"connery" poems
Love the name.
Got upset
When the man called out, Seen.
Stupid man.
It's Sean, and not Shawn.
A year older than Gerald.
Two younger than Kevin.
Two older than me.
That's Sean.
Daddy wrote home about us.
Maura was working at the hospital.
Sheila was finishing highschool.
Kevin won the Science Fair.
Sean plays ice hockey with the All Stars,
All over Canada and the U.S.
I found the letter, penned in '62,
A jagged European cursive. They tend to write the same.
I've seen the words, run together to hide the spelling;
With JMJ's and TG's sprinkled like manna throughout.
The last page was missing,
Just when Daddy'd write about Gerald, me, and Marlene.
Gerald with his Beetles haircut.
Me, mimicking ( probably mocking),
Some unknown priest, to my father's delight;
Marlene, the wee pigeon, he missed most when he worked
Away from home.
Jimmy, The Bruiser, wasn't here yet.
The last of an Irish brood settled in Canada.
I discovered it in the spare room at Granny's and Frank's.
There was no mention of Michael, Eucheria or Particia.
He exaggerated about the harsh, six-month winters here,
And our proximity to the North Pole.
Suggested Frank try putting copper wires around Granda's wrists;
The Egyptian mummies didn't exhibit signs of bone deterioration.
Daddy was hard-pressed to be proven wrong when he concocted.
Sean had a drawer full of ribbons, medals, trophies and plagues,
And a large S, his Senior Letter.
He also had sideburns, a much smaller nose, and, smelled
as good as he looked,
The Elvis dip-curl, the Connery swag, the Selleck stash to Clooney cool.
Sean kept a disposition of hidden pains secreted for others.
A heart of tears.
A spirit of adventure.
I love Sean, I recall.
He is always welcome here.
Drops by sometimes.
It's always a great surprise.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC
I'll always admire the English.
Their enunciation is so clear.
And it makes you wants to speak better.
To some it's the accent.
And that's apart of the attraction.
Sean Connery, perfectly sound of Scotland.
Tom Jones, Welsh sounding voice.
Has you wishing one was yours.
Then again.
None of them have to be famous.
We should try to sound our best.
Even if we never be English.
We can pretend to be one in our fantasy.
Unless you are one.
Then you'll know, what I'm talking about?
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 11:19 AM UTC
Cold, wet footprints of drowned ghosts
leading you towards nowhere, a heat-blurred unreachable zenith.
Unlit candles, china white on a china plate,
shots of ***** shots of bleach.
Ambling along dusty corridors,
hallways with loose floorboards and memories you're not sure you ever had.
Desert haze, his brooding gaze,
conversational Russian 101 and irretrievable moments
alone in bed together while Sean Connery distracts you from the press of his fingers.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
OK, I can no longer say
I’ve got a receding hairline
and sure everyone can see
the plain fact, the bald fact -
but there are pleasures, you know
I’ve saved heaps on hair gel
and shampoos and conditioners
(enough I think
to fund my retirement)
and I can actually feel the cool air
(no one can call me hot-headed)
and the great thing now
is everyone says with all honesty
I’m **** as Sean Connery
(what they actually think
or say behind my back
is none of my business)
but the best blessing of all
is I never need to look for my comb
(I confess I was always misplacing it)
and so I don’t need to reach for my wife’s comb
and so she lies as still as a cat
and she doesn’t need to roar
like a lioness
first thing in the morning:
Don’t you dare touch my comb!
Ah, the blessings that linger
like so many halos
in eminent baldness
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 3:55 PM UTC
I kissed you, once. Twice. Three or four or five
Ecstatic times, or maybe more. I kissed
You once when I shouldn't have, many more
When I should have. In a park and with Red
October on the tee-vee and Sean Connery
Somehow pretending to be Russian.
I kissed you under the fireworks
On the Fourth, and in a caboose
At your family reunion. Remember
How we'd walk around at high school
Football games, back when anything
Was possible, and AIM was popular?
Over six times: there were marshmallows,
And the old, broken, Charlotte High School gym.
When I asked you out, I'd been dared.
The first time I kissed you, I was dared. That kiss,
Cliche and on the bleachers, brought
Butterflies that I only just fought off.
You, Ashleigh, were my first love, not named
"Wrestling"-- but I went to you-ess-enn-ay
And you went to em-ess-you. You moved
To greater Lansing from Port Huron
Just as I packed up my stuff to crisscross
My way over four years to San Diego.
I kissed you, once-- or was it more?
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
Once I feel a little comfort
I'll start blabbering about my dreams in progress
She's so supportive
thinks I'm a renaissance man
for all I find important
all the albums and paintings I've planned
Young da Vinci to a T
Little she know I don't dot my eyes
So I'm just sitting there
looking at a bland pole
with blurry vision
She's too great
so my childish totem's fade
cause all I want is you babe
Streaming binges on the couch
I sense the boredom bubbling up
So I start sifting through that rolodex
of perfect dates in my head
Walking through the naval museum
I still sense things are out of step
'cause a flawless Connery impression
just fell flat
I double down
beat the dead horse
of course, of course
So we sat down on the bench
across from the U.S.S. She don't give a ****
We talk about us
and I'm hit with a brick
"You used to wanna be a rock star
write books, teach college
and travel far
What ever happened to the "Will to Power"
you never used to shut up about
You're just content to be a hobbyist simp
that talks big and likes to hold my hand
I fear I'm holding you back
You've gotten so lazy since we met"
I wipe the brick from my face
and explain that my mind
is the only chains
that stopped me from doing those things
I was never even happy with those lofty dreams
She got me outta a dark place
and I'm content with just
strumming chords on my front porch
and exploring Western New York
So long as it's with someone more gorges than Ithaca
And you'll be my Penelope
She says she doesn't deserve me
but as she stares at Lake Erie
I know she means that I'm not the man she hoped I was
I used to rap about snatching power and holding gold
while beating myself like an opus dei catholic
just for being too lazy and not doing enough
I'm sorry you made me comfortable and happy enough
to live a modest life
(Oh good tidings of comfort and joy
comfort and joy)
Now I'm alone again
and it's opening day
Wreck myself with unachievable goals
just to reel them in
Get secure and balanced 'till
they'll throw me back into the mercury waves
I'm an ancient treasure in the making
don't excavate me.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 6:55 PM UTC
I would be in heaven,
if I have the style of David Niven.
Or the voice of George Sanders.
I would be in heaven,
if I had the comedic style of Benny Hill.
It would be a delight.
It would be a thrill.
To have the qualities of these Englishmen.
I been in heaven,
if I could play the guitar of Eric Clapton.
Or the theatric of **** Jagger.
Say, what you want?
He knows how to thrill a crowd.
Not once, will you not see them going wild.
Even the gent Peter O' Toole was the best of the cool.
Same, with the great actor Michael Caine.
And it never could be a hurting to not be Richard Burton.
Who had style and grace?
Dalton, Moore and Connery, all contributed a personal style to James Bond.
And , even this man named Daniel Craig.
Not to over look Pierce Bronsnan.
It's something about the guys of the United Kingdom.
We see coolness even in Prince Charles.
Whom probably learn this from his lovely mom.
Notice, the way ladie admires Hugh Jackman.
Only, if I had these gents accent.
I probably could try to fake it.
Except, who woud I be fooling?
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 11:17 AM UTC
It's no fable.
During the forties, who didn't admire Clark Gable?
With the common sense of Rhett Butler.
For instant.
Who didn't want to be Cary Grant?
In Affair to Remember.
Admiring and loving a woman forever.
Who doesn't know a shy man like Gary Cooper?
Who came across as a true trooper?
Who stood his ground in High Noon?
And what man didn't burn for Elizabeth Taylor?
With the beauty to make them roar like the MGM lion.
Or is it only me.
Maybe, I'm just living a Hollywood's dream.
Thinking of things I wanted to be.
Lights, Action, Camera.
Is all I use to remember.
When I was pretending be Tyrone Power.
Maybe I was Sean Connery.
Doing all the secret agents type things.
Maybe I'm the Lone Ranger or the Cisco Kid.
Out to do justice for those in need.
These are the things that fantasies do.
When you realize pretending is better than a toy.
Which has been replaced by computers.
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 8:05 PM UTC
He died 25 years ago today, which is a quarter of a century.
