Long What a blast Poems
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I once received awards and lost them its a sad thing.
It would be a blessing to get them back, is the best thing.
Contest publishers,sweepstakes publishers,lottery publishers is the best thing to receive.
So many lost rewards came threw the mail, its a shame i lost them as well. I would love to move foward in the industry and become a representative again as well.
To receive a award is the greatest thing in life i would love to be awarded for great insight.
Might i get this lucky chance to success in the industry is my only advance.
I love the world and what it has,awards can make me free atlast. Lost audit awards its a shame they passed.
Receiving the reward of riches could set me free at last.
Awards awards awards for poetry what a blast.
Assuming we're both heading for Heaven
When our days here on earth are done
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 of my Chevy
What a blast... we put on quite 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 to you for all eternity
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
Seventy seven rotations round the sun
seventy seven rotations round the sun
Early days were filled with anguish
but now each day is always filled with fun
Seventy seven rotations round the sun
seventy seven rotation round the sun
life is full of learning oh what a blast
fulfil each day with joy, focus on the present
Just accept what has occurred
we cannot change the past
Seventy seven rotations round the sun yee hah
seventy seven rotations round the sun woo hoo
and there's so many many more
of rotations to add to the existing score
Seventy seven rotations round the sun I'm on a high
seventy seven rotations round the sun
The infinite potential as far as the endless blue sky
Assuming we're both heading to Heaven
When our days on earth are done
Save me a seat beside you dear lover
To continue with more naughty fun
Not suggesting anything out of line
Just some naughtiness, well you know
Like our times in the back of my Chevy
What a blast... we put on quite a show
Don't think I've ever thanked you enough
Here's how I intend to repay
Promise to make love to you for eternity
Believe these words that I say
Remembering how we were obsessed
You were the absolute bestest by far
The downside, it always seemed like night
Kept fogging up the windows of the car
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
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.
My life's been fine without you -- really has.
A Belgian bar has opened in the square,
and weekends, we do beer and tapas there,
then Malcolm and Elaine's place, for some jazz
and Jamieson's. May in Cortes -- what a blast!
Right now, I'm growing sideburns! Summer hols,
we'll all dress up as bandits and their molls!
I've never laughed so much. Who needs the past?
Yet sometimes, when the lake frowns in the rain,
or April squalls tug blossoms from the trees,
I think of you. This sadness preordained,
like plane trees pollarded, proud amputees
shorn of their plumes, emerges, stark and strange:
and I know then. Some things will never change.
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
My life's been fine without you -- really has.
A Belgian bar has opened in the square,
and weekends, we do beer and tapas there,
then Malcolm and Elaine's place, for some jazz
and Jamieson's. May in Cortes -- what a blast!
Right now, I'm growing sideburns! Summer hols,
we'll all dress up as bandits and their molls!
I've never laughed so much. Who needs the past?
Yet sometimes, when the lake frowns in the rain,
or April squalls tug blossoms from the trees,
I think of you. This sadness preordained,
like plane trees pollarded, proud amputees
shorn of their plumes, emerges, stark and strange:
and I know then. Some things will never change.
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