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James Floss Oct 2018
We'd bound around
For golf downtown
Frisbees always in hand

"The students are coming!!”
Was a seasonal refrain
As we’d goofily gallivant

Mother’s Day shows
We‘re free, mother-suckers
For your kids, a show we grant

A CLOWN SHOW!
A DOWNTOWN SHOW!
THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN’T!

Rock their world with juggling
See the Doctor for what ails
Rudi and O in laundromat land

Jeanie, Splash, Allison, Donna,
Silly girls astonishing with
Leaps, jokes and handstands

Chewey, Steamboat and Grog
"Yeah-yeah! Yeah-yeah!”
Silly boys grandstanding

All hail Papa Gale! We
Funned with Cpt. Plunge
Leader of the band!

Sweet Georgia!
**** croquet!
It was grand!



(**** croquet was the official lawn game of the Sweet Georgia Brown Clowns during the summer 198x Trinity Country tour [wherein we masqueraded as a Norwegian Salmon Kissing team at a Moose Lodge Talent Show in Lewiston, CA* {true!}]: “Don’t forget your hat!”)

*(we won)
Redshift Feb 2013
1.  you had beanie babies...
a lot of them
you shared your magazines
and forced me to join your club
i later ripped up our contract
and threw it at your face
but i was only eight

2. i liked the way you sat in the cold metal chairs
during church
you sat like you owned the place
and not God
hunched over
your knees spread
scowling
at everything;
me

3. you'd get hurt on purpose
and then cry
so all the girls would come running
to comfort you
i really liked you
until then

4. you came over to my house
to see my sister
you called me
"Other World-Girl"
because i knew things
you didn't

5. i met you on an online rpg game
i needed help with some quest
that involved dwarves
you were a high level
mysterious
12 years old
you talked a lot about
steak
and naked women
we're still friends
today

6. i met you at an over night youth event
about world hunger
you had the most alluring smile
i hit you with a football
in the head
in a gym
i was fourteen
you called me
your joyous red
we hugged
tightly
and often

6. the cousin of number three, you were gangly
barrel chested
a skater punk
parkouring through my chest
making fun of me
always

7. you were from argentina
i met you once
and liked you because you read and wrote
like i did
you asked me
about a song
you hardly spoke english
but after you went back to your country
we talked on facebook
for three years

8. i don't remember how i met you
it was kind of
sneaky
you had curly brown hair
freckles
every time i walked into a room
you yelled "here comes trouble!" and smiled
mrs. geiger told us
at a dance
that we were
a cute couple
you blushed a lot
and danced with me
all night
thea told me
that you liked me
i stopped seeing you
after a year or two
i miss you,
theo

9. i met you in chicago
a mexican
japanese-speaking
artist
gone violinist
i wrote on the wall of your bedroom
it was short-lived
you gave me a lot of
popsicles

10. a fuzzy-headed
jewish trumpet player
you always made dead-baby jokes
and something about jesus and boats
you could hit really high notes
on your trumpet

11. i was sixteen
you liked a girl i hated
you threw frisbees really well
another trumpet player
metal head
you dated her for a while
then she broke up with you
and got pregnant
with some ugly guy
and married him
but i guess this isn't about her
you came back last summer
and wanted to give me a massage
sing with me
hold me
i said
no

12. you played tommy djilas
in the music man
i was mrs. paroo
you loved lady gaga
still do
you're really funny
and dorky
but you liked my older sister

13. you were a lot older than me
i started liking you
when you shaved
the disorderly ***** hair
off your chin
you read the bible
a lot

14. i can't remember your actual name
i think it was mike
or something
i called you
california
your family kicked you out
and you moved in with my bestfriend
you were
so funny
we were
bestfriends

15. your brother asked me out
i said no
i liked you because i was bored
you had a nice ****
i dunno
17 is a weird age

16. you called me your
hippy
you were really muscular
and had nice hair
you always smelled really good
you were kind of short
and a player
you always wanted
to arm wrestle me
i always
said no

17. i liked you
for a total of a day and a half
you got so annoying
i started to wish you'd
fall off the face of the planet

18. the third trumpet player i've liked...
they all turned out badly
guess i should stay away from them
metal head
socially awkward
you wore sunglasses constantly
you had an unhealthy obsession
with ducktape
and bacon
you gave me a bacon mint once
i spit it out
i stopped liking you
after you became a gentleman

19. i didn't really actually like you
i liked that you liked me
you were really annoying
and if i didn't respond to a text
within ten minutes
you sent me forty more
just to make sure i was still breathing
ugh

