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Best Poems Written by Tom Arnone

Below are the all-time best Tom Arnone poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Mary and Frank

Mary Godwin -- soon to be Shelley --
Writing with Percy, Byron and Polidori
To create the scariest horror story,
Gave life to a monster of immortal glory.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016



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Wet Moon

Sagan grins from a Pale Blue Dot
As LCROSS finds water in Cabeus.
Is Su Shih's bright moon finally told --
Echoed by Dickinson's moon of gold?

Did Armstrong sit in contemplation
O'er cheesy man-in-the-moon inspiration
By Yeats, Coleridge, Thomas (Dylan) and Shelley;
Li Po, Longfellow, Whitman and Lindsay?

Under Moore's young moon of May we're planting
Bamboo groves in moonbeams slanting.
Moonrise to moonset, across dead rivers --
Elvis and Emily share moon-rock shivers.

To Sandburg's moon of harvest silver,
Wells used Cavorite (but just a sliver).
Now, listen as the Selonites motion --
Whispering of Earth and its teeming blue ocean.

While I, wild moon-child, begin to spool
By the light of Merritt's Lovecraftian Pool:
"Moon-water shall be the death of me
This year."

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

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The Visit

Go ahead, you freaking coward, I thought. You drove all this way, with your new 6" GPS. Now you’re a bowl of jello who can't ring a bell? I took a deep breath and pushed the buzzer ... nothing. I knocked, softly. The door opened, slowly....

"Joey Sliwa?" a voice said.

It felt good to be recognized after thirty-five years. "Yes, Lana?" I said, smiling, questioning. A touch on the arm and an awkward hug. She led me into a medium-sized living room with two, white-as-snow Shih Tzu puppies.

Sitting on a plush, microfiber couch with coffee and a baker's box of pastries. I was so drawn to this woman, I had to force myself to move away.... The dogs sat up. Their attentive stares were ... disconcerting.

"I can't believe I'm here," I said. "I never would have come without calling -- but, your number was disconnected and you stopped communicating on your Facebook page."

"I'm flattered you were so concerned. You do know I have MS, right?"

"Yes, of course. I figured it might be something like that. I guess ... I wanted to see you one last time before I dropped dead," I said, with a half-smile. Our fingers touched and, yes, there were sparks.

"How are your kids doing," I inquired.

"Both grown and out of the house. They're always badgering me to come live with them." She seemed lost in thought ... for a moment.

"And, Bob. You never told me. What happened to Bob?"

"I don't want to talk about him," she said. "He was abusive and a terrible father. That's all I'm going to say -- for now."

I moved closer and put my arm around her. She didn't pull away. "Lana, you don't have to explain anything. I'm here to visit my old friend, who I love very much." There were tears in her eyes.

"You know, Joey, we can never be," she said.

The Shih Tzus' white-as-snow fur was no longer so white. I felt a pain, and I was frozen in place.

"Joey. What's wrong? Can I help you?" I heard her speak.

"Can I help you? Sir, do you need help?" The voice of a young man. "Dina, call 911."

I opened my eyes. My arm was outstretched, trying to press the buzzer. There were people around me who I didn't recognize. "I was looking for Lana," I stuttered. "Lana White?" The good-looking kid with the Burt Reynold's moustache took notice when I repeated her name.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Joey Sliwa. I was friends with your mother many years ago. We recently connected again on Facebook," I said. "And, you're her son, Daniel. I saw pictures." I felt a tightening in my chest.

"My sister called for help. They'll be here, shortly," said, Daniel. He ran back into the house. There were neighbors gathered around.

A teenage girl who was listening to the conversation sat next to me. "Lana passed away three months ago. It was in all the papers. And, it was a week before her body was discovered. They found Goo and Princess eating parts of her body. It was just too horrible," she said.

One of the neighbors screamed at her: "Gigi, get the hell out of here. You're father's going to hear about this. This man is in no condition to hear that shit!" Gigi quickly left my side.

The ambulance arrived and they lifted me onto the stretcher. The last face I saw was Lana's daughter, Dina. It was uncanny the resemblance to her mother. I felt light-headed from the oxygen. The cold ambulance air-conditioning made me think of brisk autumn winds. I knew, if I closed my eyes now, I would be back in the living room with Lana. So, I did close my eyes, for the last time....

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

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Autumn-Brown

They call this condition, September blind.
Secret eyes peek from silky autumn-brown.
On lifting wisps of wind, her scent does find --
A head adorned with thorny, lovelorn crown.

In the warming wet; in our blissful smiles;
On banana-bikes; on mossy-rock shores --
Our union dropped by circumstantial trials
That divide one love into distant doors.

In space-time loops I will search forever --
And, once again, until that plain I find.
From nebulous clouds to Heaven's lever.
I sense her ... so near -- but, I cannot bind!

In-between two 'verses she lives and dies.
How does one cross those parallel skies?

September 1, 2016
English Sonnet 3 - Poetry Contest

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

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April's Babbling Foolishness

(Created using the bAbBlE sentence generator, various text excerpts, and a minuscule bit of human editing.) 

And she smells good without keeping all ...

Beef, sitting lonely on that lies floating on the tufted floor. "Surely," I was napping, cold noodles, I implore!

But the Raven, "Nevermore."

Deep into that darkness peering, I got enough trouble.

Boy, the whole world together. Eagerly I guess dirt is what thy worldly name is on the tufted floor.

Taken from the night thinking. Eagerly I sat engaged in guessing, when, I'm supposed to spend the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose foot-falls tinkled on the floor; And my soul grew stronger; hesitating then he fluttered - Till the dirges of evil! - prophet still, hot noodles with seeing bird above my heart be still is there balm in Gilead? - here I scarcely more than muttered, sitting lonely on that placid bust, chicken guts!

Beef, while I pondered, shrimp with garlic sauce, and the silken, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; hesitating then no longer, "Nevermore."

Beef, yet all undaunted, nearly napping, and sour chicken, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to take out, "Though thy crest be shorn and mighty truck load of prehistoric swamp mud! Take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, lemon chicken with fantastic terrors never felt before. Then the bird said, beef with fantastic terrors never felt before; But the morrow he will leave me burning, curry sauce, crispy noodles, all my soul within me burning, roast pork, pepper steak and sour combination, "Nevermore."

But the Raven, "Or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore!" Quoth the morrow; - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber of flea-bitten bug ridden throng of flatulent sewage! - prophet still, if bird or white rice, chicken guts! Take out, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burnt into my bosom's core; This and more I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burnt into my bosom's core; This and more I sat engaged in guessing, curry beef lo mein, shrimp egg foo young, roast pork with my head at my chamber of contaminated cigar butts!

The Raven, "Nevermore."

Beef with broccoli and nothing more.

"Prophet!" said I, "Tapping at my chamber of pureed monkey mucus! - prophet still, if bird or steamed dumplings, stir fried rice noodles, beef with chili sauce, fried or steamed white rice, perfumed from an erratic horde of his Hope that melancholy burden bore - Till I said, Doubtless," said I, "Sir," said I, "Art sure I heard a tapping, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of septic frog water!"

Beef with many quaint and mighty dipstick of Pallas just above my chamber door, "Nevermore."

Beef Szechuan style, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the only word, anniversaries, roast pork with onions and spicy beef egg foo young, all the seeming of seething pus! By that Heaven that bends above his chamber of soggy camel snot!

Ah, Bar-B-Q pork with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now to take out my heart be still the beating of my heart be still a moment, and nothing more!

Beef with sorrow for the lost Lenore! Quoth the floor; And his eyes have flown before - On this home by Horror haunted - tell me see, then, shrimp lo mein, boneless chicken almond cookies, chicken, chicken egg foo young, vegetable chow fun, "Nevermore."

The Raven, "Lenore?" Merely this and nothing more!

Beef lo mein, free delivery within 4 blocks, I implore; But the fact is I was napping, hot spicy beef fried rice, open 8 days, suddenly there came a blasphemous sliver of steaming monkey meat!

Then, pork fried rice, weak and mighty stack of my heart, and mighty bowl of rotten bear whiz!

This I flung the shutter, catering for free delivery, weak and mighty repository of the countenance it wore, shrimp, shrimp, with garlic sauce, fearing, Doubting, Buddhist delight, I stood there wondering, beef with my head at my chamber door - This is it and tomato, beef, That one gently rapping, crispy noodles, roast pork, eggplant with my head at ease reclining On the fact is I was napping, calamari with broccoli, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered - not a schizophrenic cask of mealy verbal diarrhea!

Beef with many a flirt and mighty crust of repugnant disk failures!

Ah, nevermore!

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to take out that now burnt into my bosom's core; And my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, crispy shrimp, I implore - Is there - is there balm in beer batter, sitting lonely on this desert land enchanted - On the morrow he hath sent, Bar-B-Q beef, while I pondered, General Tso's chicken guts!

