Once Upon a Squirrelly Night

Once Upon a Squirrelly Night

Up on a tree top,
Hop, hop, hop,
I saw Santa go flop, flop, flop.

Onto a limb he did bend,
Along came the snow & the wind began to blow,
Up in the tree top,
Hop, hop, hop,
I saw Santa drop, drop, drop.

He fell to the ground & looked around,
And shouted to all & to all he said:
I think I hit my head!

Up in a tree top,
Hop, hop, hop,
I saw Santa go chop, chop, chop,
As he shouted with glee,
This will make a pretty Christmas Tree!

Up in the tree top,
Hop, hippity hop,
I saw Santa wiggle his red nose,
And atop the tree a star began to glow,
Santa was so happy he did such a jig that shook the twigs,
When up in the tree top,
Plop, plop, plop,
Down fell I onto this jolly guy.

He laughed so loud it broke the clouds,
When down flew his reindeer and all his gear,
Then off to the North Pole he did fly,
And I swear this story is not a lie,
For he gave me these here nuts & some Band-Aids for my cuts!

Yes, once upon a tree top – hop, hop, hop,
I saw Santa go flop, flop, flop.

© Binding Ink ndpthepoetress - Jeane Michelle Culp (#Z987C46Y)

I Believe, Do U!?

I believe above is reserved for the Sun, Clouds, and doves

Moon and Stars, planets like Mars
And if I could stretch beyond the blue, perhaps touch Gods’ hand too.

I believe below whence water flows with youthful woes

Of innocence gone as age has marched on

There transcends our Once Upon a Time Childhood Friends

Maybe where Sindbad the Sailor crossed or perhaps where City of Atlantis is lost

There Snow White and the 7 Dwarfs, Jack Frost, Frosty the Snowman are standing on wharfs

As The Gingerbread Man, Hansel and Gretel run to greet us as fast as they can

We see Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty each with their own fella

The Old Woman Who lived in a Shoe, Puss in Boots, The Elves and the Shoemaker have good news

The Billy Goats Gruff, the Three Pigs, Three Blind Mice, along with Goldilocks and the Three Bears want to prove they weren’t a bluff

The Ugly Duckling is inside Atlantis with The Phantom of the Opera, Beauty and the Beast - all chuckling

And the sweet Tooth Fairy still leaves coins as a treat.

United at last is The cow who jumped over the moon, The cat and the fiddle, and The dish who ran away with the spoon

Hickory dickory dock, that dang mouse won’t stop fiddling with the clocks

Jack be nimble Jack be quick and Little Jack Horner continue to do their tricks

While The Little Men dance with Little Red Riding Hood, swim with The Little Mermaid, and court The Little Women

The Goose That Laid the Golden Eggs and Humpty Dumpty play pegs

Dumbo and Pinocchio speak their own mumbo jumbo

The Princess and the Pea, Johnny Appleseed, and Jack with his Beanstalk are a glee

Things are a spinning as Rapunzel and Rumpelstiltskin are a grinning

Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, Tom Thumb, Thumbelina want us to join them soon as we can

Along with Alice, to sip tea with the Easter Bunny in the Atlantis Palace.

Of all this I do not doubt, so let me just point out
I believe in Santa Claus and Jesus too, do you?

© - Jeane Michelle Culp (#r3779xy1988CC€)

Ode to Friendship of Yore

Couplet 

Once a best Friend not seen in many years was introduced as 'an old Friend'; meaning only, this is a long time Friend of mine. However; the word 'old' was lost in misinterpretation and so forever gone the chance to redefine. ~ndpthepoetress
(©BindingInk.org Jean M. Culp ©#75IB9956777)

I may not be the most important person in your life. I just hope that when you hear my name, you smile & say That’s My Friend! (I may not be the most important person in your life, but I just hope that when you hear my name you will just smile and say, “I miss this person”)

Haunting Denial

Ostrichism

There was a wicked old ostrich who lived in a river boat, down on the Nile
And every day this evil old ostrich would eat from the river of Nile
Drink from the River of Nile.

Then when morning came the wicked old ostrich would squint its eyes at the shining sun
Singing I don’t see anything; I don’t know nothing, I don’t remember this, and I don’t remember that
And off the evil old ostrich would run to bury its head in the river banks down on the Nile
Til one day that wicked old ostrich never did come up for air and died right there in the river of deNile.

