Long Thieves Poems
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Two black backed gulls returning
gathering twigs they build their nest
haphazardly placed on a concrete ledge
protecting eggs from thieves and vermin
Watching her patiently sit, she waits
for her precious brood to arrive
in rain and fog and cold and sun
her warmth stirs the life she creates
Just before dawn at the end of the night
I spy three babies before me
fluffy, spotty, adorable chicks
uplifting my soul, my heart fills with delight
Written 31st May 2019
5th PLACE
Contest: An Uplifting Feeling - Bookend Rhymes
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Contest Name STRAND no 650
Sponsor Brian Strand
Honorabe Mention
There he was dying such a cruel death
between two thieves upon cross of wood
this is the eternal son of God no less
he had come to earth to do only good
Died he did having shed his blood
put in a tomb blocked by stone
stayed there for two whole days
but on third morn tomb was open
Jesus had risen in resurrection life
death had no power over this man
this God man rose to forever live
for his people to follow his plan
All believers in the risen Lord
praise him for great things he's done
this Lord ever lives to intercede
for his own love shines like sun
His praise be always on our lips
for he alone deserves it all
this saviour deserves all glory
overcame death obeying his call
In the shadowed wires where secrets hide,
Silent thieves in code abide.
A click, a breach, a stolen key,
Invisible chains that none can see.
Digits dance in darkened halls,
Firewalls crack, the system falls.
Identity lost in a web of lies,
Echoes of trust in silent goodbyes.
Beware the hackers, sly and keen,
Masters of the cyber scene.
Guard your data, shield your name,
In this digital world, nothing’s tame.
For every byte and every trace,
Leaves behind a shadowed face.
In the fight to keep secure and right,
We stand as guardians of the night.
In networks vast where signals flow,
Lurks the dark where dangers grow.
Phishing hooks and malware's snare,
Threats unseen are everywhere.
Yet united, wise and strong,
We fight to right what’s gone wrong.
Cyber justice lights the way,
To keep our world safe every day.
THE WATERMELON THIEVES
Once when I was oh so young,
My mom decided she,
Would show us where some melons grew,
Beneath some large orange trees.
A farmer man she knew of,
Grew them there she said,
So folks would leave alone the fruit,
That grew above their head.
The melons were okay to take.
Just let the oranges be,
So off we went to pick some,
My mom, my sis and me.
I was only five years old,
So I sat in the car,
With Mama's friend who drove us there,
No light from moon or stars;
Because the orange trees blocked their light,
And I was sore afraid,
Because it was so dark in there,
Hidden in the glade.
Suddenly I saw my mom,
Running like the wind,
Right behind her came my sis,
A melon 'neath each limb.
Then in a flash my mom went down,
She tripped and broke her melons.
"Run Ruth, Run!" I heard her say,
They're runnin' and they're yellin'.
Mother! Wait! I heard Sis call,
For she had gone down too,
Stepped in a rotten one and fell,
They both were in a stew.
A flashlight beam then pierced the dark,
They made the car just barely;
And we took off just like a shot,
Took out the fence gate squarely.
We made it back home just past one.
They laughed until they cried.
I was so young I just sat there,
Agape with my eyes wide.
My mother had skinned both her shins,
My sister, she smelled funny,
Because that melon she stepped in,
Was rotten and real funky.
Some thought my mom as mothers go,
Not what you'd call high scoring,
But I can tell you life back home,
For sure was never boring.
Judy Ball
FOR NATHAN D.'s - LET'S PUT A SMILE ON MY FACE CONTEST
My wife picked up the phone and called her friend Lucy
Said we'll be in your haunts, we're coming to D.C.
"We found a hotel in Largo, it has a large pool
It will take our dog, and the kids don't have school."
Lucy replied "Largo hotels shelter many an illegal
"I suppose you picked it because it will allow your beagle
"Anyway, not all illegals are guilty of vice
DHS is cracking down, plus some are really nice."
"One point" Lucy added, "don't walk outside:
"Largo's poor, and lots of crime beside"
"And" said Lucy, don't park in the back of the hotel...
"Thieves will rip off your car, and parts they'll resell
"There's nice shopping, but a gang hangs out at the mall
"They sometimes get violent, but police are on call
"I bought shoes there, it's nice - oh if you take the train
"Just avoid the bad types, stay in your lane."
My wife is an optimist, she said Lucy was upbeat
But the devils in the details, I was white as a sheet
I switched our reservation to Rockville MD
Hard to believe that our capital is Washington, D.C.
I looked up Largo, its known as really bad
But many towns are runners up, it's really sad
I've been told by folks who visit Europe's east
They have safer, prettier cities, relatively at least.
The U.S. is a checkerboard, some squares are alright
But 40 percent of us fear going out at night
I used to think we were a center of freedom and right
But dystopia reins, the future's not bright.
January 13th, 2023
After wishing upon a star
to garner a handsome windfall
as a positive fated birthday gift
lo and behold, these ears didn't deceive me,
cuz I discerned a partial telephone message
hinting at word winnings to good to be true.
I (a sheepish fellow) nearly got fleeced...
to the tune of five hundred dollars
courtesy publishers clearing house scam
nearly got the wool pulled over my eyes
lucky for me presence of the missus
a force not to be reckoned with,
she madly gesticulated
yours truly to hang up the telephone.
Predacious con artists
flourish thick as thieves
insinuating themselves
with practiced braggadocio
annoyingly swat away
her/his feigned friendly felicitousness
courtesy mine non affirmative action
think my feeble and meek
polite verbal declinations.
Characteristic passiveness pervaded
persona non grata of yours truly,
whether being the "scapegoat"
all throughout twelve years enslavement
constituting skool of hard knocks
reflexively withdrawing within self
seriously contemplating existence
as Norwegian bachelor farmer.
After consuming copious
platefuls of powdered milk biscuits,
I (an ordinarily shy person)
bucked and chucked
conventional behavior of mine,
plucked courage with humorous repartee
off times conjuring
the perfect comeback
versus smarting with absent
quick wittedness ex post facto.
Overzealousness ofttimes finds yours truly
trying to overcompensate
being pegged as quietest student,
whose severe nasality reinforced
(courtesy submucous cleft palate)
impeded communicating spontaneously
even now thinking twice before
interjecting a comment viz aperçu
(ideally humorous) to feel included
among social venue or milieu.
Where are all the story songs,
like 'Gypsies, Tramps and thieves'?
'The Gambler' and ' a boy named Sue',
'Ruby', where his wife leaves?
'The night they drove old Dixie down',
the American Civil War,
and 'Coward of the County' where
the Gatlin boys got what for?
Major Tom was up there, floating round,
moonshine down Copperhead road,
a Horse with no name trod the sun bleached ground,
Georgia Johnny, the devil tried to goad.
Honey, we still miss you, and we're still not feeling good,
and 'Thriller' with those zombies lurking in your neighbourhood.
Nowadays, it's all bootys , and buxom babes, half dressed in their stilettos
all cruisin' round where Elvis saw a young man in the ghetto.
New music, short attention spans, in years you won't recall,
if it wasn't for us poets, there'd be no stories at all!
The Flower I Water Too Much
They say too much water drowns the root of the flower you love —
I pour the whole sky into her smile, wrung from my veins, like an eclipse,
and the world dims itself shyly, a lantern begging for its own darkness,
when she smiles, time bends, and the pollen falls backward, toward the stem.
Her laughter is a swarm of bees made of sound, caught in a honeycomb of clouds,
the clouds lean in, gentle thieves, to steal a drop of its wild honey,
and carry it across a sky like a mute map, drawn only out of echoes,
while I stay below, a castaway on an island made of her memory.
Her dimples are bottomless wells, carved into her cheek by a careless angel,
the compasses of wandering hearts lose their north and drown inside them,
a glance becomes a root, a thought becomes the vine that binds you,
and my eyes, rudderless ships, choose gladly to be lost.
It's unfair how a thing so small holds all the tides of the world inside it,
how one fine curve of lips turns a moment into living, pulsing amber —
I drift psychedelic through her dream, smoke that's lost the way back to its body,
and every ordinary minute freezes into a silent, precious stone.
So if loving a flower too much turns my sap into the flood that drowns it,
what do I do with this admiration that blooms on its own, every time she smiles?
I let it burn in me like a star already dead, but still giving light,
or I drown in her, knowing every beautiful garden carries its drought within.
Fifty nine inch tall wife
once willowy wisp
postmenopausal galloping gourmandiser
playboy centerfold girly
figure ain't no mo,'
which superfluous weight deterrent,
love life yours truly
took Kamikaze nosedive
arousing, exciting, stimulating...
as romancing the stone statue,
but seen thru Tom
gobbler beady eyes
butterball babe resembles hottie
female turkey on steroids without feathers,
spouse already qualifies as Hen pecker
not admirable characteristic
to encourage physical intimacy
whew, which allows this husband
to redirect pro creative pursuits
where English language
beak homes muse,
which amateur philologist
attests to literary penchant
most likely garnering posthumous fame
revving up avast surge
necessitating Barry yore
to deter den of thieves
against stealing precious
documents - sold at auction
avid fans snapping up
bajillion tattered staind scribblings
indistinguishable from chicken scratch
interlaced with gobbledygook
(unbeknownst to John Doe
who faintly resembled me dead
drunken grizzled shabby skidrow
anonymous deceased wordsmith),
mortuary performed makeover
courtesy same Joseph and the
amazing technicolor dreamcoat
academy award winners
unexpected set couture club craze
suddenly everybody and their ilk
including grandmother goose, pink panther,
porky pig, Scoobie doobie do, ugly duckling...
triggered feverish buzz feeding frenzy
even cosmetic surgeons experienced
boomtimes, cuz ma
eternally sleeping pose
inspired cottage (cheesy) industry,
the global economy witnessed
unprecedented unsurge
ending world wide poverty.
"The Hope Thieves"
Colours change chameleon fast
The Hope Thieves
steal dreams to make up
for their own lost lives and fast-draining
upside-down hour glass pasts
In their hearts a million silent cries
In their minds a million worlds collide
Lost, cunning and sly, they drink up pure essence of Hope and Trust
like blood sucking vampires patrolling the crowded underpasses and
the jungled overgrown potent gardens of trysting rose-glassed lovers and soothsaying sage-green poets
They exist as shadow people dark and full of shallow notes
In their lives a million reasons why
In their world all doors shut inside
They exist on the outside
Looking for the key to open their own home doors wide
Lost husbands and brides, petulant, deriding The Others,
Ghosts of romantic scribes finding freedom in wide open Blue Skies
The Hope Thieves
steal dreams to make up
for their own lost lives
Colours change chameleon fast
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/rQiyyoLF05A
Emika/Take Me for a Ride
“Becoming a vampire means completely changing your identity.”
https://youtu.be/jG6s7W9yG_c
Emika/Mouth to Mouth
“The strength of the vampire is that people will not believe in him.”