"carnegie" poems
worlds converge in a papercup
come, come you on the tambourine
me on the harmonica
let's make music without the adjectives
let's live on the jingle-jangle of coins
tara na! this pavement
is our carnegie; metaphors
sans adverbs -- no illusions, no fantasies.
you and me and this street --
dancing like gypsies on a prairie
later tonight, while the moon watches over
we'll upstage the stars
with **** adverbs & adjectives
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
***Put on your yamaka, it's time for Hanukkah
So much fun-akkah to celebrate Hanukkah,
Hanukkah is the Festival of Lights,
Instead of one day of presents, we have eight crazy nights.
But when you're the only kid in town without a Christmas tree, Heres a list of
people who are Jewish, just like you and me:
David Lee Roth lights the menorah,
So do James Caan, Kirk Douglas, and the late Dinah Shore-ah
Guess who eats together at the Carnegie Deli,
Bowzer from Sha-na-na, and Arthur Fonzerrelli.
Paul Newman's half Jewish; Goldie Hawn's half too,
Put them together--what a fine lookin’ Jew! [Esus]
You dont need Deck the Halls or Jingle Bell Rock
Cause you can spin a dreidel with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock--both Jewish!
[Esus]
Put on your yamaka, its time for Hanukkah,
The owner of the Seattle Super Sonic-ah celebrates Hanukkah.
O.J. Simpson-- not a Jew!
But guess who is...Hall of Famer—Rod Carew--(he converted!)
We got Ann Landers and her sister Dear Abby,
Harrison Ford's a quarter Jewish--not too shabby!
Some people think that Ebeneezer Scrooge is,
Well, hes not, but guess who is: All three stooges. [Esus]
So many Jews are in show biz--
Tom Cruise isn't, [tacit] but I heard his agent is. [Esus]
Tell your friend Veronica, its time to celebrate Hanukkah
I hope I get a harmonica, on this lovely, lovely Hanukkah.
So drink your gin-a-tonic-ah, and smoke your mara-juanic-ah,
If you really, really wanna-kah, Have a happy, happy, happy, happy
Hanukkah……. HAPPY HANUKKAH!***
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
In the corner collecting dust all alone
This violin has seen fame being entertaining and full blown
The violin has played Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall
It even has seen all over the world by all
The violin even played solo behind various themes
A violin voice of melody of its own
But years of neglect into the dust years
There is no preserver
The violin’s time has come an sad end
Sits with no purpose
A violin that enthused the world
Now forgotten strings
The violin had the spotlight doing its thing
Alone now, but the violin proved without a doubt
It showed what music was all about.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 1:14 PM UTC
She was our first grandchild
And naturally
We loved her dearly
And I adored her
As only grand-dads can
And she latched onto me
She used to come to us every Tuesday
At a time when kids are most interesting
She was fully conversational
(Didn't we all know it)
Her personality was emerging
And she was still young enough
To have her originality and imagination
My little gold mine of joy
And this is how it would go
"Grand-dad, you be the shop keeper
And I'll bring my dollies in for clothes."
So she would lay out her doll's outfits
And bring her dolls forward to buy clothes
She would haggle over the price (and win)
And pay me in cardboard coins
"Let's watch a video, Grand-dad!
Let's watch Barny!" (Again)
I hate that ****** purple dinosaur
And Katie thinks he's wonderful
That smarmy voice of his
"I love you and you love me,"
I bleeding don't you know
I wouldn't let him within a hundred miles
Of any kids of mine.
In the course of the day
I would be called upon
To play multiple parts in
Everything from The Three Bears
To Little Red Riding Hood
In which I memorably became
Big Bad Wolf and Grandma
And presumably ate myself
But the highlight of the day
Was the last thing before she went home
The weekly show
"Introduce me, Grand-dad!"
In my best showman's voice
"Ladies and gentlemen...!"
To my wife and dog
"...The moment you've been waiting for.
Fresh from her recent tour
Of our back garden.....
Miss Katie......."
"Katie Spice, Grand-dad."
"Miss Katie SPICE!"
Into some popular ditty of the day
Issuing from her at full volume
Then she would stop mid-line
While she did a little dance step
All greeted by thunderous applause
In her head it was Carnegie Hall
Rather than my wife, my dog and me
So, a happy end to a happy day
Then Katie went home
And I slipped into an exhausted coma
By Phil Roberts
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 4:47 AM UTC
Ruby Jeffords was cutting a rug
To the music played by hubby Bub.
Four guitars and a moonshine jug,
Bass fiddle made from a wash tub.
