When friends suggested, “Try cocaine!”
Mike’s “No” would reckon choice.
His mom ignored his new campaign;
rebuff became Mike’s voice.
Having seen his mom at crack's expense,
Mike felt all alone and under duress,
stranger to the world of common sense;
he started drinking to excess.
Long gone, his dad had been a souse
and likely binges somewhere yet.
Young Mike had cursed this selfish louse
through years of mixed regret.
In time, mom met her bitter demise
asleep at the wheel from drug abuse.
Shaken, this event opened Mike's eyes
struggling, he echoed “No!” to booze.
Parental hindrance gone, Mike gained
perception, a faith formerly unknown.
He found pardon, patience, peace unfeigned,
Loss ridden-out, his resolve fully grown.
I
When a spat leaves you blue-faced and chokin'
This advice may keep love's bond unbroken:
Don't go angry to bed,
Listen to what's being said
And not merely to what's being spoken.
II
A man marries then struggles the rest of his life
Trying to keep his home free from all worry and strife.
It won't enter his head
'til long after he's dead,
That he might should have wed a less extravagant wife.
III
A new wife was installed as the queen of her house,
And for a while quite content with no reason to grouse.
T'was a cruel trick of fate
When she found out, too late,
That her mate was a souse and a louse of a spouse.
IV
A husband, fed up with his wife's constant yammer,
Went ballistic and bashed out her brains with a hammer.
At his trial her removal
Won the jury's approval,
And his (suspended) sentence, six months in the slammer.
As a young child
breakfast time was my favorite time of day
Mommy hovered over the flaming stove
as she sizzled a bundle of my favorite meals
tuna, corn beef, sardines , and steamed sausages
served with a side of white grits
dashed with warm butter as gold as a coin
I sat at the table and gobbled down the meal
like a contestant in a pie eating contest!
Fast forward to the present day
as I matured into adulthood
I no longer have the craving desire
for this type of cuisine,
eating grits now gives me
the feeling of indigestion
forcing my stomach to spew it out
like lava from an erupting volcano!
Now I just stick to enjoying
a cup of brewing decaf coffee as hot as the desert
with sprinkles of succulent sugary powder
and a bowl of chicken souse seasoned in high sour lime
and bird peppers as spicy as chili
with light floured coconut Johnny cake!
A Villanelle by Jelsr
Junebug couldn't stop thinking about the hood the house
It was just so slumming and urban
Never had he known anything so robust
That morning, Junebug was shocked by loss
He had to calm himself with a cross
Andy couldn't stop thinking about the house
Later, Taten was spooked by a townhouse
He tried to focus on a herein
Never had he known anything so in-house
Junebug tried to distract him with a penthouse
Said his mind had become too interurban
Taten couldn't stop thinking about the pit-bull eating rotten souse
Hood rats playN dominos
Wild cats in the trash cans crunching Doritos
Come to find out they were both under the influence
Homeless living in a crack-house
2/10/2023
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
His father was an Aristocrat
His mother a high class whore
And he attended Public School
As had his ancestors before,
Achieved a First at Oxbridge,
Sword of Honour at Sandhurst,
Served in Bosnian with UNFOR
Saw genocide at its very worst.
He resigned his commission
Following his service there
Couldn’t cope with the memories
The sense of guilt and despair.
He dosses on the Streets now
A homeless hulk without a name
Disowned by his family and
Just seen as a bringer of shame.
The people on the streets
Try to avoid his eye,
Toss him the odd coin
As they pass him by.
He nods his head in gratitude
But he’s not really there
As he copes with his demons
Behind his thousand yards stare.
All people see is a vagrant,
An alcoholic and a souse.
He’s in Line for the title and
A seat in the Upper House.
Nobody gives a toss about
The many cases like him.
That’s just the modern world
You either sink or swim.
Come and join the forces
Show that you are willing
To go and serve your country
Accept the Old Queen’s Shilling.
Learn to fight and kill
Sell your service on the cheap
And if you crack and break
You’re out on the scrap heap.
Lost, oh must I write of common, autumn leaves?
Or, Mom’s hot, fragrant apple pie?
Of my lovely, cobalt, silky blouse.
Or raindrops sprinkling on my house?
How to pen of that which really means?
Common nothings leave me dry!
Like a lost, pointltless poetess mouse,
Worse, a bland and boring souse?
Am I here to speak my truth or just what it seems?
It makes this poetess,take a frustrated sigh.
Maybe in books, I should just browse?
Or put down my pen, and take a stroll out of the house?
10/27/2021
~5~
Quatrain. a,a,b,b
JELLO
I hate jello because it is a food
once in your mouth it wiggles moves
reminds me of what worms must feel like to eat
grosses me out for the life of me
Who had such a fantasy
to make some squishy protein
From animal parts most disgusting
Food served in hospitals observably
Jellied cranberries a similar food
Would rather have cranberry juice
And souse meat looks like it is raw
It is jellied for bellies after all
Now if jello had a super power
like curing disease or growing flower
I still could not keep it down
Jello is gross even with fruit I’ve found.
Clyde Rolf
Played golf
First nine
Went fine
Next nine
Not fine
He muffs
In roughs
Sand trap
Oh crap
Tough break
In lake
Bad hook
In brook
Blew putts
Some klutz
Hurled putter
In gutter
O'er par
By far
Disgust
He cussed
Clubhouse
To souse
Clyde Clark
In park
Was boozy
Real doozy
Did pee
On tree
Broke law
Cop saw
Tied hands
With bands
To jail
Sans bail
Called spouse
"You souse"
Said she
To he
"Stay there
Don't care"
(Later before the judge)
"Where ere you be let your water flow free", was Clyde's creative defense.
Ha! Ha! grinned the judge! "Thirty days in the slammer for this offense!"
Randolph
Tried golf
Paid fees
Bought tees
Teed off
Pals scoff
Drive ****
In rough
Balls lost
They cost!
Oh crap
Sand trap!
Putts bad
Gets mad!
More flubs
Breaks clubs!
So far
No par
Played poor
No more!
Club house
To souse!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
’Twas raining cats and dogs,
Then a hard drizzle over the bogs.
I was the one with umbrella in-house;
But a girl needed to reach her house -
Beauty this deep must not souse!
This girl I offered to helping,
But heard me some fellas yelping:
Your best chance, your best try!
Yet soaking to keep her dry,
Put my umbrella over hairs plaited wry.
If only she'll look me with a smile,
It’ll make wooing a thing worthwhile;
But all the uneasy way through,
On her face she wore a forbidding cool
As though I smelled of a kiddy’s stool.
I took her number, nonetheless,
Promising to bring an umbrella no less
Every time the heavens poured.
But on reaching my place of board,
And seeing it a figure short was bored.
Argh! howled I in a voice so mean,
Ruing the guile she wreaked upon m’being.
So next time the rains were to fall,
Swore I the darkest oath of all,
My umbrella she’ll never have this doll!
How can stars be there?
I am blind in slush,flinched
From the vagrant wind
Wafting the fog's kiss
To wiz tree down the ravine
Tucked in by the fells
Where kinda moon drops
Souse eerie pebbledashed face
Of me to recoup.
Compose a Choka - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Janis Thompson
07/22/2016
Is it Crazy
By Joeysguy
Sounds in my house that I hear
I relate some to my wife being here
I have pictures all around the house
Everywhere pictures of my spouse
I think of my wife still being here
Like saying I’m sorry or excuse me dear
So much is different in my life
I lost the normal when losing my wife
I’ll sit and pound my heels on the floor
Sometimes till a foot is sore
Sometimes I’ll take a drink
It helps me to relax and think
Thinking about everything I had
My life feels hopeless and sad
Some nights I think when I go to bed
Will I wake in the morning or will I be dead
As crazy as it may seem
Sometimes I may let out a scream
When leaving home I say, see you later to my souse
I’ll say I’m home when I enter the house
I know some things are crazy that I do
I don’t want to write it and tell you
This poem could be very long
Then people would know I’m really a dingdong
There’s a mouse in my house,
a greedy little souse
He’s clever for I never
eyewitness his endeavors,
But the cat sentinel sat,
and I know the little rat
is there.
There are holes in my rolls
and mouse turds in my bowls.
Though a lover, out of cover,
of all fauna I discover
This critter makes me twitter
at his presence as a sitter
in my kitchen,
So I’m bitchin’; but the mouse,
tail a-twitchin’,
scurries on.
Boats lost at sea,,
Earth’s grief
Tell me:
Why do breathless waves
Fall down on your eyes?
Night’s tale,,
That adores my death
I am but a twirl
In your surroundings.
Behold..
I launch my heart
Up and far.
Beyond the wing of Eagle.
I launch my poem..
Without sin, though
Life’s mirror laughs.
You still souse my moans.
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