Long Unabashedly Poems

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Premium Member Party of All Parties

We sat in clusters, on couches, giggling at the antics of the wild ones, the PP’s.
Aka popular peers, who were dancing with self confidence that oozed into the walls.
The PP’s were gyrating to folksongs, flinging each other over furniture, laughing also.
Their laughs made our laughs sound muted and staid until we had a bit more liquor.

Suddenly we were up dancing, part of the PP’s. No, better than the PP’s because….
Our extrovert-ism had dissipated; we were now glib and extravagant, glitzy and glamorous.
My best girls were kicking their feet into the air with a natural loss of inhibition.
I was the highest kicker of all, felt like a Rockette at Music Hall, only prettier.

Some guy laughed and pointed to our group of dancing Barbies. I smiled big time.
Flashing him my best “who gives a cranium” look, for my cranium was now dancing.
I had turned fluid, my appendages were flipping and flopping. I was unleashed.
A wild fox in the middle of a barely lit cavern of wild foxes.  There had never been such a party.

Best party I ever attended, someone said in my ear. It was my friend Sadie.
She was totally utterly unabashedly in the world of Alice; and this was the tea party.
The mad hatter was the next person to catch my eye. I threw back my head like a pony.
Dancing so hard, that my heels made the clopping sounds of a seventeen hand high stallion.

If I never attended another party as long as I lived, it would be okay now.
For I was fifteen, and this party of all parties, made me feel joyful and pretty.
These feelings were terrific. This party gave me enough enthusiasm to last for the rest of my life.
A Cheshire cat was grinning at me from the couch. I gave him a flippant happy wave.

Written 12-6-2020
Contest: Party Folk Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward


Premium Member Around the Next Bend

Love is out there

waiting to be discovered

It usually occurs

when least expected

You can be cruising along nicely

happy with life

when all of a sudden

WHAM!

It hits you between the eyes

We are seldom prepared for it

that indescribable

feeling of joy

A feeling that turns

our whole world

upside down, inside out

We lose all sense of time

about who we are

where we're heading

We start acting like love struck

teenagers again

parading around like peacocks

unabashedly displaying

that age old dance of love

And when our love is returned

we fall into this

indescribable euphoric state

Hoping and praying

that it will never end

Love is out there...

maybe just around the next bend!

Premium Member Of Poetry's Perfection

I’ve littered the page with alliteration
Marbled it with metaphor
Injected it with irony
Confined it in constrictive cadence
Slathered it with slithering syllabic silliness
Ravenously roamed the Rhyme Zone
Challenged the demons of “How many dot com”
Punctuated the un-punctuatable 
Said “the heck with spelchek”
Shed the shroud of sentient surveillance 

For my words are fed through
The shredders of sentiment
The chopping blades of “critique”
The swirling blades of trimmers
The plucky platitudes of pruners

And yet I write, compose, imbue
In unseen color distant words
Rough cut diamonds
Defying the cutters edges
Leaving a life unpolished
Unabashedly unashamed
Of the tarnished truths
That mar the purity
Of poetry’s perfection

Balmy January Fifth Two Thousand Twenty Three

Balmy january fifth two thousand twenty three

pardon moi as I self plagiarize
with slight modifications
cuz following words written
at least an Earth's orbit ago
exhibits pearls of jocularity.

I ran than jumped high
into the upper atmosphere
like a faux young American 
landing on the lunar surface
frisky buck naked and bare
no matter weight of world
and personal woes oppressive,
yours truly shrugged,
(she loves you yea... yea... yea...
think Atlas) "faking" without care
free, able, eager, ready, and

willing to dare
daubing, muddying, and wading 
metrical feet into stream
of consciousness (think)
metaphorical earthenware
placid figurative smooth as glassware
reflecting mine mien
mean disheveled hare
reed state of swiftly tailored body,
mind and spirit long

acclimated, accompanied, 
and accustomed
with mental, physical,
and spiritual malfunctions
ever since birth,
(or even in utero), where
biological mutations did interfere
easily availing self
as token "scapegoat
school kids did taunt and jeer