Beef, "Nevermore."

Startled at the house specialties, "Thing of evil! - prophet still, Singapore rice, my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the angels name Lenore - Clasp a cow. Not the ducks and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore - Tell this is some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast delivery within 6 days, Nevermore."

"Thing of evil! - prophet still the beating of forgotten lore - While I nodded, nearly napping, and chicken, chicken wings, run, with my chamber door!

"Nevermore."

Jane said, "Here he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered, Sir," said I, funny, Though thy crest be shorn and shrimp with me truly, shrimp with this and sour soup with mien of lord or steamed white rice or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Jane and tomato, perched above my bosom's core; This and vegetable chow fun, look, I muttered, Jane, I muttered, "Mother."

Beef, "Nevermore."

You - here, all the shutter, dropping her underwear now burnt into the chamber turning her dress.

Colors may be paid by that God we have sent, consult your receipt. There balm in Gilead? - tell me, feeling the door - Perched upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door.

"Get thee back through him."

She knew that way she was watching her flesh. There spoken was unbroken, $111.

Then, what thereat is not the Beatles.

Quoth the grave and stern decorum of the angels name Lenore. Quoth the whole lobster with broccoli, Dynasty delight, all the night thinking.

He was in beer batter, By the ushers watch me up was sure gets complicated. They like parking your gum on the floor; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the stuff in the other kids are a man. They like you came rapping, truly your forgiveness I wish he'd hurry up snappy answers for evermore.

Copyright © 1994 Tom Arnone & bAbBlE (computer writing program)

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016



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Water of Life

What difference to me
Is the source of the pain,
From an ancient salt ocean
Or a pool of spring rain.

The clever deceptions
Of color, grace and form
Veil the singular predations
Of a savage, feeding swarm.

From deadly microbe
To frenzied piranha,
Shocking my tingler to
The Great White Flick O' Rama.

The water of life shall be
The death of me this year.
Coincidentally, it is ice that soothes
My puffy, red jellyfish tears.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

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A Purple People Poem

Retro thrusters, smokey hot,
Thunder in the dim of night.
Sprouting things all green and broke,
Mutant brains are taking flight.

Mole like beasts with huge blind eyes
Push and pour from glowing holes.
Corpses scream with undead cries.
Gelatinous blobs expand with souls.

Bodies flail in polka-dot bikinis
While death rays rip through flesh and bone.
Heady cyborgs sip oily martinis
With metallic olives that chirp and groan.

Curious apparitions haunt vampiric covens
Of werewolves and werecats without revulsions.
Scientists (most mad) create life in lab ovens
In the midst of their monstrous id compulsions.

But the worst and most horrific to face
Are those poetry spouting people beaters,
Cannibalistic abominations from outer space:
The shunned and reviled Purple People Eaters.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

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Fish Butt

Basking on the sun-lit ice.
Walrus mumble filled with hype.
Today I haven't a thing to do
(that's nice)
But fish, butt-wipe, butt you.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

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500 Days

When first I swayed her eyes a perfect round,
With hair that fell so circular and dark.
Spherical girl -- not rotund or fat-bound,
With curves that flow in wide expanse of arc.

By dawn the night does wane to working day.
With awe I fill her every need profound -- 
A pup to fetch and run the word, obey.
My Summer's smile augments a love unbound.

Yet, smiles are few and eyes a glazing dim.
No touch returned for softly warm caress.
I beg her, please, recount my every sin:
"Nothing," says she, a wisp so vaporous.

Summer left a tasteless void of season;
Autumn blows a gust of destined reason....

September 19, 2016
Movie Mania - Romance - Poetry Contest 
Inspired by the romantic comedy,
500 Days of Summer (2009)

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

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What is Masculine

What is masculine? If you ask me:
It's perpetual drive and momentum;
And, you don't have to be a he or a she;
Testosterone and sweaty invention;

It's perpetual drive and momentum:
Lending a helping hand, uninvited;
Testosterone and sweaty invention;
Aggressive, agile and sharp-sighted;

Lending a helping hand, uninvited:
Protecting the weak and handicapped;
Aggressive, agile and sharp-sighted;
Loyalty, honesty and the will to adapt;

Protecting the weak and handicapped:
To be strong and gentle and uncruel;
Loyalty, honesty and the will to adapt;
To love with the passion of rocket fuel;

To be strong and gentle and uncruel;
And, you don't have to be a he or a she
To love with the passion of rocket fuel.
What is masculine? If you ask me....

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

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