“Where have all the flowers gone,” the poet wrote
A metaphor for those lost in a cruel war of late
Lives that were wrested from home and family
And thrown into a milieu of humiliation and hate
No real purpose for forfeiting their young lives
In conflict that obviously portended no good ending
But then, what war of that magnitude ever does? --
Is worth our young servicemen and women sending
To sacrifice their lives for some undefined honor
Is it patriotism to assert ourselves in a foreign affair
Methinks there are ulterior motives unexplained
That did not justify the loss of lives way over there.
written November 5, 2021
Lush green vines linking pink florets
The couple skating on a crystal lake
Sprinkled about with tiny silver dots
I paid a fortune for this wedding cake.
Each cut a slice and took a big bite
The guests all ate what they were able
At some point the base completely gone
Two tiers crumbled down over the table.
I think the disaster portended the future
For longevity the marriage was not to see
Everyone took everything they wanted
My daughter and her child came back to me.
written July 21, 2021
One of the finest hours I can recall
Came at a momentous time in my life,
When I stood before the altar, so tall,
Took Deborah Anne Going for my wife
Because, before, my life was full of strife
I was floundering along, life quite dull
In my early forties, a dismal lull,
I wondered what life for me portended.
Everyone of my friends’ lives seemed so full
Deb came along, my life became splendid.
written June 23, 2021
[Thinking about my wonderful wife, Deborah,
who passed away on November 22, 2018.]
Dark clouds portended the blizzard coming
Out of the west, ‘tis the perfect time of the year
Crops are harvested, the northern chill is numbing.
Whistling sounds of the sharp winds we hear
Surrounding our house with an eerie, ungodly siren
Out of the west, ‘tis the perfect time of the year
Inside, the family is seemingly snug and serene
Lest the snow piles up high and banks against the door
Surrounding our house with an eerie, ungodly siren
We have experienced this feeling many times before
When our hearts beat rapidly while our minds reconsider
Lest the snow pile up high and bank against the door
Sheltered against the anticipated cold so bitter
Creatures awaiting the remembered Arctic blast
When our hearts beat rapidly while our minds reconsider
Then, suddenly, the latch on the door pulls fast
Dark clouds portended the blizzard coming
When our hearts beat rapidly while our minds reconsider
Crops are harvested, the northern chill is numbing.
Written January 24, 2021
Submitted to Heart Universes Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Ascend away
with me
my
warrior goddess
I’ll show you
the birth of
stars
we can
reminisce
ruminate
become
our remembrances.
Cohere to me
we will
dissipate into
the core of
that great tempest
creation’s advent
behold!
Escape with me
to the myriad
cosmos
of our beginning
our inception
our origination
when universes
swallowed
primeval worlds.
I entreat you
place the ageless
nectar of
worlds on your
hungry lips
quench
satisfy
assuage
the need.
Let us
fill ourselves
with galaxies
and stars
and dimensions
of mighty
invincible realms.
Ascend away
with me
my
warrior goddess
to the glorious
nascence of
our wonderment
where first our
unity was
prophesied
portended
wrought.
(click on the pic to preview my poetry book!)
keep the music sorrowfully low,
so big daddy doesn’t hear.
the shadowy figures, surrender
and whisper in your ear.
the psychedelic colors flow
like the sea foam beat.
Angie, your chromatic hair
smells incandescently sweet.
locked and loaded, alone
with your beastie dreams.
your pillow’s soft and it leans -
your coming apart “at the seams”
one boy plays peek-a-boo, sniffing
your honeysuckles suspended.
tickled by your goldilock curls,
not realizing all it portended.
like walking into the deep dark wood,
he creeps hand and foot, eyes first
like a prowling tiger, tail wagging,
with a rattling tongue a-thirst.
Angie, swooshes her fingers
through his hair, hushes him.
...he stares at the ceiling stars
...loud music descends on his limbs.
Angie digs her embryonic duffel bag,
smiles and adds his decomposing bones
to the ashes of her huge imagination
and recalls that in this world, she’s all alone.
5/8/2019
Musical Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Song choice: Angie, Baby by Helen Reddy
*written in real time*
The clouds portended rain hours earlier
But I chose to venture out anyway
I failed to heed the forecast
The skies changed from a blue to a gray hue
The downpour is heavy and the clashes
Of thunder is incessant
Yet I'm in no hurry to reach my destination
So I'll wait out the torrential rain
I have neither an umbrella nor a raincoat
So I seek shelter to kill time; too cold to get wet!
Lest lightning forks it's tongue into me,
I'd rather watch the pelting rain toss rings...
