Flaming Orbs

Flame Orb - Deborah Glessner 2014

God knows the rocky road I chose

sometimes it was just too damn close 

I'm slower now with room to grow. 

I catch my breath and take a glance 

beyond the pomp and circumstance. 

I bend in gratitude for one more 

second chance but every time my 

bounce comes back I trip and get a 

hitch that knocks me off my stride. 

At times my confidence still limps 

from wars surrendered long ago 

 A message from a glimpse of light - 

A fiery sign I'm not alone. 

A spark of truth that shines on lies

and gives hope to a new sunrise.

The bounce is not to give away

a flaming orb that must survive

and thrive behind the fiery eyes 

of Men with hearts they could not hide.

Men who showed me who I am 

and lit a fire behind my eyes.

The bounce of pride now lives inside 

the flames are too alive to die.

*******

In Loving Memory of Jack Hambleton and Robert Edge.

*******

Margaret has a cool prompt today for the Imaginary Garden. Along with the "Orb Art" of Deborah Glessner, she explains it as follows:

"For me, the word orb conjures up ghosts in the form of balls of light - life forms that are believed by some to be the human soul or life force that once inhabited a physical body here on earth. It is said they have stayed behind because they feel bound to their previous life or previous location for whatever reason."

I believe my Grandfathers stayed behind to look out for me - I have had many unexplainable experiences that have proven this to me. They were both powerful men who weren't afraid to tell me they loved me. When they both passed it had a profound effect on me and I felt like I became stronger.

Border Town Disorder

Juarez Car Rental

Bits and pieces of a Border Town Judge
He blew up real good - better than a lawyer
ever could. All that's left is a gold tooth and
a bullet proof vest made in Russia with love 

back in the days when Cold War was enough.

I won a free trip to Juárez, - 
think I'll el pass-o on that.

Things can be boring around here
we just make babies, drink whiskey and ski.
But skiing is safe - except for Sonny Bono.
I'll take death by cirrhosis, slow and as
close as I can to my memory foam bed.

I won a free trip to  Juárez, -
think I'll el pass-o on that.

********

Toads are writing about a place we've never been and would not want to go.

The Missionary Man

Full tilt sprint with the wind at my back

Booty bumping lines off my Daddy's 8-track

Slick silver tongue pierce trailer park trash

Baby got a rash from my gnarly porn-stache.

Dead rabbits, 8-balls and B-52s

My my my my my Boogie shoes

Vinnie Barbarino was Urban Cowboy riding

Fonzie and Chachi had to go into hiding

Clock struck 1990 and Nirvana set us straight

my mullet caught on fire not a moment too late.

Now we laugh at douche-bags and posers on steroids

until Christmas when mom pulls out the family Polaroid's  

******

In retrospect the Toads are writing about living in another time. I chose a rhyme scheme to match the decade.

Ain't Nobody Got Time Fo' That

As the wise Mama Zen says: 

"Poetry on Christmas Day??? Ain't Nobody Got Time Fo' That"

under mistletoe

mama kissed a bad santa

who's the ho ho ho?

What Does the Fox Say? (PG13)

Mama Zen is asking the burning question, "What does the Fox Say?"

I think I found something that can shed some light on this.

Foxy 71 year-old Kelly Fox 

A Foxy Lady walks the walk

and when she talks she talks

the way a Foxy Lady talks.

If you don't like it 

It sucks to be you.

When she says what Foxes say

she says it all with class.

You can watch her walk away

and kiss her rock hard ass.

Spiders

I've been told certain female spiders will eat their mates after sex.

Seems a little extreme ..

but logical.

I'll just take a sandwich,
or a nap,
or more sex.

I wonder what would happen
if a male spider tried that?

Lucky for me I'm scared of spiders.
Probably because I dated so many.

(and I have the chunks out of my ass
to prove it)

On our first date my wife took me
to see Spiderman the Movie.

Hmmmm...

So far she hasn't eaten me
but she's bitten me
and beaten me
in every single game of crib we ever played...

.... and Old Maid

… but I can still beat her in an arm wrestle.

Sometime she hides behind a door 

and then jumps out with a roar.
She tries to make me scream like a little girl.

She's a nerd 

not a spider.

So am I.

I NEVER scream like a little girl.

I scream like a man ... 

a very effeminate man.

Spiders make me scream like a man too.

She laughs at me with my daughters ...
and I can live with that.

(But I'd rather be a Toad - they eat spiders)

Over at the Imaginary Garden, Fireblosom has us revisiting one of our favourites from our own poetry. It didn't take me long to figure out which one I wanted to share. I was just reading this one today. It is the first Poem I posted when I started sharing with the Real Toads in June this year. (I get the feeling that there may be a few spiders in the garden.)

Hero to Most

A Hero to most 

A Villain to some

The poems he wrote 

The songs that he sung

Some things he did

can't be undone

He broke a few rules

but man he had fun

Mexican Radio

and a pirated signal

singing for pesos

and dancing flamenco. 

Will they remember

the bad or the good?

Oh Lord don't let him
be misunderstood.

A Hero to most 

A Villain to some

The poems he wrote 

The songs that he sung

The Friday Challenge is to write a poem about beloved Toad "Hero-to-most" (aka Corey Rowley). 

I  am not a Read Toad myself. I'm more of a fly on the wall. I have gotten to know his work over the nine months I have been posting in the Garden and I have visited his blog "Mexican Radio" many times. From what I can gather he likes classic rock, mexico, drinking and he roots for the underdog. My Poem reflects this - I threw in a a cool version of a classic Eric Burden song for good measure.

the Edge

the Edge
             is about having less

the Edge
             is a fickle hellcat
the Edge
             is in the house

the Edge
             is everywhere

the Edge
             is hi-ring

the Edge
             is there
the Edge
            is here

the Edge
             is now

the Edge
            is not
the Edge
            is

*******

D'Verse is all about list poetry today.

Footprints In the Snow

Following footprints and pawprints

convinced they must know where to go.

Tracks getting deeper and wetter

No need to think when we follow.

Convinced they must know where to go

we showed no respect, forgetting ourselves

we didn't think we just followed

young and dumb having fun.

We showed no respect, forgetting ourselves

we're bulletproof and beyond concern

young and dumb having fun

our heads were too hollow to listen and learn.

We followed those footprint and pawprints

over and under and onto the lake

the snow sinking deeper and wetter

no tracks going back was our final mistake.

*******

Toads are inspired by Maria Wolf of "Full Moon Fiber Art" a fiber artist who lives on Bedlam Farm with her husband, writer John Katz.  

A Wise Old Owl

Old Poem From My Grandpa

*******

A wise old owl 

lived in an oak

the more he saw 

the less he spoke

the less he spoke

the more he heard

so let's be like

that wise old bird.

You never get in trouble 

for what you didn't say

If you listen long enough

the answers come your way.

The argument I always win

Is the one I never had

Being wrong and happy

beats being right and mad

If somebody disagrees

its just their point of view

they have the right to theirs

just like we all do

Don't tell people they are wrong

maybe it's just a different right

but no one can put hands on you

thats when it's time to fight

Sometimes its not easy

to figure out what's right 

always ask someone you trust

and say your prayers at night.

D'verse are writing Children's Poems