The Southern Cross umbrellas a sparkling sky
A cool breeze refreshes after the blazing sun
Christmas lights twinkle amongst ohs and ahh
Children laughing excited everyone
Excited dreams as they are off to bed
Dreams of presents and fun on Christmas Day
Parents busy doing those things they do
All that’s left is Merry Christmas to all of you!
© Paul Warren Poetry
How beautiful would a star exploding be
or the sight of a cloud dipping it self in the sea
would negative matter unweigh
a bumble bee playing cymbals with its knees
if you can be engaged can you be just gaged
so this may sound of ramblings
cause i bought a herd of rambles
pulling misty thoughts into silver strands
that twine and twang
like rubbing bans the rules i diss
Obey with the longest of ohs
imagining a bay of swimming o's
i meant bans instead of bands
i hope you end of joyed
your vist
please don't feed the anomalies
No graph of photo flashed
for once it is done
it will only be repeated
I solemnly propose thirty seconds,
As it isn’t at all a search for diamonds
And hasn’t been delivering stronger, bonds:
Only pleasure-soaked “Ohs” and excited diphthongs
Almost always depleting a womanizer’s funds,
Wherefore intercourse should be a little longer than a cock’s
Or the time it normally consumes to put on ones socks...
Perhaps the time it takes a grenadier
To dive for cover after a throw
Or for the grudging handshake between a lack lustre brigadier
And a junior officer of more decorations and glow!
Preferably, the time it takes a cock
To perform its roles of a professional time announcer
Or the uninvited, not hard like a rock,
To be forcibly shown the door by a bouncer.
Orange poppies do grow
Over the river’s edge
Oasis of bright hues
Oaks, willows and pine trees
Oaths – ohs heard through prose
Oakmoss covering grounds
Ode to beauty’s prayer
Children squealed as others cried and grown ups simply clapped.
A giant Catherine wheel spiralled up and burst in flares.
Most colored pyrotechnics beneath the clouds got wrapped.
The ohs and ahs were heard as the sight dispelled all fears.
A giant Catherine wheel spiralled up and burst in flares.
The smell of gun powder filled the air, but no one cared.
The ohs and ahs were heard as the sight dispelled all fears.
It was a time to feast and cakes and iced beers were shared.
The smell of gun powder filled the air, but no one cared.
Most colored pyrotechnics beneath the clouds got wrapped.
It was a time to feast and cakes and iced beers were shared.
Children squealed as others cried and grown ups simply clapped.
30 December 2020
13 syllables per line
Fireworks Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Intro: Em G Em B7
Em G Em B7
Some people say a man’s made of mud
Em G Em B7
A poor man’s made out of muscle and blood
Em G Em B7
Muscle and blood and skin and bones
Em G Em G
A mind that’s weak and a back that’s strong.
Pre-chorus (muted strings)
Em G
You load sixteen tons and what do you get
Em B7
Another day older and deeper and debt
Em G
St. Peter don’t come get me ‘cause I can’t go
Em B7
I owe my soul to the company store!
Chorus
G D Em
And now, I lay me down to weep
B7 G D
I pray the lord to leave me be
B7 G D
And if I die before daylight
Am C
I pray the lord
C Em G Em B7
I tried to fight!
Mr. Hansel had a runny nose.
And every time it misbehaved,
The neighbors heard a lot of "Ohs!"
While his foes snorted giggles.
But Hansel didn't care about the nosey dribbles.
He worried more about the clock and runny time tables.
Days go by without words and kindness whim
He moves slowly as age tends to fail him
ohs, ows common persisting complaining
Once agile and active now weakening
Time was sweet and giving now with sorrow
Naive, “Is it today or tomorrow?”
Time just seems to creep along in his limbs
Now season sneak up behind him yet dim
Time doesn’t creep and slowly pours, it’s rapid
Once my hero, now alone since his passed
Time will not let me beg, steal, or borrow
Filled kiss my heart thirst for without sorrow
Silence wasn’t a word for the boy next door
Now I hunger, “You are all I long for”
11/28/2016
It is because I’m colored bright red
that I was chosen for their homestead.
