Best Appalled Poems
For centuries, minorities have fought
to gain their human rights. How can it be
that even now so many folks do not
feel safe in “civilized” society?
And one can’t fathom the atrocities
this very minute somewhere going on
affecting innocents in towns and cities!
Great wickedness from day to dusk to dawn!
Laws were established to ensure that we
would have our freedoms each and every day.
I look around me. More and more I see
injustice taking human rights away!
I’m most appalled by censorship and lies
controlling us to feed elitists’ greed
as my so-called “free” government denies
the rights our constitution guaranteed!
The flagrant disregard of human rights
that’s happening today is sickening.
It’s history repeating . . . and the lights
are going out! End times are quickening.
Wake up and see what’s coming! If you don’t,
too soon it will be too late for us all.
Come stand and fight with me, for if you won’t,
we’ll be as slaves, and great shall be our fall.
Dec. 8, 2021
for the 'Human Rights' Poetry Contest of Robert James Liguori
I am a white, middle class, American male; raised in a white, middle class American home. I would not say that my upbringing included a lot of diversity.
I remember talking to my brother, Jimmy, just before he told my father he was gay. Jimmy told me about the inner struggle he wrestled with in first admitting to himself that he was homosexual. He said he thought it was wrong; it was sinful and something he must avoid being. Once he realized that being homosexual was not a fault but an innate sexual preference, he decided that he would not live a life of lies. He, therefore, decided to tell his family about his sexual inclination. It took a lot of courage to tell my ex-marine father.
Afi is a beautiful, strong, black African woman; raised in a black, African home. Afi will admit that she is not overly charitable and not likely to do volunteer work. When she first came to the U.S., however, she was appalled with how our society treated its AIDS victims. In Africa, Afi would tell us, AIDS patients were embraced and cared for, not shunned and outcaste like here in the U.S.
Jimmy was not a promiscuous man. He only knew a few sexual partners in his too short life. Jimmy was a very intelligent and artistically gifted man. He was doing post–doctorate research in Iraklion, Greece when he first started showing symptoms of having AIDS.
When Afi volunteered to be an AIDS Buddy she made it clear that she did not want to be paired with someone who had full-blown AIDS. The organization was so hard pressed to find someone with a profile to match Jimmy’s intellect and interests that they begged Afi to just meet him, just once.
Afi says that within an hour she was no longer on a volunteer mission; she and Jimmy
would be friends regardless of a commitment to the Buddy system. Jimmy and Afi
remained best of friends for the two remaining years we were blessed with his presence.
It has been 15 years since Jimmy passed away. I am still a white, middle class, American male; from a white, middle class American family – only now, we have a beautiful, strong, black, African sister in our family.
Santa was in his sleigh waiting to go
But the elf loading team was a no show
A strike had been called
Santa was appalled
The elves taunted him saying ho ho ho...
Santa muttered and swore under his breath
Warned the strikers they ain't seen nothing yet
Called his friend Bill Gates
They were golfing mates
Bill said " don't worry we'll beat them you bet"...
He sent Santa four hundred giant drones
And an army of robotic elf clones
Who sorted the toys
For good girls and boys
And from the elves you could hear moans and groans...
Santa didn't need to leave the North Pole
Sent the drones off by means of a console
All drones delivered
The poor elves dithered
Santa laughed he was now back in control...
The elves were fuming and they all saw red
They were so angry and wanted him dead
A bomb they did place
In Santa's fireplace
He defused it he was one step ahead...
He came after the elves who all turned pale
Disappointed that the bomb was a fail
Santa aimed his gun
Elves started to run
But the Fed's caught them and threw them in jail...
The next day they went up against Judge Dread
Who listened to what was done, what was said
It ended in tears
All got twenty years
And told don't mess with the man dressed in red...
Written on 6th December 2020.
I have been a Christian for many years,
Hiding behind the mad poet has drenched me with tears
For I am a sinner the chief of them all
Writing poetry that has made me feel appalled
I have coveted, lied, hated and stole
Indulged in adultery with an innocent sole
I have broken my family, and now live in separate homes
While writing perversions of my conquests in poems
The thing that worries me, is that I feel nothing at all
This is what scares Sidney. C Hall
I see the ten commandments almost all broken
Save for killing no words of remorse that are spoken
Am I destined to a life burning in hell?
As part of the masses with speeches that make heads swell
Denying God and not seeking his Grace
Awaiting the day to say “I have no excuse,” to his face
Or believing a lie that there is no forgiveness
And just going along my ungodly business
Ladies and Gentleman my soul is in turmoil
Sin runs through my veins causing my blood to boil
I say to myself Sid you need to change,
Then the next minute something take me out of range
But I feel nothing, so how can this scare me
If I feel nothing , why is fear in hell, I see
Could this be God preparing my final years
I hope and pray soaked in tears
They kick God out of classrooms
And evil walks right in
Innocents are led to slaughter
Before their lives can even begin
Our jaws drop from the shock
We are appalled by such a crime,
But we voted for laws to kick god out
To usher in such times
I remember morning prayers in class
And a hymn or two we'd sing
We would join hands around the flagpole
A give thanks for the grace he brings.
This nation was founded on godly principals
And his blessings poured out each day
But we grew up trying it on our own
And look at the troubles that come our way.
You dont have to believe me
And keep turning your head away
But the proof is happening before our eyes
And gets worse each passing day
Theres now a number of innocent children,
Who are sitting before Gods throne
And hes wrapping his love around them
Because this world has let them go.
How much suffering must we endure
What will it take to make things right
We must allow God to rule our lives
Til evil is banished from our sight.
We can blame it on the monsters
Or some will curse God for what was done
But we should look real hard at our own direction
If this battle is truly to be won
Something is a brewing in the yeast war
The Vegemite team has grown
Can you hear our roar?
There’s a band of Aussie ladies
Vegemite Vixens we are called
Just comparing Marmite to Vegemite
We are totally appalled……
Anne Sangster is second in charge
In case anything happens to me
At the hands of Marmites leader the evil Tom C
Shirley Hawkins, Christine Watts and Betty Ladd
Are the “mitey” Vegemite Vixens team
Here to make sure Vegemite continues to reign supreme
So grab your knives and toast
Take the lid of your jar
Come out of hiding Marmite Man
Wherever you and your army are!!!
I just KNEW I was a woman
a woman inside a man’s body
therefore I went under the knife
(My surgeon said it went well)
But when I looked in the mirror
I was appalled and yes, horrified
Even after applying makeup
and donning a push-up bra
I was just plain----Ug-LEEE
(We shan’t discuss chest-down)
Thus, I had a change of heart
I wanted to restore my manhood
and kindly asked my doctor
for a reverse operation...
Wanna know what she told me??
“GIRL, you ain’t got the BALLS”...
I worked in an Insurance office and loved my job
But the manager was an idle fat slob
He’d put in expenses sheets for work he hadn’t done
And was out of the door in front of everyone
But I digress…
He asked me to call two people on the phone
Could’ve called them himself but I didn’t moan
When I saw the names of the people I thought it was a joke
Surely these couldn’t be real names of these unfortunate folk
One man was called Olaf Pratt
I saw his name and laughed at that
The second was called Mr Erdogdu
It made me think of doggy pooh on my shoe!
I picked up the phone to dial the first number
But I started to laugh, it was a real blunder
I was unable to call; all I could do was giggle
My tears flowed and how my shoulders did wiggle
I composed myself to try and make the second call
Pressed a couple of digits, but I couldn’t dial them all
For I started laughing at Mr Erdogdu’s name
I’d failed at my task it was a terrible shame
The boss came in and asked why I hadn’t called
When he saw I’d been laughing he was quite appalled
I was as red as a beetroot and had tears in my eyes
To me the names were SO funny, this fact I couldn’t disguise
Snatching the piece of paper he gave me the cold shoulder
I cringe at this memory even though now I’m so much older
Since then I’ve had friends with surnames of Moron and Looney
I’m glad I’m more mature now and not that lass that was gooney!
This poem really is based on true events but I had to make these calls on separate days and not together as in this tale … but the result was the same I couldn’t make these calls for laughing at these unfortunate names.
My most embarrassing moment Contest Sponsored by Cindi Rockwell
07~15~16
A Poem About Nothing but Love
By: Tyner Twine
"I edited a few parts from my original poem.
As tribute to my first love's requiem.
Nevertheless, this simple soul song is the same,
Written all for love and not for fame.
A poem of love I wrote on hot summer day,
remembering the love that has, for so long, faded away."
Would someone care to explain
Why people write poems in a way
That adorns with jewels something so plain
That expresses emotions beyond the insane
I lift my quill and dwelt on the thought,
And realized the reflections I made and forgot...
There I lift my pen
THEN PAUSED and reflected:
How should I begin to write,
About lads and gals with love at first sight?
Though I have tried as hard as I might,
To close my eyes from love's delight,
He won me over without a fight,
Now all I see is love's pure light.
I wondered... Now I shall write:
Have I become some kind of fool
Who let Love ruin my poems and rules?
Who let Nostalgia come and play
With distant Beloved's memories on a working day?
Have I been foolish every night,
To think his arms are holding me tight,
To wish that he'll come home to stay,
That he'll make love to me every night and day
I think these thoughts and was appalled,
How | felt too warm and oh, so galled
In thinking that these thoughts might stay,
and be my ruin at the end of the day.
Love, oh love, is a cruel thing for fools if I might say,
Though it is delightful it has a price to pay.
Fool, fool, fool! With love as her tool... I am.
Beguiled and ruined.
Oh ~ why can't they just write about trees?
Or how honey flows and comes from bees?
Why can't they just write about the Sky?
See the clouds and the mist and the birds that fly?
Why can't they just write about life?
How calves are born and how they die?
How flowers bloom with the light of the moon,
How the sun rose up and set too soon?
Oh, a foolish poet's heart of clay,
Be molded with the warmth of fate's faint sway!
For life changed drastically above,
As the fool that I am
Writes a poem about nothing but love.
A tall giraffe at our local zoo
Got neck ache, (as giraffes often do)
With his neck being so long
The pain was terribly strong
That he couldn’t reach the leaves to chew
The giraffe doctor was quickly called
At the condition he was appalled
He told the staff not to laugh -
Just get giraffe in the bath
So to the bath the giraffe was hauled
Well you can just imagine the sight
The poor staff the giraffe tried to bite!
They got him in the tub
Gave his neck a good rub
Then they tucked him in bed for the night
They were told they must keep his neck warm …
To this order the staff must conform
Staff decided to knit
A long scarf that would fit
It’s now part of giraffe’s uniform!
Animal Antics Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
09~05~16
N B The title will be amended after the contest to - 'You're having a Giraffe'
which in rhyming slang means you are having a laugh.
As our golden years began,
you and I made a pact.
In youth we once soared high,
but now our skin is cracked
and our best years seem hijacked.
When I was diagnosed with illness,
you were the first person I called
and I marveled at your stillness.
You didn’t phone for weeks; I was appalled,
being tossed away by one who’s fat and bald.
Looking for a replacement after four years.
the next day you were on dating sites,
Is your tired old photo being met there by cheers?
Pact-breaker, this just bites!
I won’t be there when they give you last rites.
Any woman you find won’t stay with you long;
sarcastic cheaters stay with their kind.
Perhaps another innocent will come along,
but your whiskey and alcohol she’ll leave behind.
Yours is the fate of one who by a pact won’t be confined.
*Pact poem for Paula’s contest
On flight to our Hawaii honeymoon, a beautiful young mother with cherub baby in arms expounded to us with eloquent conviction the unspoiled beauty of Hana.
On arrival we checked the map and left the side trip in our mind until walking the streets of Maui we met that same woman appalled at our delay to heed her advice and indulge our senses in paradise Hana. Afraid to meet her again I convinced honey to take me to those enchanting waterfalls, rugged serene shorelines, ancient mystical forests and so he started our forty miles drive from HI-37 to a:
narrowing one lane
winding high mountain edge cliffs
above precipice
Sixth Place: Cecilia Drewer-Haibun- 8/2/17
Oh, I am so angered, outraged and appalled
I think that I’m going bald
My dad had great hair
So I never really cared
But, to the hair club for men I am called
From my butt, they could extract some hair
Because I think I have so much to spare
But I cannot tell
Do you think it would smell?
Oh well I think, I’ll just leave it there
From Poland hailed your Uncle Max, who in matters of manners was a bit lax,
While from France came Aunt Belle, whom I thought was really quite swell.
Next up from Russia was Cousin Boris, whom I always confused with Nephew
Morris;
And then from Germany came Aunt Gitel, whose fingers fairly flew o'er
her fiddle.
After that from Lita came Uncle Beryl, whose fistic prowess put enemies
in peril.
Of course, from Ukraine came Cousin Emma, whose soup was the crème de
la crema.
It's our duty to recall Uncle Saul, though no one knew where he came from
at all
And finally, from Prussia, poor Aunt Masha, who subsisted for years on
potatoes and kasha.
What's this? You say you don't know any of these relatives at all?
Neither their names nor those of their children can you recall?
Then furrow your brow and bestir your brain; just don't be appalled:
Uncle Max may have been from Krakow, but his skeleton was prematurely
interred by the Nazis at the death-camp of Dachau.
Cousin Emma was from a wealthy family in Vizhnitz, though her fiery
cremation was reserved for the ovens of Auschwitz.
And pretty Gitel, who grew up in the small village of Dulmen, was gunned
down in the caverns of Bergen-Belsen...
So much for our family tree.
Had grandpa not fled to America by sea,
One of those dead branches above
Would surely have been me.
HOLOCAUST MEMORIAL DAY -- 73RD ANNIVERSARY -- APRIL 12, 2018
NEVER FORGET!
I ride my unicorn along a rocky shore
As the full moon glistens on the waves
A beauty in the distance catches my eye
She is basking in the moons reflective glow
As the full moon glistens on the waves
I am completely mesmorized
She is basking in the moons reflective glow
I am drawn to be so much nearer to her
I am completely mesmorized
Her there naked laying on that rock
I am drawn to be so much nearer to her
As I look I notice her tail
Her there naked laying on that rock
A temptation I can hardly resist
As I look I notice her tail
She beckons me to give her a kiss
A temptation I can hardly resist
I see the moonlight in her eyes
She beckons me to give her a kiss
I leap from the unicorn to be in her arms
I see the moonlight in her eyes
Sometimes beauty isn't what it seems
I leap from my unicorn to be in her arms
Then I watch as she is stabbed through the heart
Sometimes beauty isn't what it seems
I am enchanted by her siren call
Then I watch as she is stabbed through the heart
The unicorn's horn hits it's mark
I was enchanted by her siren call
Now I'm appalled by what I see
The unicorn's horn hit it's mark
A scaled monster lays dead on a rock
Now I'm appalled by what I see
How could I ever have been so blind
A scaled monster lays dead on a rock
Blood trickles from the unicorn's horn
How could I ever have been so blind
A beauty in the distance caught my eye
Blood trickles from the unicorn's horn
I ride my unicorn along a rocky shore
Mythological Animals or bird contest.
June 3rd 2013