Long Up his sleeve Poems
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“I am somebody’s child, and I need attention, I am somebody’s child and I need affection, I am somebody’s child and I need love and devotion”, she murmured as she walked through the door. She wasn’t sure where she was going when she left the house; she wasn’t sure about the next encounter, but she walked for five hours until she reaches the border.
The speed, at which she moved, left everyone confused but she was determined to make a point just to stay alive. She did not plan a journey she just wanted to live, and hang out with the daffodils but the trap was already set before they made the bet. She could sense it from within and so she had to learn to swim; with strength in her arms and strides in her feet, she made it through the dark before the break of dawn.
They searched everywhere for her, but they could not find her, the public became aware of it and they start to build a myth. Officer Jones devised a plan to begin the search mission he knew what he had up his sleeve, because he was so hard to please. He had laid the ground work to start digging up dirt, to catch the big fish and throw them back into the ditch, the climate was right and the alibi was riding high in the sky.
The search went on for days with no sight of her abducted in the bush or held captive by the brook; it was just one of those situations where you have to keep on top of things before the universe done you in.
The cheese, and the pie, the crown and the dye were just too reveling so they had to search for another meaning, and the sky was their only hope to keep sailing on the boat and so the narrative changed to give her all the blame.
Was it a crime torn area or someone lost their way and bumped into a criminal flattering in the sky that is a one-hundred-dollar question from a village miner who could not fit the pieces together for the director or the operator.
And so, the question remains, whose back was she trying to cover? My mind wander and wander and it didn’t look like a deal that turned sour, neither was it a set up by gate to discover something before it was too late. Everything seems to be in perfect harmony with the guitar, the piano, the band and the musical director.
The great Gatsby would have won the case if Tom Buchanan had not shot him in the pool over the death of Myrtle Wilson his darling wife. "I am somebody’s child," she screamed.
I Don’t Know What To Say To Katie Clemens
By Steve Body
Copyright 2009
I don’t know what to say to Katie Clemens.
All the words are jumbled in my head.
They all seem small and empty when I think of
The fact of Jacob Clemens lying dead.
Jake Clemens was my best friend and companion,
Grew up together, never parted ways.
I was Huck Finn, he was ol’ Tom Sawyer.
Folks still talk about the hell we raised.
Just today, I hoisted Jake’s pine coffin.
Just last hour, I watched him leave my life.
What kind of sorry man can’t shake these feelings?
How does a true friend love his best friend’s wife?
“Myocardial infarction”, doctors call it.
All of us just said his heart went bust.
Twelve cowboys, stuck ten miles down in a canyon,
Not a medico among the lot of us.
We were just thirteen when we met Katie.
She was younger than us by a year.
But when her big blue eyes spied Jacob Clemens,
Any other suitors disappeared.
That’s the way it was all through our schoolin’.
I guess it’s just how God declared it be.
There were lots of girls along my way here,
But none that mattered very much to me.
Now I sit alone with Katie Clemens,
Stunned by both my loss and my own heart.
Won’t the damned thing finally just stop beatin’?
Just losin’ Jake has torn it full apart,
But Katie, that was never meant to happen.
It never was and never yet will be.
I can’t respect a friend who courts a widow,
And that, by God, will never be for me.
I don’t know what to say to Katie Clemens.
I don’t know how to say goodbye to Jake.
I don’t know what my life will be from here on.
Don’t know how much a man’s supposed take.
We sit here watching dust motes swim in sunlight.
We watch the shadows climbing up the wall.
I say nothing. She says very little.
Both lost in mem’ries painful to recall.
Time flows like a river, poets tell us.
Grief pours down like silver, singers say.
“I’m always here,” she says, “If you should need me.
Jake wouldn’t want it any other way.”
I don’t know what to say to Katie Clemens.
I nod and rise and squeeze her hand and leave.
To start my life alone, a broken cowboy,
Who wears his heart not on but up his sleeve.
ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING
My husband had a restaurant
For thirty two years,
Much frustration, kitchen hell
And staff in tears.
The Oasis was a place to dine
Of note,
When exhausted, we drove down,
To the coast and surfed the waves on our boat.
He was renown,
From Limpopo, to Cape Town!
