Short Customs Poems

Evening meal
a thought tonight
a cuckoo's custom....

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Plane has landed
Interrogated by customs for hours
Back on the plane again








*My first bash at this...

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Customs man Henri Rousseau
part-time gave painting a go
Great detail was his particular thing
with child-like eyes he did bring...

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Herman Melville once a cabin boy
his fiction/poetry gives such.joy
As a customs mn he spent his time
writing materpieces in rhyme...

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change
looking
good today,
ideas  come-
then
go
manners
and customs
fashioned in new
clothes
soon
grow old-
as human
nature changeless
stays...

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Today is an American folk event 
Unraveled by traditions and etiquette 
Vixens ask men on a date
Women hoping to find a mate
Sadie Hawkins Day we celebrate...

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Outer space is such an intriguing topic
Other civilizations exist, it's common logic
May not resemble us
Different customs and such
Like making love in the office, quite erotic...

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Outer space is such an intriguing topic
There are aliens out there, it's common logic
May not look like us
Different customs and stuff
Make love while dining, that's quite erotic...

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Outer space is such an intriguing topic
Other civilizations exist, it's common logic
May not resemble us
Different customs and such
Like making love in a spaceship, WOW quite exotic...

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The world is strange with it's customs and laws
They're meant to be bent when we eat at the trough
Within reason I mean
Not too extreme
Not overboard stuff like molesting young squaws...

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My childhood smells of the
Mellow fruit hung on trees
Mother mixed spices for
Mango pickles.Today
Mason jars she packs for
Me to take. Hurts to say-
Ma! Customs won't allow

Written on:04/19/2017...

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What has life in store?
Milk on bed and milk when dead.
Why sulk all along?




P.S.This poem is based on the Hindu customs of burial. Attending a funeral recently taught me this very essence of Life....

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Mom gave me it.
A last moment thing,
as if I gave a flit
about silly customs.
Yet, for my daughter
it's preserved... Shit!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nancy Jones
POEM OF COMPRESSION
9/23/13...

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B-eautiful City at high 
A-ltitude 
G-raced with 
U-nique customs and traditions and gallant 
I-ndigenous people and culture that 
O-ffers an atmosphere of curiosity and attraction to tourists.

September 13, 2022...

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B-eautiful scenery 
E-ndowed with precious 
N-atural resources like 
G-old, silver and copper, with
U-nique customs and traditions, graced by 
E-xquisite maiden beauties and cool 
T-emperature that attracts global tourists. 

September 12, 2022...

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Tied to customs
never straying
affraid to differ
stay on the path
forget your beliefs
or be prosecuted
beliefs too different;
you are weird
beliefs too similar;
you are a poser
life is hopeless
filled with chiildren
not litterally and yet mentaly...

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A Potluck of People can be hard to Digest or assimilate

 Different customs Different taste

 Only One dish can truly Satisfy the human race
                                                    
 A Serving of Joy  placed on the table by Love  on Christmas Day...

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“Hey man are you a terrorist?
Please let me scan you,
Oh yes take your shoes off
Oops” I looked at your breasts
“That’s ok I’ll be checking
This one for bombs.”
They can’t be real
Can they?
Well they were.
“This one’s safe.”
I tell the others
Not even a hint of a grin...

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A tear is a tear
A smile is a smile
No matter where you be

Though many languages
And many customs exist
They are understood universally

Just basic emotions
Of sorrow and joy
The whole world can see

A tear is a tear
A smile is a smile
No matter where on earth you be...

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“No nation can rise to the height of glory unless your women are side by side with you.We are victims of evil customs.It is a crime against humanity that our women are shut within the four walls of the houses as prisoners.There is no sanction anywhere for the deplorable condition in which our women have to live.”...

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a moonlit stroll - -
ladies in underwear
wave from windows

tea in a  café  - -
the smell of coffee and
marijuana 

tourists yawn - -
customs men search a coach 
from Amsterdam

written 21st April for Elly’s contest

wish I'd been permitted to write about the beautiful tulips, windmills and cheese, LOL...

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A naked thought 
Wakes me up-

I got into the 
Dressed world-

Systems,
Customs, 
Formalities,
Procedures –

All held me  
I too embraced them

Suddenly 
I found
That I am missing-

I myself 
Do not know 
Where I am?
Who I am?
Why I am?

I am 
Down with my self-

I wait for 
A nude thought...

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With flowing robes,
pungent herbs,
arching doors,
organic walls, 
and eerie lights,
you take on trappings
of one thought evil.
Yet in you beats
an open heart—
one always skirting
curdled customs,
sterile allegiances,
trivial tyrannies—
one ever seeking
reunions with roots,
transforming spaces,
raw possibilities....

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Tissue,pigmented,black,brown or white,
Everyone equal in the creator's sight;
Whatever shaded membrane skin,
Just a covering,layered thin.
Purely an accident of birth,
Never a value of our worth;
Customs and culture the true divide,
Ignorance its willing guide.
Repercussion and backlash,we reap
When our thinking,stays skin deep....

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Varied hues of skin
A spectrum of shapes
Superficial beauteous forms
Cultures diversely similar
Divergent faiths bound by belief
Tribes tied to global nations
Ancestrally inherited customs
Trades, professions sundry 
Outer multitudinous variations
Inner indisputable DNA equality
Similarities in differences:
One rock – home to All....

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