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Social Places Poems | Social Poems About Places

These Social Places poems are examples of Social poems about Places. These are the best examples of Social Places poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Limerick | |

Viagra Falls

There once was a man from Niagara
whose wiener's so long it would stab ya'

but when it got little 
his pills became skittles   
until he O.D.'d on Viagra

© ~JSLambert  2011*****A classic "stiff" competitor, standing "firm" amongst other "members" in the "thick" of the competition:) hope everyone gets "a rise" out of it!

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Rhyme | |

The Man in the Wilderness

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam

Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind

I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be

For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home

So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Rhyme | |

Let's Start Today

Let's bring into this world peace
So all these wars and violence can cease
Let's stop all this hatred
And give the poor and homeless a piece of bread
Let's start by changing us all and right from inside
And letting God be your guide
There's so much we need to change
Even if it looks and sounds strange
We can all start sometime and somewhere
By showing in everything that we do, that we care

Let's be careful in the manner that we speak
Let's be strong and not weak
Let's show this world, that we still stand strong and tall
Let's unite together with courage and tear down every single wall
Let's bring into this world of ours much more love and peace
So a lot of this vicious circle of strife and pain can one day cease
Let's start today and let's do it right from the place in which we live
Let's always be respectful of our neighbors and our fellow man
Let's give the best of ourselves everyday and all the time that we can.
Let's stop this madness and get rid of all these illegal drugs today
They can destroy everything that you have and will kill you too
Make a vow to bring God into your life every single day
And make Him part of everything that you do.
Believe that your life will be more productive and blessed
When you put Him first in every thing
That you set your mind to do when you bring
Him closer and right inside your heart
And from you He shall never depart
So start by doing this and much more
Let's answer the call and open the door
Let's be watchful of everything that we do and say
And let's be thankful and pray to God everyday!

Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000


Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter

Details | Rhyme royal | |

" Bahama Nation"

A nation of peace,a nation of pride
A nation that's spread far and wide.
A nation of hope,a nation of joy,
Thats free for all, man,women ,girl and boy.

A nation to give,a nation to take
A nation filled with reggae,socca,calypso and rake and scrape.
A nation of colors; black,gold,aqua....sometimes called blue
can be seen everywhere above land and under sea too.

A nation of democracy and old english style,but things  sure have changed if you
look up our file.
From outside rock stoves,to TV,radio,computers and wi-fi connectivity.........
I'd say that a long way from July 10 1973.

An nation filled with hospitality,love and history,
Arawaks,Caribs and American Indians are the basis of our nationality.
A nation where Tourism is number one, because of the Bounty of sand sea and sun.

Yes,a nation of Youth,sports ,culture,uniqueness and island fashion trends,
Like native Androsia our own local blend......and straw work and junkanoo,the list has no end.
This nation of beauty,splendor and self defense ;yes its celebarting its own INDEPENDENCE.

Copyright © Quentin Sands

Details | Couplet | |

Whilst the Clock Ticks

Whilst the clock ticks, appear memories of her past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Would it be the one from old, or the one from her recent past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Many words were shared, to the future forget the past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Whilst the clock ticks, reality now met her past For three faces she owned, it's the older one that lasts *~*

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Quatrain | |

The Owl and the PusyCat Sail

Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.

The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.

Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | I do not know? | |

Borders In The Borderless Society

Waft borderless borders;

  The dividing line that separates the free
    and the slaves;

      where strangers come and go
          but the cage is never lifted.

                Where sticks and stones travel farther,
                and idle remains your soul possession;

                and disenfranchised.

Standing frozen in the temporal sea,
while global earth spins yonder;
giving birth to a global movement;
devoid of you,
where the shining guards of globalism obstruct your path
and the cage is never lifted.

apartheid in an open prison,
borders without a border,
where freedom is ill defined
and internal struggle
links the spider web without a spider to keep it.

Copyright © Michael Benkhen

Details | Rhyme | |


I didn't want anyone
to have a sad Christmas,
so I roamed Manhattan's star-decorated streets,
where many a homeless weeps...
where was I to find that someone,
if not in that corner where a barrel fire was?

