Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2013
Mashup

Part I

I mashup me, myself, and perhaps thee too.


Excerpts from my poems about poets, poetry and the process of compositions. In chronological order, earliest to latest.
---------------------------------------------------------­------------------

With words we paint,
With syllables we embrace,
Tasked and ennobled,
We are forever fully employed,
Missionaries to all,
You too, are one as well,
Your fate can't be renounced,

when the rusted unborn poem notion is almost done,
but remains unpublished,
for no beginning, no title, can be found,

Then I recall the cornucopia days,
when poems spilled forth like
there would never be a when they wouldn't,

I revisit my old friends, couplets, twins and triplets,
seeded inside every tear, happy or sad,
sweetly and freely,

my old friends, reread,
words rearranged in new combinations,
old poems, plants bearing new fruits,
re-titled all of them, one name,
a collection entitled,
My Solace.


My eyes, my eyes, see only the
Totality of this moment.
When mastery of multi-tasking
Is the single best poem this man ever
Penned with his entirety,
Of which not word survived
For its unspoken silence was its glory.

My compact with you is to
remind us all, through
music, dance, words (poetry) and love,
This is the only compact
with the power of human law.


Color me flesh ****,
Color me blue bottled,
Red ripped asunder,
The sweetness ascribed to my love poetry,
A subtraction of the bitterness of a failed life.
Colorist of my seams, my woven words,
I am white now, my canvas completed,
Waiting for another poet to write over it,
And chaining new words to what was prior writ.

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.


You ask me how I find the time,
(To write)
But time is not the issue,
For they, are all prepared, needing only recognition,
For they, are all in readiness, needing only composition.

For who's who in poetry
is all of us!
saviors and failures,
recorders and decoders,
night writers of the oohs and aahs
of dreams and nightmares.

When this poet cannot,
no longer, anymore,
tastes his poems upon your lips,
keep your poems within his heart,
then he breathes no more,
and becomes one who was, yet is,
because of you, in poetry.

Awful poetry, some good, you will write.
But write and write till your heart be calmed,
For even ancient kings felt the anguish  of the soul,
And we profit even today by King David's psalms.


This wizened fool has his hands full,
Mouths to feed, bread to earn and bake,
As midnight is almost nigh,
He rests prone and adds a verse to this old poem
He long ago scribbled down, grimace-smiles now,
Realizing there is little difference tween him and the
Sad Eyed Teenagers of the Lowland.

For poetry salves his wounds still, even now,
Unashamedly, he thinks, hallelujah!

The poem is the afterbirth,
A conflicts resolution, an outcome,
Battlefield debris, the residue of
An exacting vision, a sentiment surging,
And your army of words, inadequate to the task,
Fighting to capture that insight flashed,
Each word a soldier, disheveled,
Crying, let me live, let me be saved,
Let me make a poem,
Let it be inscribed upon my victorious flag.

The poem is the sweat left upon the brow,
Having exercised the five senses,
The salt of struggle and debate,
It's completion, each word,
Both a victory and a defeat.

To write but a single line,
That uplifts the heart,
Eases pain, gives delight to strangers,
And makes you laugh out loud
With shivery pleasure,
That usurps a whole day and night,
That is a poet's true measure.

Mastery of the poetic,
Measured not in quantity,
But in tears of satisfaction
When others love the taste
Of newly born stanzas
Upon their lips,
couplets born and transcribed
In the wee hours of the morn.


You can have my love, my soul,
But leave to me the labor of poetry.
Loving you with words is my domain,
The speciality of my terrain,
So no more hasta la pasta if you please,
And by the bye, I would love some
Tonight, say around eight,
At a restaurant where the moon is
The only light illuminating our faces.

Until you have bent your ear to Shakespeare's sonnets,
Till you have laughed with Ogden Nash,
Wept with Frost, visited Byron's ghost,
Read the songs of King Solomon,
And once you
Despair of being their equal,
Shed your winter coat of worry,
***** your courage to the sticking point,
Begin to write then with reckless courage,
Unfettered abandon, make a fool of yourself!

Scout the competition.
Weep, for you and I will never surpass
The giants who preceeded us, and yet,
Laugh, cause they thought the same thing as well...


All I can say is
En Garde!
I will be coming back soon enough.
because you are my best poem,
and the there will always be another stanza needed...

I am no Houdini, it's quite simple,
After 5 years, I read her like a book,
A book of my poems that she has inspired,
Entitled the Mysteries of True Love.


Each letter, a morsel in your mouth,
Each phrase, a fork full of pleasure,
Each stanza, a full fledged member in a tasting menu,
Perfect only in conjunction with the preceding flavor,
and the one that follows,  and the one that follows.

Taste each poem upon thy tongue and then pass it on,
you know how....

Each word, whether chewed thoroughly,
or lightly placed upon a bud for flavor,
needs the careful consideration of your mouth.

When I hear Shakespeare
My own voice is stilled, it's poverty exposed,
I am ashamed of every word I ever wrote.
Hush me not, for t'is true,
Yet I write on for an audience of one, on but one subject,
A subject, a life, mine,
yet, still unmastered, even after decades of trying.

My poverty exposed, unmasked
for what it is worth, or not.


Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!

Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...

So baby,
shut it down,
turn me on,
make me warm for real,
glide your now practiced fingertips on my grizzled cheek,
whisper a phony "ugh,"
cause I know, you will read
this iPad love poem
and cherish us for evermore.


Soul of brevity, poetically,
I'll never be, this insightful critique,
("Your poems are too long")
I've received in multiplicity, from sources internationally,
perhaps, lucky me, you've read this far?

