Searching the smoking ruins
of Notre-Dame cathedral,
on the Paris Île de la Cité,
one of the finest examples medieval
of French Gothic architecture,
with flying buttresses, rib vault, immense bells,
enormous colourful rose windows
all of which went through hell
during the fearful fire of 2019,
and the No Bell Prize winner was seen to have been
mangled through the proverbial wringer
as, when looking for Quasimodo,
they found a dead ringer.
is that a jackaroo or a jillaroo?
I am annoyed, preferring to be called ringer.
have spent the day with a green one.
decide to escape, take a walk by the sea.
broncoing has worn me out.
1080 irritates me.
I finally revitalize, feeling replenished.
thanks to the glorious sky.
This is my life
he gave it to me
this is my fight
So leave me be
It's time to take
Back the taken
No longer do I feel the need
To let the rage inforged in me
Stand between
Me and destiny
As I piece together
my broken mind
In hopes to find
My friend in time
I come to find
The fault is yours
all this time
It was never mine
Now I know
The evil within
Never again
Well I let you in
And God is my witness
My savior my amen
Not even death
Can save you
My friend
From his wrath
To my revenge
It's your soul
In my hands
In the depths of hell
Round two begins
“You can ring my bell, ring my bell, you can ring my bell” Anita Ward
He
rings my
bell so well that
he is like an artist
at his craft because he pushes
all my buttons, but in a way sublime.
Oh, how he makes me tingle from
head to
toe.
June 29, 2021
for John Anderson's Ring My Bell Poetry Contest
Someone has told me that I need single-spacing,
but I thought this WAS single spacing. I hope I am
right about this!!
Washing clothes
a long days job as the new wash machine mom had was too good to be used
a Maytag ringer in the basement was the clue
Hot water fills the larger washer as it went round and round
pulling out the clothes, piece by piece
gentle and carefully into the ringer
as it sqeezed the water out
into a new tub of hot water, up and down splashing about
then into the third tub
finally through the ringer again
almost dry
to the lines outside under a hot summer sky
Buxom blonde, eyelashes long
Cabaret singer
Belting out a bawdy song
She’s a dead ringer
Pure sex too
For 50’s lounge singer
Sensual boobs, wig so thick
My most calm boy
Made up in drag, an easy trick
Full of easy joy,
So whoop-dee-doo
And ships ahoy!
Surprising he,
Someone says “you look rather whorish”,
Delighting me
I hate to be peevish or boorish,
But this is drag life in a flourish….
Written: 4-27-2019
Contest: Quirky Tercets
Type: Terza Rima
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Wonder if Trump ever read Mein Heir before.
She sure had been a hum dinger,
So we named her Caren Krutsinger
Have no fear;
A darling dear;
Destroyed my poem through a ringer.
My Horn's are originally from Rothenburg
ob der Tauber.
Fairly
Squarely
Rarely
Barely
Shot from the hip fairly, squarely true
Loaded clip but, rarely, barely drew
1-19-2018
What if age was determined
By the amount of life experiences you had
Would you be an old timer, seasoned
Or a young naïve lad?
Would you change the way you lived
Or would you be satisfied?
Would changes to your life be massive,
Or would you seek a priest to confide?
I wonder why we don't live more
Not knowing when the curtain falls
Instead we tread on egg-shell floors
As if we plan when the bell tolls..
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