Contest: Five Perspectives
Sponsor: Margaritas Lillico
Poem written: 090126
Red wagons, tricyles, electric trains.
Off to school exploring my brain.
Reading, writing, arithmatic each day.
But at 5, it was much ado about play.
New school, new teachers, new classes.
Honor rolls, lots of books, good grades.
15, working hard, covering all the bases.
New friends; so many different faces.
By 30, 2 kids and married for 8 years.
A time in life when fears and tears are real;
Life of dealing with mortgages and car deals.
A youth pastor, helping kids learn how to live.
When turning 50 and leaving 49 years behind,
We slowly learn to make the new step of time.
We are concerned with 401k's and retirement.
Spoken words are fine, but we want them in print.
By 70, I had resided in four different states.
I felt great, having neither head nor heart aches.
It was in 2019 when I attended my first NFL game.
Doctors, clinics, hospitals; mostly for exams.
Contest: Lento Soup Poetry
Sponsored by Charles Messina
There's a special place being built for me,
Where my house will last for all eternity.
No more needs for mortgages or hotels.
Collateral not required, nor will show and tell.
On a forever property of my very own.
Long has been the wait for my new home.
Say goodbye to town to town, state to state.
A private mansion is where I'll lay my stake.
Construction workers, fishermen,
hands broadened,
reddened cracks in the wintertime,
teachers, office workers,
a standing cashier feels aging
in her legs,
careers extended.
Can it be just a few more years til
they have freedom,
to live on Social Security?
Paying off mortgages,
and children's student loans,
paying, paying.
Arthritis cream and knee replacement
surgeries,
their funeral will be their retirement party.
Groceries, housing costs have gone up,
while adult children still ask for
financial help.
Hoping their vehicles last a few more years,
hoping, hoping.
Their grandchildren depend on them,
when their parents don't fill the gaps,
aging in America, not for the faint hearted,
the sympathetic Lord will see them through,
as they hold on tightly,
Sunday dinner thanking Him for their endurance.
Their funeral will be their retirement party.
A gleaming white locomotive in the mists on the railway-
no work today, as it stops for them
to come aboard to Heaven. ~
Pulling and pushing and dancing up and down
Like monkeys no one is watching but the behaved crowd
Who paid to expect what they came to see and get their moneys worth
In a humble and normative way as the rest of their fellow neighbors
Would brag about what places to visit and crave
The onlookers are consumers who come out during the day
Only when time allows them away from their computer and
Obligations and time with their families off the clock
And race against time to outstretch the day’s moments into
Lasting memories they rush to create
And be in the moment somehow
At the same time they wish to obscure and automate
With their own helpless hands and hearts they give their all
Of all they have to give to what they’re allowed to predict
And in these moments they plan for themselves and everyone
Else that they love and care about enough to sit down
With and talk as if time stopped ticking
Oh wouldn’t it be a dream of us in a world
That kept no clocks, timecards or mortgages to bear.
It started last night, gently falling, large flakes.
I was back again almost instantly.
All the faces, my brothers, friends and neighbors.
Everyone is bundled, wearing half the clothes they own.
The speed and thrill going down the hill and
the long, cold trudge climbing back up again.
The warmth of the bonfire once you finally reach the top.
Jokes and heckling about the previous run,
then do it all over again, and again….
There are no worries here,
no democrats or republicans.
No one has children or mortgages,
and no one has been to war.
We pile onto large inner tubes from tractor tires,
the more the weight the faster the ride.
Piled high down “Suicide Hill” with reckless abandon,
headed for the frozen creek below.
The bodies of snow warriors are tossed aside,
we are the children of the cold dark night.
Our laughter and screams echoing as a song,
throughout the surrounding hills.
Mom and Dad, Dad and Mom
So opposed in their roles, yet unified in their wants.
It's a bitter shame to be old and grey,
Look back at the longest commitment, the largest role in the stage of life,
Marriage and being a spouse, kids and mortgages
And have nothing good to say about it.
Till your spouse's signature takes up one half of the ‘sign here’ box at the end of your divorce papers.
You look at the comforting curvature of their initials, the hurried ink.
One you've seen a thousand times, this time the last name isn't yours.
And words rush into your throat, gratitude chokes you up.
Thank you.
even though I couldn't think of one good thing to say about you a few days ago and wont find a single compliment to give years from now if you held a gun to my head,
I'm glad we ran this Act through.
This scene concludes, the epilogue ends.
The velvet drapes fall like well timed snow,
Soft and punctual.
You take a step back, sigh in relief.
Hear the muted applause,
Guilty yet absolved.
Hand in unlovable hand.
Dad and Mom. Mom and Dad.
Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day!
The rain will wash my melanin away, black Monday
All we inherit is mortgages & curses
Cheap labor has become my purpose
Not today, because I woke up feeling rather hopeless
Does the lord care,my prayers seem so worthless
Life in the village , life in the wilderness
Not the same words some say, but today
has been an awful black Monday!
In life I slept
worried,
installment due ...
mortgages...
In death, sepulchral sleep ...
no requirements
sans scares,
without collectors `
at the door...!
It is important being a youth in society today
Despite what the old folks mutter and say
Don't listen to the experienced or their peers
However bring to the world such fresh ideas
Sure they are sometimes boisterous and loud
Just an expression of being alive and proud
The youth in society have holes in their clothes
A fashion statement is what I happen to suppose
We were all youths in society growing up fast
The innocence of it all never seemed to last
It is important being a youth in society today
Before jobs and mortgages get in the way
Aftermath Of A Virus
Written: by Miracle Man
December 23, 2020
This virus fosters both hunger and despair,
leaving far too many, confronting their fears.
We wash hands, social distance, and mask the air,
public opinion routinely tickles ears.
For something like this, the world wasn't prepared,
sustenance was lost but mortgages still came due.
The world cries out will only elite be spared,
and the world's underside covers things askew.
Some go quickly while others may convalesce,
each day while watching we see numbers increase.
While enduring times of anguish and distress,
we patiently await the next press release.
HOPE ALL IS OKAY
HOPE THAT THIS TO SHALL PASS
HOPE THAT SOON RESUME
IN DUE TIME AND IN SAFETY
HOPE THAT YOU ARE DOING OKAY
HOPE THAT JOBS BE PLENTIFUL
HOPE THAT ENOUGH FOOD FOR ALL
HOPE THAT MORTGAGES ARE PAID
HOPE THAT ALL FINANCIAL TROUBLES ARE OVER
HOPE THAT YOU ARE NOT DEPRESSED
HOPE THAT EVERYONE GET YOUR REST
HOPE THAT WE ALL CAN STILL RE-UNITE
HOPE AND PRAYERS FOR ALL IN DISTRESS.
STAY SAFE, KEEPING THE FAITH. BE BLESSED.
Drifting alive, waves of human tide,
money and power slaves nine to five
project deadlines nauseate in stress
endless chase, mortgages magnified.
Vacillating minds, weary woes abide
big cars whiff smoke on sullen faces.
insidious pressure, to be a 'someone'
mad huff and puff, passion slowly died.
Fake hierarchy walls , anonymous pride
unreachable goals, on invisible horizon
Don't know who am I ,Where am I going?
hare has turned a horse , the tortoise cried
A mimic in frenetic , never satisfied,
It's a Rat's Race , a finish line of cower
Pied Piper in bend,..the chariot guide.
9th March 2020
Sponsor Joseph May
Contest Name Lines to Awaken Your Muse 2
Based on the following line:
Down the street as I was drifting with the city's human tide.
Unremitting responsibilities
Aspirations tampered by reality
Relentless quest for more
Beautiful wife, children, home
Cars, boat, vacations, clothes
All requisite trappings
Abundance of wealth and success
Colleges, tuitions, mortgages
Debt free, substantial savings
Old age, sickness, infirmity
Dusty, unplayed
Fender Stratocaster guitar
Mortgages used to be $100 a month
When we were only making $18.80 upfront
Those were the days
Are you kidding, no way
Still long for those days when we're out for lunch
Sometimes he feels like a museum on
a Monday - empty, desolate, withdrawn
from the celestial library where not
yet written prose and poetry are stored.
A sleep-deprived, he walks around the rooms,
he curses rhymes and rhythms, he assumes
a pledge to give it up, to live a life
a mere human lives - to have a wife,
to find a paying job, to meet with friends,
to be a fan of “Liverpool”* that tends
to take last place this season, to get old,
to pay off mortgages, to die from cold
but not insomnia…
As someone said,
nothing is fuller than an empty head.
*England's football club
11/14/2019
Favourite Poem From November 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
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