Surely still a chance that an angel will touch my lips,
my internal parts sign a final treaty, inside an armistice,
night sweats sighs a thing fully forgot,
poetry writing can now be dispatched,
maybe that will be my Act III,
if I can stay awake for it.

Walk a Single Word.
To write a poem, a single word select,
embrace it with a fullness that lovers, family and friends
and the *** who cut you off in the middle lane
do daily provide

Grasp said word, walk it onto a yellow, blue lined, legal pad,
touch said word with the whisper of a single tear, a single curse,
like a pebble in a pond,
said word will miracle expand
hugging you with concentric circles of lines of poetry,
visionary words and stanzas that almost complete themselves
and you

The rhymes you will require, the meter you will select,
no need to struggle, hug your child and as Abraham told Isaac,
God and Google will provide

The simple trickster, a wordsmiths, even your average poet laureate,
got nothing on you that you don't already possess, to offer them
Plenty stiff competition.


Therefore,
My life is mine to take,
Should I wish to choose the
Place, date, the time
To let the poetry cease,
I will announce it mostly gladly
with a blessing of
Shehecheyanu* and a
Smiling "by your leave."

Sometimes the pen, unnecessary.
The poem, fully formed, in his mouth, born.

Silent back labor, unbeknownst the existence
Of such a thing, yet knowing now
His contractions, coming fast and furious,
Eyes many centimeters dilated,
The sac's fluid breaks upon the poet's tongue,
He pronounces in a single breath his
Immaculate Completion

When his hand to mouth, goes,
Like Moses, when he touched the burning coals,
The words are signaled, freedom!
The words announce:
We are now created, conceived and
This new oxgenated atmosphere is now our
final resting place.

This child, the poem, this exhalation,
Once freed, is lost to him,
It's been renamed, retitled,
by hundreds of newly adopted parents as
Ours.


Words needed to create another love poem for my beloved,
Nose and toes, ******* and eyes all regularly poetically,
Cherished,
Now I have knuckled under
And competed a full poetic body scan
And have paid tribute to each n'every part of you,
Even your knuckles...which I am busy kissing
While writing this poem in my distracted mind.

The next time it be for the morning meal,
I will eat it in bed,
far from their kitchen hiding places,
And celebrate my heroics with original
Frosted Flakes and milk,
And extra sugar just for spite!
The bedroom fairies, living under the pillow,
Emerge to beg in iambic pentameter,
Won't get nary a bite,
Until they they return the poems they stole
From my midnight dreams.


I am exhausted. So many gems to decorate
My body, my soul. I must stop here,
So many of you have reached out, none of you overlooked.

Overwhelmed, let us sit together now
And celebrate the silence that comes after the
Gasp, the sigh, that the words have taken from
Our selves, from within.


On and on thru the night,
Riffing, rapping, rambling, and spitting,
Ditties and darts, couplets and barbs,
Single words and elegies,
Free verse and a lot of fking curse words,
It was a moment, a time
that deserved
to be preserved,
and so this poem got writ

You may think this story apocryphal
Which is another way of saying untrue,
But I got his boarding pass and it is signed,
To this crazy poetry dude, long may you rasp,
And it is signed by Mr. P. Simon, a big fan,
And it has never since that day,
Left my grasp


Some poems never end,
Nor meant too.
Alliterative phrases, invitations,
Add a verse, a word, even a sound,
An exclamation of delight,
A stanza in its own right.

Unfinished work, forever additive, collaborative.
Modify mine, pass it on.

Read somewhere some poems never end,
Now I understand that better,
Cause there are no bandages, stitches that can close,
Cause there are no pills, switches that can shut off,
The ripping sound, the cutting noise, the raging inside
Heard blocks away, almost reaching a house where you live,
And dying in the same **** place that
Poems come from after midnight.


And even if I am stranger now,
I'll prove useful to have around,
Giving you poetry precisely couture designed by command,
So I fully expect to be hugging you happy
Soon enough.
You'll see.

No matter combo or organized, a good nights sleep
Elusive
So poetry is my default rest position,
My screen savior.

**So when I warn,
All my poems are copywrighted,
My meaning simple, words crystal,
They belong to us, but mostly to you
Who are reading these words
Mashup Part II  Is now posted.

It appears that I write a lot on this topic.   Anyway all theses are indeed snippets from poems  I wrote  and have posted here.  Started with the oldest poems May 18 and working my way thru 'em
Dorothy A Jul 2010
Look upon all my beauty
I'm a traditional rhyme
Written so elegantly
Perfect in every line!

No, look at my free verse style!
I'm not prissy or fussy
I'm free as a bird with a free spirit
That flies within the realm
Of so many possibilities and directions!
Much less inhibited than you!

Nonsense! The camera flashes!
They are taking pictures of me!
Lovely, poetic form of old
Style, as pure as can be!

You're out of your mind!
You traditional snob!
All the oohs and aahs
Are really all for my poetic genius!
Move aside!

And so they soon got into a tussle, words flying everywhere....that is according to Free Verse

Traditional Rhyme felt so robbed
Free Verse, you trouble maker!
You may be the rage of the day!
But to me you are a faker!

Free Verse had such a harsh choke hold
On the throat of Traditional Rhyme
I can rhyme too... but not like you!
Perfectly? No! Not all of the time!

Traditional Rhyme called a truce
Finally accepting both ways
Sure, she had grace and she had style
But Free Verse would not go away
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Hello Poetry


Yearned.
Ached.
For so long, for a community,
That values the ineffable wonder
Of a wordsmith's creations, intended to
Repair himself and the world with bullets of
Verses.

And here you are.

Like/Dislike, matters not,
So long as we value each others work,
And the the heart echoes within
What the eyes read and the mouth whispers.

The array and disparity of your names,
A delight,
Each name a poem
In its own right.

