Gust of wind lashing and it's pouring down;
Storm water runs off the deserted roads.
A swift rider going from the downtown,
Bearing safely the most delicious loads
For orders, kicks his heels at the canteen.
Collecting the silver foil packs of food,
Setting directions on his mobile screen,
Reaches drop off points in a cheerful mood.
Waggles here and there like a busy bee
When will the guy return to his own flat?
May be at odd hours, but no guarantee
Serving his patrons, he always aims at.
Brings home the bacon, the Courier Boy
Assures his family a hope and joy!
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 23-07-2022
Categories:
waggles, 5th grade, food,
Form: Rhyme
Popular Mozart melodies are playing on a low loop.
Five people tense as a clinic nurse
calls us in or leaves us hanging.
I know the drill,
she’ll lead me reluctantly to the scales,
the usual sighs of ritual humiliation;
“Are you 6 foot” she inquires
looking at the chart skeptically.
I don’t tell her that for the last 10 years
I have been shrinking while my bull neck
sinks lower, torpedoed by a laptop navy.
In the Doctors examination room
I slump worry and hum.
I know I will be there for a while,
long enough for me to scribble this poem down
in a dollar store notepad.
Back home I will spell-check every other word -
my mind was on a lump in my gullet.
After much examination
the doctor declared that I have a bone in my throat
one unknown to medical science;
at first she thought it might be a chicken bone
but it waggles only when I talk
and spins when I write.
Apparently there are strings attached to it,
something is pulling at that little bone.
When x-rayed it dances a jig
as if to entertain.
I’m still waiting for a second opinion
though I must admit I am enjoying
being the unidentified voice
of my muses little pinky bone.
Categories:
waggles, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Popular Mozart melodies are playing on a low loop.
Five people tense as a clinic nurse
calls us in or leaves us hanging.
I know the drill,
she’ll lead me reluctantly to the scales,
the usual sighs of ritual humiliation;
“Are you 6 foot” she inquires
looking at the chart skeptically.
I don’t tell her that for the last 10 years
I have been shrinking while my bull neck
sinks lower, torpedoed by a laptop navy.
In the Doctors examination room
I slump worry and hum.
I know I will be there for a while,
long enough for me to scribble this poem down
in a dollar store notepad.
Back home I will spell-check every other word -
my mind was on a lump in my gullet, but it’s okay,
after much examination
the doctor declared that I have a bone in my throat
unknown to medical science;
at first she thought it might be a chicken bone
but it waggles only when I talk
and spins when I write.
Apparently there are strings attached to it,
something is pulling at that little bone.
When x-rayed it dances a jig
as if to entertain.
I’m still waiting for a second opinion
though I must admit I am enjoying
being the unidentified voice
of my muses little finger.
Categories:
waggles, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The Bowman's Shaft
Solo archer gathers mist of amour clouds, dipping venturous arrow tips in a veiled concocted potion, drowning its mettle in a whimsical bliss of a dreamt liquefied mirage that defines the elixir,
Cupids errant arrow is liberated openly o'er the arc of a rainbow, exuberantly hunting its e'er sought Terra, whereto, it scarcely flutters passed feathered twain turtledoves,
Trifle off-track as projected, titillating a canine whose tail waggles unceasingly as its tongue laps remarkable welcoming faces,
Then piercingly redefines a right-angle course, that mids passionately, a well-managed bramble with shoots flowering in vivid red velvets,
Calculably sailing o'er gray-haired couple, whose one hand hugging canes and their free hands locking each other,
Promised target a fused-kissed envelope proffering treasured eloquence of, Missing You, in numerous expressions, introducing assorted confidences perceived by yearning intrepid bluish eyes whose heart grows e'er fonder.
2019 November 04
*2nd Place*
Metaphor of Love
~~Bobby May
Categories:
waggles, i love you, i
Form: Free verse
Oh, this bountiful earth,
Rife with women who primp,
In mirrors reflected
With brushes, mascara,
Wielding care, dressing up,
Curved cornucopia
Of lovely attraction,
Displayed on warm evenings
Ingrid sashays down the street,
A banquet from head to her feet:
Male heads turn and gape
At her luscious shape
And how she waggles her seat—
Eyes feast
On her bosom
And feminine waistline,
Lips stammer thanks for this bounty
On earth.