But the time had come to relax a bit,
So he could read the daily newspaper,
And actually sit!
We sold the Oasis, renovated
Our kitchen so it could be his
Own place,
And of course space,
Where I am occasionally allowed
To show my face,
But only to make dessert or taste,
And with a kiss of somewhat haste,
Retreat to let him do his
Own thing,
And enjoy an absolute kitchen
Fling!
He cooks with his hands, soul and
And heart,
And he always dresses for the part,
Be it kitchen hand, chef or
Restaurateur,
He is, and always has been an excellent,
Interpreter,
Of any recipe as far as Beijing,
In fact he can cook anything,
From any Nation, culture or creed,
He has a flair that none can
Exceed!
And looks so cute,
In his dinner suit!
It’s time to serve dinner in style,
Which takes a while,
First he lights candles, then gives
Me a hug,
Pours me wine from our silver jug,
Serves us both and eventually
Sits down.
He had previously told me to
Dress in a comfortable gown,
I guessed he had some surprise
Up his sleeve,
For it was the eve,
Of our Wedding Anniversary.
A bell rings, it’s our front door,
There stands a chauffeur and behind
Him a limousine ,
I still didn’t know what was in store.
Until, the limosine turned towards
the airport,
My husband had packed my suitcase,
And brought my passport,
We board a plane and then he
Discloses,
To me with a bunch of roses,
That we were off to Mauritius for a week,
And, gives me a kiss on each cheek.
He had asked the pilot to please hide,
The roses, everything was so beautifully planned,
I just cried!
Happy Anniversary darling, he said.
I also had a surprise for him,
For he filled my life with such
Happiness, to the brim,
But I would keep this secret until
We arrived,
Happy Anniversary sweetheart
I replied!
I could see the way you look at him when he sat down in that chair, all the life had gone out of him and he collapse on the ground looking at the sky above moving around but the man in the cloud was not there to rescue him. He thought he had captured it, and his heart was yearning for it, he wanted to run his personal best, but his body was too stiff to fight out the rest .I saw the way you look at him as if you had mesmerize his thinking and cloud his vision. I saw the way you look at him as if you had cast a terrible spell over him; he was just staring at you as if he had a hold on you but the power of the universe was keeping him strong. He powered out of the starting block with all the energy that he has got, moving like a horse on a race track when all of a sudden the pack starts running away from him and he was trailing in the back, I saw him running his personal best but the fleet was ready to show the universe the best, I was cheering for him but those on the back stretch was closing in and when they passed him around the bend, I feel heaven walking all over my head; all of a sudden I saw a light aircraft in the sky hovering over him secretly in the cloud as if it was on a assignment to get him. He kept running with all the courage in him but the gold and the silver was swinging in front and he try to find that final speed but his body was telling him that life is real. The race was over and he found himself lying on the ground staring on the bronze medal dangling in his hand and the crowd cheering him on.I saw the way you look at him when the fastest man captured the gold and the way the story was told, he started out on a mission to win but gravity held his speed and your passion soften his zeal, his body gets weak because your love was all over him and that was not the best medicine for him. The gold medal was wrapped up in banner in his hand and the clouds in the skies carried him safely along. I saw the way you look at him as if you have a story to tell him but faith pushes courage up his sleeve and the universe honor his zeal.
Tom's Cat Tom
by Joan Donnelly Ellis (intended as a picture story book for children)
Some cats are really ugly and others are really cute, like mine, Bart. Bart can be bad though. He is sometimes up to no good. One day he ate my dad's goldfish. Bart likes goldfish. They don't like him back.
Wanna know something funny? My friend, Tom Murphy has a Tom Cat that he named Tom after himself. Tom gets bored a lot and so does his lazy cat, Tom. He just lies on the couch all day. At least that is what I first thought., that the cat was lazy, you know. Then I started to observe him more closely. After a week or so I realized the feline just pretends to be sleeping but he really doesn't close his eyes all the way shut. I think he is not as lazy as he makes out to be. Often it seems that the cat Tom is engaged in serious contemplation. He might be planning some mischief. Yes, Tom has something up his sleeve I decided and as soon as he's left alone in the house BAM! He'll be off getting into trouble . Last time he was left alone the Murphy's and I believe Tom terrorized San Quentin, the Parrot. We found a mess of Quent's feathers in his cage and on the floor below. Not only that but whenever the cat Tom was near Quent would make frightening noises. I told Tom, my friend , not his cat, that we ought to get those fellows from Forensic Files to do an investigation. Tom didn't like the idea much. Said he didn't think ruffling a few feathers was a serious crime.
I glanced at Quent who was curled up on the window seat and I swear he had a "Nice Try" smirk on his face as he glared back at me . In response, I
walked to the kitchen, and lifted Quent's Temptation Treats from the counter.
He jumped off the window seat and hurried to the kitchen. As he gazed lovingly at me with his bright green eyes, I stepped on the peddle of the trash can. When the lid opened I dumped the treats in and closed the lid. Some kids are really ugly and others are really cute. Since I'm a bird lover, I don't give a hoot.
Form:
He was overwhelmed with greif when he got the news that I would not be returning any time soon, tears began to flow and anxiety began to grow. He has been planning this meeting for the past five years but every day the date keep changing and the appointment keeps falling into thin air.
Christmas and thanks giving was set aside for the visit, the table was set, the guest were invited but when evening came everyone was greeted with shame. They were left into the dark to have their supper without that special guest.
I can imagine how it feel when your heart is growing and your spirit is soaring and you want to sing but the words cannot come out; you have to work up courage and shout it from a distance.
He wasn’t sure who to believe but reality was crawling up his sleeve and his heart began to bleed. I just didn’t know how to console him, I could only try to smile with him and hope that the moment would go away and lead me unto a different path, what was there to prove, when you want to move and this thing is holding back.
You climb the short tree and the temperate keeps rising to a hundred degree and the fire truck keeps swirling around the town to keep the temperature down. And the music keeps playing aloud. You climb the Tall tree and your backyard is flooded with misery, the rain can’t stop falling and the rivers can’t stop flowing and the markets can’t stop growing and everything comes alive at midnight and you can witnessed the miracle in broad daylight.
I have to find a balance between the tall and the short so that I don’t left wandering in the dark. I have to find a balance between the hot and the cold so that my spirit can be at peace before I grow old and I can make that long anticipated journey to end that woeful curiosity.
I have to find that balance to grow the economy and build a successful community. Hot or cold, tall or short, you must combine them to make a new start. Don’t despair, the way is now clear and I am coming to see you.
Quiet save for a morning glory’s cue
Daylight decks the sky cerulean blue
Sunday and like the hues of color wheels
Old Man Dan hunts for all his fishing creels
The rye grass cradles tiny spheres of dew
Dawn fishing allures in lieu of a pew
Like osmosis, moisture fills his old boots
As the last morning owl gives a few hoots
Trout Royal Red is already awake
Waiting for Dan in the depths of the lake
Three pounds of beauty, paint on his sleek back
Royal Red knew what the old man might lack
Sharpen arsenal now, fish where it’s dim
You know he will not dare bite on a whim
And Old Man Dan has a trick up his sleeve
His light-tinted fly spent two weeks to weave
His tackle befit with two pound test line
No wet or dry flex just regular twine
No weights to be used, tossed from the jetty
The fly should track the natural eddy
From his boat he tossed his new-fangled bait
So natural the drift only to wait
Red spied his game moving at the right speed
Closer he came from behind the tall reed
He strictly examined his tasty prey
For t’was a real bug, it would have to pay
Closer he came to the well-tied disguise
Knowing full well it could be his demise
Soft and ductile he gave it a small bite
Then Old Dan jerked with all of his might
Royal Red noticed a slight scent of snuff
Then spit out the fly aware of the stuff
Old Dan fell overboard with all his gear
The only thing left – a pain in his rear
This comical scene smacked of déjà vu
He had been there before - a time or two
Red took a break aside the still water
Smiling inside providing Dan fodder
Eyeing Dan’s canoe tarry upside down
He sped swiftly to hide from his mad clown
Madder than hops Dan drug his boat home
Cussing and swearing he took on a foam
He would come back the next date of the sun
Certainly it would be his day of fun
Something is amidst
There's foul play
It doesn't add up
The numbers are way off.
