She whispers, ‘Stay’
yet I find myself heading toward the bay
I start with a hike though the woods
if only the way I knew I could
And then the marshes to soak my feet
I’m on my way to a divine treat
And then there is the entrance to the bay
So little time to release what I have to say
To immerse myself up to my neck
In cooling waters, oh what the heck
It’s late at night and I see the stars
Will they wish me goodbye so near or far
I hold glimpse to the waxing moon
My spiritual turnover is coming soon
Will she miss me my darling love
We were soulmates attached from above
I hear the ghostly fisherman’s bell
And now it’s time for me to go to hell
Don’t cry for me today
It was just an outing to the bay
Its your B’day,
Time to be Happy & gay.
Put on that lovely smile & walk that extra mile!
After all the cakes you bake,
The calorie counter is at stake!
Lay down the boots, drop the shoulder.
Take rest, let the mind wander.
alas it’s your day,
Give the ADDA team a break,
Your dedication is doing wonders,
ADDA is growing stronger…
Whip up a Ganache, make a turnover,
Apple or pineapple –nah, do it with durian when not sober!
Deconstruct a pavlova, reimagine an opera,
A pinch here, a dash there,
A drizzle, a flambe…
Life’s boring- create some melodrama!
Dance a tune, declutter the mind,
Don’t play mommy tonight!
The Girls are teens now,
Let them loose today, don’t raise a brow!
Ask Hubby to be at his best,
Toast a bubbly & forget the rest!
Alas, it’s your B’day,
& You deserve the very best!
There is a root behind it.There is shade behind.
There is a lap behind, Behind those memories,
There is love behind it.
Another turnover makeover the hope,
One chapter opens, another is closed.
I shouted, I shouted, I shouted aloud,
All in me, all of me, I grabbed it all and threw it loud.
A diagram, I made, a hope, I made pragmatically.
Theorems I learned, but they should be understood
for being learned; how it comes to get something
another is a must.
So if you want to see your soul, you should make
your mirror free of dust.
Acceptance and rejections, solutions and hurdles—that is what we call surviving; that is what we call living.
For some, it is hell; for others, it is heaven.
But we can't judge the book by its cover.
There is accuracy and imperfections in between the chapters. Read it, accept it, but deny the judging and
accept the procedure of enjoying.
The Father is an expert hunter.
He has 3 sons.
He is about to die.
He wants to turnover his expertise to his sons.
One day, he invites his 3 sons to the field.
He told to his First Son to see a tree.
He said, "Son, what do you see in a tree?"
The First Son said, "Father, I see the fruits that are ripen."
The Father said in his mind, "You fail".
The Second Son was introduce.
The Father said, "Son, what do you see in a tree?"
The Second Son said, "Father, I see thick leaves and branches in it".
The Father in his mind, "You fail".
Then, the last son which is the youngest.
The Father said to his Third Son,
"Son, what do you see in a tree?"
The Third Son said, "Father, I see birds in twigs.
Some birds are eating the fruits".
"Son, get your bow and arrow.
Shoot those birds", the Father said.
The Father smile. In his mind he is happy and proud.
He is happy to die in his estate.
she has a special magic
or so it seems to me
in the early morning when i rise
i process the beans in the grinder
a short succession of tasks
the coffee is brewing
aroma of her hint of cinnamon
fills the kitchen
as i wait i look out the window
dawn has erased all the darkened shadows
the flowers line the property's end
all are ready for the day
i speak their language, tell them to be patient
let me take her coffee and a pastry
she will be with you shortly
it is Saturday and your day with her
tomorrow is Sunday and i am whisking
her away on a picnic
she does this to me you know
everything she touches becomes family
we share conversations about her
the coffee pot is in its last gurgles
remember, cream, one lump i hear
apple turnover, warmed, buttered
the tray is now filled and ready
pushing me to a faster pace
i turn to the coffee pot, thank you
be right back for mine
as i disappear into the hallway
there is a last gurgle, you're welcome
she has a special magic, everything she touches
becomes family to me
3/3/19 Kismet
** A Very Memorable Christmas Present **
Someone made an err::
Boxing Day ‘ere’s
Been the day of — not after.
What started as the greatest
Christmas ever, turned
Us from better to worse
As our tempers grew, altered
After our fingers were slid into
Those gift-wrapped firm gloves of leather,
Punching through the room’s air
At each other
With words roused from harsh to meaner,
‘Till our referee pup barked
To end our Round 1, forcing a turnover
Into creating a round of rich laughter.
Re-freshed, happier, remembering our
Proper manners appropriate to honor
Our Savior’s birthday…We resolved
A return trip to the store to trade
That shared present of boxing gloves for
A healthier, sturdy set of parallel bars.
————————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 12/25/22
Happy Birthday, King Jesus
Sumthang wrong wiff dez words
They give know direction
To me and you
Hypertheticail thoughts
They don't tell me
What I gotta do
Ribeye, broccoli, and potatoes
Cup of gravy on the side!
The Carney, sorney
Tater, broccoli and
Meat special
Now we know
The garlicky, onion,chivey
Sun dries tomatoes
With olive oil roasted
Red pepper and bacon,
Cream cheesed
Scalloped potatoes.
