yellow daisies bloom
yards explode with green grass
red faces playing
people who are dead set on a political candidate
but cannot come up with a single reason
but get furious with red faces if you do not believe
are irritating to me, and I think brainwashed
there is a notorious TV station that I believe has subliminal clips
a station that has been brainwashing these people
day after day after day
making them believe in this character
a character without any agenda except hate
a misogynist bully who puts down everybody
a man who does not pay the little guy
who weasels out of it claiming bankruptcy
people who are dead set on this guy
do not know his agenda
because he does not have one
I fear America is not getting great.
It is getting silly
propaganda by subliminal clips
telling people who to vote for
I wish the TV sets would go down for three months
Come with me to St Matthews cemetery
a flock of culpability
What are red faces for ?
The incidence of pious Rosetta
At the graves edge
he was returned
An avalanche of prayers
omits forgiveness
A life unworthily lived
unmatching the reverend
The bats resume their business
The uneasiness of the pews
Feathers are the sinews of hope
Their curved plumage
thinks well of an English Hill
I think I may come from and my
hole entire family are tomatoes
And this the reason I think why
is this
We all have and possess such
perennial rotten luck
Passed down from my Dad to
Bianca the baby
Red faces born out of total
and due to utter exasperation
Wondering why oh why
What on earth did or could we all
of us have done wrong
Each and every one of us tarred
with the same unsightly fate
Also knowing nothing is or will
ever change
Or we will ever get to know the
reason why
Either
Anacondas crush to pieces
Bisons sport long shaggy hair
Cheetahs are the fastest species
Dolphins leap into the air
Elephants have large incisors
Fennec foxes, ears like Spock
Great white sharks unnerve the divers
Hyenas are laughing stock
Indris is a type of monkey
Jaguars are fast and strong
Kangaroos are tall and clunky
Llamas' necks are rather long
Mandrills have red-bottomed features
Newts can grow an extra limb
Ostriches are speedy creatures
Polar bears just love to swim
Quetzels are ablaze with colour
Rattlesnakes subdue their prey
Sloths show life could not be duller
Tawny owls sleep through the day
Uakaris have red faces
Vultures scavenge on the go
Wild boar live in diverse places
X-ray tetra brightly glow
Yaks lock horns when in a fight
Zebras' coats are black and white
Now you'll know just who is who
When you visit London zoo.
22.02.20
Abecedarian Contest Poetry Contest - sponsor Caren Krutsinger
Abc Contest Poetry Contest - sponsored by Allright Poet
Here he smiles and there's such joy again!
Blue balloons and red; faces at the windowpane.
Now a green one, then a brown;
With his orange hair, why, he's a clown!
Sunrise yellows, pinks and purple;
Vivid colors attract little people
Each summer day without rain;
Every summer in the lane.
Footsteps follow him through marigold
As they did in the days of old.
"The Balloon Man is come! The Balloon Man!" all cry,
When sun greets a morning sky.
And return with many merry balloons,
And memories of golden afternoons;
As the clock ticks off happy hours
So gay, like little flowers.
The Balloon Man of sunrise days,
Is happiest when a child plays.
Such a red nose, why, he's a clown!
Much laughter 'til the lights go down.
"Let's hold hands."
I never wanted this.
I never wanted this.
But how did it get to this?
At first it was friendship,
Companionship they said!
Two hearts!
One mind!
We collide,like two birds in the sky,we flew on hope.
He wanted this,she wanted that!
I ran north ,she moved south.
Our tongues on the floor.
Regrets,red faces ,red flags.
True colours were showing.
I promised thy self that l would never fall in love again.
But here lam falling for you,
Knowing l would be hurt again,
Like a child l touch fire knowing it would burn me.
It does that to people.
Compromise is important.
It's never easy!
But we will make it easy!
For it is no fairytale.
Though it is a dream,I would not want to wake up.
We may not know what lies ahead, but let's be reckless and fall with the moment.
Surrendering fronds spread as
songbirds inspiration alights,
A wide-eyed newborn coos to
outer wonder in dressed whites.
Some children whispers in ears
while playing, swing set in motion,
as bundled toddlers climb aloft,
pushed in thorough devotion.