And the music they play is not
Headed out for Carnegie Hall.
While it may not be sophisticated
Everyone is having a ball.
There’s two stepping and stomp
And a lot of big cowboy hats.
It’s a country and western romp
And it don’t get better than that.
The fiddle player is sawing
Like he’s cutting a cord of wood.
The onlookers are clapping hands.
They’d all join in if they could.
And the music they play is not
Headed out for Carnegie Hall.
While it may not be sophisticated
Everyone is having a ball.
The dance floor is so crowded
Some people just sit this one out.
But they add to the joy and spirit
Because they clap loud and shout.
They feel the music and tap toes
Falling into the music and beat.
Bub playing, and Ruby dancing
Everybody tapping their feet.
Ruby Jeffords was cutting a rug
To the music played by hubby Bub.
Four guitars and a moonshine jug,
Bass fiddle made from a wash tub.
And the music they play is not
Headed out for Carnegie Hall.
While it may not be sophisticated
Everyone is having a ball.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
I believe in predestination like a hard cover
book lying open underneath a ceiling fan. I believe
in imagination unfettered like the wheels
of a bike kicking up rain. I believe in tasting
everything like the teething puppy chewing
all the furniture. I believe in arrangements
like the photographer with no camera. I believe
in impetus like the dry clump of dirt that erupts
into fine powder because of a little tension
in between your fingers. I believe in relevance
like the poetry addict who wants to ask Emily
Dickinson where she got her cardigan. I believe
in economy like Curiosity who found her way
home by following the trail of cat crumbs she left earlier.
I believe in complacency like the larkspur
in love with a promiscuous hummingbird.
I believe in delusion like the saxophone player
who can’t distinguish Carnegie Hall
from the subway station.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 9:53 PM UTC
Old paths cross new paths on Broadway
Christmas lights on carnegie's bricks,
I'm lost but I know it's not Tuesday
Old homes give me funny faces-today is
Wednesday, and no one is here with me.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
I may never be a Nolan Ryan fastball pitcher,
But I can play any position the coach asks of me and I’m a helluva hitter.
Try to be a sponge in everything I do,
Resourcefulness, Adaptability and Work Ethic are your conquest clues.
So make every second count young person!!
Wear your heart on your sleeve..express yourself for all to see!!!
And as **Dale Carnegie once said…Be the better person and don’t worry about anyone talking incompetence
Cause “Unjust criticism is often a disguised complement”!
-K.E. Carman
** Dale Carnegie – How to win friends and influence people
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
Somethings last longer when kept in cool dry places
and I for one have found the perfect resting place,
surrounded by plenty of taken up shelf space
where I can store up my strength, and sit contented
in this inspired, quiet space, amongst the bookcases
where we are encouraged to slow our pace
in the long-lasting embrace of Carnegie’s generous bequest.
Yes, we’re blessed with quiet, at least for the most part,
apart from the softly voiced query and help at the desk,
apart from the dad reading aloud and reading time’s louder address
to cross legged, momentarily suppressed younger guests.
It’s quiet apart from the regular swish of the obliging doorway
swinging wide its welcome followed by
the vital wipe of wet feet on the new red mat,
punctuated by the unsnapping of buggy straps
and empathetic mum to mum picked-up-from-last-time chats.
It’s quiet apart from the regular slap of scrabble tiles,
clicking knitting needles
and the long considered placing of a jigsaw piece
accompanied by a contented creak
of a chair as someone adjusts a numbing *** cheek.
It’s quiet apart from the buzz of book clubs and poetry recitals
exchanging much treasured lines and long loved titles.
It’s quiet apart from the beep of books returned or issued out
under the arms of rested readers, no doubt
heading home to their own cool dry places,
reading lamps and carefully positioned comfy chairs.
It’s quiet apart from the spoken thankfulness of readers young and old,
each enjoying spending time within the fold
of this, our beloved Hanwell Community Library.
Apr 1, 2023
Apr 1, 2023 at 2:32 AM UTC
...I am Kevin's needy self.. scratching the walls.
Holed up in my Key West hotel room and the walls are closing in,
pacing the walls of my mind.
Drinking my naked self into a coma, ****** in and out all weekend,
papers and empty bottles littering the floor and tables.
All to die like the best and go out like a pro,
gone mad, gone crazy in paradise.
Lying in my ***** visions of you walking on my vacant mind,
myself in question and my soul on exit.
I love you and baby you will find me in my glory,
tequila is a fine way to flame out.
In my blind drunkenness, I see my Grandfather before me in his Police Uniform drinking on 85th and Carnegie, hiding his sin in 1925. His will to choose overcoming any logic. His desire to lie about his age to fight the Germans when he was 16. Seeing too much death in France to ever talk about and fading out while I view him saying a gentle goodbye when we both knew it was the last time I would see him alive.
I come to laying on the floor in my ***** The warm air flowing in from the open front door. I am sticking to the ***** carpet and the smell is making me dry heave. I have lived a life, but I know I need to find Aine. She is my blood and I will die or **** myself slowly if we are not united soon. Its an act of desperation, too many ***** and ****** to fill the void. Never fulfilled and always needing more. I can’t lie to myself any longer. The lie burns into my eyes and soul, not to be ignored. She is there, we breathe in the same world. Her smalls hands and beautiful eyes always around the corner.
I’ll recover from this moment like I always do, but one of these times I won’t get up. I’ll die like a pro, in my crazy. I am desperate for the air , to breathe her into me. Breathing in life, my sweet Aine.
KT Mar 27,2014
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
I got
sixteen red bars criss
cross this arm 'cause
sixteen times I've
played this song on the forearm of my left violin.
Felt the blade bite my skin
as red half notes dot marble white sheets.
I felt my heart sing its melody
as I poured myself onto the page.
I remember the first time I played.
My hands shook with anticipation. I
was so excited,
my hand slipped on the first note.
The blade, grazed my skin,
cut just deep enough to keep me coming back for more.
I got a few scars from when mama
told me she didn't love me. Those scars
are hidden deep inside, etched into the very
fiber of my being.
I got a few more scars when the
kids at school told me I was too
dark to be something. I remember running
blind into bathroom stalls, hating these hands for what they were about to do.
Hating these hands because they were mine.
I played my solo for an audience of none, one if you count God looking
down from heaven begging me to stop.
I remember looking through fogged over eyes as the
world shuffled by. They saw my hand under the bathroom stall
and they just
kept
walking.
No one stopped to rescue me.
I got a few more scars from the first man I gave my heart.
He held on just a little too tight,
left marks where his fingers were.
He took my wrist and held it too tight.
He started to play but it wasn't right. He didn't
understand the
fine nuances of my
tendons and ligaments.
He pushed the blade too deep,
snapped chords and left me unable to play.
I think he left the deepest marks. They
still haven't completely healed, and some days
I can still feel blood trickle
down my arm.
I got sixteen red bars criss
cross this arm 'cause
sixteen times I've played this song on the forearm on my left violin.
I think seventeen would have been the end.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
The cardigans have invaded Carnegie Hall
Flickering in the reflection of an antique disco ball
The piano keys tremble in fear
Of the beauty no one will hear
Dulled out through a clash of commotion
Rumbling in the raging ocean
Stomping their feet in senseless rhythm
Leaving wayward elbows to cause a schism
The violins bellow noise
The band play with their toys
Everyone seems perfectly content
Forgetting how much money they spent
Waiting for one lasting memory.
Something akin to 'Discovery'
Then as the precipice reaches the sun
A fire alarm cause everyone to run.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
A female concert pianist
is playing at Carnegie Hall in Manhattan
Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and
Debussy’s Clair de Lune and
other romantic melodies
which soothe the aching modern hearts
of her modern urban audience.
She’s 35 and still unmarried.
She’s never met a romantic man
who loves her
like she enjoys being loved:
Romantically like the Moonlight Sonata and
Claire de Lune.
It’s difficult to find a loving husband
in an unromantic world.
During the concert
in breaks between playing pieces
she longingly scans the audience
for a handsome romantic single man
who’s waiting to love her
like she enjoys being loved:
Romantically like the Moonlight Sonata and
Clair de Lune;
but all she sees are couples, mostly old.
It’s difficult to find a loving husband
in an unromantic world.
After the concert
on the taxi-ride to her hotel
the bubble of romantic melodies has burst
and she inures herself once more
to the modern car-horns and truck-roars
of busy city streets.
It’s difficult to find a loving husband
in an unromantic world.
She gazes out the taxi window
at modern urban pedestrians
hustling and bustling on crowded sidewalks
rushing to their business appointments
ambitious for their career success.
It’s difficult to find a loving husband
in an unromantic world.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 4:59 AM UTC
Drove 75 miles each way
To see Colbie Callait,
Somewhere in Connecticut,
That was back
In 2009,
Maybe 2010,
Maybe 2011.
Enjoyed it immensely,
Other than
The only thing
Older than me
At the concert
Was the building
It was held in.
And everybody at work made fun of me.
Took my woman
Downtown to the
High Line Ballroom
A few years back,
Edwin McCain,
He sang
I'll Be.
It was fine,
Other than
I was the tallest person
Standing on line.
Last year
Danced on a conga line
Led by Pink Martini,
At Carnegie Hall.
Ain't embarrassed to admit,
They dragged me from my front row seat,
Kicking n' screaming,
Hope nobody was videotaping!
At the Beacon on Broadway,
Saw Paul Simon and
Straight No Chaser,
And I would do it again in a
A Capella second.
This year,
High up at Lincoln Center,
Overlooking Central Park and
My city sparkling,
Saw Ingrid Michaelson singing,
It's OK.
She was giggling,
Cause it was so fun, for her,
To act so grown up.
Her parents and sisters
Even came to see her.
Sometime ago saw Marc Cohn, singing,
Don't remember when, don't recall,
Walking in Memphis,
Even tho both of us were at
City Center on West Forty Third Street.
At the City Winery,
In NoHo
Don Felder did Hotel California,
Went to the backstage partee
Cause I was around when
he first penned it,
When he was still part of the Eagles.
For an old geezer,
Born in 1901,
I'm pretty cool,
Despite the occasional mistake.
But I know better than to go to see
Justin Bieber,
Way too cool for that,
So those ticket to
Taylor Swift,
Ripped,
Having never seen
the light of day,
I think I even pretended to
Throw them away...
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
Sometimes when people can’t see you for whom you are,
They try to force you to be someone you really aren’t.
Real beauty is being true to oneself, Not by trying to be someone your not
A flower cannot change its color nor can Spring become Fall.
*Don’t lose the person you really are
Because you are you and only you;
The mold was broke when they formed your star
Cheer up young one don’t be blue*
I once knew a boy who always bought shoes two sizes larger,
Because he couldn’t bare the ridicule of having small feet.
You see, when you were conceived, genetically you became one of kind.
There’s no else like you, and believe it or not we all have physical imperfections.
*Don’t lose the person you really are
Because you are you and only you;
The mold was broke when they formed your star
Cheer up young one don’t be blue*
I once knew a boy who was thin as a stalk of corn,
And he if turned sideways and stuck out his tongue, He looked like a zipper.
He would get teased unmercifully, but if he had done just one think different,
Because when you laugh at your own flaws, disparagement and criticism are defeated.
*Don’t lose the person you really are
Because you are you and only you;
The mold was broke when they formed your star
Cheer up young one don’t be blue*
**Happiness doesn’t depend on any external conditions,
it is governed by our mental attitude ~Dale Carnegie**
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 5:06 PM UTC
*When listening to the sound of the piano
and the violins all together,
a feeling overwhelms.
I'm driving by houses and blurs of trees,
being blackened by my eye lids
and is now replaced by a glossy grand piano.
Looking to the lower key range
the keys begin to softly hold chords.
It plays the silence with wonder and ambition.
Double the octave the keys begin to play faster.
A rift, a melody of the stars
they dance with a three part harmony.
The scene transforms to a luminous meadow,
flowers bloom and colors burst while
the melody lifts with the violin soothing,
mixing with a sound of passion.
The violins stroke up and down.
Crystals fall from the sky
swirling with the intensity of the music.
The sun begins to fall,
the stars, times a billion illuminate the sky.
I am now walking toward a light.
My eyes open to find myself in Carnegie Hall,
my fingers travel lightly over the smooth
piano keys and it takes over once more.*
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 5:23 AM UTC
We as humans tend to put off living,
Forgetting to take the time to smell the proverbial roses.
You know the ones that grow just outside your front door?
Take a few minutes, close your eyes and begin to breathe again.
Celebrating life each day is a rite of passage.
It’s a virtue our creator gifted us with.
It makes ones soul fulfilled and allows us to project a positive energy.
So reach out…And feel the earth move while your inner self embraces the Universe
If you have forgotten how to listen to the birds song or the grasshoppers chirp,
Or to observe a sleepy orange caterpillar crawl to the next branch,
Or watch the cutthroat trout sip a spent mayfly from the surface of a stream,
Then the earth is calling you to return to your conception!!
Stop dreaming of the magical rose garden and enjoy the roses blooming outside your windows today - Dale Carnegie
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
I want to sit and eat ice cream
Until I can’t eat any more.
I want wake up late each day
Until I can’t sleep any more.
I want to take people out to eat
At the most expensive places
And watch the joy spread out
All over each of their faces.
I don’t want to seem greedy
So don’t go off in a huff.
I don’t want an excess of things.
Really, I want just enough.
Just enough to buy presents
For the people I really like.
The rest of the salesmen
Can take a royal hike.
I want to go swimming in
A peaceful hidden lake.
I want to ride the bumper cars
And never hit the brake.
I’ll gladly clean up backstage
At a hit Broadway show.
I want to drive a fast car
As quickly as it will go.
I want to be in a big movie;
Have some speaking lines.
Be invited to the Academy awards;
The name on the card mine.
I want to perform at Carnegie Hall
So they hear me in the back row,
When I sing songs that I wrote
And receive a standing ‘O’.
I want some of my own poetry
To be printed in the NY Times
With plaudits and huzzahs
And a 12 point printed byline.
I want to have to sign autographs
When I got out to eat somewhere.
And, have lots of money in the bank.
And still have plenty to share.
As long as I am wishing here
I may as well tell the truth.
After all it would do no good
To wish for good looks and youth.
It’s not all that much different than
Making a list for Santa Claus.
So saying exactly what I want
Won’t give me a moment’s pause.
But if I get my fondest wishes
Everything I’d like the most
I want something huge and fun
And I am not trying to boast.
I wish everybody could get
At least a few of their list.
So, write your own list out today
And make sure nothing is missed.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
Have you heard the news?
turn on the radio
turn up the blues
bombs in your running shoes
spikes all over the quiz show clues
the bomb shelter of your soul
is showing cracks on its wall
jump
then run
then crawl
it's making one empty,
like the abandoned carnegie hall
theres an echo quite faint
is this the call?
Can you handle the news?
someone takes all your money,
cause he says he is selling the truth
its a scam and you know it
then again you are paying do's
talk to the wine bottle
talk to a mirror
in hours of doubt
right choices whisper
and the wrong choices shout
Still looking for news?
i have nothing left to tell you
Still looking for clues?
i have nothing left to tell you
nothing left to tell
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
I watch the trees
Cackle in a polyphony of sound
Writhing
Dancing
Crying
Yelling
Sleeping
The leaves even fall dead
Where is my ticket?
For this show
The velvet drapes of Carnegie Hall have never seen such beauty in all their days
And I wonder
Why do people chase
Chase away the days and lives with 9 to 5 jobs
Just to buy a ticket to watch some sort of unforeseen beauty
Working just to work more
And living to work
And who ever had the silent idea
To sit idly and watch the trees
Dance and sway
And cackle at my *******
While I drift away
Into the depths of the show
The show that never ends.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Edward Carnegie was once a normal man,
Steel monopolist extraordinaire.
Till a fateful dip in rail stock,
Lead to his discovery of time travel.
Confused, he landed just a few years from the modern day,
Where he was arrested by the Time Police.
"Edward, we'll set you free,
If you defeat public time enemy,
The Alien."
So off went Carnegie to the modern day,
To face off against fellow PTE.
But what was revealed,
Shocked even the Time Police.
His business partner, Henry Frick,
Was the real villain all along.
"Buckle up, we're going back in time!"
Back to the time of steel money,
Frick had almost bested Carnegie.
"The company is mine Edward, stand down!"
Though undenounced to Henry,
His advisory had pumped his veins full,
Of the Blood Of Steel.
Mar 22, 2025
Mar 22, 2025 at 3:06 PM UTC
If I were to get to Carnegie hall
Oh, how I'd have such a ball
I'd sell out the whole venue
But all it seems I'm able to do
Is play sad songs on 6th avenu
Doing anything to get out there
But ask anyone in town, my names not out anywhere
Just waiting around for my dreams to come true
I've got things to prove to me and to you
I'm just a shadow away
Patiently waiting for that day
To play at Carnegie hall
Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
New York
.
Carnegie Hall
.
I miss who I thought he was
.
I am odd and whimsical
.
Why is it right around this time--right before I'm the happiest, that I remember the ones I loved that made me cry?
.
Sad watermelons
.
Friendiversary
.
Rest in peace Sergio
.
Pushing away my birthday
.
Best friend
.
Losing my beeb
.
"May your coffin be made of one hundred year old wood that I plant tomorrow"
.
He smells like salty sweat and hair and cologne
.
Antique store heaven
.
Please don't take
.
Scuffed shoes
.
Mutt
.
Bubblegum and carmex
.
Enrolled
.
Tattoo
.
He replied, "crazy...would you like to come with me?"
.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC