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Mrs Timetable May 2024
My cat won't cuddle
Lost my car, too
Forgot where I parked
I'll just watch some
Jeapardy clues
I have no snacks
And my boots are broken down,
Mary Lou
hates the word slacks, and with mixed drinks, she goes to town!
I lost my dog
I lost my truck
I lost my girl
I wonder what's on Cozy TV right now?
Pretty sure it's Monk
Sorry, I got distracted, Mary Lou
Sad you're
Feeling melancholy and blue
I mean it's my only pair of shoes
Can you fix my boots, please ?
With some whiskey
Or some twine
She said
"Try some shoestring
Even try some wine"
Walking all over town
Pondering
Mary Lou
That's actually how my boots feel
Right now...
Very blue
And it's not
Not just my shoes
I asked some friends to contribute some silliness of writing a country song. 4 of us contributed. This is the finished product. *Names were changed to protect the innocent (Mary Lou)
Man May 2024
Sweat grips,
My teeth grit,
A symphony of groans.
Hot is the breath
That escaped my lungs.
Loud was the noise;
Rustles, creaks, moans.
Long did the hours draw,
Still coming to dawn.
Anais Vionet Apr 2024
(inspired by ‘Dusty Rose Dreaming’ by vb)

We’re powdered city girls heading into a club,
bright orchids entering the hothouse,
spreading fun with noblesse oblige,
qua somethings suited for silver screens.

Our attention’s as uncertain as the stock market.

Experts at mixing trickery and disguise,
we’re but vague summations of nature,
as we sparkling preen, like excited atoms.

Rouged and kohled to unnatural colors,
dressed in silk-whispers to tease and entice,
in neon-light, broken by par-cans, scanners
and champagne flutes, we’re superhero-like
immune to societal judgment and aghast rebuke.

In our few, fleeting nights of youth
let our voices chorus in laughter.
What’s it to you? Tell the truth.
.
.
Songs for this piece:
Baby You’re a Superstar by NuDisco
Love Land by the Blenders
Nostalgie Du Voyage by Nightflight
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge:
Noblesse oblige: those with high social rank or wealth being generous to the lower ranks.
qua:  a substitute preposition for ‘as’
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2024
Sand witches, solar sisters, they are the
west coast in this part of the cosmos,
tied to the hip with American thighs
and Brazilian otherwise, donning
catamaran bottoms the color of
red liquorice and snuggly
they sit at their
international
dateline
as if by
magic
Robert Ippaso Apr 2024
Some say I'm soulful,
Others the Devils tool,
One minute I might find you doleful,
The other acting quite the fool.

Yet that's patently unfair,
One aspect that I can't abide,
For I'm as pure as the morning air,
A child of the gentle ocean tide.

You may not think I live, but live I do,
Spawned in my cocoon of flames,
I thrive, but then die too,
Often amongst angst and conflicting claims.

My pedigree is strong,
Admired and always wanted,
With me you simply can't go wrong,
At times even something to be flaunted.

Your forebears held me close,
I'm privy to their secrets,
Through me their lifeline flows,
Despite them lying with the crickets.

I'm a chameleon, color is my muse,
I change according to my company,
Treat me well, never abuse,
For at my core a fragile symphony.

Where I came from no one knows,
But the world is my own oyster,
Having neither friends nor foes,
Life itself is what I foster.

Now you ask, who can I be
Someone quite so clearly needed,
Look around and you might see,
Generations that preceded.
The one word answer needs fit every stanza and there are clues throughout. Feel free to email me.
Robert Ippaso Mar 2024
What am I?

I’m great fun and sometimes crazy,
Loud or soft with moods quite hazy,
Full of love, sorrow, unrequited loss,
One minute happy another sullen, cross.
I see the world in shades of neon gray,
Rarely do I care or anyone obey,
My vibes are epic, they constantly perplex,
Full of contradictions, invariably complex.
I can praise the Lord, drink myself into a stupor,
Stalking the room with unrequited humor.
*** is my go-to, gentle or pulsating,
Not always happy, at times tearfully heartbreaking.
I know the secret to capture every heart,
Life would be intolerable by keeping me apart.
Whatever you may think this is no passing phase,
I'm known to be pervasive and hound your mind for days.
My moods are epic, a journey to discover,
Your friend to soothe you or belatedly recover.

Come on - What am I?
One clue - the answer is a What not a Who
Ken Pepiton Mar 2024
Fluid time, fluid stone, fluid light
all right, solid nothing,
nothing at all, a solid wall,

with a clustering of curious curio types,

messengers messaging between
whole and part, paid tuition
ars intuitus
rare anachronists insist, words evolve.

Words expand, as children into sage
or wastrel conformed and conditioned
expanding the idea of wedom,
breathing, statistically half in, as half out
breathe,
what manner of man am I, wombed or un?

Were there ever men such as we, who can
share context across history, at earth level.
----------------------

Considering the ant is no childish passtime,
Fulfilling aristocratic duty to learn then teach,
Considered here, linearly, on a thread

one thought wide, picked from circumstance,
to consider sidereally distant, sent from Mars,

between three and twenty minutes of time away,
on an arc affected by cohesive force, eh

grave-definite down, down, down
to the core of our communication organs,

signaling scents accepted as thought projected,
kindly lines, minds attuned as thought accepted.
--------------------

Consider ever, from your vastest sense,
of the gravity bubble we exist within,

you and I, my hearing, seeing, knowing
me and you, my guardian guiding will,

to which I choose to submit, under no threat.

General Common Sense, beauty recognition,

test to tell if the word lord means any true -ing,

Greek men, pure, indeed, wisdoming wedom

mob minds and freedom do not mix,
oil and water, sure as Hell.

Freedom from all forms of tyranny, what holds
our we shape, in our minds? Common sense,

under all the stories contained within this
Goldilocks zone of unintended circumstances,
working out, fine, just iusta think
fine…
is no real answer, it is a code, a social norm set
said, fine, I'll say it, as a code for so small
we'd need ants eyes to see it…

and, lo', we have those,
we have predictable macroscopic images,
graven deep into our idle time drifting state

watching art mock life, and learn life laughs.
--------------------
For you to use in any way you can imagine perfectly fine with me.
SelinaSharday Mar 2024
Do with ya.
Make ya breakfast on time. Duh…
I see somethin diff about cha.
some don't know what to do with ya.
But you can see sumthin different when ya with me.
preparing ya lunch.. What you like I got a hunch..
every day when ya f'in with me.. be somethin diff.
Dinners going to be somethin to stick to ya bone.
Ya won't get the same thing er’day.
the young chicks don't know what ta do with ya..
with ya yeah yeah.
I'm like seasoning simmering and classic dinning.
but home grown fixing..ol schoolin know what I mean..
I'm jus saying I'ma eye pleasing cuddly smiling thang.
Dedicated behavior..
dressing thangs up and smoothing things round..
so cool so cool....
Bring yah specialty behavior...
So I can bring tha flavor...
tasty gravy.. committed chemistry, sweet rarity.
I could be best fa yah...
cuz some wouldn't know what ta do wit cha..

H.E.R_Poetry By SelinaShardaye
Being Her.
Zywa Feb 2024
I flounder, hanging

over grandpa's leg, hello --


super shiny shoes!
Poem "Grootvader" ("Grandfather", 2019, Bart Moeyaert)

Collection "Here &Now&"
I'm on my own
I've been on my own since I was born
Once born I struggled to breath the air
When dying I'll struggle to stop
It will feel like someone's sitting atop my chest
Until I die I will do my best
To live my life to the fullest
Death will just be the punctuation of my life
After my life I will be put to rest
No more love, no more strife
Horizontally, I'll be planted
A prayer will be chanted
No more vertical living
Nutrients to the ground I'll be giving.
Passing on....memeto mori...
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