20. you had me at the word
heinous
you were really muscular
and you had the prettiest brown eyes
you'd call me in the park
between calling
all those other girls
you turned out to be
the worst mistake of 2012
glad that's over

21. you were some creepy viking-like person
from alabama
a bible beater
who didn't believe in singing with instruments
you were bearded
really arrogant
and rude
i really don't know why i liked you

22. your guitar
could never stay tuned
after a while
it just sounded horrible
you used long words
thought i was hilarious
always tried to touch my hair
tickle my neck
i stopped liking you
after hearing you talk to your little brother
that i loved
so nastily
for talking to me

22. you're in my english lit class
you have a really **** brooklyn accent
a deep voice
and the most curious, interested stare
i ever saw
i liked you a lot
until i found out you have a girlfriend
named anna
i've always hated
that name

23. you're my
bestfrand
not friend
frand
you force me to watch scary movies with you
just so someone will hold you
when i'm scared
we talk every night
you told me that you loved me
and then apologized
i think i've stopped loving you
but every time you tease me
hate everyone who flirts with me
post funny pictures on my wall
make me stay up
because you can't sleep
give me kittens
sing thrift shop with me
show me ridiculous videos
smile at me
like you do
i can't be
sure
Jack Piatt Oct 2011
Running and laughing
  As if
A fearless schoolgirl
Climbing through my mind
A playground for her games
My heart
  Wet leaves below her feet
  The veins bleed crimson into muddy puddles
As my feelings bubble to the surface
Unnoticed by the towering eyes above
The bell rings and she leaves me again
Nothing but lonely echoes of laughter
Shadowed smiles hidden behind a darkened stage
Waiting for the curtains to rise once more
One more show
As the actors take their places
The bell bites into awaiting eardrums
Feet pound and patter the ground
Jump ropes and monkey bars
Bouncing ***** and frisbees scraping gravel
Laughter fills my head like an aquarium
Tiny fish swim by oblivious
Completely unaware of my sponge-like brain
Retaining water
Slowly quieting
Drowning inside the water-filled glass cage
At last
        Thoughtless
Bubbles rise from deep below
As my heart pumps air and blood to my lifeless brain
All the while she climbs
And laughs
Playing so innocently
Yet intently
Absolutely ignorant to her power
Not realizing as she stares across the chess board
That her opponent’s brain has stopped
And he is now playing with his heart
Now easy prey
Young, injured, or old
Take your pick
He is the scent of blood to a hungry shark
In her child-like mind she continues to play
Still not sure as to the extent of the challenge
A blaring bell sounds off in the distance
One more day’s reprieve
The footsteps and the laughter subside
The curtains fall together
The stage again grows dark
The aquarium is quiet
My heart beats double time
Waiting until tomorrow
Waiting for her hands to begin the climb
Staring at my pieces on the board
Knowing I’m in check
Just waiting for
The mate
(c)
Brian Oarr Mar 2012
This sleepy little galaxy,
lost in the milieu of a billion others,
is filled with song and the finite
thrum of human hearts.

This glow-in-the-dark Milky Way,
whose pinwheel arms
are spun with satin stars,
emits Mozart from its crevices.

This nondescript spiral,
axled upon a super-massive black-hole,
frisbees across the universe,
curving it with the maths of Einstein.

Space travelers are we all,
learning the gravitation-crawl.
Look out universe, here comes humanity!
Robert C Howard Jul 2016
" It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews,
            Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and  
                Illuminations from one End of this Continent
                      to the other from this Time forward forever more.”
      John Adams – July 3, 1776.

Webster Groves - 2016

The Townhall fountain dances
cheerily in the morning sun.
The red-white-blue shirted crowd
rises as one for the colors.
Laughing children scramble for
tootsie rolls and sweet tarts
tossed by a strolling  clown.

         Philadelphia, July 3, 1776

        Carriages sped toward Philadelphia
        where resolute patriots
        would turn the pages of history
        and tell an unsuspecting world
        that a new nation had given birth to itself.


Sousa strains peal from the marching Statesmen,
Girl Scouts guide their well-groomed mounts -
hooves echoing through concrete caverns.
Vintage firetrucks and autos
sound their horns and sirens
as candidates work the crowd, pressing the flesh.

        Each crass insult from the British crown
        had tightened the noose on the colonial neck.
        The middle ground was soaked with patriot blood
        and revolution was the only course left.


Barbecue clouds drift over Pat and Lee’s farm
Horseshoes spin and clang and frisbees fly.
A ***-luck feast with beans and franks
interrupts the pop and glare of bottle rockets.

        One by one, each patriot quilled the parchment
        resolved to endure the costs of liberty -
        knowing to the marrow that defeat
        would spell certain ******* and death.


