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Pagan Paul Oct 2017
.
Come! Come! One and all,
come to my woodland hall,
attend ye all mid-winters ball,
in friendship harken to my call.

Paths awash with candle light,
in the branches burning bright,
such an enchanting magical sight,
to guide you gentle through the night.

Friends with whom to drink and eat,
cuddled warm in a sylvan heat,
while dancers fling to keep the beat,
songs are sung, lovers meet.

And by a fire in a little glade,
words are spoken, promises made,
the Bonding tree with hearts displayed,
brings memories that will never fade.

.

And when the party is at an end
I'll lovingly embrace my dearest friend,
and quieter than what lies beneath,
whisper sweet poetry to my Lady Leaf.



© Pagan Paul (04/10/17)
.
Poem 6, Series 2 of my Lord of Green collection.
.
Fiona Runs Sep 2016
she stood there on the side
blond curls bouncing with pride

Get it! Get it!
arms flung about announcing
pink shoes and blue jeans worn
with attitude of a more senior form

Get it! Get it!
before it’s too late
Get it! Get it!
the tide won’t wait

orange ball floating
being drawn in and out
as she stood there ordering
and starting to shout

a small group are playing
and arranging their roles
for a future life being
determined by personalities bold

Get it! Get it!
as blue shoes are soaked
in salty water and laughter provoked
all ends in happy joyfulness neat

but some are more happy
with their dry feet
John Stevens Jan 2015
(c) 01-25-15
The cold has come
What once was green , now brown.
The air is cool
Promise of Spring to come.

Boys are gathered
Practice begins
for the games
to see who wins.

The ball is passed
Ball aloft at last.
Through the hoop
the points are cast.

They finesse the ball
as they pass and trick.
To out wit the opponent
as the clock does tick.

They win they lose
this season thus far.
Led by great coaches
has been better than par.

When the games are done
whether lost or won.
It is all in the fun
As they have a great run.
Basketball is upon us. The bleachers are hard but the fun is great.

Has been 6500 reads.
11-18-16.   16,100 times
12-21-16.   17,200 times
07-28-17.  28,300 times
05-18-18.   42,400 times
10-15-18   48,400 times
Who in the world is reading this?

Version called "Baseball"
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1583323/baseball/
Autumn Jul 2016
Abandoned, round, and a beige off-white--
gallivanting along the curb, what a random sight.

One strong gust of wind, and oh Lord!
The yoga ball will shimmy head on with a Ford!

Will it pop, bounce, or cause a heart attack?
I should've snagged it for my future 6-pack.

Thank you, oh rogue yoga ball, that dwell in the street--
for a smile in my soul and this random sight here on the concrete.
Thankful for something to smile about.
FireheartFading Dec 2018
Feeling...
Ceiling...
Crush another can,
Something wonderful!
Wasted now,
Broken house...

Yeah...

Defeat,
Concrete...
Take another hit,
And it's all complete,
Just **** me,
Oh,  **** me...

Yeah...

Can't you see?
It's my creed,
Blood red seas,
So permanently!
And this is me!
Oh, this is me...

Yeah...

Sunlight,
So bright,
I think about a day,
I've never had my rights!
I'm Equal,
And Unequal...

Yeah...

Shadow ball!
Oh,  shadow ball,
Tell me why I never
Had faith at all!
Just let me sleep,
Oh, let me sleep,

Yeah...

Oh, Hashish,
And *****,
I can't imagine when
I've ever felt so numb!
Just guide me,
And hide me...

Yeah...

It's something new,
And something *******,
A form of happiness
I never thought I'd brew,
But still, I knew,
Oh, I knew...

Yeah...

Shadow ball,
Oh, shadow ball,
Tell me why I never
Had faith at all!
Just let me feel,
And leave me be...

Yeah...
About my favorite combination.  I call them shadow *****.
Tyler Skidmore Dec 2018
I see
Fields
Mountains
Forests
Desert
And in all of these I see
You
Lovely
The most perfect lips
Betraying a smile as I compare your height to an acorn on the forest floor
Hands laced in mine almost
Sewn
They don't let go
The very life moving between the cells
So perfectly fit like jigsaw pieces
Complete
Perfect
The warmth transferred like light through an open window on the soft furry coat
Our cat
One of many
Loving
Our alone time confidant
Cuddly
Soothing
Much like our bodies
Under the covers
Tightly bound together with a magnetic force
Love
Safety
Our lips locking
The most beautiful flavor
Passion
Love
Commitment
Trust
Support
All spoken silently breath by breath
All this I see
In those deep
Beautiful
Mossy
Homely
Eyes
Salmabanu Hatim Oct 2018
Eventually  the ball is
always in Allah's Court.
HE is the last one to judge you.
Khoi-San Oct 2018
From the edge of decay
A brilliant return
Life is hard PERSEVERANCE  pays off
Keep your eye on the ball
CK Baker Oct 2017
dust cloud heavy
in an apricot sky
cottonwood mucker
under ambrose pale
whippet and shepherd
mill at the earth patch
yellow birch hangs
over red bench park