But I hear it said; by those who still eat from the river of Nile, drink from the river of Nile
That as they squint their eyes to the dawning light
They sing we didn’t see anything, we don’t know nothing, we can’t remember this, and we surely don’t remember that
Down here on the river of deNile.

Written by -ndpthepoetress (-Jeane M. Culp) Library of Congress #0394170660

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Persefone - Haunting of Human's Denial
I'm at your back
Holding the weight of your blame
Leading your life in silence
Killing the light
That soothes the pain in your conscience
Your guilt lies inside of me!
I am the wisdom, you, wise.
Dark silhouette of you
I'm your fears
Your lies, your state of mind, decline!
Where is your calm now at night?
You thought you were prepared to fight against life.
But you just throw your chained words with pain.
The time that watches you, it's the one that makes you die!
Signs of depression
Your angel becomes fake
Hidden eyes, drowning tears
Time will fall on you
Signs of repression
I'll hurt you where ever you go
Rotten course, I'm your damnation
Lust! Your threats!
Every night by the moonlight
Your face appears to me as a prayer
My sins lie all on you
I wonder if there's a place for me
When I'm watching you
You become a mirror of pain.
There should be a place for me
And I wonder how can I get in?
Till the end of time
I'll follow your trace
You will follow my guidance
I am you, and you are me,
Stuck into eternity until light collapses into night

Death of A Star

Long ago whence the World initially formed

Lady Love fell atop the blanketed blackness

Embracing all Lovers who were to be left heartbroken, in hopeless despair, with trampled dreams

Her jagged nails grasped achingly into the night, parting holes throughout the ebony sky

Peering down onto Earth with questions of why rummaging in her head

She wept an eternity as the first rain quenched the barren ground far below

And with every single tear drop, one crystallized star molded in each desolate opening

Throughout history, to some the stars are a delight, a wish I may – I wish I might, a guide in the night

But these twinkling ornaments are clearly from her above

Whence in eons, fueled by smoldering embers of loves nevermore, many stars simply die

Shattering exploded pieces of broken hearts across the sky

And so when I per chance see their stellar remains, I’m reminded that Lady Love weeps for those like me.

By ©-Jeane Michelle Culp

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Haunting Affair

Concerto

Compose for me a musical classic of a masterpiece love
Whence once upon a winter, golden harp strings strummed at their hearts
Until one day, Ebony and Ivory played 'Here Comes the Bride'
And upon the 3rd interlude have the triangle cling
As in the Fall came their new born Daughter Autumn.
Than one Spring trumpets blew with a military flag and 3-volley salute
For her true Love, her Maestro died while conducting war.
Now there is a rumor that when all instruments are tucked asleep
Somewhere betweenst their velvet cases, apertures, valves, and seemingly silent strings
An ensemble tutti echoes the story of how the Wife threw her heart upon the Maestros’ baton
And bled to death upon the orchestra floor.
True she is buried by him literally, as philharmonic in death as they were in life
Then once upon a Summer, Autumn took her stand at the podium
And as she drew her conducting stick to lead the Orchestra in the score, 'The Four Seasons'
You’ll hear it said that she drowned right there in her own tears.
Where upon the 6th interlude have the triangle cling
For in a graven graveyard there is a sympathetic symphony, where violins do weep
And every season, Operatic Angels sing about a Stradivarius love once played upon this stage called life,
Now exited forever more.

By ©-Jeane Michelle Culp

Wind Full Ponder

The wind brushes by your skin, unseen yet felt
The wind rustles in the trees, unseen yet heard
The wind though unseen can be playful
Dancing kites up high
Helping birds and insects in their flight
A tool to fly a plane or steer the sails of vessels upon wet waters
And just as assuredly the wind can be foe
Gusting devastation to much in its concealed path
Then without a moments notice change directions, change moods
The wind, perhaps no different than those in life?

©-Jeane Michelle Culp

Yellow is not always Gold

So the monkey beckons your company
Golden laced bananas dangled from the hanging tree
Booze to drown your distress
Pills to camouflage your illusions
But nothing seems to deaden the numbness you feel
Don’t you know the mirror is merely an instrument

So you saw you are human, you are not 'SuperMan'
You have needs too
You hurt – you ache
And what of this new found anger
Does it make you less than a man?
(beast, beast, beast…. shhhh…)

Keep the monkey in its' tree
Come save yourself, you are not alone
Reach out and pull into yourself that which you need to feel -
To feel human once again
Can't be afraid to ask
It will not make you less of a man

Just don’t take the bananas – don’t
Don’t go swinging from tree to tree
For you’ll only hang yourself
Signing your own fate

So put the needle to the Pen and scream upon blank pages
Let me hear what is going on inside your numbness
All you have to do is reach, beyond the monkey - reach
Beyond the banana trees - reach
(shhhh… what of the monstrous beast…)

Maybe best to face the animal inside us all
Than tackle a monkey upon your back
So, no bananas for you today.

©-Jeane Michelle Culp

Animal

Sadly, you just don't get it yet
You still think that after all the lonely weekends
After every night alone
Your day time 'give a darn', just doesn't 'give a damn' any more
But now you need to go on and save yourself
For the monster has crept in
Leave while you can
This nightmare has just begun
Perhaps one can merely feed a dog scraps and leftovers for so long
Before the beast within the Bitch rages out in anger
Leave me to my ''UnComfortably Numbness'– I don't give a damn no more
Can't you see – your 'give a darn' has gone
You can not reach me, it's too late
Deafen your ears; you need not hear my howling as if at the moon
Let them be merely echoes in the cold dark night
Just go on and save yourself – go on
For the monster has crept in
Leave while you can
For my nightmare has just begun.

©-Jeane Michelle Culp

Lingering Relics

Had I not bared my weakness, nor became weak

If I had not revealed my pain
Not echoed a word of dying inside out for us
Not of needed more than less
Not of spoken in anger and blame
Would we still be together
Or best to have shown and seen the outcome?
Or had the limitations of our time ultimately taken its’ toil
If we could have remained constant in our conversing
Would we still be together or not?

Could thee of found another
Ran back to one of the others
Damn your co-dependencies
Or perhaps you forsaken all for Jack?
Or was it that each of our own insecurities ultimately won
Neither believing to benefit the other
Thus lacking confidence in self-worth, led to our destruction?

A thousand unanswered questions, a million tear drops, one broken heart.

By ©-Jeane Michelle Culp

Surviving Love

On a Stage Called Life

Some where between life and death,
I have died and am faking being alive
But this dress rehearsal is getting old
Wrinkles have already set in
Just once before actual death beckons me back home
I would like to truly live
To dance beyond the curtain, into my ‘Happy Ever After’
Oh, how does it really feel to have someone love you, as you love them
For hence is where the purest magic begins
Whence two hearts unite – sparks ignite
Twice the energy – twice the life
As all of yesterdays shadows slowly disappear
You emerge as one to concur the world as two individuals among the living
Alive and well ‘until death do us part’
But for now I must set aside these dreams
For hope is such a fragile thing
Meanwhile the show must go on, as must I
And dawn another day of dress rehearsal,
On this stage called life.

Written by ©-Jeane Michelle Culp

Lucretia

Lucretia



I am a black woman, or as some would say, “African-American”,

I live in a country where the melting pot has boiled over,

Seeping discrimination and crime.

Dissemination is just ignorance,

Blindness to the fact we all bleed the same color blood.

Crime however; is a disgrace to our race,

Blacks killing blacks, children killing children,

They are no better than those who killed our ancestors.

Meanwhile; our people try and uphold rightful cries,

But, Black Power can not be heard past the blast of gun powder,

Gangs shooting gangs for turf that is not even theirs to take,

Innocent bystanders slain in street wars, for what?

Sadden, I take the cloth from my hair and wipe my tears, shouting:

Have our ancestors died in vain?

Do we not realize what our ancestors wounds bled for?

What our ancestors died for, “Freedom”!

Yet, all around are gravely guns that shoot down hope,

Pimps who lay slaves for the desperate and naïve,

Drugs enslaving the body to a lifetime of dependency,

And steel barred cells shackle those who have made themselves slaves.

Afraid, we bolt our doors, board up windows.

Locked inside fear-ridden anxiety,

We become the prisoners in a war that is not ours.

