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M/Georgia, USA
I had never written anything before 1996. I died for 7 minutes, revived by an emergency medical team I awoke to not be quite the ...
i started writing to get rid of unwanted stress, and to help forget painful memories
Poems
terrence michael sutton
Aug 2018
Wee ***** Waggles was the whitest whale
And from the day he was born he was a wiggler ~
He wiggled and waggled so very much
His friends called him ***** the wiggling jiggler~
You could always find ***** in a crowd of whales
As he would make the wildest waves as he was going~
Wilder waves than any whale could make
Most of all when he surviced to do his blowing~
Other whales loved playing with ***** Waggles
And they would swirl around in Willys waves so wildly~
Willys mother would always be watching him
As she wondered around swimming mildly~
And Wee ***** Waggles was so easy to watch
Because Wee ***** was so wonderfully white~
For Wee ***** was so wonderfully white
He could even be seen at night~
All the fish in the ocean how they loved *****
When ***** would wonder their watery way~
And they all loved Wee ***** so very much
They'd cry out "Oh ***** stay with us and play"~
Wee ***** Waggles was the whitest whale
The most popular whale in the water~
Mrs whale , Willys mum wondered just what
Would have happened if she'd had a daughter~.
Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 1988
And from the day he was born he was a wiggler ~
He wiggled and waggled so very much
His friends called him ***** the wiggling jiggler~
You could always find ***** in a crowd of whales
As he would make the wildest waves as he was going~
Wilder waves than any whale could make
Most of all when he surviced to do his blowing~
Other whales loved playing with ***** Waggles
And they would swirl around in Willys waves so wildly~
Willys mother would always be watching him
As she wondered around swimming mildly~
And Wee ***** Waggles was so easy to watch
Because Wee ***** was so wonderfully white~
For Wee ***** was so wonderfully white
He could even be seen at night~
All the fish in the ocean how they loved *****
When ***** would wonder their watery way~
And they all loved Wee ***** so very much
They'd cry out "Oh ***** stay with us and play"~
Wee ***** Waggles was the whitest whale
The most popular whale in the water~
Mrs whale , Willys mum wondered just what
Would have happened if she'd had a daughter~.
Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 1988
Heike Borgard Jun 2014
Willy the Wil-o'-the-Wisp
Heike Borgard
Jun 2014
***** the wil-'o-the-wisp sadly sat at home
for he was young and much too small
to roam the swamp alone
He wanted to be an elusive light
mysterious, misguiding and haunting the night.
„Oh swamp“ he whined „it all goes so slow
I don't want to stay home – please help me to grow!“
„Shut up, little ones, enough of that weeping“
bubbled the swamp and then started sleeping
„Oh not again“ the old tree moaned as ***** burst out in tears
and raised his branches left and right
to cover up his ears.
Meanwhile a burglar with Police had a battle
with a big bag of loot he had to skedaddle
into the swamp and lost the way.
He watched out for a guiding light
but all he found was crying *****
(wil-o'-the whisping really not bright)
„What's that?“ the burglar snidely asked
„a lousy glooming firefly?
can't even light my cigarette
get out of my way little bug“
and proceeded to pass by.
This now was too much for *****'s pride
(teenagers often freak out)
He drew himself to his fullest height
and he shouted loud:
„listen you mean and human thing – I am no dim-lit light!
Beware of the rage of an wil-o'-the wisp!“
and then he run completely wild
„Hear what I will bring to you
first death then pain and sorrow
I'll **** you first then chase you down
for you there's no more tomorrow
I'll lead you into deepest swamp to a puddle of mud
and when you start to drown in it – I'll watch you in cold blood“
(if we were picky in logic and order we surely now have to complain
but let's close an eye for he is still very young – back to the story again)
Inspite all efforts and *****'s threats
the burglar did not catch a word
(wil-o'-the-wisping as language is not very common
and therefore not often heard)
Let's say (to help our ***** a bit)
the burglar was slightly confused
so nothing much happend
until the swamp woke up
and swamp was not amused
„Who dared to disturbe my holy sleep?“
he blubbered with utmost grim
*****'s finger pointed out to the burglar then
and he sheepishly squeaked „that was him!“
Swamp did not hesitate too long
burglar sank into swamp to a place deep and stealthy
(for medical reasons we have to admit
this can't be considered as healthy)
In the next days ***** did not no more complain
to spend some more time at home
as he learned one thing this very day:
there are many ways that lead to Rome.
(©Heike Borgard 2014)
for he was young and much too small
to roam the swamp alone
He wanted to be an elusive light
mysterious, misguiding and haunting the night.
„Oh swamp“ he whined „it all goes so slow
I don't want to stay home – please help me to grow!“
„Shut up, little ones, enough of that weeping“
bubbled the swamp and then started sleeping
„Oh not again“ the old tree moaned as ***** burst out in tears
and raised his branches left and right
to cover up his ears.
Meanwhile a burglar with Police had a battle
with a big bag of loot he had to skedaddle
into the swamp and lost the way.
He watched out for a guiding light
but all he found was crying *****
(wil-o'-the whisping really not bright)
„What's that?“ the burglar snidely asked
„a lousy glooming firefly?
can't even light my cigarette
get out of my way little bug“
and proceeded to pass by.
This now was too much for *****'s pride
(teenagers often freak out)
He drew himself to his fullest height
and he shouted loud:
„listen you mean and human thing – I am no dim-lit light!
Beware of the rage of an wil-o'-the wisp!“
and then he run completely wild
„Hear what I will bring to you
first death then pain and sorrow
I'll **** you first then chase you down
for you there's no more tomorrow
I'll lead you into deepest swamp to a puddle of mud
and when you start to drown in it – I'll watch you in cold blood“
(if we were picky in logic and order we surely now have to complain
but let's close an eye for he is still very young – back to the story again)
Inspite all efforts and *****'s threats
the burglar did not catch a word
(wil-o'-the-wisping as language is not very common
and therefore not often heard)
Let's say (to help our ***** a bit)
the burglar was slightly confused
so nothing much happend
until the swamp woke up
and swamp was not amused
„Who dared to disturbe my holy sleep?“
he blubbered with utmost grim
*****'s finger pointed out to the burglar then
and he sheepishly squeaked „that was him!“
Swamp did not hesitate too long
burglar sank into swamp to a place deep and stealthy
(for medical reasons we have to admit
this can't be considered as healthy)
In the next days ***** did not no more complain
to spend some more time at home
as he learned one thing this very day:
there are many ways that lead to Rome.
(©Heike Borgard 2014)
humor smile Wil-o'-the-wisp swamp burglar
Londis Carpenter Sep 2010
One Punch Willy Brown
Londis Carpenter
Sep 2010
Saddled up to a bar-room stool, at a place on the East side of town,
drinking beer from a can, sat a dangerous man known as One-Punch ***** Brown.
The gals all sidled near him; the guys seemed to leave him alone.
We all knew his reputation and that ***** was bad to the bone.
They say he once knocked out a horse and his hands could move faster than light.
We all knew how he came by his nickname; with one punch he could end any fight.
I sat at a game with five cards in my hand. I was hoping to fill in a straight.
With a gamblers face, I threw off an Ace and I hoped for a King or an eight.
Now, across the backroom at a table, all alone, just observing the scene,
sat what I'd call, one hell of a lady, with the dignity of a queen.
It was clear she was taking great interest in One-Punch ***** Brown,
by the smile that swept over her features when he signaled the bar for a round.
Though you never would guess he had noticed the lady all dressed in blue,
***** winked to the barkeep and whispered, "And take one over there to the shrew. "
I took it all in as I played out my hand; reading faces was part of my game.
In a moment I saw what most men would have missed; ***** cringed and his smile seemed to wane.
Now, from where I was playing the hand I was dealt, there by the backroom door,
I suddenly knew, as my Ace I threw, they had somehow met before.
I knew by her smirk and by his crooked grin, before this day would be o'er,
that the lady in blue, called by *****, "A shrew, " was intending to settle a score.
My blood ran cold and the tension grew, as I waited the luck of my ruse;
I saw tears wash away the makeup that covered a hell of a bruise.
I realized now why the lady was here and what she had come to do.
God! I wondered why he had beaten her so and I hated what I now knew.
I raised the bet, and sorted my cards; I noticed the hour was late.
I filled my hand with a Queen high straight, for the dealer had passed me an eight.
As I made my spread and collected my win, the lady played her Ace.
She shot three times and, as ***** fell, I saw he was shot in the face.
A hush fell over the bar room and ***** now lay on the floor.
No one else seemed to notice the lady in blue had already slipped out the door.
When they ask if I knew what had happened, when they wanted to know what Id seen,
I said, "All I saw was the cards in my hand; I was holding a Straight to the Queen."
drinking beer from a can, sat a dangerous man known as One-Punch ***** Brown.
The gals all sidled near him; the guys seemed to leave him alone.
We all knew his reputation and that ***** was bad to the bone.
They say he once knocked out a horse and his hands could move faster than light.
We all knew how he came by his nickname; with one punch he could end any fight.
I sat at a game with five cards in my hand. I was hoping to fill in a straight.
With a gamblers face, I threw off an Ace and I hoped for a King or an eight.
Now, across the backroom at a table, all alone, just observing the scene,
sat what I'd call, one hell of a lady, with the dignity of a queen.
It was clear she was taking great interest in One-Punch ***** Brown,
by the smile that swept over her features when he signaled the bar for a round.
Though you never would guess he had noticed the lady all dressed in blue,
***** winked to the barkeep and whispered, "And take one over there to the shrew. "
I took it all in as I played out my hand; reading faces was part of my game.
In a moment I saw what most men would have missed; ***** cringed and his smile seemed to wane.
Now, from where I was playing the hand I was dealt, there by the backroom door,
I suddenly knew, as my Ace I threw, they had somehow met before.
I knew by her smirk and by his crooked grin, before this day would be o'er,
that the lady in blue, called by *****, "A shrew, " was intending to settle a score.
My blood ran cold and the tension grew, as I waited the luck of my ruse;
I saw tears wash away the makeup that covered a hell of a bruise.
I realized now why the lady was here and what she had come to do.
God! I wondered why he had beaten her so and I hated what I now knew.
I raised the bet, and sorted my cards; I noticed the hour was late.
I filled my hand with a Queen high straight, for the dealer had passed me an eight.
As I made my spread and collected my win, the lady played her Ace.
She shot three times and, as ***** fell, I saw he was shot in the face.
A hush fell over the bar room and ***** now lay on the floor.
No one else seemed to notice the lady in blue had already slipped out the door.
When they ask if I knew what had happened, when they wanted to know what Id seen,
I said, "All I saw was the cards in my hand; I was holding a Straight to the Queen."
copyright by Londis Carpenter
all rights reserved
all rights reserved