We reach the lakeshore at dusk -
unfolding chairs - spreading out blankets -
strains of Americana drift over the lake.
then a pyro-technic extravaganza
blazes across the summer sky.  

        Washingon’s tattered and bloodied men
        cornered Cornwallis at Yorktown.
        Then surrender - all British claims
        to American soil banished to the tomes of history.


The grand finale pummels the darkened sky
raising cheers and whistles from the crowd
Toddlers collapse in parental arms,
car doors slam, engines ignite
and head-lighted caravans, turn for home,
spiraling off in every compass degree.

“Happy birthday,” America and endless happy returns
"from this time forward forever more!”  

Robert Charles Howard
abcdefg Jan 2012
The bread blushes into a golden brown,
lettuce whispering to itself in the bowl
and Frisbees of cucumber at the bottom.
Later, men will grumble satisfactory masculinities
(bertha bertha you’ve done it again)
while dishes in women’s hands
laugh their way to the sink and
the yellow light inside keeps out the pitch black
universe beyond the light splashed windows.
Holly Salvatore Mar 2012
Daddy was a boy scout
Moss grew on his skin
He was green
And I didn’t know him then
He was eating out of Frisbees
Building fires with his friends
He was young
He was not my daddy then

Soon he was an eagle scout
He grew up way too fast
Flew away
To desert sun
Hard at work
In Cimarron

Daddy was a park ranger
Before he met my mom
Hiking in his short shorts
All over Yellowstone

Daddy was a husband
Honeymoons and holding hands
And fighting over money
Build the house
Mow the lawn
Take the kids to soccer

Daddy was a doctor
Sorting pills and giving shots
And taking care of Mom
Daddy was a nurse
Wiping brows
And blowing noses
Sitting up all night

Then
Daddy was a grave digger
One cloudy day in May
At St. Paul’s
He hurt his shoulder
Playing in the dirt
At St. Paul’s
He hurt his shoulder
Putting Mom back in the earth
Because Papa Bear says I never write about him
Jenny Cassell Oct 2009
Summer is

bikes and rollerblades
and go-carts and skateboards,
kites and frisbees
and ***** and gloves,

rainbows and suncatchers
and white fluffy clouds,
blue skies and green fields
and sunshine and flowers,

bare feet and sandy toes
and waves on the shore,
tan lines and sunburns
and goofy tourists,

yellow and orange
and summer rain,
butterflies and gardens
and fresh vegetables,

smiles and funny faces
and silly conversations,
smirks and giggles
and big belly laughs,

playing outside until the streetlights come on
and picking flowers for the dinner table,
building sandcastles just to knock them down
and shelling so many peas your finger go numb,
staring at a sky so blue it hurts your eyes
and running barefoot through the cool grass
and laughing so hard you can't even breathe.

Summer is.
Terry Collett Jan 2013
Mrs Dryden
sat behind you
on the beach
combing your hair

you watching
the racing tide
the sounds
on the shingle

the other people
sitting or walking
or playing ball
or flicking Frisbees

each to each
her fingers
parting strands
patting down

waves of hair
she maybe reflecting
on the night before
in the cheap hotel

the creaking bed
the second rate
furniture
the Full English breakfast

she having
a young guy
between her thighs
she spoke

of her husband’s failings
his betrayals
his preference
for younger women

you taking in
the scarcely cladded girls
sitting or walking the beach
out of your safety zone

out of reach  
and Mrs Dryden’s fingers
moving down your jowls
her lips kissing

your neck
at the back
her breath
whispering words

you thinking
of Miss Fox
the year before
how you nearly went

all the way
(as they used to say)
until her parents
came back home

too soon
spoilt the fun
of one on one
look at that ship

passing over there
Mrs Dryden said
pointing out to sea
her other hand

holding yours
her words carried
on the air
and you imagining

Miss Fox
maybe sitting there.
Del Maximo May 2014
beach’s brightness and heat
soothe weary skin and bones
so good to feel warmth upon shoulders
and sand between toes
reminiscing in familiar scents
of cool salty breezes
and warm sun tan lotions
shaded eyes swimming in clean ocean’s blueness
witnessing waves’ wonder
as a wet world walks onto a dry one
so many people seeking refuge
in rest and recreation
so many voices volleying beach *****
and tossing frisbees
so many feet leaving 1,000,000 footprints
rendered shapeless in loose grains
casting shadows in cups of sand
as day wanes and crowds disperse
curiosity ponders this micro desert of mini dunes
who has walked here through the eons?
who walks here still?
the setting sun shimmers on the sea
sparkling upon 1,000,000 crests
surface tension of the ocean’s tableau
rippled by wind and gravity
driven by earth’s rotation
forming floating cups of golden iridescence
resembling footprints in the sand
moved by their beauty, curiosity ponders
did someone walk upon these waters?
does someone walk there still?
© May 26, 2014
spysgrandson Dec 2015
3900 light years from earth
a mere 1.2 billion miles across,
makes me wonder who your master is
and what magic it takes to fill
your feeding bowl

I wish I could ****
the kiloparsecs keeping us apart
and see you, unleashed, maybe chasing
Frisbees left by the barking big bang

I hope you don't bite
I believe Canis Majoris, Big Dog, is the largest star yet discovered
Travis Barefoot Aug 2011
Does it exist?

I look down
The direction of sight, below the concrete rail
There’s grass and blankets, Frisbees and pups
And a vision of love gone right.

The hands intertwined are wrinkle lined
Worn out with age and aching
Rough from life’s work
Yet soft in the finger’s embrace.

Those hands have perhaps held a plow
A newborn aloft
A needle and thread in fine intricate work
A rifle in a foreign trench.

A pen pushing letters to form words
A gavel to hand down sentence
A mixing spoon and bowl
A handle of a coffin.

Maybe they’ve held an unopened letter
A glass raised in a toast
A wedding dress
A framed photo of someone lost.

Chalk in a classroom seminar
Hard packed snow ammunition
A nervous hand in a dark movie theater
Clean sheets of motel rooms.

They look up
Their direction of sight, above the girders
There are clouds and birds and me
Studying their hands holding on in lasting love.

They walk away
Hands still knotted
And it is my proof
Of a love like that.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Drones in the sky
Fleeing young couples game
Sick of shepherd's pie
Hunting different friendly animals
Nothing left to deny
A prayer for the near living
Wonder why so high
Defection from the starry heavens
Deify us an alibi
It was the woman you gave me
Move on to a new stimuli
So...you live around here often?
Joseph Simmons Jun 2013
Dumping skip-loads of furniture through the missing wall of my three-story house. Tossing a broken pool table with its hammered slate-top. Me and Max smashed it to pieces. We shook the whole house as if it were jelly, flavoured lime green and mixed in with insipid gobstoppers that block drains. One mahogany-stained side, with rusty poorly placed nails jutting out of it, flies through the air towards the arresting vistas in a makeshift panoramic frame. It frisbees, then falls. Falling like the leaves outside Carol and Dave’s place did, in the umami-infused oxygen. I have never tasted cleaner. They are graceful autumn helicopters that scythe the strings holding the world together. Until the world can repair, we are somewhere else.

The ******, mouldy wood flew like that. But, it cut the strings differently or severed different strings all together. Rain is curling the once neutral carpet, and I sit where I can see the mustard yellow skip receive another treasure.
OnwardFlame May 2016
Well hello again.
We missed you so well
So we all thought we would chime in
With our poppycock filled grins
Spiders and cheap whiskey demeanor
We got nothin' but each other
And that filmmaker, she's such a woman
She dreamed of us months before she met us.

We welcomed her in
With our spiders and our mildewed floors
Bathroom covered in abandoned tooth paste
And the girls we have ****** over before
We replace them so easily, so heartily
Its such a treat for us
Because you see, little mice in our eyes
We are our own make believe fraternity.

We aren't astronauts or engineers
We can't even sew, but we cook meals
Full of beans and sometimes fancy eggs
Or soggy pasta that we feed the hungry mouths
Of the girls we lure in
And make believe we want to marry
But really, oh really
We just worship in our little den
The notches on our belt
The longboards we ride
The hundreds of times
We made young girls cry.

We aren't evil
Not even sinister
Our brains just lack luster
But we try to make up for it
By huddling together.

Saint Louis, Saint Louis
We claim to be gentleman
Not all of us are all bad
But bad blood, man.

We have ink on our *****
Scores and the ****** we kick out
Before our D&D; days
And we aren't all bad
No, we aren't all bad
But we lack luster
And sure aren't brave.

I don't know what it will take
We induct new women into our cult
As we see fit
But once they turn over the table
We throw them out
Like the whiskey bottles hanging out of our mouthes
Just like mamas milk.

We are threatened by change
And Women Of The Now
So we poke fun, throw frisbees
And make it appear glamorous
But we aren't all bad
No we aren't all bad.

We are just really young
We don't know what we want
We prefer our mildew, our sweat, our residue
We recycle our women, herd our own cattle
Run from obligation, commitment
We would rather recycle, recycle
Pass around the same ball
Dress the same, ride the same longboards
Speak and ink our bodies
So that we never have to be so alone.

