Experimental
by NancyGene

I hear voices--not whispers or murmurs, but shouting.
I limp to the cellar, or I’ll die on the stairways.
I’m shaking and wailing, what could have gone wrong here?

There are footfalls fast coming—not softly but stomping
towards me, too rapid, but what has this come to?
I lock doors behind me, lash windows and shutters.

A few were placated when flesh was still burning,
and drownings and hangings, that no one escaped, but
most stayed ‘round this house in mobs with their hellhounds

who wished to destroy and be the new masters
of red-streaked, clawed walls and water-soaked ceilings,
to rule in the forests of injustice forever.

All the candles are blazing and I have my Bible, with garlic
and necklace of crosses and water that’s blessed by
the priests who came with lit torches

and said that I’m made from parts of their loved ones.
I try to recall the flashes of lightning and the bubbling
glass flasks that my father, the doctor, said I was born from

as I had no dear mother but I lived life as orphaned,
with the ghosts of my cobbled brothers and sisters
who were not well created, like I was, to be

kind to the children and flowers and wish for
a love in my life of slow walking and talking.
People would like me if they took time to know me.

On Saturday, October 29, 2022 at 5:00:59 PM UTC-4, NancyGene wrote:
> Experimental
> by NancyGene
>
> I hear voices--not whispers or murmurs, but shouting.
> I limp to the cellar, or I’ll die on the stairways.
> I’m shaking and wailing, what could have gone wrong here?
>
> There are footfalls fast coming—not softly but stomping
> towards me, too rapid, but what has this come to?
> I lock doors behind me, lash windows and shutters.
>
> A few were placated when flesh was still burning,
> and drownings and hangings, that no one escaped, but
> most stayed ‘round this house in mobs with their hellhounds
>
> who wished to destroy and be the new masters
> of red-streaked, clawed walls and water-soaked ceilings,
> to rule in the forests of injustice forever.
>
> All the candles are blazing and I have my Bible, with garlic
> and necklace of crosses and water that’s blessed by
> the priests who came with lit torches
>
> and said that I’m made from parts of their loved ones.
> I try to recall the flashes of lightning and the bubbling
> glass flasks that my father, the doctor, said I was born from
>
> as I had no dear mother but I lived life as orphaned,
> with the ghosts of my cobbled brothers and sisters
> who were not well created, like I was, to be
>
> kind to the children and flowers and wish for
> a love in my life of slow walking and talking.
> People would like me if they took time to know me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dead End

Life on the dead end begins to close
at sunset, where remaining strangers look on
viewing the tattered cat walk of humanity;
no glittering gowns, just the everyday
concrete strut of an every-man lost tune
with twilight as back-up singer.
Some strangers gaze, fingers point, a whispered ‘look over there’
as drunks navigate the curb; a low high wire act.

A voyeur’s visit to life's human zoo;
the homeless, down and out, are watched
and looking back at who looks, a shout is heard:
‘Don’t mock this dead end,
enjoy the off key harmonies,
it’s all that’s left of our beaten path.’

Edward Rochester Esq.

Experimental
by NancyGene

I hear voices--not whispers or murmurs, but shouting.
I limp to the cellar, or I’ll die on the stairways.
I’m shaking and wailing, what could have gone wrong here?

There are footfalls fast coming—not softly but stomping
towards me, too rapid, but what has this come to?
I lock doors behind me, lash windows and shutters.

A few were placated when flesh was still burning,
and drownings and hangings, that no one escaped, but
most stayed ‘round this house in mobs with their hellhounds

who wished to destroy and be the new masters
of red-streaked, clawed walls and water-soaked ceilings,
to rule in the forests of injustice forever.

All the candles are blazing and I have my Bible, with garlic
and necklace of crosses and water that’s blessed by
the priests who came with lit torches

and said that I’m made from parts of their loved ones.
I try to recall the flashes of lightning and the bubbling
glass flasks that my father, the doctor, said I was born from

as I had no dear mother but I lived life as orphaned,
with the ghosts of my cobbled brothers and sisters
who were not well created, like I was, to be

kind to the children and flowers and wish for
a love in my life of slow walking and talking.
People would like me if they took time to know me.

Death Gives a Sendoff
by NancyGene

Go to sleep, drop to the ground, die in a hospital,
walk down that tunnel, towards the loved one
who waits to greet you and who will tell you it’s over.
You have lived the chapters that were written for you,
and the book of your life has turned its last page.

Some have said oh, the colors, the patterns!
Our brain gives a fireworks show at the end.
Bright lights lead to white lights of natural peace.
Our heart beats are stilled, and breathing has stopped.
All that was you transitions to dreams.

On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start posting!

I don’t know if you’d call this a “poem”, but I’m going to put it here and pretend that it is. Thanks.

Credit

Credit is like garlic - there is no such thing as “too much”.
I love garlic for both its taste and medicinal value, and
use it liberally in meal preparations. The odd thing about
credit though, is that the less one uses it, the more one is
given. For example, I’ve already been given far more credit
than I will ever use, because I don’t use credit, and yet my
credit limit keeps going up, a fact for which I can’t take credit.
So, maybe credit is not really like garlic after all. Sorry, my bad.

On Sunday, October 30, 2022 at 7:21:00 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > Start posting!
> I don’t know if you’d call this a “poem”, but I’m going to put it here and pretend that it is. Thanks.
>
> Credit
>
> Credit is like garlic - there is no such thing as “too much”.
> I love garlic for both its taste and medicinal value, and
> use it liberally in meal preparations. The odd thing about
> credit though, is that the less one uses it, the more one is
> given. For example, I’ve already been given far more credit
> than I will ever use, because I don’t use credit, and yet my
> credit limit keeps going up, a fact for which I can’t take credit..
> So, maybe credit is not really like garlic after all. Sorry, my bad.

AYoS accepts all poetry forms.

On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:06:22 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Sunday, October 30, 2022 at 7:21:00 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail..com wrote:
> > > Start posting!
> > I don’t know if you’d call this a “poem”, but I’m going to put it here and pretend that it is. Thanks.
> >
> > Credit
> >
> > Credit is like garlic - there is no such thing as “too much”.
> > I love garlic for both its taste and medicinal value, and
> > use it liberally in meal preparations. The odd thing about
> > credit though, is that the less one uses it, the more one is
> > given. For example, I’ve already been given far more credit
> > than I will ever use, because I don’t use credit, and yet my
> > credit limit keeps going up, a fact for which I can’t take credit.
> > So, maybe credit is not really like garlic after all. Sorry, my bad.
> AYoS accepts all poetry forms.

WTF?

On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:25:13 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:06:22 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > On Sunday, October 30, 2022 at 7:21:00 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > Start posting!
> > > I don’t know if you’d call this a “poem”, but I’m going to put it here and pretend that it is. Thanks.
> > >
> > > Credit
> > >
> > > Credit is like garlic - there is no such thing as “too much”.
> > > I love garlic for both its taste and medicinal value, and
> > > use it liberally in meal preparations. The odd thing about
> > > credit though, is that the less one uses it, the more one is
> > > given. For example, I’ve already been given far more credit
> > > than I will ever use, because I don’t use credit, and yet my
> > > credit limit keeps going up, a fact for which I can’t take credit.
> > > So, maybe credit is not really like garlic after all. Sorry, my bad.
> > AYoS accepts all poetry forms.
> WTF?

It's in our GLs. So even "pretend" poems are welcome.

On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 11:07:15 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:25:13 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:06:22 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail..com wrote:
> > > On Sunday, October 30, 2022 at 7:21:00 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > > Start posting!
> > > > I don’t know if you’d call this a “poem”, but I’m going to put it here and pretend that it is. Thanks..
> > > >
> > > > Credit
> > > >
> > > > Credit is like garlic - there is no such thing as “too much”.
> > > > I love garlic for both its taste and medicinal value, and
> > > > use it liberally in meal preparations. The odd thing about
> > > > credit though, is that the less one uses it, the more one is
> > > > given. For example, I’ve already been given far more credit
> > > > than I will ever use, because I don’t use credit, and yet my
> > > > credit limit keeps going up, a fact for which I can’t take credit.
> > > > So, maybe credit is not really like garlic after all. Sorry, my bad..
> > > AYoS accepts all poetry forms.
> > WTF?
> It's in our GLs. So even "pretend" poems are welcome.

Good to know, thanks. Here’s another.

The WTF Look

WTF isn’t only a question. It’s a look.
If you’ve ever said WTF and meant it,
then you’ve given the WTF look, and
if anyone has ever said WTF to you,
then you’ve seen the WTF look face
to face. It’s a most intimidating look.

I have two dogs, one smaller, one larger,
that will do tricks for treats, each receives
a treat appropriate to their size. When I
made the mistake of switching treats, the
smaller dog was happy with the larger dog’s
treat, but the larger dog gave me the most
intimidating WTF look. Now I owe her one.

Now she won’t even talk to me,
because she’s a dog. The bitch.

Outlaws
by NancyGene

Admire the leaves that are orange, yellow thieves
which steal the bright greenery and turn it to scenery.

October 31, 2022
by NancyGene

The party was fun--I was dressed as a nun.
I met a white knight, who was right for the night.

I banished the ghosts of Halloween most
people still keep, though buried so deep

that it frightens them when they find it’s just men
who have kept them in chains with hope in their veins.

Outlaws
by NancyGene

Admire the leaves that are orange, yellow thieves
who steal the bright greenery and turn it to scenery.

On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 11:15:04 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 11:07:15 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:25:13 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:06:22 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > On Sunday, October 30, 2022 at 7:21:00 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > > > Start posting!
> > > > > I don’t know if you’d call this a “poem”, but I’m going to put it here and pretend that it is. Thanks.
> > > > >
> > > > > Credit
> > > > >
> > > > > Credit is like garlic - there is no such thing as “too much”.
> > > > > I love garlic for both its taste and medicinal value, and
> > > > > use it liberally in meal preparations. The odd thing about
> > > > > credit though, is that the less one uses it, the more one is
> > > > > given. For example, I’ve already been given far more credit
> > > > > than I will ever use, because I don’t use credit, and yet my
> > > > > credit limit keeps going up, a fact for which I can’t take credit.
> > > > > So, maybe credit is not really like garlic after all. Sorry, my bad.
> > > > AYoS accepts all poetry forms.
> > > WTF?
> > It's in our GLs. So even "pretend" poems are welcome.
> Good to know, thanks. Here’s another.
>
> The WTF Look
>
> WTF isn’t only a question. It’s a look.
> If you’ve ever said WTF and meant it,
> then you’ve given the WTF look, and
> if anyone has ever said WTF to you,
> then you’ve seen the WTF look face
> to face. It’s a most intimidating look.
>
> I have two dogs, one smaller, one larger,
> that will do tricks for treats, each receives
> a treat appropriate to their size. When I
> made the mistake of switching treats, the
> smaller dog was happy with the larger dog’s
> treat, but the larger dog gave me the most
> intimidating WTF look. Now I owe her one.
>
> Now she won’t even talk to me,
> because she’s a dog. The bitch.

I don't think I've ever come across a poem about the WTF look before.

On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 11:45:11 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 11:15:04 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 11:07:15 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail..com wrote:
> > > On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:25:13 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > On Monday, October 31, 2022 at 10:06:22 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > > On Sunday, October 30, 2022 at 7:21:00 AM UTC-4, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > > > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef....@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > > > > Start posting!
> > > > > > I don’t know if you’d call this a “poem”, but I’m going to put it here and pretend that it is. Thanks.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Credit
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Credit is like garlic - there is no such thing as “too much”.
> > > > > > I love garlic for both its taste and medicinal value, and
> > > > > > use it liberally in meal preparations. The odd thing about
> > > > > > credit though, is that the less one uses it, the more one is
> > > > > > given. For example, I’ve already been given far more credit
> > > > > > than I will ever use, because I don’t use credit, and yet my
> > > > > > credit limit keeps going up, a fact for which I can’t take credit.
> > > > > > So, maybe credit is not really like garlic after all. Sorry, my bad.
> > > > > AYoS accepts all poetry forms.
> > > > WTF?
> > > It's in our GLs. So even "pretend" poems are welcome.
> > Good to know, thanks. Here’s another.
> >
> > The WTF Look
> >
> > WTF isn’t only a question. It’s a look.
> > If you’ve ever said WTF and meant it,
> > then you’ve given the WTF look, and
> > if anyone has ever said WTF to you,
> > then you’ve seen the WTF look face
> > to face. It’s a most intimidating look.
> >
> > I have two dogs, one smaller, one larger,
> > that will do tricks for treats, each receives
> > a treat appropriate to their size. When I
> > made the mistake of switching treats, the
> > smaller dog was happy with the larger dog’s
> > treat, but the larger dog gave me the most
> > intimidating WTF look. Now I owe her one.
> >
> > Now she won’t even talk to me,
> > because she’s a dog. The bitch.
> I don't think I've ever come across a poem about the WTF look before.

I tried to keep the poem family friendly. The WTF look is universal.
Kids learn the WTF look well before they can articulate it verbally.