Best According To Plan Poems
Historically accurate, narrative poem
27 November 1868, on the banks of the Washita River
Dawn’s peaceful first light streaks the eastern skies,
belying the horror of a marauding force of horses and men,
silently stealing over new fallen snow preparing
to deliver a fateful blow to the Cheyenne camp below.
The silence is broken when bugles sound the charge
over frozen ground, against a sleeping village that
having complied with every previous unjust demand
thought themselves safe from Custer’s command, deployed
in three columns according to plan, to charge from the west
and the village front, while Maj. Elliot’s column blocked
escape to the east. With the Washita river to their back,
there was no place for chief Black Kettle and his peaceful
band to escape the attack. Braves, women and children, it
made no difference, no preference was shown or quarter
given, most were slaughtered while their lodges burned,
though soon against other creatures the killing would be turned.
Black Kettle reached the river but lost his life while attempting
to cross over with his wife. The lucky few that did survive the
bloody strife and fled across the river to the ridge beyond,
below which their pony herd grazed, soon were filled with
dread and fully amazed when at Custer’s command the entire
herd was shot dead. But by now from other encampments
further east, many Cheyenne Arapaho, and Kiowa braves,
drawn to the sound of guns in the early dawn, were massing
on the hill beyond, milling and buzzing like angry bees, singing
and chanting prayer songs for their dead, filling the soldiers with
a fearful dread. So Custer broke off the engagement and began
to withdraw, but the stage had been set for another day-
June 25, 1876-
when at the Little Big Horne the debt owed for this atrocious
act, Custer and the 7th in full would pay. Meanwhile, as a
prelude it might seem, Maj. Elliot and his column, trapped without
a chance, were wiped out to a man by the Indian’s western advance.
Life doesn’t always go according to plan
I know you will always be by my side
Need you as a soup sister in my life
Let’s hope we meet for real one day
Always supporting me on and off soup
Nothing is too much trouble for you
Expert advice, I appreciate you so much
Did you hear about Frosty The Snowman?
His reign didn't play out according to plan.
Neighborhood dogs peed on him yellow.
He was one most mortified young fellow!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSGT, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Entry for Andrea Dietrich's "A Christmas Character Clerihew" Contest
Kissing her lover beneath sitka tree,
the Alaskan Sunset yawns languidly.
She knows her beauty beguiles in our dreams;
she's also Mistress of Magical Memes.
Bored with her lovely and rapturous charm.
Oft must be beautiful or cause alarm.
Reasoned, if she and Night traded places,
Extra great treat to wear brand new faces!
Together they plotted, this will be fun!
and we'll manage to baffle everyone!
Well before dappled dusk, their dance began:
day became midnight, according to plan.
Scared, people screamed and ran off in terror
Sunset thought, arghh, this could be an error.
She yelled to night, go back and wait awhile!
who said, leave Greatest Time is not my style!
Sunset thought, what a childish man I chose;
I must bring day, like a song, to a close.
Cloudy whispers becoming breathless hues,
while, beneath sitka, Sunset sings the blues.
May 18, 2023
for Sitka Sunset poetry contest
by Craig Cornish
Fully standard man
Come straight out the can
Right into the pan
According to plan
Sports fan
Sensible sedan
Don't ask how it began
Sleepwalking man
In some kind of jam
Wonder where I am
Think it all a big scam
Malfunctioning man
February 24, 2018
Nothing was wrong with the leap;
It was made according to plan,
but the design was interrupted
by the abruptness of the plunge.
Maybe… there was a change of heart
somewhere in midair.
It is marked by a yelp of despair.
The sound of his pain bounces like a jax ball
from the walls of his cylindrical doom.
His every cry echoes like voices on St. Hilda’s square.
Each feeble movement, in his watery tomb,
vibrates like that old proverbial sound of the bongo.
He lie there; a bundle of pain,
and regret he didn’t measure the depth to his death.
The silence pinched the minute there,
while the little dirty-face angel argued his state elsewhere.
St. Hilda’s Memorial, the place of his death.
Under soft cotton covers he stole his last breath.
Strength of a Black woman.
Paths of destiny.
Passing time, down a road
That was only meant to be.
Directions and sights.
Learning to do what's right.
