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by Dave
Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1236257
A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination.
A sig awarded for winning "The Anything Goes Poetry Contest"

A log of our magnificent journey.

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April 9, 2024 at 4:23pm
April 9, 2024 at 4:23pm
#1068274
After nine[eleven tragedy,
my brother John felt the need to serve,
so he enlisted in Marines
and went off to fight in combat--
so brave!

Over there, he met his destiny--
a fate he surely did not deserve,
when bomb blew him to smithereens.
So, now we gather with Mom at
his grave.


Notes on the Brady's Touch form of poetry
March 23, 2024 at 12:07pm
March 23, 2024 at 12:07pm
#1066777
There once was a jolly Limerick
who went about playing his schtick.
He made people laugh
with his goofy gaffe.
He's not insane, just a lunatic.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPP5IaGGWZ8
February 23, 2024 at 2:54pm
February 23, 2024 at 2:54pm
#1064745
My uncle Henry's appetite for life
made him want to sample its cuisine
through periods of happiness and strife.
He decided to become a Marine.

Wanting to sample life's cuisine,
he disregarded latent powder keg
and decided to become a Marine,
came back from Iraq with only one leg.

After disregarding latent powder keg,
he always kept a smile across his face,
even though he had only one leg,
conducted himself with amazing grace.

He always had a smile across his face,
despite the handicap of injuries,
conducted himself with amazing grace
and disclosed a few courage recipes.

Despite the handicap of injuries,
he demonstrated convalescent flair
and disclosed a few courage recipes,
learned to play basketball in a wheelchair.

He demonstrated convalescent flair
through periods of happiness and strife,
learned to pley basketball in a wheelchair--
my uncle Henry's appetite for life.


Notes on the Pantoum form of poetry
January 30, 2024 at 10:17am
January 30, 2024 at 10:17am
#1063178
My uncle Igor spent his days transporting clients from hospitals and hospice homes to the Serenity Funeral Home for processing.

There, with that black patch over his right eye, he kept shifting his head at odd angles to get the proper shade, as he applied rouge on the cheeks in an attempt to restore some semblance of vitality to each of those cadavers. He tied his long gray hair back in a ponytail to keep it from obstructing his already limited view.

Sweet Melissa Simpson, only eighteen years old, presented a particularly difficult circumstance, due to the damage done in that automobile accident. (When will people come to understand the importance of buckling seat belts?) However, Igor met the challenge head on. Applying techniques developed over the years, he primped, prodded, and poked her carcass in preparation for her final visitation. The stench of chemicals required to clean the remains did not bother him at all. By the time he finished, the young woman appeared ready to wake up from her nap and attend her senior prom in that lavender gown.

After his day among the dead, he would stop off at the Frankendale Florist Shop to pick up some flowers for the resting places of former clients. Moonflowers for his beloved wife Auntie Esmeralda. Roses for the more traditional bunch. Old man McAlister preferred geraniums, because that was what his wife planted in their garden. Of course, she was another of Igor's clients. While delivering those tributes, his rich baritone voice rolled across the cemetery grounds and invaded the dreams of residents in surrounding neighborhoods, as he serenaded those who have moved on to a higher place.

Last Friday, Uncle Igor made one last trip to the Serenity Funeral Home after his daughter found him unresponsive in his bed. Applying techniques he had taught her over the years, his young assistant Dorothea primped, prodded, and poked his carcass in preparation for his final visitation.

Would you be available to serenade him in his crypt? My truck driving travels will keep me away, and his daughter's night nurse job at St. Francis Hospital will prevent her from doing so.


359 words

January 18, 2024 at 4:47pm
January 18, 2024 at 4:47pm
#1062614
Frigid
Arctic air
descends upon us,
wreaking havoc without mercy.
Ouch!


Notes on the Elevenie/Elfchie form of poetry



Let the creativity flow from your soul! *Cool*
Dave
"The Poet's Place
"CLOSED - Review a Newbie


Let the creativity flow from your soul! *Cool*
Dave
"The Poet's Place
"CLOSED - Review a Newbie
January 16, 2024 at 2:53pm
January 16, 2024 at 2:53pm
#1062488
Our military mission supercedes
any personal desires we may hold.
Whenever we receive the order,
we are on our way to whatever waits,
prepared to do anything required,
however circumstance may unfold
to demonstrate American resolve--
one of our predominant traits.

Our military mission means Christmas
is often spent in faraway positions.
Whenever separation burdens us,
we get a little Face Time on the iPhone,
prepared to do our sacred duty,
despite the holiday conditions,
to demonstrate our commitment
to our vows in the battle zone.

Our military mission continues
from generation to generation.
Whenever the need arises,
we drop whatever and go again,
prepared to follow patriotic path,
despite the risk of conflagration,
to demonstrate persistent belief
in such a justified campaign.


Pattern

January 1, 2024 at 10:28am
January 1, 2024 at 10:28am
#1061671
Wandering here and there,
from mountain to the sea,
wherever it may be,
as the web of our life
is woven by the strife
and chocolate eclair,
we shall keep on rolling
and poetry scrolling.

January 1, 2024 at 10:28am
January 1, 2024 at 10:28am
#1061670
Wandering here and there,
from mountain to the sea,
wherever it may be,
as the web of our life
is woven by the strife
and chocolate eclair,
we shall keep on rolling
and poetry scrolling.

December 9, 2023 at 11:14am
December 9, 2023 at 11:14am
#1060794
The time has come again to celebrate
with family
the holy night that Jesus Christ was born.
We all agree
that these special circumstances require
solemnity.
The church bells ring wherever you may go,
snow is falling, and lights are all aglow.

The carolers are singing "Jingle Bells"
with lots of glee.
The Christmas tree is trimmed with red and gold
for all to see.
The mistletoe is hung above the door
for you and me.
These holiday traditions bring us cheer
and put commercial coaxing in high gear.


Notes on the Cavatina form of poetry
December 7, 2023 at 2:42pm
December 7, 2023 at 2:42pm
#1060649
Savor
gentle breeze across the meadow.

Cherish
last rose of summer.

Linger
in that precious moment.

Grieve
when it is gone.

Notes

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