*A very loose form of Limerick,
but Mabel deserves lots of syllables.
There once was a waitress with the name of Mabel
Who used her bosom as a restaurant table
Beneath her double chins
Mabel flaunted her twins
The one on the right, Cain and the left one, Abel
The locals knew not to make fun of the lady
Ol' Teddy swaggered in, looking kinda shady
He taunted her with smut
She punched him in the gut
That's the last we all saw of Teddy O'Grady
Mabel looked real nice in her crimson ruffled gown
Two cups of coffee; 'pon her boobs she set 'em down
And when I smiled at her
She said, "Thank you, sir"
I left her a satisfied tip of a half-crown
When eating lunch, Mabel never uses a plate
Don't insult her by declaring she's overweight
Cause she'll call you a lout
Chew you up, spit you out
If you tell her she needs a train to move her freight
Mabel's knockers would put the Grand Tetons to shame
But they're the reason she's in the town's Hall of Fame
She wins beauty contests
With her grandiose breasts
I think 'Melons Mabel' is a comely nickname
When Cowardice and Sloth shook hands,
their deal produced a special breed
of thief whose basic low-risk plans
to victimize the ones in need
required no smarts and little speed.
This slacker wouldn’t keep a job.
He’d rather steal than work one day.
He had no conscience; he would rob
an elder of retirement pay
or steal from gardens on his way.
He knew the food bank down the street
had more than food because he’d seen
folks donate cash. Also, some sweet
old ladies ran the place. Some green
he’d gain, for who would intervene?
He donned a mask and swaggered in.
A white-haired lady said, “Hello,
what would you like?” His wicked grin
was followed by, “The CASH! You know,
I’ve got a gun. Girls, don’t be slow!”
Then panic set in—his, not theirs.
They had black belts in martial arts.
“HaYAH!”—They came at him in pairs
and showed him how they treat upstarts
with thieving hands and wicked hearts.
August 10, 2021
entered in the Panic at the Food Bank Contest
received NA August 22, 2021
August 25, 2021
entered in the August 2021 NA's Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Six magpies brought their mourning squawk,
soon joined by several others,
disturbing all their neighbour's talk
and waking sleepy lovers.
Some hopped and did their swaggered strut
between a felted flat roof top
and a guttered water but.
Some preferred a higher perch
and troubled nearby taller tops of green leylandii.
All the while their squawk increased
and shattered suburb's morning peace.
Two black crows flew overhead and settled,
one on gable top, the other found his place to stop
and watch from nearby psychamore.
Upright, silent, silhouettes,
not bearers of the magpie pall
but undertaking nonetheless
to show crow's dignified respects.
They joined this congregation
to recognise corvid's connect.
They joined this chorused agitation
while magpies mourned their murdered son,
crumpled feathers low on grassy ground,
til course of squawk and strut had run,
and one by one they flew, without a sound,
and all was done, and all was done.
When you insist on playing grownup games,
you've only yourself to blame if you lose.
And though the signs can easily confuse,
smoldering embers don't equate to flames.
Innocence can't protect you from love's pain;
like a moth, you're attracted to its flame.
And though it burns, you crave it all the same,
risking all, over and over again.
Unskilled in deceit and detecting lies,
you naively believed his love was true.
And yet, trust must share some of the blame, too;
love's betrayal was a shocking surprise.
Your heart is drowning in a pool of tears,
devastated, you're unable to cope.
And clinging to fragile fragments of hope,
possibilities have morphed into fears.
He swaggered off and didn't even look back,
his departing laugh, flippant and cruel.
And sobbing like an incoherent fool,
you suffered an anxiety attack.
Bob the buzzard is colour blind i think
he doesnt think a flamingo should be pink,
say he has seen many and he knows
that flamingos are blue in Galapagos.
buzzards eyes gleen as he watches them feeding,
now buzzards are big but surely he is exceeding,
tbe size of his hunger no way can he swallow,
a flamingo even if his stomach is hollow
he flew onto its back they looked eye to eye
^get off^ said tbe flamingo, shoo go fly,
buzzard swaggered lost grip on floor did land,.
down came flamingos foot on his head he did stand.
Bob saw stars begged to be freed said he
would never fancy a blue or pink flamingo again for tea
penned 19 January 2019
contest sponsored by Anthony Slausin...Buzzards and flamingos
And his frost-clad lips I gently kissed
So mildly radiant amid this place--
That the silvery night grew quite intense
Until a gasp rushed from his cheeks.
While awakening to each other
Our throbs exploded into daybreak…
When sweet nectar of fresh beginning
Piqued an appetite's thrill…reborn:
Even though flakes bobbed near the pane
I gazed keenly inside those irises
Raw yet tender under gloss of lamp shade
Igniting my hunger for a charmed surprise :
And sipping cedar's pulp of intoxication --- a drink for two
Mint ambrosia through dusky air roused all hours
As we jived , swaggered along together--
On this flamed wintry honeymoon day~
Best Free Verse From November 2018 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Lu Lou ~ Written 11/25/2018
Submitted 12/10/2018
Always in the limelight
Cheerful and bright
I find you as wonderful
As you are bountiful
Yellow dots swaggered
Here and there scattered
Like a child’s laughter
You epitomize summer
Dandelions wild and free
You are beautiful to me
AP: 3rd place, 3rd place 2020
Submitted on October 27, 2018 for contest OVERLOOKED BEAUTY sponsored by JESSE ROWE - RANKED 8TH
There was a man's man, you could say he was grand,
who blessed the cinema screen and had millions of fans.
When he swaggered into a room, men stepped aside,
their wives and their daughters they would all try to hide.
He had something about him, some called it true grit.
Others would say, "What ever it is, I wish I had it!"
He stood around six-foot-four, larger than life.
If you crossed paths, you had better brought more than a knife.
On and off the screen he got his respect,
actors today, sorry to say, don't have that effect.
Willis, Deniro, Pacino and the Rock all rolled into one,
wouldn't come close to John Wayne and the things he has done.
Now I've seen all his movies, thanks to my Dad, his number one fan.
From Rio Bravo, Rooster Cogburn, Chisum and The Quiet Man.
That's just a few, to list all would take too much time
and drain all my ink and ruin my rhyme.
The Duke didn't lose many fights that he fought,
the man he portrayed was invincible we thought.
The battle called cancer he just couldn't juke,
but I'll always remember this pilgrim, known as the Duke.
10/12/18
I was watching
The television
When I Noticed
A clip
Of Captain
Jack Sparrow
All alone
On his ship
He was guzzling
His rum
And continued
To drink
When his Black
Pearl ship
Had started
To sink
He slurred
And he swaggered
From all
That he drank
Then he said
"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow
I'll now
Walk the plank"
Hands tied
And blind folded
As he sank
To the bottom
He was rescued
By a mermaid
When she swam
And she got him
She left him
On the shore
Where his journey
Had begun
When he drank
To his fate
With his bottle
Of rum
I walked down the street today
As one would
Wearing my bright green shoes
As not everyone could
I held my head high
As not everyone should
I swaggered and strutted
As freedom deemed I could
With my headphones on
And yellow scarf slung
I felt fashionably dressed
As only a fashionista would
Compliments were given
As I expected they might
I basked in the glory
As only the vain could
It was such a lovely day
To walk down the street
As I felt I should
Coal-red eyes protruded from your bust
As we swaggered in mock-bravado.
We were afraid of you Charles
And the shadows you cast
From within cast shadows.
Chinese Apple replacing Adam's
And a terry-towelling cap to repel the '02 sun -
Resurrected in '74 -
It was, Charles, a time of rebellion.
Steel-blue Winfields survey the source
Of your pipe-dream...
How you must detest, yet now, that coinage!
And do you see, Charles,
From your self-inflicted throne
(With inscription below)
That it was no pipe-dream?
Perhaps death has cured your blindness.
I Harbour hope, Charles,
With the wisdom I have gained
Since '02
Back in '74,
That you see your feats fulfilled...
And mine forgiven.
for as much as anyone would care to admit,
it all seemed rather molesting.
the skies held dominion over the peeled
despot of sunset.
women young and old shirked in peasantry
kissed two of their fingers.
they pointed at the cross of Christ
as their fingers dragged over their
body to make the symbol in respect.
already 5 minutes late,the carriage
arrived as a beacon of a full moon.
Maidens and spinsters threw their
bodies toward the ground and
caressed his ankles in a desperate
grab of adoration.
in consideration he pulled away without
dismay.
without fanfare or ovation the carriage swaggered its
horse pulled frame through fogs cascade.
beneath the seat held a bottle of Brandy
stolen from a brothel in Paris.
it was easy for ones eyes to fixate on a lazy
wooden panel.....
etched in distressed lettering the word
EL DORADO.
the name had a sinister charm and the evening
became and enchantress of daggers.
Cloaked in a Civil War Cape
Swaggered the fierce
And fearless and cavalier shape:
Proud Ambrose Bierce.
Editor, author and wit,
Bierce had the zest
And courage and cunning to fit
Well in the West.
Then when his days dwindled lean,
Bierce rode away;
Old Mexico swallowed him clean,
Gulping her prey.
Cynics like him are the last
Men to seek fame,
So bitterness out of the past
Still dims his name.
It was at the National Finals Rodeo
The year was 1967, the place OKC
I had just turned three &
was excited as could be
to be behind the chutes watching
a ride that could make history
Freckles Brown was the cowboy
loaded up in chute two
Tornado was the bull he'd drawn
a meaner ride he'd never face
and when they threw the gate
a tremendous roar filled the place
when that blessed buzzer sounded
and they announced his score
Freckles stood as World Champion
out on that arena floor
Every little buckaroo who watched
Freckle's & Tornado fight
went home and rode the legs
off momma's kitchen chairs
that sweet December night
Me, I swaggered round
the back chutes & told
everyone who'd listen
That one day I'd ride like
the great Freckles Brown
In momma's eye, was that
a tear that glistened?
For I'd said before
that I'd ride one day
Did she think that I was fool'n?
Heck I might not be four yet
but I knew it was
something worth doing
So I tip my hat to Freckles Brown
and the rest of
The old timers, too
for they laid the path
that I ride now
and taught us all
a thing or two