November 16, 2017
Cornucopia Poetry Contest,
Kim Rodrigues, Sponsor
Categories:
waggles, beauty, thanks, women,
Form: I do not know?
Rustling leaves whispers something
Grasses on the ground kiss my foot
The cool breeze hastens the buds to bloom
Buds adore it and bloom earlier
Flowers shake their heads,smile blissfully,
Spread fragrances to gather my attention
The mango tree vigorously waggles branches,
tries to shower the ripened mango fruits
Seem they are all happy about one thing
. My visit to the old home garden
Categories:
waggles, beautiful,
Form: Free verse
(Kyrielle Sonnet)*
I coax him with my baby talk,
then he begins his fishy walk.
He wiggles and waggles his tail,
he flutters his fins without fail.
His coat of blue, purple and green
flashes and shimmers a vivid sheen.
You can tell he's a normal male,
he flutters his fins without fail.
He waits until I walk away
to forage for his food today.
While spewing bubbles in his trail,
he flutters his fins without fail.
I coax him with my baby talk,
he flutters his fins without fail.
*Samu, a pet Japanese Beta fish, lived three (3) years,
which, according to the pet store owner, was a record.
My theory: With all living creatures, love works wonders.
And love, as always, is expressed in many ways. Unable
to hold him, physically pet him, I communicated my love
to him in words, to which he responded physically.
Categories:
waggles, fish, food, love, words,
Form: Sonnet
home, when can i be with you?
laughter around a room..
familiar faces doesn't leave any doom..
under the dusk of moon..
i will be there soon..
scents of fresh buds and dews .
it beckons memories many not few..
walking circles with my shoes
shifting melodies in cues...
in the little kitchen
i saw mama in big mittens
holding viands and flans
exaggerating any bounded plans...
outside, lots of puppies
running jumping with glee..
some waggles their tail
some hounding in frail..
deepening outside..
old faces side by side..
all they are what a sight..
they'll be glad im on cite..
missing home; missing home..
my heart warms just thinking its soon...
Categories:
waggles, desire, home, life,
Form: Ballad
His squarish jaw, waggles when he thinks,
holding his fingers entwined at his waist.
He stares past his silvery frame, sinks
into mind, until I break in and say hi.
His thin silvery hair, is plush with curls at neck.
He stoops over as if time has weighed in
I see him counting, saying what the heck
here’s a bird, a butterfly, noisy squirrels.
His hands have a pain in them, all webbed
inside, pulling muscles taut, but they wave
they stroke the air, my legs, the seas ebbed
the sand, the sky, building the future in mind.
And when he picks up his violin mistress,
he dances her, never still this man of mine.
His harmonica hoots the day’s stresses,
digging out his soul, bending him like grass.
Sometimes I have to silence his motions,
hold him close to heart, let him sleep.
But always he plays out his commotion
making me music, making him mine.
Categories:
waggles, body, husband, men, music,
Form: Quatrain
PAL
Pal was all waggles and wiggles loved to wrestle
He could jump his backyard fence so easily
To play with the children who loved him
Perhaps the love given on both sides that summer was enough
Perhaps I could forgive myself someday
For calling Pal across the busy street to play
But could I ever forget the thump
Pal skidding his nose
along the hot pitch street
whining desperately
Perhaps the love given on both sides would be enough
Perhaps that love would be enough for one dog’s life
Categories:
waggles, animals, love,
Form: Free verse
The ABC’s of “Memawship”
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
Adore angels.
Bring blessings.
Carry cuddles.
Deliver delights.
Enjoy embraces.
Find funny faces.
Give giggles.
Hug happily.
Invigorate imagination.
Jubilate jiggles.
Keep Kisses.
Love Laughing.
Mentor merrily.
Note nonsense.
Ogle oodles
Pick posies.
Quilt quilts.
Rear righteously.
Send something.
Tote tons of toys.
Uplift uproariously.
Voice victoriously
Wiggle waggles.
X O X O X O X
Yap youthfully.
Zing zealously
Categories:
waggles, family, love, work
Form: ABC
Something throttled up
DEEP inside
wiggles-waggles
hurt
crying
imploded reach
snaggles
without sight
back of the EYES
'Love Death' -
One moment ecstasy
next
this stupid analysis like
She?
OH!
SHE!
Purrrfection!
but then
such birdlegs
(Coo you idiot COO!)
"I've so much love to give
OH!
BOO HOO!"
Categories:
waggles, life, love
Form: Free verse