Long Up to the top Poems

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Premium Member Strike Three

If we listen to the wind will we hear the call?
What of the years we spent “Back against the wall”

Years they come and they go “All is the same”
When you find yourself with a number for a name

First they load you on a bus in a paper suit
Making jokes with the homeboys “Bro you sure are cute”

Then comes the dreaded ride on the prison bus
Transport guards let you know “Don’t even mess with us”

You finally reach R&R really quite the treat
“I don’t care what you need I said take a seat”

As 5 minutes passes by you think of all the years
Getting set in your mind to face all your fears

You do the things that you must do in order to survive
Unless your one of the unlucky ones who doesn’t make it out alive

You don’t even realize that you are overwhelmed with hate
As the day finally comes and you make it out the gate

Then your back on the streets as healthy as can be
Hooking up the party life like when you were free

Just as though some real smart dude planned this to design
Because of the number on your back you are right back doing time

Then you catch a second term and this one is a strike
Nothing new ahead of you it’s just like riding a bike

Soon as you hit the yard you fall into your routine
Everyday like the one before one hell of a bad dream

Then again you are released but nothing is as it seems
Because your life has turned into one long desperate dream

You are driven by a desire to rise up to the top
For some reason that desire just won’t seem to stop

Even though your doing well against everything you feel
You go against your heart and soul to conjure up a deal

As the pitcher takes the mound you step to the plate
Problem is he’s throwing hard and you are swinging late

You want so bad to hit the ball as it whizzes by
You hang your head full of dread with no tears left to cry

Now you’re back in the cell with an L and 37 years
Maybe now you’ll have the time to face all those fears

The year’s forever come and go like dust in the wind
The only thing that I know “I sure do miss my friend”


I dedicate this poem to my dear friend
who is currently fighting the California
three strikes law for his life. If you
could please hold him in prayer thank you.
       Jesse (REDMAN) Wasson
Form: Couplet


Touch My Finger On the Golden Pen

I been trying to pen this verse for days but  the words could not come out
My tears have been welled up inside me and my arms were twisted behind me
my flesh clinged firmly  to my thin bones while drones flew fearlessly  around
I can still hear their deceptive voices  talking above me as they were getting ready to apprehend me
They circled around me and cast a rusty chains upon my flesh and shoved me into a broken carriage and parade me up and down the town until  we ended up in Freetown
I still did not understand what was going on until I stood at an open window
and spoke to the woman who stared at me with a subtle frown.
I went to retrieve my  towed truck and there he was standing behind the counter in a red T-shirt with bleeding eyes  staring at me and immediately I could see wickedness all around
He handed me a bill that was highly impossible for all that had happened 
His  aggressive eyes crossed my spiritual eyes and the holy spirit began to speak
I was chucked away once more and shoved into a sweltering car without a clue as to what was going on
I was placed in a room with other people that were held up for days
And I could sense malpractice from the bottom bubbling up to the top
The innocent was tucked away into a hole with no way of getting out because they could not pay their way
I listened to everyone's story and it was a pity that this was happening in America in the twenty first century 
Many people are suffering and hurting inside while we are gallivant on the outside 
The pastor took me back to my towed truck and I was forced to pay  what I could not afford
I went outdoors to buy colored  paper to post  Gods messages
but something sinister was happening on the other side and I was caught up in it
Heaven was on my side I defied all the odds to get the message out until she finally broke the glass window 
The next day I could breathe fresh air  and the God in heaven finally appeared
the moon moves between the earth and the sun briefly turning day into night
Darkness suddenly faded  away and  a bright light radiated over  the message truck  and illuminate  it with a powerful light sealing it with the moon and sun energy 
And there it was I touched my finger on the golden pen and we are  all free to live again.
Form: Narrative

Viva La Morning Sun

Viva la morning sun


Midnight, dark night, no light, can’t go.
So dark, so quiet, so I guess the neighbours are not home.
Waiting for sleep to arrive, but it never does on time.
Still waiting to permanently close my eyes;
But match sticks under baggy eye lids,
Will not show me the peaceful dreams I need to find.


Brain storms while outside it is silent.
Not a raindrop in the air.
Sun will rise shortly, as will the neighbours;
They all arise without a care.
I will hear their alarms and the beeping of their cars
And each and every door they all slam, God damn!


Muffled music drives away and I am left with clinking milk bottles.
How I hate to hear the milk man moving in full throttle.
The bin men arrive flashing their ‘vehicle is reversing’ lights.
I close my eyes, but they peek around the curtain…sigh.
People are busy nattering and I am left sinking;
There is no calling for the postman singing.
The birds have not even got their song books out yet,
Because there is too much noise, for all their rehearsing.


Now I arise from the deep pit in which I dwell.
The zombie arisen, the power button pressed, another day of Hell.
In a state of half-dress the violins begin,
Quietly at first, but soon a full orchestra of noise;
A cup of tea is soon ready to drink.
This symphony would wake the whole neighbourhood,
If it wasn’t for all the toys and work, which mean they are already up.


The din would be said to be deafening, ironic,
If I cared to hear those muggles out there, but today is supersonic
And the strings are rising up to the top of the planet,
And I am drifting within the music’s magic.


I am taken away to a classical age,
Where maidens play while in-waiting in castles.
The beer is served in tankards,
Meat ripped with fists and soldiers prepare for battle.
This warrior mind has no strength for a Queen,
The zenith passed, the air up here is so clean
And now the end of the song approaches
And with a whimper, I remember, the line of forgotten roaches…


I raise to my height, now at full length, a citizen.
Viva la revolution!  I am at one with creation.
Hello Earth and morning sun!
Let me feel your warmth…my morning divine, my elation.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
© Aa Harvey  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Bio

Premium Member Depression Steals Real Lives

Depression kills
Real lives.
Depression steals
Real lives.
Self-punishment
Is not the answer.
Self-fulfillment
Is the profound desire
To love oneself, to be proud,
To hope and to cry out loud
That happiness and success
Are waiting near the corner.
Suicide is evidently not the answer.
Joy can neutralize anxiety, anguish and anger.
Depression is a bad disease, take it seriously.
Nothing is simplistic, simple or easy
In life.  Stay active, keep your mind busy;
So your spirit can soar to the moon
And come back safe and sound. Be a spoon
Full of hope, love and sweet honey
Which can tickle and energize body and soul.
Trial and error is not bad, not failure, only a fool
Will think so. The best is yet to come, tomorrow. Easy
Come, easy go, and easy know. That’s the reality
Of everyday life. Success is definitely relative.
Keep on looking forward like a stubborn bee.
Be strong and not be overly sensitive.
Be naturally optimistic. The past is full of flaws
And every day is a new season for fresh flowers.
Even when the proverbial glass is empty,
A few drops of rain may accidentally
Fill it up to the top, to the periphery,
Completely to the brim,
Obviously to the rim.
Hope is not expensive.
Everybody has hope.
Anybody can hope.
Hope is extensive.
Hope can destroy depression,
Evil or ill feelings and isolation.
Use your words to soothe the pain.
Be your best friend all the time. Be vain
To protect and to celebrate your life,
And you’ll be able to defeat any strife.
Conquer yourself, while doing so,
You’ll surely escape or defeat the undertow.
Danger is certainly everywhere.
Be attentive and be not afraid to dare.
Strike depression early to make it feeble or vincible,
As you seek more help, aid or support.
You’ll definitely be safe and untouchable,
Before the ship leaves the harbor, the port.
Danger is always lurking somewhere,
Be resilient! Suicide is not the answer.
You can defeat depression.
You can always find a solution.
Take depression seriously.
Be a spoonful of hope, self-love and sweet honey!

Copyright © January 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.

Quest For Internity Jeff Bezo

The quest for eternity (Jeff Bezos)

He awoke under the bed; it had been his birthday 
and had drunk champagne and eaten Danish pastry
He stretched, feeling stiff, walked to the kitchen, opened 
the fridge took out cheese, tomatoes, butter and 
A bottle of beer, which thirstily drank.
The cleaning lady had been everything was in order
but wondered where guests had gone and when they left
The house was quiet, not a sound from the street
looking out, he saw cars stopped, some with open doors
like they had been abandoned in haste, must be something 
important going on, he thought, walked into the bathroom
had a shower and shaved.
In a bakery/café, he had a sandwich and coffee, which he had
to make himself since no one was around
It dawned on him people had left for a reason unknown 
and everything, cars, cigarettes and beer, was free and only
For him to enjoy.
A Rolls Royce that had belonged to the mayor stood in the street
as he had never driven an expensive car before he started 
The car, what smooth ride, he thought, but where are the people?
At the plaza, he saw a dog that looked like the one he had
many years ago, called the cur’s name, but it growled at him
and ran away, frightened of him.
At an expensive restaurant walked into the kitchen, made
a good meal, and drank fine wine without worrying about paying.
The dog came in, to all friendly now understanding it had 
to stick with this person to be fed.
Months went by, he had everything, but he had nothing there
no change, days were the same, he lost interest 
in himself stopped shaving and bathing and wore the same pants
and shirt every day as time was endless no point doing anything
Life had lost its meaning; he had to take the matter into his own hands
took the lift up to the top of the building and jumped, but he descended
slowly and softly landed, he  broke down and sobbed
He was doomed to live forever as a punishment for his wishes to
Be a master of life and death.
Back under the bed, he went to sleep an eternity away, but the dog
stood outside the bedroom crying, who is to feed it now?
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.