So I resubmit a question for your consideration,
The answer is now known,
The answer is all of us.
May 2013
---------------------------------------------------------


­Who's Who In Poetry  



T'is a curious thing,
these verbal peddlers, tribal members,
famously well known to no one,
perhaps at best,
a kindred few, fellow-travelers.

Each a troop,
bloodied, purple hearted,
word-wounded,
anonymous unto each other,
yet all bonded intimates,
in solitary struggle united,
yet sea-parted by the very nature
of the solitude of composition.

All poets are Cain scar-marked,
purposed for everyone to see,
a warning to rabbled boors,
imagination suppressors!

World:

cherish these flawed ones,
gentle these frail but gritty,
the Lord has tasked them
to be prophets in one tongue untied,
undo the strife of Babel's division.

Poets!

Be the harpooners
of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody,
comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy
to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders
into crinkly eye-lined smilers.

With clinical observation,
dense and demanding,
make us laugh at
the comedy of our situation,
teach us our free-to-see peep show,
reveal, unseal us
with **** empathy!

For who's who in poetry
is all of us!
saviors and failures,
recorders and decoders,
night writers of the oohs and aahs
of dreams and nightmares.

When this poet cannot,
no longer, anymore,
tastes his poems upon your lips,
keep your poems within his heart,
then he breathes no more,
and becomes one who was,
yet is,
because of you,
in poetry.
---------------
Postscript (1/25/17)

Even more true today, than four years ago.
Thank You.
a revised, minor modestly different, version was published in Feb 2016 as
Orphans and Poets, Peddlers & Members https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1564122/orphans-and-poets-peddlers-members/


and then finally another different variant, more personal was published in
Aug 2016 as
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1734088/the-harpooner-of-the-unexamined-life


the harpooner of the unexamined life

"Be the harpooner of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody, comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders into crinkly eye-lined smilers."

writ many years past, just another dusted off phrasing,
composed from life's lecture notes, collected by eyes tired
from the hazing,
eyes wearied by the addict-strong,
incessant observational needing,
of celebrating the loopy,
they who make this planet
capable of laughing at itself,
a helping habit for mutual survival...

should you spot a man ungainly wrought,
weighted down by a harpoon cross
cursed  'pon his Cain-marked back,
you need not move to the other side,
'tis only a make-believe poet,
with his recording device,
seizing your rhapsodies to rhyme,
his collected artifacts, your crinkly smiles,
his meat, his metier, his chosen career,
a comfort caresser of your illusions into
a shapely sculpture of words for you to keep,
a token of your now examined worth,
a celebration for the keeping...
___________-

special thanks to those who rediscovered these poems recently and brought them back to me for refreshing cherishing these old word friends.
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2016
T'is a curious thing,
these verbal peddlers,
these tribal members,
famously well known to no one,
perhaps at best,
a kindred few, fellow-travelers.

Each a troop,
in the army of orphans,
bloodied, purple hearted,
word-wounded,
anonymous unto each other,
yet all bonded intimates,
in solitary struggle united,
yet sea-parted by the very nature
of the solitude of composition.

All poets are Cain scar-marked,
purposed for everyone to see,
a warning to the rabbled boors,
the imagination suppressors!

World:

cherish these flawed ones,
gentle these frail but gritty,
the Lord has tasked them
to be prophets in one tongue untied,
undo the strife of Babel's division.

Poets!

Be the harpooners
of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody,
comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy
to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders
into crinkly eye-lined smilers.

With clinical observation,
dense and demanding,
make us laugh at
the comedy of our situation,
teach us our free-to-see peep show,
reveal, unseal us
with **** empathy!

For who's who in poetry
is all of us!
saviors and failures,
recorders and decoders,
night writers of the oohs and aahs
of dreams and nightmares.

When this poet cannot,
no longer, anymore,
taste his poems upon your lips,
keep your poems within his heart,
then he breathes no more,
becoming one who was, yet still is,
because of you,

because of poetry.
yasmin miranda May 2011
Barbie screams for help in her dream house
as you rush to the scene, a towel tied loosely over your shoulders,
a pillow beneath your shirt in place of a Kevlar vest,
and only oversized sunglasses covering your identity.


As you rush to save her, Elmo – your first rescue –
clings tightly beneath your underarm, bobbing gently
as you scale the ottoman and jump from couch to couch.


To the unseeing world you are Batman,
Wolverine, the Flash, and all of the Avengers –
ordinary men made heroic through radiation and tragedy.


But I see beyond the alter ego, past the acrobatics
and death-defying maneuvers that merit the oohs
and aahs within our general definition of heroic.


I see a boy truly worth admiring, the boy I’d call for help
if needed, because in you I see all boys, In you
I see the beauty of biology, the lovely product of a number
of atoms I will never have enough lifetimes to count.


If you could only see the splendid hue of your wide-eyed
innocence as you tie your teddy bear villain to the chair leg,
unaware that the seemingly simple steps of your chubby fingers
require a million more steps within you.


The sheer energy coursing from nerve to nerve
with each dip of your head and bow of your lashes
is more incredible than any power
induced by gamma rays or infected spiders.


When you place your hands at your waist in glorious victory
and lift each rain-booted foot over entire civilizations
of Lego people, I am made aware of the social circles
present within you, the cliques of tissues and cells
moving uniformly inside, carpooling toward their respective jobs,
their kinetic messages traveling faster than
the water-cooler gossip of any terrestrial worker.


And while you separate your plastic dinosaur army
by rank – in this case color, shape, size, and title –
you show the world that the truths you contain
in your four year old brain could rival
any super computer or evil mastermind.


