Uncommonly Poems | Examples

The First Kiss

I love all the ladies,
No matter the size.
That sultry first kiss,
Is the ultimate prize.

Walking hand in hand,
Under a silver moon.
The romance in the air,
Can make your head swoon.

The anticipation,
Of that first embrace.
Your heart beating strong,
At an incredible pace.

Till the joyous moment,
That your two lips meet.
The taste on your tongue,
Is uncommonly sweet.

With a trembling body,
And a shortness of breath.
You then make a promise,
That you'll love her to death.

This blissful caress,
You can't wait to begin.
You hate when it's over,
Until you do it again.

Skateboarding Hound

An uncommonly spry basset hound
was annoyed when his ears swept the ground
But his spirits soared
when he got a skateboard
Now he’d Doggie Olympics bound

6/8/22

Notability

Best case scenario -
my fame walking into the future,
all my failed handiworks
recognized as avant garde – well before their time.
Honor and distinction heaped-up posthumously.
An unexceptional life
discovered to have been really ‘sui generis’
uncommonly so.
Applause echoing through the ages.

Most likely outcome –
a contrived eulogy,
slightly embarrassed onlookers
searching for right words.
Shrugs.

Coffee

I was startled 
when I heard the knock on the door.
I never expect unannounced guest
way out here.
I opened the door to find him
standing there---the biggest smile on his face.
Unsure as to attribute the glow about him
to his disposition,
or the beautiful, uncommonly warm December
mourning sun.
"Come in," I said, hugging him while pulling him in,
in the same motion.
"I'm so glad to see you," I said to him, bringing him in for a quick kiss and heartier hug.
This time,
we embraced a while longer, as if
we hadn't see each other in a while, and perhaps,
wouldn't again.
"There is bad weather coming," he said. "Storm of a
Lifetime."
I released him, then walked again to the front door,
opened it, and was again greeted by the dazzling mourning sun.  I closed the door.
Looking at him, a bit puzzled, a bit amused, I said,
"But, Brother, 
there's nothing but soft, airy clouds in the sky.  No rain can come of those."
He smiled. So wide and true.
"The storm of a Lifetime is pending, Sis. And I  could 
think ONLY of riding it out HERE...with you."
He embraced me once more.
"Well, come to the kitchen and sit down," I told him.
"I will put on a fresh pot of coffee."

Gambling

At the scene of Gambling
Discreet voices
And ones rambling:
An easy riot of smell
That could sicken ' The Well '

At where cards fall,
A silencing admixture of mankind,
Whom you could foxes call.
On the eyes with tear drops
Nothing might them dry
As the heat of the heart tops
And due at last, an audible cry.

For the hands that uncommonly fold
Some finishing bomb is ticking
And they don't need to be told
what they should be picking: 

Rarely, the wins find their way to banks
All too soon blown away within their ranks.

What a gambler tells his wife
is to forget it ever happened
Or keep picturing the piercing knife
And the gash it opened.

Be Lackadaisical As Often As You Can

be lackadaisical as often as you can
lie in the grass staring into the leaves 
enjoying the float of the clouds

be imaginative 
encourage your thoughts to wander
be fiercely protective of your me time

let yourself melt into the moment
listen to the sounds of the day
let your body rest any way it wants to

be lazily relaxed
be uncommonly silent
be aware of what your soul needs

these moments cannot be replaced
and they can replenish you
energizing your bliss.
Be lackadaisical as often as you can

Be Lackadaisical As Often As You Can

be lackadaisical as often as you can
lie in the grass staring into the leaves 
enjoying the float of the clouds

be imaginative 
encourage your thoughts to wander
be fiercely protective of your me time

let yourself melt into the moment
listen to the sounds of the day
let your body rest any way it wants to

be lazily relaxed
be uncommonly silent
be aware of what your soul needs

these moments cannot be replaced
and they can replenish you
energizing your bliss.
Be lackadaisical as often as you can

Ears and Cups

Cool for late summer.
The cold leaves listen,
hang like ears
laden with rain,
but it’s not the rain that weighs,
for there’s a heaviness
in the reddening trees.
Ears and cups
but mostly ears.
In backyard hedgerows, animals
are still, unless they are disturbed,
moved on.
The leaves curl, fill with silence
and when the cups on their brown stems
tip,
more weight descends.
The trees are waiting.
The leaves are waiting.
The cool mornings gradually warming,
but not until
Micky D’s stops serving
breakfast,
not until Gas Stations
are out of regular coffee.
does the listening
pause,
the heaviness pause.
In the suburbs
landscaping crews are stiff until noon,
heads creak on brown stems
as they tend to the edges.
It is uncommonly cool.
The leaves twist and tip slowly
draining a silence,
until
two-stroke motors
are punched
or a fretful yell
cuts
then the listeners are moved on,
disturbed to another place.

The Unsaved

The Unsaved

I watch you from a distance. 
I see everything you do. 
Your life is hard, 
and the world is unkind, 
mostly, if only at times. 

I can not help, 
more than prayer, 
but do not believe that small...
at all.