Carpets of cool colors change midst
breaths of frost wind of cold creams,
Blown visions drift, hugged smiles
of red faces in castaway dreams.
Snow angels and Frosty, sprinkles
warmth to their adoring fans,
As all grasp enjoyments structuring
their creative iced plans.
2019 September 10
A cacophony of sounds, all jumbled together
Random notes, dissonance everywhere
Violin bows saw the air lazily, effortlessly
Then furiously, chins pressed hard to instruments
Flautists' lips wistfully poised above the holes
In a flash, diving deep into spritely melodies
Trombonists' brass bars sliding outward, then back inward
Deep tones scale upward, peak, descend again
Trumpeters' cheeks bulge outward, double-chins aflame
Beet-red faces, fingers marching, horns tootling
Cymbals clang and clash! Drums beat and boom!
Clarinets clamor... A cello... An oboe... The conductor's in slow-mo.
All this, prelude to a performance quite grand
To the concert forthcoming -- Strike up the band!
On the fifth floor, and on the narrow staircases,
Porters raised the piano with angry red faces.
"My friends - you seems to like a light music?" -
Somebody asked them. The porters bruised him!
Is there any escape
from noise?
A crash, a rattle, a spoon in a cup
No rest for the wicked
Insistent buzzing piled up
Blaring horns
Lighted signs
Engines screaming in ears
So many angered red faces
Social media fears
To sit idle and quiet
Zazen tonic for nerves
An improbable concept
Driven on life’s oil slick’d curves
To slow
To ponder
To throttle it back
Oh, to step off of pavement
Rip out thick knotted phone jacks
But too much is this burden
Our man made bundle of sticks
Tied up with blood ribbons
Taking selfies for kicks
Not to know is too much knowing
Plagued by asking such questions
Turn thoughts off with pop-ups
Start the binge watching session.
Knocking on doors,
Collecting wood,
Penny for the "Guy",
All was good.
Catherine wheels,
Whistling rockets,
Treacle toffee,
Stuffed in pockets,
Every neighbour,
From our street,
Deadly rip raps,
Dance at your feet,
Charcoal spuds,
Potato pie,
Kids with sparklers,
And big bright eyes.
Dancing flames,
What a sight,
Teenagers with air-bombs,
Gave grannies a fright.
Trays of Parkin,
Black Peas galore,
Bonfire Night,
Was never a bore.
Rosy red faces,
From the heat,
Toffee apples,
Sticky and sweet.
Gloves and scarves,
Welly Bobs too,
Hat and coat,
We had a good do.
Kids of all ages,
So much fun,
Glowing embers,
The night was done.
Poppies clustering in an open field
While bright red faces wave above
The sun shining thru delicate petals
While more heads burst from below.
One single delicate flower it rests
On a slender stem with no leaves
Its simple beauty is a picture of
Nature’s example of less is more.
Immortalized in a familiar painting
From a well-known talented brush
But hidden away in unknown fields
Maligned for a drug it has made.
When did we make the poppy
Turn from a thing of beauty
Into a powerful instrument
That destroys so many lives?
Waving poppies, ruffled by the summer breeze, look up
At the deep sky and warm sun, pillows of clouds gentle
Contrast to the green below and the scattered red faces
With soul black eyes. Children’s voices ring like distant bells,
The sounds of happiness and the pleasures of life, undisturbed
By thoughts of harm.
But the flowers of the forest have no arching sky above
Only cold shadows and pools of dark water, with wriggling
Worms the only life. No laughing children lift the heart
And bring a happy smile, the distant bells a sombre cadence
That tolls for thee. No bright poppies shine in this decaying
World, only their soul black eyes.
And the lone piper plays his sad lament for
The Flowers of the Forest.
Pub in Yorkshire with stout and ale aplenty.
Red faces sweating with alcohol's influence.
Singing fine songs in reverie and ecstasy.
Salivating at arrival of that succulent essence.
Tender juicy slices of beef covered with gravy.
A splendour when touched by crispy bubbling pudding.
Roast potatoes smiling that wicked grin for tongue's activity.
Forks and knives clatter in haste for that delight of tasty supping.
Drowning that deliciousness with ale.
Rhyming lyrics midst throng of patrons' happiness.
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding you made me hale.
I will visit you often and celebrate tummy's warmth in merriness.
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