Long Uneventful Poems
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Yours truly an aging baby boomer
long haired pencil necked geek
trademark disheveled characteristics
whipsawed ever faster around sun.
He (best buddy and alter ego of mine)
snapped, popped, and crackled
firstly his crown out cervix
subsequently skinny arms and legs
(I'll spare ye the bloody graphics),
whence obstetrician able, eager, and
ready underscored with italics
to pronounce hosannas
regarding garden variety
generic wrinkled newborn
emerging out birth canal
asthma noggin heralded
scrawny newborn, now celebrating lxiii
plus deux orbits around nearest star,
which birth sported an ordinary
uneventful, nonetheless miraculous
biological secrete heave reproductive tricks
immediately screaming
without assistance courtesy
Gran Prix (now pronounced as pricks)
also envision Dolby surround sound
nsync with spastic kicks
'o mine straggly mostly
gangly lovely bones mox nix.
Within some nondescript building
named The Christ Hospital
location Mount Auburn
Cincinnati, Ohio
(the buckeye state)
record number C57587
gingerly handled courtesy
Doctor James Mackay McCord
(ushering none other than me
into the wide webbed world)
bestowed upon bosom of Harriet Harris,
thy young mother of prolonged labor
as his bony ass easily
slipped out uterine crypt,
whereby with Vernix
caseosa, the waxy or cheese
he appeared made rather dipped
in tallow, thence unexpectedly whipped
minuscule fist ready to bump.
Moments - Chantelle Smith (26 September 2025)
Moments can be magical
and some quite mementos.
Moments can be dramatic,
and the quite uneventful.
Its moments that make the world go round
Incredibly fast or awfully slow.
Moments may pass by and pass on,
and some may come and never leave,
Never really moving on.
There are moments of laughter,
and there are moments of pain.
Moments of love and moments of hate.
Words said in a moment,
you wish you could erase
and then there are moments
you wish would stay.
Moments of stillness,
there are those moments too.
What was your last moment,
what moment are you going through?
As someone said tomorrow is not promised
So today, lets live our moments in the present
living fully, in each and every one.
To remember numbers
He had visited a town in Spain famous for a tall church spire
the inside of the church was a cavern of despair and promises not fulfilled.
Now he waited outside for the coach to take him to the airport
it was delayed, so he walked into a bar for a beer.
When he came out, 5 bottles of beer later, the coach had gone
he had to take a taxi to the airport.
A cash machine nearby, but he had forgotten the code,
asked a man behind him for his and was met with a blank stare.
A building, at the edge of the town, he was told it has all the codes of the world on a
ledger chained to a desk.
He asked the clerk for his code giving the clerk his
identification papers and passport were handed the code in a brown envelope.
The taxi to the airport was uneventful, but the ride was of no avail the plane had
lifted off, so he had another beer.
My EarthMom used to stand easy
at our kitchen sink,
looking out across our fertile backyard
vegetable garden,
Rising from humbly short
but brilliantly red/green
bodhisattva radishes
inside white but spicy,
not the least bit sweet privileged
with vanilla nonperformance,
To the back soldier rows
of sweaty yellow corn,
husky green
and stalky tall
militaristic Northern erections
toward seductive southern sunlight,
While my WaterBearer
SeedPushing
WeedPulling Mom
leisurely savors cold well water
drinking away thirst
from her misty blue metal cup.
One uneventful summer hot afternoon,
this solitary woman time
industriously revisited
until deeply worn into secular purpose
out of sacred meaning,
without turning toward gay son me,
or any other optional auditory audience,
She reconsiders the Messiah's most mysterious miracle
to her open
but first and last questing mind
was turning well water
into wine.
"I've tasted patriarchal wine,
For quenching
my life's returning thirst
for wet youth
and sacred beauty
and satisfying truth;
I don't believe it's an improvement."
While I didn't admit
thinking it hungrily unfit
here neither
too airy there,
I'm not so fairy brownbred sure
about lasting mindbody health
with those cheap white capitalist wafers
either.
Betrayal
I bet you feel happy
I bet you feel crappy
I bet you feel snappy
I bet you feel uncanny,
Being without the family
I’m sorry I feel this way
Maybe I’ll pray away the pain
I just want you to stay
Baby, I’ll stray away the disdain
I let you go, I get you’re fine
I let you win and share the wine
I let you be within your walls
You almost always answer my calls
But…I feel so much betrayal in store
You betrayed the family and more
By your heartless decisions
And fulfilling selfish missions
Fretful as ever
I never get better,
So don’t make me feel better
I am a regretter…a black and blue sweater
You meddled with our feelings and memories as bitterness grows
You made us feel a hundred degrees above and below as it shows
Painful laughter is what I see
You drained the good energy
Uneventful disaster you brought upon us, upon us, us
Yet you heal those in need beside the ones below the bus
I can’t believe you let us grieve
Without a tourniquet of relief
You just want me to simply leave
Then, stay here with you? That’s beyond belief that you’re behind the times of my ever-glowing, ever-growing grief
I bet you should feel
But, you’re unfeeling sometimes
I bet you would deal
with Judgement Day for your selfish crimes
My love for my dad, this is how this pen goes, I often
speculate often to myself about his whereabouts? My
love for my dad.
Vague memories, and his lack of presence in my childhood
Dad, I'm sure you attempted to do your best. My love for
My dad.
