Long What a blast Poems
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178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout, 'dead man walking.'
He sits savoring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying,
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth, unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes, as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace, feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy of his own premature death.
Silent One collaboration with Robert Lindley
17 December 2017
178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout,
'dead man walking.'
He sits savouring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying;
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth,
unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes,
as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace,
feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy
of his own premature death.
SOUP SAFARI
, , , ,
here I am in NYC...packing after a safari –theme night party
with Soup members two nights ago, filled with awed revelry.
shrieks whistling on linked arms during a photo shoot,
as live cheers of Constance and Andrea went “ whoot!”
while Debbie and Michael hosted “Tag, you’re ‘It’ “games
bringing Nikko and Sara to compete in spelling members’ names…
I still remember Robert H. reciting his comic spiels, what a blast!
our jaws locked from clapping at Dr. Ram’s impromptu dance act,
till Kashinath segued into a sitar rap in his flashy jungle attire
prompting Linda to donate PM prizes, much to our hearts’ desire.
on our table, an exciting blend of brew amped repartee’s pitches
amused by Brian fleshing parts of short forms without glitches,
enter wacky Sydney applying geographic values to long verse usage
with footnotes on how worlds expand over time from poetic vantage,
oh, how Gwen sparkled with pleasantries as cups of jokes poured
most memorable of all, the warm personal shares of soupers' world
that drew us closer as real people with scraps here and there
recalling red-cherry days and funny bloopers’ wear and tear…
and as I leave from 8th street hailing a taxi to catch a plane,
notes and album tugged this heart, anticipating next gang’s chain.
copyright
, , , , ,
DEDICATED TO P.D: get well soon and take your daily dose your soup!
*notes: with admiration for soup members included herein... all in the
name of pure fun!
* Gwendolyn Rix, Brian Strand, Sydney Peck, Myself
* For Michael Falotico’s Table for Four/ P.D Soup Contest
* by nette onclaud
Unrecognized through bloodshot eyes
An unfinished Jig Saw Puzzle
Next to a dried up bag of chips
And half a beer, he would guzzle
His stomach roared discontent
But he wasn't wasting that beer
He didn't know where he was
Or even how to get out of here!
What a blast at the club last night
The dancing and drinking and such
The night was laced with merriment
The morning after, not so much
With zombie cadence, she appeared
A voice screeching like blackboard chalk,
Said, "Get dressed to meet my parents!"
He said, "Right", not sure he could walk
Then, "Wait, why?", came out of his mouth
"Because of our marriage!", she said
With a frown he asked, "What Marriage?",
Then noticed her face turning red
In her eyes, he could see murder
Time slowed down to a creepy crawl
With one hand hitching his britches
He made a mad jump for the hall!
An ashtray hit the wall and broke
Just inches from his throbbing head
The crash muted by her curses,
Sounding like she wanted him dead!
Why did he have to say those words?
Behind, he saw her in pursuit
He crashed through a door to exit
Then realized he'd lost a boot!
He jumped in his truck and floored it
He could see her in the rear view
"Wow", he thought, "That was way too close "
"Again, I'm in a ballyhoo!"
Another action he'd regret
About life decisions he chose
What? Is this story about me?
Not as far as anyone knows!
It was that special night…
Of fright and delight….
The kind that most children enjoy…
Where monsters and clowns sleep under the bed.
while children with their favorite toy…
pull the covers over their head..
But this one was different …
Some still can’t believe it…
But it’s up to you to decide…
The costumes were chosen, and the children quite proud….
knew they were going to be the scariest and creepiest ones in the crowd..
The night was windy and a little bit cool….
they all met as planned down by the school..
There was a Werewolf , a Witch, a Vampire and a Clown..
who had a smile which was turned upside down.
No one spoke, as they were all in disguise…
because that would have ruined the big surprise…
They went up to the houses yelling “ trick or treat “..
And each got something good to eat…
Oh, what a blast they had that night..
Running up and down the streets..
Filling their tummies with lots of sweets..
It was getting late and they were tired. .we should be in bed, they said..
But before we go, we need to know, which one of us is “Fred ?”
So they took off their masks…and to their surprise..
The Werewolf was Mason, the Witch was Gabby…
And the Vampire was their best friend the little blonde Abby….
