The plumber is fixing a leak;
The pipe’s needing more than a tweak.
So for things to improve
He will have to remove
Some wood panels - I’m starting to freak.
Our house, built in ‘80, is old
And it’s paneled, which is, truth be told,
Now considered passé
But was cool in its day,
Though with changing it, I’ve not been sold.
So I’m listening from the next room
As he hammers and drills; I presume
That he knows what to do
For we haven’t a clue
If more leaks, in the future, will loom.
But voila! He just finished and yes,
I’m relieved of a lot of my stress,
For he came well-equipped
To replace what had dripped
And he didn’t leave much of a mess.
On the wall, all the panels survived
And the handyman, once he’s arrived,
Will nail down what is loose
And, as you can deduce,
Of my kitchen, I won’t be deprived.
I am going to admit right up front
I am not a believer in this “New World Order”
In my opinion, it is a conspiracy theory,
Devised by those who are eager to confront,
Of it, frankly, I am more than somewhat weary.
I have heard blather from right-wing extremists
As far back as 50 years ago of a super-government
Being planned by a powerful cabal of power brokers
Closely aligned with international communists
As hard to nail down as fantasies by Bram Stokers.
In truth, we already live in a global society
And nations of like politics have bonded in kind
But national sovereignty is still the prevailing view
In my way of thinking, freedom is still a priority
Though some leaders are of a different mind.
If the world ever succumbs to a “New World Order”
I shall not be around to be a part of it, I know
In any case, I can tell you it is very slow developing
As I said, 50 years ago it was bantered in the corridor
So, it is not something that has come galloping!
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written April 8, 2022
for "New World Order" poetry contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Stars spark from a deeping, clear, blue winter sky as
the moon prepares to enter the scene, stage left.
A breeze sweeps away the last blushes of sunlight and
evening caroling-bells, ring like wind-chimes.
The evening chill makes students walking back from
classes seem to walk a little closer for warmth.
Students, huddled to nail down evening plans seem to smoke,
like the exhaust of cars exiting campus in bumper to bumper traffic.
Wet sidewalks, like dark and winding mirrors, twist reality, inverting
and reflecting lights - bending them into pointing the way home.
Crossed lines
Why are quiet evenings not enough
the mind will not slow down or make sense
in the blinking light of thoughts.
Wine is of no use the brain turns into ruby.
I must hurry, catch thoughts before they
turns into banalities.
The night waits for me to articulate the mystery of art.
I have to nail down words that are always
a bit paler than the ones thought of.
Once again, I have given birth to an ugly duckling
but I will not send them into the abyss of delete,
I will wait till they can walk unaided before sending
them into the world.
My willingness to move, that day,
Frightened me
As still as a log I lay
While they all surrounded me, to see,
What was wrong? Why was I so complying?
For years they had tried to hold
My free spirit, my free soul
But never had they succeeded to mold,
My body in the shape of their wodden coffins
But today I could see, tears of joy
Roll down their fair face
As they lift me and place my carcass
In that wooden case.
They nail down the lid tightly
Lest I should again escape
Then throw me down the deep deep hole
And turn back to go away
Lying beneath the layers of sand
That they had piled upon me
Mother! Mother! I cry
In one monotonous tone
Mother! Mother! I shout
My skin turning to bone
But even she doesn't look back
She who knows I'm so afraid to be alone.
After knowing so much
of unknown,
you were afraid, but I
lunge for the relic.
How far you will sink
in the depth of cries ?
The moon will not-
offer her lips.
Light will not give you
the vision. A sin unrolls.
The city burns in its-
own garbage.
As soon as the water
dries, eyes will blink-
to nail down the constellation
in fog. The tongues retreat.
Satish Verma
How boring to write about love all the time
But it does make the world go round
First thing every morning and last thing at night
My mind is romance bound
A mushy old man who's long past his prime
For the old urge I'm never bereft
The sight of a young girl in very short shorts
Can still makes me catch my breath
Guess until they finally nail down my casket
And bury me in the ground
I'll still love the sight of a beautiful woman
It will still send me heaven bound
It's the way it's been and always will be
As long as pretty girls cavort
Makes us males think of a tussle in the hay
To an afternoon of pleasure it transports
I'm terribly sorry, sure got carried away
Remembering how virile I once was
When you're as old as me it's all I have left
These sweet images makes me blush
© Jack Ellison 2014
Wagari Maathai,
Boldness,eagerness,harmless
Was for a benefit,
Through melancholy,
You paved in,
To nail down the,
Green glamor.
You turned into waterworks,
When the cut down
Was on process.
Jubilant than ever
when germination flourished.
Likes tots
You looked after,
To see none but their growth,
The nourishment you fought for,
Regardless of the circumstances.
Down to your end,
Still showed your solicitude
that the woes came directly from your heart.
Weeps, for our well being,
wails, to ensure we received raindrops.
Confidently you battled,
To ensure no dry day approached.
Your deeds reached accross generation,
A total mother of nature,
A legend never to be forgotten.
We will live to remember
Your wonderful work.ag
I wake up,
Feel the heat of your body beside me,
My heart beats
You are here.
I stir,
Reach out to the warmth
That was you
Your smell lingers ,
Coffee and toast fill the air.
My heart beats
You are here.
I open my eyes ,
Slide my hand into a new coldness.
Wet on my pillow,
Screams from my mind,
Remembering-you are gone.
I am still here.
I turn my face from the day
Wrapped in shrouds,
Just waiting for someone
To nail down the lid.
Why should my heart beat?
Without you
I don’t feel-here.
I am aroused,
Feel a force from within breaking free.
I beat the air with my fists.
Pound out my hurt,
Curse your name
You- you- oh why why
Did you go and leave me
Still here.
I awake,
Birds sing.
It’s a new day.
The empty space beside me now familiar.
You are gone
Yet once again my heart beats
-Still here-
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