Initially, I was quite well tended
but such care eventually ended.
Sure, their attention remains constant
but it's rarely from a cleaning solvent.
I love a scrubbing; I always want it.
My service is constantly required ...
clearly, it will be until I’m expired.
Hot, cold, old, fresh, mild or bold –
my people lack any quality control.
Despite my ceaseless working roll,
they fuss at me when I overflow.
Secretly, I enjoy their anxiety ohs.
Sometimes they argue if I’m found low
or interrupt me if they feel I’m slow.
They also share their genuine relief
when they find my service complete.
You may think filth and endless workload
have me sitting on complaint overload,
but won't once you chat with their commode.
Katurday and Iz plazs wit mee talky kat,
Ohs, hooman, it go away, me ballz;
Don't be stoopit, you gits itz oks,
Iz not fit under that bigz chairees.
Hay, Iz not fat, Iz jst fluffy,
PLZ, I is sad, sad, sadz, look at meeze;
Gets me da ball oks and I plazs happi wit uz,
Iz lizd . . . the ballz eez all minz . . .
_______________________
March 13, 2016
Poetry/Spoonerisms/Katurday Wit Mee Kat
Copyright Protected, ID 16-767-810-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
1
Yes, I miss the roosters,
like Gabriel's Horn calling me home,
Summer mornings 4:00;
Crayon Chickens
drawing everywhere there was dirt,
cackling, quarreling,
Cu-cu-ling those weird worrying uh-ohs
when the hawks circled,
Fleeing for the coops or the trees;
The vix and the vaseline,
got mixed up in the dark,
While whispering sweet nothings,
with me kangaroo in park,
It was 1963 ole mate,
nah wd40 didn't try,
With oohs n ohs a plenty,
Me aggots set to fry,
like a kangaroo dog climbing a post,
Till it gave up the bloody ghost,
Got up for tea n toast,
Nough to make a sand goanna cry??
Don ....don't do it....
MIDNIGHT ACT
Like a baby, she screams
Screaming like a radiant rat
Oh my god! Ohs! To the power of the one
That held her down, the gentle voice in the act of vigour
A voiceless cry singing : no woman no cry
When she saw her mate
She feels better to have, the heat that
Warms in a cool night
She hug, kiss, and caressed
Offloading herself to the nakedness of the mignight
When she enters the bed to meet
The high moving feelings in a hot dig
She voiced, softly in a action packed acts
LINCOLN AND NERO’S ADVICE
Okay kid, don’t listen to my advice
Just do what you’re going to do
But I can describe the desperation and price
And you’d have to twist the world for my words to be untrue
I remember being in the same exact position
He asked and I responded “yes, and the sooner the better”
It was made to sound like such a perfect proposition
Even when spelled out letter by letter
He swore it would float me to a land of love and lilacs grown
While the kid was envisioning a pristine prairie pure
He won’t charge you because no junkie wants to go down alone
He won’t charge you until he’s got you hooked with no viable cure
The man believed he had the kid in the palm of his hand
But for me I felt like Napoleon or Nero
The kid heard me and he said “no” then walked away to freedom’s land
And when the kid turned down the dope I felt like some kind of hero
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
“A poet’s pestilence – dash off from him away!
He is sickness and, because of this,
you, crazy, bring on home the plague
but you don’t know the verse bacillus is.
He’s garrulous, a tawdry trouble-maker,
plays rattle in the gaper’s front,
the rogue who wanna burn with water
and now he’s spoiling for the fight!
Like a musketeer he has a wick.
He keeps his powder in a musket.
With naked pendant, tight-rope freak,
of the untrodden thicket he’s a midget.
All jumble from the farce he takes.
He’s loopy not having any clue
and if you’re curious in ahs an` ohs
then you should know that all is from a glue”.
___________________________________________
The poet thinks all these words to himself.
God gave him gift not just for weight.
He’s bothering his soul to save
it from the wicked spirits hate.
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