"jules" poems
grow a beard...
buy a jazz double-bass...
start stroking it...
attempt to look
pensive...
and then write some
Cockney
comedy... and?
**** Oxford.
**** 'em good;
can't be,
******* arsed...
where's a *******
jazz double bass
the kind i need to stand up
to play?!
where?!
gone, "nowhere"...
Achilles would sooner
find a tortoise,
you ******* half-whit
bull bullock base catcher...
yummy yummy...
no ******* double whammy
if there ain't
a greasy dough nnnnnnnn
in my mouth oozing a squid's
mating call...
from the Jules Verne estimate
of how...
big the ******* could become...
oh please...
**** is a conjunction
word...
akin to and...
spew effect,
regurgitation, founded upon...
so...
so... farting in a public place
is less offensive than
uttering a word of oath?!
**** me...
more ****
less ***** images...
i guess that's how you
habitually attack Christian
h'america...
**** **** **** and impose
a curb of a ***** show me the puppies
kitchen ***** Kentucky style
****
******* wankers...
dreaming up some ****
in long lost Cockney rhyming
slang for some:
willkommen zu verirrt amstetten...
....................
...................................
..............
................
SCHMILE...
boorish ******* gnomes dancing
the leprechaun gamblers' dance...
skivvy *************
sure...
censor the words...
but god forbid you censor
showing all the *******
because... if you do?
guess what...
i might forget my farming impulse...
of imagining a
a cleavage to also imply
a pork buttocks...
funny...
how a show of cleavage is synonymous
with a show of pork
buttocks...
and then i begin thinking of
milking...
which throws a ***** **** out
with the baby and the bathwater
and... i'm shinging...
what's that name of the place?!
New Orleans!
yeah...
like some minstrel in that
part of the world that
part of the world that's
a ********
what?!
you spew on me...
i spew on you...
we can at least exchange...
what we "love" about each other...
but i implore!
i implore!
visit Warsaw!
alone... no, not with other people...
ah-loan - a-l-o-n-e....
i'll be your companion,
when you peer at your shadow,
and attempt, to pretend,
to disappear.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
In toasting Mike I recollect
His steady watching gaze,
I recollect his calm
On a thousand stormy days.
I recall his jaunty humour
In his funny cockney style,
And the rationale behind it
And the pleasure of his smile.
And the quiet determination
In the steeliness within
And the love that emanated
When his Jules laughed loud with him.
When he held her hand and strolled
In the life they shared as one,
In the racket of the grand kids
As they shout and leap and run.
Through the years of hardy seamanship
From England's chalky reach,
Across the ocean's vastness
To far antipodean beach,
To the soft greens of New Zealand
And the promise of this land
And the shining eyes of Jules
When he offered her his hand.
And the life they shared together
Through the joy, the strain the tears
The utter joy of baby Kristin
And her beauty through the years.
The seamlessness of craftmanship
In tradesman's art supreme
And the pride of his achievement
In a sweet successful dream.
A chasm has appeared in life
Where old Mike used to be.
Dreadfull death has exercised
It's right to set him free.
But I can't feel bad for Micheal
For the brilliance of it all
Is celebration of his life well lived
And my toast to judgement's call.
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
10 January 2010.
Jan 10, 2010
Jan 10, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
to my Madolyn, Rob , Soliana, Malak, Pinkpearl, Daniel, BJ, Miki, Jules, Willow, Poets Rain, Her, Ashan, Billy, Katelyn, Kirstens, Leah, Emily, Liz, Skyler, HB, Danielle, Robin, Lynnie, Veer, Abigail, and Fawn
We haven't been here long
At all
But your support has been
overwhelming
...to us at least
We haven't written masterpieces
At all
But your responses have been
overpowering
...to us at least
Know we notice you,
Know we recognize you,
and try to get to know you
through the words you present
We could never repay you
At all
But, please, don't forget
we love you
...to say the least
We are honored
We will always work to honor you
Sincerely yours,
A&T (seriously not a ripoff)
P.S.
I can't handle anymore people so you guys are going to have
to help me ****** anyone new coming over. I'll pay.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:38 AM UTC
1.complete th bridge to the moon started by
Jules Verne and raise the Nautilus..
2.Rebuild the colossus of Rhodes to spec.
3.Take a trip to John Gotti's summer home and split a bottle of Boones
Farm apple wine with him and Emelia.
4. Pull a small sample of bone marrow from Hitlers shriveled corpse for a
Little cloning project that I have been working on.