Overwhelmed with questions about the unknown of uneventful circumstances, situations beyond's a innocent
child I plead not guilty, A letter to my dad
I often question myself was I at fault? Why wasn't always
in my life, My love for my dad.
My childhood I was very curious and say to myself
that I could fix my parents situation and play the game
Parent trap that backfired, My love for my dad.
Life has been full of challenges and defeats dad did try.
My love for my dad.
Our recall our last conversation he mentioned to me that the Bible stands for basic, instructions, before leaving, earth. My love for my dad.
Then I received a dreadful phone that my dad has transitioned, that still reminds me until this day. My
love for my dad.
Time’s Arrow Flies and Yet Seems to Stand Still
(On Valentine’s Day, 2022)
This dull and uneventful day, in memory
Of the love-forsaken Saint,
As heavy rain beats dull, relentless,
Syncopated rhythms on the windowpanes,
I’m sitting here again, composing
Awkward lines to rhyme with images,
Exploring forking paths of thoughts
Through dense and dark, elusive woods of words,
The endless, hopeless quest for what I want to say,
In search of something solid, something still.
My thoughts stray off those worn-out paths to you,
So far away. As reveries race through my mind,
I find myself lost in a maze of memories,
Traces of our lives together, all that’s left
Of you and me. Searching for the better times,
Forgetting all the bitter times. But memories cannot
Erase or change reality, the crushing, catastrophic
Lies, deceit, and infinite regret.
I don’t ask for forgiveness, And I know
you can’t forget. Still, I hold out hope
That somewhere, somehow, on our separate journeys
Through this raging sea of feelings, at some as yet
Uncertain point for you and me, our parallel paths
May once more fuse together, and you might see
How much we really care, how rich our lives could be,
With love that cannot kill us both, but only sets us free.
Swath of pristine tractless snow white landscape...
tell tale sign where
winter storm Demi left her mark.
Beautiful and bountiful visual scene
(seldom seen around
tri-state geographic area
for quite a few years,
where temperate global warming
spelled unseasonably warm winters)
trumps the inauguration
for breathtaking view.
Immaculate conception birthed
awesome aesthetic spectacular
blinding heavenly creation.
I feel humbled
as an infinitesimal know nothing
wrought into existence
courtesy billions of years
evolutionary fits and starts,
and will exit stage door left
barely impacting the cosmic schema.
Memories accumulated across
six plus decades astride oblate spheroid
upon sixty plus shades of gray matter
sights and sounds transiently,
yet indelible impressions lasted a lifetime
eventually taken to the grave,
(or rather more eco-friendly crematorium),
which lovely bones once reduced to ashes
will leave nary a trace videre licet,
where joys and sorrows
dwelt within mine temple mount
unbeknownst to humanity
unless one attests to spiritus mundi
housing each and every personal record
that livingsocial (and more often
as an egalitarian, latitudinarian, proletarian,
solitudinarian, and unitarian) did emboss,
though uneventful existence,
would find any incorporeal passerby to gloss
tittering at reputation as spindleshanks
no doubt resulting
where chromosomes and genes
of interspecie breeding did intercross,
yet leaving some lucky *****sapiens
descendents of simian forebears
with eye catching physical characteristics
cases in point Heidi Kloss
or the waifish
former supermodel Kate Moss
testimony that either the former
or latter pleasing specimens
fortified with raw bits,
(and maybe even smattering
Norwegian bachelor farmers
big strapping men's bloodline
rumored heifer and angus outcross),
whose claim to eternal fame popularized,
and brought them renown fame
linkedin to "aphrodisiac hidden oomph"
of powder milk biscuits) sic erat scriptum.
On lazy uneventful afternoons
I sometimes venture into the quiet haven
that is my occupied mind as if a voice
in the wilderness beckoned me there.
It's always my favorite place to go...
on a day in disarray to contemplate
and expunge impurities that swirl inside
my head. I would sit beneath a tree as I trap
myself in the undertow of reverie,
submerging in the depth of serene solitude.
I go woolgathering on certain afternoons
in the meadow of my mind, listening to
the wondrous cacophonies of nature.
How delightful the mellifluous sounds
of chirping birds? The rustling of leaves?
Myriad of memories I long laid to bed
would spring awake as soon as I close my eyes
My thoughts would swing like a pendulum
between the past and the future.
It's amazing how much the mind can hold!
A miscellany of thoughts would continue to rage
as I linger there lost in the arresting scenery,
taking in the invigorating zephyr; how it soothes
my skin! It's the most beautiful escape
from the chaotic here and now
On lazy uneventful afternoons
I oftentimes linger there in meditation,
reluctant to leave such a peaceful oblivion,
but I must. I always do with bright smile
as I open my eyes again to a peaceful world.
Date written: 07/11/2016
Death seizing me one day, mourn me no more,
Let me leave this vain world free from all woes,
Let me go seasons as have from this shore,
And bid goodbye to my soul as it goes.
Quiet a leaf gets born, gets yellowed gray,
No reason why man be so noisiest--
Aloud when born one uneventful day…
Loud again when goes, what a grumbling guest!
And so if ye happen to read these lines,
Life-less when I lie to disintegrate,
Let me leave ‘pon this place no telltale signs,
Let all of my memories dissipate.
Fains if one so chooses to love my pen,
O love the labour of my love if can.
____________________
Sonnet | 12.11.2008 | death, love, memories, pen, poet
Note: This sonnet talks about how a poet wants to be remembered when he dies— like a passing season that goes, no fuss. If at all, love and remember ‘my poems’, more than me.