By God's grace, I found that unhappy person in ragged clothes
to give my four presents to,
ending the drama of his woe
by bringing coat, shoes, gloves and a long scarf
to erase the misery of a beggar whose cold night was rough;
he widely smiled when I leaned forward and offered him my gifts!

Bewildered folks wearing the latest fashion attire, did not have
the decency of stooping down and give him a single quarter,
and doing so they killed the Christmas' spirit entirely...
a generous spirit well-known in this city;  yes, my anger
could have made me lash out at them with indignation,
but realizing how greedy people can be withholding love:
I gasped in relief to discover a creche of our Savior so cheery 
along the festive Fifth Avenue to get rid of my frustration!

What I found there was a Heaven-inspired sight
of gleaming angel's hovering the stable announcing Christ's glorious birth... 
while beneath bang-pipers and trumpets players, glowing with mirth, 
accompanied the youngest choir singing, "Holy Night."
Perhaps venturing out in the cold of the wealthiest city,
gave me the opportunity to realize the hidden goodness of kind souls
that give away their humble presents in various forms,
not expecting anything in return...but rejoice in the delightful sound of harmony.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Hiss, Hiss, Snap goes the lighter
And he walks ahead
Just like a fighter
Click, Click, kaching goes the money
And he leaves with his poison
Why am I laughing? This isn't funny
But I can't help but laugh, laugh, laugh
My face hurts
My mind is starting to drift
And boom! Something bursts
I'm the boss of me
And I'm not so right
What do I do
I'm losing my own fight
Who is this?
This isn't me
I can't believe what I see
Hiss, hiss, snap goes the lighter
And he passes it round
Down, down, down, goes the fighter
We all make a sound
Crash, crash, crash
We are heading
Burn, burn, burn, we are burning
But, no one is learning
What did I do?
What was I thinking?
I can't believe I wanted to
I'm the boss of me
And I'm not so right
What do I do?
When I let myself lose sight
Who is this?
Who is she?
What did I do?
Is this me?

Copyright © Rebecca Berezin

Details | Rhyme | |


Pretty soon, night will fall upon the city,
And lives of crime animate spasmodically
As Gene Pitney croons “A Town Without Pity”
And the clubs and the gin joints open methodically.

Hepcat jazzmen smoke reefers, shoot junk,
The pimps clean their nails with switchblades laconically,
Fedoras pulled low as they mind-jive to funk,
And the neon lights crackle and buzz electronically,

Breast enhanced blondes catch the eyes of their johns,
Pouting and winking, the sale of depravity,
For a price any vice can be practiced upon
The surface of flesh, any crevice or cavity.

Cops pound the beat twirling nightsticks around,
Turning blind eyes for a bribe taken willingly,
Failure to pay brings the world crashing down,
“It just ain’t your day,” the cops whisper chillingly.

Wiseguys hold court in an old pizzeria,
Smoking and drinking and eating the scenery
Their empire of family governed through fear,
The rule of the gun and Sicilian ancestry.

Corporate needles pierce veins of the damned,
Chalk drawings map lines around death’s ideology
Cigarettes sparked and the siren howls slammed
Through the meanest of streets of pulp fiction mythology.    

In the world of the scribe, this pulp writer hack
May exaggerate slightly for sake of the narrative,
Yet film noir seems grey when reality’s black,
At the end of the day everything is comparative.

Copyright © Tony Bush

Details | Couplet | |

When the air becomes visible - rainbows

The sky on days become too full
And gravity will start to pull
And capture every bubble frame
While popping corks off rich champagne
The trees will fool and start to dance
And still the time on every branch
With baron shrine and fruits to bare
The wind that strokes and blows through hair 
On top-down journeys come to pause
And settle howls with loud applause
Before acceding way too fast
They leave a trail that sprouts from past
Of flitter flatters in delight
And pitter patters out of sight
Extending dreams as arms beseech
To touch the always out of reach
Parting ways, they kiss goodnight
Before the lips close way too tight
The watermarks miraged for miles
With poppy sighs and angel smiles
A substance of the rarest rare
The healing voice of hearts that care
The silver clouds left in its wake
Remain untouched for heaven’s sake
It can’t be met from anywhere
But viewed to share the secret stare
and ponder why it’s so reborn
Transparent in its naked form  
It paints the sky with gold perhaps
For all to drink from natures tap
The air contains the future’s plot
Seen at times, at others not 
It’s written in the stars you see
Eclipsed by mind and soul-ar key
Failure amidst surrounds of air
That doesn’t mean love isn’t there