5.get a head count on all the politicians in the capital who don't consider
Their position a life long free ride with no accountability to the masses..
6. Resurect the cold fusion argument.
7. Run a sub 2 minute mile.
8.kick Tysons but with my right hand tied.
9.mix the perfect martini
10. Start all over again.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
Man and mouse holding hands, beholding
what they have done together.
A magic Marcelline, MO:
a portal to lands that beckon, but never compel.
Trees, silent water, castle walls dividing
off magic gardens and sacred
spaces.Tiki torches leading in
to a real rainforest with fake animals,
fedora'd adventurers and no dust
or hunger or poison. A whilring, infernal
rocket sprung from the mind
of Jules Verne, raisng your hopes that
one day you'll own that jetpack,
flying car, ticket to the moon.
A fairytale castle, draw-bridge down—
a glittering carousel inviting from behind forbidding walls.
A fort with wide open doors that fear only animatronic
Indians and where every frontiersman is a hero to be
emulated by your children.
You need not choose right away.
No need to be hasty. If you wish, you may
choose to stay here, to linger, the aroma of the popcorn
cart competing with the fragrance
of the popcorn blossoms on the sheltering trees
and the flowerbeds decorating, protecting
Walt's silent, inanimate memorial,
until the stars come out and
the crickets chirp in the voice of a
conscience content, and popcorn
lights form haunting outlines, constellations
telling whispered stories and seductively
suggesting that tomorrow you stand
in line for a new ride: falling in
love, signing the papers, applying
for that loan, giving it just
one more chance. Here, you cannot
sleep, but you will dream.
And rest in the heart, in the womb.
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
When I look in the mirror my heart
stops, I can hear my soul weeping.
I am confused, that is not the image I
expected, certainly not what my brain
anticipated. So many miles I put
between us,
I called, but my subconscious would
change the frequency of the calls with
each passing year. Over a decade and
a half I prevented myself from letting
sand gently tickle my feet, waves relax
my soul, and sea breeze whispers in
my ears. Not able to reflect and re-live
times filled with music, dancing,
learning to love, and learning to enjoy
a colorful culture that despite pitfalls,
obstacles, and oppression, manages to
rise above all and shine, to light up
our path to greatness and show the
sacrifices our ancestors made
so we don’t forget where we come
from and where we have to go.
I look in the mirror once more,
nothing has changed, same image,
now it is staring… I blinked, it is gone.
my dream quickly becomes a
nightmare, the image jumps out of the
mirror and gives chase, I’m not fast
enough.
I am him—He is me, I am cursed!
I am flying, no destination, no horizon,
visibility is very low, I grow tired.
another dream turning nightmare.
same mirror, same image, I ‘m not
running, not scared, never really was.
I turned around to see the image
turning into a beast.
I am no longer him—He is no longer
me. He tries to reach me, tries to talk
to me, he seems to be paralyzed,
frustrated, mute, impotent. I feel sorry
for the beast as he is now powerless,
sad, and alone.
I am flying, I see the horizon, I have a
destination.
I am tired no more… I have a purpose.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 7:05 AM UTC
As far back as I can remember, i always wanted to be a gangster.
-Quote by Ray liotta in good fellas movie.-
“Nothing personal, it’s just business” ~ Otto Berman
“Las Vegas turns women into men and men into idiots.” ~ Bugsy Siegel.
“This life of ours, this is a wonderful life. If you can get through life like this and get away with it, hey, that’s great. But its very, very unpredictable. There’s so many ways you can ***** it up.” ~ Paul Castellano
Thirty-two hundred dollars he gave me. Thirty-two hundred dollars for a lifetime. It wasn’t even enough to pay for the coffin.” (ray liotta as Henry hill) good fellas movie.
“I hate to say this, but this place is getting to me. I think I’m getting the fear.” Dr. Gonzo( fear and loathing in Las Vegas)
“If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.” Jules. ( movie pulp fiction with John travolta and Samuel l. Jackson. Also starring bruce Willis.)