Yet, here we are
Shaking in fear
Seeing a country
Stabbed in the chest
As crimson blood
0Stains the nation.
There's no way
That it was decided
From the get-go
Not all the votes are tallied
Not every ballot is accounted
There's trickery at bay.
We're not taking this sitting down.
We ain't gonna roll over
We ain't gonna bow to a clown
Who has no right to wear a crown?
This is our country
This is our nation
These are our people
These are our lives
That he's playing with.
Now's not the time to panic
Now's the time to act
Now's the time to rise up
Now's the time to fight.
We won't concede
We won't bow
We won't give in
We won't break.
This is our fight
This is our right
To expose the truth
Hidden under the lies.
Bomb threats to states
Ballot boxes ablaze
Missing votes still searching
The numbers don't add up.
We had the endorsement
For Harris's campaign
Everyone turned against Trump,
but he had a trick up his sleeve
To turn the tide, but I believe it's time
To turn this ship before it hits an iceberg.
We ain't sitting down
We ain't backing out
We're gonna stand up
We're gonna fight back
We're gonna get custody
Of our liberty and rights.
This is our fight
This is our song
Let our voices roar
Be heard across the world
Ring out through the night
This is the time to fight.
Expose the lies
Bring truth to light
Let the beast be tamed
Cage him and his buddies away
Put Harris back in her rightful place
Let freedom ring for a new America.
Time to rise up
Time to stand up
No backing out
Fight for your rights
This is our time
To turn it around.
For our children's futures
For women's rights
For our dreams and hopes
For our country
It's time to begin
A new revolution.
'Why so serious?'
He would say as he started to walk my way.
He wears a purple over coat,
His face as white as a ghost.
Always has a smile beaming from ear to ear
Laughing like a maniac till his eyes are full of tears
Who is this mad man with hair of green
he is the creepiest thing I've ever seen
He always seems to have a trick up his sleeve
Along with many different weapons' like you wouldn't believe
Spreading uncontrollable chaos trying to put on a show
Committing crimes where ever he goes
How did this criminal mastermind come to be?
What drove him mad to reach the point of insanity?
Some say he fell into a tank of chemicals that drove him insane
Others say it was the loss of his wife and unborn child
Whatever it was it caused him a lot of pain
It seems like he was already unsteady
Close to that breaking point, slightly losing his mind already
Maybe he was never really okay
All it took was a little push over the edge
And we got the Joker we have today
Entered in the premiere contest, Superhero or Supervillain
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Placement: 3rd
The King of Trumpland
From TV land and a brash hotel
Appeared a huckster who lived to sell
Dreams to those who longed to hear
A voice free of bull, pity and fear,
Selling the dream of a new frontier,
He renamed America 'Trumpland'
He sold them a pup, many still knew
In their hearts of hearts - but what could they do?
A new power was rising, far to the east;
Trump took aim and fired – he’d slay the beast!
For he of all men was scared the least,
War fortified the King of Trumpland
The King cried 'first we retaliate,
Abandon all compromise, seal their fate!'
Then vast smoke mushrooms came into view
Over Pyong Yang and Beijing, Australia too;
In Korea millions died, though they never knew
Of the glorified King of Trumpland
The war was over – men cried with relief,
‘We stood up and were counted for our belief’;
The sky grew darker, black as the night;
The King was roaring 'we won the fight
And beat the aggressor with our military might!'
They deified the King of Trumpland
Then out of nowhere, a mighty blast,
Five million souls breathed their last,
Shocked generals stared from ship and car -
Korean missiles reached this far??!!
They struck at the heart of the stripes and stars
And the petrified King of Trumpland?
The King had one more trick up his sleeve,
He’d leave the people to mourn and grieve;
When last seen he'd reached the coast
Having been relieved of his regal post,
As a second bomb made millions more ghosts
For the mortified King of Trumpland
The next war will be fought with sticks and stones,
Bows and arrows and broken bones;
On Capitol Hill crowds mourn their loss
In single file past the wooden cross,
Where they take their aim and angrily toss
Rocks - at the crucified King of Trumpland