A Pomerian named Lucy yips at your feet,
making me keenly impressed by the relatively few genetic signals
that separated you from her in creation, the same genes
that invented the stormy gray novelty of your eyes.


In truth, being superhuman is only a lofty dream
because the awe of being human
is our most overlooked achievement.

But we do not realize this truth until
we’re older – If we ever do – once we’re past
the age of dress-up, too old to announce this fact
by wearing tights in our favorite colors
and a cape with our own initials.
This is about the beauty of humanity (inspired by my favorite four year old).
abecedarian Aug 2018
!all men are fair weathermen!

if what they predict and promised
don’t happen quick, a thunderstorm of oops and aahs, follows asap.

quick move on to making more forecasts
with a higher degree of confidence that either way,
may be you need not wonder
a withering whether, or not,
if they’ll come true

always end your broadcast with the
I Love You (You Know Who)
with a wink and no names cause safe
is the fair weather
always accurate

now I know that it can rain oil from heaven,
promises that come
pre-broken;
summers predestined to end and the fall prepares us
for bittersweet cold alone and
the oil rain just smokes
but does not warm
SUNDARAM SARMA Dec 2022
A tropical paradise island is Hawaii that conjures a feeling of sheer joy,
It’s very mention evokes thoughts of vacationing one can really enjoy,
Location-wise one can state that it is “ far from the madding crowd”,
It is like heaven on earth, meant for visitors to be wowed

Waikiki in Honolulu is the hub for most hotels with proximity to the beach,
It’s just a 16-minute cab ride from the airport and thus quick to reach,
That the closest State to Hawaii is California - a 2500-mile sector,
Just shows how travel time from elsewhere, involves jet lag to factor

Located in the Pacific Ocean, Hawaii is quintessential if one may say so,
It is the only U.S. state outside North America that is an archipelago,
As the only state geographically located in the tropics,
It is a tourist haven, with always an abundance of optics

The word "Aloha" is commonplace in signages and on everyone's lips,
As a form of greeting it implies hello and welcome - a very useful tip,
The locals are very effusive when they greet visitors with Aloha,
One cannot but express delight by silently exclaiming, Aha!

"Mahalo" is another word that visitors get used to hearing frequently,
It means "thank you" - a gracious acceptance of the locals' hospitality,
The infectious warm welcome to visitors has an air of spontaneity,
Syncing with the embracing pervasive Hawaiian culture in it's entirety

The inevitable fresh flower "lei" welcome awaits visitors checking into hotels,
Lei is a symbol of hospitality, love, respect and aloha in which Hawaii excels,
A lei made from sea shells is an alternative option that one can have by choice,
Irrespective of the form of lei offered, wearing it is surely a matter to rejoice

Honolulu is the capital of Hawaii on the island of Oahu's south shore,
It is the largest city and gateway to the U.S. island chain and much more,
As one of the main eight islands in Hawaii, Oahu is the most populous,
It is also the business hub of the Aloha State and hence very famous

Also known as "The Gathering Place", Oahu aptly lives up to it's name,
As home to the majority of Hawaii's diverse population, it has a lot to gain,
There's the fusion of East and West cultures resulting in a delicate balance,
Rooted in the value and cultures of Native Hawaiian people, with no imbalance

The popular bustling and vibrant Waikiki neighborhood within Honolulu city is unique,
It is the epicenter for eclectic restaurants, nightlife and designer fashion boutiques,
Waikiki is also reputed for its white sandy beach that is a whole 2-mile stretch,
Where visitors throng throughout the day, as if there's little else the mind can fetch

Waikiki in Hawaiin means "spouting waters" and is replete with a gamut of water activities,
Surfing, snorkeling, swimming, canoe paddling and boogie boarding are typical beach proclivities,
With matching stunning views of the landscape, visitors can be seen lazing in total relaxation,
It is little wonder that the beach is always crowded and a famed getaway vacation destination

Friday night fireworks by Hilton Hawaiian Village along Waikiki Beach is a must-watch attraction,
The colorful display evoking delightful oohs and aahs from onlookers though, is of short duration,
The razzle-dazzle of the show skillfully transmits joy & happiness through the art of pyrotechniqes,
A feeling of bliss envelops one and all, on witnessing the sound-and-light show marvel mystique

Dole Whip is a popular non-dairy pineapple ice cream and, in Hawaii, is a cult-status confection,
A key ingredient is unsweetened coconut milk that adds creaminess and flavor to the selection,
Fresh lime bumps up the flavor and adds extra zing to the taste of the final Dole Soft Serve swirl,
Savoring the heavenly refreshing unique taste allows the hedonist's squeal of delight to unfurl

A visit to Oahu or any other Hawaii island is never complete without attending a traditional luau,
Luau represents a gathering meal of food, music and dance and is integral with Polynesian milieu,
It is a party like no other with continuous foot-tapping live music accompanied by Hawaiin dancing acts,
While the compere regales guests with anecdotes of Polynesian traditions laced with interesting facts

Hawaii is also famous for it's sensuous mimetic hula dance - traditionally, a form of communication,
Ancient hula, or "kahiko" with undulating gestures to instruments and chant was an original creation,
Transformed under Western influence to "auana", it now involves sinuous movement of limbs and hips,
The accompanying peppy music involves storytelling or place description well in tune with the scripts

The fitting finale to Hawaii luauas is generally the famed Samoan fire knife ceremonial dance,
A knife, partially exposed & wrapped in oil-soaked cloth is set alight for the performer's stance,
Incredible acrobatic stunts involve twirling, tossing and catching the knife to the fast beat of music,
The appreciative response of the audience builds up the momentum, reaching a crescendo almost seismic

Sauntering in the beach, one can watch people meandering about with gay abandon,
The inescapable feeling of blissful relaxation is typical of a destination-Hawaii vacation,
The days fly by, making you wish at the end that the stay could have been a tad longer,
While treasuring joyful memories in the interim, your thoughts go to similar places yonder
Mike Hauser May 2013
A cosmic parade today fell from the starry sky
As nations lined up to watch it all pass by

Beauty to behold, a bit hard to believe
Paraded down all the worlds cities streets

Chrystal spears of every color and size
Filled with wonder all the hearts and the minds*

Never before has there been such a day
As this day of the cosmic parade

Exotic flowers dancing in a magical mood
Bright colors flashing in a rainbow of hue

Nothing of this sort has ever been seen
Like being awake in the strangest of dreams

The oddest of creatures whistling planetary tunes
With banners held high of universal moons

All you hear from the crowd are oohs, aahs, and sighs
As the cosmic parade goes floating by

7 foot tall aliens with 7 bells in each of their 7 hands
Lined up 2 by 2 in the parades space time marching band

Polka dot animals with heads like big bass drums
Being ridden and played by purple hands with 13 thumbs

In place of all the floats, spaceships were in flight
Spelling out peace and love in brightly colored lights

That must be the reason for this wonderful parade
To bring joy and peace to a world in need on this day of special days

A machine like none ever seen scattered stardust confetti to the wind
Causing all the world as one to turn and call each other friend

As anger and hatred melted from the heart of man
At that precise instant throughout all the land

Just as fast as this cosmic wonder fell out of the sky
At the end of the street is where they waved goodbye

Off to spread the message of serenity and peace
*To other solar systems like ours that desperately have that need
SøułSurvivør Jul 2016
Every year as a child
We'd go down to the mall
Spread blankets on the new mown grass
And watch the fires fall
The display was not a large one
For Tucson was quite small
But on my father's shoulders
And I felt Ten Feet Tall!

At dusk the fireworks began
With blasts... staccato pops!
We'd watch with awe the sparklers
That would, as fat sparks, drop!
It would get brighter and brighter still!
It never seemed to stop!

The oohs and aahs of the crowd!
The smell of grass fresh cut!
Looking up! Exploding embers!
My eyes never shut!

At last! The finale!
What a fireworks display!
We were tired at the end...

.... but it was a PERFECT DAY!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/4/2016
I have nothing but happy memories the 4th of July. The state of the nation now saddens me. But for me this will always be a wonderful day!

Happy Fourth of July everyone!
Erin Haas Jul 2010
I want to scream or shout,
anything to help get me out of here.
I can't even seem to leave mentally
a moment never lost in song or dance.

Instead everywhere I look
I find constant reminders
of how I feel.
Books- covered in dust,
longing to be picked up and read.
The old  red bike in the shed,
hoping someone will share a beautiful summer day with it.
The little black dress in the back of my closet,
crying for night filled with oohs and aahs
while making heads turn.

But the books they are on my shelf,
the bike-- in my shed
and the dress in my size.
For I am the only one to blame
for leaving these once so prized possessions behind.
Forgetting them, leaving them in the past.
Although never used now,
they serve as the reminders
I dread to face each day.
Samuel Mar 2012
It's right you know, really
spot on when someone throws that
phrase out, there being "no words for this
moment, no suitable avenue for a memory"

see
all they forget is the part with "no
dreams like these living in that beautiful head of
yours, no mixed laughter quite as musical"

but each is
always to finish with a soft fizzle, a hot shower
of sparks and touches,

it's no
fireworks show these minutes in the dark, even as
my heart "oohs" and "aahs" all the
same in the kaleidoscope that
surrounds you
Fish The Pig Oct 2014
Two heads
rest upon the bed
where genetics went haywire.
A simple mistake
with a complicated result
often too much for some to take.
Little cat, tumbling to life
two faces morphed and mewing
stumbling right to eternal sleep.
But it's not a life lost-no
it's a spectacle,
tiny monster,
floating in a jar
for nothing but "oohs", "aahs", and study.
Nobody mourns the little cat,
a second face deeming it unworthy
of concern.
Did mama cat know
her precious baby wasn't called a "kitten"?
but a Janus Monster,
a freak of nature,
a prime scientific diamond.
Little monster cat won't get a coffin,
it'll be jarred-catalogued-and stored,
burried in dust instead of dirt.
The kitten that was born and then quickly died, suffers from Diprosopus, which is associated with a protein, called Sonic hedgehog homolog (I **** you not) and is thus, born with two faces. they will stuff him in a jar of preserve and refer to him as a "Janus Monster".
and that is all he will ever be.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes are on you
As you rip the air right out of their lungs
While you dance slowly and masterfully
Beaming with passion and confidence

You merge to become one with the music
And gain 'oohs' and 'aahs' from beguiled girls
Daydreaming and wishing you were theirs
While your girlfriend spectates from a distance

The spell is broken as soon as you stop
To take a breath and take your bow
You sent the coliseum into a stormy applause
I found myself clapping along too

Backstage, you take your girlfriend into your arms
While I sit across you several feet away
You being taken doesn't matter, it never will
I'm too mesmerized by your dancing to even care
I guess we're friends now, John. I just don't know how to feel about it.
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2013
Locked in a frenzy,
Pores dripping like crazy,
She burns me with oohs! and aahs!
Lifts me far, beyond, the twinkling stars.
Elizabeth Kelly Jul 2015
There are veins
Arteries
That connect my heart to the rest of me
Something so vain to plainly see
Your heart exists floating free



Ooohs and aahs

I've never been the kind to shy
Away from another's mistake
And the clouds that live in my house were just another obstacle to shake
But there's only so much a tree can take
And my bows bent so low that I'm ready I'm ready to break
I'm ready I'm ready to break
I'm ready I'm ready to break
sir humbug Jul 2023
five years ago, June 2018,
I, poet Sir Humbug,
wrote:that the job of the artist was to be
luminous and dangerous