“No matter how big a guy might be, Nicky would take him on. You beat Nicky with fists, he comes back with a bat. You beat him with a knife, he comes back with a gun. And you beat him
with a gun, you better **** him, because he’ll keep comin’ back and back
until one of you is dead.” Ace Rothstein ( movie Casino) Robert deniro, Joe pesci.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
he had folded photos of Anita Page above his cot,
and a melancholy little crucifix,
and, of course, a long-winded letter from his mum.
he dipped tobacco and always tried to spit it on the barrack’s ceiling.
he would squander half of his canteen on his hair, if it got too muddy in the trenches.
he whittled a bar of soap into a horse one time,
and then washed himself with it right afterwards.
he always put on his cap at this saucy sort of angle,
even though there never was a lady around to woo.
once i saw him read Jules Verne, and I asked him about it,
and he said “Who? You know I can’t read for squat.”
he was a funny man, you know, a guy that makes life feel good.
two days ago i saw his lungs throb against the walls of his ribcage,
i saw his adam’s apple swell up rotten, and his neck grow thick and veiny.
his muscles spasmed and his orifices emptied and all i could think was
how worthless it is to carve a horse out of soap and then soak it to nothing right after?
it makes me wonder why someone would bother
whittling in the first place.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 11:18 PM UTC
Phileas Fogg,
On a brigantine sledge,
Braved the Omaha wind
As it twirled.
So, Jules Verne might say
That a full eighty days
Is plenty to travel the world.
Amelia Earhart
Crossed the sea –
The quickliest feat
…For a girl –
In twelve hundred forty
Short minutes, you know:
Others failed, but gave it a whirl.
Rosemary Doyle,
Our wonderful mum,
Exceeded these
Feats of grand scale!
She has crossed oceans faster,
Breezed over Great Plains,
And – without perspiration – prevailed!
Carefully, casually,
She raised five kids:
‘Neath our burden
She never collapsed.
Loving and giving
Us lives we are living.
Have there – really – eight decades elapsed?
Octogenarian?
Silliest word:
It sounds like
A sea creature’s vet,
But if you want true fun,
Then just orbit the sun
Eighty times, like our mom: It’s no sweat!
© 2Mar2018 DracoTalpus
For Rosemary N. Doyle
On the occasion of her 80th birthday
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
As a canvas of naked beathy I trace every curve loving every moment when her sweet skin is pressed against
mine.
Her moans A music to fill the darkness of a passion filled night.
Kissing lips tasting the sweetness of desire her body the vesssel of my love.
Inside the softness are plessure building her love free as inside her i drive myself
yerning for this moment to never end.
Love is eternal *** is a action that only brings us togather as one.
A storm of emotions and a valley of plessure as we explore are bodys
togather one night of many of a eternal passion.
Her legs around my waist back against the wall bodys apart souls togather.
her plessure my passion sweat laced slumber as togather we came.
as in gentle slumber i brush her hair aside from her neck.
marvle at my angel so sweet within my arms.
As she turns to me looking so deeply beyond all i am not.
And seeing her lover and her friend she takes my inside her
as we make love through the nights plessure casting aside the past and its
pain.
In her eyes I see all that I never knew i could be.
Her eyes that touch my soul and melt the flesh.
Words unspoken her body so perfect as if made for my arms.
This night eternal you've cast over every day.
Julie Elizbeth Robbins.
You know the ocean of my soul and it yerns for you to forever stay.
I could never say everything you are to me Jules.
are road has been long but all I know is that.
you are my passion and the life blood to my soul.
For we know what other's few ever will
love eternal babydoll John.
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 12:13 PM UTC
I love you honey bunny
he says as if Jules is a seat ahead of us
with a gun pointed straight at his nuts.
Then you have Dylan making your throat red raw
before the words have even slipped off your tongue.
The jump from teenage delinquency to normal relations
was harder than I thought after all.
Olivia's paranoia ensues on to the next golden boy
and Jill's left ****** is the only joy I feel I bring to the table.
Every tacky horoscope site tells me you and I are simpatico
my head on the other hand is knee deep in delusions
of fates paths ruined and fates paths missed on both ends.
I've foolishly given you my all
and I foolishly anticipate the fall.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
Sometimes when i say goodbye.
I wonder how I hold it togather befor
the phone touches the reciever.
Does she know the pain I mask.
Memories make us drunk with emotion.
Time makes us bitter from the cold.
And in the darkness she brings light.
Under the ice she creates warmth.
She kisses the past away.
My shelter in which to run
If I choose to lead so does she follow.
Two halfs of one heart.
Weve walked across broken glass to lay
in a feather bed.
The nights passionet flow
her head apon my chest.
And how could I find one so perfect for me.
Distance takes the heart and traces the tear.
Such comfort brought from the understanding.
That pain would be erased if she were here.
Jules i see that next day as a promise
set in stone.
That from that first hello
we found in one another a reason to never be alone.
The highway rolls into the horizen
eternal is the love.
As a sun sets apon the ocean we stand
my arms wrapped around you waves crash into the shore.
In love I give everything.