We are like sheep
With no shepherd
And the moment a strong force of nature
Encountered us
We guillotined her
She could have been one of us
Continued to play our game
But we very quickly saw
She was the lead honey bee
In every way.

So we sought her ****** out
Or perhaps she claimed her own
As she exited the premises of what we deem
The notorious "Brotel"
No longer smelling of mildew.
Or basement nights.
Card games introducing drunken betrayal
Or bowling alleys where we forgot our hearts
And recycled, recycled
We all might be the same
We might all be different
But we hide and we hurdle
The same ball on repeat.

She got out.
She flew the coop
She disappeared from us
Just like she warned us she would
Mystical. Magical. The Gypsy we called her
And once we got comfortable
Lemon.
And that she will always be
But we hurdle, we spike
We ignite only our own genitalia

She was too brave and ambitious for us
So we killed her with spite.
Lucy Tonic Dec 2011
Bared every piece of my soul
I knew how
Still these trees remain barer
Thrown a hundred frisbees in spring
Turned a thousand saucers in fall
Still pie in the sky wins
Watched a lot of people
Seen a ton of smiles
Still trust is obsolete
Walked a million streets or more
Tamed even more shoes
Still I’ve gotten nowhere
Read all the books they told me to
Seen all the classic flicks
Still most amazed by fire’s flicker
Every city seems the same
Every person less a wonder
Still they say life is wonderful
And the wedding gowns blend into the snow
I somehow like them better that way
Still one or the other seems off-white
Plucked the petals off a garden
Wished on endless shooting stars
Still no miracle of love
Kara MacLean Dec 2011
You like to pretend she's me, don't you Miss December?
When you watch the dice fall from her hands like they’re broken
Or when you accidently call my name down the abandoned streets,
But realize I have fallen off the map?

Miss December, do you remember watching me cry over girls in green and white?
Do you remember me tossing my textbooks down the hallway like Frisbees,
Only to have you chase me to the nearest empty corner?
My eyes would shutter like paper, and I would ask you to turn the page.

Do you notice the scars left on your ankle after a humid day?
Miss December, do you remember the days I spend mending your wounds?
Only to realize you were too broken and shattered for one woman to heal.
As if lightning through your temporal lobe would be the only escape to sanity.

I held your hand through dying dogs and relapse.
I told you, you could do anything.
Did I push you too hard and shatter the last glass?
Is that why you turned the purple car away that day?
Ryan P Kinney Apr 2015
Relics (House of Stolen Light)
by Ryan P. Kinney

When I pull up in my battle-scarred truck
That old song is playing on the radio
Whose lyrics I have misheard and, hell…
“Who did that **** song, anyways?”
Nonetheless, of what I do hear through the cracks and pops,
It definitely suits this house

It’s an old run down bi-level, with a winding porch
And more windows than walls
But the windows are heavily tinted and shades are all half drawn
The windows do not let the light into the home,
But rather steal it, consume it into the darkness, never to be seen again

How many neighborhood rumors revolved around this home?
For how long has it been whispered that THIS is THAT haunted house?
Or this is where that one creepy guy did that one horrific thing?
Or even that series of horrific things?

Did the boogie man originate here?
Inside the darkness of that house, stealing the sunshine from precocious little boys and girls
Finally freed from the confines of scholastic imprisonment
Until eventually their days of play started getting shorter
And they return to their nine months of confinement
With no one to blame but the invisible tenant of that ever decaying, but seemingly indestructible and insurmountable home

I imagine a stone in my hand
To be thrown into this house of glass
I picture it not breaking the glass so much as piercing a pool of darkness, that ripples across the entire house, melting each window and finally freeing everyone’s abducted childhoods
I see the sunlight exploding from the foundation
The cracked, brown leaves in every dead, broken tree suddenly springing to life and filling with green
Years of devoured Frisbees, kites, and baseballs launching into the air from every crevice

And then, I think, maybe appearances can be deceiving
Maybe, this house is not so much the spooky old ruin
But rather a cracked and worn old photo album
Housing years of relics of lives spent well and with love
Love that our generation could not possibly fathom
Devoid of the electronic means of expressing and spreading it

How many boys turned men turned soldiers here?
How many mothers turned grandmothers, turned cherished memories?
How many years were cried over scrapped knees and first loves?
Or spent on lover’s lanes, backyard barbeques, and drunken sibling brawls?
Is that old tire finally getting its deserved rest from someone’s swing, or off the wheels of a well-loved ancestor to my vehicle?
Who’s lives and legends were parked in this dusty driveway?
Who’s footprints am I standing in right now?

