his name on it..' this will not do I shall fight to have his name recognised as it always has been
and he is certainly not a has been..! It is his by former precedent; as in (pussesion) is 9 tenths
of the law..!
Copyright Joe Maverick Poetry 2014
Even with death
The Man’s gotta bargain a price
So I suppose that’s why that fat a** mortician
As a sales technique
Made my wife and I pick who gets to sit
From the one available chair
In his lavender lobby
For a full hour the morning after
Before he bothered to waddle out
Wiping bean soup from his forehead
Ushering us in to his office.
We asked to see my wife’s mother’s body
To confirm
I don’t know what, her proper arrival?
We were amateurs and he was offended
I could see him think
What difference does it make?
Possession is nine tenths of the law.
He managed to put his pen down
While he shifted a stack of paper
And heaved himself back up
From behind his chest high desk.
We followed him down to the basement
Of the old three story house
As if we were teens in a horror film.
At the bottom he creaked open a door
Peeked in
And I sh*t you not
He grunted under his breath “Hold on hold on.”
Then closed it fast and suggested we trust him.
We said Cremation
He said “Of course.
"We’ve been very busy with that these awful days.”
We wanted to talk colors and shapes of the urn
And to mention the pretty dresses she’d never worn
We found hanging by the dozens in her closet
We wanted to say something about the general agony
She lived within
The sleeves of her entire life
But pulling on his tie and clearing his throat
He wanted first to be exact with us
The cremation was $3000
And the car ride back and forth
To the Jackson Industrial Park
Was another $1500
Because she’d be riding in high style
Boxed up
In the front seat on the way back
And as well he’d need to see our credit card and ID
Up front
Before we proceeded any further
As if we could cheat him
Or change our minds
And reverse our mother’s departure from Earth.
Simon says: Thirteen’s my lucky number.
Thirteen years ago, I took dad’s money
and bargained with Time to make my name known.
Fate nudged its elbow into my circuit.
Penske luck and talent helped carry me.
I have had the best mentors in the world
who helped me master the intricacies
of maneuvering oval victories.
Last Sunday, no one wanted that wreath more,
the milk had my name on it from the start.
My best chance to kiss the bricks in Indy,
gotta get in rhythm, driving success.
Thirteen laps to go; green lights on again,
Alex and I changed the lead five more times.
Two tenths of a second, first 'cross the line;
Simon Pagenaud wins the Five Hundred.
If thirteen more (or less) inches had been on the track?
Would that have doubled my win time (half-a-second) or
would Alexander Rossi have taken the title?
No, Fate and Time got it right - drivers of victory.
May 28, 2019
Julia Ward's contest: Driver of Victory
Simon Pagenaud (Padj' en no)
Memorial Day – 2023... origin of holiday
Strong and brave men and women
gave their level best
crème de la crème strongest and bravest
leaving grieving significant others
with emotional agony within treasured chest
o'er the redoubt the the enemy did crest
where lovely bones of forebears for everest
dead bodies strewn across killing fields
hostility among warring factions finessed
forsook their lives eternal peace they rest
honored and revered succumbed mortal
electric kool-aid acid test
though I question if sacrificed life
worth a spit of land to wrest.
Now pardon ma faux pas
from dis po' pa try'n 2b sleek
line six starting here necessitated minor tweak
a reasonable rhyme rhyme,
where sense and sensibility weak
Officially called Decoration Day
proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan
first observed on 30 May 1868
Waterloo N.Y. officially declared the birthplace
by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966.
though seven and nine tenths score years
since (minor emendation regarding time frame
since original date I crafted poem)
Appomattox, a psychological balm
helped stitch frayed nation to calm
served as silent psalm
since bombardment at Fort Sumter qualm.
National holiday most adept
at uniting Civil War fallen soldiers
when fiercely armed as brother in arms crept
against opposing forces, which took
by surprise “enemies” or found inept
ill prepared troops with surprise mortal
blow which ambushed attackers leapt
mowing down valiant soldiers, thus
becoming slain grooms who eternally slept
sorrowful lamentable hymns from
widowed brides tears wept.
Cease fire that day
terminating internecine flay
o’er mounds of earth whence
bones o boys donned blue or gray
a day of remembrance for those
who died in our nation's service lay
celebrated this last Monday every May
one must know tis not about division
boot about reconciliation
and sacrifice brave heroes did pay,
the price of their lives for granted
freedoms enjoyed as american lee-way.
Forsooth, now we cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
Sitting astride a frozen mountainside,
eighty others waiting their turn to go,
on the slope blue and red gates a path scribe,
a man says, “racer ready;” so they know.
An hour passed, now it’s my turn to ski,
explode out of the gate with a kick-start,
frozen ruts are what I find greeting me,
muscles press down to absorb impacts hard,
frantic minute, a forward-moving fight,
the scrape of ice, gates flying past my face,
come faster still, can barely stay upright,
you win or fall, there is no second place.
Cross the line, frustration at the results,
tenths of a second leaves you in the cold.
Nine-tenths a century old is my mom
Well over half a century am I.
How quickly we both aged gives me a qualm.
At least my body now can't multiply!
And right behind my mom I'm following . . .
The white hairs keep appearing. It's with dread
I picture myself one day swallowing
my food with dentures stuck inside my head.
Mom scrubbed floors on her knees.(much UNLIKE me).
Her knees gave out; perhaps mine will stay good?
She's got no bad diseases, luckily.
I pray I'll age as gracefully . . . knock wood!
Nov. 26, 2020
For Tania Kitchin's Make Me Laugh With Some Humor - Any Form - New Poems Poetry Contest