Winners collect
on Spellin' Bees.
But studyin'...is
Tedious, such a Chore.
Trophies, ribbons,
cake, ice-cream.
Applause for pupils
who place fourth.
Winners collect
on Spellin' Bees.
But crammin'...is
Ho-Hum, such a Bore.
Knowledge, gift cards,
free-day sprees.
Treats for students
who can score.
Beneath the stars, a glittery haze,
A cosmic queen in her celestial daze.
She told me, "Darling, can't you tell?
This is just your fabulous destiny, spelled!"
She pulled out cards, all shimmery and bright,
And whispered secrets, bathed in moonlit light.
"The stars align, the moon's a rosy hue,"
(I just wanted to find my favorite shoe!)
"The Darkside of Aquarius, honey, calls,
Prepare for shopping sprees and velvet falls!
Your spirit, sweetie, is quite entwined,"
(With a perfectly matched handbag I can't find!)
She spoke of eras, crushes, and such strife,
As I just hoped for a drama-free life.
"A spiritual and sparkly, fated art!"
(I'd rather scroll through TikTok, bless my heart!)
I checked my phone, a little sigh,
And caught a twinkle in her eye.
"You'll find your truth; you'll feel the glow!"
"Okay, but can we get some froyo, though?"
The prophecy, a grand design,
Turned out to be just a good time.
The Darkside of Aquarius? Pfft!
Just my bestie suggesting a spontaneous road trip!
A sudden drizzle gushed along the street,
That I wiggled out , romping and playing
In my cotton jumpshirt as summer cooled,
To allow a downpour of monsoon rain.
Swerving through puddles where debris
Gathered around little tots' feet,
Our lithe bodies slip-skidded, glided
On a roller-coaster ride of muddy suds... what fun!
Then, I picked dingy ferns coiled by reeds,
Merrily smiling past waters, unclear…
Till Mom and Dad yelled "kids , clean up...”
O youth's play of bubble-pop made us blush.
Then soft winds crooned among the trees
Where only spellbound laughter can recall
This whimsical atmosphere: A time to reel,
To cherish the frolic in heat of summer days
Which spangled my childhood sprees aloft!
logging a hundred miles
old camper now rusted---
each reverie...a tear
eyes moonless torn by nights;
frazzled rites of youth's trysts ,
were never just ...road sprees
Swear words, public nudity
Teen-aged crime and murder sprees
Abortion-on-demand, LGTQB
~ No place left for granny or me
In 2011, Hamas released one (1) Israeli
for 1,027 Palestinian detainees
Somehow that never added up for me
This Sunday Hamas will release five innocent Israelis
for 700 Palestinian detainees
More than half of whom were detained for killing sprees
I can understand trading my prize-winning cow for your horse
even giving you my wife along with her papers of divorce
But when it comes to returning five innocent hostages for hundreds of killers
That’s a transaction with which I am just not familiar
Phoenix was a local shop,
As funky as could be,
And most times when I’d visit,
There’d be something there for me.
The owner and his partner
Loved to travel and explore
And from everywhere they went,
Their shopping sprees would stock the store.
From jewelry to sculpture,
Blankets, pottery and rugs,
Every item held your interest,
Not a place for yawns or shrugs.
Took a ride today to Phoenix
And the shop was just a shell,
Not one object there to look at,
Nothing left for them to sell.
One more loss I must acknowledge -
That’s the way things seem to go.
Soon there won’t be anything around
Of what I used to know.
Israel will be free
from Muslim killing sprees
Israel will be free
from screaming leftist banshees
Israel will be free
from antisemitic UN decrees
Israel will be free
from the Jordan River
to the Mediterranean Sea ~
Israel will be free
lost in gold glamour
hammock trees whisper green breeze
lotus color sprees
a warm noon warning
of soon tangerine caress
dragonfly's address
swinging sage summer
June beauties in lemon squeeze
saffron memories
PARROT PAIR
Parrot pair perching on branch,
thinking deep, also taking rest,
where to build a cosy nest,
both being devoted and stanched.
Parrot couple yearn for nestling.
In mating season coming close.
Natural ! Love with lust arose,
through hidden parental feeling.
Twigs, leaves, hay, feral grass to pick
as building blocks, materials ,
collecting all essentials.
Skilful birds to use curvy beaks.
Natural instinct of all species :
To survive through evolution,
caring, nurturing the young ones.
But birds do care for too short sprees.
Not guaranteed in coming year
will meet or mate same parrot pair.
Mating period: Season spring
is sure to greet lovely offsprings.
evil elise either emitted or emoted expansive everyday E’s
elroy elephant embodies extemporaneous entrails with ease
ellie eggplant embroideries endometriosis, exacting it to its knees
emma emissary’s elderly eels expect eyes to show off their ESPs.
etta elegance extravaganza excites earthworms, electrician’s tease.
edward expectations entices earaches edging out evergreen trees.
elise, edwina and eloise eagerly expect estimated exactness in sprees.
evil elise either emitted or emoted expansive everyday E’s.
The supermarkets in Manhattan
Naturally are small,
Perhaps to compensate for
All the buildings that are tall.
They aren’t meant for shopping carts
Or giant stock-up sprees.
Most people grab the items
They can carry home with ease.
Today, though, in the suburbs
I hit Wegman’s - what a store!
So huge it seemed like there were
Miles of aisles to explore.
The produce all looked fresh, as did
The dairy, fish and meats.
The bakery was filled with lots
Of yummy fresh-made treats.
And oh, the choices in the section
Set aside for beer!
The IPA’s alone produced
A grin from ear to ear.
For someone used to city marts
I sure was blown away,
But overwhelmed by all the stuff
So tempting on display.
When the leaves are budding on the trees
It is said love blooms in the springtime,
Meadowland critters are going on sprees
When the leaves are budding on the trees,
We hear the soft whisper of the breeze
From our warm hearts we pen a rhyme
When the leaves are budding on the trees,
It is said love blooms in the springtime.
Written March 26, 2022
At last spring is coming—Achoo!--
with songbirds and skies of clear blue.
My nose will be dripping
and meds I’ll be sipping
while lovely blooms burst into view.
Though allergies briefly displease
my joy won’t be quelled by a sneeze.
My eyes will be bleary,
red, itchy, and teary;
but bring on those fun springtime sprees!
February 17, 2022
entered in the Spring in Air Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Santa got stuck up the chimney,
He’s put on so much weight this year,
Cos lockdown stopped his reindeer sprees,
So too much cake and beer!
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