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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
Singing on the moonlight road
Lies a virtuous heartfelt star.
An emblem that bodes no code
Of masks that may go too far
Strumming on the moonlight road
Lies a spirit of such tender,
Accepting one as a church mode
Rather than a soul of blunder.
Walking on the moonlight road
Lies a friend of no mind game
Showing up here with an ode
A toast to you bearing a Name.
The Name I’m referring to
Is not a name of some brand
Nor a name of the good few
Yet a name of a helping hand so grand!
The Name I’m referring to
Is a veteran of hope
Veteran of an ardent hue,
Yet no veteran of a slope
Therefore, a wise friend is here
To leave you a short message
A message with no damage
That we appreciate your care
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2023
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
Leaves safeguard my skin
From sun rays burning my chin.
Their death’s a hick’s sin
Green trees kiss the wild
While berries nourish the young.
‘No trees!’ means ‘No child!’
The damp air we breathe
Helps the soul to sit and read.
Dear leaves, pay some heed
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2020
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
Nickelodeon’s Ariana Grande
Sings like the delicate blossoms in May
Yet the singing bird is often heard
As the dancing diva to kiss the herd
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2020
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
I met this odd bald guy. His name's Frank
He has told jokes bout babies that sank
By the quick count of three
My bleeding ears had fleed
From his quips like skunks I call them junk
I've met this girl of gold called Chelsea
Comes all the way from the windy sea
With her silly diction
As a gag depiction
Her words call for stand up comedy
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2020
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
Thank you, coronavirus, I can’t sleep
Thank you, coronavirus, I can’t dream
Your smiles are memories I cannot sweep
Your global tours helped boost your self-esteem
Day by day my heart listens to the blues
As I can kiss, embrace and glance no more
Facebook speaks like we have a life we’ll lose
The faces of pure art unveils no more
The people I love I must refrain from
The people I think of. I can’t sense them
Look at what our rich nature has become.
Something must be done. There must be some gem
My gem will be those lullabies of joy
My gem will be those sweet songs they’ll enjoy
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2020
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
I’ve always craved for the flickering heart
The type that shivers, shimmers but shambles.
No blazing heart could have sustained that part
I wonder why the light heart breaks apart
As if it has always sprained its ankle.
I’ve always craved for the flickering heart
I wonder why the light heart must restart
From where oblivion makes its mouth mumble.
No blazing heart could have sustained that part
This golden heart always seem to outsmart
The blind, dim and the wicked that grumbles
I’ve always craved for the flickering heart
This raging heart would always top the chart
As it darts out and suddenly tumbles.
No blazing heart could have sustained that part
The glimmering heart is what I call art,
Therefore, it’s rays of light would not crumble.
I’ve always craved for the flickering heart
No blazing heart could have sustained that part
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2020
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
Dear people I’ve met once in a blue moon
My urgent message is short and simple
My ailment will come to an end quite soon
Which was impossible to rekindle
My flaws are tough for one brain to handle
I’ve never looked up to my own virtues
So I’m sure I must blow out the candle
And then I must break my parents’ curfew
Despite this, I’ve never meant to harm you
It’s just that I was born to be different
Never mind if I’m not your real nephew
You’re still in my heart. My flesh must be burnt
In conclusion, my mind will rest in peace
And my dark remains in this world shall cease
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2020
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
Here’s the man in the marching band
Fiddlin with sticks on his petty hands
Marching, marching round the street
In the middle of the glazing blazing heat.
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man. He’s in command
With a little syncopation & intonation
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man when he’s on demand
Walking in the steps of a child’s handstand
Dancing to the beat of a broken watchband
Sticks and stones might break his drums
No beat, no soul, no rhythm, no goal
Maybe one day, he’ll break his bum
Thanks to countless talented taps he stole
Here’s the man in the Marching Band
Confidence looking so high and grand
Here’s the man in the marching band
Next time he plays, the drums will be canned!
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2023
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
Kicking them around in this game
Is not something she would do.
Running away from something new
Scans a false image of her frame.
Traces of heed fit her instead.
I prefer going to what she said.
Enough imagery of the clone.
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2023
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Mark Anthony Bartolo Poem
Teaching Practice has highs and lows.
Highs smell like such strong aroma,
Lows are odours bearing no woes.
No wonder it’s no diploma.
Experience has its own drama.
Highs were blissful chapters of prose.
Lows led me to a fake coma.
Teaching Practice has highs and lows.
Received drawings of a pink rose,
Sang songs for kids’ panorama,
Obviously, the line would unclose.
Highs smell like such strong aroma.
Yet I’m pushed by my dilemma,
While I'm lightly pushed by one’s ‘blows’.
Wish there's no scream of a llama!
Lows are odours bearing no woes.
Yet, I’ve learned how each student knows
How to tell water from soma.
Wake up! There’s no need for star shows.
No wonder it’s no diploma.
Therefore, this journey’s a comma,
Rather than the end or a close.
It’s why I’m proud to tell mama:
“I love them kids. It’s cause of those,
Teaching practice has.”
Date posted: 05/04/2023
Name of Contest: Double The Fun Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2023
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