<>

the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous

luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves

when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised

and so the job,
our work,
begins


<>

five years on,
somethings have changed,
indeed, the dangers of
being luminous,
clarifying and exposing,
the requisite badge of courage,
need-be more desperately earned

the work is more risky,
as the rules of now are none,
and the risk of good taste,
thoughtful caring,
exposing you innards outwardly,
so easy to demean
and sadly
that titillates the iliterati

like a fire-working fireflies flashing,
their in-concert of ligh attracts the
oohs and aahs
but too,
the restless for glory,
opinionated blowhard,
whose critical boundaries of ill will
are
boundless

yet,
write on, right on
to be where courage be the
sticking point!

your verbs must be pointy,
your direction true,
adjectives of modest innovation,
craft harder, then harder again,
for the work must be honest
in a manner most delicate

now is the time of
subtlety -
if one must bang pots to be heard,
that you to are but a noisemaker, a loser,
an addition to those
lost in the din

quiet passion,
thoughtful insight
to inside, to the tender parts,
will rule the day

and the blow smokers
will rue the day,
as their pretenses chafe and flail wayside,
and your words,
be like sightings of new lands
where you take us utterly beholden,
willing explorers to places most wonderfully

luminous and dangerous!
happenstance collided, coincided, coagulated, et cetera
with hormonally graphic, dumbfounded circumstance
hence, only by a fluke did I manage
to worm winning trust
among Christmas elves and reindeer
vowing confidence
as a confidante sans this generic guy,

would never breach insidious, impious,
illustriously scandalous
tidbits, into a an underground impregnable
air-raid shelter, the motley crue
tied blindfold over my eyes, didst steer
me hermetically sealed
sound (cloud) proof coed bunker,

though escapades emanated noise asper a clunker
subsequently followed by wail of “just dunk her,”
while ensconced (security detail munchkins,
who just so happened tubby queer
minded entrance portal)
only after getting the thumb up signal,

whereat nose pies planted
espionage surveillance devices
the chief head honcho and attendents,
Smoky and the bandits respectively,
magically, andhandily did ap pear

and despite one hundred percent bug free,
a whispered stance opted just to make sure
no unwanted eavesdropper could overhear
plus every participant swore an oath, cuz

any leaked real or “FAKE” information,
would spell imminent demise to be near
the upshot, sans grave emergency
describing clandestine arraignment
involving some rogue elf
(most likely at least two),

and a misbehaving reindeer
(names withheld to avoid any spoiler alert,
plus this entire kit and caboodle
necessary to help Saint Nick

got wind, (and subsequently reined in)
a rave orgiastic party
with orgamsic oohs and aahs
***, drugs and rock and roll,

that a band aided elf(ves)
laced with Pepper Minstix
(anonymously hashtagged
***** and Gomorrah)
sullied pure as the driven snow repute,

when alias Sugarplum Mary (“FAKE NAME”)
detected snorting *******
code named Alabaster Snowball,
while additionally
besmirching her virginity

via ****** cavorting
amidst a Bushy Evergreen
shaking as if frenzied
with feverish boogie woogie flu

which seductive, prurient,
and master baiter friend zeed
(spunky gangnum style) Shinny Upatree
which could slay Wunorse Openslae reputation
as substance abusers,
and *** offenders if not worse.
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2016
Movement beneath the sheets,
Giggles, then ***** oohs and aahs!
Grunts pushing powerful thrusts,
A moment...before the crashing ******.
Marta Mar 2018
I don’t write
That implies some creative act
Instead
I catch the thoughts as they pass by
Bottle them into shapes
And display them
Hoping for the oohs and aahs

I don’t write
That’s too peaceful
I  stalk the words
I wrestle with them
Hold them down
For posterity
And for fame

I don’t write
I beg
For acceptance
For appreciation
For validation
For me
Chris Slade Apr 2020
Politicians, when questioned, who begin their answer with “So”... Those who waffle when questioned and yet they clearly don’t know.
Juggling “ums”, “erms” and “aahs” when struggling to avoid the truth.
It alienates, infuriates and generally makes those interviewed sound unprepared, uninformed, dense, almost uncouth.
But that doesn’t stop them!

The nation’s thirst for updates demands Government be contrite. Approaching difficult situations, yeh - but ours, dropping ******* left & right.
It means an address from a hapless minister almost every night.
Each department must have top aides quaking in their boots
because the media correspondents, incisive, sharp, erudite and firm
shoot tricky questions, deliberately, to make the politicos squirm.

It shines a light on what the country needs... clear thinking, logic common sense, honesty, truth, stealth and less guille.
Not subterfuge, not **** covering,“let’s dodge the bullet” style. Certainly not ten grand extra for having to work from home.
But sharper more contrition, put yourself in our place for a while! We want to be reassured, buoyed up, not consumed with bile.

You get more support and sympathy if you just tell the truth!
A poem based on the UK Government Press Briefings during Covid-19.
An awkward time
Neon lights broadcast sold out show of one Matthew Scott
expert stage craft presents quotidian shows without sound
sole audience forcibly revisits this biography performance
private owner lifetime supply of entire stock season tickets
(to one smash box office hit after another improvisational)
lightning speed mime hologram flashes life capsule oeuvre
corpus trials and tribulations indelibly recorded upon spool
sibilant auditory oohs and aahs from vindictive ultimatums
only one take each scene despite personal abysmal reviews
and serious consideration to hire professional management
accompanying actor, director, producer, projectionist writer
kept preserved upon cranial medium - so called gray matter
extant within the guarded and private repository Fort Knox
until the eventual disintegration from cumulative memories
become totally obscured with the thickening fogs of old age
and the curtain comes down on the final act upon mortality!
modesty nervous onstage
Travis Green Dec 2022
I am so immersed in your superbness
Turned on by your slick muscular build
Your pumped-up flexing pecs
Your flat, cast-iron abs
The way you fold me
In your glossy eye-popping arms

Expose me to your chiseled energy-filled magnificence
Your deep, ****** voice
Makes me fade into your engagingness and straightness
Freaky thoughts of being in your closeness
Gazing at your nakedness
******* your heavy veiny snake

Lick it from side to side
Check out how your wildly arousing eyes meet mine
While my tongue flicks your mushroom tip
Tease your thickness
Make you bite your appetizing chocolate lips
The more you control my throat

Stick your thickness in and of my mouth
Drive me wild with the dirtiest and hotting things you do to me
Sink me into your sinfully shimmering
And steaming dreaminess
Let me give you more neck

Arrest and mesmerize your manliness
Taste you all in my system
My mouth full of your aesthetically dancing
And transfixing pulchritude
I work it from the base to the tip

Stroke your ****, kiss your monolithic riveting thighs
Your lithe muscled legs
Cherish your grandeur
Everything that brings your existence into being
Get a whiff of your bush

Lick your divinely prizewinning V-line
Digest your robustness and thugness
Say your name while you claim and tame my frame
Rattle my brain, rain your unrestrained game-changing hurricane
Upon my plump, mellow softness

Greatly contagious and persuasive sensation
You are so sexually compelling
With a super strong chocolate rod
That has me overly consumed with the desire
To devour your empire
Consistently listening to your oohs and aahs

I enthrall and polish your saucer head
Rock your hotness
Approach your machoness more and more without caution
Get it cracking with your banging brown body
I don’t wanna stop; I wanna call all the shots

Feel all of your virile and vivacious action
Your commendable and vigorous rhythmicity
Fall into your ardent heart-stopping marvelocity
Lust for your aggressive, destructive seductiveness
Let your engagingness sway my gayness
As I cling my skillful feelers to your splendid shimmering rear-end

Dive into your barbarous and incomprehensible fineness
Make me feel your heat, soothe your feet
Lay back, heavenly triumphant Zaddy
Let me romance your manhood
Captivate, elevate, and exhilarate your amazingness
Fantastically romantic and masculine smash

Your aromatic strapping attraction lingers in my innerness
Your supremeness commands attention
Fills me up with your remarkable marketable sauciness
Got me bowled over by your boatload
Of hypnotically enthralling astonishingness
As I slob on your rock-hard phenomenal python

Feel it throb against my jaws
Feel it touch my throat
Make my body tingle sexually
As I become one with your crunkness
Circle my delicious, exquisite lips around
Your long and rigid shaft

Take all your hardness into my system
Let you grip my eager, firm twin peaks
Squeeze and tease my bare ***** tips
Make me crave your unparalleled praiseworthy rareness

Take in your treasured muscular perfection
As I fiercely **** your firmness
Feel you reach your ******
And squirt your rich **** milk
All over my charming chocolate lips
Travis Green Nov 2022
Let me feel the immensity
Of your savage smashing instrument
Deep in my flawless flowery factory
Craft your rare black magic within me
Bewitch me, tease me, keep me in your closeness

Shake your big thick meat
Then squeeze it back in me
Give me your incomprehensible
And menacing sensuousness
Search through my huts

Excite me, spank me, put your game on me
Captivate and obliterate my gayness
Ride me like a top-notch snow-white stallion
Push your best-selling action-packed package
Further into my moist, tempting hotness

Communicate with my inner space
Make my creation shake frantically
Romance my inspiring and shining voluptuosity
Make my bite-worthy eye-candy cheeks
Bounce against your masterfully
Bedazzling and strapping flesh

*** me up with your hypnotically
Heart-stopping eloquence
With your unflinching steamy masculinity
Serve me your spectacularity
Go deep into my precious perfumed palace
Of remarkably eye-grabbing attractions

Hot off the press effective pleasurer
Handwrite your desirable inviting delightsomeness
Into my bright, mesmerizing entireness
Make my muscles twitch
Make me release booming oohs and aahs

Feel your rigid thrilling bigness
Break into my insides
Make me sweaty as ****
While I feel your ample considerable force
You watch me give in to thee

The way you impale thee
***** deep in my swollen sweetness
Cause my eyes to roll
Cause me to ***** your massive, supernatural arms
To maintain my balance

You feel so ******* amazing in me
With your hands on my belly
With your ******* meshed with my walls
Giving me all your rude groovy hugeness
You gyrate in me

You play around with my perfect magical playground
Irresistibly fascinating sensation
You give me grand measureless pleasure
Make my nerve endings convulse
With your earth-shaking and pulsating pulchritude

You are so delicious and unpredictable
So threatening to my homosexualness
I breathe your splashy, incomparable, and
Legendary breeziness into my system
Bask in thee, feel thee creep into my source of glorious secrets

Send the tenderness of my existence
Give me your long, bomb sausage
More and more, let me embrace
Your earthbound, glorified storm
Your tremendous and effective stamina

The way you ****** my sumptuous man ****
Make me gaze in awe at thee
How you take me away from me
Make me do anything to please my king
Give you my world

Let you disturb every fraction of my guts
Feel your rapid-fire verbal electricity
Feel your wild sinister tongue flick
All over my ****** hypnotic flesh
Go crazy in the depths of my gayness
Let me be confined to your powerfully divine flex