combine shavings
in ***** rust brown
scissors chips
fall to the back stop
whiskey jack looters
sing patented chords
siblings (and 2 wheel enthusiasts)
give thanks

joyous retrievers
master the criss cross
bare maples stand
at settlers way
barred owl and blue jay
whistle the fore-wind
ghosts
and goblins
pull at the seeds

wind gusts belt
over the west gulch
blood rush churns
in a chilling fall morn
hallowed grounds still
at the midday
quiet reflections
of the afghan
and hound

jumpers unite
at the oxbow
route runners bend
(on a sultry foray!)
meadows exposed
in the framework
ball park empty
with pennants past

barrel dirt favors
the brew house
crimson and copper
find bracken ridge gate
harvest hands savor
the honey and hops
blankets of color
for a winter's hatch

brush fire kept
under steady peruse
bark bites fly
and embers glow
pine cones drop
from timber tops
3 wick candles
set the dinner place

shiver and ******
at the piper's call
cob web dew
on shadowy gates
a chilled mist mellows
the season's return ~
poets and artists
and dreamers awake
Woody Oct 2018
In Tennessee where the liquor’s
tax free, the pool halls never close
except on Sundays, until one or so
and you don’t have to look too hard
for a tavern where the music wears sharp
knuckles, and the dancers all dance in
sharp toed boots, you know, I’ll never
leave here where the Creek flows so cold
and sings solo to the chalk-white moon
so full and low, it makes me want to break a rack and shoot without a scratch, an
Eight Ball in my right side pocket, my cue
a rolled up tight Ben Franklin or two. Yo.
;)
has the dawn overslept?
her shut windows remain unlit;
night still has a ball.
Zachery Oct 2018
I'll walk down the halls
Hand in Hand
Ready to take a stand
Music of macabre origin then plays
"This dance if I may?"
I wear my best noose.
So obviously Obtuse
This ball
Is the ultimate call
For the crazy's
To have a death day party
Our lives never were so hearty.
Shoes made of razor blades
Bloodied nursemaids
Punch is spiked with cyanide
To evoke a lethal tide
Pop a pill maybe 4
That way there is less gore
Less to clean
Please don't be mean
Knives glitter darkly
Our faces grimaced tartly
Cut and slice
Stab and dice
Blood will fall
And run down the halls
For you see my dear
Do not fear
For in these halls
Lurks the suicidal ball.
Suicidal Ball is my fave to write.
Bryan Lunsford May 2018
With a rush of burning desires,
I turn your world, as I touch you, into a ball of fire,

With our sweat that falls (in this room of degrees creeping higher and higher)
I slip off your bra, and proceed to ***** you from the rest of your attire,

As with a look in your eyes that's electric as a live wire,
The grip of my hands around the curves of your frame become tighter and tighter,

And there, with thuds of the baseboard knocking at the wall, here, I treat this moment ever so dire,

Where I pull you in close--in this room full of yearning fire,

And make love to you--
With my body full of rushing--burning desires
April May 11
If you were ten years younger, and I were fifteen years older.

I would have my glass of champagne clinked your beer bottle
and whisper to you: “The Tigers will win the next game, don’t worry”.

I would put the carrot cupcake on which I’d had a bite already
on your plate and say: “I want to trade it for the popsicle in your hand.”

I would point at the dazzling lights in the darkness while leaning on the railing
and ask:  “Can your house be seen from the roof?”

I would invite you to an eight-ball when I was tipsy
so you could see my rapt expression and bent-over body
then come next to me and say: "Let me show you how to hold the cue stick."
Every time I inquire /  ask
Can u be the magic 8 ball
But a white ball
Because I like my magic man with a
White ball hahah
Who grants yes or no
To my question that's
Life important
Bardo Oct 2018
Gloom! Gloom! Gloom!
I can't see the Room for the Gloom
Is there anything else in this Room...
   but Gloom ?
How can I bloom with all this Gloom
   in the Room ?
How can I find my Vroom Vroom ?
I start a poem "Too soon! Too soon!"
And then it stops
And then there's Gloom
Fetch me a Broom that I might sweep
   away all this Gloom
If only there was something else in the
   Room... if only.

Doom! Doom! Doom!
How did you get in the Room ?
Who let the Doom in ?
The Doom is in the Room... Again!!!
Doom! Leave the Gloom alone
Doom!! Put the Gloom down
Doom!!! I'm warning you now!

Shall I fume, shall I fume ?
Locked in here with the Gloom and
   Doom
No! I shan't fume
They'd only say he's too far goon
   (ouch!)
What I need is a boom, a big big
   Boom!
A Big Bang a boom boom Boom!
A Boom BOOM enough to fill the
   whole Room
With that kind of BOOM!
I could take off to the Moon
Then I'd sing a different tune
There'd be no more Gloom and Doom.

But then, where would they go, what
   would they do
Poor old Gloom and Little Doomy
They'd be out there in the cold with
   nowhere to go
Lost without any Roomy
They'd be looking in the window at me
   all sad and teary
My poor Old Gloom and my poor Little
   Doomy.

No! I love my Old Gloom and, I love
   my Little Doomy
I know what I'll do
I'll put the Boom in my Room with my
   Gloom and my Doom
And then we'll all have ourselves a
   HUGE party
A Big Blooming Booming Gloomy
    Doomy
A Big Bang a Bang a Boom Boom
   Boomy Doomy
We'll all have a Ball in no time at all
Down at the Old Gloom and Doomy.
A bit of fun for Halloween.
Billion brilliant stars,
My neurons are having fun;
At cosmos’s expense!
Francie Lynch Mar 11
On the Emerald Isle when the brier's green,
Occur strange sights seldom seen.
There's golden rainbows and small clay pipes,
And wee folk dancing every night.

I've heard stories of the leprechaun, but
Before you see 'em they're surely gone.
Yet one green misty night in the brier,
I saw them jigging round the fire.

Sean and I were in green Irish woods,
Gathering shamrocks and just being good.
While searching near a hidden creek,
We heard faint giggles from fifty feet.

Near the giggles grew a small green fire,
Perhaps six inches high - no higher.
We crouched low for a better look,
To our surprise we saw a small green cook.

He wore a tall green hat and pulled-up socks,
And stirred a *** of simmering shamrocks.
Smoke curled from his pipe of clay,
Why, I remember his grin still today.

A band of gold encircled his brim,
My little finger seemed bigger than him.
He had golden buckles and a puggish nose,
Glimmering eyes and curly toes.

Sweet music floated on wings of air,
Fifty-one leprechauns were dancing near.
They passed the poteen with a smack of their lips,
As each in turn took a good Gaelic sip.

Suddenly the gaiety quickly slowed down.
Sure we were that we'd been found.
But they all looked north with reverent faces,
Bowed their heads, stood still in their places.

The banshee's wailing was heard afar,
O'erhead the Death Coach had a full car.
The wee folk respect, it must be said,
Erin's children when they're dead.

Soon flying fast through the green night air,
We spied King Darby hurrying near.
He rode atop his beloved steed,
O'er dales and glens, woods and mead.

His hummingbird lighted on a leaf,
And all the wee folk knelt beneath.
With a golden smile he waved to all,
To officially begin The Leprechaun Ball.

Tiny green fiddlers fiddled their fiddles,
That sounded just like ten thousand giggles.
Dancers danced on mists of green,
Pipers piped, but none were seen.

They danced and ate and passed the ladle,
And kicked up their heels to Irish reels.
We enjoyed the sight late into the night,
But suddenly they gave us a terrible fright.

They saw us cowering behind the trees,
So they cast a spell which made us freeze.
We'd heard what happens to caught spies,
That now are spiders, toads or flies.

Well, old King Darby drew us near,
Sean and I were in a terrible fear.
With a grin and a snap he made us small,
And requested our presence at the Leprechaun Ball.

We reeled and laughed with our new found friends,
'Til the green mist lifted to signal the end.
With a glean in his eye the good King said:
'Tis sure'n the hour yous be abed.

He waved his shillelagh to return our height,
Wished us well and bade good-night.
And as they rode the winds away
I suddenly remembered it was St. Patrick's Day.

I'm sure the lot of you think me a blarney liar, but that night I assure you
I danced 'round a green fire.
Repost: Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone.
Audrey Sep 2018
A poet is no more than a person
A mother
A daughter
A lover  
Someone needing release
Or someone needing to recover


It’s the art they create when that ball of ink or stick of led dances on the canvas they so perfectly prepared.
And when the end result and their purpose become perfectly paired.
Maia Vasconez May 2018
1.He’d say anything to get me out of my shell.
2. His pupils are hard, black marbles and I want to flick him off of me.
3. He is always shuffling through women like they are a deck of cards.
4. It’s just how the dice rolls.
5. I was afraid of falling, of my arms snapping like wishbones.
6. He waits until I’m swaying like a door hinge.
7. My eyes are wide like 8 ***** and he hits me with that same click, roll, thunk of a pool ball table.
8. You are cursing me. When you yell, you are cursing me.
9. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…”
10. I hope the bruises on your legs turn into birds. I hope you get out of here.
This is for anyone whose ever been hurt by a man
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