I'll be back before it gets dark
after we get tired of playing king of the hill.
Sun sets so late in summer
against the willows..
sometimes I forget.
No, it just isn't so.
I don't always choose them over you,
'course I could never tell you that.
You're a girl, a special one.
But I can't tell you that either.
Still, when you told me your stomach hurt,
and I was the reason..
I believed you.
Don't know what to say, never seem to
'cept maybe
'Sorry you feel bad, I know that place too.'
'Put your sandals on, I'll walk you home
we can go slow.'
Oh alright - looks over her shoulder to the gang
'now we can hold hands.'
No Flag on the Hill
He woke to the hiss of burning plastic
a child's shoe, half-melted in the road.
Something like singing came from the mosque,
but it was only wind
through broken glass.
The birds left weeks ago.
Even the dogs are quiet now.
A rusted swing creaks in a schoolyard
where no one plays anymore.
A mother once painted the front gate blue.
Now it’s ash and wire.
Someone drew a border
right through our kitchen tiles.
They boil rice with rainwater and clove,
eat in silence.
Outside, a drone's red eye
blinks, blinks, blinks
and does not blink away.
Fresh ocean air
Oh, take me there!
To the place below the hill
Three hundred years
I hold it dear
Ancestors can be felt still
For all I've roamed
My heart knows home
And it cannot get it's fill
How does it long!
For ancient song
And the view from mine own sill
A seat of peace
My mind's at ease
Oh, the terrors a place can kill
Soon I'll return
All else to burn
And allow my heart to spill
I plant a tree on top of the hill
and there it stood still
I water it with my tears
and it kept blooming throughout the year
and now it is spreading it’s branches everywhere
and its trunks is parachuting into the sky
but its main root is getting dry
cause no more tears are left in my eyes
the hill top tree has a short destiny
its fibrous roots are withering
and the people cannot sing.
meet me at the hill top tree
I have an important message for thee
Gather the team and come
before the mid-night hour is done
The cuts are deep and everyone is
loosing precious sleep for the
tree root runs deep in the ground
and suspicions are swelling around
You have to hold onto democracy
before it dies, get aboard the mid-night train
and your life will never be the same
the heart is were good deeds grow
and from the abundance of the heart
your emotion flows
meet me on top of the hill
I just want to sing.
Written: January 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Regina Mcintosh
"There are twilight times when only the moon will muse on my misery." By POET.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shadowy stillness does embrace
Showing the town such a showplace
People are fully dressed for sleep
Love aching is a wound so deep
The trees that line the waterway
In morning softness, gentle sway
She has no will but pain and weep
Love aching is a wound so deep
A painter shares his scene with care
Each moment bears a love affair
Regain some bliss others keep
Love aching is a wound so deep
The river's voice is full of pain
Gorged in tremulous skeins of rain
With love, its beauty holds a heap
As it flows onward to the sweep
Love casts a moon hush in the gloom
Seraph love time starts to assume
The moon shone down a hillock steep
Love aching is a wound so deep
Soft t-shirts, warm flannels, easy to step into
Cozy fleece, light cotton, stretchy elastic waistbands
Comfy nightgowns, flowered pajamas, and a mumu
Retirement encourages a new way to dress
Comfort over class, coziness over chic
Fashion is over the hill now
I live in the country
The only ones who see me are my husband and my dogs
I’m listening to a song,
that’s captured my mood.
What’s the singer saying?
If it knew, I’d sing along.
but the slurry words elude.
It’s an artistic choice, I suppose,
and I don’t require deeper meanings.
A squirrel stands defiantly in the middle of the path,
A tiny, furry-tailed, usurper - quite out of the routine.
“Hello fluffy rodent,” I baby-sing, as it watches me,
“What an odd meeting, are you hoping for a feeding?”
I try to pass but it jittery-scampers and cuts me off.
"I have a test, get out of the way, you crazy nut-thief”
I glance at my watch; l might really be late to lab.
So, I leave the path to the possibly rabid rat.
if it comes at me, on-God, I swear I’ll kick it,
launch it ballistically into the evergreen thicket.
How I long for a coffee, hot and sweet,
or a sandwich and salty chips - that would be nice -
but then I would be late for class. I sigh in defeat.
It started to drizzle. This afternoon will be miserable.
.
.
Songs for this:
Out of Myself by Bebo Best & The Super Lounge Orchestra
Jettin' by Digable Planets
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December!
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_15.mp3
Some call me Jill, a jealous kid
I write rhymes for you to read
I’m Jack’s bosom friend
Our friendship has no end.
I’m not jealous at all
I save him in every fall
Like the incident on the hill
I’m strong to work on a treadmill.
I always remind Jack to be nimble
With smiles showing my dimple
I go with his wife once in a while
To share my healthy life’s style.
I give him pie every Christmas
And say, "You are loved by Jesus"
While pulling its plum with joy
He says, "Jesus, I’m a good boy."
Jill lives in a town with a mill,
She loves wearing clothes with no frill,
Though she doesn't mind them made of twill,
She cooks her foods using a grill.
She often climbs high on the hill,
To fetch fresh water with a thrill.
Today, she felt both tired and ill,
Filling the drum, she must fulfill.
So, her mum made her go fetch still.
Jill couldn’t climb despite her skill.
She felt worse in the windy chill,
And fell, spilling the bucket fill.
The valley echoed loud her shrill,
Her fall was stopped by an anthill.
Now her mum'd pay the clinic bill,
Though doing so is not her will.
Why not fetch from a nearby rill?
Now she's stuck taking a strong pill,
Just God knows when she'll take it till,
For that steep fall was a near-kill
28th October, 2024.
Updated on: 28th January, 2025.
Contest: Jill Nursery Rhyme
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
Contest Judged: November 18th, 2024 1:26:00 AM
Placement: Third
Over the hill,
Sending light your way,
A new day breaks,
To rise up and say,
I've battled so much,
Sometimes lost my way,
But my past does not define,
Who I am today.
Over the hill,
Sending hope your way,
Remember your strength,
As you take on today,
It's onwards and upwards,
So come what may,
You have what it takes,
Nothing can get in your way.
Over the hill,
Sending strength your way,
You are more than deserving,
Of a bright and happy day,
No matter what you face,
Remember there's always a way,
Hang on in there and battle through,
Brighter days are not that far away.
High on your hill you just look down your nose
Where self-supremacy and hypocrisy grows
Only filth and bile drips from your mouth
A moral compass that always points south
To all of us you're a carnival clown
You build yourself up by tearing us down
You feign humility and sincerity
But a fool on the hill forever you'll be
It all came crashing down around us
Someone had to fire the first shot
He wasn’t happy
You killed him, that’s all wrong
The first shot is always a warning, it’s war etiquette
So strange, mother would have loved him, he had manners
God, she would say, you eat like an animal, use your knife and fork
Football mum, need to rush, big game today, come and watch us, it’s life and death
They wanted our piece of the hill
We wanted their piece of the hill
Rush, rush, take the hill, how many bullets can you kill
He wants to talk to them, Mr etiquette
You would be proud of him mum
So Polite
They shot him like a dog
Rush, rush, take the hill, how many bullets can you kill
We killed them all
It’s now our hill
Did you see me, mum, did you see me score
Were you too busy with your other son..
Where do all those rivers run
Which take so many far from here?
Some leave for a day or two
While others seem to go for years.
As I watch the waters flow
I feel a certain type of chill,
For I don't know the answer
And I am sure I never will.
Now, where do all the birds go
That catch a ride on thermals high?
Seem they disappear so quick
With quite a sound as they pass by.
Some will return in the spring
Yet there's a few I'll never see,
And for those now lost in time,
They're a mystery to me.
I sit through every season
And I change with the weather too;
I've watched old ones pass away
While mothers bring in life anew.
Day and night, through rain and snow,
Often saved from the lumber mill;
For eighty years I'm the tree
That sits alone upon the hill.
My tears dried up when I began to commit sins,
In the furnaces of misery, my dreams were consumed.
In the darkness of my impure soul, love committed suicide.
I look at humanity with the dilated pupils of an undocumented illegal immigrant.
I have dark skin like my deported ancestors.
In my bruised heart burn the flames of freedom, equality and fraternity.
Under the weight of carnivorous chains, my ancestors suffered for centuries, so that I would never desecrate my identity.
The tortures of the slave trade and slavery are etched in my tormented mind.
In the darkness of the ruins that humans revere, I wander like a living dead in search of eternity.
The ephemeral pleasures of this polluted Earth did not dominate me.
I love life with the murderous impulses of a drug addict who knows that one day death will liberate.
An ocean of tears to drown this procession of hidden dramas.
An escapade sweet as a marshmallow day
when tangerine dreams fed our evergreen stream.
Our magnet attraction neath radiant ray
did butter the air where the breezes did teem
in whirlwind through roses anointing the brae.
Their scent, my surrender, romantic the scheme,
exotic the fever and dance with a flame.
Ah, rapture of capture! The wooer’s end game.
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