Best II Poems
Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
Sophie Scholl was raised a Christian in a Lutheran family
Born in the town of Forchtenberg in south west Germany
For standing defiant against evil with her young life she'd pay
In a country that was in deep turmoil and had lost its way.
She was a young teenager in nineteen thirty three
When a new leader offering hope, emerged in Germany
Adolf Hitler was an Austrian, who came to power
And for many it was the start of their darkest hour.
To unite the German people the Nazis held rallies
In some of the larger towns and all the big cities
But something dark and sinister was taking place
The evil Nazis were plotting to create a master race.
All the youth were encouraged to join an organisation
Hitler youth they were known all over the nation
Sophie and her brother together, with some of their friends
Turned their backs on the movement and vowed to make amends.
Word was getting around about death camps and persecution
Together they decided to form, a small non violent organisation
Known as the 'White Rose' who urged the people to renounce Hitler
They handed out leaflets telling the truth, about the Nazis slaughter.
One day at Munich University where Sophie studied as a student
She was seen distributing leaflets on what Nazi ideology meant
A janitor intervened and confronted her, and wouldn't let her go
She was arrested and then handed over to the notorious Gestapo.
They interrogated her to find out, who her accomplices were
But she wouldn't give them their names, as they tortured her
They charged her with high treason and sentenced her to death
To die by the guillotine and the date of execution was set.
They executed twenty one year old Sophie for making a stand
And they had accused her of being a traitor, to the fatherland
They eventually captured the others, five of them in all
And they too walked to their deaths standing proud and tall.
It’s people like Sophie who want to make the world a better place
And not supporting some twisted ideology like a master race
The Nazis were eventually defeated and their leaders tried
But not before Sophie and millions of other innocents had died.
Written 15th May 2021.
=================================
A thing of beauty on her wrist
was confiscated by a nurse
who looked for items soldiers missed
in places (and by means) much worse.
They branded her inside the camp,
a thing of beauty on her wrist
replaced by Hitler's horrid stamp,
a stinging band below her fist.
With teeming glee, Frau nurse had hissed,
"Thank me that you won't see the baths"
A thing of beauty on HER wrist
the gleaming fee of psychopaths
Now, she who bears the mark of war
lives free and wears her scar not with
remorse. It's more, at ninety-four,
a thing of beauty on her wrist...
========================
Smiling, as our glances would glimpse, knowing, as our souls would meet
Upon this plane of sphere, where time, it did not ever exist
These curtains, no longer drawn, exposing thresholds
That we both had crossed, wishful, and wantingly
Into my arms, she then now waltzed, within her velvet, and silkened touch
Melting, into my depths her love, deep, inside of me
Silently, as I gazed into her eyes, kaleidoscopes, of cascading colors, reflecting
The endlessness, of these vast expanses of desires, longings, that we both could see
Much more than flesh, much more than barriers, much more, than life itself
Was the warmth, of her cherished breath, the essence, of her purity
Reaching, resurrecting a pulse, that I, we, should finally be
As the world stood still, and the skies became frozen
When our lips first brushed, an impassioned kiss, that would follow
The galaxies, exploding, from beneath the waters, of this now, washing sea
For no longer was she just a picture, and no longer, was she just a dream
Entwined forever, was this our spirits, as one, she became real to me
These souls that danced, amid the starlit heavens, unto the endless, of all eternity
She and I, and we alone, immersed within a light, a love
That no time, no life, no eyes, have they ever seen....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ Destiny ~
#One should be cautious in starting a war, but
once begun, it should be carried out thoroughly#
#Quote by Hirohito circa Dec 1942#
Onslaught
As little boy fell over Hiroshima,
a demigod dismayed how it grew
Into a fat man above Nagasaki,
Hirohito said, so I’m the devil too
Both are one, and the same person,
to say otherwise is splitting atoms
When two suns appear overhead,
an emperors duality, cannot fathom
And necessary evil is a dubious sin,
willpower making its choice that day
Expedience worked saving millions
I’m firmly on the side of Enola Gay
Reckoning came, not a flash in the pan
for marching POWs to death, at Bataan
Also, Pearl harbour, Iwo Jima, Guam
Midway, Okinawa, Tarawa, and Saipan
Job’s done, the mission accomplished
a time to celebrate, peace be strong
our conscience does not need absolution
obliterated by belief, we did no wrong
Little Boy/Fat man, US code names
for the atomic bombs in WW2
Pick-A-Title, Vol 32 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Prompt chosen Onslaught
07/11/22
Inside the Dishwasher everyone rushed!
Clinks, clanks, rattles, 'Ouches' and ' Ohs'!