Copyright © Brandon Basson

Details | Rhyme | |

Where is the Bathroom?

I had to find a bathroom,
A reasonable request,
I was all alone
And my bladder was quite stressed.

So I asked a man nearby,
“Do you know where a bathroom is?”
He merely shook his head,
And went about his biz.

I continued walking,
And sure enough around,
A woman with her children
Could tell me where a bathroom’s found.

She said, “I have no idea,
I’m busy you can tell.”
She fussed to shush her baby,
Who had just begun to yell.

I continued on my quest,
Moving with rapid stride,
When I found a large restaurant,
Surely, there must be a bathroom inside!

I went up to the waiter,
I said, “I really have to pee.”
Slightly irritated,
I decided to forego all pleasantry.

He said, “Oh, ours isn’t working,
Someone clogged it the day before,
But there is one a few blocks down,
About three or four.”

And so I hurried along,
Quite desperate to find the joint,
My bladder was close to reaching
Its natural breaking point.

I reached a tiny gas station,
Where the clerk mumbled to me,
“We do have an outside bathroom,
But someone lost the key.”

I turned and stomped outside,
I wailed out vehemently,
“How hard is it to find a bathroom
In modern society?”

A gentleman heard my plight,
And said, “You know, there’s a store—“
I interrupted, “Never mind,
I don’t have to go anymore.”

Copyright © Michele Nold-Godleske

Details | Ballade | |

In the Stillness

Along a forest path that few can see,
   Just as the sun is setting in the West,
With owls and ancient oaks for company,
   I wander in my solitary quest.
In shadowed dusk the world is at her best --
   When lacy lichen clings to cooling stone --
The feathered robin turns toward her nest,
   And in the stillness I am all alone.

There is within these woods an ancient tree
   Whose roots provide a peaceful place to rest;
Like gentle fingers, they encircle me
   When by my thoughts I am too much oppressed.
Then I am of a sudden joy possessed,
   Which I claim quickly for my very own;
I feel the love of Life within my breast,
   And in the stillness I am all alone.

And in that place, I ponder silently --
   Admire the tiny toadstools neatly dressed
In spots and colors, sitting quietly,
   And cannot help but by them be impressed.
The rights of others they do not contest,
   Nor under worthless burdens grieve or groan;
I understand their tiny lives are blest,
   And in the stillness I am all alone.

So when dark doubts and fears have reached a crest,
   And deep despair has pierced me to the bone,
I find that path and grant my heart's request;
   And in the stillness I am all alone.

Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock

Details | Blank verse | |

America's Best

I fear it will never end.
I know the impact will ne’er fade
       the pain is slow to abate.

Dear God, may I never grow weary of
      having 'seen it all.'

Dedicated to the bravery and commitment of our soldiers around the world.  We cannot possibly 
deserve the sacrifices you make for us.  Thank you from my soul.

Copyright © Jill Martin

Details | Verse | |

And You Will Know Me By The Trail Of Dead

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the whistle of wind in cutthroat pipes,
the jolly japes and spring heeled capers
in the sepia pulp of the Sunday papers
and in all the Jack Tar bilge in your head,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead
the gory tales of bright crimson stripes.
the intestinal spool of viscera and gutting,
the slashing swipe of steel blades cutting,
and the opening wounds awash with red,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the love-a-duck and strike-me-blind,
the dear boss letters and cunning stunts,
the hunter or hunted in Whitechapel hunts,
and the feverish sweats in every bed,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the buckle-my-shoe and daily grind,
the Juwes and gin and pea soup nights,
the whore flesh slaughter and ghastly sights,
and the legends of all I did and said,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

Copyright © Tony Bush

Details | Senryu | |

Car Wash Line

Car wash running hot
Backed up around the next block
Car in front just clunked

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Verse | |

In State

Barefoot on the paving slab chill, concrete
feet feel frostbite emanations in their callused souls;
rooftop mystique clamours silent slate triangles,
perched the stray cat observers, red-eyes smoking coals.
Down to the river's edge where swaying reeds
feed mongrel contemplations with moist whispered words;
rusty oil-slicked surfaces lick the muddy banks,
karma sutra assassins are the predatory birds.

Fixated upon a frozen traffic system, bolt-locked,
dumb-shocked by electric one way streets to dead ends;
barstool poets weep sleep-sozzled cabbage tears
for the closing-time tragedy of long-time absent friends.
Drunkards shamble on beer-stained coliseum floors, grumble,
mumble incomprehensible diatribes into thin air;
the memorial park benches flake skin and rot within,
white spirits rape the dreams that anyone should care.

Deserted boardwalks spool a crooked travel,
unravel with myopic glint and blink, cat's eyes dying, died,
and the desolated song from night's deflated lung
hums doggerel consolation with no meaning left inside.
Illegitimate offspring of fatherless daughters and sons,
buns in sceptic ovens, burnt baked black offerings;
sacrifices on toilet stall altars, to lie in state
no more than ether, aborted ghosts, empty superfluous things.

Saviours ride no pale horses, immaculate white stallions,
galleons never sail to where the sun pristinely sets,
for the purpose of this life resides in its conclusion,
deserve has nothing to do with it and nothing is all it begets

Copyright © Tony Bush

Details | Quatrain | |


He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.    

Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears, 
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!

I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!     

I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father; 
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?

He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!    

Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep; 
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!  

Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Romanticism | |

Bittersweet Memories

Walks around the lake are bittersweet memories
that leave tears in my eyes
tears in my eyes
I remember the way your hand felt in mine
how the world seemed fine
the world was mine
I remember staring into your eyes
knowing that you would always be there
My mind is full of these bittersweet memories
leaving tears in my eyes
tears in my eyes
I remember when I could make you smile
when I could make it all worthwhile 
I remember when I was all you needed
when no one else would do
We used to waste nights away
talking about anything and everything
sometimes even nothing at all
I’m choking up with every thought of you
as these bittersweet memories are leaving tears in my eyes
tears in my eyes

Copyright © Daron Long

Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

Copyright © Green Trees

Details | Burlesque | |

Redneck FATHER'S DAY------


"Storm over yet...?"

"Well hay'ell ye'ah! 
 sum'body git me a da'gumm cole beer.
 whadda'bou  that boy th'er?
 sum'body git him'a cole beer too!"

"Diddy! that boy ain't nothin' but 8 years old!"

"Wha'choo sayin? 
 na'I don't give a jolly'durn, if he ain't nuttin but 8 year'owed!
 'dat boy dun' sat him thr'ew a big ol', storm! 
 torna'durr warnin' too!
 he gonna have him'a cole burr;  
 on me!"
 my treat!
 mama, git him'a cole burr! 
 ro'tt now; 
 ta'days father's day!" 

© 2011  ~JSLambert Esquire


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Free verse | |

My Love---a very special original Japanese poem

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Rhyme | |

What Is This Church All About

What Is This Church All About?

Is this church meant for people like me?
Is this where God really wants me to be?

They claim to be filled with God’s spirit.
When it comes to HIS truth...  Can they give it?

I’m sure there’s many who come and attend
It’s more than “church on Sunday,” that we must spend!

We must reach out to the lost and the oppressed!
After all, Christ gave us his very best!

May we all preach the gospel and God’s holiness!
And strive to seek his awesome righteousness!

Living for Jesus must be a daily walk and experience!
Not simply based on our “ambitious self appearance.”

God isn’t interested in a denomination or a title…
He wants to know…  Do we really believe the Bible?