For i could spend a lifetime here with you.
And still thirst for more.
With words we struggle to say.
What flows from the pen.
Also bleeds form the soul and that
shall never go away.
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 6:59 AM UTC
Dear Julie,
**** you right back
or should I say jules
**** you jules
with your stupid dumb name
your no jewel
your smile may sparkle
but your heart is made of coal
you try to hate me with your letters and words
you may even think you do
but you love me
I've got that bad boy edge
and all you've got is that vape
your goofy laugh bursts without warning
i may go deaf if it happens again
dear god please let me go deaf
i wouldn't have to hear your slanted remarks
always trying to cut deep with old memories
but you are the one thats still bleeding
you don't even have a shower to wash it away
i still have you around my finger
writing poems in exchange of a fake reason to come hang out
don't even try to deny it
cuz I'm the ****
and you just stink
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 6:05 AM UTC
From when I was a little child
I picked up on thought and sound
It isn't always visible but it is still around.
It's the talent and the beauty
The poetry of life
You find it in a sonnet
Or the colours of Monet
In Pavarotti's voice
The world just melts away.
Shakespeare's words? They drip like honey
And illuminate the stage
It sends shivers up the spine
What Wordsworth scribbled on a page.
Jules Verne could tell the future
Da Vinci saw what was to be
Their vision shaped the world we know
Now that is great to me.
Does it have a name?
What Rembrant found within his art?
That secret, silent something
That burns within the heart.
As a child Wolfgang Mozart
Drew everybody's gaze
He serenaded Europe
Wrote music to amaze.
Was Bogart such a legend?
Now, don't speak before you think
Not everyone can breathe life into
A person made of ink.
The passion is alive
It lives inside the soul.
When pen is put to paper
Or the bow goes to the string
When that magic is embodied
We hear the angels sing.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 7:47 PM UTC
Jax,Lily,Flawless,Marta,Dr.Shweta,Shiv,Neeraj,Dg.
Emeka,Miss,Jules,Bridgett,Salim, Joceyn,memoona.
Sampreeta,daud,Stephanie,Grace,No name,Eloisa.
Hijenduanao,Kauthar,Damien,Joye,Marta,Narendra.
Jolene, Perry, Freebird,Surbhi,Godawan,Ikimi,tm,
Xaela,try,S Nirmal,Astrea,Erin,Mindless,Lace,HB.
AP,Timur,Kasidee,Caterra,the untold,Melancholy.
Melanie,mckenzie, clark,beebz,sherri,bryan,bakunawa.
khaliyah,brianna,Ay2brutus,Angel-like,Maxx,Lure ***
Mike, me zeal, Kim,Kim,Maeiby,Shanath,Marshall,xallan.
Weeping Willow,Mike Hauser,Serena,AnnMarie,DavidLewis.
JenniferJohnson, itgonnamakesense,Mike Essiq,Nancy.
Olivia,Paul,Mark,Phil,PoetressBhumi and Wilyam Pax.
Here some more love you all, I pray that you are blessed.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
I wanted to thank you all for reading, commenting and enjoying my poems. This site mean the absolute world to me. A year ago ago today, I was told to deal with my metal illness myself. I decided to sign up for this website Hello Poetry. I sent in a crabby poem (My Friend Fear) and within hours I was accepted. I then wrote Depression is my Soulmate ( on my mothers birthday.... Happy Birthday Mom) That was the first poem I wrote just for this site. I thought it was too sad and went to delete it. To my surprise it trended and had so many amazing comment. Now that poem is at 8.5k views! Although that sad depressed little girl had no idea how worse things would get. You all helped me build myself back up.
Through my eating disorder or suicide note you all have given me so much love and support. Thank you!!
I cant forget "It" I wrote that while having a panic attack outside of a store that my mind wouldnt let me go in. To have that poem reach so many people makes me tear up ...just thank you.
I couldn't write this without mentioning the greatest part of my Hello Poetry experience.
I met my rock, my other half, my favorite person, my bestest of friends.... Jules
You will here this whole speech all over again because its soon our one year anniversary too. Thank you Hello Poetry for letting me met the best person I've ever known. I couldn't have survived last year without all of you... thank you!!!
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 11:24 AM UTC
In the First Kingdom, you find the following... a wave and a cataract for swallowing
and shabby hats.
In the Second Kingdom, Jules Verne hates broccoli and the moon is made of lost keys.
In the Third Kingdom, God knows why you keep breathing while He holds His Breath.
In the Fourth Kingdom, there's nothing There.
