some like their coffee laced with milk
and some do like it sweet
some use baristas -- know their ilk
no coffee is complete,
unless prepared to order -- you do know 'em.
And me? I take it black, and drink it with a poem
Author notes: image from hearmefolks.com
Living large is my goal
had I only the means
as befitting my role
I have all the vaccines
There's an obstacle, though
to my quotable goal
I don't make enough dough
and so have to live small
Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2802125-Two-Ls
The bow: a scepter, nay, a wizard's wand.
Each minor note a key into your heart.
Devoid of an accompanying grand,
the strumming violin plays every part.
Concerto for your soul; soon, heaven's gates
swing open, and the angel, hands on chin,
is seemingly oblivious as fates,
both innocent and guilty as all sin,
stream into paradise. Hosannas pause,
the host stunned into silence... notes play on.
A figure, shadowy, appears. His paws
still smoldering; the evening has been won.
"You miss me yet?" A question, and a vow.
No hint of modesty, he takes a bow.
Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2802073-Devils-Violinist
sterile postcards in the mail
each declaring: SALE! SALE! SALE!
hallmarks of the season
start arriving without fail
March though, is beyond the pale
without rhyme or reason!
I'm in the market for some Spotted Dick
Is there a dish with more absurd a name?
Do Ladyfingers tempt you -- there's a chick
that seized on these to gather quite a fame.
A Stinking Bishop once confessed this sin:
Bangers and Mash, deliciously prepared,
do take the cake. As long as it has been,
I still wish that the room was better aired.
A Priest Choker, a smelly, cheesy knave
Bubble and Squeak, leftovers for a time
Devils on Horseback did ride in to save
Our Limping Susan from a bitter crime
So after searching low, and searching high
I settled. Something simple. Whoopy Pie.
Author notes: all the capitalized phrases are dish names https://secretmenus.com/10-funniest-food-names/
"I heard the planet is for sale"
I asked the kind old man
"Has the work gotten a bit stale?" --
"According to my plan",
the old man said and scratched his beard
"It should be in top shape.
but things have gone a little weird.
There is this one great ape...
Let me just say, with much ado
and I don't say this lightly
I think it's time for a redo..." --
He said, then coughed politely
I thought a bit and said: "Old man,
I'll take, it warts and all.
I understand you're not a fan
and though it's not my call
new management is what they need
let's try it, one more chance
and if at first we don't succeed...
we'll try and refinance."
Transaction executed thus
I'll try and take possession
I hope this planet's worth the fuss
and there is no recession
minor keys to major happiness:
a walk on the beach
sunlight playing on the water
is there no one of my kind
no one nature has assigned
helping me to build my nest
sharing in both grief and jest?
I'll admit that certain cravings
were brought on by Daylight Savings
Author notes: image from allaboutbirds.org
the beholder's eye
finds a rose in a daisy
but with fewer thorns
frozen landscapes groan with crackles
rutting beasties raise their hackles
pollinating bees
ready for reprise
Is there a worthier or nobler cause
than setting foot upon a distant shore?
Mankind, for all its blemishes and flaws,
must widen its horizons evermore.
To lie awake and stare upon the sky
where alien constellations form and shape
unwritten myths. Moons wrestle with their tides,
each seeking to be master, way up high,
and shine through clouds that venerate and drape
the land that the horizon then divides
The very word, horizon, paradox.
A goal to strive for, and to never reach.
'twas Aristotle, standing at the docks,
and watching galleys sailing from the beach;
'twas him that understood the Earth was round,
the galleys' masts stayed visible, the clue.
Those early sailors feared the siren's song,
but celebrated when new land was found,
and knew that as their ships winked out of view
the planet would be forced to come along
And now as we start contemplating Mars
debating "is it worth it" to no end,
I rest assured the gateway to the stars
is in our future. History will bend
to those that seek discovery and awe,
as it has in the past and always will.
The star stuff that's the god in our machine
the chemistry of life, each beak and claw
survival is life's enviable skill
and seeking new horizons is built in
invisible conductor, your baton
is tracing magic symbols in my sleep
a mountain lake, the splashing of a swan
a fertile valley, shepherd with his sheep
cicadas chirping loudly in the night
the nightingales do celebrate the day
the waterfalls churn rivers with their might
a lion roaring to announce his sway
the thund'ring of a herd across the plain
the begging of a fawn for mother's breast
each moan, each sigh, each struggle to explain
a mother tells her child that she knows best
all this and more, the symphony of life
are you alone, conductor, or is there a wife?
Author notes: inspired by: Music by Bessie Rayner Parkes Sweet melody amidst the moving spheres Breaks forth, a solemn and entrancing sound, A harmony whereof the earth's green hills Give but the faintest echo; yet is there A music everywhere, and concert sweet! All birds which sing amidst the forest deep Till the flowers listen with unfolded bells; All winds that murmur over summer grass, Or curl the waves upon the pebbly shore; Chiefly all earnest human voices rais'd In charity and for the cause of truth, Mingle together in one sacred chord, And float, a grateful incense, up to God.