Long Trick Poems
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Oh my!
Halloween night
Of fun and spooky fright
Moonlight creating flickering
Shadows
Children
Quite elated
Trick-or-treating with friends
Who’s creepiest with make-up and
Costumes
Evening
Getting cooler
Night is getting darker
Children walking with bright flashlights
Chilling
Goblins,
Haunted houses,
Black cats, witches on brooms,
Owls hoot, bats silhouette the moon
Eerie!
Carved out
Spooky pumpkins
Glowing flickering eyes
Watch out for small ghost and goblins
Door sign
Grumpy
Children to bed
Sick with crampy tummies
Halloween candy hangover
Nightmares
10/17/2015
As the darker days are approaching and it's nearly Halloween I wrote this poem. . Also on my Instagram account daisymeadows2023.
HALLOWEEN
Lighting up the lanterns all around,
Witches cackling by the cauldron,
Can you hear that chilling sound??
Mixing up their mysterious potions,
Menacing looks in their eyes,
Don't be fooled by the witchcraft,
Or of any disguise!!
They are full of trickery!!
Don't hang around!! Run!!
Hide somewhere they can't see.
There are monsters and spooky shadows,
Children in costumes, roaming around,
Halloween again!!
Trick or treaters have they found??
The moon looking down with a watchful eye,
The misty, dark night scene unfolds,
Halloween begins,
As the mysterious story is told.
Chill in the air and howling sounds of dread,
I quickly shut my curtains, lock the door,
And dash off to my bed!!
ITs another Halloween
There are groups walking the street
Looking happy with themselves
And their stash from trick or treat
We’ve got toffees by the door
And a bag of lollipops
I’ve taped up the letterbox
To stop unwanted drops
The tree outside is webbed
The pumpkin lights are lit
I’m dressed up like Hagrid
But my costume doesn’t fit
Waiting for the neighbours
And their throng of ghosts and ghouls
For the annual spooky party
We host again like fools
And suddenly the house is full
Excitements on the rise
The dog’s under the table
Fearing her demise
Hoops thrown around witches hats
The mummy has been dressed
Now it’s time for Zombie Tag
The dogs looking more stressed
The din moves to the garden
security lights ablaze
The apples have been bobbed
So now it’s time to graze.
A table spread with orange cakes
With crisps and monster munch
Soon looks like a tornadoes past
Did these kids not have their lunch ?
Can we watch the telly now ?
I hear a little pumpkin plead
Casper the friendly ghost is on
Yes ! i say - just what we need
Now it’s time for the grown ups
Who look exhausted tired and grey
Eying up some different spirits -
Called Merlot and Cabernet !
“Mums fallen in the bobbing bowl”
It’s tipped and made a flood
“ Bit too much red wine ?’ asked Bob
No I said - It’s vampire blood !
A sleepy superman appears
Arms outstretches I hug him tight
It’s time to wrap this party up
See you all on firework night
I asked our local Unitarian-Universalist minister
if she could see God
as Original Creative Source of Earth (OCSE).
Eventually,
after a rather long pause,
peaceful, not anxiety producing,
she said Yes.
I asked the Shiloh Baptist Bishop
if he could know God
as Abba,
as did Jesus of Nazareth.
He thought about this,
a rather odd yet warm paternal question,
perhaps a trick?
a test?
But, eventually, trusted us enough
to add his Yes.
I asked the All Souls U-U minister,
Would she be willing to imagine,
to heuristically assume,
for the next hour,
that what she feels inside
and believes outside,
what she hopes and faiths,
compassions as dynamic OCSE
might be, or at least slowly become,
synonymous with the more patriarchal sounding Abba,
perhaps yangish Abba
to her OCSE yintegral felt intelligence.
She found this a lot to take in
hold
juggle
and yet listen and speak with integrity
all in this unsafe time of confrontation.
But, Why not?
she asked, rhetorically,
I assumed.
Then I asked the Shiloh Baptist Bishop
the same question,
in reverse,
with Abba still as yang
and OCSE as yin
This felt appropriate,
and not really unorthodox
and therefore theologically safe,
to AfricanAmerican him,
so he said Yes, of course,
history supports an AfroCentric
Original Creative Source
for all human natures.
From there
They seemed to enjoy co-discovering
ecological analogies
for theological regeneration
and degeneration
And theological metaphors
for ecological healing
and wounding fracture.
With nothing much more for me to do
as multicultural mediator of eco/theo-logical peace
restoring win/win polyphonic justice,
I began outlining
how we might join our choirs
in con-celebration,
singing gospel anthems
while engaging our combined sacred Body
in tai-chi creative stretches
into and back out of
fluid mindbody positions,
Heuristically inviting
and grace-fully given.
Indian Summer, Part IV
The days proceed.
The nights turn 'round,
Circling my dreaming self,
Spooning my Beloved,
Ever aware of her, though wandering the strange pathways of dreams.
In my waking world,
Everyone is older;
Even my new grandson changes with us
Day by day.
Yet, there is no sense of alarm
At this steady slide towards the Great Finality.
I understand now, at last, that Change is permanent,
But Time an illusion, a cosmic trick
That fools the mind with misdirection,
Making us think that the movement of clocks,
The turning pages of our calendars,
Are really measuring something
-Other than our own foolishness-
Oh yes, the hair turns white,
One laughs at one's old ideas,
The babe on your knee relentlessly transforms into a youth;
Millions of small differences are endlessly piling up
And carrying you along on their tide -
But all that is Change; that's what you're measuring, really.
The Past is all photographs and stories,
The busy fondling of things that share in your changing,
But you can't go back and relive even a second of it.
The Future is arriving,
Sneaking up behind you, or more like you're walking backwards into it,
Though you feel like you're walking forwards -
Another parlor trick.
And you can't experience it until it gets here,
Then instantly becomes the Past.
So that leaves only the Now,
The forever, omnipresent Now
That has been since the Beginning of Everything,
Which every mind perceives in its own way.
Some think God's viewpoint is the collective Now
Of Everything, All at once.
What a view that must be.
For me, my Now has become Indian Summer,
A pivot point where light and dark,
Warmth and cold
Youth and age
Here and there
This and that
Hang in a perfect balance.
One day may as well be a thousand,
A year, a moment.
But as long as I'm in touch with whatever's happening
In this Now,
I'm alright with that.
I am ready, big day today, my first meal,
And what I smell to my taste does appeal,
You have both been so busy preparing,
Love the deal that the three of us sharing.
Oh, it looks exciting, 3 bowls I see,
Never underestimate me,
Which one shall we try mummy
The orange one looks so yummy,
I’m in my chair, and wearing my bib,
Daddy you have my best pose, hip hip
Hurray, do I hold the spoon,
Or is it still a little too soon.
Hey dad not the aeroplane trick,
That was your era – hic, hic, hic,
I have hiccups, please take the video later,
Dirtied my bib, thanks mom, that’s better.
First taste, first dish, mm, tastes good I’m glad,
Could I have another, oh that tipped a tad,
Looked away, sorry guys, now a third,
Slowly please, I nearly chocked.
I keep cleaning my mouth with my bib,
No more thank you, see my lips,
They are closed tight, and my eyes.
Say don’t proceed past go,
No more, I also have rights you know.
Thank you from the depths of my heart,
You are both the greatest mom and dad,
Can we go hiking tomorrow, love been
Strapped on dads back and mom
Takings shots of every scene.
I think I would like to remain anonymous,
And so my stories will stay unique, never with
Anyone else’s synonymous.
This way no hearts will ever be broken or stolen,
The stork till I know better, had you well chosen.
Dedicated to my 5 month old grand-daughter.
Fooled me
Hit me with the....
Love bombing faze
Said to myself....
Hmm... this different
Inner me subconsciously
Wanted to flee
Too good to be true
Trick myself...
Girl let him love on you
Heart wondered
Wondered in darkness
Mind played tricks on me
Judgement cloudy
Cloudy from the red flags
Had all the right words
Words that sizzle my soul
soul floated on Milky Way
Charismatic ascended my spirit
9th dimension of spiritual realm
Thoughts of you
Rang angels playing trumpets
Feed my butterflies in my soul
Your touch rebooted my thoughts
Thoughts of morning sunrise
Blissfully rocking through my emotions
Thought of your love
Elevated my high as a Eagle
False dream of my fairytale
Deemed chaotic
Dilute it my ecstasy
Fell to darkness
Fairytale turned lies
Damn... I had my wall up
Mind in rage
Night of passion
Should left it there
Sweet nothings invaded
My innocent heart
Left my logic in a corner
Logic should been my best friend
Fell for illusion
Fell for false identity
Nobody feelings matter
Asswipe unapologetic
Remorseful what I did?