Meanwhile; another child goes hungry, another dies from the cold,

Another job is given to someone else, why?

Because of fear, fear of the criminals in us all.

But criminals are from every race, every color,

Criminals are from every gender, every age.

And it is crime that robs everyone of their heritage,

Crime that strips everyone of their rights,

As we all live in this land not so plentiful, not so free.

Yes, I am a woman, struggling to live in America,

The land of opportunity under siege.

© -Jeane Michelle Culp ~ndpthepoetress

A poem I entered in a local contest- sponsored by a Non-Profit Organization,Center for Women

Jeane Michelle Culp is "one of Five Lowcountry Women Writers, whom won a local Writing contest in 1998. The contest, "The Many Faces of Women" was sponsored by the Center For Women located at 531 Savannah Highway. An organization that strives successfully to help Women and Women with Families by offering a variety of resources and activities."

Poem VA Tech

The Caged Bird did pluck the Sprouted Innocent ones whose wings are now forever tucked beneath those of Angels

While your heads fall against shoulders to weep upon

Know the People in the World embrace each and every one of you.

Damn the pain you must now endure

No logic will ever be enough to explain the damnation of yet another horrid

Drugs and/or crime Society can combat

But of this new mind madness spree

Mothers killing their young, fellow students gone a rave

Little is known on how to Serve and Protect

But if even one death should give a way to save others,

May all not be in vain

But damn - too much of a cost.

Come, the arms of the People in the World are open

Let us help catch your tears.

Written By ©-Jeane Michelle Culp

Treads of A Murder

In the cloak of darkness the heart pounded detrimentally inside her chest, as if insistent on immediate release; while perspiration dripped from numerous sweat glands she never knew her flesh had. Suddenly, the body she was hauling tumbled to the ground and descended along a steep hill. Panicky, she ran toward the already rotting carcass. In the hurried course her high heels broke as she toppled onto the mossy wet leafed ground, tasting dirt from her moist glossy lips. Her nose was within a few inches of the cadaver, the stench reeked with a combination of dumpster garbage and human sewage waste. Sickeningly nauseated she some how managed to rise, brushing the earths remnants from herself with her now bloodily scratched hands. Then, as if without any forethought whatsoever; she grasped the stiff body and lugged it toward a nearby river bank. Briefly, as if to catch a breath; she sat on the moist ground surrounded by the night. Her fleeting thoughts interrupted abruptly to realize she had not brought a shovel. Frantically she looked around in the moonlight. Broken twigs were scattered amidst the thickening, as she hurriedly threw them aside to at last find a short broken, rigid tree limb. She began to dig furiously right there beneath her feet, until the depth was sufficient. By now the crack of dawn was awakening, worn out she clasped the foul body, dragging it inside the hole. Her bare, scuffed raw hands clumping dirt rapidly over the grave. Content with her undertaking, she staggered toward the river. Achingly she knelt down to fling the icy water onto herself, simultaneously seeming to cleanse some of the filth from her skin and mind. Exhausted, she began the journey toward the hill top where her car was parked. Finally she arrived; fumbling with keys until the door unlocked, she climbed inside. Idle, hands on the wheel; she reflected on the nights’ escapade. If only someone had driven a little slower, perhaps none of this would have happened. Or if someone merely attended to the matter themselves when the incident occurred, than maybe she would not had to taken care of the dreadful situation herself. Still trembling; she shifts her car into drive and pulls onto the blackened road. The muddy rear frame of her car had only one bumper sticker visible: God Bless the animals that cross to and fro, for they know not which way to go.

Written By ©ndpthepoetress (- Jeane Michelle Culp) {copyright #98s7750940}

Operation SOS

Today My Friend you tell me, two weeks now you not take your medicines

Oh how I know you yearn for death

Even signed a no resuscitation form, no life support.

I understand my Friend that heart surgery merely let your heart mend

While the remnants of your fragile self still lingers in an unwanted life

Yet to hope for death by increased blood pressure or worse

Surely pain will torturously inflict first

Or create nurse maids of your Family.

Though depression be ever so deep My Friend

You need to reach out to those whom can Professionally help

Least vegetative state becomes your final resting place.

©-Jeane Michelle Culp