Long To a fault Poems
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It was a windy day
My kite was practically blowing away
But I was in a good mood
Because a bologna sandwich is my kind of food
Grandma skipped the mustard, put mayo on mine
Because she knows me, and she is really quite fine.
My cousins were with me, but they gave me some space
‘Cause I had Bruto with me and he wanted a taste.
Bruto is my dog, loyal to a fault, but sneaks a bite
I had to watch him closely while I was flying my kite
My cousin Ally came over and tried to entice him away
But he is my dog through and through every single day
The grass was soft, the day was warm, but not too hot
My cousins were there, and they number a lot.
Eleven firsts, but with the seconds, maybe twenty-two.
I ate my sandwich, and there were brownies too.
It was 1967, a terrific year to be a boy in Cedar Falls.
We made a day of it, played with jump ropes and balls.
Our mothers yelled for us for supper, and there was dessert.
We were grimy and happy after a day in the dirt.
Watermelon was brought out at the end of the night.
We were dragged away from Grandma’s, it was a sad sight.
When I am having a bad day, I think back to that time.
A fabulous day, a week after I had just turned nine.
He was always scheming
Looking for ways to bring in money
Money he would gain by being deceitful
Being sneaky, mean and dishonest
He never imagined finding love
Along the broken road he was taking
Amazing, but fate sent him an angel
A delicate and frail, graceful and loving
Woman who’d always been kind and good
Someone who planned to give him hope
Of the better way, the path toward faith
With love that would always bring grace
She was much wiser than he had been
She listened to him and became a real friend
She smiled and laughed and lit up the room
With her warmth and radiance, her heart!
She was much gentler than he had been
She whispered and sighed and breathed in
The promise of a love that would always be
A love she could believe in with assurance
That he had sincerely become someone
Worthy of the joy she felt when she was with him
He was always so cunning, shrewd to a fault
Conspiring with the gods to give him
All the wealth he hoped would bring happiness
Then, he found her, the angel who taught him
Real love comes to you from giving a piece of your
Heart, a piece of your thoughts, a piece of you
That can only be given when the love is true!
Today, they call her the snake charmer!
The Snake Charmer contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
December 31, 2021
In my early years I possessed this naive faith,
and I believed all that the Bible saith:
often to a fault,
it came from a place of innocent faith;
my life was simplistic with trust.
By fourteen I stopped expecting people to be kind,
I thought that I would find those of like mind:
but found liars,
yet, my naive remains and I seek out and find;
good people who believe in me.
And as an adult my naive quality is not weakness,
it is my source of strength and my uniqueness:
I question everything,
I ask for evidence- gone is all my meekness;
and I expect others to keep their promises.
They were young starry-eyed, yet too soon so many had to die.
Brave to a fault with wanderlust of youth, no challenge spurned however seemingly uncouth.
In azure blue skies with only clouds as friends, they sought their prey through war's myopic lens.
No quarter given and none spared by their foes, incandescent bullets superseding schoolyard blows.
Skill and verve no match for destiny's roulette, to survive another day an all too losing bet.
Still they flew and fought with all their might, for love of country protecting it from blight.
Summoned by that bell with its strident chilling tones, pervading every pore of their worn and tired bones.
Verve and duty each relying on the other, no place to hide but raw courage as their cover.
For all those boys that fast turned into men, saving our isles from sweeping plain to gleaming glen,
We shall remember you forever in our lore, the few that gave so much and often so much more.
As the dusk beacons
And the night commingle with the day
Confusion rented the air
It was an un-endless arrival of him we await
He it the one, King Solomon
Solomon’s Eve unlock her feelings
She wept and we waited,
For the King of the house who left
His throne to no destination
This King had little of Solomon’s wisdom
But shared more of his adultery
With his cup of wine always full to a fault
Drunkard was his middle name
All his fellow drunkard Kings
Had no clue of him
Yet, the night twinkle away
The In-law with the baby in her arms hissed
Two hours went pass the midnight
Still, it was a house full of darkness
His Eve unbolt more of her to me
As she sobs her way to sleep
“He his dead drunk again”
Shall we all sleep, less we loose our night
King Solomon is alive with no live
But drunk in the arms of a concubine”
Darkness exit, as the cockcrows.
Alayande Stephen T.
