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Ugly Duckling of QCPU

Ugly, she ain't fit nor fair
Gimpy heart she hath
Lone of her none do care
Yellow asked her wrath

Grudge she kept; not to hurt
Ephemeral was her hold
Mad gone her in midst of blurt
Monster chicks had told.

Amplified her voice had gone
Lucks of her shone in place
Yonder lake swam she, set sun
Not a single peck never daze

Imbricated feathers appeared
Simultaneous alteration abound
Sick those sought naught beauty here
O 'Lin made naught much sound

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poem by Ellirie Aviles
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GOD's Love

Have you ever seen a sample?
A sample of God’s love?
Have I, I would say I’m sure.
T’was a won’drous sight.

A lady of many years,
spied a child of hardly any.
Wandering older eyes,
Met wondering younger eyes.

Their eyes brightly shined,
as if captive stars.
In place of any words,
two smiles warmed the air.

This lady of many years,
with open arms beckoned.
Sans hesitation,
eagerly, the child reached out.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Doormen Chronicles

Show me someone living high on the 'hog'...
And I'll show you someone finding it very difficult,
Trying to hide their sufferings of mental malnutrition.
And other wasteful diets they are attempting to maintain!
When they say 'shrink'...
It isn't weight they are losing.
Fees to keep those like them believing
They can walk on water...
Aren't about to dry up any time soon!
They are the first to pawn any and eveything they can.
The 'snoots and snots' padlocked in these boxes.
Very few tag sales are conducted in condo high rises!
Those dwellers are doing their best to make deals
With the doorman these days.
And even they are getting pissed.
No one gives them huge tips as before!
They stand now with their arms folded.
They know who 'had'...
And who now 'has not'!
These doormen chronicles will not easily be forgotten.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Scratched And Muddied

I have often heard it said to me,
I should not base my negative opinion...
On what a few nasty people have said to me,
Or about me and to others who have accepted...
Those comments made intentionally.
Especially those made over the many years,
And at my expense directed.

And usually someone will come along,
With eyes beaming bright unaware of the history...
Who will say,
'People are like that all over the place.
You should not take what people do to you personally.'

And I look down at my feet.
And at the shoes I wear.
With this comment I will make...
'How often have you worn my shoes?
And when was the last time you shined them,
When they became scratched and muddied? '

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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John II

Knowing it was, in liklihood, the start
of a life-long obsession, a collector's fate-
knowing the buyer would be back, better informed,
for the Horst, the Ritts, the George Platt Lynes.

I recall your immaculate white shirt
your spiffy hound's-tooth blazer,
your perfect features, gone to seed,
your carefully combed hair, your lop-sided smile;

Your trousers, sharply creased,
your loafers shined and heeled like new-
you looked like something out of Gianni Schicci.
How you loathed bitter American cultural isolationism.

You knew all the good restaurants in Chelsea
and some that were not so good;
your openings entwined the best of politics and esthetics;
you moved on only when the market dried up.

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poem by Morgan Michaels
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Specially for you

I would have loved to see you at once
When you are in perfect mood to dance
I would caringly have nice glance
As it would have been race occasion or chance

As you are living legends with stories
I would notice many laden worries
You may try to come round
I may find it very much sound

How can you do it in act?
As it remains matter of fact
I can remain concerned with your innocence
As you are perfectly aligned with me at once

You need nothing to write
As your eyes specially invite
I read welcome note
Even if nothing you wrote

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Three At The Door

Door bell chimes its discordant tune
ringing in still light, in month of June,
doors open wide, with sight alive
to coloured visions in my mind.
Ears receiving sounds of kinds
children's play and traffic bound
songs birding in birches' branched out hands.

I thought back to days on balmy nights
where we'd danced to disco'd sounds;
three stood at my door
their words as like a trumpet call
with sounds that tinkled, hard to find
amid the drumming in my mind.
Not them again, not them, not them,
them... them....them, them, them.

The beat drowned out the bugled call.
Not hearing words or seeing true
coloured eyes with blinded mind

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poem by David Taylor
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Late of Love

Love came late
Or, I came late to Love

There I’ve said it.

For years
I averted my eyes
From lacy Valentines in stores
And bouquets wrapped in cellophane
Tied with pink satin bows

Love was
a four letter word
Unspoken
Never dared
Not even in a whisper
Whispers belonged to lovers

Love Shined
Brightly in the spotlights

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poem by Mary Havran
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To A Small Boy Standing On My Shoes While I Am Wearing Them

Let's straighten this out, my little man,
And reach an agreement if we can.
I entered your door as an honored guest.
My shoes are shined and my trousers are pressed,
And I won't stretch out and read you the funnies
And I won't pretend that we're Easter bunnies.
If you must get somebody down on the floor,
What in the hell are your parents for?
I do not like the things that you say
And I hate the games that you want to play.
No matter how frightfully hard you try,
We've little in common, you and I.
The interest I take in my neighbor's nursery
Would have to grow, to be even cursory,
And I would that performing sons and nephews
Were carted away with the daily refuse,
And I hold that frolicsome daughters and nieces
Are ample excuse for breaking leases.
You may take a sock at your daddy's tummy
Or climb all over your doting mummy,

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poem by Ogden Nash
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The War Against the Tide.

The brave kingdom of blood and swords,
Was doomed to fail,
Goblins marched,
Cavalry vibrating the land with its mere walk,
The giant Xerxes was on his way to enslave Sparta,

Spartans.........

300 greatest warriors led by our King Leonidas marched up the Hell's Gate,
Swords shined, shields were ready for engraving the assaults, and the spears ready to Majesty Sparta,
Persians came far and wide,
Our King, the bravest knight,
Led the wall of Phalanx with spear and shield,
The freedom; from the paradoxical God was the yield,

The 300s fought till their corpses fell down,
They still never did knelt for the Xerxes clown,
King Leonidas and his 300 died in glory,
Shattering and quelling the mighty Goblin's story,

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poem by Vikrant Jog
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