SEA OF ROSES
It was a sad affair and heartbreaking
Two girls murdered, whilst at school
Yet of course, no knives was the rule
Young lives were there for the taking
The area’s now a carpet of red flowers
One child named Rose, now resonant
The other was Poppy, equally poignant
As each tiny lit candle would last hours
The local florists had to restock roses
And red poppies were another request
Taken by hand, then also laid to rest
As eventually every door finally closes
National media came and filed the story
The ‘sea of roses’ shown on all the news
The local press did photos and interviews
Sadness and anger was almost obligatory
Roses for love, Poppies for remembrance
Those red petals almost paved the street
That imagery was both bitter and sweet
There for weeks at the school’s entrance
And here you are
on the end of a smile
that doesn't seem to fit
your face, caught
in the startle of a flash,
still and ageless
after all these years.
I wonder what thoughts
were in your mind
when the shutter clicked
to hold you there,
a wafer of who you were
back then, set free of time
to surface here, unchanged.
I will never know.
Each image now
a closed book revealing
nothing but its cover or,
at best, by luck,
a small, unexpected
glimpse of something more
caught in an expression
or in a look of the far way
reflected in your eyes.
Love always reaches back
to redeem what it can
to restock the treasures
stolen from its stores
by time.
And years hence,
will there be someone
looking at a photograph of us,
deciphering the pose,
seeking out a message
written in our eyes.
Will they see something
hidden in an old photograph
left there by chance, a sliver
of who we were, a little bit
of bone to replenish what
remains of us in their
reliquary of love.
Thank You God
In this day I give praise
That you sent your son.
To provide one a way
Into a being that seeks
Your face and love
Jesus paid the ultimate sacrifice
Once for all to receive forgiveness
To become molded and purified
Into a Child of God
Thank You God
That we can keep these animals around
Because without Jesus there would
Not be many left from what I see
Mankind would be down
to sacrificing mosquitoes
At this point of time
I see in Noah we had to restock
These lovely breeds that cause no harm
For if mankind continues to reject
And seek out their own lust
To satisfy their eyes and heart
These animals will bring comfort
to remember there is
Hope , Love , Peace and joy
In this world we just need to seek
It's available for it's been paid for
Once and once for all
If you care to look in your cupboards,
You might doubt being out of bed,
As all you will see is red.
If you rush to the bathroom cupboards,
For something to keep you out of bed,
You may start to wonder if you are dead,
As all you find there is red,
If you dare to open more cupboards,
You may well end up under the bed,
Where you will find only more red.
When you have opened all your cupboards,
And established you are indeed out of bed,
Proof that you are alive not dead,
But have cupboards full of tape that is red.
Now will you clean out your cupboards,
When you come out from under the bed,
And stop acting like a bureaucrat who only uses tape that is red.
If you care to restock your cupboards,
Instead of going back to bed,
You will no longer think you are dead,
Your family will be well fed,
And you will no longer be seeing red.
Wouldn't it be great to win a small prize,
So I can restock my stationery supplies.
I first write it down,then I type it up
I make lots of mistakes, then I rip it up.
Just when I think I've got it just right,
I knock over my coffee,
It's been one hell of a night.
At last it's all finished,
I've got a pile in the bin
If I don't win a prize,I will pack it all in.
I don't need a lot, just paper and ink,
Oh and a litre of correction fluid I think.
Now I'm going to the post,
I say this with a smirk,
If I can win a little prize
It's got to be easier than work.
If you think this is a begging letter,
Of that there is no doubt
If I could say I've won a prize,
I would have something to shout about!
I knew a prankster, a mean-hearted bloke
Who liked to play wicked practical jokes
He'd empty your locker
And wouldn't restock her
Then try to sell you an expensive cloak
I went to a cheese and wine party on Saturday,
where huge platters of cheese were on display.
There was Gorgonzola and creamy white Brie,
I devoured huge chunks with a glass of Chablis.
Danish Blue, Mozzarella and Swiss Emmental,
of course I had to try a sample of them all!
I declined Edam and Gouda, I find them too waxy -
and the last time I ate them I was sick in the taxi!
Soft creamy Camembert and blue Roquefort,
went down a treat with a glass of vintage port.
Crumbly Cheshire and Cheddar were so divine,
and tasted heavenly with red Beaujolais wine.
I’d chomped through all of the Stinking Bishop,
our hostess had to restock the whole dish up!
Then I munched little cubes of Monterey Jack -
if my doctor saw me he’d have a heart attack!
When our host carried in a blue Stilton in a truckle,
I loosened a notch on my now straining belt buckle!
I admit blue cheese can smell like men's sweaty socks
but ripe Stilton and crackers, this cheese simply rocks!
Write a poem about Cheese Contest
Sponsored by Barry Stebbings
FICTION POEM FOR CONTEST
11/12/18
The Dishwasher’s Loaded
The dishwasher’s loaded,
The plates are all used,
The cups are all dirty and the plates all confused.
