YOU RAN FAST AND FURIOUS NO OTHER LIKE YOU
MAN I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR ALMOST 20 YEARS
JUST TO GET MOTIVATED ENOUGH TO SHUFFLE BACK
HOME INTO THE ARMS OF THE WRIGLEY'S AND
BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE SOX ALL I KNOW A CUB
WOULD BE PROUD TO STAND BEHIND YOU UNLIKE
THE CHEESE HEADER WHO BOW DOWN TO YOUR NEVER
ENDING FLOW KNOWING YOU'RE GONE THEY DON'T
EVEN TRY NO MORE SURE THE DOLPHINS SWIM FREE
BUT THEY BATLLE THE BUCS ON ONE KNEE
TAKE ME TO THE BALL GAME OF HALL OF FAME
A PLACE WHERE I CAN ALWAYS READ YOUR NAME
WRITTEN BY MRS. YOLANDA NICHOLSEN 5-14 -2004
2910 PROVIDENCE STREET FORT MYERS FLORIDA
RECOVERING FROM A TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY
My name is Walter Frankenstein.
You might know Victor, my famous brother.
He was born under different sign,
though we came from the same mother.
I told him so many times before,
he should've stayed with the family store.
Loud voices
with their measure
No longer
deem to care
Our information feed
corrupt
With broadcast
millionaires
Stars masquerade
as journalists
To pander, slant
and spin
Truth to fester
in their swamp
And sink
— but never swim
(Dreamsleep: December, 2025)
Mr. Potato
a.k.a., Spud Murphy
'I'll have another cigarette,'
as John Lennon (1940 – 1980) writ,
'And curse Sir Walter Raleigh (1552 – 1618)
he was such a stupid git.'
However,
(altho' to his cost)
it may have
gone to his head
(which, unluckily, later he lost),
Raleigh introduced
the noble potato
(the blight of Ireland)
into Britain — ca. 1586,
and what's more
tobacco it did eclipse,
so yes indeed, his is the face
that launched a thousand chips.
She stares into the casket
open, not what he wanted,
but she did, even more now.
“Stiffer than he’s ever been.”
she snickered, silent, unheard.
“O M F G thirty years;
look at you in your blazer
and that idiotic badge;”
she toasted, raising a glass
of cola and single malt
discovered upon finding
the “mislaid” Tantalus key.
“I bet you’ll never guess where
your model steam engine is?”
She whispered into his ear,
“Oh, once more into the breach,”
she laughed and knowingly winked.
“Nothing to say, no repost?”
“Not a cutting, hurtful quip?”
“you’re dead, you say. Can’t answer.”
“I was dead for thirty years!”
The US President is everywhere and everything, it seems
At least he is, in his Walter Mitty-like dreams
Racing to Ground Zero the very next day
Just as false as his appointment to the US Naval Academy
The great man saw the bridge in Pittsburgh collapse
Since he wasn't there, it must have been on his app
Said he was born where his grandpa died in Baltimore
Though Joe was born in Pennsylvania, if you're keeping score
Claimed to be an activist in the civil rights movement in the sixties
Well, he WAS a lifeguard at a segregated pool down in Dixie
Bragged that he cut the Federal Deficit by $1.7 trillion
As it actually increased by $10 trillion, that's almost a zillion!
And, of course, he taught 'Political Theory' for four years at the U. of Penn
Just like he was right there with Daniel in the Lions' den...
I'd like to see old Giapetto create a 'Pinocchio-Joe Biden' puppet
With a twelve-foot long carrot for a nose to stuff it
Walter Cronkite,
Waxed erudite.
For fifty-six years he reported the news,
Trusted and revered for his truthful views.
After Walter von der Vogelweide's poem to be translated as I sat upon a stone
My mind from worldly cares once lost
elbow on knee, hand to cheek, legs crossed,
i sat upon a seat of stone
thankful with thoughts to be alone.
and contemplate, now free from strife,
whate’er gives meaning to this life.
I saw, uplifted by strange wings
that life combines naught but three things
one so-called honour, one worldly wealth,
one given by God, soul-blessing health.