He’s not interested in the money put in the offering plate.
He wants to know; “Are you ready
 to enter heaven’s gate?”

May we strive to serve Jesus with a zeal and passion!
And be filled with his holiness and compassion!

May we serve Jesus from a heart of humbled confession!
And making our commitment to him,
 our #1 possession!

“Unless the Lord builds the house.”  
They labor in vain that build it!
Let’s seek the power of God! 
May his presence completely fill it!!

By Jim Pemberton    

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Free verse | |


Rising sun out of the east,
Falls on the early morning on Riverside,
A shantytown just yonder of Laiser Hill,
A posh estate under Ngong Hills, 
And there on shanty Riverside,
They wake up like they always do,
It is another day that may brim with trouble,
Still it is another day nonetheless,
And so they hurry along like they always do,
They might earn a dollar or less today,
And just barely feed the little mouths tonight,
But at high noon high the little mouths will wait,
Maybe the noon high will go down easy today,
Let their hungry tongues patiently wait,
Till Mummy, maybe Daddy comes home,
With that dollar or less for tonight, 
If not it will be just like like last night, 
Little tummies grumbling in the night,
Little limbs trembling in the cold,
That is life in shantytown.

Copyright © Juliet Maruru

Details | Rhyme | |

Why all this Destructions

Why all this Destructions? – Zamreen Zarook

God created this whole universe for the mankind,
He gave everything lavishly, thinking that we might be kind,
Even though people are able, they seems to be blind,
Whereas people failed to mind.

The sky which was created for the man started to scream and cry,
Since good morals and ethics were decry,
The fire started to do the mimicry,
As the water lands cannot bear, it came to man with a battle cry.

Land couldn't hold and it started to gorge,
Fresh air merged with chemicals and started to urge,
Whatever created for the man have started to over charged,
Stop evil and let the merits be enlarged.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook

Details | Free verse | |


This fertile womb lies still in wait.
Void of motion, sound and love;
A lonesome space of plaster and brick.
Worn carpets and marked walls
That surround this shell,
Are signs of seed now grown and gone.
This cell has served a family well.
More fruit within this void shall swell.

Copyright © Ray Dillard

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus to Iran

In Iran they march
"Where" they ask "is my vote gone?"
Answered by truncheon

God, Allah, they call
In His name, holy, oppress
Gods weakest children

Other news shall show
Western television screens
But we wont forget

Hundreds dead now
We only know one name, one face
A prayer for them say

Copyright © Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

Details | Rhyme | |

The Kentucky Derby

So swift behooves...
in challenging quest...
competitive hearts...
race their best...

A treasure to win...
one measurable test...
for equine ones..
Churchills best.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle

Details | Haiku | |

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::Heaven's Ghetto::::::::::::

slip n' slide white moon space cadets glide in the shine illustrious orb

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Rhyme | |

Morals Morality and Ethical Direction

Morals, Morality and Ethical Direction… We often hear of morals, morality and ethical direction. What they mean, I suppose, is “one’s discretion.” Very seldom, is anything from the Bible being heard. Why obey God’s commandments? Why, that’s absurd! Many claim, that as adults, just about anything is “o.k.” As long as you don’t do what they do, but what they say! Many are “bombarded” with sexual type of temptations… Often leading many to get into perverse addictions! We set up boards of people to try to be “ethically clean.” When it comes down to it… What does this really mean? Can a person be totally immoral, but 100% ethical?’ Does this, in some way, seem kind of “heretical?” Why believe in God? He’s been ruled “unconstitutional.” While many listen to the news, which is often “delusional!” We hear of perversions, that are often “glorified.” Do we hear of those wanting to be Godly sanctified? If you’re confused, and need some kind of spiritual guide! Look to God’s word! He has nothing to hide! The kind of morality and ethics that you’ll ever need… Can be found in the Bible! Open it and read! Why not read from Genesis through Revelation? We can all find what we need! Across our nation! God and his word give us a true moral compass for living! His life for our own lives, is what he’s freely giving! Won’t you come to Jesus for godly direction today? He is here! And wants to help you find HIS way! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton