1969
  Today's my birthday.
It's a very strange feeling.
     Quite existential.

              Sally

Beastly Benefits

Three times.
No inserts.
Equal pleasure.
Can it be done
without
compromising
the gifts?
Is it still wrong?
When it comes
down to it,
aren't we just
animals?
Mammals.
Beasts.
Hungers.
Needs.
Three times.
Innocently insignificant.
Why do we
expect so much
of ourselves?
Groan.
Snort.
Sigh.

Sally

And Another...

A few friends insisted on this one... Originally posted on July 21st, 2013.

Jalapeno Peanuts

This only happened once,
never to be repeated.
It was so mortifying,
I hadn't even Tweeted.
But now I take the time,
to share these thoughts with you.
In hopes of circumventing,
a dreadful pain so true.
So listen up, take my advice,
when eating spicy peanuts.
Wash your hands before you plunge
to change for your convenience,
your tampon with the spicy salt
still on your finger lingering.
It did create a hot sensation
in my bits, a tingling.
So far from pleasure did it feel,
that I hopped and yelped.
In hopes of finding coolness,
in the tub I knelt.
So do take note when
Jalapeno peanuts hit the scene,
don't change feminine hygiene
unless your finger's clean!

Sally

More Runners Up

This poem was suggested as a Runner Up. It was first posted on November 29th, 2012.

Sticks & Stones

In a jingle jangled corner
in a cottage on the floor,
lives a tiny troll named Wilson
and his buddy Frank the boar.
Together they make pudding,
and read tales about times passed.
Neither is good looking,
and they often get harassed.
Why is it that they don't care,
about other's opinions?
They hold the secret true and fair,
and honor no Dominions.
They live by their own call and code,
by Nature's rules and laughter.
They hold the key to happiness
that we're all chasing after.

Sally

Runners Up

Hola Followers, Friends & Family...
        It has been brought to my attention that the Top Ten List failed to recognize a few deserving poems. I am flattered beyond belief that you found 10 poems to celebrate. The fact that there are more is humbling. I will proceed to re-post any poems that you feel were neglected.
        Also, I have been asked if having reached my goal, I intend to continue posting new poems on a regular basis. I do. Posting daily was a part of an experiment in rehab. I truly believe that every human has a passion within, that can be the anchor for healthy living and happiness. It could be soccer, or scrap-booking, or hiking, or tending to animals. It's the go to activity that helps to maintain balance, and perspective, so that all of life's curve balls are absorbed and overcome, without being overwhelmed by the trials. For me it's the act of writing poetry that allows me, for the minutes I'm doing so, to feel in control. It's an act that is entirely selfish, and leaves me feeling like I've made a positive contribution to literary endeavours. It was a serious commitment to write every day, but the discipline itself acted as a rehabilitative tool, providing me with a consistent release for emotion. The result was life-changing. It inspired me to quit my job when my poetry reflected the great dissatisfaction, and irrepressible stress I was feeling. The poetry clarified the root of the problem, which I was able to address and resolve, immediately enjoying the benefits of the improvement.
       I will never stop writing poetry. I hope that you will continue to read my work. But more importantly, I hope that if you have a weight that you carry in life, you might consider finding YOUR anchor and using it to pull you back to the surface.

                                                         Wishing you the very BEST,

                                                                           Sally


First Runner Up... First posted on October 30th, 2012.

Calm Storm

Serene
Contented
Majestically displaying
her meritorious distinction.
Honorable
Admirable
A true vision
of composure.
Calmness
Wisdom
A whisper
of rhythm
in Nature.

CRASH
ECHO
THUNDER
ROAR
Out of nowhere
like a
ruptured furnace,
a tumultuous
vortex of
hellishness,
SHE hits!
The MAELSTROM.
Divine mayhem
edging the calm
to the brink of
bedlam.

The force of
unending vexation,
channelling the energy
of Sandy,
she lays waste
to her nest
seemingly venting
after a hard
day at work.

Sally
                                                                

#1

Thank you for all of your  votes and suggestions. This poem received the most attention overall placing it in first place on the Poetic Rehab Top Ten List. It was first posted on August 21st, 2012.

Refuse to Stay Quiet!

“…never yielded to conformity

     But stood like kings

In a chariot that’s riding on

     A record wheel.” (The Cat Empire)

I was fueled and perturbed

when I heard the news,

about a band of rebel ladies

who were speaking the truth.

Have we not learned our lesson

about freedom of speech?

Have we not been told by the greatest souls

who have taken time to teach.

So many brilliant people

have learnt it all before.

Let the universe know we’ve evolved,

we’ve opened a new door.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Listen to the great ones,

and remember every lesson.

No one should be in jail,

for having an opinion.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

We’ve known for hundreds of years

that we’re made of the same blood.

We all have traditions, thoughts and beliefs,

and a right to our freedom.

“One tribe ya’ll

We are one people.” (The Black Eyed Peas)

“If you prick us, do we not bleed?

if you tickle us, do we not laugh?

if you poison us, do we not die?

and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?” (William Shakespeare)

"Music is a universal language for all people” (Above The Law)

“And who decides what’s right to hear? You?

I want the right to speak,

I want the right to walk where I wanna,

yell I’m gonna.”(Ice T)

“…what they’re really trying to do is shut off our access to

information

itself.” (Jello Biafra)

“Imagine life without a choice at all

Given no hope without a voice at all.” (Jurassic 5)

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

A group of musical ladies

singing out against the government.

Charged and sentenced as hooligans,

leaves the world in awed wonderment.

“…and some of us are very hungry now to hear what it is you’ve done that was so wrong. 

…A singer must die for the lie in his voice,

And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty,

You keepers of truth,

you guardians of beauty.” (Leonard Cohen)

“We gotta make a change…

Let’s change the way we eat, let’s change the way we live

And let’s change the way we treat each other.” (Tupac Shakur)

“If you wanna make the world a better place

Take a look at yourself and then make a change.” (Michael Jackson)

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Let’s stand behind these woman,

let’s help them in their strife.

Let’s speak out against injustice,

as they pay with years of life.

“Stand up, all victims of oppression

For the tyrants fear your might.” (Billy Bragg)

 “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery

None but ourselves can free our minds.” (Bob Marley)

“Ain’t no fascists gonna stop me, no Nazis gonna keep me,

From marching down freedom’s road.” (Ziggy Marley)

“So don’t be afraid to let them show

Your true colors.” (Cyndi Lauper)

“I hope some day you’ll join us

And the world will live as one.” (John Lennon)

“That will be the day when all of God’s children

will be able to sing with a new meaning…” (Dr. Martin Luther King Junior)

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Listen to the great ones,

and remember every lesson.

No one should be in jail,

for having an opinion.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Refuse to stay quiet.

Free Pussy Riot.

Sally

#2

In second place.... This was first posted on July 18th, 2012.

Transit Ballet

I witnessed a man, he was coming my way
zigzagging and two-stepping towards me today.

I was on a bus on my way to Vancouver
when I saw him get on and begin to maneuver.

He sashayed to the right, and turned to the left
spinning freely and committing blatant space theft.

His lean, silky arm cautiously reached up
between diaphanous fingers he gracefully cupped

The pole with the bell as he rang the next stop
and with professional precision off the bus he did hop.

When I looked up I noticed that others swayed too
as they waddled and groped and moved forward in twos.

They rocked elegantly and frequently stopped
in picturesque poses, positioned and propped.

Some looked like Nutcrackers, and others like Swans
While squinting, their bags looked like delicate wands.

Although unintentional, with little rehearsal
the dancers were forced into the performance circle.

As it appears that all the bus passengers each day
are spontaneous participants in the Transit Ballet.

Sally

#3

Here is #3. One of my very favourite poems in honour of a retiring teacher. This was first posted on July 4th, 2013.

       For Ron

 The fruit has ripened

The apple releases hold

    It is time for pie!

                          

           Sally

#4

This was first posted on May 6th, 2012.

Tim

Tim Sweeney was a boy of eleven years
Who was warm and affectionate, sometimes driven to tears
By the images he saw in the movies he dug
By the passion he felt for creating, like a drug.

Cartoons and drawings, even funny little films
That made people laugh and brought him such thrills.
He was driven by his art and his love for the curtain,
But his greatest catalyst was the work of Tim Burton.

He died his hair black and fluffed it all fluffy
He craved the macabre and loved his black stuffy.
He dressed like a character created by Tim
He was also inspired by things that had been
Associated with Tim Burton's style
Tim's philosophy of living and drawings by the mile.
How he questions reality and paints all his feelings
How he surrounds himself with friends for all his creative dealings.

Tim Sweeney set himself up in much the same way
He had a regular group with whom he would play
The kids played together in the Sticky Woods
Used their imagination and ran like kids should.

Tim Sweeney was the leader, the director of them all
He'd contrive their scenarios and have a real ball
Sometimes it was Dracula, sometimes Robin Hood
No one created like Tim Sweeney could.

Like Tim Burton, Tim Sweeney didn't crave fame
He didn't hunger for money or that kind of game
He just wanted to make pictures of life as he saw it
To play with what's real, and our fear, and just show it.

He liked to think about death and its theories
And the fear that's related, the worries, the wearies.
The fact that people think it's so dark
When it happens to everyone from humans to larks.

Tim Sweeney loved to explore all that seemed dark and scary
And occasionally his mother would have a hairy canary.
"Can't you write about roses or tell stories about the prom?
Why do all of your images have to create such alarm?"
"Mom" he said and looked into her eyes
"There are cultures in which there are cries of joy and celebration when somebody dies
Why must you think DARK, SCARY and SAD?
I feel connected to these images, they make me feel glad
To be able to express these feelings inside
So please let me share them and don't make me hide."

So she helped him she did, Tim Sweeney and his mother
He worked on his art with a devotion like no other.
Sometimes it was dark and twisted and grungy
But other times warm, sentimental and funny.

Though his inspirations were many, that is for certain
He never lost his deep admiration for Tim Burton.
He continued to watch all his films and read books
That he knew had been drivers for Tim Burton's looks.

In his movies, his photos and child-like stories
Tim Sweeney, in spite of all this, still had worries.
He wanted to meet this director, his mentor
He wasn't one to be pushy, be forceful, break and enter.

So he scoured his brain for a way to connect
To let Burton know his incredible effect.
When he saw Vincent he knew he had his in
He created his own tribute and called it Tim.

Sally

#5

Here is #5. It was first posted on Friday August 10th, 2012.

The Dahab 'Trip'

They had only just
met.
As is the way
in places
like this.

They were in the Sinai,
in the desert.
In a wooden hut
with a thatched roof.
Thrown together,
solo travelers.
In sleeping bags
staring at the stars.

JJ was British,
a tourist in a
foreign land.
Monty,
a Canadian Jew
visiting his
girlfriend
in the holyland.

They were making
small talk.
Trying to find
familiar constellations
that seemed backwards
and upside down.

There was a knock
on their hut,
and a thick
German accent called out
"Are you game to party?"
Monty & JJ looked at each other.
They nodded and admitted the
newest stranger.
The strangest
stranger.

After brief introductions,
the German
whipped out his
schlong.
It was covered in
piercings.
While Monty & JJ
cupped their own
junk
in pierce-less relief,
the German pulled out
another curious item.

It appeared to be a piece
of paper.
When they looked more
closely,
they saw the face of
Gorbachev.
Four tabs of
LSD
coalesced together
to create the president's face.

Monty & JJ chose the
quadrant
with the birthmark.
They split one tab,
and their adventure began.

JJ had a Turkish coffee
while Monty
puked in the Red Sea.
They walked past
a man
talking to a donkey.
They witnessed a
mob
carrying a
hammerhead
shark.

They walked
and talked
like long lost
brothers,
and they laughed
and laughed
and laughed.

At the peak of a
shrilling
hysterical
crescendo
there fell a moment of
silence.
When both
tripping minds
paused to listen,
and catch their breath.
It was at that moment
that they heard it.
A sound
in the distance.
Voices?
Laughter?
Drums?
Barking?
Dogs?

Their hearts
quickened.
Wait.
Listen.
Dogs?
It began to
register.
JJ looked up at
the full
glowing moon,
then at Monty.
Definitely dogs!
Getting closer
RUN!

All they could see
was the open door
of their hut.
One lone candle
in the centre of the
room
guiding their way.

DOGS!
RUN!
And they did.
As fast as their
drug induced legs could
carry them.
RUN!
The door was getting closer.
So were the dogs.

Sand under their feet
RUN!
Monty in the doorway
beckoning.
'Come on JJ
they're right behind you
RUN!'
It was then
that JJ tripped
in the sand.
Watching it happen in
slow motion,
Monty ran out
to this veritable
stranger.
He scooped his
brother
out of the sand
and carried him into the safety
of their hut.

Just as the
hook met the eye
the door began to quake.
They stood there
like sand bags
holding back
a flood.
Stunned.
JJ staring at his saviour.

Then they
laughed.
So hard it hurt.
Was this really happening?
Was there really a
pack
of wild desert dogs
trying to eat them
alive?
Who knew.
They just laughed.
Maybe it was the
nerves,
relief,
or the acid.
But they laughed
until the sun came up.

Drugged,
sleepless,
and ever so slightly
shaken,
they slipped the
hook out of the eye,
and opened the door
to the now silent
compound.

Ruin.
Wreckage.
Anything accessible
was shredded to
bits.

Monty & JJ
looked in
horror,
realizing that
it really did
happen.
They almost died a
horrible death
via wild desert dogs.

The evidence was
all around them.
They looked at
each other.
Forever changed,
forever fused
by Gorbachev's
birthmark.

