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
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
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
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
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!
Trisha Sugarek
Butterflies and Bullets
In the puddles of our loving, tender life
There goes a dynamic of going along
Path exciting but some tears are made from strife
Which creates shallow puddles within the throng
Outside looking in, the heart beats of great love
Shoring up a delight, just like a white dove
Reflections of love lies within the puddle
This water is clear and sure doesn’t muddle
Entrant into Gail Angel Doyle's " Reflections of Love" contest
3/1/2013
~ Though reeling ~
~ amid the hour ~
~ of my dolor, I ~
~ still could not ~
~ concur with ~
~ those who ~
~ say "Passion ~
~~ is all together ~~
~ fruitless", because ~
~ mindful of this I know ~
~~~ the acrimonious of ~~~
~~ heartalways become the ~~
~ marionette of their abhorrence, ~
and incertitude, as do the passionate
in their yielding to this certain way of
blamelessness and overt position of
~~~~~~~~ promise. ~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I say if it were not for Grace
time would furthermore offend,
but for sheer delight the days
each one run on to the next
while illustrious visions of
the divine they fill each
moment, when I begin
to look for the lowly
reflection of loves
tender purveyance.
Furthering my resolve ...
and shoring up moreover this
truth, advancing he conscious
desire of Gods encouragement
for me, existent in the way of
this ever wholesome movement
and time of my transcendence
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ As its validity moves me in my ~
weary soul deeper and deeper ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ within. ~~~~~~~~~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8CzFVm1Yio
~ and though reeling ~
~ amid the hour ~
~ of my dolor, I ~
~ still could not ~
~ concur with ~
~ those who ~
~ say "Passion ~
~~ is all together ~~
~ fruitless", because ~
~ mindful of this I know ~
~~~~ the acrimonious of ~~~~
~~~ heart always become the ~~~
~~ marionette of their abhorrence, ~~
and incertitude, as do the passionate
in their yielding to this certain way of
blamelessness and overt position of
~~~~~~~~~~ promise. ~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I say if it were not for Grace
time would furthermore offend,
but for sheer delight the days
each one run on to the next
while illustrious visions of
the divine they fill each
moment, when I begin
to look for the lowly
reflection of loves
tender purveyance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Furthering my resolve ...
and shoring up moreover this
truth, advancing the conscious
desire of Gods encouragement
for me, existent in the way of
this ever wholesome movement
and time of my transcendence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As its validity moves me in my
weary soul deeper and deeper ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~ within. ~~~~~~~~~~~~