Maybe those dark windows never really robbed the light
But, rather were meant to hold it in for the love growing inside
So that anyone within would always feel its warmth and brightness
And anytime someone left that house, they returned that light to the world in kind
Richer and brighter than it ever would have been had it not spent its time within those walls

Who are you, oh house of stolen light?
What secrets do you hold?
How many childhoods were used up here, either stolen or spent fully?
What lives have you had?
What adventures can you tell me?

I smile.
“This is gonna be fun.”
As I kick in the front door
Liz Humphrey May 2012
When I look at a picture of me,  
I don’t really remember the person in the picture.
Who she was and how she saw the world.
I can educate my guesses.
But they are guesses only,
based on what I don’t really remember to be true.
Because I am not who I was (any number) of (anything) ago.
One, two, three, four:
years, months, weeks, days, hours, seconds,
ice cream cones eaten, smiles given, frisbees thrown, breaths taken.
I am the sum of all my moments,
all the years and months and ice cream cones and breaths.  
Every moment culminates in me.
And so when I look at a picture of me,
I see a piece of the person standing with a picture in her hand.
I see a moment of the baby, girl, woman who’s
loving and living and breathing
and adding her moments up.
I may not really remember her, but
I know she is still real.
A harsh Winter day , sweating copper , shoring ditches , sporting long johns and ***** coveralls , thankfully returning home to hot coffee and a chair in the kitchen ! Glance at a seashell on the window sill from Daytona Beach , recalling beautiful blue Summer days with Brown Pelicans , white seagulls and salt water taffy ! Ships on her horizon , children laughing with frisbees and sweet Summer memories ! What beautiful token from that magnificent coastland tempers a thick skinned , calloused workers train of thought such as mine this very evening ?
Copyright October 12 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
JP Mantler Aug 2015
Man plays his guitar as he sits in the grass
With Frisbees flying over his head
The man has a stash
Which gives us our moments
What makes things expensive
I don't understand
But what I know is that
living is the best I can

Peter Gabriel's got sun in his eyes
He's still searching but hasn't got a clue cause he's blind

What a sad picnic party and its melting form
Let's ditch this place so we don't have to mourn

Let's go away from the stupid, sad people

So      we     can      be        sad      on         our                      own
  Sad                on         our            own       on      our   own
Sad           on      and    off        and    on   and    off
     Sad    on  our           own              on         our   own       sad
Matty D Mar 2013
Months fly by, the seasons go
Springs into summer, fall leads to snow.
Dreadful hot Junes melt blizzard-filled Decembers,
While April and Autumn are hardly remember’d.

Times when trees begin to blossom,
Those with Frisbees start to toss ‘em.
When school lets out and the students cheer,
Forgetting the halfway point is here.
And when the leaves turn red and gold
Couples huddle to keep from the cold.
At last, when the first snowfall blankets the ground
We see the year has finally gone ‘round.

So the next time you have a dull moment
Do this, it will make you content:
Stop everything and look outside,
See what the world can do and provide.
And savor these moments for any reason,
Whether you’re sad, or in a different season.
August 4, 2009
©MDC
ohNoe May 2014
I have been beside her
  in joy and love.
Been inside her
  in joy and love.

I have seen straight into her soul,
  stared awe-struck in love a million-fold.
Been sent further than I knew you could go beyond control
  by the sweet succulent scent of her soul
    (it is trails & rivers & bamboo
      & cooking & kissing & always true
      & music & wild wonderful lover
      & absolutely amazing mother
      & blue eyes which made mine bluer
      & spinning fire & adventures
     it is staring into the sun without going blind
     it is the One Love i waited my entire life to find)

i worship and weep at an altar of forever remember
  where we bike and hike and soul-stare-share,
    make love anywhere
                      everywhere
                      sharing a shower
                      or a counter encounter,
    fling frisbees by our beach scenery
      before flinging footballs at a winery,
    toss pebbles at windows
      before she curls my toes,
    clown horn swarm her iphone
      as rock n roll ring tones
        rock n roll my real phone,
    fall asleep holding her
      happier than ever before,
    dream of years of days of seconds with her
      each somehow better than the one before,
    and awaken to the miracle of her
      even happier than ever before!

Then in a dead dream
  never to be our reality
    (aborted before my belief dream
       actually became our forever reality)
i somehow play guitar,
  become Yur miracle musician poet star,
and in a perfectly uncontrollable embrace
  You scream & whisper as You kiss my face,
and as we make each other *** & then some
  and tremble at the power of what we've become
we are dazzled by discussions of the future,
  of our family and activities and Love so pure!

Eventually i wake up
  why?
i hate when i wake up
  cry!