He produced 'Never Say Never Again' with Sean Connery.
He was born in 1932 and was a man who people would admire.
First he was married to Judith Deborah Feldman and then to Talia Shire.
He was the executive producer of 'Rad' and 'I Am The Cheese'.
When he produced movies, they were certainly sure to please.
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 1:35 PM UTC
Certain people believe Sean Connery was the best James Bond and they're right.
He also starred in "The Hunt For Red October", "The Presidio" and "First Knight".
When he died on Halloween, his family and fans were sure to grieve.
He gave a wonderful performance in "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves".
In 1958, he starred in "Another Time, Another Place".
When he died, it was hard for his friends and family to face.
When we lost such a talented actor, it was a shame.
Talent should've been Sean Connery's middle name.
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 11:44 AM UTC
He was a great actor but now he's gone.
He starred in seven movies as James Bond.
Connery was awesome in every role that he played.
He gave a terrific performance in "Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade".
His first Bond movie was "Dr. No".
His death was a devastating blow.
He was born in Scotland and died in the Bahamas on Halloween.
Sean Connery was one of the greatest actors that we've ever seen.
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 12:36 PM UTC
ah, but the atheistic scissors bound
to expressing ęglish...
i.e. english - in: glee & eesh.
also another word example:
dusz & duś
hence the necessary scissors
of inherent atheism in english...
the first?
in article terms
the former: an indirect article
(a) - dusz
and the latter?
a direct article
(the),
again, encompassing prompt,
a commanding expression,
duś is a word, that encompasses
the prompt.
dusz? a word that encompasses
the verb-inside-a-verb,
a consciousness...
suddenly being aware of the
hedious act...
being performed...
and realising, that you're aware
of social norms, but are unable
to transcend toward a plataeu morality
that allows you to stop the act
you're performing.
and the word for soul?
dusza....
then there's the word, uduś,
i.e. strangle / smother...
the element of: voyeurism,
in that uduś has someone looking
at you performing the act,
and duś... has you claustrophoic
inside your own head,
performing the act...
unless of course you address yourself
in third person, with no ******
which is a, presupposition?
i can't take to enlisting too many nouns
to explain the situation...
i love the fact that in english
there's only talk of trans-gender,
or bi-sexuality,
elsewhere? bilingualism,
and trans-etymology...
i find the latter the more
interesting category
of debate...
by no english is so pop
and so lingau franca that it has become,
slightly tedious...
well... that's cute, but the true description
of this language is: ******* annoying!
trannies with daddy mummies
pushing prammies with
penguin babies waving 'ello;
i miss the classical circus acts,
never mind, let's just watch this mature,
call it burgundy, circa 1998... full palette,
vintage, red... mmm... fry that beef
al dente... shimmy shimmy wee,
shimmy shimmy,
pink on the inside;
oh yeah... and that word:
******* plonkers... and that ain't cockney...
that's peckhamsprechen...
hen hen... not shed
light o mighty, spré...
spray chechnyan with a: shir connery
convenience at the bar -
shishtematic, not saken;
south london is as much a mystery for
someone living north of the thames,
as someone living
north of the terms heading
to newcastle...
and the foul gob,
told the most bitter-sweet joke.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 7:25 PM UTC
A Man named Bond
That’s James Bond 007 it is
But his real name is Sean Connery
He made tons of movie action flicks
007 a sequence that sticks
Gadgets used emphasize the adventure effects
They were used as protects
007 being an Agent
I remember one of the movies, THUNDERBALL
Utterance in the word
All action that would be heard
You would often find 007 in female love
Two hearts coming together one can think of
I know now I have your attention
But Sean Connery was more than an Actor
He competed in Bodybuilding Contest such as the Mr. Universe
So you see Sean Connery is Universal
He spans Globe
Across the seas thieves try to steal
But 007 is hot on the trail to see being an Agent is for real
However, Sean Connery life goes beyond the Mr. Universe Title
Try keeping a Scorecard of his accomplishments
You would probably run out of time
Thanks Mr. Connery for your talent
I couldn’t just be silent
007 I know so well
Sean Connery’s Acting that was simply swell
Thanks for the entertain
My heart will always remain
Until we see each other again
Heaven called and you must transcend.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 4:04 PM UTC