Best Argued Poems
Two scruffy pirates picked me up.
Intending to toss me overboard.
I weighed too much; they were struggling.
True.
They needed to lighten their load.
But I was not going easy.
I purposefully got heavier.
"She is flotsom," the tall fat one said.
"Jetsam," the dumb ugly one argued.
"Let's get a dictionary," I said. "Let's do this right."
This gave me a few more days,
as there were no books on this ship.
Toy Story characters argued ~ then Jessie told Woody to buzz off
he'd been caught flirting with Bo Peep ~ uh oh, Woody, you're in trouble deep
Jessie said she was leaving ~ couldn't get over Woody's deceiving
oh what a terrible end for the two ~ makes me want to cry, boo hoo
can Woody end his cheating ways ~ Jessie doesn't trust his word these days
he knocked on Jessie's door ~ but she said not to come around anymore
Woody tried to confess ~ Jess wasn't going to fall for his BS
Jessie slammed the door in his face ~ now Woody lives in total disgrace
Buzz and Jess are dating ~ Woody's in need of rehabilitating
An emperor spoke in poetic verse
Which led to fame for him at first
But after some time, it became a curse
For the Emperor had no prose.
Poetic measure determined his fate
The body politic could not relate
Leaving people in a befuddled state
Yes, the Emperor had no prose.
Seeking solutions from all his wise men
Beseeching them each, again and again
"When will poetic proclivity end?
For I'm the Emperor and have no prose!"
Long and hard, the wise men thought
With no answers to the solutions sought
So they hemmed and hawed, yelled, argued and fought,
Still, the Emperor had no prose.
The Emperor ended his quest in time
No cure for his affliction could he find
Relinquished the throne and became a mime
At least he was able to pose!
“You must love your neighbor as yourself.”
Matthew wrote those words in the Bible to tell
the world how God expects everyone to be.
No mask worn by a viper can conceal a snake
from the eyes of God, for he sees everything.
Don't accuse me of preaching damnation in fire,
because I don't believe in the flames of a hell.
Jesus was a preacher and I'm proud to walk in his way,
witnessing to those interested and filled with desire
to learn his Father's message and what he had to say.
Humans dare not judge each other. It's not their right.
Only God can read the hearts of men and he alone
is the rightful judge of those who do good and bad.
Those who think they are clever, pretending to be good
may be wolves dressed as sheep, hiding in plain sight.
They smile, pat you on the back, seemingly humble,
then bite your hand and lick the flesh from your bone.
The Apostles argued among themselves, they grumbled
which of them would be greater in wielding his power.
Jesus was saddened by their attitude but gently he spoke,
"This is not the way among you; but whoever wants
to become great among you must be your minister,
and whoever wants to be first must be your slave.” *
Contentiousness and egotism are enemies of humility
so look deep within and seek a spiritual brotherhood
with those crossing your path. We all have the ability
to walk in truth and light, making all things right.
*Matthew 20: 26-27
I saw fingers severed
with comically large scissors
and heads near severed
with an even larger pair,
or crimped stubbornly halfway.
I contemplated with some hurt
what I might have thought
to be my earliest loss,
and thrust myself headlong
into my first descent.
The darkest car I’d ever not seen
carried me effortlessly to my future
across snow and water at once,
in love with a girl I’d never met,
I think she loved me too.
Darkness enveloped me
in my vast empty room,
and I’d swear I killed a man
and dropped his lifeless reproach
in a dusty, uncertain old cupboard.
I wrestled the nasty black swan
and found my hero of the moment,
smaller and stranger
then I’d ever thought him to be,
and I swore to God it was him.
I dropped by the bank,
a hero of earlier moments
mirthfully gave me the gears,
as we argued the toss
he couldn’t help but have a giggle.
A giant came bearing down on me,
then went weepy and forlorn,
wailed about the love not known,
the city lights and the city streets
quietly frowned with dismay.
I stared down enemies unknown,
I was afraid and they were sure,
but I found a greater wrath,
I don’t think I killed any of them,
but I guess I probably should have.
And to this day, still not seen,
I don’t even know if it matters.
31st October 2018
Did you know that you were a doctor?
You healed my broken heart
Did you know that you were a gardener?
You removed the weeds from my garden
Did you know that you were a lawyer
You argued “our” case
Did you know that you were a fighter?
You fought for me and now I'm all yours
Did you know that you were a artist?
You painted a crimson red heart
right next mines
Did you know that you were created
just for me?
You are my friend, lover and soulmate
Dedicated to love
1-23-19
Alexis Y.
Roger Ebert~ "At The Movies"
Chicago Film Critic: Pulitzer Prize winner for Criticism.
Has a star in his name, at the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Passed away in 2013 A.D.
~~A Dedication to Roger Ebert~~
Ah, dear Roger! Gone but not forgotten.
Infinitely compassionate, warm and fun!
With you, and many Chicago journalists,
I was so very blessed to run.
You never were too big to come to my
humble home parties!
You brought your journalist friends, too.
When my daughter was just two, she
joyfully opened our front door for you.
Each New Years Eve, you rented a space
for your hundreds of friends,
With drink, food and overflowing
laughter.
Those days, Roger, I will remember and
cherish, today and forever after.
I daringly argued with you about your movie
critiques!
And yet...you were open to hearing the
ramblings from my mouth.
Till a deathly illness, took you painfully out!
But, of your endless virtues and genuine
humanity and creativity,
Of these, dearest Roger, I will eternally shout!
Love,
Panagiota
Panagiota Romios
4/1/2019
(In 1807, Beethoven wrote a piano/violin
piece. Tolstoy followed in 1890, with a novel.
He argued that matrimony can never work.)
What is a marriage? A fusion, or a tether?
Two very different creatures, yoked together?
I was a piano, you a violin:
I, solid, calming, you, discordant, thin,
and laced with bitterness. I was your base,
and you provided brio, flourish, grace.
A lacewing trapped inside a window frame,
yet driven by one blind, unchanging aim,
you struggled up until, played out, defeated,
you fluttered down again, debased, depleted.
A war's a love affair, and love's a war.
We're so inept - or what's a heaven for?
A nest of wasps, my grievances boiled over -
but could there ever be a vita nuova?
We never learned. I hammered pointlessly,
while you abraded. Why could we not see?
And so I played it stately, sad, no frills,
while you kept up your repetitions, trills
and variations. Hovering and wary,
you shunned my structures. Ever more contrary,
you coiled and squirmed in spasms both continuous,
spontaneous, free-wheeling, lithe and sinuous.
It seemed to me the harmony had gone:
we sang on, yes, but each a separate song.
Two butterflies together, intertwined,
we tangled on the same, but different, line.
For love comes not to shackle but set free
To allow strangers to know its splendor
When they find their bond is from heart's decree
A kiss from this love turns soft and tender
Hold not the argued edge to quell love's dream
Nor each sigh or tear kept along the way
In such a malady, love must redeem
And bow with a warm heart so love will stay
Though years passing move as forever still
The tightly held fingers will bind the hands
And hold the precious trust true love will fill
Through the days traveled love steadily commands
To reveal a keepsake a lover's scroll
Whose well-torn page was written by the soul
1/25/20
contest True Love Poetry contest
(In 1807, Beethoven wrote a piano/violin
piece with this title. Count Leo Tolstoy
followed in 1890, with a short novel of the
same name, in which he argued that
matrimony can never work.)
What is a marriage? A fusion, or a tether?
Two very different creatures, yoked together?
I was a piano, you a violin:
I, solid, calming, you, discordant, thin,
and laced with bitterness. I was your base,
and you provided brio, flourish, grace.
A lacewing trapped inside a window frame,
yet driven by one blind, unchanging aim,
you struggled up until, played out, defeated,
you fluttered down again, debased, depleted.
A war's a love affair, and love's a war.
We're so inept - or what's a heaven for?
A nest of wasps, my grievances boiled over -
but could there ever be a vita nuova?
We never learned. I hammered pointlessly,
while you abraded. Why could we not see?
And so I played it stately, sad, no frills,
while you kept up your repetitions, trills
and variations. Hovering and wary,
you shunned my structures. Ever more contrary,
you coiled and squirmed in spasms both continuous,
spontaneous, free-wheeling, lithe and sinuous.
It seemed to me the harmony had gone:
we sang on, yes, but each a separate song.
Two butterflies together, intertwined,
we tangled on the same, but different, line.
In a field that is claimed to be wasteland
only fed by the sun and the rain;
its dotted with a sprinkling of yellow
amongst the wild grasses again.
And the manicured lawns of the village
with the roses pruned into shape
will never be found in the wasteland
and don’t have the will to escape.
There’s a man who tenders this wasteland
and the villagers all disagreed
when he argued a case for himself
that the dandelion is not a weed.
Yes, dandelion is a humble herb
that provides us with salad and tea
it has flowers that mirror the sun
and draws in the wild honey bee.
When plants are missed in the harvest
or left for a season to grow
there is cotton like seed parachutes
drifting off as if dandelion snow.
If a parachute lands in a garden
and finally sprouts from its seed
not a villager can be convinced
that the dandelion is not a weed.