My clothes are all ragged,
My shoes scuffed and worn,
I’m in need of no revamp to replace all that’s torn.
The hoover is silent,
The dusters lie crushed,
The paintwork is cleaned and the TV’s been hushed.
My tanks are all empty,
My vehicles SORN’ed,
The MOT’s need update and insurance informed.
My mortgage has run,
My tax is all paid,
My bills have been cleared and ‘For Sale’ signs displayed.
The drawers are all empty,
I was running on fumes,
The past is all gone, each small bit consumed.
You need to reorder,
To restock the shelves,
You need to invest and replenish yourselves.
My race has been run,
My round had been played,
I shot level par and four birdies I made.
No need to cry,
No need to regret,
The world keeps on turning, it does not forget.
©Keith Murphy
Lazy Flossy Squirrel.
Shove up, shove up come on move on
it's very cramped and nothings done.
Summers over and the cold winds blow
I feel it's cold enough for snow.
So shove up move on, or help me please
restock our food inside these trees.
Get them ready with berries and nuts
no if's or why's not even but's.
You'll want a feed before you sleep
so bring your share and bury them deep.
Shove up move on that's what I say
I've been fetching nuts all day.
I've had enough Squirrel Flossy
it's because of you that I am bossy.
Squirrel Flossy I had to shout
If you don't like it then please move out.
I have no time for one so rude
we need to store our home with food.
Cause when the snow falls and it's really cold
you'd wished you'd listened and done as you're told.
But hey ho if I'm bossy Miss Flossy and what do I know
Remember when you're hungry who it was
that warned you so!
Today, my wife is having company
First, there are some tasks which she needs from me:
to sweep the drive and to trim back the tree,
to check trash cans in the house are empty,
vacuum the carpet, restock the pantry,
mop tile floors and scour grout on my knees,
dust under tables and backs of TVs
wash windows in rooms where no one will be,
and clean nooks even a mouse wouldn't see.
Soon, guests arrive prompt at quarter past three.
"So glad you could come, " I say tiredly,
"I'll be asleep if you're looking for me."
8/25/2016
Cupid caught your arrows in mid-air
See he needed to restock
But what's this I see
I think he left one for you and for me
Should I call you by your name
or may I address you more affectionately
There comes a time in one’s life
That you have to take stock
Regardless of stress; despite any strife
Love, pleasure, passion and joy
Always be sure it’s the real McCoy
You will need to restock
so many things yet to strive
But with God in your life
and love on your side
take all anguish and suffering in stride
don't let it break you
always move on
for God gave us his one only son
Café Musings
Same seat, corner, window, back to the outside.
Lost in a time warp of whimsy, voices, half thoughts,
overheard chatter. She is tall, stately, impatient.
He is rumpled, unshaven, fumbling for his change.
He is invisible to most, she is obvious to all.
What funnel of diversity directs them through
the door and why? Loud voices wishing not to be heard
bathe in smart phone glow, smiles, scowls, tears, latte.
Shifting their weight they pour the coffee,
attempt to smile, know there is no clock
but look for the time, wipe the counters,
restock the donuts, muffins, and thank yous.
The funnel never seems to empty, the door never
to close, the nameless, shapeless, shadows pass
through the humming drone of discordant sounds.
Same seat, corner, window, back to the outside.
John G. Lawless
Cafe Musings
1/27/2014
I can sing you a lullaby that could comatose an insomniac
Like the landing of a butterfly a rose would welcome this contact
My voice sprinkles her with relaxation the sandman could'nt match
Her eyes twinkle with admiration like birds when their eggs hatch
The soft aroma of vanilla intertwined with jasmine fills the air
A few coronas as a summers night wind blows through her hair
Time seems to stop as if a deity entered the scenario
Those eyelids drop as a cello escapes the stereo
Her pillow overjoyed exhaled feathers that would shame a peacock
A sparrow was deployed from heaven with such a divine restock
A sleeping beauty in a trance only broken by pure intentions
A dream with visions of romance she'll probably never mention.
Sha'ntez Jefferson
10/23/12
The words of the Zulu coconut,
a once coveted souvenir
from an indulgent visit
to festive Mardi Gras.
As our hero speaks
two mice nibble
unobserved
at his
coat.
"Beads
were slung;
doubloons cast.
Grasping tourists
seized the trifling throws.
Floats advanced in the queue
krewes tossed their tokens wildly.
Prize gifts are meant to be given.
So I, Zulu, went from hand to hand."
Meanwhile a mischief of mice emerged
to attack Zulu's varnished coat.
As they quickly devour him,
his paint began its work
within their stomachs
to do the same.
Zulu's last
witnessed
speech:
"Far
better
to restock
the soil of earth.
Better to be spent
as nourishment to some.
Better still to end this life
by sprouting as a seed of hope.
Better than this: "paint may be toxic."
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