Honour and wealth in conflict toss
unless God's blessing heal their loss.
Thus violence roams from town to town
And men shed blood to own the crown.
As life's three parts ne'er share one space
Unfamed or poor Iet’s choose God's grace.
Nigeria has a wild Walter!
A horse to hold by the halter
And drag to a Yoke-Breaking Altar;
Priests to hopefully alter
What The Devil about him did utter:
The Spirit Denizens of their water,
From there pounding him in a mortar …
Nigeria’s Euphoric Walter
Who fully kisses his daughters
And only last week a Hotel Porter’s
Just to celebrate a peppery otter
Which at first had forced out a mutter …
Always like this with Lost Walter
Known to often in Spirit falter
And along walked streets totter.
Was he too shallow to swim in deep water?
A splendid actor was the late Walter Brennan.
There were so many movies and television shows he was in.
One of his characters I would particularly enjoy:
That was when he played grandpa Amos McCoy.
So Trump checked in to Walter Reed
And asked them for a cure for greed
They said, "Crystal Meth -
Or you could choose death -
But Fort Knox is where we keep seed!"
THE BIG TRAIN
IS A COMING.
HE'S STEAMING
IN TOWARDS TOWN.
ONE THING IS
FOR CERTAIN.
HE'LL MOW
SOME BATTERS DOWN.
NOW WE'RE
TALKING BASEBALL.
WHEN BASEBALL
WAS THE GAME.
A LEGENDARY
PITCHER.
WHO RESIDES
IN THE HALL OF FAME.
HE WAS SAID
TO HAVE A FASTBALL
THAT HISSED
AS IT PASSED BY.
ACCORDING TO
OLE TY COBB
AND I DON'T BELIEVE
HE'D LIE.
HE STRUCK OUT
MANY BATTERS
THE MOST OF
IN HIS TIME.
TAKE THE TIME
TO READ HIS STATS.
THEY'LL BLOW AWAY
YOUR MIND.
ONE CAN
JUST IMAGINE.
STANDING
AT THE PLATE.
THINKING YOU CAN
HIT THE PITCH.
JUST END UP
SWINGING LATE.
WHEN IT COMES
TO SHUTOUTS.
IT SURE MIGHT
CROSS YOUR MIND.
HE TIED
OR LED THE A.L.
A RECORD
SEVEN TIMES.
TALK ABOUT
HIS EARNED RUNS.
THAT NUMBER
SEEMS TO GLOW.
TWO POINT SEVENTEEN
MY FRIEND.
IN CASE
YOU DID NOT KNOW.
TALKING ABOUT
WALTER JOHNSON.
THE GREATEST
OF HIS TIME.
HIS LEGENDARY
DAYS OF PLAY
IS WHAT MAKES
BASEBALL SHINE.
06032020.
The World
The world we live in, free as it may seem
smiles at popularity, crowns fame,
mocks solitude and scorns ascetics,
worships money and dreams of good things,
of good looks, of good clothes,
professes humility and pity, while looking up at
the suns of our times, rich and famous,
who look down in turn at the pitiable
crowning them in their golden light,
the spotlight on the less-fortunate they direct, their situation they pity,
invoking the thanks of the Gods above, and the applause of the sycophants,
but cruelly, cruelly the world despises
hates, begrudges, admonishes and belittles
wisdom, and wise men,
the intellectual who sticks away from the crowd
and asks that the dreamy blanket covering the world be tossed away
is dismissed without a second thought,
and buried along with the fake news.
Twilight's Embrace
The myriad curtains of a deep red sky
embrace the edges of the promised horizon.
Peaceful lips, lost in a soft soliloquy
remember the memories of an ending dawn, his life.
The deathbed, a fitting place for a fitting end;
death beckons, but he is not scared.
Like a setting sun, slipping ever slowly
flowing into the last crevices of a linear skyline,
his eyes shut in solemn prayer,
his soul wraps itself in twilight's undying embrace.
Second Prize
Slipping Soul Sunsets into the Sea Poetry Contest, sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
Sub Categories
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