Christmas at its wrongest
Around masquerade-watching men mill,
All of them like church -avoiding Jill
And all over again Christmas they kill;
The venue, a valley that hates every hill,
Shadows of death, dangling its bill
And there the family of Mr Gil
Also Chooses to mill,
As yearly defender of its shameless thrill;
On this day, no half acre to till:
A family spiritually at a standstill
And ever a marketer of its sleeping pill...
At some eatery I’m still studying my bill
And in strides fire-selling Cecil
To equally order a dish and eat his fill
But masks further watch from a window with sill...
Christmas, no doubt , at its wrongest
Masquerade, not Christ, the Guest!
Categories:
wrongest, anniversary, birthday, celebration, christmas,
Form: Rhyme
Kind and loving you were to me,
you cared,
you cherished,
you understood.
For no matter what,
you were always my friend.
I got angry,
so stupidly so,
a temper was lost,
and so was a mind,
things were said,
they shouldn’t have been.
Stupid and mad,
toxic and wrong,
as ever so wrong,
as I could so be.
For all you have done,
for me so sweetly,
I owed you this not,
most certainly not,
for indeed such a fool,
I most certainly was,
to ever regard you as anything but,
a friend of such depth,
so warm and so true,
the wrongest I was,
and ever could be.
Categories:
wrongest, appreciation, emotions, feelings, friend,
Form: Free verse
Silent like a
pin drop
type....
Happy like a
lottery won
man....but,
sitted in
delima......
Spoken in
many ways
broken in
many days
swollen to so
many phases,
life they
calleth it in
experience,
death i titled
in herent....
Fate and date
are periodic,
many says...
In wit, dated
dooms
historical
names...
I found my
healer, my
story changed
i found my
provider, a
great success
Name..
With many
laws, many
are bound to
fall many
within the
perfect folks
are gigantic
wrong like
ferry, where
is good in
your good?
Every success,
a wrongest
story, every
good act,
sweet words,
modern
slavery
way....
Innocents the
heart of evil
event,
call upon
them, they
sound so
perfect that
you don't
know its
pretence,
where is your
route Sir, you
asked, my
route is rough
with a great
defect. Yet,
he survived
every effect?
Travel in your
mind, yet
you will be
limited
space.....
Categories:
wrongest, people
Form: ABC
THE LESSON
We were caught by the neighbourhood tough guys:
Him and me against six of the wrong kids to meet.
In just the wrongest darkest part of the street
Snowballs began to fly. They out-gunned us, and worse,
They shoved ice chunks into each harmless white missile.
Made it armoured and a lot less fissile
Hit your head? Painful. In the eye? Serious damage.
We ran but I could outrun him, and did so, saved my own skin
Sheltered behind door, though instinct told me it was a sin
He was alone to face the onslaught while I hid, coward.
He never said or did anything to punish me, which made me feel bad.
His forgiveness was the best sort I ever had
I was eight years old then, my lesson was easy
Felt so bad that I was never again a coward.
Pity his way of giving the lesson was so hard.
…………………………………………………………………………………….
For Audrey Carey’s contest “To err is human, to forgive divine”
Categories:
wrongest, peopleme, me,
Form: Narrative