here’s your plaque:
best in uniformity & public shaming.
no rooster crows without committee review.
no similes unless they match the mulch.
you scratch the dirt,
then vote on who gets corn-fed
when there's plenty to go around.
not every poem is a zoning dispute,
and I'm hard pressed to name anyone here
an expert in the field. get over yourselves.
she left.
what was the point of that?
you ran off a chance to learn something,
or worse,
ran off a chance to help a lonely person
in need, masquerading what they want to be.
we'll never know now.
all this for what?
the abject terror of an electron less
of validation? grow the f*ck up.
I see you,
paper-bagging praise like contraband,
while circling the coop,
searching for a beak to clip.
I'm going to bed now,
to dream of that first welcome
I had three years ago.
My sincerest hope
is that you'll meet me there.
Categories:
bagging, anger, community, conflict,
Form: Free verse
If you own a dog, at some point you
Will be carrying a bag of poo,
At least if you’re considerate
And follow laws regarding s#%*.
There are some, though, who flout the rules
And think that bagging crap’s for fools.
A joke said, aliens did land
And, struggling to understand,
Determined that the smarter race
Were not the humans, for their place
Was picking up whatever lot
Their masters left with every squat.
In any case, when doggies do
Their business, making number two,
Their owners might hold back a gag
But will be left to hold the bag,
Unless, of course, that they refuse
And leave the mess for others’ shoes.
Categories:
bagging, dog,
Form: Rhyme
When a tripping tongue
sets a tail to wagging
Check the message brung
see what it’s bagging
Categories:
bagging, society, spoken word,
Form: Rhyme
At the end of the season
bagging trash
worn out from holiness
Lights burning black holes
in bright windows
Longer nights circle narrowing days
sense of unseen toothless dogs
The thin smoke of merriment rising
out of colorless dawns
The children are sulky
their wishes all came true
someday close at hand
they will understand
Still it’s been
(if the amount of trash
counts for anything)
the very best one yet
Categories:
bagging, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Peanut butter and jelly always satisfied me
Why'd I stop brown-bagging it in 2003
Categories:
bagging, food, mystery,
Form: Couplet
I Used to Enjoy
by Bob Moore © 2022
I used to enjoy the barbers
go for a haircut and a chat
talk about the football
politics and things like that
There usually would be one chair,
or maybe there was two
a few customers and the barber
who knew just what to do
Short back and sides was standard
the cut most of us had
not fancy, but easy to comb or brush
and it didn’t look too bad
But things have changed, as all things do
and whenever you may go
the barbers speak to each other
in a language I do not know.
They may be telling each other jokes
just like we used to do
“two cutting and three bagging here,
been a while since we’ve seen you.”
Or talking about the football
or the land where they were born
but I cannot join in with them
on this haircut Saturday morn.
I miss those haircut mornings
and now it’s just a chore
I listen but do not understand
don’t go much anymore
Bob Moore
Categories:
bagging, memory,
Form: Rhyme
You’re one of The Mortals
To whom others are “Empty Bottles”
You have risen now and again,
Degrees bagging to your own again
At all analyses “Very Good!”
And at Evaluation “Oh! My God!”
Often, The First to be Understood,
No frustrated use of bullying rod.
Still need you to set yourself apart
By being The Proverbial Young at Heart:
Voice for infant’s frame of mind;
I have in mind the toddler just behind
Your sweetly playful Four-Year-Old Son
About to a game start in The Sun …
For that is when in you
The presence of God holds true.
And you become truly a mortal
To whom another is Empty Bottle.
Categories:
bagging, child, education, image, integrity,
Form: Rhyme
At the end of the season
bagging trash
worn out from holiness
Lights burning black holes
in bright windows.
Longer nights circle narrowing days,
sense of unseen toothless dogs.
The thin smoke of merriment rising
out of colorless dawns.
The children are sulky
their wishes all came true,
someday close at hand
they will understand.
Still it’s been
(if the amount of trash
counts for anything),
the very best one yet.
Categories:
bagging, poetry,
Form: Free verse
From assassins fleeing but finally spotted,
One’s good image guarding and still it is blotted;
An ill-omened murderous car
Crushing one’s guiltless star!
A team playing out its heart but lifting no trophy,
Zero approbation bagging for one’s philanthropy;
A last- round knockout receiving from a punch-drunk pugilist,
God truthfully serving but still tagged an animist.
Also, forever battling with recognition
While not indifferent to its precondition
Or, of a sudden, experiencing health issues
After stepping into demanding shoes…
The jaws of Devourer Fate
Remain The Widest Gate:
That which would storm one’s path
And for days not important a bath.
Categories:
bagging, anxiety, bereavement, creation, destiny,
Form: Rhyme
A few days before Thanksgiving,
My sister was not among the living.
Time to celebrate and be giving
Without her, was emotional missing.
Day of giving thanks and blessings
With strong friends and family bonding
Instead mourning and weeping
When our hearts were breaking.
I stare, unable to utter a sound, bagging
To wake up from this nightmare; hiding
The pain, but I can't stop shuddering.
How does one deal with the death of a sibling?
My unforgivable sin of my grief;
If only I knew that our time would be brief.
I would say I love you with lots of hugging.
11/10/2021
''U'' Contest, New Poems Only Poetry Contest 3. unforgivable
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Categories:
bagging, grief, sister, thanksgiving,
Form: Rhyme
At the end of the season
bagging trash
worn out from the holiness
missed or avoided.
Lights burning black holes
in bright windows.
Longer nights circle narrowing days,
sense of unseen toothless dogs.
The thin smoke of merriment rising
out of colorless dawns.
The children are sulky
their wishes all came true,
late in the evening
someday close at hand
they will understand.
Still it’s been (if the amount of trash
counts for anything),
the very best one yet.
Categories:
bagging, poetry,
Form: Free verse
(TO: One of my favorite appendages)
My shoulder bag is important to me
It bumps against the side of my knee
When I wear it there is no stopping
As I tote it while I am shopping
Wallet, makeup, notebooks too
And trusty cell phone (I love you!)
Breath mints and gum to chew
Just can't shop without them too
It's a mobile file cabinet of
Various assorted stuff
The weight sometimes
Makes shopping tough
Brandolini bag of leather
It has compartments galore
I love to haul it with me
All around the store
When we get to checkout
We are feeling fine
Both me and the treasured
Shoulder Bag of mine!
Categories:
bagging, appreciation, humorous,
Form: Rhyme
it's crunch time
bottom of the line
but i think that's
more meant to be
like i'm dying but
never give to that
which will make
you stronger
so i thought about
maybe bagging
groceries and
go figure i can
see myself
bagging an old
woman's
groceries
thinking
wow she has
all her faculties
but suddenly snap
back to reality
i'm bagging
groceries
for an
old
man
Categories:
bagging, muse,
Form: I do not know?
Rudolph’s attempt to supplant Santa by bagging the old man ~ got caught.
12/13/2018
Categories:
bagging, christmas,
Form: Monoku
Alone he goes to distant lands
His feet needs the warmth of different sands
Finds a nest wherever he goes
This is the life the poor soul chose.
In this tied up treadmill world
Where many life stories go untold
Unable to live the mainstream life and crumble,
He wanted to be a hidden stream in the jungle.
He strolled along a farm of daffodils,
The scene of countless stars it fulfills.
A dive in the deep blue brine,
Displays an ineffable beauty of the divine.
He could never leave anything behind,
Bagging every experience he could find,
And all he gets in his journey
Is a sense of blissfulness similar to a symphony.
Categories:
bagging, adventure, romantic, satire, travel,
Form: Verse
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