"Would you pa--lease, settle down!" said Deb--They hushed.
"Now we can hear...let's just see how this goes."
Curious, Peter, looked out through a chinc,
And watched Vie and Chris-- approaching by twos.
They opened the door--and who do you think--
Standing there wearing her fine Jimmy Choos,
Ms Lost Sonnet!--spoke not a word--but winked.
Wilma Wine-Corkscrew, dressed in purple hues
Gave the 'all clear', and Peter spread the news.
"We're having a party Ms Sonnet, please,
Won't you join us? It's a magic party
For Peter", said Ruben Rotisserie.
Bob Blender poured her a drink--quite hardy.
Connie Candellabra was flaming bright
As Ms Sonnet swept past to the soft couch.
Carolyn Cookie Jar screamed with such fright,
"Quick! She's on fire!" Then Lost cried, "Ouch!"
"I'll save her", said Catie Collander. "Here!"
But the water leaked through her like a sieve.
Susan Spatula yelled, "Have no fear, dear!"
Yet, the fire held on and would not give--
Others tried, but could not stop the fire.
Then Peter said, "I wuw twy! I can do it!
With 'Awwy, I can fwy! Way up highya!
Togethwa, we can save Ms Wost Sonnet!
Awwy is my fwend. He tawks funny, too!
He's aw the way fwom Engwand and he is
My Supwa Cape! So I can fwy! It's twue!
No H's wive theaw--his name is wike this:
'Awwy--not Hawwy." So now, they all knew.
"Did I 'ear some bloke colling my name?"
"Yes! 'Awwy, me! We've Ms Sonnet to save!"
Harry Handtowel--AKA, Super Cape--fame
Was now on the neck of Peter the Brave!
With no hesitation quickly they flew,
Smothered the fire and saved just one shoe.
Brittle and weak, Lost needed more than glue...
"She needs magic! Oh! Paweeze! What can we do?"
"Peter...we only made enough for you".
Said Carol Crock-pot. They all cried, "Boo Hoo..."
"Then give huw my magic! That's what you do!"
So quickly they sprinkled the magic brew.
Ms Sonnet was greatful--then said, "Adieu".
"Peter, you've done well," said Anne Assam Tea,
"Let's all have a cup'a tea and you'll see...
"'Magic's believing in yourself, --frankly,
Do that--and you can do--anything!"
~©deborah burch
5/23/2012
*Special appearance by "Lost Sonnet", courtesey of David Williams...with much gratitude, thank you all for appearing ;)...Peter has many adventures to come...big hugs, love you all, cap'n deb
There is not a poem that you fail to read
Or time that I’m away you don’t ask, “Why”?
There is not a time when you don’t plant a seed
Of joy into my heart when tears I cry
You’ve helped me to believe in what I give
Seen beauty in the silly lines I rhyme
You’ve helped me want a better life to live
And shown me Godly love time after time
You will not leave my writes without a thought
Oh what things need to change for smoother flow
A friendship true like yours cannot be bought
You’ve helped my heart to breathe, expand, and grow
A Guardian poet you have been to me
Accept my thanks and loyal constancy
Jade (Eileen to you, Richard Lamoureux)
This is my second poem by this title. Richard Lamoureux has been a constant friend, mentor, and guide. I so appreciate his integrity, honesty, and spirituality. He's encouraged me over the years I've been here.....to keep writing, to enter contests...and to believe in my self-worth, a precious gift. When I'm gone...he'll visit my older writes and leave a note. :) I've gained so much by reading his book- Dummy: Hurtful and Healing words which is so full of precious insights on the power of words to heal or destroy. Well I know this power. Well have I suffered because of it.
People come and go...It's good to know some are there for the long haul. Some are there simply because they care...nothing more...nothing less. Thanks, Richard.
You reminded me again, not to be late.
That I shouldn't let you hate.
What we have because it's delicate.
That you are fed up, trying to put me upright.
Talking about how much money I waste.
On things that ain't important.
Some that I buy off the internet.
Not to mention, going out on dates.
With group mates, accumulating debts.
Like earning money is a copy and paste.
That you are done with me not being straight.
So you are gonna leave and I will regret.
Because I don't seem to have learnt.
Ever since we met
So I made it simple enough not to complicate.
I talked to immaculate.
And asked her to review my monthly budget.
I blocked Margret.
I told Sarah to talk to Cate.
And tell her never to show up again at our gate.
I told you Peace is a friend, just like fortunate.
Shamim is my workmate same to Annet
And sometimes our bosses ask us to collaborate.
On some projects that's why I have to work late.
With Esther, Fauster and Bridget.
I am not always really out on a date of late.
And not to forget.
Shalom has got Jophet.
Who was my classmate.
So I wouldn't really want to interrupt.
What they have got.
Their relationship is perfect.
Remember the last time we met
In studio, I had to vacate.
Because I didn't want another upset.
Back at home with my soulmate.
Because of a compliment.
Or a comment that would make us fight.
Set us apart and have us separate.
I dearly love and cherish you my sweetheart.
.
These eyes have often been solaced by purple hues of twilight dust
moving silently over my life ,Sprinkling pure bliss from an edgeless painter's sky
These eyes have been solaced by gazing over cedar scented hills
By soft lulling sounds of water from rustic Tuscan mills
These eyes have been solaced by Composing stars that waltz in silver gowns
above old village 's church bells , and crickets 'harmonic sounds
These eyes have been solaced by honey nutmegged shadows
poured from luna' s tangy crest across my rose blushed cheek
By little antique lamp lights , which illuminate my soul's dark cobbled street
By winds carrying sea-salts to unwalked settling sand
By tides washing out corals from a distant land
These eyes have often been solaced by his return
to this vacant room inside my heart
By the calling of his arms that held me from the start
These eyes have been solaced by the way he loves me , by the way he needs me
by the way he fades away,Like the last bonfire before an early rain
By the way He stirs old embers inside each burning flame
By the way He leaves , by the way He turns, to lean on me again.
Lili Marlene
In times of war, love can subdue cynical
(Men separated from their vocation, now filled with hatred),
And quell the beast inside their misdirected hearts,
And free their consciences to allow sorrow’s comfort.
A noisy silence pervades the barracks’ atmosphere,
Where soldiers stir, stuffing duffel bags with miscellaneous items,
While others reminisce, writing letters; maybe their last,
And await deployment orders for the Western and Eastern Fronts or Africa.
Belgrade, a woman’s voice over the airwaves is transmitted,
Allowing for a moment of silence and reflection for those listening
Alone; spiritually uplifted by memories of better times,
They seek a reason to justify this madness of sacrifice.
“My Dearest Marlene,” the pen begins when all hell breaks loose.
By bombs flashing bright, bloody hands write, then the pen stops:
“Until we meet again underneath the corner light,
Like we used to do, my Lili Marlene.”
***
Note:
"Lili Marlene" is a German love poem set to music by Norbert Schultze (1911–2002) in 1938, based on the poem “The Song of a Young Soldier on Watch,” written by Hans Leip (1893–1963) in 1915 during World War I. The song was first recorded by Lala Andersen (1905–1972) in 1939 under the title “The Girl Under the Lamps,” which became popular during World War II (1939–1945) among both the Axis and Allied troops. The song was first broadcast by the German Radio Belgrade station throughout Europe and North Africa, following the Nazi occupation of Belgrade in 1941.
Marlene Dietrich (1901–1992) was the daughter of a Prussian officer. She refused to work in Nazi Germany and was branded a traitor by Nazi supporters when she became an American citizen in 1937. She gave over 500 performances entertaining Allied troops from 1943 to 1946. Marlene Dietrich recorded the song entitled “Lili Marlene” in 1944 for Decca Records (US) and Brunswick Records (UK), which was released in 1945.
...They proclaimed that we ‘oppressed women,’
it’s the refrain of loud femenists,
forgetting that before birth control
nature gave us little choice in this.
That before we had technology,
when life meant brutal, physical work,
that there just weren’t all that many jobs
physically weaker women could work.
They forget that the woman’s franchise
arose on America’s frontier,
that we blazed the path for suffrage,
their equality started right here.
Now why would a nation do all that
if they cared so little for females?
If we sought to be patriarchal
then I dare say the strategy failed.
And yet the left keeps raging about
rights which women have been long endowed,
Why should we buy all their self-hatred
when there’s so much for which to be proud?
And worst of all these fools like to claim,
that we’ve learned nothing, it’s all the same,
which I think is a sure sign that they
have something dreadful wrong in their brains.
We look at our mistakes all the time,
we brood endless on our sins and scars,
America lacks no self-reflection,
if anything we take it too far!
We get so obsessed with all our wrongs
that we think they drown out all the right,
we selfishly think it’s all our fault,
then of the truth we sadly lose sight.
Many cultures can’t ask such questions,
ask the Turks about past genocides,
or see if Communist China will
own up to all the Uighurs that died.
You don’t see many Japanese kids
who know about the rape of Nanking,
yet every American does know
that Wounded Knee was a horrible thing.
Why should we regret a culture that
tries to learn rather than disavow?
Our growing should not bring self-hatred,
to be honest, it should make us proud.
In the end, these issues are smokescreens,
thrown up to keep good people off track,
the left wants us all to hate ourselves
because self-hating folk rarely fight back.
There’s no logic behind what they hate,
hell, it changes hour-to-hour,
what unifies all these self-hatreds
is whether it will bring them power.
That’s really what’s behind all of this,
like some grand Machiavellian scheme,
to make free people into peasants
they first must be cut down and demeaned.
In truth, they don’t like Americans,
they don’t like people who stand unbowed,
so reject their vile self-hatred,
embrace all the things that make us proud.
Four-score years ago, the youth of Allied Armies stormed Normandy's shore;
Men in the December of their years returned today recalling the gore of war.
They wept at comrades graves who freely gave their all on that crimson strand;
Heros reaped by the Scythe of Death to ensure that freedom would yet stand.
Old men wept as the dulcet notes of Taps was played,
And rendered smart salutes as Old Glory was displayed!
Many of the veterans leaned on canes to guide their stride;
Others in wheel-chairs were helped by guides to ease their ride.
Gnarled hands that once held the fearsome weapons of war,
Beckon for peace that we shall know war nevermore!
Upon the plain above Omaha Beach lie 9000 buddies they mourn,
Who await Gabriel's clarion bugle call on that Triumphant Morn!
The glistening sand that once was stained by a hero's blood,
Is now cleansed by the ebb and flow of decades of tidal flood.
The beach that once resounded with the cannon's roar,
Now trembles with the booming surf rushing to the shore!
The hardships these gallant men suffered, we shall never know;
So much, so very much, to this Great Generation we owe!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Poetry:
Universe's ideal conception of harmony and beauty
Recited
By the rhythmic beat of the poet's heart, inspired by
The divine!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
04 December 2020
Write Me
your ballad of beliefs
your epistle of emotions
your parable of paradigms
your chronicle of convictions
Underline Me
------------ -------
leave nothing out
embrace the honesty
bare your naked soul
Italicize Me
finesse the cadence
narrate with engaging elan
embellish with panache and aplomb
UPPERCASE ME
Magnify the Momentous
Shout from the Summits
Accentuate the Ascendant Apogees
Bold Me
use your signature font
imbue me with the vocabulary of your DNA
...the glossary of your very own fingerprints
*Punctuate*
your paragraphs with personality;
your chapters with charm -
your stanzas with s t y l e !
I am your diary of daydreams
your scrapbook of stories
your poem of promises
your litany of life
I am your tale
Write
me
written 6 July 2023
Aunt Ethel said to Uncle Fred,
Let’s attempt the starfish in bed,
Old Ethel insisted,
Till Fred’s back got twisted,
They best stick to sleeping instead!
Original poem by Jan Allison
Fred couldn't stand and was writhing in pain
Ethel was mad and looked on with disdain
So he took a blue pill
Then went in for the kill
And now performs like a stallion again.
But the blue pills power started to wane
As Ethel begged him to do it again
But things came to a stop
Poor Fred started to flop
So they gave up and cracked open champagne...
Then Ethel got hold of a book
Fred fainted when he had a look
Twas the calmer suture
Some poses may suit her
But Fred said it made him feel crook
Aunt Ethel said Freddie my dear
You truly have nothing to fear
Cos tonight’s the night
Much to my delight
We’re swinging from the chandelier!
Old Fred said I don’t understand
Your desire’s got right out of hand
If you want so much sex
Go next door and see Rex
He’s the randiest guy in the land
Aunt Ethel said you’re being silly
At aged ninety I’m no young filly
I still want to have sex
With you and not Rex
Cos Rexie’s got a tiny Willy!
The champers made Ethel quite woozy
Fred’s shattered so he had a snoozey
They were woken at four
It was Rex from next door
No thank you said Ethel I'm no floozy.
Rex hammered again on their door
He said Ethel I've said this before
My sex life is shocking
I hear your bed rocking
These paper thin walls I abhor.
Fred woke up with the pounding on the door
His language was very blue as he swore
He said " what do you want Rex" ?
He said "geriatric sex"
Cos' with Ethel I've done it twice before...
Ethel blushed and she said sorry Fred
Just last winter Rex took me to bed
BUT you were with fat Mable
Making out on our table
So I slept with Rexie instead
Final verse by Belle Bellevue
Fred said Mable has nothing on you
But what’s a poor bloke supposed to do
I heard you and Rex
Planning to have sex
What’s good for you is good for me too.
Collaboration with Jan Allison.
Written 2nd June 2021.