Shannon
  oh Shannon
    my Shannon
the One i waited forever for,
  why did You show me the sacred shore
    only to **** me and leave me bleeding in agonized gore

You are the Love of my life,
  i'll always wish You were my wife!
& with Z-O-E
  we were a family :)

**** You killed US,
  crushed and swept away the dust.
You loved me one day,
  the next You threw me away...

The 3rd day of February
  is when i ceased to be me.
There are sporadic moments
  where i'm almost clint
**** mostly i'm merely a regression
  into deeper darker depression....
Graff1980 Nov 2015
I live in a neighborhood were
Even if you got a job
You’re still barely getting by
Hardly get to live your life
When your bosses can work you
Anytime they like
Any shift day, or night,
Part, full, or overtime
While the yard gets grassy
Cops come passing out ordinance tickets
Frisbees float away falling into thickets
Surrounded by various forms of scrap metal
While bricks once baked and harden
Crumble to dust
The foundation cracks and busts
And your house comes crumbling down
Letting critters come and go
This is my block
What a shocking show
Anais Vionet Jul 7
Sunsets of a thousand colors,
jumping into crystal blue waters,
yeah, school's out for summer.

At first, it’s a shock - ignoring the clock,
we’re like prisoners set free
- for a two-month party
- and no responsibilities

Ditch the books ******* - you’re my tribe
- summer’s our vibe - it’s time to slip-n-slide.

Barbeque, corn on the cob, juicy peaches,
lemonade, popsicles, hot sandy beaches,
thunderstorms, short shorts, cotton candy clouds,
let's get a little too silly and a little too loud.

Coleslaw, hotdogs, sharing French fries
Charles smokin' ribs, burgers piled high,
lounging by the pool, with friends dropping by.

Sunglasses, flip-flops, midnight walks, crop tops,
sunrise mornings, throwing frisbees in the park

Playlist DJ’n, the bare feet are tappin', we’re TikTok dancin’,
and, truth or dare, I’m seeing a couple of new romances.

Ferris wheel spinnin', funnel-cake eatin’, roller coaster screamin’,
the kettle-corn’s poppin’ for rom-com streamin’ and reality-TVing.

My mom asked, “Why are you girls all sleeping in one room?”
The answer? “Cause there ain’t no cure for the summertime snooze”

Why doesn’t someone make a sunblock perfume?

Umbrellas, watermelons, 3am dips, Taco Bell trips
and roasting marshmallows on the poolside fire-pit

Beach towels spread like butterfly wings,
hey, our tans are starting to match our bikinis!

Come on, relax, have an ice-cold martini.
We’re not doin’ nothin' - we’re makin’ memories!
kaycog Jun 2016
My summer was spent under a grand oak tree
We would laugh, we would talk, and throw frisbees
Bugs would crawl over fingers when we sat in the grass
And clovers were plucked as kisses were passed

Our Fall then came, no, seventeen didn't last
That oak grew still, and you stayed in my past
(and get out)
Journey of Days Aug 2017
tumbling up hills while running through air
singing songs underwater
lakes floating in space
spinning in circles and drawing  straight lines
needing to start but can’t find my pen
answering doors with nobody there
diving through snow escaping the heat
feeling my way through clouds that talk
wanting to wake but finding no strength
trying to speak with sand on my teeth
sweeping the floor and shifting the walls
chanting the prayers
throwing frisbees of lace
how can I sprint with skis on my feet
raging red sun bursting with ice
crazy these dreams unpacking my head

@journeyofdays
taking the last line of “falling”
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2090144/falling/
after a week of crazy dreams
something in wind?

***challenge - give me a crazy line from your dreams #crazydreamline ***
Stephanie Hutson Jun 2017
We ended rough
Like the dreams of dried maple leaves
So let me tell you this
Thank you
Thank you for warming my heart on cold nights
Like hot chocolate in the rain
Even though the illusion of you
Took the whole of my brain
Thank you for the long nights
When I couldn't bring myself to stop reading your words
Or going over them again and again in my head
Thank you for letting me hold on
Little do you know the many times you saved me
Even though it killed me
Thank you for showing me that someone could care
Even if not for too long
Thank you for teaching me to see the stars
The moon and every constellation lit my way through the darkest nights
Thank you for the good memories
From frisbees to video games
You made me smile
You made me cry
But most of all
You were there
Now I have people to turn to when times get tough
The more distant moments when I remember you're not here
The Fire Burns May 2019
Waffle-like prints in the sand,
maple syrup sun pours across the land,
sunrise beach bulldozed clean,
sandhill dunes growing green.