futilely screeching nevertheless
targeted and doomed killdeer
lamely seeking safety, albeit laughable
pencil necked geek longhair
donned as outdated "hippie"
lame excuse for cheesy mouseketeer
every day of younglife (mine) wanted
me "mommy dearest" near,
cuz yours truly
felt like kin outlier

one lonely human
being within alienation
forever seeking salvation
courtesy wing and prayer
ill fitting analogous to round hole
raised to accept unconventional
credo, gospel (according
to Matthew) mores as quare
figurative peg thus revere
ring boyhood, because

growing up scare
re: especially as
undersized withdrawn tear
huff eyed little lad
donning monogrammed  underwear
“enlightenment touché”
honoring inimitable Voltaire where
he unabashedly espoused
freedom of religion, 
freedom of expression, 
and separation of church and state.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Is It True

Is it true that the 'best and the brightest'
have set their minds against America, that
the protestors want to tear it down not build 
it up? Is it true that they are the real patriots,
the ones who want to refashion this country
to live up to its claims as a land of opportunity
for one and all? Is it true that these self-assured
people are the wave of the future, and that 
"Nothing can stop 'their great ideas,' whose 
time has come?"

Well they certainly are neither the best nor
the brightest.  To fall for communism, or any
of its forms, which have been proven over and
over again for the past 125 years to be the 
death knell of those unfortunate countries 
which have adopted them--- Is that bright?!
Listening to protestors' ideas carefully will reveal
how they actually would deny opportunity to the 
very folks they claim to want to help: Defunding
the police, and eliminating prisons and courts of 
law will forever doom the hopes of people 
residing in our inner-city neighborhoods, who
will be at the mercy of the shooters and drug-
dealers... And are their 'great ideas' the wave 
of the future?  They are if you really think our 
once-great universities have a chance of sur-
viving should they continue to unabashedly 
promote a radical agenda.  

Get a grip, America and Americans! Come to
your senses.  Restore the idea of 'One Nation
Under God. --- Under God, and not under the
allure of every youth movement that comes
along to overturn centuries of hard-won 
experience grounded in Faith, Good Deeds, 
and Wise Parental Guidance.  May we all live
to see the Dawn of a Brighter Day tomorrow!


Killing Time While Homebound Until

'Killing" time while homebound until...,
a cure gets distilled and/ or found
for pandemic, thus... I expound.

(Yupper - courtesy coronavirus CORVID-19),
how ja guess my good smear it in friend?! -
within Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania
toyed with thought to withhold or send
hmm... perhaps superstitious end
synonym with ominous trend,
methinks hoop fully auspicious,

and synonym with propitious will not abend
mine luckless mien kampf,
cuz the latter two similar lend
heft well woolworth
their weight in gold - words,
would moost notably, likely, 
and heavily portend

toward disastrous, disadvantageous, disharmonious...
to Matthew Scott Harris,
whose time on Earth would
uninhibitedly, uneventfully, and unabashedly end
(ous ending intimating "possessing, full of...")
in this case foreboding...,
yours truly rendered permanently

incapacitated to offend
sense and sensibilities
honorable sacred tenets to poetics
tantamount to committing sacrilegious sin
if hypothetically practiced orthodox church goer,
and believer in reincarnation legend.

No matter getting cremated
(ha - of course after I die -)
good one, though... ha) crafting epitaph,
impossible mission to claim alibi,
while on leave from life,

and into cerulean heavenly sky
of course this guy would never lie
even in jest..., though all joking aside,
now tis golden opportunity well nigh
to compose obituary (mine of course),

one garden variety 
(veggie burger eater) generic guy
who... doth not fear death, nor shy
about bidding permanent goodbye
to sordid vices that
DO NOT (no way) apply

to yours truly, he coon sitters himself...
well rather ho hum, (especially as singer -
for Curmudgeon Dummkopf Ensemble
(also known as the all star Schlemiel band),
no idea, I cannot explain why.