Yes, dandelion is a humble herb
that provides us with salad and tea
it has flowers that mirror the sun
and draws in the wild honey bee.
Being rich in mineral content
essential oils, and vitamins too
dandelion is kind to our bodies
a healer growing free to pursue.
As I reap my crop in the wasteland,
and only dig up what I do need
I’m happy I don’t need convincing
that the dandelion is not a weed.
https://s-media-cache- ak0.pinimg.com/236x/72/97/79/7297796a1920d9e3fb4a59ff6da498ab.jpg
Pin 4198: Disney Gallery - Alice in Wonderland Series (Baby Oyster)
Variations on The Walrus and the Carpenter" a narrative poem by Lewis Carroll that appeared in his book Through the Looking-Glass, published in December 1871.
OYSTERS
The tide was low the sun was high
The beach was long and very dry
The moon had argued it wanted to stay
But try as it might, could not get its way
The beach was dry and very long
Two figures came walking along
They wept as they went and quietly spoke
Of cockle shell boats rowed by gentle folk
With the sun high and tide so low
They could see where the oysters grow
The Walrus exclaimed I have a strong hunch
That we have found a delicacy for lunch
The beach was long and very dry
Dining under the open sky
The carpenter scraped butter on his bread
While saying those oysters looked over fed
The tide was low the sun was high
Hear me oysters he did descry
Come and join our party under the Sun
Where you will have lots of wonderful fun
The beach was dry and very long
The oysters came singing a song
La da dee we are happy as can be
We will party then go back to the sea
With the sun high and the tide so low
One oyster cried please do not go
But the other oysters were more sanguine
For the carpenter offered them some wine
The beach was long and very dry
There seemed to be nothing awry
The oysters sat and listened to tall tales
Of dragons and knights and ships in full sail
The tide was low the sun was high
Alas the oysters end was nigh
The Walrus said oysters do not decline
The carpenter and I shall start to dine
The beach was dry and very long
No more was sung the happy song
The walrus looked at the gentle sea swell
The carpenter held the last empty shell
Dedicated to my friends Mikki & The Queen of Ghali
Makers of the most wonderful magic
~Completed 22/04/2015~
In the fifties leaders told
an innocent trusting
populace
to duck and cover.
Years later they felt
so foolish
for the easy way
they let their fears
be strummed.
It had worked so well
that with ignorance
and forgetfulness that goes
with time,
and the arrogance that goes
with power,
and a populace drained
of will,
and hyped by televised fears,
many rushed out to buy
duct tape.
Now in a land
birthed in religious freedom
we argued over mosques
while desperate matters
are left unresolved.
Somewhere in this land
a jackass is braying.
Today is the first day of school
the summer too short at the pool
school days are long
this is so wrong
I think going to school isn’t cool
My father insists that I go
though I argued loud with a No
I squawk and squirm
I’m no bookworm
sure I know all there is to know
Dad threatened to kick me out
no matter my perfect pout
I’m no fool
went to school
now the classics I can spout
At university I excelled
never an instance was I expelled
got the knowledge
finished college
at graduation my Dad’s heart swelled
We called Jimmy strange; we teased him in play,
most of the time he'd laugh our cheek away.
We'd dare him to play pool; always loser pay!
So we played pool for nothing each day.
One night a stranger who did not understand,
called to the publican we all should be banned.
He took Jimmy's cue; he saw what's going on,
telling us what we’re doing to Jimmy is wrong.
The stranger was right, but Jimmy don't mind,
in his eyes we’re his friends; he saw us as kind.
The stranger exposed his friendship; Jimmy ran home.
We argued our point and left the stranger alone.
Late into that night, a tale of disbelief,
“Come down to the hotel for its full of grief.
Jimmy's locked in a room and somewhere he’s got
a gun that he’s fired. The stranger’s been shot!”
With the innocence lost of Jim’s simple mind.
If I’d turned my cheek and just stayed behind,
there’d still be the innocence. I’d have calmed Jimmy down.
Murder crushed out the life of my country town.
The law is in place; Jimmy can't understand.
Shouting in the hallway baffled him with demand.
Society must take to Jim where it all seems surreal.
This life he'll leave behind for one of bars of steel.
I stood at the doorway where Jim could hear my voice.
I called “Put the gun down. Jim there’s no other choice.”
Jim turned the key to let me through the door,
then I heard the blast and the thump on the floor.
With the innocence lost of Jim’s simple mind.
If I’d turned my cheek and just stayed behind,
there’d still be the innocence. I’d have calmed Jimmy down.
Suicide crushed out the life of my country town.