Into water puddles in rapid succession
Creating ripples. It's a captivating sight!
I'll patiently wait here until
The rain subsides.
WEEK 1 MARCH 2019,any form-theme,upto max of 20 lines
Sponsored by Brian Strand (Winner: 1st Place)
Date written and posted: 04/02/2016
Sitting on a lonely bench,
Memories got me blenched,
Your heart I tried to clench,
Though, the rains got me drenched,
From hearts I needed to entrench...
Your words not retrenched,
From things I wanted to bent,
While you often tended to bend,
Without letting me mend...
You, I tried to fend,
You borrowed and erased the times I used to lend,
Manipulated and used by you,
Pretending to be a friend...
From hallows I ascended
From errors you descended,
My life wished to be attended.
Even though, you got me expended,
My hands were still extended,
Even though, you got me offended...
The times I misspended,
You still condescended me,
Though, the changes were about to be impended,
I was still amended,
And I was still intended...
But, I was not comprehended,
Even though, you were condemned and untamed,
While I was aimed to be blamed,
Still, more thing you wanted to borrow and gain...
Although, this is the end,
The ways, I will paint,
For the pains to get unbended,
As I contemplate nature and life,
With memories that swayed and portended,
As my soul slowly transcended,
While sitting on a lonely bench...
Zeke and His Old Lady Ride Again
By Elton Camp
Men trembled when Zeke appeared
In his black leather jacket and beard
When he and his gang rode into town,
Why, even the sheriff would back down
His defiant look and motorcycle roar
Portended what might well be in store
It was Lou who his “old lady” became
Sexy and trim, she was quite a dame
On his Harley the two rode together
Terribly fearsome birds of a feather
They were the terror of the highway
As such, they couldn’t always stay
Childbirth took them off the road
The two moved into a family mode
Lou became a part-time file clerk
Zeke at a repair shop went to work
Occasionally, they will ride a bit more
But things are not as they were before
Old Zeke hobbles a lot these days
It’s two hundred pounds Lou weighs
WHICHEVER CLOSET IS CLOSEST
Our closet now bares itself of frilly things in silk and lace
My soul was her embrace
our mirror is now minus her face
a reflection that portended perfection
sans any necessary correction
a facial fantasy framed by winsome wisps of wondrous waves
cascading through the constellation of her golden hair
the hues from the brightest star in the galaxy we would share
and dared to decline when night would declare we bid each other adieu
because in our hearts was still the salty aired sky of blue
spent by the water while whittling away at another Autumnal day
when a few stubborn leaves refused to infuse themselves with the color of Septmber
a day I will always remember
and those leaves, like us, would bow to a lover’s call
a tree to shed the dead and stall the fall
but now she’s gone away, it’s true
she said perhaps for a week or two
but something tells me otherwise’
maybe it was the look in her eyes
as the lady said her hushed goodbyes
so I just may miss the Miss sublime
for the remainder of my languid lifetime
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Tainted Oilman Hayward, geologist-in-chief
Oddly opined amidst deep misery and grief
He said the oil spill would have a modest impact
Did not want the “small people” to over-react
Yachtsman saw a “tiny” leak in the “big ocean”
Wanted to stop the oil spill, without commotion
Did not grasp the urgency of the Gulf Coast plight
Until the president said you will “make it right”
Then, he agreed the spill caused “massive disruption”
Touched his own life, with a massive interruption
Frustrated Hayward said he wanted his life back
While oil spill victims tried to keep their lives on track
His self-serving words invoked disbelief and wrath
Spread swiftly and portended his demotion path
After facing lawmakers on Capitol Hill
Hayward flew to London for a yacht racing thrill
Gulf Coast residents became extremely upset
They could not relax while the oil was still a threat!
Rebuked and scorned in each befuddled Gulf Coast town
The embattled yachtsman was ordered to stand down
Hayward got his life back, in a timely fashion--
More free days to pursue his yacht racing passion
Sparkling black eyes aglow with love's ember
Appending lashes; swabbed cinders caressing
Sleek dark hair rippling waves of splendor
Blue, silk ribbon her coiffed crown dressing
Ashen, pale face from decorous rim recessing
Elegant, powdered neck; regal grace extended
Carefully preened bosom; each, fertile fold cresting
Slender, undulating hips; each, sensuous move portended
Gilded ring with her noble birth appended
Silver monogrammed bracelet; familial license her style to sanction
Ornamental brooch, sentimental heirloom; fealty commended
Bridled love flowing freely with matrilineal unction
Mother's vicarious virtue strained into the vial of innocence
Blighting charm causing each froward step to be made with reticence
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