Old numbers,
punch ‘em in.
Hang it up.
Nostalgic,
let it ring
in your head.
No pressure,
broken phone
missing keys.
Tiptoeing
on a ledge,
ultra fast.
Silent soft
cat burglar,
itchy grin.
Fingertips
lose their grip,
no fly zone.
Flushed feelings
raise an arch
from her spine.
On raw lips
she tastes the
ache of light.
Darkness wanes,
sadness folds,
with his arms.
I can sense
the creeping
overture.
t’s blasting
out windows
to the lawns.
Pepping up
an entire
neighborhood.
Never tried
this poem
type before,
but I will
give it all
my all to
this entry.
So with hope,
you enjoy.
--------------------------------------------
for-Tricube Challenge Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Oliver Mckeithan
Wet or dry,
a swift shift.
I may fall.
Cursory
blows cut me
to the bone.
Making love
a monsoon
enticing.
Now that I am old,
I can look back and relive...
all the stories told!
The fantastic days,
and the awesome adventures...
when life came to play!
Behind a late sky,
lies the first sight of heaven...
where men learn to fly!
The days of yesterday
Where memories hold clear
The views across the bay
Loved ones still held near
Where memories hold clear
The laughter and the peace
The faint simplicity of release
The views across the bay
Are shimmering like gold
Leading secrets to be told
Loved ones still held near
Before the losses came
The secrets all to blame
Through autumn morning's misty pall
like luffing sails on ancient ships
and blinding fog in which we crawl
to moor our hopes in empty slips.
Like luffing sails on ancient ships,
the billows drift just off the coasts
much like the hauntings of gray ghosts.
And blinding fog in which we crawl,
a stage where nothing seems quite real
except the silence that we feel.
To moor our hopes in empty slips
where only silhouettes remain
~ await reality again...
The phrases lurch unkempt and trite.
The meter’s wrong, iambs lack grace.
One rarely ever gets it right,
and just like that, it falls in place.
The meter’s wrong, iambs lack grace
like two left feet’s unhappy dance;
success seems purely happenstance.
One rarely ever gets it right,
consuming vast amounts of time.
The process lacks both reason, rhyme.
And just like that, it falls in place.
Of brilliance, I must disabuse;
I simply want to slap the muse.
If you’ll take your final exam
I’ll be the invigilator
Questions are big pieces of yam
You must understand to the core.
I’ll be the invigilator
To walk around every minute
Making sure that no one will cheat.
Questions are big pieces of yam
But don’t try to copy from friends
That will be your major offense.
You must understand to the core
Questions need to be read twice, thrice
Pray for wisdom, be honest guys!
Our dog, named Lucy, though she’s sweet,
How sharp can be that doggy’s claws.
A bite from her would be no treat.
I hope to never feel her jaws.
How sharp can be that doggy’s claws.
The other day by accident
she scratched my face (no harm was meant).
A bite from her would be no treat.
The scratch she left me on my face
is bad enough! It left its trace.
I hope to never feel her jaws.
That sure would hurt. For now, this scratch
with make-up I will need to patch.
When dealing with a love-sick fool
One must be strict and must be strong
And follow this one simple rule
Don't let them be a hanger-on
One must be strict and must be strong
To bring such foolishness to end
And a new love then to begin
And follow this one simple rule
Say, "no", I know it's hard to do
But all else just would not be true
Don't let them be a hanger-on
You must just say a quick good-bye
No matter how I beg or cry
A bud cradled within two leaves,
design of trinity sublime.
The proud plant tenderly conceives
pristine picture of pleasure prime.
Design of trinity sublime,
flower between two leaves is gay,
passion of plant set for display.
The proud plant tenderly conceives
kinship motif crafted deftly,
enjoys fervent rapture freely.
Pristine picture of pleasure prime,
in tied two hearts desire awaits
joyous linkage, a child creates.
Wish you were here, beneath the sky,
The night is soft, the clouds so near,
The stars shine down, falling they fly.
But still, I wish that you were here.
The night is soft, the clouds so near,
Beneath the stars, the night is still,
The moon's in mourning, its light a chill.
Shooting stars like streamers fly.
Laughter it echoes, it lilts the breeze,
It brings me peace, sets me at ease.
But still, I wish that you were here.
The birds will come and sing delight,
If you return to me tonight.
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