Best A Great Deal Poems
Some folks smile when I say I’m a writer
Some smirk, suggesting I should get a job
My stories and poems make our days brighter
Fantasy often, and, occasionally macabre.
Some of my poems make your heart throb
They may elicit laughter when I am lighter,
Friends enjoy going out with me to hobnob
Some folks smile when I say I’m a writer.
Writing opinion, I can be a fierce fighter
A sarcastic line I have been known to lob
To meet a deadline, I’ve pulled an all-nighter
Some smirk, suggesting I should get a job.
My profession does not make me a snob
For I need your stories to write a nail-biter,
Just as history gave us Hugo’s Les Misérables,
My stories and poems make our days brighter.
I edit a great deal to make my writing tighter
Much time and effort’s required, I’m no slob.
I write a mixture of genre, I can be a compiler,
Fantasy, sometimes; occasionally macabre.
So, I pay little attention to the illiterate blob
To those who delight in being a backbiter,
Who are no more important than a watch fob
Spending their time in meaningless blighter,
When I say I’m a writer.
Written June 15, 2022
#33 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
June 22, 2022
#36 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
June 19, 2022
“The future belongs to those who
believe in the beauty of their dreams.”
-- Eleanor Roosevelt
Granny Grew Up
Eleanor was not thought to be beautiful, but God
uses an ugly duckling in his plans. Severe
was her grandmother, that made her dress dowdy.
Her father, she loved him dearly, but he was a drunk.
Fulfilled dreams live in the future, and in the future again,
often fleeting, the present breaking one’s heart.
Eleanor’s mother-in-law, harsh, unyielding; her husband
would be unfaithful - what was he like at the start?
Still, this starling became a First Lady; her husband
in charge of the country, and at a time of great turmoil.
She mothered six children; and became a diplomat.
As a child, was known as “Granny,” for being serious.
But this serious woman would make her mark, not
just as a woman on a man’s arm, but so much more.
This swan would fly together and on her own, beautiful
in her own way. I lived in her shadow, read her book.
I grew up in Hyde Park, New York; saw her son once.
My classmate was held by Eleanor at a fire station.
I rubbed elbows, of sorts. Eleanor fascinated me.
She made, or rather God, made her dreams come true.
Like us, she suffered a great deal, in various ways.
Dreams are not shaped without adversity. We wish.
Did you know, she took to the air with Earhart?
Live your life breathlessly, hopefully - be beautiful!
For Andrea’s contest
Show me the Funny (part two)
Eskimo Nell & the Door Repair Man
Now Eskimo Nell
Has a story to tell
A tale, about my last visit
Into her igloo
I went through and through
Though this entrance I’m told is illicit
She said, “Just for you
That one will do
Coz the wind, it chills to the core
Me back gets stone froze
When whoever, God knows
Is hammering, at the front door”
I told her, “Thank you”
And with no more ado
I slammed that back door with some might
I was grateful to seize
Some relief from the freeze
And discover it fitted so tight
She said she was pleased
That it had come un-seized
For some of her clients she thought
Preferred the back door
Where nobody saw
They were doing what they hadn’t ought
“I’d keep it well oiled
Coz you don’t want it spoiled
As it sure gets a great deal of use
So if it gets dry
You’ll find standing by
This bottle of lubricant juice”
Then the bolt was so stiff
Which was nothing diff
So plenty of juice I applied
Coz I’d known from before
It could give you a sore
If the bolt did not easily slide
Now the bolt it was cold
Like an ice cube to hold
And to warm up it needed some friction
It, I moved back and forth
For all I was worth
And it helped being in such constriction
She asked “Are you done”
I said, “No, not yet hon”
So I picked up the pace, worked like hell
Soon achieved my aim
She said, “Glad that you came
You’re great service to Eskimo Nell”.
My Dad, a pretty ordinary man,
Suddenly taken by a heart attack.
People are offering all that they can,
Cakes and hot casseroles we do not lack,
Hard to believe the whole town has our back.
Their kindness seems to be never ending
The new normal of mine just keeps bending,
Focus seems to be on us completely,
Thoughtfulness and support, all are sending,
Comments of sympathy made so sweetly.
Sorry for your loss, just how old was he,
Using this information did matter.
I reply he was almost eighty-three,
The mood changes, I hear idle chatter.
Suddenly I feel a great deal sadder,
Death is simply another part of life,
You should be grateful and not feel such strife.
He was old, did not suffer, I was told,
My heart bleeds after the cut by this knife.
Judging approval of death by age --- cold.
Written July 27, 2012
For Cyndi MacMillan’s contest
“Do You Understand”
Won 3rd place
Donald, what are you doing with all those trash cans?
