Details |
Free verse
|
If this old guy gets to Heaven one of these days
He'll surely be watching you peeps
So be advised youse better behave
My guys will be on standby ready to straighten you out
And you surely wouldn't want that
They are called angels but don't let the name fool you
They can really be quite scary
Betcha you had no idea
You thought all angels were angelic like
These guys were once 'angels' for Al Capone
|
Details |
Free verse
|
quietly spring lies dormant under snow
tuning its quiescent kaleidoscope
hatching dancing dreams of vivid color
asleep underneath winter's white duvet
mute on standby eager for the signal
sun tickles drowsy lazy skeletons
awakens all organic systems go
bright first day of spring emerges
Submitted on February 15, 2019 for contest MARCH POEMS -OLD OR NEW FOR PRIZES PART 3 OF EASTER SERIES sponsored by CAROLYN DEVONSHIRE - RANKED 2ND
|
Details |
Rhyme
|
If this old guy gets to Heaven one of these days
He'll surely be watching you peeps
So be advised you guys better behave yourselves
My guys will be on standby ready to straighten you out
And you surely wouldn't want that
They are called angels but don't let the name fool you
They can really be quite scary
Betcha you had no idea
You thought all angels were angelic like
These guys were once 'angels' for Al Capone
So you have now been forewarned
|
Details |
Free verse
|
If this old guy gets to heaven one of these days
He'll surely be watching you peeps
So be advised you guys better behave yourselves
My guys will be on standby ready to straighten you out
And you surely wouldn't want that
They are called angels but don't let the name fool you
They can really be quite scary
Betcha you had no idea
You thought all angels were angelic like
These guys were once 'angels' for Al Capone
So you have been forewarned
|
Details |
Free verse
|
If this old guy gets to Heaven one of these days
He'll surely be watching you peeps
So be advised you guys better behave yourselves
My guys will be on standby ready to straighten you out
And you surely wouldn't want that
They are called angels but don't let the name fool you
They can really be quite scary
Betcha you had no idea
You thought all angels were angelic like
These guys were once 'angels' for Al Capone
So you have been forewarned
|
Details |
Narrative
|
If this old guy gets to Heaven one of these days
He'll surely be watching you peeps
So be advised you guys better behave yourselves
My guys will be on standby ready to straighten you out
And you surely wouldn't want that
They are called angels but don't let the name fool you
They can really be quite scary
Betcha you had no idea
You thought all angels were angelic like
These guys were once 'angels' for Al Capone
So you have been forewarned
© Jack Ellison 2014
|
Details |
Sonnet
|
The trees have pumpkin-pied themselves
they're dipped in orange butterscotch.
The squirrel's nests of pick-up sticks
hide acorns stores which plink-plop.
Below the apple trees bowed branches
mother harvests windfalls for pies.
Father takes a old buck down
for mincemeat pie, bye and bye.
The corn field's full of children small
gathering ears for Dutch Corn pie.
A cider smell of cinnamon
reminds of crispy crusts on standby.
Mother's at her best this season
and all those pies-- why its the reason!
|
Details |
Free verse
|
Extra
Extra
Read all about…
Wait
Why do we know
Everything that can be known
About the life and times
Of every passersby
In the media
Standby
Yet
Still don’t know
Who rocks the vote
Until we are too old
To reap the benefits
Of the cash stash
That was slashed
Back when we were
Twenteen
And when did it become
Priority
To know every word
To every pop song
That breaks through
The speakers of society’s stereo
Yet we can’t recite
The words
Words
Words
That have shaped
A world unknown
To the passerby
Of everyday life
Now here comes
The latest news
Standby…
|
Details |
Free verse
|
On a rickety desk,my book is.
The incy wincy spider spreads its webs,
On my four-legged chair too.
With dust covered,for lack of use.
I'll be writing a test in days to come.
I'll get back to my book,
To remind me of things of old,
New knowledge to be refreshed.
My brightly lit lamp is on standby,
The silvery crescent of the moon
adds its own flavour.
I'll tell Funke and Obi today isn't for play.
Musa can crack his jokes all by himself.
Page by page,I flip through,
My eyes fully gazed at it,broadly spread.
Scanning each word with deep sense of thoughts,
Skimming in between lines.
With this,I'm sure to excel.
|
Details |
Free verse
|
More times around she told me directly as I pushed the merry go round clockwise
Her little right arm and hand stretched out as if to catch the wind itself, both her
little feet planted firmly on the worn sandy wooden platform
I counted, watching her hold on with only her small left hand, fingers squeezing
tightly
The playground amusement slowed to a halt, her face spoke of utter
disappointment
Five
Do over, she said
Grabbing the handle tight with my strong thick fingers, I looked into her eyes and
nodded
Neither speaking but knowing a better result was not only expected but necessary
I started to run, fast, faster than last time as her little hand gripped the pole tightly
With a giant thrust I sent the merry go round spinning real fast this time
Her long curly hair was blown back as the old playground standby spun; once,
twice quickly
An excited high pitched squeal emanated from it as; three, four, five turns went
speeding by
I stood and watched as it slowed her eyes wide and filled with excitement.