Sally

#6

This was first posted on November 11th, 2012.

Remember

For Garrett who sacrificed
his life at 21.

Remember (English)

For my mother
who never met her father.

Lizkor (Hebrew)

For Gita Kron who witnessed
her daughter being taken to Auschwitz.

Gud'nq'n (Yiddish)

For my dad who got used to
seeing his friends die by his side.

Wathkur (Arabic)

For John McCrae who left us
the legacy of his poem.

Cofiwch (Welsh)

For the Danes who refused
to be Hitler's canaries.

Husk (Danish)

For the men and boys who sat in
the trenches yearning for their mothers.

Sonje (Haitian Creole)

For the brave women who
stayed at home, keeping the world afloat.

Kumbuka (Swahili)

For the hundreds of thousands
who died in the irrepressible flames.

Oboete iru (Japanese)

For Anne, who let us
walk with her to death.

Herinneren (Dutch)

For the women and girls
who lost their humanity and dignity.

Yadet miyad (Farsi)

For the fathers and brothers stolen

in the non compos mentis cleanse.

Zapamtitti (Croatian)

For those who forfeited 

the joy of ever walking again.

Merken (German)

For those who lived
to suffer their days in horror.

Rappeler (French)

For the sake of those

who gave up everything for PEACE.

LEST WE FORGET!

Sally

#7

Here is the poem that scored seventh in the Top Ten Poems List... It was originally posted on November 9th, 2012.

Santa Lives on 12th and Fraser

In July
he sits crouching
by the trees that
line the road.
Smoking
Hacking
His beard splayed
across his face.
Off white,
with a yellow haze
reflecting his habit.
Like a misguided
star
he wanders
up and down the road,
waiting for his
moment to shine.
Just after
Halloween
he comes
ALIVE.
He's visible
from blocks
away.
Like a cherry
nestled in a
swirl of soft-serve.
Santa
walking down 12th Avenue.
Red shirt,
red hat,
and the beard
that seems more
white
when framed around
his broad clear
smile
and glowing teeth.
Relishing in his role,
his moment in the spotlight.
Waving at cars
with a deep
"Ho Ho Ho"
Making symphony
with the
Honk
Zip
Vroom
In his glory
until the New Year
when he
retreats back into
his morbid
shell.
Hoping to survive
the next
ten months
with nothing but
a cigarette to
forge his
identity.

Sally

#8

Here is number eight in the Top Ten Poems List... It was originally posted on January 12th, 2013.

Kitchen Foreplay 

Why is it that you seem
to grab and grope my bits?
While I'm in the kitchen
cooking sauce and grits.
Why is it that you're aroused
by cakes and baking pies?
While I'm tossing flour about,
your fingers roam my thighs. 
You help protect your assets,
from hot and steaming stoves.
You cup and shield the merchandise,
while I kneed the loaves.
It's not that I don't love it.
It's not that I don't yearn.
It's just that you distract me,
and cause the food to burn.
I'll meet you in the hallway,
later on tonight.
Then I'll show you just how much
dessert is out of sight!

Sally 

#9

Here is number nine. It was first posted on Saturday August 11th, 2012.

Bouncy Castles

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz
Fly Fly
Bzzzzzzzzzzzz
Fly Fly
What a glorious
summer's eve
Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Fly Fly

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Fly Fly

What to do

What to do

Sweet, fluffy bread

for appetizers

Then sensational beef

hot on the BBQ

oozing with succulent  

juices

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Drool Drool

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Drool Drool

I even dipped in for

some wine

Scaling the edges of

the glass

with ease

Sigh

an evening of triumph 

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Fly Fly

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Fly Fly

Wait!

Alas!

What do I see?

A perfect

playful ending

to this 

astounding night

Bouncy Castles!!!

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Fly Fly

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Fly Fly

Can it be

that I should be

so lucky?

Weeeee

Yippee

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Boing Boing

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Boing Boing

"Aaaak

a fly just went

down my shirt!"

yelled Leora

as she leaped up

and thrashed at her 

chest.

Sally

#10

Thank you for all of you who gave me your Top Ten suggestions. I think I have finally compiled the list, and will post it daily for the next TEN days. Here is #10, originally posted on Sunday October 21st, 2012.

POEM ALONe

You've seen all of my floppy bits.
You've stood by while I barfed.
You've helped massage cracked nipples,
and watched me birth like art.
So why is it that you refuse,
to read the blog I own?
Why is it that once again
I feel I'm POEM ALONe.

Sally

 I can't stop... It has become instinctive to write to express... I'll begin posting the top ten shortly!


          New Job

      I am so nervous.
It is my first day of school.
    It sucks to be new!

            Sally