Opalescent sheen of mother of pearl,
old oyster shells spin and whirl,
the waves come in with a slap,
seagull wings beat and flap.

Sand dollars here, but no change,
the crab runs sideways it's quite strange,
bottlenose dolphin swims right by,
the sun climbs higher in the sky.

Jelly fish, opaque blue balloon,
sandpipers squeak out a tune,
colored clams exposed with every wave,
they dig in fast like crawling in a grave.

No longer alone as the day begins,
kites now fly in the onshore wind,
parents and children, with frisbees and nets,
picnics to come and skin surfing I'll bet.
David Lessard Jul 2017
People lounging on the grass
the tents, they form design,
displaying wares that no one buys,
the walkers stroll with their canine.

Arts and crafts and food vendors,
it's a human carnival;
they're shaded by the trees,
the shapely elms stand tall.

The boys are throwing Frisbees,
there are picnics in the making;
there are people in the shade,
it looks like naps they're taking.

It's noon-time at he Courthouse square,
and the fair is simply bustling;
panhandlers at the corners,
it looks like they are hustling.

I take the public viewing in,
amused at their charade;
the only thing that's lacking...
tomorrow's grand parade!
Summer fun.
Dave Robertson Aug 2020
Remember the sandwich of youth?

On a drizzly beach with actual sand,
the grit crunch making things somehow better
for the supermarket cheddar
and margarine on sliced white

Let the memories come

The loved ones flinging frisbees,
or playing impossible cricket matches,
grand unplanned architecture,
studded with dead shells,
monuments to a hopeful utopia,
collapsed by the heavy-heeled truths of vengeful siblings
or everyday tides

Sea air makes you hungry and tired,
content,
like life and years try
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
The game Wii or We_
and never wear me out
You're the roundabout
All He  etc, etc,
It's now or never
She?
No-one ever loved you
As long as me
So SGT. Pepper lonely
We never were
?
Hearts eating the club
sandwich

Ringo the drummer
We were never the
noses those yenta's
The fan- open-switch
We could never be his
Manwich go -fetch

Like the Walrus-wish
Our sign was never
The tear-jerker like
Taurus a light match
Matador bull

The ******* Barrel South
witch, this world is a glitch
The dark sunnyside turf
Boris Karloff
I see the moon arising
Wolfe, not Bruce Lee

The Madmen Mr.Softee
For sale
Love notes in San Diego
The campfire with
Eggnog Amazon Congo
We never enjoyed
Eggo well red-breasted
( Robin) took the eggrolls
left her boys sesame seeds
In their hoods

So many milestones
The ringtones new cellphones
((Hello))zip the lip Zorro
Cup of Joes Muffler sounds
of Moes

Beef gravy Sandwiches
Curly
- top fries
Oh! Yes Arby's going
beyond a dollar Uber car
Unique breeds of dogs

Became a horse of Oz
The Wiz of frisbees
We never got to really see
What we never were

Not behaving love
attachments
Star Wars, No discount on
Starbucks
After Christmas past
coffee ghost the blind host

Forest Gumps Ba Ba shrimp
If this was twenty years ago
I would never see the
mobile phone of Trumps

Like Space Alein ET
Taking the city train
You got taken
From a B.L.T
yummy
***

You're with your wife
That's life she wants all 
Your cards etc
The Cheese Gigilo
The wine's computer
mouse
The spouse of the day
websites I smell a rat

How I felt so grieved
Even if I was getting
money how long
I mourned
Your next door
neighbor
he borrowed money
He said he will give
it back
He will never give
it back
All you could do is
smile back
Her's, Purs, furs, bars
E-bay other peoples identity
Selling your books with
their names
Refurbished cars
His health drinks
We never saw it coming
to his death the last
strawwhat health

Gym with him wealth etc
Pix, Canadian cups
Venus, burn those
Divas leave me
The expensive plastic Visa
The Candy Man Miss barb-wire
barbecue hamburgers hotdog
Eating animals like cannibals

The soul man and he's never eating
The Slim man
__
The piano when you're a
stranger some enchanted
evening Uptown Girl
Just put your key in
her car and leave her
Go-flirt
Flag down someone else's
dirt
Zigzags or Jag-Jaguar
Billy Joel tiger fuel
Walk like a man
and women talk
To be stalked
Your  eyes up
Meals on wheels
Candy canes Black/Blue canes
Who wants to be a senior

These discounts are S--T!!
But the senior prom
Were are you from?

Sick-land  meet
Disneyland
Another round
Robin drinkers
Heres to the world
we never were
Go out and celebrate
We never realize
It's never too late
The comical rundown on we never everything is classified with never but please its fun time things will get better

— The End —