The gambling apps are scary,
Though they don’t tempt me a bit,
For the ones who should be wary
Are the ones who’ll take a hit.
Just like every addiction,
There’s an obvious appeal,
But a gambling affliction
Is the worst kind of raw deal.
Those who really can’t afford it
Are lured in because the odds
Bring them one step closer toward it,
Feeling up there with the gods.
What once worked for only races –
Horses, greyhounds, cars that drag,
Now is found in many places,
Waiting for some saps to snag.
Who will score more in a ball game?
Who’ll be leading in the polls?
What will be the Royal babe’s name?
Who will land the leading roles?
Though it’s bad enough when older
Folks are drawn to such a con,
Younger people, sometimes bolder,
May find all their dreams are gone.
A Leaf in the Woods 8-6-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Leaf in the Woods
From high above the quiet forest floor
I see the memoirs of the summers passed
Frost eaten veins reveal forevermore
The remnants of a supple life’s repast.
The leaves of maples, umber oak and birch,
Here blend into a testament of life
Prophets gone, tell of once gloried church,
Their voices speak of icy winter’s strife.
Yet I still drink the saps of summer dreams
When galaxies spin through each solstice night
Their symphonies lament the lost moonbeams
Remembering their souls through forest light.
And, when for me this summer passes by
I pray my life to grace will testify.
Delighting our Black Caps chaps
Uniting fans fighting nite nite naps
Gaslighting Indian foes mishaps
Rewriting those cricketing maps
As the Black caps hit their straps
Darryl the toast the host soul saps
Gunbarrel straight out of the traps
They unravel yet another six slaps
Our great festive carol never flaps
A late Christmas pressie unwraps
Flicks & tricks spate picks the gaps
Indian spinners fate sinners lapse
Black caps chaps claps & back slaps
Kiwi yippee we see diddy GP scraps
Even that fat cat Virat finally snaps
Zen of Darryl and Glen victory laps
After white-wash a chance perhaps?
Hitch both Ajaz & Mitch under wraps
No Will or Matt but still Indians zaps
The plush crushed can’t turn off taps
Out gunned out spun another collapse
Lush waves rush flush with Black caps
Brought low, to crush pride.
With it, the Devil.
O'er that entombed who now stands
A befuddled fool!
"Light! A living form
Therein! Saps my will.
Victor over death! What for
Myself did once rule!"
September stalks, tugging on each footstep's shadow.
It saps the warmth of summer's lingering face on show.
Withering leaves spiral down in a sashay chase, falling one by one.
In a solemn cortege winding beneath a flailing sun.
To summer passing, clutched like old friends you want to keep.
As sweet memories and tokens to warm impending winter's sleep.
Beaming sculpture whittled by awning clouds over blue sea
Ethereal beauty tinged in brown, green and yellow shea
Aerial bliss, flaunting on leaves-sunkissed
Under and over my wings, I breathe your scented mist
Talons I sprawl, your branches I grip
Yonder sanctuary, your soothing shield I trip
Amongst beauties of nature, your heights majestic
Narwhals of blue seas, unicorns of Atlantic
Dying depths of roots underlying masses so cryptic
Marshes of hidden paradise, your abode of beauty
Attached is madness of ethnic humanity
Desecrating pristine ages of dreamt forest
Nesting on mantels, burning unrest
Eaves of succulent leaves, carved barks and branches
Streaming on saps and man's cold blood
Sweet and sour blend of beauty and madness
In conversation
the sounds
of her thinking astounds
logic rebounds
argument confounds
rationale knows not bounds
there's no reasoning
with what she expounds
or justification
in that which she propounds
when all facts fail
and reality surrounds
her point of view
tho' it has zero grounds
piled on in mounds
with absurdity she compounds
adding injury to insult
my brain it impounds
traps me wraps me saps my energy
inducing mental lethargy causing total apathy
‘Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?’
(Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2)
Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Juliet, it is so cold when we perform this sweet tableau
so, twixt my legs, just a tiny icicle does grow.
Is it she you call sweet Rose that saps the strength from my sweet beaux?
That you wilt leave me so unsatisfied and not your gift bestow?
Thus, each night, you have such words which you dost nag and crow
and with them, it is that makes my manhood fail to show.
I Once gazed my wond’ring eyes upon your bulging codpiece so
Yet now, not so, again I ask; Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Oh my sweet Juliet, I am indeed in deepest woe;
this night, Friar Laurence, with my blue potion failed to show.
A virus takes your energy
And everything it saps
Results in lack of everything
Except, of course, for naps.
Water, source of life
overflows through all the pores
blood, sweat, tears...our saps
Sun seeking sunflowers' stalks stand stylishly sleek
Bite birds, butterflies on beat before blazing blooms
Farm fields fire-up framing fascinating flourish
Gushing green grass giggle with girlish gaiety
Still soil sings soulful song to silent seeping saps
Reaper respectfully rallies with rapt rapture.
I slept and then October with stealth crept in.
I knew it when a breeze blew in. Crisp and clean,
it softly breathed and wreathed the trees and kissed my skin.
Hues of passion now show fall fashion for its trees.
Birds loudly call. When winds blow hard, leaves of fall careen.
Coolness drops by some degrees. Please let there be no early freeze.
Spiced pies have enticed me. Pumpkins look like silly saps.
On porches, their eyes- bright by night- welcome Halloween.
October then takes its leave – with a heave of wind perhaps.
Whereas and wherefore hence and hereafter
An idle balloon sits high in the rafters
It’s hard to decide which one is dafter
The one who just bought it or the “arts” crafter
the media just primps and prunes
while she stumbles in the ruins
rejoicing in the things she brings
while dancing on those puppet strings
he sees a future glowing bright
says he’s the one to make it right
that he will wage an endless fight
if the handcuffs aren’t too tight
The rainbow, seems it’s met its due
All they see is red and blue
Run their mouths, fuel their planes
Call each other nasty names
And we, poor saps, will cast our votes
Based on their nasty, feral quotes
In hopes whoever gets the nod
Will not bring back the firing squad
Life is convoluted
Coming across happiness and sorrow
Love and betrayal
Hunger and riches
Steering through the opposites
Consistency with the confrontations
Saps the solace
Tired and broken, no longer thoughtful
One counters the events
The wise ones see similarity in all
Allow the things to happen
Spontaneity breeds many paths
One continues to walk, brightness unfolds
Calm waters greet, spring returns
Past is past, oblivion overwhelms
Smiles, zest and thrill embrace
Bad is gone, good overtakes
Life is a game, reconciliation is the key
Born on the tough side of hollow earth
Raised in blood, bone, sweat, tears and dirt
Toiled through the grace of emptiness
Taught in the cradle of nothingness
Braved the tides of looming fountains
Dared the storms to climb his mountains
Through ups, downs and rough plains, he grew
For the sweet saps of his will to brew
Short story or not poetry contest
5th place
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