Six, still turning as it slowed
You did it, you did it, she shouted, jumping up and down, clapping her hands
She jumped off and into my arms and said
Seven
Do over
|
Details |
Shape
|
Written: October 22, 2023 For Brian Stand Contest
_____________________________________________
Lonesome
gorgeous tree
almost standing straight
I discovered the splendor there
decorative branches is wonderful
can the candied sticks be in a pristine state?
seems as if an old sled had demise standby
there is a slouched spiritual book on the table
a little light-weary
tie a vivid crimson bow
yet, loops let you feel loopy
the angels' wing plumes fluttered
the beard on saint was blown haywire
teddy bear lays on his side after chasing pooh
a blue drum, afar of perch, flips in on its thin legs
the rocking horse doesn't rock just crouches in place
the lighthouse appears
extremely out of the setting
the moon tipped over on its side
an inside-the-tree-flying reindeer as well
It seems the pinecones are around to oust
saffron beads block the light from an elfin lamp
jack-in-the-box is positioned parallel to the facade
the nutcracker prince maintains there is a problem
the gingerbread man is gaunt in his standing position
the snowman lacks zest and lacks any sort of charisma
utterly, the reindeer fails to eventuate and to be in charge
gorgeous, isolated tree
Inching its way toward decay
bringing flawed beauty into the home
and a profound gratitude for everything I have
|
Details |
Free verse
|
Between these words and this paper lie my feelings
They hold the connection together, no piercings
So abstract I just want to get lost in them
I think I have found a reason not to analyse them
They are multiplying inside, creating families within me
They all have the same vision; to one day make their way out of me
Their seeds are planted in me as a contigency plan to ensure constant
reproduction
They remain on standby for her name to be called
Her beauty speaks a language only understood by them, no subtitles
I speak on their behalf, no rank given to me, basically no titles
To their distinguished calculations i'm not fighting back
I lay words on this paper that gives it life, can't read them from the back
I say, write and do whatever is asked of me and in some twisted way I
approve of it
The new and the old feelings have combined forces, breaking through
sometimes hearing myself saying.........
"Her lips give authorisation for my imagination to work overtiime
Her beauty is painted all over my art gallery for the world to see
Once I have a look at those eyes I can never seem to find my way back to me
Her exquisite taste in everything got me wishing it could rub off on me
Yes, though i'm crazy about her, i'm not nuts
She deserves a yearly supply of cashew nuts
Although she prefers everything sour, I think she's absolutely sweet
Shhhhhhhh, an underground comedian, absolutely hilarious
Her laugh is amazing, her scientifically proven way of displaying excitement"
I need a special task team to keep these feelings under control
A negotiator to evaluate the terms and conditions keeping it under control
But then again where would I be without these feelings.
|
Details |
Rhyme
|
A Call From A Son
When you called today
I sensed in your voice “sweet smiles”.
I heard a slight hint of laughter
Sent out to me, all of those miles.
You were driving on your way home
After working so hard, a long day.
It was so very thoughtful
For you to remember me that way.
I hoped you drove with care
Not distracted by something I’d said
Distracted is worse than drunk driving
Or so in the paper I’d read.
I laughingly said: “Hang up when you must”
I’ll finish telling this story to myself
Then I closed up my trusted flip phone
Placed it gently on its charging shelf
You asked what I’d been doing
The choices you know are few
This time of day, we think about food
With home cooked meals of stew.
I think often of my old truck
I so often wonder where it’s been.
For the charges on my Visa
Show it has been “filled” again.
I look for it out in my stall
But it’s seldom there in its spot
I’ve thought of calling the cops
Reporting my vehicles “hot”.
The family seems to enjoy
Sharing my truck with a friend.
Their neighbors and co-workers
Are also a part of the blend.
It seems having a truck in standby
Is as handy as the local U-Haul
But mine doesn’t charge by the mile
Really there are no charges at all.
You asked if I’d seen any movies
They are listed each month in the news
The popcorn is good and the show is free.
But it’s no fun your “third” view.
I mentioned about exercising
They have all the latest in gear
But sometimes my heart gets to racing
Struggle back to my room with great fear.
Since my memory is shrinking
I can’t now leave the grounds
I try to go for short, lazy walks
Where canes and walkers abound
I’ve tried making friends over cookies
They serve them each day about two.
You remembered the nice coffee shop
They cleverly call it: “The Brew”.
But making friends here
Is like buying a fuzzy pet.
You may eventually outlast it
Then you’d stew and fret
For it’s a bit troubling
As you walk the long halls.
All the generous donors
Have pictures on the walls.
Each has lived there sometime
But no longer do they linger
For the dark cloud of death
Oft points its “ugly” finger.
But I linger ever longer
Still waiting by the phone
For that very next time
Driving on your way home
You may think of me again
Still sitting here alone
I hope you take a minute
To dial your dads old phone.
Written by oldbuck Feb 12, 2017 as he thought about all the wonderful folks he’s met at the Sr. Center, while visiting friends and the “extra” time so many spend alone.
|