Long With a grain of salt Poems
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Most everything written
(and learned ya in school)
Yukon coon sitter, (and bet
your bottom dollar) tibia bunch
of contrived information
all details bu...bu...bull...low knee
within this poetic missive
after spending a lifetime crunch
ching numbers, the following
singularly just my hunch,
but despite minuscule
approximate i.e. kid size lunch
meal, (sans two clenched fists,
and weighing about 1.5 kilograms),
not much to munch,
yet if smacked in the kisser
by a pugilist visited
square in the jaw deadly (Judy hush
hiss) sucker punch
whereby the unlucky
recipient may see "unlucky stars"
after brows severely scrunched,
thee above poppycock, and potentially
"FAKE" though (Ripley deed lee)
believe able to ye,
nonetheless behooves me
to segue-way (by Segway) to pre
sent a "TRUE" revelation see
(gnome hatter, aye
cheese silly contradict
mice elf alias Stuart Little) prithee
please just accept what I write
with a grain of salt
(from the Sultan Sea),
cuz yawl do yarself grave
injury and lodge a gree
vance against this harmless
right ham handed cree
chore from the outer limits
of the twilight zone, thus
I STRONGLY ADVISE thee,
NOT to stake eh knee
un mensch chin hubble cogitation,
and figuratively swallow,
hook, conga line
and sinker thine highly suspect re
dunk yule us gobbledygook mee
cully (meekly) reed this
more so asthma
childish entertainment, hence oak key
jist put aside any urgent task
to revel as sigh bee
devil logical syntax
with sum man tricks
playfully wasting yar
precious time free
cully (freakily) inventing outlandish nee
incoherent yawping, towering,
and brutally butchering,
Brooklyn speak (homer over
mayor later mother), she
nearly always... er added
letters "er" at'er the ender
her sentences - er stain?
Most people are shocked when they find out
how bad I am as an electrician.
My wife just found out I replaced our bed
with a trampoline. She hit the ceiling!
I used to think I was indecisive.
But now I’m not so sure.
Light travels faster than sound,
which is the reason that some people appear
bright before you hear them speak.
My therapist says I have a preoccupation
for revenge. We’ll see about that.
A termite walks into the bar and asks,
‘Is the bar tender here?’
I always take life with a grain of salt.
And a slice of lemon. And a shot of tequila.
I don’t suffer from insanity... I enjoy
every minute of it.
The last thing I want to do is hurt you;
but it’s still on my list.
Today a man knocked on my door
and asked for a small donation toward the local
swimming pool. I gave him a glass of water.
I’m reading a book about anti-gravity.
It’s impossible to put down.
‘Doctor, there’s a patient on line two
who says he’s invisible.’‘Well, tell him
I can’t see him right now.
Last night my girlfriend was complaining
that I never listen to her or something like that.
People who take care of chickens
are literally chicken tenders.
What’s a frog’s favourite type of shoes?
Open toad sandals.
Blunt pencils are really pointless.
Two wifi engineers got married.
The reception was fantastic.
One of the cows didn’t produce milk today.
It was udder familiar
If attacked by a mob of clowns
go for the juggler.
The rotation of Earth really makes my day.
Pollen is what happens when flowers
can’t keep it in their plants.
A book fell on my head the other day.
I only have my shelf to blame though.
When the cannibal showed up late to the buffet,
they gave him the cold shoulder.
A blind man walked into a bar… and a table…
and a chair…
How do you make holy water?
You boil the hell out of it.
THE ISLANDS OF SAN JUAN - TIMESHARE
[FOLKTALE]
IN A PORTION, A SPELL IS CASTE.
THE PEOPLE ARE CALLED NUGLUMMI.
IN A TRANCE STATE, THEY EAT HONEY AND BEES ARE FORM FROM THEIR EYES.
INSIGHTFULLY THEY BEGIN TO TRANSFORM THE TERRAIN AND ISLANDS FORMED FOR THE FREEDOM OF WOMAN AND MAN.
THE PEOPLE OF THE SEA ARE FREE IN THE PUGET SOUNDS.
DOUGLAS FIR GROWS TALL.
THE LANDSCAPE IS EVERGREEN AND THE LUMMIS ARE SALISAN.
DIALECTIC VERSIONS OF THIS LANGUAGE ARE POSSESSED.
THEIR LOGIC IS HOW THEY TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES.
*
THE PENINSULA THAT RESIDES IN THEIR TOPOGRAPHY IS VAST IN SHAPE AND FASHIONED BY THE UNINHABITED PORTAGE ISLAND WHERE THEIR RESERVED LAND NOW LAYS. LIKE MANY NORTHWEST COAST TRIBES, THEY GASTRONOMY CONSISTS OF THE COLLECTING OF SHELLFISH, GATHERING OF PLANTS SUCH AS CAMAS AND DIFFERENT SPECIES OF BERRIES, AND MOST IMPORTANT, AS SALMON FISHERMEN, THEY DEVELOPED “REEF NETTING.”
THEY ENJOY POTLATCH ON THE ORCAS ISLAND, SAN JUAN ISLAND, LUMMI ISLAND, FIDALGO ISLAND, PORTAGE ISLAND, AND NEAR POINT ROBERTS AND SANDY POINT.
IN ALL NUGLUMMI, WERE COMMERCIAL TO THEIR TRADE.
THEY GREATER HARVEST IS TODAY.
THE PADDLE TO LUMMI IS 68 CANOEING FAMILIES PADDLING HAND-MADE CANOES TO THE LUMMI RESERVATION FROM PARTS OF WASHINGTON STATE AND BRITISH COLUMBIA.
**
[TODAY]
THESE ISLANDS OF THE PUGET SOUNDS IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HEAR.
WITH A GRAIN OF SALT, THE SEA SWEEPS THE BEACH.
REMEMBRANCE IS IN WALKING SILENTLY AND HEARING THE TRIBAL SINGING IN SALISH.
THESE ISLANDS ARE A CASTAWAYS HAVEN – A HARBOR OF CONTENTMENT, WHICH LAY IN BRITISH COLUMBIA AND THE NORTHWESTERN UNITED STATES.
ROMANTIC ENDEAVORS ARE BASED ON YOUR IMAGINATION.
THESE ARE THE SAN JUAN ISLANDS OF WASHINGTON STATE.
MAY YOUR VISIT BE SAFE!
***
April
Admitting that I don’t
Still care even though it’s not fair
to be without everything
that made me
exactly what it was to feel
what it was to be real
and now I don’t care anymore
Like the hands on a clock change
Arms roll loose and free
Never knowing what to grab
Or to even believe in me
To catch a fall from a distance
Even though it’s right next to me
You still can’t believe
I’d be there for every instance
Rollin like eyes on a face
too bad the smile’s fake
showing mistakes
never seeing through to the truth
but the words can’t lie
when it makes the features
turn, to a painful time
Cause the thought remains
Of how it’s never the same How I changed my ways
In these turbulent days
I can’t face now what’s in store
Cause there’s always gonna be that much more
Waiting, and hiding,
Behind every curve
Like the moonlight
Sitting on the edge of your nerves
Shattering hopes and dreams
Misleading
And revealing what’s not anymore
When the light shines green
its just to deceive
Even though it’s against
Everything you’ve seen
It’s dark
Inside the heart
Filled with stains from yesterday’s rain
Leaving what’s left in the distance
And never feeling what’s real anymore
Try to look past the stage, of the rage
Knowing full well that
In this world we dig our own graves
Take me, I can not fight myself
Stretching, a life’s worth is just too much
Saddening, to run from my old self
Causing, a stigma in my eyes
You hear a chime
Lost in age,
A match to a time
Before May
When everything was safe
Take everything with a grain of salt cause
In the end it’s no one’s fault
Like assault
On a memory fading in the wind
No matter what it’s still a sin
Just roll with the punches kid
It’ll all turn round in the end
It doesn't matter who you are, I know you'll agree,
maybe not completely, but to some degree.
I want to hear what you have to say,
about how we love each other today.
Love today is a joke and a shame.
No one knows what it is besides a game.
The divorce rate is sky high,
at the first signs of trouble people say goodbye.
What happened to that thing we called trust?
We switched that around and now we say lust.
How are you supposed to find your soul mate?
When men and women give it up on the first date.
Some or most people like this,
but all I want is good evening and maybe a kiss.
I don't want to go any further with you.
I guess I am one of the select few.
Even if there is something there,
and we do have this feeling we share.
It seems like it goes away much too soon,
and the once feelings we had, we've become immune.
In the future we might put together our flames,
but right now you want to play mind games?
To me it doesn't make any sense,
why people do this and put up a defense.
We both should know that there will be fights,
but we see this and decide to give up our rights.
Then as I lay there wanting to call you for any reason,
I'll tear out my insides just to hear your voice of treason.
My eyes will water and tear up and blur my vision,
and I will lay there for hours, just me and my indecision.
I don't know, maybe this is my fault,
that you take my feelings with a grain of salt.
Let me say that I am done playing,
and I am done looking around and surveying.
I just want to find someone good and nice,
but with each one I find, its just another roll of the dice.
I even voted for Ross Perot once and Reagan and consider myself a middle of the roader. The biggest problem the Republicans have right now is a lack of experience. Who else has been through all that Hillary has? She has a husband who is a prior President, She has been a first lady of both a governor and President, she has been
a Senator of the Largest state in the United States, she has been a Secretary of State, she gave birth to a child while being a first lady (only one ever to have done such of a thing), has endured and put up with the Monica Lewinsky as well as Whitewater Incident, decided to save government money by putting everything on one cell phone instead of two, suffered every physical and mental embarrassment, prejudice and discrimination that no man has to suffer and after all of that has still decided to run for President again. With all of her education, experience, background and connections, who else could possibly be better than that putting all partisanship aside. That is sure one word that should be thrown in the trash. If you can't say something positive about anything or anyone, why say anything at all? If that was the case, guess we wouldn't have any newspapers or news shows left. Take all of this with a grain of salt be it big, small, crunchy or perfectly clear like Nixon used to say. Right? Oh, and not only that she has over 40 years of governmental experience. Some resume. All of that would make a great poem. Now what form and category should I call all of this?