Care I have no conscious
Indecisive;confused
Selfish I come first
Sweet nothings I tell
Incompetent I don’t know love
Sneaky
Trifling
Inconsiderate
Careless; reckless
Bazball pimps now shrimps on the barbie
So low did stoop scoop of Nincompoop soup
Trumpet the thump it Bazball strumpet crumpet
Bravado of trio with brio plus lardo & avocado
Braggadocio Pinocchio mumbo jumbo gumbo
Bizarre under par no cigar mis-steak tartare
Phony baloney mony mony minestrone
Fish & swish delish dish of death wish Gibberish
Wacky ego from hero to zero tacky shi*show taco
Don’t give a f*ck not once but twice spliced duck
Flame grilled chances spilled one trick pony
Gobbledygook spooked overcooked zabaglione
Slurry in a hurry won’t worry say sorry curry
Baggie green vented spleen terrine
Why would you even risk it brisket
Takes the proverbial herbal verbal biscuit
Ashes hope killer dope quesadilla
Oz supernova it’s already over Dover sole
Lamb to the ripsnorter slaughter
Drole rigmarole goad toad in the hole
Baz puns like Mao’s guns in bao buns
Gory no glory story does bore me Tandoori
Bazball goals down golf holes silly sausage rolls
Canned slices of fanned tanned Barmy army
Starc tsunami lark umami like spiced pastrami
Bavette baguette of bet will forget any regret
Baz & Ben flower pot men smarmy salami
Stumble derails still no humble pie tales
Scallops with dollops of lolloping Codswallop
Bazball boast spit roast with burnt toast trollop
Snipe this tripe is as ripe as our Gripe
Gabbatoir bete noir Pom bomb Dauphinoise
Done like a kipper without Warne’s flipper
Stellar Aussie fella mortadella from the cellar
Hoodwink stink of our skipper.. all cheesy hype
Shocker if this is our Test best.. zest of fu*k fest
In the locker of Davy call in the navy cos Bazball ain’t gravy
12/1/21
"Get a Grip"
It's fake or is legit
Get a grip
Live or quit
You either do or don't give a s***
It's all hit or miss
Being credible or illegitimate
Able to show and prove or another hypocrite
Biding time or lickety-split
Listen quick
Got some news, time I deliver it
One thing to be wise, but what good comes if you're a chicken s***
You'll get finessed by a little trick
Life comes with inherent risk
Not going according to any written script
Endlessly the minutes tick
Had to flip the script
And put aside any differences
For the time being, still adrift
Going through the thick of it
What a sad game
It's a damn shame
Giving people a bad name
Causing them to rampage
The starting point nearby several lampshades
Since day one
Friends and enemies I've made some
Only from within does change come
Regardless of how far we came from
Just stay true to who you are
At times, took it too far
Or set the new bar
And got a few scars
Effective
With the message
Becoming accepted
Or there is a war against it
Since last fall
Made an effort or didn't at all
Worked out well or ended up being a bad call
Continually getting blackballed
As of now or going back in history
Of course this all is bigger than me
Amid endless bigotry
And trickery
Success or failure as well as happiness or misery
Often competed
In order to get what was needed
Instead of remaining seated
Continually cheated
And mistreated
By those that are conceited
Getting heated
Far from feeling defeated
Still a mission to be completed
So that the same situation is never repeated
Winnetka the witch was wily and keen.
Her mind was sharp, she was a mystical queen.
She decided to trick a hoot owl on Halloween.
She did her best, but he was wise, not green.
He would not fall for her tricks or spells.
He stayed planted in his trees with no kind of ills.
She did her best, but she could not get him down.
He was too slick for this fancy witch from town.
Others came by and offered guidance galore.
One cat paraded up from the stoop next door.
The owl is too tricky, he can outsmart you, she said.
The witch was angry now; almost out of her head.
She wanted that owl, and she wanted him badly.
She tried every trick she had ever heard of and gladly.
“Did she get him?” I asked a bystander the very next day
The old timer laughed. “No. He flew away! “