there was a vespa parked on road
billy the buffalo had never rode
it was huge hundred pounds
the vespa struggles under the sound
billy's bellow made it sickly plead
for peace against the massive beast
billy started the vespa fast
and horned loud and rode it past
houses looked at it with awe
uncle hari nicked his ear in awe
the dogs of street glared at it
people in their car stopped to see
it raced and raced till it reached the race
"STRONGEST SPORTS CAR WILL RACE"
billy entered the race with vespa
the poor thing almost collapsed hard
yet raced against fierce cars
till it reached the ending point bars
the buffalo got off and took the prize
the human in car watched in demise
the vespa took a final breath
and fell down on the pavement left
billy jumped into the lake
it had won the race for the vespa's sake
The Beauty Of Baseball Poetry Contest
Matt Caliri
A supposedly wide-open, empty street
A rubber ball, a plastic bat, and a real game.
Kids playing to the baseball beat
The diamond asphalt is just the same.
Lines are drawn, and teams are picked.
The pickup games are for bragging rights
Where emotions are high, and egos are nicked.
Some kids haven't reached their grown heights.
The bigger ones hit the longer ball
The little tots hit short liners that hit parked cars.
Homers hit homers over the wall
A neighbor’s house is seeing stars.
Foul balls find a garden bed
Where a stampede of kids thrashes the roses.
A homeowner is cussing and seeing red.
Today's game comes to an end and forecloses.
Tomorrow’s stars have a dream
To play on the big stage.
Where it all started with the pickup teams
On the streets and to the homeowner’s rage.
Baseball is America’s pastime.
Hot dogs, sunflower seeds, and lemonade fill the plate.
There is a passion and a youthful chime
And these kids arrived early and don’t want to be late.
Well hard as they might fight and try
So tight are rarely barely getting by
Sigh jobs squarely unfairly go to AI
Picked nicked then flicked on the sly
No sorrow poor borrow more to buy
Tricked by CGI lie from a cloudy sky
Social media spy pigs in the Tech sty
Future can’t deny no one gets a bye
Suitor will be AI then humans will defy
Pyrrhic critics decry but it is do or die
Titans fight for their piece of the pie
White collar all about the dollar guy
Dash for stash of cash ultimate high
Purloining while just coining on the fly
Spend as know the end is almost nigh
Flash rash brash greed splash they ply
Keys for wheeze must seize or will pry
Happens so fast they have cast the dye
Command it’s about demand & supply
Sycophant pant a creamy dreamy chai
Ego blast will last with your past will vie
Perverse creed gets worse this the storm's eye
Sow the seed impede our swede teed up & fry
Won't conform will curse why must I lie with AI
Plead don’t need IT to perform bellow thy lullaby
No go slow mellow Hello but a wry dry Goodbye
Sat on the veranda in Cape Verde
to eat my chicken and rice
it was so hot
I thought a drink would be nice.
I go in for refreshement
then came out to be
back with my meal
but what did I see?
A cat nicked my chicken
the birds ate my rice
now my plate was empty
and scraps wouldn't suffice.
Now I no how 'they' feel
when the tables are turned
and they are so hungry
lesson now learned.
I sense the scorching truth doth lap my toenails ~ or am I being tricked
satan asked his chiropodist ~ who hath nicked him bad but truly licked
By
David Kavanagh
When will Baz..Ben & their men ken..learn
Despite or to spite the "has beens" concern
Trouble to rubble only listen to their bubble
That Bazball trite shi*e they're always right
Be true to thine self.. the cover drive shelf
Lack that knack & gift to swiftly shift back
On pacy racy turfs where the conker surfs
Play it late and don't hit it on the up mate
Wafts of wishing fishing on the 5th stump
Down in the dump chump will then flump
Snag trumped by the ball that did rag jump
Nicked to slip or off the glove it did thump
Rascals debacles and wickets castled slump
Head more pizzazz..razzmattazz did gazump
Smoother purer surer bravura groover jazz
Baz did kowtow to an Aussie..now take a bow
OZ's wizard of the wood blizzard was that good
Y'all we should clearly really call it "TRAV or is that CHAV BALL !
I’ve kept the bone-ash circle open—
chalked in wax traced from your last reply,
the one you coughed out sideways
between a mirror and an echo,
Just to reiterate, it read.
(Though you’ve unsent it now—
the smoke still mouths it back.)
The salt forgets which door to guard,
whether you're enemy or friend.
My tea leaves knot themselves
into nooses. The knife won’t keep
its edge unless I say your name
with my mouth full of soot. You know
who you are.
We only spoke three times—
I still remember your laugh.
I burned your coat—
the one already nicked at the cuff,
lined with lint and one of my hours.
The smoke limped east,
then circled back.
I still leave the latch loose.
Not for you—
just in case
some ghost with your gait
remembers how
my spine once knocked
like a drum left running.
Claws
nick me
healing my ailment;
A quick love bite
playful.
Lucky wasn’t.
Lucky was his nickname.
Lucky played around.
Lucky sunk his head into the dresser.
Knock Knock.
“Who’s there?”
The bed stopped rocking
and answered the emergency call.
The next day was sunny
and Brother D was working.
Brring…brring…
Yes, Lucky wasn’t.
He played around the recliner
and nicked his knee.
“What do you mean it’s another emergency?”
Twice in twenty-four, he scored.
Lucky was his nickname.
Lucky wasn’t.
A small vial,
I’ve nicked it,
A bottle of tequila,
Aren’t I a delinquent,
My heart is racing
Against my mind,
What a craze
To be foolish and hungry,
Must be clever,
even more cunning,
I’ll Regret this forever?
Never know ‘till I try…
Can’t forget the promise
I’m leashed to,
Said I wouldn’t again...
Now where to?
Maybe i’ll just tell him,
He’s doing the same kinda,
Even last night,
He told me if I felt up to it…
She longed for the touch - of a caring man
who understood her poetry - be her biggest fan
She waited several decades and many star lit nights
just to feel his hands - in afternoon delights
She yearned for a man - but never did he come
Cupid shot his arrow and only nicked his thumb
She once believed in Love and hoped with all her heart
for a caring honest man - but cupid forgot this part
She spent many nights and days and weeks alone
cursing stupid cupid - for leaving her on her own
She thought about the moral – that this poem brings
an epiphany arose – Cupid lost his wings.
I loved him in a Summer's breeze,
though Summer ripened into Fall.
His Winter arms, a cooler squeeze,
a chill became an April squall.
A season's moment left ungrasped.
I thought of love, but love is blind.
Its daydreams easily unclasped.
Untended, quickly they unwind.
He left in Summer, with no glance;
his mythful "white horse" ran away.
My heart, he nicked with paper lance.
I can't recall his face today.
Promises penned in Summer's air
are lost as they waft everywhere.
March 20, 2023
for "A Simple Poetry Contest" poetry contest
by John Lawless
he wove his spells meticulously
constructed each with loving care
each component ingredient chosen
from the very best that there were
and of course his care was rewarded
his fame just grew and grew and grew
but he had a secret ambition
that only he and I knew
from his inter dimensional office
he could hop through time and space
gloat at the awe and wonder displayed
on his primitive audience collective face
and he travelled worlds and eras
revelled in his universal fame
enjoyed the sense of power
inspired by his worshipped name
but dimension security enforcement
was rapidly closing in on his crime
for his moving skills back and forth
was playing heck with congruent time
he knew his days were numbered
but his preparations were all but made
to achieve his yearned for ambition
the final plans were all but laid
with just mega seconds to its fruition
he was very sadly and deviously tricked
into revealing his current location
and was very quickly nicked
he never achieved his ambition
it remained his secret as well
of course I knew the details
but I promised not to tell
Here lies James Jacob McInerny
Died of hemorrhoids at forty-three
Sick of something nobody gave,
Scratched himself into an early grave
Nicked his bud while trying to shave.
Written November 6, 2022
This surely can't be right
I'll have to take it as a slight
Where is her lacy veil of flies?
Woven from years of our lies
It's gone missing from her face!?
This I'm hoping is only a phase...
Sears my eyes to see her like this
She surely seeks to end my bliss
Why even let her loose in our midst
Isn't there a law we can lean against
Oh dear God! What's going on now?
What an ungodly sound we allow!
It appears she's trying to speak!
I mean, to even have the cheek!?
Is she pretending to be human?
A fake siren bringing a bad omen
And what's that rolling down her cheek?
Didn't anyone even bother to check?
Quick, let the cops in! over here!
She's gone and nicked a real tear!
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