Oh then you must be Fred.. ..they said to the clown..
But ...when the clown started to remove his mask…
they discovered the truth…he wasn’t wearing one….
* watch for sequels in this series
Oh, the memories of school days from the past,
Those high school days I will never forget;
Happy to recall those gym dances, oh what a blast !
All of us girls loved those dances with no regrets,
Crowding into the restrooms to fix hair and makeup;
Those high school days- I will never forget !
Oh, for days, new dance steps we would dream up,
Then the day arrives and girls and boys fill the gym;
Crowding- in the restrooms fixing hair and makeup !
Boys on one side, girls on the other, then I saw HIM,
Madonna was doing the Vogue and we did not move;
Then the day arrives- and girls and boys fill the gym !
I was ready to show off my attire and my groove,
Then, it happened, Jennifer was singing, Lets Get Loud,
Madonna was doing the Vogue- and we did not move !
Then, I was Livin La Vida Loca, I was on a cloud,
Oh, the memories of school days- from the past;
Then it happened Jennifer was singing, Lets Get Loud,
Happy to recall those gyms dances, oh what a blast !
___________________________
February 4, 2016
Poetry/Terzanelle/Livin La Vida Loca
Copyright Protected, ID 16-752-332-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Lets Hear It,
sponsor, Judy Konos
First Place
What a year, a crazy year
A long year its becoming
What a change, so many changes
I've changed and feel like running
What a way, this growing way
My way of anger it is growing
What time, this lonely time
This time true colors are now showing
What a blast, was it a blast
A blast at what you're doing
Is it a game, your evil game
Your game to ruin and undo me
What is your point, please make your point
My point is I've been lost my anger
What is your plan, do you have a plan
You see my plan it comes with danger
What did you think, or even think
Did you try to think at all
What did you want, or hope to want
Want to me to bow and fall
What if I said, I said to you
I said you've unlocked the beast
What would you do, try to do
Do you run or fight at least
What has happened, and happened why
Well you meant for it to happen
What will I do, I will not run
Will fight from the corner im backed in
By Troy Toney
8-16-20
FATE?
Some say that retribution's fine,
high intervention seems divine.
The spark of lightning's suffered break,
no satisfaction do I take,
coincidence doth make this rhyme.
by vk4pr Don
Or how a knockers early 1990 8088, 10 megahertz computer got scorched
by lightening years ago when i was using Ham radio
a bit more often
Carolyn,
poor ole radio sits alone,
used to talk to my dad on it, i own,
recorded his stories on an ole reel tape,
perhaps frequency movie i can ape,
hope ya healthy happy babe, a going,
johnsons gone so hold the phone:)
on ya baba, love....Don
John Smith,
I annoyed a Ham, lightening hit his antennae mast,
scorched his modem and toway radio,what a blast,
jumped into the old xt computer box,
an blue the bejesus out of its socks,
onetimes not:)
MORAL don't pick on poor ole johnson:(
Three dear friends from the past popped back into my life today
Sarai, Donna, and Mary Jo
A red letter day, this day,Wednesday, November 19th, 2014
It shall go down as one of those days that are hard to explain
What a coincidence, all three on the same day!
The stars and everything else must be in total alignment
My life is back in perfect harmony again
What do you call it when this happens
Karma, kismet, destiny, whatever explanation you can think of
It blew mw away... what a blast!
As you can see I'm having trouble keeping a lid on my emotions
THIS time we won't lose track of each other
As always, we can never be sure what tomorrow will bring
But it will take a lot to top this one
Thanks to these three dear sweet ladies
Sarai, Donna, and Mary Jo
© Jack Ellison 2014
Assuming we're both heading to Heaven
When our days here on earth are done
Please save me a seat beside you dear lover
To continue with more naughty fun
Not suggesting anything out of line
Just some normal naughtiness, you know
Like the times we had in the back seat of my Chevy
What a blast... you sure put on a show
Taught me things I only read about in books
Young and inexperienced was I
You showed me stuff that boggled my mind
On your knowhow I had to rely
Don't think I've ever thanked you enough
Here's how I intend to repay
Promise to make love for eternity or longer
Believe these words that I say
Remembering how we were obsessed with sex
You were the absolute bestest by far
The downside was, it always seemed like night
Kept fogging up the windows of the car
© Jack Ellison 2014