When you think of places that are sad,
you might think of the Germans in Stalingrad,
or you may consider, too,
Napolean, leading the French, at Waterloo,
but, by far, the saddest place around,
for a hundred years, is Mudville town,
the place where Casey at the bat
failed, as his mighty swing fell flat.
Casey made excuses. Folks said, "Save your breath",
and mighty Casey drank himself to death.
Flowers in Mudville, they say, never bloom.
Children grow up in misery and gloom.
Yet, as all hope is disappearing,
lately, I have been hearing,
about a strapping young prospect,
the one standing there on deck.
Do you think he can make Mudville smile?
Will he strike out or hit the ball a mile?
Chicken aroma haunts the booth
Colonel watches from his highlander, heavenly roof
Realizing gimmick, more nourishing than a baby ruth
Candy bar
Named after the major league diamond star
Crispy crunch
Microphones record the munch
From the perfect afternoon lunch
During eleven's hour
Clutch play was the power
Being able to respond
Using leather glove wand
Answering where to go
Enjoy a good show
And a meal
Base hit steal
Served up Freddie style
Working utilities, going the extra mile
Where nothing gets by
Unless the ball is a fly
Experiencing a short stop at the concession stand
Feeding hungry traditional fans
Taking daily win to the bank
For those pinstriping Yanks
Even if game ends with a strike out
Solid defense will earn a healthy shout
“Cluck it
We have a real cool beach bucket!”
Cold in crone collision?
Collusion, choke the core.
Doubtless, my derision!
Just listen to me snore!
Nothingness, the sacred!
O life, flicker and fall!
Berated? Death, doom, and dread!
Red bleed, one and all!
Children, collapse! Cave in, O hope!
Dreams, just fly away!
Tormented lament, thy dope!
Rope tie round decay!
Ice, freeze o'er! O empire, burn!
Ocean, take the lot!
Temper-fount a-taciturn!
Tamarind, a thought:
Folly, my love! O lights, glow low!
Luminesce and die!
Hawk and dove and God? Oh no!
Hear my battle-cry!
Frenzy, strike out! Sulphur, smolder!
Like the way we were?
God of death and left a cur?
Reality, purr...
O tempest, flash! Rain, in torrent!
Storm, ignite! Flood, come!
O Queen Dido, thy lament?
Wargods, thrum! For some...
a practiced smile on her face
a mother’s oenomel breath puffs wind under gossamer wings
reminiscent of the translucent wings of green lacewings—
mistaken for a pest, but beneficial—
to strike out and explore a thorny world
resisting the siren call of spring’s scent
turning their heads with songs of love
emerging personalities
unravel the cocoon spun in love
as naiveté fragmentises into bluster
a mother unobtrusively dries tears
desiring a moral code of empathy towards all
the sweet fragrance of pride
a tantalising selection between
intrinsic values and
natural curiosity—
concomitant heartbeat tempos to dog-eared sheet music of ambition
culminating in Life’s crescendo
natural selection, be damned
as recalcitrant offspring echoes eons of mitochondrial resilience
I'd like to thank you (you're so nice)
for all your well-reasoned advice.
Without you, I would sure be lost,
forgetting to be brushed and flossed.
I wonder how I got this far
without you, wisdom's superstar.
From everything that you have said,
you must think I don't have a head.
I am so very error prone,
dare I strike out on my own?
I would like to return your gift:
should you find yourself adrift,
I think the most practical advice
is to wear a coat if you see ice.
The ocean's cold. I hope you don't freeze.
Hold onto this anchor please.
Hear the vendors at the game
driving loyal fans insane
“Peanuts, popcorn, pretzels” they shout
With my friends and me, they all strike out
It doesn’t matter where
It’s not about who
The spotlight
The stage
Theatrical
Words beyond what world sees and hears
Words uncertain
Tomorrow unseen
Words through suggestions
Cushion of no comfort
Amid the storms of doubt and circumstances
Words of wonder and delight
Precision in direct light
Words gather like no other
Statement and appeal
Words strike out for real
No longer concealed
Words surround
They found you
The gathering
Word out
"I have been a stranger in a strange land." Bible, Exodus 2:22
Strange and shy
Strange and scared
Scared at home
Scared at school
School is frightening
School is scary
Scary kids
Scary teachers
Teachers might disapprove
Teachers might yell
Yell at a mistake
Yell at a false move
Move apart
Move away
Away from trouble
Away from fear
Fear of boys
Fear of girls
Girls tease
Girls laugh
Laugh at my clothes
Laugh at my red face
Face the music
Face the big boys
Boys who fight
Boys who strike
Strike three
Strike out
Out of range
Out of danger
Danger here
Danger there
There a landmine
There a snare
Snare a rabbit
Snare a kid
Kid at 12 o'clock
Kid on the playground
Playground threats
Playground bullies
Bullies loom
Bullies go away
Away from people
Away and alone
Alone is safe
Alone is lonely
Lonely...
Safe...
He is on his riding mower.
He looks like me,
only he owns a rich man's house,
a garden measured in acres -
his skin is better.
No picket fences: this is upscale America.
Long drives and old stone walls; gated.
A cultural dream
pioneering into new luxury,
the way covered wagons once did,
canvas closed, oxen quietly moving on
into territory that's hard to imagine.
I see him standing
near his wide columned front door,
he is smiling the way I smile
when I think no one is looking.
I like him, and imagine his beautiful
wife in my arms.
He left the wagon train,
to strike out on his own.
They found the green valley,
gold seams under their feet,
and the land already posted,
to keep others out.
I PRAY A BLACK CAT,
CROSSES YOUR PATH.
I PRAY THAT SOMEONE,
STEALS YOUR STASH.
I PRAY YOUR DREAMS,
NEVER COME TRUE.
I PRAY THERE IS A HOLE,
IN YOUR CANOE.
I PRAY IT'S DARK AND,
YOU FEEL THE RAIN.
I PRAY YOU’RE A JUNKY,
WHO CAN'T FIND A VEIN.
I PRAY YOUR NIGHTMARES
COME TRUE.
I PRAY THERE IS ACID
IN YOUR SHAMPOO.
I PRAY YOU HAVE NO LIGHT,
AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL.
I PRAY THAT LIFE,
IS A CONSTANT STRUGGLE.
I PRAY YOUR PARACHUTE FAILS,
WHEN YOU JUMP FROM THE PLANE.
I PRAY THAT YOU ARE,
HIT BY A TRAIN.
I PRAY YOU SEEK AND,
NEVER FIND.
I PRAY PEOPLE,
TREAT YOU UNKIND.
I PRAY YOUR PARTNER.
CHEATS ON YOU.
I PRAY YOU CAN,
FEEL THE BLUES.
I PRAY YOU TRIP,
AND FALL.
I PRAY YOU HAVE,
NO ONE TO CALL.
I PRAY YOU,
LOSE YOUR MIND.
I PRAY YOU ARE,
LEFT BEHIND.
I PRAY YOU ARE STRANDED,
ON AN ISLAND.
I PRAY THAT YOU ARE
ALWAYS CRYING.
I PRAY YOU ARE
STUNG BY A BEE.
I PRAY YOU,
HIT A TREE.
I PRAY YOU,
STRIKE OUT.
I PRAY YOU ARE,
RIDDLED WITH
DOUBT.
Turbo1904 ?
Jim Stokes is at the Memphis Zoo.
He’s been assigned to interview
a Southern copperhead. A few
have scared him s _ _ _ less in the past.
Thank God this one’s behind thick glass!
Jim: Good, morning, Mr. Copperhead.
Snake: It’s Missss. Welcome to my abode.
Jim: You’re coiled as if to strike out. Why?
I haven’t come to taunt or goad!
Snake: I’m used to being in strike mode.
Jim: How do you feel about your—uh, room?
Do you ever feel mistreated
or deprived in that little tomb?
Snake: Cheesh! Now you’ve made me feel cheated.
Till you came, I never felt defeated!
Jim: Sorry. Why not completely uncoil?
Wouldn’t that feel good for a change?
Snake: Your taunting makes my cold blood boil.
This interview is really strange.
I’ll uncoil if my freedom you arrange!
Jim: How unrealistic can you be?
I’m scared of you old wicked snakes.
Snake: (It strikes the glass) If I get free,
I’ll find you even if it takes
ten years. You know, glass sometimes breaks!
June 12, 2023
A bum rap the disheveled prisoner claims
Clamoring about in his padded cell
Unable to recall the women he maims,
He made their lives a living hell.
Lumbering about like a trapped animal
Rattling the bars, he shouts for a hearing
Nothing about him seems remotely rational
Not even the size of his earlobe piercing.
One might label him a piece of trash
Still, I think, every human has some worth
It’s so easy, in disgust, to strike out and bash,
But this man is some mother’s child at birth.
No doubt, she still loves him as mothers do
Unable to save him from his demon self,
She would caress him with a love so true,
Trying her best to see the best of him through
Another inexplicable betrayal of common sense
And failure to take any responsibility,
Compelling the situation toward a recompense
Although it will likely not alter his sensibility.
Written November 16, 2022
Civility is a characteristic I wish to revive
Long dormant in our society, it is so rare
Since we all live together trying to survive
Let’s be nice to each other, showing we care.
I know everything is not sugar and spice
And into “every life some rain must fall,”
But, for heaven’s sake, can’t we be nice,
And get along with each other, after all.
Being polite and courteous in all we do
Not getting involved with the dross of life
Just showing kindness with a smile or two,
Helps us to avoid any pettiness and strife.
Treating others as we like to be treated
Is the Golden Rule, a foundation for civility
Some folks strike out, feeling mistreated,
But being civil is within everyone’s ability.
THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written October 18, 2022
Submitted to “This or That, Vol. 14" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Don’t talk to me of justice,
Don’t talk to me of pain,
Don’t talk to me of slavery -
it’s too hard to explain.
Don’t talk to me of freedom,
cos we all pay the price.
We strike out on our brothers -
and do it more than twice.
Don’t talk to me of a new Peace
all across the globe,
The streets are paved with bloodshed,
yet we say they’re paved of gold.
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,
listen and you’ll see,
the violence and destruction
It’s too hard to believe,
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,
listen to the sound,
There is no room for breathing
as a man’s tied to the ground.
Don’t talk of changes coming,
we dare not hope today.
Cos promises are tomorrow,
and freedom slips away
We march with distant voices,
that fall upon deaf ears,
we’re marching for our brothers,
with hearts so full of fear.
Just give me one last promise,
that Love comes shining through;
the bright star of creation,
a start of something new.
A sign that change is coming
when something in us moves,
and the world is all together,
and joined in Grace and Love.
Copyright, Suzy Davies, 2022. All Rights Reserved.
i look at life from the side
i am always wrong
i look at life while perfectly centered
i am still always wrong
i look at life at a right side view
i am definitely wrong on that end
i look at life at a left handed view
things begin to become a bit clearer, but i am still thrown curve balls and strike out
totally exhausted and fully burnt out, i chalk it all down to lessons learned and call it a day
tomorrow i start it all over again, and the irregularly rhythmic beat goes on
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