Rubberneckin’ Double D’s
Some men seem to live for these
Pack a rack and watch the eyes
Summing up a super size
Curvy cutie’s leggy lank
Shoring up a well built tank
Catches glances everywhere
Take a seat and watch them stare
Rubberneckin’ Double D’s
Such a gift that aims to please
Silly boys, now don’t you know
One is more than what’s on show
Fast asleep in a reclining chair, woke from slumber, by crashing thunder
Suddenly the lights go out and the TV flickers in and out
Darkness comes about, silence of the TV seems to just shout
Dazed and confused, looking for a source of light to use
Stumbling all about stubbing my toe, ouch!
Whipping winds and heavy rain broke out a window pain
Wind and rain come gusting threw
Blowing over a lamp that can't be used
Frighten dog and a scaredy cat whimper and cried
All the while looking for a place to hide
Shoring up the window blocking out wind and rain
Out of hiding comes the cat and Great Dane
Freezing weather out of doors, inside the fireplace roars
Cuddled up with my cat and Great Dane, here I'll stay until
the storm is contained
Little jewels of inspiration are strewn all around us if we look for them. By Poet
I won't fade before sunrise.
may sprouts of affection sigh
I will never close my eyes,
from the turtle dove's tears dry.
Strewn on the sandy beach floor
I'm willing to face what strike
needless for the shoring boor,
although they are still in spike.
I aim to face the sun's rays,
may the blooms be dwell and well?
I'm not running from my ways,
from tears of concealed jewel.
I'll be set free when dawn blew,
let us swing near to our hopes.
No more harm inside of you!
Such awe would deploy pearl ropes.
A gem is not quite a stone,
unless it glows from the core.
A soul can apply some shone,
on auld rocks and call them ore.
5TH PLACE CONTEST WINNER
Checked by HMS.COM
Written: March 18, 2022
Form J - Just Write Me a New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Recycled Breath from fear
Lipstick becomes art on cloth
Life now begins with a test
The rainbow has become dark
Police are now attacked
Burning buildings left in ashes
Normal has disappeared
Life is now on televisual news
Holding us captive by lies
Free money sent in vain
Shoring politics fills the air
Unemployment zooms
No room for the poor
Tragedy and death from the insane
Each day I awake to the same
When Will It End?
Let dead rocks of reason lie on the way,
Let all logic, all do's and don'ts lie still,
The rules of grammar gathered yesterday,
Of metre and foot, let them let-down feel
If lines river-like flow to move ahead,
Let melody get born with utter poise,
Let lilting lines listen to inner voice,
O to flow ahead—heart-over-head led.
In purest form and the plainest by far,
Like a perennial stream flows a poem,
Each line a starlet shoring up the star,
And sparkling like rarest of studded gem!
And crafted, caressing the created—
A call of heart passing baton to head!
_____________________________________________ _________
A poem flows like a river. The head with its do's and don'ts plays the role of rocks blocking river's flow. But the river finds its way still and music is born. A poem is always a product of heart to start with. The heart has reasons unknown to head. A stage still comes when head slowly takes over as there is no escape from it. Yet, creativity comes from the chaos created by heart— the source of all poems!
08.03.2020
Heart Truth
Contest Judged: 8/9/2020
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Winner: FIRST PLACE
There once was a man
named Trump; his
country needing a
royal bump; so, as age can
refine, like vintage and wine –
(seeing liberties decline)
thought to take-on
the thankless task
of pulling a nation
from a Donkey's Dump –
After winning public office –
while taking note of peer-heads
comfortable in the rear
'neath the Donkey’s fowl orifice –
with many spineless others bailing
while our Precious Republic,
if not failing, definitely ailing! –
a chunk of freedom hitting him
on the head
Despite a slight flutter, and perhaps
a small stutter, he began the perilous
task of restoring – beloved lady in his
harbor needing shoring – as a matador
fearless of goring he led
rolling aside
stepping over
the prostrate bodies
of cowards….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRj9jUpKhRI
Gliding down the river of dreams we take to the ore
watching the last of the sunlight descend o'er the lake
Peaceful wings soar above our heads and we smile
as we shimmy through the waves with an easy sway
gliding down the river of hope alongside the drake
Striding the waters slow as can be we keep pace
with the swans as they slip through the stream
like white winged angels and velvet black swans
portenting the change through a sky made of lace
we are the gliders, wandering for loves own sake
Grappling with life, plucking our courage we slip
into the meld of the water, we amalgamate
shoring our Faith upstream we navigate
as we shimmy through the waves with easy sway
gliding down the river of hope, alongside the drake
we journey....5/10/2020
Grave Site
By the grave I saw the rest
There was no life left
Dead in the flesh no pulse left
God took back His breath
Ah, distinctly I was entombing
It threw its ghost against the remnants
The explosive earth ending
Instilled and stilled no life left
Crave I the smelly, sepulchral shoring
Alas, tho! how is it that I may smell the stank
For I am dead you know nothing left smells rank
Grave site - tormentor of my dreams
Just what does it mean?