It's raining

Her big beautiful eyes were piercing me up and close
Her playful smile playing all over, vainly trying to prepare me
But, as always, in a trance I lay, heart pounding, mind blanked out.
Completely unaware of everything, except her unabashedly gorgeous presence.
Moments passed, without a word, without an act
Didn't know it was that typical lull before the storm
And then it stormed down, here, there and everywhere 
Voluptuous kisses, first gently in isolation and then unending showers.
Me taken completely by surprise, pinned, breathless, overwhelmed.
But, at the same time, enjoying the wildness, the ecstasy, the euphoria.
To get drenched in the first flush of rain, I guess, is always memorable.
'It's raining!' my little one exclaims, and I nod, struggling to look out.
© Vijai Pant  Create an image from this poem.

All These Things That I'Ve Done

Mistakes lead to progress and progress is part of life 
No matter how big a mess nor how deep such strife
Thinking of the future in focusing on what's at hand
I'll tell you for sure, in God there's nothing too grand

When those people were hungry Jesus fed them all
He made the blind see and helped many who'd fall
Told by those He led who had witnessed so much
Heard the Words Jesus said in so feeling His Touch

So as I lay broken humbly kneeling on broken knees
I hear the Words He's Spoken responding to my pleas
Where I could only see darkness feeling such bitter cold
Each time He would Bless as I continued in growing old

Don't let your past hold you back, only wanting you near
Knowing already what you lack there needn't be any fear
Stand over your mistakes unabashedly calling them your own
The Lord will repair those aches, least that's how I've grown
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Rally Ho

The crowd dots the cavernous hall,
colorfully scatter like a box of fallen jujubes,
a virtual confetti of humanity
with hoots and catcalls, the ruckus roar.

The politicians venture forth unabashedly;
prancing and pandering for chump change
like circus bears on their hind legs,
drool running from the corners of their painted mouths,
captured on camera.

Well-worn platitudes slide through the ether;
wrapped in the crisp new cellophane of twenty-first century jargon
thinly guised in the aroma of hot buttered popcorn;
the moronic masses roar, 
behind the orange flames 
of plastic lighters.

* The Nader convention Green Part canidacy 2000 Radio City New York.

Premium Member My Hair


As a teenager, I was so lean and lanky.
My mother worried over my physical stature.
She believed that all the nutrients in my diet,
were rapaciously devoured by my hair.

From childhood onwards, I had long, thick hair
that cascaded down my back like a jumping cataract. 
Each time I got ready for school in my uniform,
my mom had trouble plaiting it into two pigtails.
After school, it took much of my time to tease apart the strands,
release and unbind, what my mom had so neatly done.

She wanted to cut my hair short, I too agreed 
as it took so long for me to have my hair dried after every bath.
(It was a time when we had not even heard of hair dryers!)

When I conveyed my mom’s decision to my friends,
they said in unison- “Your long hair is your sole attraction,
we are all jealous of you for it. If you cut it
you’ll be like a sheep after its fleece is sheared, 
Oh, so ugly”

My hair was straight like stick, black and glossy without even a curve.
I was so upset about it as curly hair was what everyone preferred,
in a village without the ‘refinement’ and sophistications of urban life.

After every long journey, I had to spend hours clearing the tangles of my hair.

When I entered college, my hair became my distinguishing mark.
All referred to me as ‘the girl with long hair’ and it became my identity.
Girls from cities had begun frequenting parlours for straightening their hair
I was happy I had natural straight hair without recourse to artificial means
Thus, for the first time, I began feeling proud of my hair.
I spent hours before the mirror, admiring my hair and tying it in styles, varied.
Also started wearing it with my chin up and flaunting it unabashedly.

When I joined college as a lecturer, I could hear exclamations of ‘wow’
from my students, whenever I turned to the black board to write something,
and my silly feminine heart fluttered in vanity like a peacock.

Before long, silver threads began to peek here and there.
When they came in one and two, I plucked them away.
But Time, like a mischievous imp began to play nasty games.
In a couple of years, I was all grey and now I thrive on hair dye.
Indeed, a messy job!  To make things easy I have cut my hair short.

Sad, my mother is not there to see me in short hair!
Form: Other

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