Just A Pinch of Crazy
She was just a little girl
With big blue eyes
And she dreamed everyday
Of touching the sky.
The world watched her grow
And become a lady
A fearless woman
With just a pinch of crazy.
Her music touches the hearts
Of the young and old
Creating a relationship
That is inspiring and bold.
She doesn't carry bad blood
For those who bully her
She just fills the blank spaces
And leaves them in a blur.
With a pinch of crazy
She sings a love story
And after years of searching
Her lover becomes her glory.
Every word she writes
Becomes a part of a song
Every song she writes
Makes her reputation strong.
Haters are gonna hate
And say mean things
But she just shakes it off
And continues to sing.
Who ate the last dodo bird
thinking it would do just fine
for family Thanksgiving dinner?
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Irish tales of what a leprechaun gives away
If you don’t wear green on St Paddy’s Day
a painful pinch
Like Suisse’s Grinch,
a green tie or vest so invisible you’ll stay
by I Am Anaya
On St. Paddy's day I grabbed a lassie fair
kissed her lips and pinched her derriere
I so love this tradition
I'm a gent on a mission
Shall I go on I asked, she screamed don't you dare!
by Robert O'Gorelick
My lil green party dress for Paddy’s day is too tight
and I don’t want to get pinched by elves tonight
I let out the seams
And removed all that blings
Clear of Leprechaun’s with a big whiskey appetite
by I Am Anaya
Out on the razzle for Saint Patrick’s night
All dressed up in green, one has to look right
I’ll do my high kicks
As I can’t resist
Being a dare devil, and giving fright
by Beryl Edmunds
The six o’clock news
is on automatic
spouting static
while democracy
collides with
aristocratic
Gutter meets white house,
smells like an outhouses,
behind the Kremlin
on the Fourth of July
brings tears
to my eyes
I want to scream
but can’t wake up
from this dream
keep asking myself
why
why’d we do it
we had the chance
to change it
but then said screw it
and blew it
now were flying
headlong
head strong
into the end
gonna pay for that sin
again and again
with each stroke
of the marker
another freedom
sliced away
like a surgeon
before a holiday
no pain
no gain
just another step
backwards
until one day
we wake up
and find ourselves
with our tattooed
arms
straight out
Pretty Bluebird, where you are
Is where I want to be
Content just being in your midst
My heart and mind agree
In quiet contemplation
My thoughts kept to myself
As well as all the different dreams
In books up on the shelf
A constant waltzing heart beat
For you it doesn't rest
You'd recognize the rhythm
If you microphoned my chest
Yet while this goes unnoticed
I'm not just standing there
A million things are happening
Of which you're not aware
It all starts when I see you
Walking through that door
And when you say hello to me?
Butterflies galore!
Inside my senses screaming
Is she really there?
A pinch proves I'm not dreaming
Your presence, I'm aware
Pinch me, poke me
I still dream
Poets rattle
Every ream
Words don't fail me
As I fall
I want to capture
Love, is all
Blank page
Staring
At the start
Composition of the heart
Blues and blacks
They flutter by
Angel's wings
Ooh.. butterfly
Nighttime thoughts
Longing morns
Aching words
Birdsong dawns
They all inspire
A bit, it's true
But in my dreams
My dear, it's you
I The spice of life
Lasr twenty years and there’s no halt,
In all my matters you find fault…
One more dear, be quite clear,
Twenty and one more year,
And we are counting still,
You take it when I deal,
Tell me if you have any alt.
II Rebirth
Where in the hell, have you gone dead?
Here, dear, the husband showed his head.
If there be a rebirth,
This was fastest on Earth,
And made quicker thanks to wife’s dread!
III Let sleeping dogs lie
A portrait painter to a man:
Your wife so alive paint I can,
You’ll feel, she just would walk
To you and start to talk….
Let sleeping dogs lie now and then.
_______________________________
Limericks |01.08.2023|marriage, humour
Poet’s note: These limericks give the taste of a peculiar salt called Indian marriage. It often rubs in the wounds, but still the spice of life all the same. Yea, the ‘life’ of married life without which marriage would look pale. It is this salt that marriages last here. As to the third limerick, here is an apology to my female poet friends. As you know well, poetry is not something to be taken literally. A metaphor’s tone and tenor is not for literal transfer.
Dark, it stays,
Dark , it grows,
Darkness, only I say
Coz, only darkness it shows.
My thoughts though deep
But, I do think dark,
My life had a grip
But, no bright sparks.
The rainbow of joy,
Nevertheless, I saw
But what I enjoy,
No one seems to know.
Those colourful flowers,
Is the only I could smell,
Those unleashed powers ,
Are mine, I could never tell.
Braille for blind,
Gave me sticks to walk,
But, what about that mind,
Which never thinks or talks?
My powers, my strength,
All proved to be dark,
My ability to glance,
Was taken away, with sudden ray of spark.
My life goes dark as clouds,
Overloaded with only blackish dust,
But, still someone calls loud
To say, brightness is for sure and it is must...
~ Akshaya...
Pinch
Rarity often governs price,
and availability
more so, than the need,
and acceptance of what is on hand.
Pinch
Some say that stars are made
for wishing...myself~open to
all light;
Some say that stars are made for
reaching...such stretch good for
every man;
Often finding myself gazing up~a
hopeless dreamer, imagining
distant worlds of love and peace –
please don't pinch me....
A splendid job you did clinch:
One helping you to others pinch;
And warn them to not move an inch,
Freely going mad when they flinch,
Half hoping to a life lynch.
It has been your dreamt role:
To strokes of the cane increase;
And where there’s none try a pole,
Causes giving faces to crease;
The inhuman you unleash with ease
Of mounting pressures no release,
You’re advised to roles switch,
And at the sight of blood twitch.
nice church is a cinch
or we will go in a pinch
love it inch by inch
nice church is a cinch
or we will go in a pinch
love it inch by inch
A pinch of salt or even two
never enough, just will not do
But let it rain down, pour it on in
you'll get ulcers faster than with Mr. Clean
The sweet spot's somewhere in between ~
sodium bicarbonate and 'buttered pretzelines'
At a pinch I could live without chocolate,
And I could just about cope without a cup of coffee,
Or the loss of internet,
But the absence of anything worth reading,
And no pen and paper available to keep my creative juices flowing,
Would really start to bite.
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