Short Ninety Seven Poems

There is this guy of 'Poetry Soup' Fame
Ran a contest with 'I just can't win' Name
Because he will not count past three
Ninety seven losers there will be
Guess i will just have to be 'Fair Game'!

© Harry J Horsman  2012...

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Dove off the ledge
unplugged from the socket
that pumped the bloody blood
too stunned when she got it

Ninety-seven stories off
the ledge of her choosing
past planets and satellites
free falling 
and cruising

Dead zone promised
quietude with silk grass
ground zero approaching
        too late recognized
– the bent hand of the past...

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Who wants to go to Mars?

Be forewarned, the round trip is three years

now I'll ask again... who wants to go to Mars?

if you've got an urgent surgery approaching

like a heart transplant or leg replacement

perhaps a postponement would be wise

however, if you're ninety-seven

you'll surely want to get back for some cake

okay I'm being silly again... must apologize

how about Jamaica or Rangjung?...

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I was an ecdysiast, grandma said with delight
Her grandson could not fathom this, try as he might
His ninety-seven-year-old grandma on a stripper pole?
That was before they had them, she said to young Cole.
He could not picture her as a nude-like teaasing dancer.
My striptease name was young Bambi Bubble Prancer.
It took a long time to get this out of his sixteen-year-old head.
Last thought he had for months every time he went to bed....

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I once had a wish 
But now it's long gone 
I realize now 
That I'd rather move on 
In my life, 
I would try to endeavor 
Things I can do 
To live life forever 
As the years passed by, 
And now that I'm old 
I oft wonder 
'Bout some things I've been told 
Twas told we die 
And go up to heaven 
Well, guess I'll know soon, 
I'm ninety-seven 
I've outlived so many...
Family and friends 
Now what I wish for 
Is that my life ends...

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No more tears for that which has departed
No endings for that which has not started
The knife is in the skin, yet no bleeding
Why shed tears? When tears we are not needing
Drinking her bath water tasting so pure
Using your vice, as her bait and her lure
Drugs not taken, is the rapture of death
In evry tear, evry laugh, evry breath
No passions to give, no feeling to show
Bottled up emotions, never let go
A pound of flesh for a trip to heaven 
No more tears, since nineteen ninety seven...

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