Story of a Kiss

This is the story of a kiss
Sometimes heated with passion
Leaving lovers hot and wanting more
At times gentle and sweet
Full of feeling and unspoken words

Playful kisses between friend
Romantic kisses for lovers
Loving kisses from mothers
Awkward kisses too

A kiss in spring, when new love blooms
Summer time kisses, a time for play
Autumn kisses, as the leaves fall around us
Heated kisses in winter, among a snowflake blizzard

Cloudy day kiss, as the rain comes pouring down
Forbidden kiss, dark and full of passion
Vampire kiss, biting and sensational

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poem by DiAnne Douglass
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0017 Sandy Claws, Avenger from the Ocean of Goodwill

The tale I have to tell, children,
is not a pretty one – so,
PARENTAL SUPERVISION IS ADVISED;
though on the other hand,
as moral tales should, it has
a happy Dickensian ending,
where, as moral tales should tell,
the last state is infinitely better than the first;
and perhaps, who knows, your parents
may even benefit from the telling
though, naturally, without mentioning the fact.

’Twas Christmas Eve. The Smugg family
were sitting around their fine dining table
made from wood from sustainable forests
in their photographable and photographed
Bahamas beach bungalow in its
gated enclave with 24-hour porterage and security,
about to tuck in to their Christmas Eve locally sourced
corn-fed free range hand-reared organic

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Sandy Claws, Avenger from the Ocean of Goodwill

The tale I have to tell, children,
is not a pretty one – so,
PARENTAL SUPERVISION IS ADVISED;
though on the other hand,
as moral tales should, it has
a happy Dickensian ending,
where, as moral tales should tell,
the last state is infinitely better than the first;
and perhaps, who knows, your parents
may even benefit from the telling
though, naturally, without mentioning the fact.

’Twas Christmas Eve. The Smugg family
were sitting around their fine dining table
made from wood from sustainable forests
in their photographable and photographed
Bahamas beach bungalow in its
gated enclave with 24-hour porterage and security,
about to tuck in to their Christmas Eve locally sourced
corn-fed free range hand-reared organic

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Jim’s Mad

While Sue was asleep on New Year’s Eve,
Skunky became a stealing creep,
he stole a silver corkscrew that was very cheap.
For it was only a dollar at the dollar store,
Skunky tried to say it was so much more.
Yes, he told his “made up lies” to Sue,
saying “it only came in the color of red or blue,
They don’t make the silver ones anymore.”
But that’s not what Jim said, as he shook his head.
“That’s absurd, Skunky should repent,
even if Skunky buys you another one blue or red.”
Skunky of course bought a corkscrew that was red,
and said “Italy only makes silver corkscrews, I do attest.”
Sue gave the corkscrew away, it would remind her of Skunky
and the games that he played.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on Jan.16,2011

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Friends And High Places

It's like escaping a hot, bright room
for the serenity of a city at night, covered in snow.

People eliminated. A carpet of silence
for taxis to whisper across. The world becoming

a pleasant dream of itself. The itch
of want smoldering to life on skin. Memory sends

a chill vanishing between vertebrae.
It's New Year's Eve. Hail the Calendar! As if

clocks will pause for a moment
before reloading their long rifles. Years are tiny

freckles on the face of a century.
Where is the constellation we gazed at each night

Through a bill rolled so tight
the first President lost his breath, as our eyeballs

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poem by Jeffrey McDaniel
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Impeccably Dressed And Prepared

The anticipation for the end of times,
Has overwhelmed beauticians and barbers...
From coast to coast and globally.
And 'After 6' evening wear is running out of stock,
As being reported by those in the 'in' crowd.

While reliable tailors everywhere,
Are working their fingers numb...
Trying to get their customers' requests,
Ready for the final fitting on time and as scheduled.

Oh yes...
Many are guaranteeing their end of times experience,
Will find them impeccably dressed and prepared...
To be enthralled by the 'Rapture' of it all.

'Mervin?
Is this like New Year's Eve...
When we celebrate with the toasting of champagne? '

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Dance For The Night Sky

Let's dance to this song
Just this once, we lose all bonds
Our bodies, cascading
We make the world our dance floor
To this final waltz, we sway like waves
Beneath the envious stars
Hearts bursting like fireworks on New Year's Eve

Every star, we claim as ours
We make our mark
Under the moon we dance
The only spark in the night
That could ever be brighter than the moonlight

I am the burning red, and you lush as gold
We illuminate the night's endless fold
A duet of colors, to light the desolate night sky
Brighter than the moon and stars, you and I

For just one night

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poem by Dan Debello
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First Foot

Two small brown pennies were thrust in his hand,
Some bread, and a lump of coal,
Our Mam had added a sprinkle of salt
‘For luck, ’ she said, and his soul.
‘The Devil is waiting for you out there, ’
She laughed, and shivered for real,
‘You have to be gone when the clock strikes twelve! ’
She let out a little squeal!

It was ninety-nine; it was New Year’s Eve,
Victoria sat on the throne,
Our house a terrace on Coal-Pit Street,
It was cold and damp, but home.
Our Da had gone as the miners go
Under a fall of coal,
His body was left where it fell that day
They closed off the tunnel wall.

He left a couple of likely lads
That’s Joe, and me, right here,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The House of Cards

Wrecked cars on a concrete roof
Men sing of death and dying
Women dream of coloured hair
While foreign faces claw the glass
Preparing to break in at last
Determined to demand a share

Debt and lenders run the prison
Shamelessly buy politicians
Trading and negotiating
Everything they get their hands on
All accounts belong to them
As the storm rips through the dawn
As the train comes rolling in

Old folks know the words you need
Christmas, Eid and New Year's Eve
They know too well the flood that's coming
Firstborn killings, days of judging
Hear the priceless words they speak

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poem by Frank Bana
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How Mary Grew

With wisdom far beyond her years,
And graver than her wondering peers,
So strong, so mild, combining still
The tender heart and queenly will,
To conscience and to duty true,
So, up from childhood, Mary Grew!

Then in her gracious womanhood
She gave her days to doing good.
She dared the scornful laugh of men,
The hounding mob, the slanderer's pen.
She did the work she found to do,--
A Christian heroine, Mary Grew!

The freed slave thanks her; blessing comes
To her from women's weary homes;
The wronged and erring find in her
Their censor mild and comforter.
The world were safe if but a few
Could grow in grace as Mary Grew!

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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Ship Wrecked

The ship Wreck
A sparkle, the freighter exploded and up in the air I flew. Looking down the ship
had vanished in the glitter of sunlight. Into the sea I fell, bubbles and angst,
but I saw above me a raft. The sea, calm, always is, it’s the wind that screams
in defeat as it can’t bend the sea to its will; and shallow land that tries to stop
its progress, the freedom to be itself. Night, around me danced the women
I had loved. I drank their nectar and became the strongest man on earth.
My hearing, acute, when tons of iron hit the bottom of the sea I heard screams
of suffering steel and humanity, in a common voice. I willed sea to become terra
firma, silky sand; I dragged the raft behind me like a sledge, heading for the red
mountain where sun never sets because it has no sea to cool into.
Women had disappeared into fluffy clouds and useless heavenly angels, without
their sustenance I lost my potency, and the sea flooded the land. When my raft
drifted into Sidney harbour it was New Year’s Eve, fairy light committed suicide
by jumping into dark, shark infested water. The scream of broken steel and man
never stopped ringing in my ears.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Headlines

Do a show
Save a child
Raise a million bucks
That'll last a while
Fight at parties
Buy a horse
Lose a couple
Win that big divorce
I wanna be in the headlines
Anything to be in the headlines
Saw my chance
Made my break
Took the biggest float
In the Rose parade
Got jailed
No disgrace
A hundred million people
Saw my face
Called a conference
With the press

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song performed by Alice Cooper
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Thought I Never Would Forget

