Tons of pineapples and mozzarella,
the perfect side for a scary movie;
Pie built out of two handed slices,
my mouth is already watering;
Stuck waiting nearly thirty minutes,
I could have sworn they said fifteen;
Hangrier with every millisecond,
driver jump that three car pile up!
After twenty more the doorbell rang,
delivery guy heard the chilling theme;
He said ‘You’re my last stop wanna hang?’
I replied ‘Sure. Scares are for sharing.’
A new friend? Icing on the cake;
Such is the great pizza mistake.
'Cat's Cradle's' a string game, --forty inches
enables a noose. Fastened end, handles
it's stable. Weave string through finger-pinches
finagles new patterns that'll form like, 'Candles.'
'Soldier's Bed' is another fine heartburn,
bolder threads perfect, designer fashion,
shoulders had carried the full weight in turn.
Old sage said, "Time waits for none," new passion.
'The Manger' is the fourth well-known styling,
form major curves, though new sorts of concerns,
the nature, be wrong for Christ's smiling,
become fainter, --drinking trough, hoofed beast yearns.
Hand strings, a challenge that'll be quite scheming
that springs unexpected hurdles, loopers
then straying's toward taxing twist-seaming
planned strips; string game for two-handed troopers.
Feelings flow when hands touch
attraction felt, love or friendship?
Sometimes distraction, used when speaking
hidden from view, what is this action?
A Mother’s call, hold my hand
is it protection or keeping control
A Father’s hand, ruffles your hair
showing his love and care
A shake of a hand, saying hello
another shake, saying cheerio
A girlfriend a boyfriend?
when do you know?
Walking along, hands never letting go
feelings increase as time unfolds
A wedding arrives, greetings galore
shaking hands, some you do not know
The firstborn, trace face and nose
Fingers, an extension of hands well known
Despite your age, hands still hold on
fingers entwine, grip not letting go
Holding the hands of a loved one
In a two-handed grip, neither letting go
The grip then triggers thoughts
both, understanding the hidden content
aftersomanyyears of listening to rainclouds
you forget towonder
what you were crying for
mouseholes long patched over
are revisited by that catlover
who became a two-handed umbrella man
they are empty – the holes
alwayswere
the mice long moved to Florida
lived elsewhere not evenclose
so you write a little mousy poem
– smile
take awalk
around the sun
Searching through the forest,
chasing dreams your sleep has wagered
And finding yourself in the mindless
spatial wasteland
You play two-handed poker
with the devil of your fright
The Prince holding just one card,
as you gamble it all…
Forever promising:
“This hand will be your ticket out”
He deals chance from the bottom,
this third time to be the charm
Your hand is folded,
as the present fires upon the night
Hitting your fate dead center,
all that’s left in quicker sand
Drowning the last excuse
of your bloodless past refusals
Salvation left in full retreat
—all exits thrice denied
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Fakers
Fraudsters
Frankenstein's
Come on please
in your wheelchairs
so what?
No knees, big deal
you have so many abbreviations
more than eye
Show offs with your big wheels
missing body parts here and there
virus and bacteria attacking you everywhere
So what? is what I say
why do you all steal my label
you two handed freaks
Stop with this handicapped nonsense
you have two hands
so leave me my sorrows, and only word
Tiss I
who is handicapped
with one hand
Eye know
Searching through the forest,
chasing dreams your sleep abandoned
And losing yourself in the mindless
spatial distance
You play two handed poker
with the devil of the night
The Prince holding only one card,
as you gamble it all…
Forever promising:
“This hand will be your ticket out”
He relays his wagered truth,
with a baton of shattered tears
But time recovers,
the present firing upon the night
Hitting it at last dead center,
the debris now quicksand
Drowning the last excuse
of your bloodless past refusals
Salvation now in full retreat,
—all exits thrice denied
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Woodsmen Day ( Poem)
Sport using handsaws
With a toothed edge blade
One or two handed sawing
On a woodsmen fair day
Traditional log rolling
Is a lumberjacks technique
Style used in river driving
The illustration is unique
Springboard tree is branchless
With live action you can’t beat
Platform board is dangerous
A risk if you compete
Block ax chopping
Is a loggers sport indeed
Hard on your back swinging
Be careful of your feet
Woodsmen day activities
Is part of the fair you see
I bring it all to my channel
Cause that’s the place to be
By: Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme2
Farmer Dan, was a gambling man, who loved to play at some cards;
So to beat the band, he tried his hand, at the other farm yards.
On one day, he struck pay day, at the home of good farmer Dow,
And walked away, with some hay, plus a seven foot tall beef cow.
Dan looked so small, beside his large haul, as they sauntered back home;
But above all, Dan was feeling tall, and called his new cow, Gnome.
Dan had the urge, to try and scourge, more farmers for some winnings,
And if he surged, he’d go splurge, with pockets that would be brimming.
His plan worked, as he clean and jerked, all kinds of swag from his friends;
Yet they were irked, and went berserk, wanting Dan to make amends.
So farmer Dow, wiped his wet brow, and sought one last game from Dan;
Though he kowtowed, he couldn’t wow, the farmers to join his plan.
Dow demanded, a game two handed, to settle up the score,
Plus he planned, to wager his land, for Gnome and quite a bit more.
Each was praying, because to stay in, they had to raise the stakes.
It goes without saying, they were playing, for more than just ‘High Steaks’.
Taimoor Ling
He was the bravest the strongest of all
He was the greatest and ruthless of all
He never failed nor feared the death
And the whole world followed his call
Not a tear came from his eye
When he saw so many die
He had no heart but just a stone
And yet he fought with heart alone
Every castle, every wall, every vessel
Before him fell
And his tale anyone can tell
Without any hassle
He ruled like a King
And lived like a beggar
He was Taimoor Ling
The two handed fighter
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