"deployed" poems
Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in hell's hole
Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus
Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss
Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand
Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared
Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down
Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand
Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
crack pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float
Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void
Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.
Traffic holding its breath,
Sky a tense diaphragm:
Dusk hung like a backcloth
That shook where a swan swam,
Tremulous as a hawk
Hanging deadly, calm.
A vacuum of need
Collapsed each hunting heart
But tremulously we held
As hawk and prey apart,
Preserved classic decorum,
Deployed our talk with art.
Our Juvenilia
Had taught us both to wait,
Not to publish feeling
And regret it all too late -
Mushroom loves already
Had puffed and burst in hate.
So, chary and excited,
As a thrush linked on a hawk,
We thrilled to the March twilight
With nervous childish talk:
Still waters running deep
Along the embankment walk.
8k
Dark hair tied back.
Blue eyes pointed front and center.
Tats two on her back and shoulder
Black stocking satin strap.
Knee-high; hard to measure.
High - heels they just climb forever.
Spread thighs hypnotized his eyes.
Deep breath watching her chest rise
Wide eyes she looks posterized,
long strokes that disappear deep inside.
Deeper sighs I can feel the vibes,
nail marks across his chest,
blood dried just follow the X.
Move slow make her want it more,
said wise speaking from experience.
Handcuffed cause she likes to be a deviant.
Lips sealed, around his **** like she’s practicing keeping secrets.
Hair tied back cause that’s how Sir told her to keep it.
Legs wrapped around his waist, at a right angle, so Sir can reach it.
open wide like Simon says, She reacts so, Sir doesn’t have to repeat it.
Firm grip on her waistline, but there is no wasting time.
Twitching hips, tighten his grips, as she whines,
in joy of the loving being deployed.
Toes curled the pleasure can’t be denied.
Slip slide the more she moves the harder he grinds,
smooth ride the way their bodies coincide.
Deep ****** they combust, as they collide,
come inside her, like a gentleman,
he gives her, a piece of his mine.
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 3:17 PM UTC
My Promise to My Soldier
I promise to be there for you always
Whenever you need a helping hand
I promise to think about you daily
Wherever you are away
I promise to never let you down
No matter what we go through
I promise to keep you in my prayers
So that God may keep you safe
I promise to be here when you return
I will be there waiting
I promise to be your support
When you need it most
I promise to help you through the tough times
Even though it will hurt me
I promise to be here for you when you are in pain
Even though it will pain me too
I promise to support you in any decisions you may make
No matter what they are
I promise to be there for you when decisions need to be made
Even though it will **** me to watch you leave
I promise I will be there to say goodbye
When you leave
I promise to be there to say hello again
When you return home to me
I promise to love you forever and eternally
No matter what happens or where life takes us
I promise to be loyal to you while you are deployed
Because I know that you will be loyal to me
I promise that no matter where life takes me
It will never take me away from you
I promise to be here forever and always
Trustworthy and in love
Forever and always
I promise.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
Thirty years of monthly
payments for a roof,
garage, and backyard,
The house burns down
the day you pay
it off,
A brand new model,
heated seats, leather
wrapped steering wheel,
more speakers than
you can hear,
pride and joy,
taken from you
by some careless *******
focused on "Me"
not focused on red
lights or stop
signs.
The frame is bent,
airbags deployed,
the insurance
writes you a check
and sends a form
apology with next
month's bill.
The newest clothes
aren't so new,
once they're washed
twice,
but we base our wealth
on fleeting things,
wood, status symbols
and cotton,
We pay ourselves
by saving money
already spent,
and paying old bills
so we can have new ones,
Wealth isn't tied to these
temporary things, easily
replaced by more
work and money
No
Wealth is created,
easily sustained,
by good night kisses,
road trips just because,
and matching shirts
for family pictures,
things that make us
remember how to be
happy,
because we are all temporary,
but our love is
not so easily
replaced.
So even if
you rent, or
you take
the bus
or you have clothes
in your closet for years
The time spent
with people you love
wil always cover
you until the
next paycheck
you've already spent
anyway.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
My eyes a pure olive-green color
Aren't reflecting love or pleasure
Between this black pupil and iris
World of strength and mysteries
And you'll see that my eyes won't blink
From your camera flash and the sound of click
Because my strong features reflect my firmness
And the pain of the camps and its soreness
But deeply you can see a shocked young girl
Who ran away from a fierce war to another terrible region
So do not ask , show me your smile
My silent lips reflect the world silence
My eyes fascinate you? , yeah I know
Everyone bewitched, but no one ask how do you do?