21st of June 2007
10.15am
In Iba, conceptualized for the scene at my friend’s place OSB.
hello hello so this is the you i've heard so much about
i'm not surprised you don't have a clue who i am
i keep much to myself and try hard not to stand out
i used to love a good party and dance with the best of them
but i soon tired of that lifestyle and all the show and pomp
that's when i looked inward and found what to me truly mattered
through the years i've become more and more of an introvert
treasuring my time for writing poetry and expressing creativity
i'm not the type to go out blowing my horn to sell my wares
in lieu i seek to be surrounded by other creative folk
and found my niche on international poetry sites where
kindred spirits the likes of me abound
the sunshine is my universal source of passion and vitality
i love to go on treks armed with my everfaithful camera
to photograph the beauty scattered throughout the universe
i'm kind to a fault but don't cross me or waste my time
i’m rushing to leave behind all that i can
i'd love to be eccentric but have a ways to go
i have an evergrowing list of aspirations and ambitions
i hope i live long enough to make all of my dreams come true
AP: 3rd place 2021
Submitted on January 7, 2022 for contest WHO AM I sponsored by UNSEEKING SEEKER - RANKED 3RD
A Animals other than my kind are
B Beautiful, loving souls; empathic to their
C Core and full of absolute
D Devotion
E Expressed compassionately, to their
F Family members.
G Generous to a fault are their hearts and souls;
H Holding no malice for wrong deeds done to them, they
I Insist on being there strictly for you.
J Just revel in the delight and warmth;
K Kick back and let them give their
L Love.
M Mutts, cats, birds or even rats have affection,
N None are exempt from God’s love.
O One moment spent with a loving pet is so
P Precious; the rewards of such
Q Quality time with omniscient love
R Reduces
S Stress causing you to
T Transcend this mortal realm.
U Ultimate happiness is a pet;
V Vanquishing all tension and tears of the day.
W Walk your dog, play with your cat, they can help
X Xenophobia, depression and anxiety and
Y You can live with
Z Zest, once again.
2-12-2020
ABECEDARIAN CONTEST Poetry Contest
Caren Krutsinger
Life as we know it comes to a halt
as Rain, king of April, begins his reign.
Downpours, thunderstorms and hurricanes
create chaos as he jerks our chains.
Wreaking havoc and major assault
each day is unique when Rain takes the reins.
With pitter patter or thunderous strains
he writes inclement music with refrains.
Over-swelling river banks to a fault
his work is often known to flood.
When raindrops chase raindrops in cold blood,
the clearest of streams now flow with mud.
Much like a spoiled prince's strong will,
King Rain's temper begins to bawl
with torrents of hail and sudden squall.
Ev'n weathermen's best fail to call.
Because pet plans have gone downhill,
the wee folk in our midst complain,
"Rain, rain, go away." don't come again;
as May shuts down the realm of rain.
And when summer's drought brings overkill,
King Rain still boasts, he holds the reins.
He claims that he empties water mains,
hoarding his resources, causing pains.
written April 1, 2017
24 lines
He is the king of words and poets alike
Assay as you may, this man you won’t smite
His armour sparkles in night or day
Defending those too meek to say
His table is round, there's room for all
There are chairs with wheels so no one will fall
He hands out bronze goblets with sparkling wine
This king of lush gardens has spine
Renowned through the kingdom, for deeds he’s done
There is no battle, he has not won
His knights are loyal to a fault
So you better beware who you assault
Lancelot and Guinevere are by his side
Uniting followers far and wide
So sit and drink with us in harmony
And enjoy food presented artfully
Mare will harvest her pumpkins one of these years
Cheers to you all, she says, for she is unorthodox and crazy.
Lazy is her middle name, for the pumpkins all rot.
Not that she cares, for she is unconcerned about such stuff.
Rough hands look like they have gardened, but she has not.
Rot is what you find in her pumpkin patch this year again.
Kin roll their eyes at her sloth-like ways, but she does not care.
Mare does things in her own way, in her own time. She is strange.
Range rover in her driveway has not been driven for a long time.
Mime her sister tries to get her to be more normal of course.
Hoarse laugh from Mare now. She is independent to a fault.
Malt their brother thinks this is hilarious, but he loves her.
Pure thinking keeps her in the family, for she is kind.
Mind you, she does her best, they say, making excuses.