I went back in time today a box I thought
I'd thrown away
Had fallen off the basement shelf,
I tripped and almost hurt myself
Scattered there across the floor
A New Year's Eve hat from '94
Ticket stubs to Billy Joel and pictures
From the Sugar Bowl
Some of these souvenirs I remember
Mostly I don't
It's funny how time reduces a keepsake
To a footnote
The wheres and the whens that meant
So much then
Have gracefully moved along
My memory had mercy on me
And let me go on
Considering everything you meant I thought
I never would forget
Here's us dancing on your birthday

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song performed by Phil Vassar
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Inside Out (feat. Don Henley)

The biggest lie you ever told
Your deepest fear about growing old
The loneliest night you ever spent
The angriest letter you never sent
The girl you swore you'd never leave
The one you kissed on New Year's Eve
The sweetest dream you had last night
Your darkest hour, your hardest fight
I wanna know you, like I know myself
I'm waiting for you, there ain't no one else
I wanna know you, inside out
Chorus:
I wanna dig down deep, I wanna lose some sleep
I wanna scream and shout, I wanna know you inside out
I wanna take my time, I wanna know you're mine
You know there ain't no doubt, I wanna know you inside out
The saddest song you ever heard
The most you said with just one word
The longest prayer you ever prayed
The truest vow you ever made

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song performed by Trisha Yearwood
Added by Lucian Velea
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Booger McNulty and Me

In 1948 Booger McNulty's coal yard stirred
constant gossip among the citizens who lived
in little bungalows on narrow blocks
in my far corner of Chicago.
That was more than 60 years ago,
a time when families took Sunday walks
and went back home in time to hear
Jack Benny on the radio.
A Sunday walk didn't cost a cent,
a price my parents could afford.

When my parents took a Sunday walk,
my sister and I always had to go along,
and every time we'd pass Booger's place,
I'd hear my mother ask my father
what could possibly be on the other side
of Booger's 10-foot fence.
Hoping to avoid a conversation,
my father always said he didn't know

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poem by Donal Mahoney
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I'll Sleep When I Am Dead

J. Bon Jovi, R. Sambora, D. Child)
Seven days of saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for Sunday
'Cause I don't rest in peace
Don't need no Mondays
Or the rest of the week
I spend a lot of time in bed
But baby I don't like to sleep no
I won't lie to you
I'm necer gonna cry to you
I'll probably drive you wild 8 days a week
Until I'm 6 feet under
Baby I don't need a bed
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead

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song performed by Bon Jovi
Added by Lucian Velea
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On & Poppin'

it's on and poppin
and on and poppin
and on and poppin
yes it's on and poppin
oh yes it's on and poppin
and on and poppin
and on and poppin
yes it's on and poppin
Verse 1
show me the money
ain't no time to act funny
I'm a pick up the mic and rhyme for you honey
cause the party got started 9:30 or so
it's a quarter past ten so I gots to go
with the key in the ride and I starts to cruise
a foundation boom at the house of blues
pull up as a velt parked the ride
a boy says yo yo let me get inside
but I only got one can't swing it now brother
if you ain't got juice than you must pay the comer

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song performed by Young MC
Added by Lucian Velea
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From A School Anthology

1. E. Larionova
E. Larionova. Brunette. A colonel's
and a typist's daughter. Looked
at you like someone studying a clockface.
She tried to help her fellow mortals.
One day when we were lying side by side
upon the beach, crumbling some chocolate,
she said, looking straight ahead, out
to where the yachts held to their course,
that if I wanted to, I could.
She loved to kiss. Her mouth
reminded me of the caves of Kars.
But I wasn't scared off.
I hold
this memory dear, like a trophy won
on some unintelligible battle-
front, from enemies unknown.
That lover of plump women, that lurking tom,
D. Kulikov, then hove in sight --
he married her, did Dima Kulikov.

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poem by Joseph Brodsky
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He Mourned His Master

INTRODUCTION
The theme is ancient as the hills,
With all their prehistoric glory;
But yet of Corney and his friend,
We’ve often longed to tell the story;
And should we jar the reader’s ear,
Or fail to please his eye observant,
We only trust that he’ll forgive
The bush muse and—your humble servant.

THE STORY

Old Corney built in Deadman’s Gap
A hut, where mountain shades grow denser,
And there he lived for many years,

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poem by Henry Lawson
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