abracadabra I wanna grab ya
don't tell Da and don't tell Ma
a Halloween gala
a ghost town, caw-caw
abracadabra I wanna grab ya
Abracadabrabroo me Godzilla now shoo
shelling out with toothless spider-Hue
got no candy? Duh
this ain't Malibu !
Abracadabrabroo I'm Godzilla now shoo
Abracadabri got the heebie jeebies Gartzie ?
well smezzle pezzle see this old machete
gonna hack your back
cuz I got the knack
Abracadabri got the heebie jeebies Gartzie ?
Ala shazam its a bloodlet moon fricassee
everyone is shakin' I don't care, Tee hee !
served them Grinch tea
now they all have to pee
Ala shazam, its a bloodlet moon fricassee.
In Grandma's house it was always fun and gay,
It always was a sunny day,
Going through that old front door,
Grandma calling do you want some more,
Come and have a cup of tea,
Have a biscuit, no take three.
Grandpa is out by his pond.
Watching his goldfish of who he is very fond,
Auntie is there shelling peas,
And Grandma's made a cup of tea.
The Children are playing out the front,
Over in the woods there is a leopard hunt,
Uncle is watching from the step,
The coalman is due, but he's not here yet,
On Sunday Amy is due at three,
And Grandma's made a cup of tea.
Grandpa takes the dog for a walk,
Come on in Amy we can have a talk,
Come and sit down and we will light the fire,
And then we'll have a cup of tea.
In that home where we all were born,
It was always happy and never forlorn,
Now it has gone but in our minds we see,
All the family sitting and having tea.
Sand dollars covers the crusted sandy shores
after the tides roll in and back the sea turtles
scurry across tiny crabs while sea urchins lie
on their backs herons scratch their long legs
sleeping wood storks perch alongside drift wood
while the pecking egrets whistle tiny hints
of sullen chatter cunning pelicans quickly dive
for their lunch while pink flamingos wildly dances
as the colorful peacocks shows off their new hats
the shelling begins with bronzed star fish nesting
upon the calm edges of tomorrow carving deep
sand dunes watching crawling sea horses gallop
while the sun peeks in around noon sun showers
sprinkles giant rain drops creating tiny hues of private
rainbows my bicycle bell chimes nearby the boat house
calling to Joe's crab shack in time for Izzy's to serve
fresh stuffed flounder to go with the blue berry scone
from Pete's Ice cream shop while craving clam chowder
I began to whisper lyrical tropical tunes with such ease
while simply embracing this sensual soft Caribbean breeze
Brave little turtle,
Crossing the road.
Dodging traffic,
Shelling the load.
Slow and steady,
Forever hunched.
Always praying,
Never crunched.
The price of life,
Yes, you've paid it.
Now safe across,
Hurray! You made it.
My son collected baseball cards;
My brothers did, as well.
My Beatles card collection
Was the female parallel.
But there’s an opportunity
For everyone to buy –
Although it’s hard to understand
A decent reason why –
Some trading cards that feature Trump
In poses quite bizarre –
An astronaut, a cowboy
And the weirdest one so far –
A superhero with a body
So unlike Trump’s own,
It would be quite ridiculous,
But somehow it is known
That people buy them!
Shelling out, for every NFT,
Enough to question what’s become
Of each one’s sanity.
How low can one man really sink
To hawk himself this way?
It’s mortifying to confront
Such ego on display.
If I had Captain America's shield,
I would go out to Ukraine,
and protect all the innocents
helping them all the same.
I would paint the shield blue and yellow
with a sunflower in the middle
I'd hold it up to the shelling
and make their onslaught seem so little
I would take the name Captain Ukraine
to be backed by the fighting NATO
I would protect all the farmers
raising wheat and potatoes
The Russians would retreat in mass
and let freedom and liberty reign
My shield would be the symbol
of releasing all the pain
The freedom of the media
Freedom of speech and freedom of information
have now been restricted unless you watch the news
from approved channels.
I watch the news from the USA channels, from BBC
and Portuguese news; not to forget France 24.
I watched Russian TV since it carries alternative news
Take the news of Donbas, did you know the Russian
speakers tired the Ukraine army shelling has fled to
Russia, hundred thousand, by bus and rail.
This the western media keeps away from us because
we might consider Ukraine in a more sober way
The nail in the coffin of freedom of dialogue is shut.
Sitting in the snow, I look at the holes in my boots. My toes are frozen solid as I stare at the winter sun that shines against my reddened face. I have no food, no ammunition, I have nothing but death. The air is full of smoke and the horrid stench of decay, even in the dead of winter the smell permeates my nose like fire. Most of my comrades lie lifeless in pools of coagulated blood or have turned to statues of ice. We tried to retreat but the Fuhrer ordered us to fight until the last man. Stalingrad must be taken at all cost, flucht nach vorn! Sadly, the front has become the nail in our coffin. Frost fills my lungs as I hold a dried Edelweiss flower I brought from home in my burning cold hands. I hear the rusty tracks of T-34's in the distance, the shelling grows stronger now. Gazing towards the west, dreaming in crystal blue, I am on the path to great enlightenment beyond human understanding. The Edelweiss I hold blows away in the Russian wind....
And then all of a sudden I was in a mysterious world,
A woman here shelling peas, for they have no rights to be wasted
Being ignored in her shop, they were two days older
She had more of the new arrivals but then she has got the power,
that to know both the peas were same inside as how they should be
I need to take her, to a faraway land, once gone
There were these captives,begging to get their pea of the day in a camp full of illusions
And those melancholic eyes would really find what grateful is, if they happen to see her
It’s raining leaves and acorns
Contrast of sound
Silent shapes and colors drifting
Meanwhile the nuts
Shelling my roof, my deck, the air
Autumn whispers and flails her arms
No doubt now she’s arrived
She’s arrived in brisk fashion today
She’s armed and dangerous
and beautiful and clamorous,
turning bold and cold
and amorous.
Why do I say amorous?
Married couples will move from the sides
of their bed, to cuddle-pretend, igniting
fires in the center of their universe…
falling…falling…falling
in love, not minding the other
breathing down their neck,
the oceanic snore,
cold feet.
Cold feet, you say?
The flirtation of feet
will create giggles, in fact.
Only makes the heart grow fonder
in this autumnal swaddle.
If you're too young to understand,
well *bless your heart—
Go take a flying leap
into a crunchy, harvested,
wholesome pile of down…
down you go
in your innocence
make it last
because raking lasts,
as well—
you’ll find out soon enough
about aches and pains—
falling…
10/16/2021
used to express fondness; or sympathy for someone,
oft said in a covert and condescending way.
Photos of Grandmother
David J Walker
Grandmother has
become a picture
That so few of us know
Things committed to memory
Fall short
A black & white print
Is creased across
the face of the fading image
And even a perfect recall
Of the last summers eve
Shelling peas one evening
On the screened-in porch
Can’t replace all of what we thought
We knew of her
Mosquitoes were singing and
Fireflies were dancing
Kamikaze moths were the true believers
Flying into the 40-watt light
What hymn was Grandmother humming
But the picture hadn’t the slightest idea
And the answer was lost
At the cost of
Distance and time
It seems Grandmother
was a young girl once with
Her own unspoken dreams
Or so it says on the back
Of a photo found in the bottom
Of a box where she is held
captive and expressionless
at age 15
In the picture she seemed to
be waiting to
grow old
We marched two by two along
Muddied path leading to gallows
Corner, singing with voices strong ;
Full of hope as dashing callow.
Ripe to be picked and Ripe
To be plucked for we had yet
To taste the battle of snipe
And shot, splinter; bayonette.
We arrived at our trench
Paid for with the King's shilling
And breathed in the stench,
Our home for the killing
Of the Bosch a hundred
Yards in front of us.
Through the looking glass thread-
Bare suits steeled to cus!.
The shelling sprang to life
And screamed overhead
At enemy lines, and strife
Clothed them as they lay dead.
Or so we thought with shell
Of victory diminished, like lambs
To the slaughter we fell, fleeced
Of our youth, once boastful rams.
This years Halloween its a tedious task
because of the virus, we all need a mask
be safe not sorry
says the man, John Tory
keep your distance, don't drink from a flask
the children are longing to participate this I know
cover mouth and nose, and join the evening tow
demonstrate
be a template
wear a mask while shelling out get into the flow
Halloween has been a fav since I was a little waif
kids will be kids, its up to us to keep them safe
keep an eye
if asked why ?
tell them its essential, just for a period of grace.
A good little habit for all that they treasure
and its up to them if they want the pleasure
be cautious
not raucous
my children, have fun but remain in your measure.
October 15, 2020
Since you are here,
You might as well make yourself useful.
Pull up a chair and start shelling some peas for me,
I can make use of you to stack those chairs,
I could use your help today,
Are you any good at icing cakes?
Can you put that in the boot for me?
What are you doing on Monday?
Can you teach me how to do that
We are short of volunteers to visit those in hospital,
Can we borrow your ladder?
These are just some of the opportunities that have been offered to me,
How about yourself?
Remember time is running out as those doing the asking,
Are getting thinner on the ground,
And those things stuck in your ear,
Plus, that gadget in your hand is blocking the incoming invitations,
To be useful,
Before the opportunity no longer exists,
And you find yourself alone
With a receding hairline,
Poor health,
And a distinct lack of goodwill to anyone who knocks on your door,
In a last-ditch attempt to offer the milk of human kindness,
And a chance to do something useful,
Before that hope too fades forever.
No poetry in a foxhole when the shelling starts
Battle-weary soldiers contest
Well, there are no poets in a foxhole either
I was about to protest...
Rat-a-tat-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat
Grinning bullets whiz by my grimacing hat
Feel what happens to a foxhole
When a poet gets ahold of that
There's always some poetry somehow, everywhere
What if there was no poetry? -- That's simply nowhere
January 21, 2020
If there was no poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
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