Building a wall Mom, I have some great plans.
Don't worry Mom the neighbor will pay,
I'll make our yard a safe place to play.
I'll charge the mailman an import tax,
worked a great deal for our garbage sacks.
Our Mexican lawn man now has legal egress,
home schooling the rule with more recess.
Band aids and aspirin from now on are free,
you and sister Suzie guaranteed equality.
Allowances will raise to a living wage,
I increased our security with a pit bull named Rage.
We're going to win Mom, like never before,
we'll live with the neighbors in mutual rapport.
Your going to love it when I take reign,
I'm going to make home great again.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr
5/8/16 ©
The number of fish species comprises a very long list.
However, one does not need to be an ichthyologist.
Just go to any seafood department at a supermarket.
There are many tasty varieties of fish we can get.
Fish is high in protein which can make us stronger.
It's lower in fat which can help us live longer.
Serve up some fish, and you will have a good meal.
Search the stores where you can get a great deal.
inspired by another member's poem
Spoken like an Angel
From the mouth of a babe
Her words came to me so clearly
She had so much to say
“Behold, The Journey of Colors” she said,
Pointing to her painting
She had no idea how much sense
All of this was making
She pulled the brush across the canvas,
With every little stroke
Of beauty, life, and tragedy
Her little voice spoke
She let me see through her eyes
The world of imagination
She brings me a great deal of hope
In a world of stagnation
She speaks with words of wisdom
That can not be her own
Knowledge and simplicity
And how we’re not alone
I believe her words are spoken
Not from voices in her head
But these are the voices
Of God and Angels instead
Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend
Dedicated to my Angel; my six year old daughter that inspires me to be a better person.
Way down yonder, beyond the barn,
In that soggy, muddy old bog,
In a small and crowded, murky pool,
Lived gloomy Tad, the pollywog.
One of the things that made young Tad
Resentful and unhappy,
Was the very simple fact that he
Looked nothing like his pappy.
And, you know, he also didn't look
A great deal like his mamma.
What this pollywog resembled most
Was a chubby, little comma.
And the safest place--to say the least--
Was not that shrinking pool,
Where one well might be ingested
By some poor misguided fool.
Then one day Tad got so fed up
With his principal place of abode,
That he grew some legs, left the pond,
And became a happy toad.
I prepare myself for a deep relaxing bath
but that dratted spider was out to have a laugh
As I pour scented bubble bath into the water
Spidey climbs the wall - he’d also bought his daughter*!
He raises a spindly leg as if to wave hello
that pesky crawling spider really needs to go
It's a living a nightmare, it isn’t a dream
So I emit a very loud ear piercing scream
My heroic hubby dashes to my aid
as my distress was clearly displayed
Whilst I stand their screaming like a stupid bimbo
hubby tosses the weeny spider out the bathroom window
Alas the daddy spider he has other plans
and wriggles his way out of hubby’s hands
Hubby drops the creepy critter onto the floor
spidey plans his escape, he's heading for the door
Hubby pounces on him at breakneck speed
and squashes him flat ... he’s dead indeed*
*A great deal of poetic licence – thankfully there was only one spider and he was tossed out of the Window* I think the warm weather is bringing these pesky spider’s out from hiding:-(
Follow up poem to www.poetrysoup.com/poem/i_confessed_to_a_cold_blooded_murder_1029155
6/9/18
Even though you're not here,
I miss your morning meows
I've ignored you parting from me
But, you haven't gone anyhow.
I remember six years ago,
When you came into my life
We had so much fun back then
Those years have `been our best flight!'
The best cat anyone could ask for,
Sure was super stylish for being a cat
I'll see you again, my fur buddy friend
You keep a lookout for me until then.
I've learned a great deal from you,
It was last year you departed
I know you're still around here
Because you've embedded in my heart.
R.I.P. Mischief Lotus, my love to you!
Heart aches a great deal.
Feeling the guilt' real.
Pouring through my eyes is tears;
Unable to put in words my fears.
Though am the partial wrong doer'
I wouldn't like to justify, as it is over.
And to you i sing this apology song,
As i cannot forget you for a second long,
For the mistake i committed, knowing,
Just avoiding your advices from following.
Frightened, that the love you bestowed would cease,
I plead you to forgive me and bestow your love in ease.
Punish me with word or hand.
Never ever band me from experiencing your love,
As you are my second mother,
And my heart gives no place to another.
Accept my apology!
I don't need very much to stay alive,
a little urban rain from time to time.
It's not luxurious, here in the ground,
but I'm content with it, this life of mine.
There's not a lot for me to view from here;
the iron forest always sees to that.
It must be nice to venture past those trees;
but trapped am I, within this concrete crack.
At times, my mistress seems unfair; although,
I'm quite accustomed to this static fate;
her morning eye and moistful firmament
ensure my needs are met, despite my state.
I'm well aware her sight does take a while
to reach my herbal arms from where I stand,
but being patient is a noble trait,
and one that's helped me flourish in this land.
Oh there's no need to worry over me;
I'm quite resilient for a city weed.
I know I can't get up and rule my life;
but as I said, there's not much that I need.
But what of you, my busy human friend?
How goes the life your maker granted you?
Forgive my prying, but I'm most concerned
with all the stress that you've been going through.
You have the freedom to decide your home,
the priv'lege to decide what you will eat,
the sov'reignty to change your day's routine,
and you were gifted with nomadic feet.
I cannot say decisions aggravate,
for they are favors I have never had.
But how can one despise such dowery?
I can't imagine how that'd be so bad.
So listen to this humble seedling's word:
before you think your life is but a curse,
take out the time to reassess your gifts;
your life could surely be a great deal worse.
KEEPING UP WITH THE DOW JONESES
These here are the indisputable facts
I was born on the right side of the tracks
WITH People who only smiled if their stocks or equity increased
If not they wouldn’t have minded becoming deceased
They had big cars, big bucks and big time class
With a million dollar house mortgaged up the a*s
Their children went to private schools in uniforms
With charming and well decorated dorms
I looked at their faces and wondered why I didn’t fit
That’s when the fire in my belly was originally lit
I had no desire to play with kids from private schools
Nor did I ever agree to obey by their rules
So one day I skipped over steel and these here are the facts
The people I found lived in tents, not even shanties or shacks
But they didn’t have to read Dow Jones in order to smile
And couldn’t care less about having Gucci type style
They smiled at things people ignore like little tykes at play
And somehow or other they AWOKE contented day after day
They had no stocks to watch fretfully fall or RESOUNDINGLY rise
And you could see the easiness in their gleaming eyes
That which I observed in them appealed to me a great deal
The wrong side people taught me how satisfied I could feel
They lived out of back-packs, antique cedar chests and sacks
So if you come a’looking for me I’ll be on the wrong side of the tracks
© 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Life Lines
When I look at Grandma’s face
there’s a great deal I can see.
Every furrow shows a trace
of her family’s history.
There’s a line for every struggle
every victory she’s won.
There are tender lines for daughters
and generous ones for sons.
Beneath her eyes lines of sorrow
show how many tears she’s cried
yet around her mouth as many
show her laughter and her pride.
Grandma’s face is full of charm
and for every line I see
a gentle spirit revealed
in her love for family.
DOWN A STORM DRAIN GONE FOREVER.
There was once a wicked, jealous old human,
Who lived in a house down the lane,
Not far from us,
Ugly and mean sounding, couldn’t tell
If man or woman,
Was narky to the neighborhoods children,
Including me,
We discovered this human was woman with
One large bosom!
She lived on her own, no children or husband,
Or even a pet,
She always wore the same apron, her hands always
Hidden in this grubby apron,
My friends decided on a bet,
That she had a gun and would should shoot,
Us all dead
Why else would she always keep her hands
In her apron we said!
We could never have guessed the truth
About this apron.
One day we saw two young girls laughing at her
She was furious, fiddled in her apron
And immediately,
Upon doing this, the girls fell, and each
Broke a leg!
We couldn’t believe what we had seen, I noticed a
Hairpin on the path, going back, very sharp,
And then another and another,
Each one, a different color.
Obviously someone was throwing the
Used pins away,
In a very careless way!
I have to find out what is in her apron pocket,
I said to my friends, so early the next day,
We all met
Behind her house, I was chosen to be
The pickpocket,
So I crept along the bushes outside her house
Waiting for her to have her afternoon snooze,
I saw a locket around her neck which was open
And from it peeped bright colored
Hairpins, she was asleep,
With one eye open, I thought I could see
Her eye socket!
Terrified I stretched out my hand, put it gently
Into her apron pocket,
And pulled out a tattered faceless little doll,
Home made from potato sackcloth,
A voodoo doll, screamed James,
He was certainly not wrong for he played
A great deal of TV horror games!
She obviously pricked the voodoo doll
With colored pins,
Every time someone annoyed her, she would one
Day pay for her sins!
As quickly as we could we ran to the nearest drain
Down the street and dropped it in, it fell silently
And disappeared, gone forever,
That woman was not sane!
The next day early we walked towards her house,
The house was empty and the horrid old witch gone,
We breathed a sigh of relief as we watched
A new morning dawn!
Contest: Down a storm drain, gone forever,
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Date entered: 2019/03/02