For first hand, I will tell you, 
I have received;
shelter from the cold, 
food when I was hungry, 
and a coat when the winter came,
and I had to walk outside, 
among the other lost. 

I took it and put it on. 
I wear it still. 
It has every color... 
and no color at all. 
It is the acceptance of His love, 
and the honest heart to share it, 
with others...
bereft of hope, 
uncommonly out of place...
from only months or, 
days before. 

There are maps in the pockets, 
a never-ending selection ...
of creative ways back to Him. 
Every "one" different, 
special and unique...
just as the ones...
the lives they are to touch. 

You are prayed for;
not forgotten or cast aside. 
We do not have to agree, 
for that to be true...
and free.

If I Was Auntie Mame In the Movies

If I was Auntie Mame, I would be excited about everything.
Kicking up fun wherever I am invited.
Even places I’m not, but everywhere being the zing.
Bringing people together, making them united.


I would be like giant puppies, leaping into lap places,
Sure I am welcome, not aware if I am not.
Knowing they are thrilled I am licking their faces.
I would throw up my hands, and dance around the lot.

I would be insanely, gloriously, uncommonly happy.
Unaware of disapproval or disdain in any way.
Oblivious to others’ discomfort, I would be loud and snappy.
Thinking their laughter is for me, I would continue to play!

Because I am the party, I do not want anyone to sleep.
Let the party begin!  Bring out the chips and bar stools.
Take a chance, open that door, come out, and take the leap!
It is me, and if you have read the script, Auntie Mame rules!

Know How

Thankless job, I think watching
as Thurman tries to teach the young man

The lad sitting up
on the tractor
like a proud young pup
is full of piss and vinegar
half the time not listening
and half the time telling Thurman
how much he already knows...

As Thurman patiently slumps
his still-sturdy but ungainly frame
against the tractor
fingers strumming his red suspenders
a good-natured grin
slowly spreading
across his grizzled face
gleaming behind think glasses
I see a glint of soft amusement
at this grandiose greenhorn

Thurman has lived through
the Great Depression, and then
the horror of hand-combat
in World War II
one of three from his unit
to make it through-
so there is nothing this little ingrate
can possibly do or say
to break Thurman's composure today
he remains uncommonly calm
and utterly unflappable
a small chuckle slipping out
every now and then

And while the young man boasts
and blusters on about
his plans for next week
Thurman is mostly quiet, until
at length, asked about his plans
“Lord willing-
and the creek don't rise...”
he begins, knowing how
much could change by then

Ode To Trees

…ODE TO TREES…

Trees, like people...are
More than what they show...
Much, much more than
What they let us see

They’re sentient beings
In a sense we can’t know
Uncommonly communal creatures
Are the common trees

There exists a hierarchy
Just ‘neath the Earth
Where seeds, roots and Fungi
Conspire to give birth

The rulers in this kingdom
Are tall, tattered old trees
Lightning torn and torment worn
Yet wise as they can be

In their alien (to us) wisdom
They decide who lives and survives
They provide shade and sustenance
To Saplings perilous lives

They communicate with one another
By ways of pheremones
And speak to all their Arboreal sisters and brothers
In muted, deep rooted, silent tones
It’s hard to imagine them
As more than just outsize weeds
But you couldn’t live without ‘em
Since they provide your most basic need

The very air you inhale
That is so essential to your life
And without which all life would fail
Cut short by Nature’s knife

So look at trees as necessities
They provide for you  and me
And with their many awesome Autumn leaves
There is naught so beautiful on Earth (nor so worthy)

…as a time weathered tree...

Like a Big Brother

Dropped ad lib in foreign terrain
Not knowing a word of English
It was called ‘learn fast, sink or swim’

You smiled when I first looked at you
Offered to be my translator
Almost too pleased to be helpful

You came on a little too strong
I was uncommonly bashful
You somewhat a bit of a nerd

You kept watching from afar
Became my tacit comfort zone
I truly took you for granted

But honestly, what did I know
We were only kids in fifth grade



AP: 2nd place 2021

Posted on February 6, 2018

Whats In the Basement

Mommy told me never to go in the basement, but I wanted to see what was making that noise. It kind of sounded like a puppy, and I wanted to see the puppy, so I opened the basement door and tiptoed down a bit. I didn’t see a puppy, and then Mommy yanked me out of the basement and yelled at me. Mommy had never yelled at me before, and it made me sad and I cried. Then Mommy told me never to go into the basement again, and she gave me a cookie. That made me feel better, so I didn’t ask her why the boy in the basement was making noises like a puppy, or why he had no hands or feet.


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Uncommonly Special

`There’s always that one 
Who’s a wee bit different
The one who marches 
to a different drum

There’s always that person
Who seems indifferent
Not to all things in common
but is always uncommon in some

There’s always that dear one
Who cares not a whit 
If the game’s lost or won
Who seems just a bit off-base

There’s always that unique one
who seems stranded in a daze
Who oft’times seems to be gone
in their own place in space

There’s always that ‘special’ one
who’s ‘special’ as can be
And I know in that ‘special’ way
That, that someone special
...is me...

/center>

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