In the Fifth Kingdom, Nothing comes after Four.
In the Sixth Kingdom, your hands have a score to settle with the Architect, but you have no hands.
In the Seventh Kingdom,you're naked all the time and every one makes love to you.
In the Eighth Kingdom, the Devil is a Nancy Lad with no agenda
and a distorted corona. And Applebee's are Orange-hornets, thank you very much.
And this poem haunts your spleen.
In the Ninth, you were there
but then
we lost
you at
the
Fair.
and that was sweet.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
Jules Leblanc
The sweetest girl ever
Oh, Dearest Jules
You are my only friend
You are lovely as a sister
You are the bestest sister to Hayley
Jules Leblanc
The amazing girl ever
Who is kind, caring and friendly
You are the best person I have know
In my entire life since I was 13
Jules Leblanc
I love you so
Jules, My Dear Jules
You are one of the best
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 6:20 AM UTC
If I made a list of things
I would like to own
It would have
A garden on the roof,
Maybe a pipe that I wouldn't even use,
A collection of every Smiths' record,
A yellow bird that I would call Jules,
I'm not sure,
I could do with a bottle of Perrier right now,
Oh and my own house
Right by the sea.
I don't care about the order
I just know
That right on the top
It would have
you.
F.Z.N
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
There was once a fella named Jules
Who packed his bags, and got nothing to lose
Before he passed away,
His mother was sick
Dad went off his own way.
Jules went on to a life worth knowing;
That to love is to heal
And we learn by hurting
As he was leaving
He looked on a picture
Of a former lover who hate him
He felt nothing but one thing
That she loved him dearly.
He went to the bath
Closed the door behind his back
Laid down on the floor
With mom and dad.
As he stared at their lifeless bodies.
He shared them a laugh:
"Mom, dad... your son was bad"
Sirens wail from a distance
As I stared on the floor and caressed
My dear Jules' head
"Oh what fools we have become"
"I wish I was there"
...He did what he needs done
For he still does care.
Feb 21, 2022
Feb 21, 2022 at 8:57 PM UTC
Jules why did we come here? We're walking across wet sand and hugging onto boulders, that are boomerang shaped. You hold an electric lantern and glow with light, as you walk along the shore. The stars shine brilliantly and I am sad because you don't look at me look the way you look at that lion-shaped rock.
I chew on gum and try to forget about the fact that you're puffing on a Marlboro light. My Uncle died of cancer two months ago, and this is why I now chew on dentine ice. You tell me to stop smacking my lips. I want to push you in your chest, grab your cigarette, and burn a hole in your cardigan. But I bought that cardigan for you last Christmas. It cost a whole paycheck.
I need a better job. But you got me that job. So at the same time, I'm grateful to work at a country club, sweeping the tennis courts with a broom, as I watch young people swing and miss with their racquets. The clouds begin to darken and cluster above the beach. My knee shakes violently and I know it's about to thunder and boom with hard rain.
I open my mouth and try to put my arm around you, pulling you in closer. But you start to climb a rock, crawling on its lopsided surface, and digging your heels into its cracks. You toss the Marlboro **** and brighten the intensity on the lantern. The light spreads across the rock and the beach, like glass shattering onto a tiled floor. You hold the bright lantern in front of your face.
I can no longer see your brown eyes, your black, curly hair, and your jagged nose. You look at me. But all I see is that bright and shining light covering and shrouding your silhouette. You turn right and stare affectionately at the lion shaped rock. I swallow my gum. I pick the cigarette pack from the sandy floor. I flick the lighter. My eyes close.
I miss you.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
So now the thing is over
all the pundits have gone back home
and the Rimet Trophy has been put away
to be played for again another day
some managers will now lose their teams
for not fulfilling a nation’s dreams.
But it is football, just a game
men paid so much, disgraceful shame
while others struggle to put food on the table
players cavorted like Betty Grable
but we watched it still – we cannot stop
I wonder when the penny will drop.
I remember pictures in black and white
when games were played in failing light
where players had jobs to earn their pay
and played the game on Saturday
where then the ref’s decision was law
and players didn't roll round on the floor.
Those days are gone and that’s for sure
the ***** were heavy and kit was poor
but player’s hearts were in the game
and not the glory of fleeting fame
when celebrity wasn't theme of the day
for men oft found to have ‘feet of clay’.
©Joe Wilson – The Jules Rimet 2014
I can still remember Franz Beckenbauer playing on after breaking his arm, simply by wearing a black sling to support it…a sight you wouldn't see today.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 5:23 PM UTC