dog drops like an old bag of bones
tail chasing finished for now
he snores and gasps in monotones
I’ll come back as a pup next life, I vow
In the Land of the Lost, on my floor;folks crazed
A wod jane does yell trash in flush room.; felt miffed
My nerves tense, on this floor -I’m on edge;feel brash
Here 8 months there is no hope in sight; feel stiffed
There’s an old bag here that bums for cash; she’s trash
How to be sane ? I then write poems; do art
Strange sounds comes when my roomy does sleep-old old pfart
I tell him stop it please I crash hard; mind dazed,
Need more cash to live here.I say your; bucks due.
Funds, ask your kin be nice small talk will help you
First two floors and 3 west folks seem not so bad.
I hope the other wards are fairer, am glad,
Nice things to state about the Vigi,caff great.
I like tuna sarnies all dressed please;first rate
I am finished with this poem with much heart .
There we were - Alf and I - Pharaohs,
surveying those white pyramids -
Nests of ibis - ovulating -
Opera.
Across the bridge we danced,
Swaying o'er the waves below -
Spectred lovers on a phantom ship -
Drifting snug into port - oh, so were we.
Yes, There we were - Alf, you - left me,
As you cantered away on your white steed.
I'm diverting - like a white capped copper
By the Circular Quay - away -
From Darling Harbour - rolling -
Onto the Rocks.
Yet, in Neutral Bay,
I - last - heard you say,
You'd be selling me down
At King's Cross.
So bye - my Alfie - it's over -
Just city lights and squalor - for me -
With whisky and history - this old bag lady
Stares dreamily over the sea.
The ancestral shackles I feel - loosening,
Pushed out - by the will to be free.
The Neighborhood
all trees
eyes please
The Neighbors
help out
act out
The Birds
they’re free
to flee
The House
barn red
homestead
The Driveway
steep high
blue sky
The Squirrels
mouse gray
spry play
The Tree
old bag
sights flag
The Flag
source-stripes
stars-hype
The Wind
whistles
bristles
The Moss
green spreads
it treads
The Owl
beware
its stare
Our Home
full of
God’s love
Over All
pleasant
present
I have been attending to a sick Chevy.
My neighbor
who I never talk to
or about,
has left a note on the hood
of the truck...
both a warning and a threat:
that the cops have or will be,
or may in the future
be notified!
I think I will have to have
the vehicle humanely put-down.
There’s no fixing the old bag
next-door though.
fine lines sketched into my mirror
how did they get there? weathering
the decades, furrowed brow, creased
eyes with bags am i an old bag -
nonsense.
the mirror crack'd with an angry
whiplash i had to take a look
at my life, evaluate, extenuate
my outlook. hope for this old hag -
that kind of self talk for the birds.
bright city lights, broadway trimmed
my mirror looking extravagant, even
with its pits, spots, wrinkles of time
better lived than alone
am i a crackpot? If i am
i’m sipping from a loving cup
grateful for the full ride
i abide in the faithful arms
of Jesus Christ
his mirror was treacherous, scarred
his countenance was cracked
so much so that he was unidentifiable
except for the blood that loved
that exuded pure love
if i’m proud, my self is humbled
i’ll take those tracks - there is
traction in suffering and giving back
to my fellow man
lightly i cover up those wrinkles
only to blend this well-lived face
i face my reflection, satisfied
without indiscretion’s distraction
3/10/2023
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
What's in my old bag
I have a hard candy
I have a old note books filled with old scramblings
I have a torn out Pokemon little box
I have a broken cup given to by my granny
I have a ancient light bulb
I have a not working ink pen
I have a screwdriver
I have a yellowed piece of tissue paper
I have a photo of my grandpa
I have a remnent of my school cards
I have a cap of Pepsi
I have a empty tin of soup
I have a wrapper of KitKat ages old
I have a destroyed USB cable
I have a few old bucks not able to be spent
I have a few old coins
That's all I have in my old bag
I
I met a fellow from Lackamoral Town
He wore high heels and a luxurious gown
He said to me, “I do drag,”
I said to him, “Why, you old bag!”
To which he responded with an awful frown.
Written June 11, 2022
Baby snails had a garden race,
old gnome would time their hasty chase,
slow jo, low creep lined up at crease,
both bragged they would win it with ease,
the race started with wave of flag,
three feet from big pot to old bag
“Angels!” he said “can’t wait anymore!”
when the race finished they heard him snore!
1st placement
Written 07/March/2021
Eve Roper sponsored
Nursery rhyme poetry contest
syllables 8 each line and 9 last tow lines!
Is this what it seems?
Tune of "Islands in the Stream"?
Old bag singing in the shower,
Gravity sucks, with its dower,
You'll get old too, you see,
Don't laugh at old chicks like me!
she is standing
on the sill of the door, she is waiting
sight on the end of the going away road
for the postman, she is waiting
o yellow envelope
you are coming
hand by hand
the torn old bag carries you
o yellow envelope
you are coming
under the lamp-post
by the day, by the night
by the cycle, on the foot
through summer to a rainy day
through various village field
the Postman touches your skin
take a while and reads your address
at last he reaches and gets your destination
look, she is still standing under the moon-lit
standing, breathing, crossing longest wink
a dawn crow is cawing
but the yellow envelope comes to her with tears!
-April 23, 2019, Chattogram
There's a bag I like to keep,
A lil' ol'e bag
O' mine.
Its green
Canvas build,
Its BSA
Tag, its
Frayed edge
So fine.
This lil' o'le bag
O' mine.
What is kept inside its fine green frame?
A couple o' pencils, a stack o notebooks,
A lockpick set and padlock (for fidgeting)
Brown good-luck stone and a pen-knife.
It is all in this little old bag of mine.
They give what they don't have:
Leaving their children to
the lion's paw to devour them,
while addressing the ills
of others' children.
1)Wroughting diverse miracles are they.
2)Skilled in elating words,
even bailing heart out from
turmoil's prison.
'Nemo dat qoud non habet':
Giving out what
they haven't used.
3)Bought a new bag
for your old bag is worn.
But you gave it out
to your neighbour
who has seven better ones.
While you pack your
stuffs in a polythene?.
Giving your cakes to dogs!
4)Taking care of another man wound,
While yours can't help oozing:
Even swarms of flies taking picnic theirin.
"Even if you have what you can't use. Life will not reveal it."
Dispose the heaps in your eyes,
That you may see clearly to blow off the
substance in other's eyes!
Heal your wound first...
And many will patronise!
17:2:12:20:19
The Weight of Education
School bag
Backs sag
Heavy heart
Suitcase
Warped face
Outdated
Old bag
Rats nag
The Friendly Postman
Mailbag
Tails wag
Aviation Crisis
Handbag
Wrong tag
Trends
Rag bag
So swag
Time Travel
Pack bag
\
...............................
/
Jet lag
On the edge of darkness, the knife still dwells, within the shadows of my hellish torment, there you will find my remains, cradled in the dying earth, where time shall becoming the beating of my lost and shattered heart.
Tick tock, goes my heart, the hours grow ever long, a dreary day unlike the pain, that I once had to endure, through the aching of the dying soul trapped within my frame.
Eyes of the old, always saw through the fog, a fog off sheer terror where the blood once flowed like an electrical impulse, stimulating the hunk of flesh that was once my mind.
Now my body lays still beneath the earth that once gave me existence, veiled by the fog of the long since forgotten days,
waiting...waiting for a soul to inhabit this old bag of bones.
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