Toxic darts unveil,
Dominating land is mine
Greed is on the line.
I was awed by the noise..As breath indrawn.? Of mighty
Giants in unseen form..' immediatly after grew the
Vivid lemon walls..towering ramparts a firestorm! fissures
Of red, glints of blue..With a marching noise a crecendo
That grew..Then the road before us began to move as
All types of creatures; as if in a torrent flew.' Snakes and goannas rats and mice, wallabys you name it? All in a trice! no
Animal lingered! or fought with another' they were escaping
From the powerfull flames that smotherd..The octane roar drowned
Your senses alright..!! Sugar cane fields ablaze at night.!!
I'll always remember the workers nearby with machtes at their
Smoko's and that lurid sky.'
How shall we get there? Mr. Snowman asked his wife.
She knew everything; she had not led a sheltered life.
We shall find a candy cane, it will take us to him she said.
They finally found one that was willing, all white and red.
Hop aboard! Invited the willing candy cane taxi cab.
She held still for them on a pinecone cement slab.
Santa’s Village please, Mrs. Snowman told their Uber ride.
She whisked them up and away in a swoop and a glide.
They passed igloos and the Eskimos came out and waved.
They passed a polar bear who had been deliciously caved.
They arrived at Santa Village in record time.
It’s Christmas said their Uber. She would not take a dime.
Trustworthy cane, beside me rests so near,
A steadfast friend, in every weather clear.
Through rain or shine, it lights my way,
A loyal guide, night and day.
In corners sometimes it may reside,
Forgotten when life's tides collide.
Yet, with a stare, its help it extends,
A true reminder of a faithful friend.
From birth's first breath, we learned to crawl,
Exploring places, both big and small.
Now in old age, a different grace we glean,
Walking with a cane, hope's newfound scene.
In your polished wood or metallic frame, a history resides,
A witness to moments where life collides.
Lean on you I may, but stand tall I do,
For you are the friend that helps me push through.
Embracing change, we stride hand in hand,
Traversing the landscapes of shifting sand.
Oh, walking cane, you're more than a prop,
You're a symbol of strength, never to stop.
I take this cane with me
everywhere I go
It travels with me
from bike path to the open road
With my knife I add a notch
at each milestone
It is quite adorned now
for ways of only I would know
My cane knows that I travel
with the sorrowful blues
I strum it like a guitar
and belt out some notes, a few
You could say this walking cane
define me
But I say it's my friend
from what I can see
As for the notches...
they are my angels and my demons
speaking to my walking cane
over all the past seasons
Sunday, May 7, 2023
Poem inspired by Joe Bonamassa's song Notches
One man.
Treading the streets of his city,
large black overcoat blending into the night,
pipe bowl softly glowing red against the dark,
cane sharply clacking aginst the cobbles.
Suddenly an owl sweeps by,
white wings flashing softly,
quietly hooting.
One man,
one street,
one bird,
one night.
Cheater Peter
Haiku
An old man
trying to cheat on his wife
Hit with a cane
(parents smacking their children became illegal in Wales, UK, on 21 Mar 2022)
They now say they will send me to that hell,
where dark ones do await me, and of course
will assail me with insults and more; then
I might bleed, and cause my sore head to writhe.
Yes, dear son, they said, such fate awaits you.
Be good, they say, and earn our tolerance,
it may smile, pledge its righteous heart, greet you.
Belt or palm is not permitted here now.
Our home is kind, and words are kind, for we
are parents who treat their own so sweetly.
(posted 21 Mar 2022)
Why write, if only to please the masses?
Are you an addict for comments only
from positive-prone classes?
Must everything be, oh Lord, so
uplifting?
Life, as we know it, can be harsh and
most twisting!
Allow each poet complete freedom
to express their souls.
I do mean freedom, no limits, should
be our goal.
No repressive-mass antics, against
anyone’s semantics.
Be they too religious, you please refrain
from rude antics.
No man or woman here is a Big Hero
for speaking their truth.
That should be for any poet, normal,
and a given, forsooth!
When you reply, it shows you have
a poet’s true heart.
But do not become a replier only!
Tis then you lost a true poet’s art.
Christmas Day is almost here.
Write, do write poetry and be so effusive,
Part two, on spreading your Christmas
to all the best of cheer!
12-20-2021
12/20/2021
Welcome and be careful of the Candy Cane Walkway the Jester said.
Josh blinked his eyes twice, thinking he was hallucinating in his head.
Seriously, it’s the only way to her house, Jester said with a laugh.
If you want to date the Candy Cane Queen, you’ll follow the path.
The candy cane queen was marvelous, beautiful and sweet.
And a smitten Josh wanted to date her, because she could not be beat.
So, he followed the Cane Walkway, expecting the ultimate best.
The queen watched him step carefully knowing he’d passed the test.
Candy cane collector cooks confections
Accepting others' ideas with affections
Revising and rewriting recipes regularly
Creating candy concoctions creatively
He is our baker the neighborhood said
All the December candy he made in red
March candies were green clover shaped
Super hero cookies were aptly caped
What started out as a Christmas thing
Ended up as a profession with extra zing
Hey my brave poetry sis from across the pond,
We don’t comment too often but we have a,
Common bond,
Our Greek blood is what makes us fighters,
We will forever be avid poetry writers,
You are in my thoughts every single day,
And I do stay still sometimes so that I
Can pray,
I hope you listen to the medical staff and
Every Doctor,
I’m sure you keep them amused, remind them
You are only a lodger,
That you are looking forward to going
Back home,
Where you can do as you like in your very
Own zone,
First eat well and carefully do your exercises,
This will definitely be good and energize
You,
I know that you had and have a great deal
Of pain,
You might in the first couple of weeks have to
Use a cane,
Paint it a bright red, azure blue or a candy
Floss pink,
And remember us all for you must know, that we
Think
Of you and wish you the best, a speedy recovery
My dear friend,
I would hope that you will leave pretty soon,
And that you are on the mend,
Love you dear sis,
With hugs and a kiss.
I was born blind
I know not my front or behind
I see none beyond my brows
My fantoms only heven knows.
Beauty a mere figment to me
For love i ponder what it can be.
I heard hope is like sunrise in dawn
In sheer darkness the light is born
But am awaken when the cock crows
For rays merely braize my empty brows
Foiling endevor to illuminate my sight
But the curse i bare an infinite plight.
Save your sorrow im blind for good
I have a vision too rarely understood
Paint my picture by words you say
Map my future by the love you pay
Yes you can
You can be the honest haft to my cane
#poyetik
I’m turning in eternity
For a pair of comfortable shoes
And a nice hot cuppa tea
I’m turning in my grave
For a black suit, top hat and cane
To join the dance of the unsaved
I’m turning in my tomb
For a room with a view
And breakfast in bed for the dead
I’m turning in my mind
For reasons there to find
To make sense of this rhyme…
I’m turning in my brain
To find out if I’m mad
For all that is insane
I’m turning in my dreams
Of butterflies and moon beams
To see all that seams
I’m turning in my right to die
To go with what’s left of my life
To experience the ride
I’m turning in my dancing
For what chance may be
A flight of fancy
I’m turning in my badge and gun now
I don’t want to play sheriff anymore
For this one-horse town
I’m turning in this rhyme
That haunts me from time to time
Maybe I’ll get two bits for it or a dime
Cane Creek Cutie
Limerick
by: Tom
2004
Her nickname was the Cane Creek Cutie,
She had it all, a real honey blonde beauty.
She was always draggin,
Her little red waggin,
But at times this cutie could be snooty.
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