Their wedding was toted “best of this century”
They had both been born wealthy.
Neither appreciated how rare this elegance was in 1930.
Their parents had kept it from them.
There were elaborate bouquets in silver vases.
Thousands of people were starving, but this meant nothing.
Her silk gown had been flown in from Paris.
French Parisian lace and pearls adorned the bodice.
He wore a top hat, and a frock that screamed expensive.
They were oblivious to the starving children, and empty tummies.
Neither heard the cries and wails of those who were homeless.
Their wedding was toted the “best of the century”.
Obscene really
Categories:
toted, nostalgia,
Form: Prose Poetry
I once knew a woman in Hackensack
Toted what she had in a small rucksack
As she walked the streets,
Looking for someone neat
To take the cumbersome load off her back.
written November 1, 2021
Categories:
toted, life, lonely, sad, urban,
Form: Limerick
Am I a Summer’s Day?
By Sy Roth
Do I compare myself to a summer’s day?
I think not,
Winter’s chill perhaps,
Cold rivulets of icy waters
Coursing down a crenelated brow
Perhaps.
A dirge,
A threnody
A morose psalm to an ancient soul
A toddler’s wobbly steps taken down a bumpy road,
Rocks kicked up along dusky, chilled ancient iters,
Toted memories borne in metal hods
Black rimed with coal dust
To ward off wintry chills.
Humped to the lean-tos
Quickly, in the hurried winds of time,
Detritus carried along in waves of my own confusion.
And the summer’s day an illusion of
Tripping down bare-tree lanes.
I am the winter of my own discontent.
Categories:
toted, bereavement,
Form: Free verse
Life Changes
Written: by Miracle Man
1/8/2021
Each decade toted with it a serious life shift,
at first my exuberance gift wrapped them in a haze.
With changes so subtle my boat began to drift,
I encountered periods of boredom and malaise.
But as clock passed, each decade seemed to worsen,
Now I reminisce of times when pain was strange.
Today I fight feeling like an old displaced person,
thoughts lingering on the past and not long range.
Categories:
toted, age, change, life,
Form: Lyric
Mock merriment pervades the aisles
choking on the diapers scent.
Why now! Why me! Why not just pee!
The carriage wheels in clatter mode
protest the weight of toted lode
“I want the frog!” “I want the toad!”
Then!! Heading toward the check out lines
I pass the aisle of “sipping wines”
continuing a mother’s ruse
telling the kids….it’s mommy’s juice.
The kids asleep with Grinche’s mouse
I sprawl across a tinseled couch
to toast the tilting Christmas tree
and close my eyes – it’s ten past three.
John G. Lawless
©12/17/2019
Categories:
toted, children, christmas, confusion,
Form: Rhyme
A Fix Or Repair Daily was toted
Where Fix It Again Tony was noted
Trump's Tariff wars
Closed garage doors
So my Kick It Again got demoted.
Categories:
toted, business, car, discrimination, integrity,
Form: Limerick
tiny hands and huge heart spied this pattern of life
a flight to heaven forerun by sweet token words
you are what you read, but cherished for what you write
a nascent artist who could easily entice
a subtle rhyme from tears that strike the earth
tiny hands and huge heart spied this pattern of life
she toted pen, paper, and the need to recite
phrases that delivered so much more than self-worth
you are what you read, but cherished for what you write
deeply immersed in a literary device
her mind rode this wave like the skilled surfer
tiny hands and huge heart spied this pattern of life
this precocious gift came wrapped in a lavish smile
a child who saw tremendous joy in giving verse
you are what you read, but cherished for what you write
never to be forgotten a soul free of strife
her story tolls like the bells of wisdom and church
tiny hands and huge heart spied this pattern of life
you are what you read, but cherished for what you write
Categories:
toted, child, children, community, death,
Form: Villanelle
Did Become Devoted
Preparing poems did become devoted;
Purpose of poetry we have promoted;
To your delight,
Write poem might;
In brains around our poems we toted.
Jim Horn
Categories:
toted, allegory, analogy,
Form: Limerick
When big rocks turned into tiny trees
Flocking gulls balanced atop laser beams.
Ginormous people, accompanied by humongous animals, toted big axes behind them.
All of this happened way back when . . .
Way, way back when kids were just plain kids.
4.21.2017
Categories:
toted, children, dream, fantasy,
Form: Rhyme
Sinner Who Is A Beginner
Liar, sinner both
And him to tell truth was loath
Also under oath.
Democrats want promoted
Truth serum around be toted,
Daily done devoted.
Repeat and repeat
Sending out a stupid tweet;
Brains of moron's meet.
Answer to our prayers
Knowing less Trump ever cares;
Morons come in pairs.
Each other support
When they have their day in court
Should have been a torte.
Was rhetorical
Question also historical;
Had he lost his mind?
Categories:
toted, adventure, allegory, analogy,
Form: I do not know?
As Death came knocking he handed me the Three Keys.
He said I'd used my Free Will and had me a choice,
Equal sums of Goodness, of Evil - if you please ,
Third was to do Nothing, but stand and make no noise.
My journey then began through the celestial sphere,
.Till I reached the Pearly Gates with doors firmly locked.
The Record Keeper quietly beckoned me near,
Showed me what was written, my deeds all nicely clocked.
The Book had toted up the sum of all I’d done,
And all were neatly placed upon a golden scale.
Each key he placed in turn, the weighing had begun;
Of the three, only one would balance without fail.
The Keeper explained what each key really meant-
If Good outweighed, he said, it'd open Heaven's doors,
If Evil your added sum, to Hell you are sent,
Preterition gets Purgatory's lonely moors.
Now choose ye all the life you choose with your Free Will,
Wouldst thou like the key of Good , or drink Evil's swill,
Perhaps you'd choose to them pass, do Nothing , just chill.
Three keys are yours, as you go through life's great mill.
~13 Jul 2016~
12 syllables per line checked via www.howmanysyllables.com
Categories:
toted, allegory, deep,
Form: Quatrain
How many Mary Celestes sail
On the uncharted oceans of your mind?
How many lost souls vainly flail
To clamber on board, how many left behind?
So many unvisited ports
Beckon, tantalize and tease.
Does one survive on life’s orts
And accept “Destiny” with peace?
Which Ghost Ship's your succor, you ask?
Who’ll take you on board?
Are you the one who’ll set the task,
Or the one to command where its shored?
How much jettison to your account
Is toted in your Book?
How much flotsam can you count
Which you wish you never took?
Categories:
toted, allegory, conflict, introspection,
Form: Rhyme
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
The memory of a person is established
By the length of shadow cast on earth,
Some shadows remain long after departure,
While others seem to scamper into the grave;
Man is rarely commemorated for two things,
Those not yet started or those left un-finished.
He will be remembered far longer
For contributions made to life’s picnic,
Than for the Doggie bag he toted away.
Yesterday is a storage locker
Containing all of life’s previous endeavors
Tom
Categories:
toted, memory,
Form: Free verse
Our earlier actions have bearing on tomorrow,
No matter how minuscule in persuasion they be.
Oft times some reaction toted with it, sorrows,
Undulating toward others who didn't agree.
At times when acting when void of thought,
Assuming our choices would affect just one.
Futile attempts to undo guided us to naught,
Because no action taken ever became undone.
Categories:
toted, abuse, words,
Form: Lyric
Dawn debuted stealthily,
as a breeze rustling through cat-tails;
But time, toted in its attache case,
the not-looked for;
Soon circumstances of the day
were screeching like a Red Tailed Hawk
with eyes set on a field mouse.
Categories:
toted, allegory,
Form: Free verse
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