Feel you disassemble my dimension
With my mouth wide open
Trying to take it like a champ
As you devastate every ounce of my softness
Make my limbs move everywhere
Squirt your sweet, bubbly man milk
On my arched, vulnerable back
Neon lights broadcast sold out show of one Matthew Scott
expert stage craft presents quotidian  shows without sound
sole audience  forcibly revisits this biography performance
private owner lifetime supply of entire stock season tickets
(to one smash box office hit after another improvisational)
lightning speed mime hologram flashes life capsule oeuvre  
corpus trials and tribulations indelibly recorded upon spool
sibilant auditory oohs and aahs from vindictive ultimatums
only one take each scene despite personal abysmal reviews
and serious consideration to hire professional management
accompanying actor, director, producer, projectionist writer
kept preserved upon cranial medium - so called gray matter
extant within the guarded and private repository Fort Knox
until the eventual disintegration from cumulative memories
become totally obscured with the thickening fogs of old age
and the curtain comes down on the final act upon  mortality!
Travis Green Dec 2022
Your fiery electrifying style
Makes my head spin
Makes me punchy
Your hunkiness encompasses me
When your fun-loving
And jumping crunkness
Runs through my sweetly perfumed tunnel

Make me hear your alluring voices
In my deepest mind
Feel your juicy rock-solid pecs
Your magically eye-catching abs
Your moist, limber arms envelop
My **** celestial flesh

Hairy vigorous big hitter
Your hard warm hands
Touch my lovely, vulnerable *****
I feel your push your slick sexing *******
Deep in my ***** guts

Make me feel your boundlessly
Stupendous energy
Feel you torture my core
Bang me in every prominent salient angle
Hold my legs wide open

****** your dangerously badass muscle into my innerness
Grasp my throat, kiss me intensely
Make me swirl in your sexually arousing storm
Feel my world crash and burn
For your unconquerable sauciness

Feel your blazing radiant manliness
Penetrate my wetness
Make me holla while you collar
My mind, body, and soul
Give me your breeziness and splashiness

Move your bright, appetizing lips
All over my silken sweet thighs and legs
Listen to my oohs and aahs
How you captivate, nail, and rescale
My tastefully stretchable vessel

Make my heartland come apart
Demolish my homoness
Make me fantasize about
Your red-hot legendary entrancingness
Gaze deep into my large lovestruck eyes
As you take over my desirableness

Make me lose it when you get rude with it
Don’t play with it, **** it up
Make my seductive structure shudder
Make me feen for your supremeness
To be in the wicked keen extremities
Sinful soul-stirring litness

Feel my existence become detached from reality
While you grab my attention
Do damage to my sexiness
Rock my wondrous softness
Let me swim into infinity
With your transcendently sensual and steamy dreaminess

Put it on me extra sexually
Let me feel your sizzling sting
Feel your untamed banging hurricane
Terrorizing my domain
Rove through my heart and soul

Make me so bowled over by
Your dope-*** showiness
I hanker to see your perspire
See you stare at me wildly
Take me higher into the night

Poke me, smoke me, rope me
Into your crash-hot popping potency
Keep your huge veined hands
On my alluringly splendid body
Deconstruct my puzzle

Shock my nerve cells
Capture me in your impassioned, smashing majesty
Bust your luscious **** milk
In the iridescent, picturesque waves
Of my impressive inner space
Ashlyn Rimsky Jan 2020
when i tell my mom
"i have a date tonight"
she has one comment:
"whatever you do,
DON'T wear THAT
old sweater
with the geese all over
or THOSE
brown horse hoove shoes
CLANGING like the kentucky derby
with each step
those ones that the bottoms fell out of"
i sigh, wrap the phone cord around my neck
HANG it up, on the shelf
my hope, dignity, cares, whatever
LOOK, a chest
masked by geese flock
feet turned to hooves
a MATING DISPLAY
that only ever works
the lady in the mirror
when she looks
she sees the tips of mountain tops
etched in leather
is taken back to times
where the only sound
was the clank of boots on ground
        the scrape of rocks
        sun on face
where the only sound
was geese on the water
        no where else to be
        but right here, right now
where the only sound
was the ooh and aahs
         of my best friend
         with a big pearly smile
         when i dug it out
         of the giant blue bin
         at the pay-by-the-pound
         laughing while we spun
         theories of eldery ladies
         of its PAST
she mouths to me
"i like your birdleneck"
i mouth to her
"i like you"
and walk out the door
Lexa Apr 2020
Berries, bursting brilliantly with color, nature’s
perfect package, miniature, refreshing, oh so sweet,
staining away the grey, breathing life into the mundane.

Soaps, fancy shapes exploding with hidden gems, a gourmet feast
for the eyes and senses, ice cream for the skin,
nourishing the wounds of routine, soothing emotional pangs.

Essential oils, aromas wafting, bringing cheer and warmth
throughout the house.  Just a touch, merely a few drops, invisible
yet calming, nurturing.  Precisely like love.

My treasures may not hide behind large gates, protected
by a price tag, a dream but for a few, ostentatious,
dazzling, commanding oohs and aahs.

But my abundances light me up.  I glow amongst the stars.
A cherry on top, the icing on the cake,
an ambiance of royalty, these small luxuries create.
Commuter Poet Jan 2020
Perfectly round
No matter which way you turn me
I hold my shape

Inside of me
I hold the air
And my surface is smooth and curved

I can sway in the breeze
And float on the currents
I can inspire your gasps and your wonderment

Your oohs and aahs
But don’t touch me
Or I will implode

Vanish in a second
Be here
Then not

I will release the air inside me
And will no longer keep
The wider world at bay

I will be gone forever
And it will be
Like I never existed

I am a bubble
And while I am here
I am beautiful

But come close to me
And
Pop
10th Jan 2020

— The End —