Deep into that darkness lying
Deep into that darkness crying
Take thy landfill from out my heart
I felt compelled to sniff the cremains
I awoke and flung the spill
What about dead remains
I heard a happy, filling burrowing
Much I marveled the bad hearse
Next to me a fresh bod clawing
Dead is the also the night nurse
4/15/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
hearts confession
soul set free from
bondage
flying free
shoring above
unmeant desires
of the spirit of love
that had been stifled
trapped underneath
the regrets of the past
that were left unmended
till now
The gilded flower grows astride the spring,
sweet with rain from the demise of the ice.
For every inch that hope grows, greed grows twice.
Intoxicated by the thrill, they sing,
And pay without thought for their wedding ring.
Such opportunity seen, as cold melts.
Ambitions reborn and lines spelt,
to put claims for oneself over everything.
My bones still ache from winter's cold embrace,
And I see her coming afar through time.
I know that future times will chill my face,
and see wisdom in shoring up the brace.
What luck that no men wish to save a dime!
So now I sell, tomorrow, win the race.
Written for "Petrarchan Sonnet" contest, sponsored by Craig Cornish
Limericks dé-crochetés: Is not shame self-humiliation
Is not shame self-humiliation
To be thought of with condescension
All men know some disgrace
Except those without grace
Dignity’s the art of pretension
The man who fears not leaving this world
E’en without heir his name can fame mould
Knows no shame brought by birth
All’s forgiven in mirth
Though what lies ahead mayn’t rightly be told
Memory’s a wild accusing thing
It best serves those who here nothing bring
Nothing take on way out
Nothing leave to shout ‘bout
What one forgets might well be no-thing
Think of all the pain one puts up with
Just for the sake of the ego myth
To be thought of well - swell
Hail fellow well met - hell !
Who e’er lived to de-mystify death
Shame’s the pain we face in hour of need
Stand alone you’ll likely go to seed
Join the crowd to feel proud
The name well-clothed in shroud
All the shame humiliation must feed
End of day finds us shoring up shame
Orchestrated scenes of death-bed fame
Funerals in black staid
Write-ups by friends well-paid
All to keep shame hidden in the name
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Trump Started Shoring
Up his buildings Trump started shoring
So when he was asleep and loudly snoring
Walls would not fall in and collapse
And not only that become death traps
Next to them boats people are mooring.
Jim Horn
Republicans Up for Reelection
Will they wheedle out
Always try to twist and shout
Leave us with much doubt.
Familiar does sound
Republicans all around
Where will they be bound?
We could all care less
Someone will straighten out mess
And can remove stress.
Up started shoring
Think it will be with Warren
Now are adoring.
There hast to be a few chuckles
left out there somewhere.
Jim Horn
It was never meant to last.
You warned me that you'd trip. A relationship,
like a house, cannot stand when built on a foundation of sand.
Ours was sinking fast.
I didn't mind the continual shoring
but you didn't lift a finger. You linger,
in your past mistakes while the ground around us quakes.
Our ship broke loose from the mooring.
Crumbled around us, it all fell.
Torn apart, so I walked away on that devastating day.
What good are regrets? If I were making bets
I'd wager the past is where you still dwell.
Twenty-five ©
25 seconds: the time it
takes to fall in love….
25 minutes: into rehearsal
we have our first kiss….
25 hours: I am dreaming of
you….
25 days: I know it is just the
beginning….
25 weeks: we are having
“make up” sex….
25 months: stranded in
Tucson, I’m sling’in hash
and you.re ropin’ steers….
25 years: Best friends, still in
love, comfortable in our
own skins, at ease and
amused by each other’s
quirks.…
….shoring up each other’s
desires, choices, and
judgments, good or bad….
sustaining each other no
matter what…
loving each other no
matter why!
from book of poetry 'Butterflies and Bullets' available on Amazon
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