Building my bricks,
Riding rivers and streams
Sightings of Footprints,
to lead to me,
to the World of my dreams.
Always on my team.
Paths of light,
To do what's right.
God guiding my path.
Direction's set, according to plan.
Shadows of pain, that carry on.
Determined to survive the storms.
Earthquakes that have shaken my ground.
What goes around comes around.
Chains are broken.
I am free, was never built to be bound.
Like a bird stuck in a cage
Only God can feel my rage.
Born to fly.
Everyday stay reaching for the sky.
What's Lye's in the dark
still reaching for the light.
Mind drifting, on flight.
First class,
Still I fly, no fuel no gas.
causing tornados when I past.
Never slow, way too fast.
leave you with a whiplash,
like a whale in the ocean, doing flips.
I splash.
Put fake on blast.
Yeah I see you.
Even when you don't see me.
Strength of a Black Woman.
Passing destiny,
down a road, in a time,
always meant for me.
Learning to do what's right.
Told the Devil,
I ain't going out without a fight.
Building my bricks.
Demons stay trying to kick me down.
Wanting to see me drop.
I'm your worst nightmare.
Beware, Realities,
taking your spot.
Paths of destiny.
I believe I can write anything and it would teach you something lol
Let me say this
It's not easy - I had to work for it
Anyway here it goes
Do you believe in comsi comsa -whatever it goes?
Is everything according to plan? - God's plan haha
Now the next question: Is God's plan perfect?
Does God ever tell you what He is doing?
But He does put in your spirit the urge to want something
Because that is what He is going to do for you
Whether you are going to get it right there and then
Or you have to work for it
You will know
Now back to my question
God's plan is always perfect
Because He is a perfect God
You and I are not perfect
So our plan sure is h not perfect
So don't whine or bawl when God has other plans for you
Just remember He is perfect
And His plan for you is perfect
Now do you have any other plans lol?
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 4
Test not people of a violent nature
The choice is not that simple: run if you can
The situation calls for plans more mature
Yijing’s ‘Withdraw into your own armature’
May not the violent deter nor you ban
Test not people of a violent nature
Like as not more cunning than immature
Your lofty thoughts and plans put under scan
The situation calls for plans more mature
Not everyone can alter Laws of Nature
Yet it’s everyone’s duty to make a stand
Test not a people of a violent nature
If you let grow your own virtue in stature
The seasons will follow through according to plan
The situation needs no plans more mature
Can evil people cloaked rude in ill-nature
Succeed where violence breeds not in Man
Test not people of a violent nature
The situation calls for plans more mature
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
8/15/17
No matter what happens next
May not always make sense
And seem far-fetched
On either side of fence
For ages
The whole place going through changes
And phases
Occuring non-stop
Below and above the top
Occasionally might get one's wires crossed
Still try to connect the dots
Across the whole span
Could get out of hand
And go not according to plan
Or end up being a sham
Might have one's hands full
Eye(s) on the goal
In control on one's own mind, body and soul
At a slow rate or pronto
Could be an employee, or the head honcho
Driving a Ford Bronco
Or Lamborghini Murcielago
Struggling to make ends meet, or living like you won the lotto
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Poem By Thomas Lam Hsi
THERE IS ONLY ONE TRUE GOD...THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY...WHO ALONE CAN
SAVE FROM Satan...who plays 'all' roles...the devil...the 'Lord Jesus'...
the 'Father'...the 'Holy Spirit'...all 'Other Gods'...and 'alien gods'...HE...THE
LORD JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF IS FULLY GOD AND MAN...AND HE ALONE...
IS THE ONLY WAY TO GOD THE FATHER...and to an Actual Heaven!
Perfect in beauty, wisdom and honor,
An angel of perfection, until godless in dispair,
Immoral and corrupt, he was blackened forevermore,
A third of the stars, he brought to is lair.
From the gates of Heaven, to Mount Moriah,
A tortured son of God, will one day be a man,
In devious magnificence, every one turned pariah,
And the mighty hand of God, turns them according to plan.
Inflamed in his anger, the Beast waits in his lair,
Until his own Maker, raises this son of perdition,
Ensconced in his palace, he strokes his golden hair,
And waits in vain, as his God mover every partition.
He is nothing to contend with, a simple brush of air,
The Beast is consumed with magnificence,
He is led with his own tail, mindless and without care,
Until he is burned of his perfection, bereft of his brilliance.
4/10/22
I don't care if god forbids it
All day and night long I fidget
Alcoholic drinks I sip it
THC I smoke, another habit have yet to kick it
I pay it all no mind and have zero interest
You'll bleed out and die with a quickness
If you give yourself slit wrists
B**** quit
Stay out of my business
Good riddance
All of these gimmicks
And peculiar characteristics
It had nothing to do with statistics
Logistics
Or physics
I was about to go ballistic
After I listened to mystics
While trying to interpret hieroglyphics
It eventually turned cryptic
Then I started to get it
When for the longest time I didn't
Meanwhile she put on some lipstick
And others continued to nitpick
Thinking that they are the shizznit
When they're soft like a triscuit
There's always somebody trying to solicit
I'll take nothing for Christmas
I use to be looking for a mistress
Now I remain listless
From the start to the finish
It all took mere minutes
To spend it in one instance
For a brief second I held it with my digits
Going according to plan and as scripted
Another batch of drugs shipped in
Now all of this
I overdo it and mix it
ed up and twisted
If it seems worth it to me, I'll risk it
And stay persistent
Even if for the time being it remains distant
No need for a witness
I don't want forgiveness
Or to kick it
I'm going beyond the limits
No matter about being a misfit
The truth hidden
And forbidden
At one point in time, was this planet paid a visit?
Or is it all just a gimmick
There's a big difference between a wish list
Hit list
And s*** list
Which category do you fit in?
Why is it?
So quick to speak and judge, a bunch of critics
But when I talk, they become crickets
Close and far from thickets
As well as any isthmus
Just remember that eventually this is it
5/9/17
Stay aware
Life is not always fair
So be prepared
Whether on land, sea or in the air
Ready to grow
And all set to go
From head to toe
Above and below
Whether rain, sunshine or snow
Among anything else that is and isn't known
Try to understand
And Learn while you can
While experiencing things firsthand
It won't always going according to plan
Turning out to be minor or major
Life may go up and down like an elevator
Still have some more respect for nature
Instead of being willing to put it all in danger
By: Dalton Ogletree
I get up early to till the soil
Spread the cloth to stop the weeds
Carefully lay out and plant the seeds
Knowing the result will be worth the toil
I wait as patiently as I can
Watching for weeds like a hawk
Stay out of my garden I squawk
Everything's perfect according to plan
Days go past incredibly slow
Always looking for that flash of green
Only the weeds have been seen
I keep waiting for my garden to grow
Frustrated I purchase seedlings as a jump start
I plant them in even rows nice and neat
I water them carefully and talk to them sweet
They droop and they wilt, just breaking my heart
Though I treat them with the greatest care
My brown thumb shines no matter what I do
And nothing ever survives the season through
This is the way my plants always fair
I was once being imprisoned by vengeance,
Thinking and doing things to make everything even.
I was once being punished by revenge,
Thinking and doing things against myself.
The trajectory of my thoughts goes the same direction,
Travels its target according to plan,
Whether or not to think and act bad.
Then suddenly, it took the decided location.
A decision that is irrevocable.
Inevitable things wandered my mind,
I do deserve blessings? Do I deserve success?
Even if my inspirations were my hatred and selfishness?
I was dancing through the fire of guilt,
Acting like a hero of my own fantasies and illusions,
Hearing the deafening screams of my darling heart which I burn
For no apparent good reason but to full the hunger soul of my dark shadow.
I played my own rhythm,
In a song with no melody and out of tune,
Then sadness and loneliness were become my friends.
I bothered when I saw my heart turned into blue.
Catastrophe is what I embraced.
Oceanic anger is what I felt.
Death is what I forcibly demanded.
I saw myself amidst the hourglass, asking for help.
Thousands of people heard my voice,
But only one person rescued.
He filled the hole of my heart.
He cleaned my retaliating mind.
I was once being imprisoned by vengeance,
But I see the light of truth, and then I was accepted.
I was once punished by revenge,
But I feel love more than it, and then I paid no debt.