The island once was a sweet emerald blessing
with chorus of sugar and spice atop salty sea breeze.
A stowaway soon arrived on the scene...
A brown snake with a smile of poisonous sheen.
At first it sang a duet with the pips and the peeps
but it is deaf and only exists to distract and deceive.
Soon after, the chorus had become quite extinct
no more sugar and spice atop salty sea breeze.
The brown serpentine is staring at the horizon
flicking a frantic fork at the neighboring islands.
ANGIE Tuesday kept singing
You are UNDER MY THUMB
YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT
Her sister RUBY TUESDAY
Tended to WILD HORSES
With three HONKY TONK WOMEN
It was a normal morning
Until Bill, better known
TUMBLIN DICE rode home at speed
Bill had rode with a great news-
The ROLLING STONES band was
visiting Neighboring town
All folks rushed out and out
Town was empty in jiffy
Like someone had PAINT IT BLACK
Bill chuckled, rested real nice
For once in all calmness
Without Angie or her song
we thought Trump would bring peace
his solution is to expulse the Palestine people
into neighboring countries, it is madness
To take Gaza and turn it into a resort for the rich
and hand it over to Israel
Shall we witness this tragedy in silence?
The Middle East
When the persecuted became persecutors
chaos followed; what a mess the Middle East is
Both sides of the conflict like killing one other
up pops more fanatics with eager knives
If you are an Arab Christian, your life is short
if you are a Muslim, they will give you the key
to London and the neighboring locals
Is there such a being as a Christian Jew?
There are Orthodox Jews, men with braided
hair, wearing black hats and dark suits
round glasses make them look scholarly
Their women stay in the background when
on their back, giving birth to yet another
anti-war Jew
In Syria, Assad has fled, prisons are emptying
people are jubilant, but hang on, prisons will
be full again of the new regime's enemies
I read, but can it be true, that the Saudis are the Jews
of antiquity; one can say they love money
and kill their opponents, whether in an embassy
or in a café eating lamb chops
In the meantime, we ask ourselves, will Syria be
Afghanistan, where women get beaten for showing
not a leg, but a pale face of suffering
All is not lost,
the Syrians in Sweden and Germany
are heading back to their homeland
For S and G, a burden lifted
The whole of Eastern Samar
Is commemorating its historic
Battle joined by local patriots
Of Balangiga and neighboring towns
On September 28 1901, the only battle won
By fighting Filipinos against the Americans
That we call now the Balangiga Encounter of1901
This heroic act in that part of Samar
Placed the Balangiganons and the Waray townspeople
In the realm of historic significance
All for independence and democracy
The final return of the Balangiga Bells
Brought in a global laurel to this very remote town
That has now stood more prouder yet humble
For the ultimate sacrifice by their forebears
For love of country and people.
autumnal colors
close neighboring planet skies
equinox sunsets
red hue leaves tussle
woodchuck pops from its burrow
dog sniff, yelps in pain
quiver across limbs
perching mockingbird's mimic
nightly shooting stars
9/18/2024
I wish to neighbor the some of the worlds,
yes, neighboring them in the morning and afternoon
and evening air
and when night brought her blanket towards tomorrow.
three faeries with beautifully veined transparent wings arrived at midnight
Not unlike Pan who had been there before, they brought happiness light.
Their mission was to add some levity and joy to the current night life
I sneaked up on them in silence, feeling more voyeur than young wife.
Silent in the deep weeds, I watched the three faeries frolic and play in fun.
If I made a loud song, they would be gone way before the returning sun.
At three a.m. I sneezed, and the entire faerie brigade stood perfectly still.
“Come on out!” one demanded, staring at the neighboring hill.
Out came a dragon, a buzzard, two raccoons, a squirrel, a frog and a fish.
The fish was in a bowl, being carried by the raccoons, as if a delicate dish.
We will teach you some dance moves, the faerie queen said, “okay?”
More was going on, but a the sandman in a dream whisked me away.
I know what I saw, I am not wrong about that.
I still see these three faeries, at the drop of a hat.
Sometimes I sneak out at midnight to try to glimpse them again.
So far, I have come up empty, but some day, it will be a win.
Oh, Ezra, I feel your sorrow
Tearing your tunic and cloak
Pulling hair from head and beard
Sitting down with heart broke
A teacher versed in Law of Moses
Given by the LORD God of israel
Hearing the priests and Levites
Mixing with neighboring people
Everyone who trembled at the
Words of God of Israel
Gathered around Ezra because
Of unfaithfulness of exiles
We fnd ourselves in similar situations,
The "Persia" of then is now Iran,
Our America is divided on various fronts
It seems difficult for any plans
Is it not time we join Ezra's example
As he prayed from deep serf-abasement?
Is it not time we fall on our knees praying to God
For America's misplaced, sinful discontent?
The Israelites gathered around Ezra
They, too, wept bitterly in remorse
Could it happen in USA?
Dear LORD, our ways have strayed far off course
-Evelyn Pearl Anderson
Nothing rivaled the lemonade in Georgia.
Now, you could also find some damn good lemonade in the neighboring state of South Carolina. Virginians liked to think they too made fine lemonade, and it was better than anything north of the Potomac.
But the best was in Georgia.
And people in the good old days really did drink their lemonade on a lazy, late summer afternoon on the front porch of their wooden house as their kindly old dog, usually a Labrador or a golden retriever, lay down by their feet.
It happened exactly like that.
Just the way you’ve always pictured it.
The night rain had shorn
my neighboring trees
standing so stalwart
in their convivial circle four.
The wistful dawning
be shining on skeletal shapes
Hung with but scarce few
yellowed-brown-sienna leaves
to drape their skinny heights.
For the force of Wind and Fall
had stripped
their grace of arms
quite bare.
Yet
within those skeletal swaying branches,
untouched
by rain or snow or wind,
Flows their elixir pure
but awaiting the hand of Spring
to fashion dress
with fresh new-green attire
my neighboring family four.
Would such certainty
had I
Seeing fallen
upon my treeless
ground of zero
pieces that once were me.
Only a ‘perhaps’ have I
that I and me
again might see
the comfort of a greening Spring,
Might feel anew
warmth eternal,
that in a winter moment
does seem
so spectral faint
to be.
past knoxville and idaho city there are a pair of adorable nitwits.
townspeople refer to them as kooky oddballs, a couple of twits.
their name is easy to learn. she is backward ditz; he is fritz.
brown eyes are lop-sided, their glances can be the pits.
watch out! cautions their neighbor, they will bore you to bits.
they showed up one day unexpectedly during a neighboring blitz.
I heard they were parisians, but another told me they are brits.
fritz can do a weird almost-hand-stand, and ditz does the splits.
twits do not put on airs; neither abides by the ritz or any glitz.
they eat bland foods like porridge, oatmeal, and plain grits.
calico cats come to them all the time, presenting them with kits.
their fighting is so common, their eyes are swollen to slits.
fritz likes to knit, so their house is full of junk that he knits.
afghans, scarves, hats, potholders, and unusable oven mitts.
ditz does not wash her hair, so it is full of lice, bugs and nits.
also have zits, and they have performed some really weird skits.
Today the bomb went off in the city,
Shattering my peace and bringing pity,
The neighboring building, now a ruin,
Burning possessions, a heartbreaking tune.
Roofs crashed down, walls destroyed,
Innocent lives caught in the void,
Screams for help, hands in the air,
A tragedy that's too much to bear.
The birds still sing, the cats still purr,
The flowers bloom, with a gentle stir,
And in these simple joys we find,
A solace, in our troubled minds.
Hope and dreams are still alive,
Despite the war, we still survive,
The scars of war, etched deep and wide,
Will heal in time, with love and pride
Writers and artists, still create,
To show the world, there's more than hate.
For though the world may seem so torn,
We'll keep on living, and be reborn.
Alla Antsis
March 29, 2023
Owning a barn was one of your wish lists
Reaping a fruit tree is not a work of an altruist.
They said blueberry jams are your favorite
Wonder if you’ll eat them at once: Savor it!
Did you collect eggs from a tired hen?
Did you rip off the sheep’s clothing in a pen?
I wonder what the old cow said when you milked him out.
Life must be exhausting: He wished to pass out.
How could a mule please your self-conceit?
I’ve heard your grown cattle gave you money and a receipt.
What did the turkey do to provide you with a thanksgiving feast?
The neighboring animals grin; they must be on their feet.
Does being a Welsh pig make you feel like a “Babe in the City”?
How could you allow your fierce cats to act like a kitty?
Raising fowls, geese and pheasants is a nice venture.
Should you stop “milking cow” for once: It’s such torture!
(Should parents use their children as an investment?)
Eyeless, forehead-less amoebae-like dull cloud piece,
Resembling, other times, a mermaid in white fleece;
Silly soul! Yet, engendering panic just like,
The Satan? Beelzebub? It spins my psyche...!
Chemicals of stories heard seep into my mind,
Sensory organs stand erect, to fear, resigned;
When the moody mind molds it into a monster,
Personality proves paranoid-prone poker...!
I used to find one in the neighboring forest,
Betwixt barks of trees it cooed as though chorused;
Midst tall-grown grassy bushes it leisurely strolls,
With the breezes, winds, storms, gales, and doldrums it scrolls...!
Ghost has been growing up within my flesh and blood,
In my thoughts and feelings and actions, it flings mud;
Though the concept of ghosts is a mere illusion,
Is my mind ready to get rid of its fusion...???
22 February 2023
Writing Challenge - G Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
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