Articulate,
Becoming,
Circumnavigate,
Discerning,
Extrapolate,
Finishing,
Graduate,
Hoping,
Inaugurate,
Joking,
Karate,
Loving,
Mitigate,
Needing,
Operate,
Praying,
Quadruplicate,
Reaping,
Summate,
Trying,
Ultimate,
Vetting,
Workmate,
Xeroxing,
Zoning.
If I had to choose one above all others apart from Loving it would be extrapolate because to be able to extrapolate gives one a chance to see what is likely to happen further down the road if nothing changes.
Sometimes I get muddled
A little confused and mixed up
I come out with funny things
and make everyone crack up
My workmate spent thousands on IVF
I was explaining this one day
but my brain seemed to go absent
and I messed it up my own way
I told my friends about her
My brain was running free
I meant to say IVF
but said HIV!
A slight difference I know
but a couple of letters the same
I know I messed it up
but I made everyone laugh again.
There goes my hero, he’s ordinary,
like in the Foo Fighters song
Carries no airs or graces,
makes me feel like I belong
A family member perhaps,
even a workmate, or friend
Someone who can be trusted,
on whom I tacitly depend
There goes my hero,
out in the rain mending a fence
Standing at the back of photos
not overpowering the lens
Cleaning blocked up drains,
unafraid to pick out nits
Struggles in the charts for decades,
without any major hits
There goes my hero, she’s loving,
rears her dead sisters child
Puts the kid through college,
works nightshifts and smiles
Seeks nothing in return,
a little thank you will suffice
Salt of the earth person
that only gives solid advice
There go my heroes,
all extraordinarily mundane
Not looking for recognition
having no time to complain
I’m certainly not one of them,
comfortable on my own ground
Real heroes have stamina,
going forward round after round
Could be my hero’s Cobain
who blew out his brains
Cared damn all for money
and even less about fame
To Honor My Hero Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
07/31/22
David Bowie told us, though I haven’t seen it yet
It puts it in your mouth when it takes a cigarette *
It’s important in the kitchen
It can even have a stitch in
Most of us are hoping for as much as we can get
*
Sometimes you have less than you need
For it can run out at such speed
You cannot inspect it
You cannot collect it
But wanting some more isn’t greed
*
You cannot have this on your legs,
your face or on your toothy pegs
An idle man stands
With this on his hands
His workmate for more of it begs
*
Albert Einstein had a really good trick
It will reverse if you whizz round real quick
I spun on the spot
Just dizzy I got
Was Albert Einstein a little bit thick
*
In order to gauge it man invented clocks
Each chronograph got a decorative box
I cannot say who
Made some go cuckoo
There’s one in my kitchen, it ticks and it tocks
[* ‘Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth’, from Rock n Roll Suicide by David Bowie]
Thoughts honed to a razor’s edge
The dictionary and thesaurus be my whetstones
Set atop my stalwart quadrupedal aide
Pulverized hemlocks be my stationary cohort
A hewn cedar be cylindrical partner in rhyme
A sooty viscous slurry be my workmate
The milky sap of the arborist companion be my reviser
Time; unlimited; to be committed to sonnetifcation
Mete by minute or by days…to precompose
To choreograph the mind’s breadth of complexity
To see the inferences…laid out; covertly or overtly
Upon reaching a draft of my pre-thoughts; spelt out
To reave the uncomplicatedness from each line
Leaving nothing unprinted upon the page.
Incident Report 74399 2020
JIMMY BOOM SEMTEX
Obsessed with speed
I was that
Round the dial
Engine fecking screaming
Me racing them
Or just myself
Not ever stopping
After we collided
Something about movement
Positive insane velocity
I could drive
Surely the best
Crap limited cars
Only slowed me
Past all limits
How I grin
My workmate screams
Watch the lorry!!!
I swerve by
We speedily escape
Till the crash
Which patiently waits
To painfully end
All my fun
Floor the pedal
Skid swerve race
I refuse slowness
Pushing one litre
Risking old banger
Put me there
Behind the wheel
I'll ing drive
A man possessed
By my shadow
So much speed
Don't dare worry
For little me
Or my casualties
Eat my dust
Hear tires squeal
Smell rubber burn
There goes Jimmy
Crazy ing nutter!
Passionate to race
Open road track
Safety not included
An opponent needed
Or just myself
Again cheating death
For how long?
Living being, tell me,
What do you do? When fate comes,
With tail in the air; head foreword,
Then picks your neighbor
The classmate; workmate
Up to heights they go.
And now, left low; but capable
You do not qualify to go
Because fate full of fetish
Has made its choice;
What do you do?
I don’t want to think about it
The strain of being a parent
Of a handicapped son
I worry each day that he is alright
And that he will be happy in his life
What’s going to happen to him
When I can’t look after him anymore
But they say he will be OK
Can I trust what they say
For once a workmate said to me
You get too much given for him
He was jealous and didn’t understand
What it all meant to me
I worry the world is not kind enough
And it keeps me awake through the tears.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Always come near
when you are absent
my eyes cannot open
nose opens narrow space
fingers cannot write
You charmed my being,
workmate, my glass mart
shining in my soul
breaking my heart
come near me all times
that my being is settled
for a good luncheon
lunch that never ends
day with no setting sun
come near, come always
to shatter my heart
A summer smile stuck on my face,
as I watched a soda truck racing
across the yellow maize farm.
"What is a soda truck doing
in the countryside, far away from
shops and clubs?" my workmate asked.
He looked as though he had witnessed
the Roswell event personally.
"Something isn't right," he added.
I smiled and gazed at the truck,
as it became bigger and bigger.
Monotonous tastelessness of rain water,
would soon be replaced by a fizzy, sweet
sensation to my tastebuds.
This would be the dozenth time I tasted
soda without actually drinking it.
A crazy Boyfriend I have
one time he invited me
for birthday party.
I entered the room
but no welcome from his mouth.
Another guest came in
and sat on a chair.
To the ground
he was thrown by host.
Workmate handed over a gift
but he rejected saying;
“Today I am a baby only
a few hours old-
a complete baby in time I am.
I want to feel once again
in this crazy and boring world
a baby a few hours young.
Babies do not talk.
You come and sit on the chair!
Babies are too young
to sit on a chair.
You bring me a suit
as my birth-day gift;
babies cannot wear suits.
I wanted only babies-
babies of my age to come.
Together we want joy in silence
and tell our own stories by miming
about what we have seen
in this crazy world.
those who come should bring me
only baby things”.
She’s my new confidante
A workmate in school
Her cuddly attitude
Thought she is cool
We talk about heartbreaks
Laugh our foolishness
We think about problems
Find our happiness
We’re pretty identical
Like old best pals
We can sense everything
Feeling same like cool gals
We’ll hold it till end
Till we made it so far
We’ll be in an endless trip
Catch those little stars!