Where inspired by a
Lonely man begging a
Woman for a date.
The night he scored they
Dined on these dishes.
She made him to harvest
His cattle
Potatoes
Pick the broccoli
And pick the
Apples for the
Turnover
She said she:d
Marry him if he
Planted seven
Peach trees
Seven blackberry bushes
And seven rows of
Lavender
She asked for
Twenty male quails
And fourty hens
She'd consimate
If he bought
Jersey cows
Two females
and one male.
And seven rows
Of mulberry
To make scented soap.
He complyed!
They married before
A orchestra of sixty
And seven vocalist
The preacher wore purple
And ate
Red snapper and apple pie.
I want to change.
To be a good person.
To trust in God.
Start doing the right.
And get baptized.
Then I'll be blessed.
In wealth and wisdom.
My reputation will go far.
Will start raising the vulnerable.
People will respect me.
God will bless me more.
When my day will come.
I'll die peacefully.
And go to heaven.
@Kipngeno Robin.
Tha Formidable Cheru
CHILDHOOD SEX
(for D.P.)
Oh, where is she now, love of my life, the woman I adore?
(I was five that summer, and she eighteen–—
in my childish heart of hearts, I had promised to marry,
knowing nothing of heartbreak and the grownup world of desire!)
— she walked up the steps ahead of me—
wearing a pair of those 1940s-style-cut white short-shorts
like Lana Turner wore in “Postman”:
and my heart did a tailspin–a turnover–—
from which I have never fully recovered!
The story from Arabian nights and its epitome,
life’s frustrations under our unique heavens dome.
The hero of the tail in luck of a modest legacy,
hundred silver coins from destinies hierarchy.
The brilliant idea to invest in fragile glassware,
taken them to the market to gain from the fare.
As Merchant sitting in the hot sun and musing,
how to pyramid the profit to flow ever oozing.
Two hundred with the first turnover, then four,
Allah wills grand me all and more.
A fine house with eunuchs and horses,
social prestige and influential sources.
Calling the most expensive marriage broker,
for the prime ministers daughter bespoke her.
Indeed all imagination until all length,
in that haughtiness completed strength.
The festive celebration in excellence performance,
bride and groom in gorgeous dresses accordance.
The opening dance a prestige’s protocol,
big steps which need to be floated on.
Striking out in his reverie, kicking fragile wares,
destroying his stock in short shattering affaires.
Make believe and its immortal confidence,
destiny and a muse in sympathy of providence.
Opportunities come and leave on a skate
Falling down doesn't mean it's all because of fate
Failure are supposed to teach you about errors not hate
Getting up is all about never giving at any rate
Things can turnover in any date
Opportunities come and leave on a skate
THIS Italian Sonnet does NOT have a regular meter,
has 10 syllables and a rhyming pattern of
abbaabba, cdecde
SEASONS SONNET
One year old today, pink frosted candle.
Year later, ecstatic, open presents.
At three, twirling dress, snapshot pose frequent.
Five years old, sweet toothless grin a scandal.
Sixteen, the sherbert punch, broad smiles handle.
Twenty-eight, sophic change - adult ascent.
Scowling at forty; fabulous event.
Sixty, blows out big bang roman candle.
Early blades of grass tickle baby feet.
Hopping white bunnies in carrot garden.
Damask leaves nudge the storm of Autumn’s grace.
Mannahlike snowflakes beg a turnover greet.
Seasons divine, but in time, the day’s done.
Shimm’ring eternal light, dawn’s glory-face.
10/9/2020
Digital Era technology
Computer Age machinery
Lost and found
In the Information Age frown
Taking place, face to face
The desire to do, whatever, in grace
Necessary to get the praise
For speed and space
Of knowledge turnover
Required for super minded processor
Gathered and decided
To influence their devices
On computer reality communication
By transmitting information
Into a discrete numeric routine
Merry go round machine
Trump Born A Beginner
Trump had been born a beginner;
Prayed at dinner to remain thinner;
He ended being,
Not worth seeing
Is now President and big, fat sinner.
Trump is in another period of denial;
As President he is constantly on trial;
Habits bad,
That he had;
Was killed while crossing a wide aisle.
High turnover in Trump staff started;
Were disturbed and dearly departed;
Brain retarded;
Must be discarded
Instead of lion became loser hearted.
Jim Horn
Turned out being a big, fat sinner.
Green loved to travel
Was very influential
Had a multi-billion dollar turnover,
His coverage spread,
Becoming ruler of the earth,
His beauty was astounding
Attracted many,
Very impressive,
People would travel for miles
Just to look at him,
Or even stroll by,
He must hold the secret of life,
Without him, they would die,
He wasn’t just a plain ordinary color,
Like most colors,
He brought purpose and meaning to life,
He was to save the world,
This made him more special!
Other colors had beauty,
But didn’t have his ability,
Like invisible powers
So astounding
That the world couldn’t exist,
Without this incredible green.
He flourished with his fame
Bringing healing to the nation
Surely they said!
Green was the savior,
Because in him,
There’s life.
06/11/2016
For competition sponsor
Frank Herrera
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