Poems That Did Not Make the Cut

We all have those notebooks
filled up to the top
of poems we started
but for some reason had to stop
But we never throw them away
into the trash can or shredder
because someday we’ll rewrite them
and make them much better
So I thought I would share
just a few of them here
and why they did not make the cut
should become perfectly clear

Bad Dog
Bang, bang, bang on my window
Scratch, scratch, scratch on the screen
I threw the dog out the door
for pooping on the kitchen floor
and my wife had the nerve to call me mean

A Montana Man
Our Governor carried a six gun
took his dog with him to state affairs
Branded bills instead of signing em
rode his horse when he went anywhere

Covid
Covid 19 virus still ravages the world
although there are millions who will still deny it
One brother obeys the laws by wearing his mask
another will take up his arms to defy it 
Picky, Picky
There are those that prefer sunrise
and those that enjoy the sunset
Some will never be satisfied
but I will take what I can get

Give it Your All
All that matters at the end of a day
as you look back upon the way you lived
Is you can say you were true to yourself
and gave it everything you had to give

Get Out of the Way
All that grease in the sausage I ate
has my breakfast gurgling right on through
My stomach is not feeling so great
man I really do have to go poo

Working For a Living
Any job you do not love
is a job that never ends
The way to make it better
is to share it with a friend

Marriage
The problem is most of the couples who marry
are not really quite sure what to expect
Ain’t got a clue about the real life that happens
after the end of the candy, flowers and sex

You think yours is the one that is something special
your honeymoon will just keep going on and on
You have way too much love to give to each other
no way in hell ‘that couple’ is what you’ll become

The Grave
The earth was dug out
in geometric lines
Straight as an arrow
Trimmed like glass

They tucked you away
into your own cliché
Gone like the wind
All things must pass
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Rainbow Cat

They say just there beyond the valley, that
there lived inside a house, a little cat
who never went outside to run and play;
she had to spend her time indoors each day.

Beside the window, curled up on a chair,
her heart was saddened by the nasty glare
of every cat that passed within her sight-
with eyes of fear and looking for a fight.

One day, a while back, she’d gone outside,
but never stayed out long- came in to hide.
The kitties laughed and chided her, and so
would not befriend her; she became their foe.

They called her Rainbow Cat- her owners named
her that, because her fur was brightly flamed
with colors- yellow, green and red, and blue
laid out in arcs; like rainbows, her fur grew.

Now Rainbow Cat, aware that she was shy
and different from others that passed by,
began to think of other ways to cope-
to make them like her- so there was some hope.

She thought and thought, whatever can I do
to let them know beneath this colored ‘doo’
there lives a nice smart kitten just like them
and, not a kitty cat they should condemn.

That night it came to her within a dream;
come morning, she began to smile and beam.
Her owner left the door somewhat ajar
as they left home for shopping in their car.

Her bowl of yummy dry food in the room
was filled up to the top and without gloom,
she carried dry food nibbles, one by one,
out through the door onto the porch, till done.

She stood beside her feast- began to eat;
and soon the cats came by, did not retreat-
But, closer to the porch they came to see
that Rainbow Cat had planned a cat party.

They came to share the feast each, one by one,
and Rainbow Cat was happy they had come!
The cats now saw beneath her rainbow fur-
she was a kitty just like them and purred.


November 2, 2014

~1st Place~
Contest: Sweet Fairytale For Children
Sponsor: BJ Legros Kelley
Judged: 05/06/2023

~1st Place~
Contest: Fable to the Rescue
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Judged 11/18/2014

Moral:  Never judge people by how they look:
What is inside is what really counts.

No Love Part 2 the Revival

I've found land again, the darkest land that I have seen,
And I can't see a single thing.
I sense these peoples ears perk up as I begin to lie again,
"I'm staying in sick again",
Huhh these lies ain't thickening.
Status update, now I'm writing silly s-it again,
On impulse, must be the ADHD kicking in.

Depression retakes its hold on me,
But I'm not being pulled into no sea.
I look at these demons,
and how they treat me,
It's time to rise up and beat em', 
Not be defeated.
Don't call me a freak 
just because I went through things that caused me to stop believing,
I'm a get this darkness out of my reality, 
I'm a live through this
No, I won't stop breathing!

Smash some light into this world, I'm a cremate it, infinite,
as I drop bomb after bomb on them,
I'm a have the greatest fight of all time,
and I'm not gona stop until the battle's won.
I'm not afraid, I can make it different, 
try and fail repeat it back again.
I'll rip this whole world of black apart,
An immense light seeps, I see, I weep.

An artistic flush,
The whole rainbow appears,
releasing my fears,
now I'm an enlightened fella.

Set a different course to the rest of the crowd,
A special route to make one feel crowned,
gold hearted,
The sort the royals have knighted,
A gladiator or King Arthur,
There's too many metaphors, 
But I am at my strongest,
Satan's armies would RUN if they saw this!

Now, now, bloaw! 
I'm elevating up to the top, I can't stop, I'm looking down on all of the world,
Nowadays I'm on top of this pain and it can't hurt or affect me anymore.
I feel so good, it's insane, I feel like I won the most epic of all wars.
I've got the power in me to grow strong and become an unstoppable forging force!

I'm a straighten up my stride,
I'll Never Give Up Hope, Not In Any Moment, NEVER, NO.
I'm a retake my pride,
a giant rose, just because I didn't give up, I was so close.
Mercy to my gods, I carried on relentless, I held up, I escaped hell.
So thanks to those who helped, and gave me that pull back up.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Tale of Hairless Cat

They say, just there beyond the valley, that
there lived inside a house a little cat
who never went outside to run and play;
she chose to spend her time indoors each day.

They named her Hairless Cat.  Her owners called
her that because their little pet was bald.
She was a different breed of cat, and true,
her skin was bare- on Hairless no fur grew.

Some days a while back, she’d gone outside
but never stayed out long, came in to hide;
the kitties tried ignoring her, and so
would not befriend her- would not say hello.

Now, Hairless Cat, aware that she was shy
and different from others that passed by,
began to think of special ways to cope
and make them friendlier- so there was hope.

She thought and thought, whatever she could do,
to let them know beneath her bare-skin view,
there lives a nice, smart kitten hoping that
she could be friends with each and every cat.

That night it came to her within a dream;
come morning, she began to smile and beam!
Her owners left the door somewhat ajar
when they left home for shopping in their car.

Her bowl of yummy dry food in the room
was filled up to the top, and very soon,
she carried dry food nibbles, one by one,
out through the door onto the porch till done.

She stood beside her feast, began to eat,
and soon the cats came by, did not retreat-
but closer to the porch they came to see
that Hairless Cat had planned a cat party.

They came to share the feast each, one by one,
and Hairless Cat was happy they had come!
Her lonely days were over, she had won,
and every day, from then, with friends had fun.

"The moral of this story is: if you
are lonely, and you need a friend or two,
you must reach out to them and make them see
what a good friend to them you want to be."


September 20, 2015

Contest: Fabled Musings
Sponsor: Joseph May

An Ode To the Thighs

The mountain, it was steep.
The snow was very deep.
Caused involuntary “ahs”
from anyone who saw.

To get up to the top
was not some little hop.
It took tram, chair and poma
to tackle that big momma.

To start from the summit,
a near vertical plummet,
took the heart of a lion,
and left most people cryin’.

He checks skis, boots and poles,
but really he just knows,
he’s putting off the trauma,
the approaching descent drama.

It’s really exhilarating.
His heart is fibrillating.
He sucks up, screams and GOES,
and attacks the chest-deep snow.

It’s man against the mountain.
On his wits he is a countin’,
for to miss one little turn,
means a faceload full of burn.

He turns, he slips, he sails.
It seems he never fails,
to again make it down,
to that quaint little town.

With heart so pure and strong,
it doesn’t take too long.
He’ll never give up the fight
to conquer fields of white.

He goes again, again
The battle he does win
between the fields of snow
and our mighty hero.

The day comes to an end.
Misfortunes do portend.
Our hero’s not come in –
Good god, what’s happenin’?

A cry goes through the town.
Our hero has gone down.
The patrolman are a scurryin’.
The crowds they are a worryin’.

My gosh, good god, oh my
catch a glimpse as he goes by.
Our hero’s on a gurney.
Why’s he on this journey?

Is he hurt – did he crash?
His head a tree did bash?
Please say it isn’t so
Come on, we gotta know.

Speculation runs a flutter.
The crowds they stand and mutter,
with faces stained by tear,
they say “Please help us here”.

The data is a mess.
His friends they won’t confess.
So people stand and stare
at their seeming lack of care.

On his buds there is no frown -
just big smiles all around.
They don’t understand the cries -
he merely thrashed his thighs.
Form: Ballad

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