Best Above Board Poems | Poetry
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The Best Above Board Poems
Above Board Poem
Some people come to church just to be seen
No Holy nor any Ghost in them can be gleaned
Now Jesus was in the temple
Teaching a class
Until some Pharisees came to Him
Acting like an ***
They presented a woman to Him
Whom they say committed adultery
Trying to set a trap attempting
To rebuke His sovereignty
Jesus drew a line in the sand
And He then spoke at last
He said "he who is without sin
Be first a stone to cast"
To focus on the faults of others
Causes one to neglect one's own responsibilities
Preoccupied with other's wrongdoings
Makes one blind to their own atrocities
Now I have to ask this one question
Where did they find that woman at?
For in order to accuse her of adultery
One of them must have participated in fact
To look into others lives
Is not your purpose not reason for being
Stay in your lane and focus on
The road you are seeing
Too preoccupied with the faults of others
And not addressing your own shortcomings
Minding someone else's business
An enterprise you're not even running
Instead of looking at someone else's load
You should be looking at the Lord
Staying on your road
And all will be above board
So don't look left, don't look right
Just keep looking straight ahead
Be a productive human being
And by the Holy Spirit now led
To be a help and not a hindrance
To your fellow man
Not preoccupied with the faults of others
But to lift up and help stand
So stay in your lane
And guard your behavior
Focus on teaching others to do right
Like Jesus the Christ Our Savior
Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2018
Above Board Poem
Where do we come in
in medias res not knowing nor caring when
doesn’t everybody pine being number one we leave behind our lives in pages pictures or else make for images of what we saw dreamt of as part of our lives in marble stone rock twisted metal scrawled hieroglyphics of the tortured deserting mind do we have to leave then or when or do we strain for more ours and others
lives in one vista of the whole on the tele they are playing games plentiful games rubber boats caves and scaly cardboard mountains in gluey-glossy plastic colours each team was flown in on the sponsor’s purse each team member tailored for each part sporting spotted crocodile scales bunny tails blown butterfly ears bearhair streaming down from head to toe in a brownish hugging fur hue before and after the sponsor’s exclusive breaktime slot invited guests clapping deaf on peak dinnertime and for millions and millions of others relaxing at home or maybe standing leaning against the open door or lolling on sofas sweetmeats within reach of crawling fingers highballs in handsafter lush juices streaking down protein-heaped plates turned to a gravy curd on the low table that the au pair would remove before the programme end while the prize board chalked hundreds of thousands for those who merely did nothing else other than have themselves a ball
in whose stomach-holes do the golf balls sink
the postman in the morning brings in the Waste Industry’s thick envelopes stuffed with multi-coloured magazines together with ball-points with your name inscribed as though you were to be called on to affix your signature to international treaties that last only as long as the ball-point would that is to say three and half days if you use it only twice your name and add elegantly embossed on handsome stickers asking for handouts with glorious recall of their efforts for the poor the sans abri the diabetics the heart-stricken the spastics the handicapped the endless medical research for cancer how many million times can research be duplicated and all those lush colours in deluxe printed covers if only they could print a poem for some poet without a literary agent every time they send out a bulging envelope you give to one and the whole damned carnival is at your door cymbals clanging voices hymning every week of the year year in and year out they send you their mag with professional photos of dying but well-fed sick forsaken-looking children posing from Ethiopia India Costa Rica ha the Rich Coast what you give in return cannot cover the cost of stamps after a mere stream of au secour calls for oeuvres caritatives during a period of weeks or months
in whose sick souls do the golf balls sink
what are they doing so wonderful that is not like the blaring blazé voice of the compère on the tele on a Saturday evening primetime show who gets paid in the hundreds of thousands just because he’s a celebrity and all the made-moi-selles in the front row with tongues lolling would at the slightest glance be ready to lick their hands a tincan Saturday night chivalrous mounted charger whom the hebdomadaire hounds write pages and pages about their visits to any old place what they wear which senorita worshipping at their lapels so often that people don’t look at their faces anymore for they know every feature by heart every trait every dimple and pimple
in whose brain holes do the golf balls sink
right round the year shine tennis stars the same faces jumping up and down the ATP grunting and swearing after balls that bounce out and away from their needless hands their eyes straining beyond all measure of human endurance each ball they hit virtually a hundred dollar bill and when they are pushed down in the ATP list by the fresh teens buoyed by muscle tyre-lessness there’s always the clowning in the rigged up exhibition matches or the doubles or mixed doubles Man and John Yan and JM to take the laugh out of the bounce in the yo-yo ATP also-ran list
in whose psyche-holes do the golf balls sink
what do they send in the post to the directors of the beggars’ opera what do popstars contribute they who sell the I heard that classical melody song on bandaid to millions and get gold in return infinitely more than they can use who filled the paupers’ grave with Mozart who gives a thought to the lonely pilfered Cervantes but the Sancho of his delirium
in whose a-holes do the golf balls sink
was that MJ gyrating grabbing his crotch in a spacecraft the decor specially ordered and paid for for the nonce what did it cost what’s the cost of an Ethiopian peasant Indian meal a day uncooked corn or flour douzed in tinned or dried milk the surplus waste of white markets all above-board of course eaten out of rusty discarded worm-twirling tins and cans and shells of infested coconuts
in whose dream-holes do the golf balls sink
where do the directoires of the beggars’ opera dine what do they suck on and how often do they sup together in the name of the needy all over the romping world do they wine themselves while gobbling on foie gras caviar shark’s fin and pheasant or is this an impudent question you the charity-mongers
so here we come in
in medias res
it ain’t mon problème that the needy can’t ask but in the street i’m not the conscience of the world the grapes of wrath the martyrised conscience of the common Indian patting tortias on the mud patch a strong people don’t need a strong man how do you make a people strong if not with tortias and chilli con carne are they still strong where Zapata left only his riddled body in straw sandals has the Indian peasant still enough fight left in him where drug cartels rule a kingdom where ideals hardly thrust up on reefers
follow the golf balls and squirm jumping up and down in a squirting frenzy on the mons veneris
© T. Wignesan –Paris, 1997 From the collection (revised) : longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999.
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016
Above Board Poem
Every poet worth their sault
Every teacher and professor declare you will prove to be as dense as a London fog
But I think clichés make it clear as the nose on your face
That there are things as beautiful as the day is long
And as far as the eye can see
As many to enjoy as there are chins in a Chinese phone book
So my advice to young writers,
From time to time abandon the ship USS Proper Expression
Be above board
Do an about face
Make clear as a bell
That a rose by any other name does still smell as sweet
That absence still makes the heart grow founder
Airing dirty laundry is a no no
And if you must have an ace up your writer's sleeve
Let it be a cliché!
Copyright © Americo Petrocelli | Year Posted 2016
Above Board Poem
I can only presume your neck is in a brace,
Or why else could you not see what is in your wake.
I have a mirror you can borrow so you can see the fish you refused to take,
Now just treats for the sharks.
And what about your quota is that all above board and ship shape,
Or should I arrange a visit for you to see your fishing future,
I know you can look forward even with your brace on.
How about your ethics, are they the ones you started out in life with?
Or have you used undue influence to get a better quota.
If you have time to talk there is a solution,
That will still let our grandchildren's children have fish and chips.
A new kind of net a clever Kiwi has invented
Which lets the wrong sized and unwanted fish swim back out.
You will even notice the fish that you catch,
Will be less bruised and better to eat.
This new net may even save you some maintenance costs,
So you can lower your quota,
For the sake of our grandchildren's children.
Copyright © David Smith | Year Posted 2016
Above Board Poem
in the book of Luke there's a reference that's mentioned
a disclosure of the boy named Jesus and His future intentions
He had been chosen to wear the Jewish crown upon His head
and attend to His Father business, a destiny spirit-led
the teenage boy Jesus, the Adolescent Christ
understood at an early age He had a true mission in life
born to the carpenter Joseph and the Virgin Mary
born in the city of Nazareth in abject poverty
an immaculate conception, born out of wed-lock
many could not perceive of the gift His parents had got
one day Jesus and His parents travelled out of town
but on the road back home, Jesus could not be found
His parents became frantic, they could not understand
that He would be in the temple fulfilling God's master plan
the Adolescent Christ was just trying to comprehend
His true purpose for being on earth among mere men
He was seeking the knowledge that which He needed to know
from whence He had came and where He was destined to go
He was appointed with a chosen destiny
and had a desire to know why He was given this activity
don't go about allowing society to put labels on you
don't allow anyone to tell you what you can not do
seek out your lineage and about your ancestors learn
then apply that knowledge to everything in life you need to discern
for you have been chosen just like the Adolescent Jesus Christ
remember God had a purpose for giving you life
as youths yourselves, you are in a precarious situation
not quite adults but needing your own sense of validation
walking a fine line between the young and the old
trying to be respectful with a desire to be bold
the Adolescent Christ, Jesus the boy king
determined to discover what His appointment did mean
and just like the teenagers of society today
searching, hoping and seeking to find their own way
with a craving to look beyond their own expectations
wanting to exceed their ancestors accumulations
just let the Lord God strengthen you and let Him be your guide
and like His son Jesus Christ, let the Holy Spirit in you reside
trust in Him, believe in Him and may your conduct be above board
discover your heritage and your destiny while doing the work of the Lord
Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2007
Above Board Poem
your natural talents may get you into life's proverbial car
but it's the content of your character that will drive you far
true success doesn't always come with financial prosperity
true success is measured by how you maintain your integrity
it matters not your title, your status nor the things you possess
it's the content of your character that will make your testimony progress
nothing happens overnight and true success is usually a journey
and your character is what will provide the meat for the gravy
just don't become arrogant and think you can do it all alone
for humility is the bulldozer that will knock you off your throne
to be like Joseph who by his own brothers was sold and betrayed
to be like Joseph who despite everything from his character he never strayed
never to become discouraged and angry by the hand in life he was dealt
never to compromise his belief and integrity nor to become bitter by the hurt
your character will maintain you no matter the circumstance
your integrity and faith will sustain in spite of the happenstance
God has great plans for you and He's already mapped out the chart
plans of hope and a future with a righteousness of heart
for whatever God has in mind for you nothing and no one can ever stop
He will always keep His eyes on you and lift you up to the top
so let the content of your character remain steadfast and above board
as true success and prosperity will be coming from the Lord
Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2008
Above Board Poem
Back in the day, to earn my way
I added minutes to callings cards for which clients would pay
To avoid impropriety
Their address was required for security.
One day a gentleman called in named Neal,
But his address he would not reveal!
"I don't understand," he whined, "why do you pry?"
"Sir," I said, "it's just something we must verify."
"Well, I think you're invading my privacy!"
"Sir, my employer requires it for legitimacy-
Since the credit card number is already stored,
it's to confirm the charge is above-board."
At this he sniffed and then claimed
The address was still the same
As the one listed under his name.
I sighed, "Sir, I may just be a clerk,
But it must be specific, 'It's the same,' just won't work."
Around and around on this point we went
Until my patience was tapped, my energy spent.
"So, Neal," I said to end the fight,
"I show it is 72 Moss St, is that right?"
"Yes, it is," he agreed immediately.
"Now that's funny, I don't see how that could be,
Since that's MY address, and I know you don't live with me!"
"Oh, um-" click! and there the call ended-
But that wasn't my address, I only pretended!
Fool Me Once contest
Sponsored by Brenda Chiri
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2018