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
It would be nice, you know if you gave me a reason for your visits
Sometimes you pop in so randomly, like an outbreak of a deadly disease
I sometimes wonder where you picked up this boldness
This confidence to barge into someone’s mind without shame
Then remember, that it is I, master of hoarding that once let you in
I have kept your memory for so long, you need only twist before resurfacing
I have kept tabs on your whys and hows that I know you, a familiar face
I may forget your why’s because truly, you have no reason why
But your hows linger in my mind like muscle memory
I see you creep in with dirty clothes,
Let the room lay in eggshells of a mess
Let the late nights of long prayers turn into short nights of “God, please hear the groans of my heart”
I see the way you walk, stealthily, like a thief in the night
The way you smooth talk the suppressed anger and pain
You whisper sweet nothings in my ears
“How worthless could you possibly be?” and my personal favorite “you should’ve died on that first try”
But still, it would be nice, you know, if you gave me a heads up
Of the next time you want to come by, maybe then I’ll be more prepared
I’ll do laundry beforehand
Maybe cook a meal or 5 for days where I can’t stand
Maybe, hear your words and take them with a grain of salt
But who am I kidding?
I will always listen to you and you will never announce your arrival
Why Poets Write
Why do poets write?,
Why does the moon shine at night?.
Why does water fall with such grace?,
Why is a rainbow such a beautiful sight?
So, why do poets write?
Do they write because the moon shines so bright?
Do they write because water falls with such grace?
Or is it because of the majesty of a hawk, in flight?
Poets write because that’s what we do,
Whether it be a Sonnet, Etheree or Haiku,
We see things through our own prism,
And write about it in our creative point of view.
This is why I write,
I write because I see beauty in the moonlight,
I appreciate the splendor of a waterfall,
And the majesty of a hawk, in flight.
I write because it feeds my soul,
Writing the perfect poem is my ultimate goal,
I write, I do my best,
The rest is out of my control.
The perfect words, in the perfect order,
Follow the rules, no pressure,
Slowly see your creation come alive,
When it works, there’s nothing better.
Poets, generally, don’t write for the glory,
We heal people by proxy,
We are emotion peddlers,
And we do it all for free.
I can’t speak for everyone, nor would I try,
My urge to write is something I’d best not deny,
Or things go drastically wrong,
Like ice, in the middle of July.
So, regardless of why you write,
Keep your vision in sight,
Take criticism with a grain of salt,
Never get discouraged, never get uptight.
© 2011
I’m thankful that I’m a woman
With the power to beguile
With charm at my fingertips
And bewitchment in my smile
I’m proud to be a woman
Of genders the fairer one
With a silken soft beauty
And aura to match the sun
I’m glad to be a woman
Of creation the very best
The epitome of all the finest
By whom mankind was blessed
I revel in being a woman
Full of such delicate grace
The one to woo and dazzle
With passion etched on my face
I relish being a woman
For I’m able to dominate
To conquer and subdue
With one motion to subjugate
I celebrate being a woman
To have voluptuous curves
Not angular and muscled
But supple, with gentle swerves
I jubilate, for I’m a woman
Made as a help meet for man
To console and nurture him
Add my wisdom to his plan
Yes…oh yes, I am a woman
I know what I’m capable of
At times I am a tigress
At others a gentle dove
A woman is the essence
Of beauty and all that’s good
Men, I advise you to be careful
And treat them as you should
For women are little girls
Made of sugar and of spice
Now do be good little boys
If you want them to be nice!
YES, I’m thankful I’m a woman
I embody pleasure sweet
To be found in my presence
Is a never ending treat!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
OK men...take this with a grain of salt...C'mon! It is the International Women's Day. Show that woman in your life a little bit more love today, for where would you be without her! ;)
I respected the man that you once were.
Professional and kind.
They way you saw the bigger picture,
With your business driven mind.
It seemed that you could do it all
And for a time, things went well.
But the day you forced him into our lives,
We were shaken from your spell.
We dealt with him the best we could,
We thought that you would see.
As you had said in meetings to numerous to count,
"I would never choose him over this company"
But your promises are rarely kept,
We take your "word", with a grain of salt.
You are angry when we continuously doubt you,
That is your own fault.
So many times he's proven unworthy,
So you just create a new position for him to fill.
I used to think this company meant something to you.
You have made it very clear it never will.
Our professional words fall upon a fathers ears,
Not those of a responsible business man.
It doesn't matter what it is that he does,
You say you will help him, however you can.
You say the company has sacrificed a lot for him,
But that just isn't true,
It's you who've sacrificed this company,
And every single person here that has carried you.
In the end, you want it to be you and him,
That, we can all see.
So good luck with your nepotistic soap opera,
As of today, it no longer includes me.