However, the force which glitter in my eyes
You will not see it anywhere else
I do not know if my picture would be deployed
Or you would keep it after this year
All I know is the point of my life has changed
since 1984
Toka Kentar © all rights received
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
cousin Jim
was an inept crim
he deployed a Sherman tank
to raid the Federal bank
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
the air was thick and heavy
the sun was heating up the sky
And somewhere in the jungle
more men were gonna die
The streets were full of people
Feral dogs were running free
The haze was thick and murky
The sun you couldn't see
It's a Saigon Sunday Morning
Ten more men were going home
To a flag tri-corner folded
And a marker of white stone
The men were all assembled
To load them up with care
It was a Saigon Sunday Morning
with ten men no longer there
The jungle was a minefield
The trees were blocking out the light
It was ***** trapped like crazy
And it seemed like it was night
A patrol went hunting "Charlie"
But, they were found out first
It only took twelve seconds
And it turned out for the worst
The city never noticed
The 'copters flying overhead
Whether bringing in supplies
Or taking out the dead
It was a Saigon Sunday Morning
It never changed one little bit
The air was always heavy
And the alleys smelled like ****
Back home the news delivered
The families destroyed
They were waiting for their loved ones
A short time were deployed
Ribbons tied around the Oak Tree
to support those coming back
On a Saigon Sunday Morning
With twenty bullets in their back
A transport with the bodies
Drops fifty more to play the game
It's a vicious, endless, circle
The procedure's all the same
It's a Saigon Sunday Morning
Ten more men were going home
To a flag tri-corner folded
And a marker of white stone
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
Dear friends , this is an old poem of mine which was composed after I learnt that one of my favourite Hollywood actor Richard Gere had become a Buddhist and believed in Zen Philosophy. So having read about Zen, I composed in a simple format about the same. Hope you like it. Thanks, - Raj.
ZEN PHILOSOPHY
With roots buried deep in soils of Ancient India,
And watered by the exotic blend of three different
cultures;
Reflecting the mysticism of India, the pragmatism
of the Confucian mind, and the Taoist’s love of
naturalness and spontaneity,
Buddhism bloomed and blossomed into an exotic
flower called 'Zen Philosophy'!
In 475 AD a pupil of Buddha called Bodhidharma
went to China.
There the Mahayana School of Buddhism mingled
with Chinese Taoism, which evolved into Chan
Philosophy!
'Chan ' derived from the Sanskrit word 'dhyana',
which meant 'silent meditation', -
Through which the Buddha attained enlightenment
and salvation!
Later, in 1200 AD this Chan philosophy travelled to
the shores of Japan,
Where 'Chan' got translated to 'Zen' by its many
followers and fans!
ZEN is the art of meditation to achieve inner awakening,
To gain intuitive knowledge, highlighting the inadequacy
of logical reasoning!
It therefore advocates the practice of 'zazen' or 'sitting
meditation',
For acquiring inner awakening through silent
contemplation!
ZEN could be practised in our daily life,
Without entering a hermitage, leaving behind your
family or wife!
'Gain the naturalness of your original true nature',
- preaches the Zen Teacher through meditation,
'Rather than through mere faith and devotion,
which is contrary to Zen notion.'
'One must awaken to this present moment to feel
this life,
And not waste time in speculations of an Elusive
After-Life’!
The 'Enso' or the ‘circle’, is the Zen symbol which is
often deployed,
Symbolising Enlightenment, Strength, the Universe,
and the Void!
With this 'expression of the moment ' the Zen Philosophy
starts,
And today the ‘Enso’ is also the symbol of Expressionist
Art!
Never ask the Zen Master 'What is Zen, when, or how? ',
For he will always tell you, - 'Zen Is The Instant Now'!
- Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 11:17 AM UTC
Delete finger
go back
to whence you came!
Most usually deployed
when I’ve done something
inane, lame or insane…
In my mind I suppose
to knows
all what people think of me
and thus supposition
(the annoying ******
sometimes threatens creativity.
The pieces will eventually make sense
and be understood
by those who are not dense
that I do what I do
because
I am compelled to
So I cannot delete myself.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 7:59 AM UTC
The silent assassins came floating down,
Tiny but deadly they came.
Two thousand dead mice,
Stuffed full of Tylenol,
On the island of Guam they deplaned.
To **** off the snakes
That are killing Guam’s birds
Tylenol should do the trick
A mere 80 milligrams
Can **** a grown snake
Or at least make them terribly sick.
I hope this works better
Than the Mongoose Brigade
We deployed on Hawaii’s fair shores.
They were sent to **** rats
But instead took long naps
And the birds are more rare than before.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Let's make the stars as our topic;
We all know they shine
Like small gems in night,
But do you know a surprise?
They are alone most of the time.
In our lenses they could fit
In between each parting lips,
Close enough for them to whisper
How Earth makes her creatures suffer.
Yet, zooming in there's only void;
Maddening—is that why flares are deployed?
To cry for another cry
Only to echo until the end of time.
Sep 7, 2025
Sep 7, 2025 at 10:59 AM UTC
High above the Canyon’s edge,
Far above the ancient clay,
The helicopter hovers there
Like a dragonfly at play.
With my jet pack on my back
I coolly, calmly step away.
Gain separation from the blades,
Freefall starts my epic day.
On stubby wings the jet packs fire
I’m Daedalus in the morning light.
I soar across the canyon’s rim.
Laughing like some hell born sprite
One hundred eighty miles an hour,
The wind whips cold despite the sun
I glide toward my landing zone
The jet packs sputter and are done.
My parachute has been deployed
My guide ropes turn me for my drop.
My wings are just a dead weight now
I touch down one the Mesa top.
At Kitty Hawk that fateful day.
This must be what the brothers felt
Kindred souls who sought to fly
By using wings that wouldn’t melt..
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
It creeps in the night, a drag in its step.
It looks at me, those blood shot eyes.
It is something I have started to despise.
A small but strong foe.
I hoped it wasn't so as I walked in.
I could feel the heaviness in the air.
Beware. I wont be scared.
I will be fine. I'll confront it, it will then deny.
It doesn't matter though, I'll try.
That blank look peers into my soul.
Selfish, out to destroy me.
The troops wont be deployed.
With my brain it has toyed.
Beware, I need to be prepared.
A step at a time inching toward this beast that awaits.
Then it sees me……
It lunges forward, toward my heart.
It starts to tear me apart.
I crumble to the floor, looking to the door that the beasts is walking toward.
I lay there, now looking at the ceiling, overcome with this sad feeling.
Was this really my meaning?
Breaths getting shorter, it's harder to breathe.
In my final seconds my eyes start to close.
The beast is at ease.
It is now pleased, standing in the doorway watching me drift away.
The beast then walks away, off to bed.
It rests it head on the pillow getting ready for work tomorrow.
I wake alone in bed.
I walk around the empty house.
It is quiet, it is cold.
I know the story isn't done being told.
When it comes home, I start to have the feeling again.
With all my fright I walk into the room just to make sure the beast isn't out to play.
I hold it tight, then I look up to see its bloodshot eyes.
It's been a short day, It will be a long arduous night.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
There are crickets in my room
Somewhere not reached by my broom
They keep chirping
To alert me
Of what hurts me
They’ve made a mess
In my nest
But I can’t find it
To confine it
Like I’m blinded
Mistakes were made
Hurting my name
Bringing me shame
So I live in a grave
Where crickets lay
They can’t be slain
So their noise remains
The crickets are beckoning
Bringing my reckoning
With a sound that’s threatening
Because it’s so deafening
The crickets infest my home
So I’m never really alone
They live in my basement and attic
Chirping until I’ve finally had it
I jump out my window like a rabbit
To avoid their noise so emphatic
But out here the crickets sing prouder
With a chorus that’s even louder
The crickets buzz like an alarm
Reminding me of my harm
They’ll sing for me to disarm
Until I change or wither
So I’m a plagued sinner
Who’ll never be a winner
Wrestling with damage inner
I eluded their noise
So nukes were deployed
And my nation destroyed
By a sound that annoyed
Me until I couldn’t avoid
Not being conscience devoid
I ask for forgiveness
All I hear are crickets
And cops giving tickets
In this concrete thicket
That I need to picket
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 9:55 PM UTC
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Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.
Traffic holding its breath,
Sky a tense diaphragm:
Dusk hung like a backcloth
That shook where a swan swam,
Tremulous as a hawk
Hanging deadly, calm.
A vacuum of need
Collapsed each hunting heart
But tremulously we held
As hawk and prey apart,
Preserved classic decorum,
Deployed our talk with art.
Our Juvenilia
Had taught us both to wait,
Not to publish feeling
And regret it all too late -
Mushroom loves already
Had puffed and burst in hate.
So, chary and excited,
As a thrush linked on a hawk,
We thrilled to the March twilight
With nervous childish talk:
Still waters running deep
Along the embankment walk.
Dec 9, 2009
Dec 9, 2009 at 7:29 AM UTC
Dear Friends , this is an old poem of mine which was composed after I learnt that Richard Gere, one of my favourite Hollywood actors had become a Buddhist and believed in Zen Philosophy. So having read about Zen I composed this simple verse. Hope you like it. If you like it kindly re-post this poem. Thanks, - Raj.
ZEN PHILOSOPHY
With roots buried deep in soils of Ancient India,
And watered by the exotic blend of three different
cultures;
Reflecting the mysticism of India, the pragmatism
of the Confucian mind, and the Taoist’s love of
naturalness and spontaneity,
Buddhism bloomed and blossomed into an exotic
flower called 'Zen Philosophy'!
In 475 AD a pupil of Buddha called Bodhidharma
went to China.
There the Mahayana School of Buddhism mingled
with Chinese Taoism, which evolved into Chan
Philosophy!
'Chan ' derived from the Sanskrit word 'dhyana',
which meant 'silent meditation', -
Through which the Buddha attained enlightenment
and salvation!
Later, in 1200 AD this Chan philosophy travelled to
the shores of Japan,
Where 'Chan' got translated to 'Zen' by its many
followers and fans!
ZEN is the art of meditation to achieve inner awakening,
To gain intuitive knowledge, highlighting the inadequacy
of logical reasoning!
It therefore advocates the practice of 'Zazen' or 'sitting
meditation',
For acquiring inner awakening through silent
contemplation!
ZEN could be practiced in our daily life,
Without entering a hermitage, leaving behind your
family or wife!
'Gain the naturalness of your original true nature',
- preaches the Zen Teacher through meditation,
'Rather than through mere faith and devotion,
which is contrary to Zen notion.'
'One must awaken to this present moment to feel
this life,
And not waste time in speculations of an ‘elusive
After-Life’.
The 'Enso' or the ‘circle’, is the Zen symbol which is
often deployed,
Symbolizing Enlightenment, Strength, the Universe,
and the Void!
With this 'expression of the moment ' the Zen Philosophy
starts,
And today the ‘Enso’ is also the symbol of Expressionist
Art!
Never ask the Zen Master 'What is Zen, When, or How? ' ,
For he will always tell you, - 'Zen Is The Instant Now'!
- Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
Mahayana in Sanskrit means 'Great Vehicle', and is the largest major tradition of Buddhism existing today. The other branch is called Hinayana, meaning the ‘Lesser Vehicle’.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 8:02 AM UTC
Rise and fall the sound declares
Pouring the unspoken
The sigh blowing the whispers you never heard
Hardly not forgotten
Rise and fall it goes in your mouth
Running for a glimmer of shadow that you found in light
Hallowed by the feathers your unseen heart deployed
Rise and fall of the intense touch you felt in someones arm
The video game they put to shame
In all the never ending pain
Rise and fall i sow the seeds
Crawling beside the bedrock of weeds
Put together in a land of my veins
Bound for sweat and blood
Rise and fall i go
In the beginning i will never know
Rise and fall i go
In the future i will know
Rise and fall
Bouncing like a ball
Over the gravity i float
Rise and fall i rise
Escaping from all the tearful lies
Rise and fall
Just let the heart skip the beating
find your way to believing
After all we are living
And always remember the feeling
Just let it rise
And learn to fall
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
~
fallen…
heroes all,
saviors-in-training,
on mission repeat;
the service-giving,
life-giving,
members of
a fighting team.
existing solely that
you and i
can spend our time
consumed
with the art
of loving well;
their actions
no less impassioned
than our own,
no less worthy,
no less loving and
no less selfless.
whatever we think
of war,
we must think
of the individuals
who move toward the fray
rather than away;
those to whom
we owe our very
everyday existence
be it extraordinary
or mundane;
to their daily efforts.,
to their repeated training,
to their daily sacrifice,
we offer
a prayer-filled salute!
and to these
who paid dearly,
to wives,
sons & daughters,
mothers and fathers,
nation with a
grateful heart,
a debt we cannot repay,
we humbly offer
our heart-filled
and loving tribute.
may you ever
rest in peace.
~
*post script.
serving you and me from Camp Lejeune, North Carolina,
these fallen Marine heroes are:
Capt. Stanford Henry Shaw III of Basking Ridge, New Jersey;
Master Sgt. Thomas Saunders of Camp Lejeune;
Staff Sgt. Liam Flynn of Queens, New York;
Staff Sgt. Trevor P. Blaylock of Lake Orion, Michigan;
Staff Sgt. Kerry Michael Kemp of Port Washington, Wisconsin;
Staff Sgt. Andrew Seif of Holland, Michigan; and
Staff Sgt. Marcus Bawol from Warren, Michigan
http://www.marinecorpstimes.com/story/military/2015/03/13/names-of-7-marines-killed-in-helicopter-crash-released/70277156/
(the four fallen Guard members remain unnamed at this time)
next month my son is deployed
to points classified to us his parents.
i can only think about his sacrifice
in terms of time, money, exposure to danger …
and his safe return!*
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
He died without warning.
Lives fractured
From failing
Air bags,
Ten in all that
Deployed, did not protect.
It happened
Pleading to un do.
On a sidewalk in a fetal position, pleading.
Nothing, no money
Millions or more
Will ever bring him back, but hate takes up residence in your soul, burn until you can't move from the scar tissue.
He would not want hate. He would not want you in this state.
I see it so in every
Red fruit garnished
On the Serviceberry
This year
Three years after your death. I hear his echos, it will be ok.
It's all I have to give
Watered by tears.
Jun 5, 2024
Jun 5, 2024 at 9:21 AM UTC
when i was born,
you cried to our grandmother
because you wanted a brother
and got stuck with me, instead.
and what a turn of events that became.
when i was a baby,
i busted the back of your teeth out
with a bottle of perfume,
most likely contributing to your
repetitive dreams of your teeth falling out.
sometimes i think of this when you say your "th"s.
when i was a child,
you would pick peppers with our dad
down the street and hold eating competitions
while i squashed berries in my little tyke car.
we played mouse trap on the floor.
when i completed my first decade of life,
you packed your bags, got on a bus,
got married, and were deployed for the first time.
i don't remember much of those days.
i only remember the first phone call,
"yours truly, from iraq."
when i was eleven,
you came home, war torn and ragged
and divorced from an army wife
who was never really a wife at all.
you moved on, in some ways
more than others.
you were different, changed.
when i became a preteen,
i met a girl, and looked at our mom
and i said, "he's going to marry that girl."
and marry her, you did,
and had your first child, too.
when i was a teenager,
you taught me important life lessons
like how i act when i'm drunk
and how to do sake bombs like i belong in asia.
you taught me to eat with chopsticks.
through babysitting, i learned to wait to have a child.
and now, at twenty years old, everything is different.
living down the street from me, then in the old house,
and finally in our mom's house with me,
the dynamics changed.
we became the best friends we'd
always tried to be, but were too distant
to maintain. we gained trust and inside jokes.
you finally gave approval of my boyfriend.
we wreaked havoc and stayed up way too late.
but then you moved five hundred miles away,
and every day my heart feels ripped into pieces.
i miss all the jokes, and you waking me up
to our favorite songs.
i miss my brother. i miss my bubby.
i hope one day one of us will go home.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 2:30 AM UTC
In tandem we took the jump-
Just you and me.
We weren't falling-- we were flying
We were free
Parachutes deployed,
and sailing were we --
somewhere towards the ground.
But an unsound wind whirled around,
and separated you from me.
now alone and unwound
but still sailing, you see.
sailing, searching, hoping foolishly--
while you hurtle farther from me
as not to be found
losing focus. losing hope.
and I can't see.
but you came back - just
to cut the cords of my chute so callously.
now falling,
not flying or sailing - not happy nor free
plummeting down, down, down
and you're nowhere to be found.
alone and falling,
no net to slow me down
no trampoline, no rebound
and you're nowhere to be found.
would that you would catch me,
but you make not a sound
so you leave your mark
a secret blemish --
nowhere to be found
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 7:14 AM UTC
Such a huge, beautiful sky
Now that the mountains have all
Called in sick.
Plains where valleys were,
Seas withdraw as if in retreat;
Defeated armies of
Timelessness. Wake of
Soil and stone. Such a
Huge, all embracing heaven
Not even looking down.
And now, enter her, as I make
Myself comfortable with
My new life of treatments and
A violently shortened lifespan;
The one I always loved from
Within the shadows.
Willing me to live.
Caring.
A sleeper angel deployed to
Hold the holder;
Double-wing-cover from
The snow. Old love unspoken.
The kind that makes hills run for
Themselves.
Steady and unquestionable;
Tectonic shifts between hearts
Running out of
Tic-tocs and bass lines.
Plains where valleys were. She
Fills craters with her presence
In the room.
Never my girl; always my girl.
Sleeper angel activated.
I see why the seas withdraw.
No wonder the mountains called
In sick.
She raises solar storms with her little finger;
Conducts atmospheric changes with
A sigh.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 8:40 PM UTC
The hot boiled rice
With brown gram curry
The nutty smell of sesame
Oil shrills in hurry
Deployed on a thrice
larger rounder plate
For a boy's belly deplete.
"Can't eat this much rice!"
He shouts with a surprise.
“You can do my son sure.",
Her firm voice enssures
The boys look measures.
"The remainder you keep aside"
Her remand saves his pride.
A monthly forty rupees
Should not be pretty reason
For a lodger's liberty to please
Among two of her teen sons
Than a welling spring of kindness
A heart huge in roundness
Larger than a stainless steel plate
With a profuse heap of hot rice
The smooth boiled brown pies
Oiled with fragrance fleet.
For how he fully did feat it?
How she purely predict it?
The stomach of a young one could hold
The heap of love on a stainless steel mold.
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
Part 4
When we last left poor Agnes
In her attic all alone
She couldn’t find her way back down,
And she had no telephone.
No light switch and no stairway
She couldn’t find the hall
The elevator disappeared
(It had sunk into the floor)
And to make her situation worse,
She couldn’t find the door!
But Agnes McDuff was pretty tough;
She didn’t mess around
She thought of stuff that she could use
To help her get back down.
First she lit the candlesticks
So she would have some light -
For an attic with no window
Is black as darkest night.
With candlelight, she now could see;
She dumped the clothes from all the boxes,
Put the boxes on the table,
Next she stacked the wooden blocks.
She found some nails and a hammer
In her Grandma’s toolbox.
She nailed it all together
And on top she nailed the chairs
Now Agnes had a set of crazy, crooked
Homemade stairs!
Agnes went back to the toolbox,
She saw a saw was there,
She carried it very carefully
As she climbed the crazy stair.
Now you might have a feeling
Of what she was going to do
Yes, she climbed up to the ceiling, and
Used the saw to cut right through!
She climbed back down and looked around
Found the rubber bands and string
Added several woolen socks
And made a giant sling!
She rummaged through the dumped out clothes
Found a wedding dress and suit
And with the needle and the spool of thread
Made a great big parachute!
She hooked the parachute to the bicycle
(The one without a spoke)
And tied the back wheel to the tuba
And that was NOT a joke.
The tuba was quite heavy
So it kept the bike at rest
Once again climbed up the crazy stair
And performed the final test.
She nailed both ends of the slingshot
Around the opening she’d sawn
Hooked the sling around the bicycle
Moved the stair, and then got on.
Somehow the clock was working!
It was ringing Three, Two, One
And just as Agnes cut the tie she thought
Boy! This could be FUN!
The slingshot worked!
Shot Agnes out, on the bike, way up into the sky,
And she looked around in wonder thought,
Boy! I’ve never been this high!
She went up a mile or so
Before she dared look down
She saw the long suspension bridge
And the other parts of town.
She saw the entrance to the tunnel
(The rest was under ground)
She saw the roundhouse and the avenue
The park and then the lake
Finally, she saw her house
There was no mistake!
So she deployed the parachute
And gently she descended
And this is where the story
Of Agnes Attic should have ended.
She walked up to the doorway
Turned the handle, now you see?
The door was locked from the inside,
Agnes McDuff forgot the key!
PwL May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC