Best At Leisure Poems
When hard times come they sit a spell,
Like kin folk come to stay
A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids
That always get ‘n your way.
It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought,
There ain't much in-between.
You work like hell to make ’em good,
But still they’re sorta lean.
The ranch went under late last year,
The drought got mighty tough.
The boss held-out a long, long time,
But finally said, "enough!"
So here I am dispatchin’ cops
An’ watchin’ felons sleep,
In Junction, at the county jail,
A job I’ll prob’ly keep.
The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge,
Where older people stay,
A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors
To earn some ‘extra’ pay.
Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used,
It goes to payin’ rent,
An’ after all the bills are paid,
We wonder where it went.
We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps,
An' then our weddin' rings;
Then when we couldn't pay the loan,
They sold the 'dad-blamed' things.
We felt real bad a day or two
But then we let it go,
Cause it got Christmas for the kids
When money got real slow.
When hard times come they sit a spell,
Don't matter who you are;
They'll cost ya things you've set aside,
An' clean your cookie jar.
You'll loose some sleep an' worry some,
Won't pay to moan an' groan;
But hang on to your happiness,
They'll finally leave ya 'lone.
Sustained by the frequent spring showers
Adorned by rosettes of dark green
They burst into dense yellow flowers
The florets parading their sheen.
They sway to sensations of pleasure
The rhythmic allure of the breeze
Then rest in the evening at leisure,
Appear every day to increase.
But soon comes the time for reversal
The petals are destined to dry,
Then globules of seeds for dispersal
To nature’s intentions comply.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This poem merits to win for the simple reason that
dandelions are ill-treated and spoken of badly by
many people, little realizing the beauty and good points
which they have to share with us.
Placed 3rd in Richard Lamoureux's contest
© 12th April 2019
I’m looking to the sun searching for life’s answer
A truth starts to dawn, it could just feed me cancer
Still the moon’s mostly harmless, phasing away the night
Has a dark side too, that stays hidden in full light?
I know there’s darkness
upon my shoulder
I miss old flames
that used to smoulder
I feel sweat pour
and growing colder
I ache and shiver
under beads of solder
As for those shiny stars, twinkling in heavens high
Some are eons dead, still pulsing a white lie?
Our galaxy hoards them as supermassive treasure
Stuffed inside a black hole, that gorges at leisure
I won’t go nova
perhaps bipolar
I may lose my head
like a sniped soldier
I could love a god
not his mass controller
I will confess
the herd feels older
The cosmos gets younger the further out I look
Thirteen billion years of light, our connection took
On a large scale of nothing is how my mind thinks
The universe keeps growing, as its lifespan shrinks
I drag granite
upon a roller
I put my chisel
into the boulder
I sculpt an angel
but haven’t told her
she’s not my soul
just its beholder
My angel brings comfort, if not flattery
Helps to keep me grounded, in idolatry
If I was a god, my first commandment would be
Worship all those you love, and put them before me
By
David Kavanagh
A is for a**l
B is for balls
Share them or wear them
Tucked up in your smalls
C is for condoms
Of all shapes and sizes
D is for dicks
Made of chocolate for prizes
E is for enlarging erections
Oh wow!
F is for fig leaves
Worn you know how
G is for G string
Oooh very nice
H is for handcuffs
Double locked twice
I is for indecent
That sums it up
J is for juices
And not in a cup
K is for kinky
Whatever the weather
L is for lust, libido and leather
M is for mask, massage and minge
N is for naughty
Making me cringe
O is for oral
Taken at leisure
P is for pervert, ****, pimp and pleasure
Q is for quickie
If that is your need
R is for rampant rabbit
One you won't have to feed
S is for S and M
With shackles thrown in
T is for torture
Oh such a sin
U is for urinate
Some folk just love it
V is for vibrator
You know where to shove it
W is for whores, whips, willies and wellies
X is for x rated **** on your tellies
Y is for yeast
Well it does make bread rise!
And Z, well I'm f****d
So I'll say my goodbyes!
You named me your treasure
My worth? “Beyond measure!”
My presence: your pleasure,
to feast on at leisure
I believed you
You said, “You’re my flower!
Your passion’s my power!
My daily LOVE shower...
You scent every hour!"
I believed you
You said I’m your life!
Your amnesia for strife
The drug, "Ebullience: Rife"
The honey coating on knife
I believed you
You said, “You’re my dream
Cherry pie PLUS the cream
My SEXY Extreme!
In the desert, the stream"
I believed you…
You said I’m your muse
I champion your blues
My kisses: life’s clues
on how to win and not lose
I believed you
You said, but I bled
Your words? They’re all dead!
Their ghosts haunting my head
When alone in my bed
I curse...all...you... SAID!
Jade
Tea Party For Four
Two girls partake of afternoon tea
Under willow trees and pleasant weather
Dolly’s join them, splendid gowns, sentry ready
Social graces with porcelain clean white faces
Sit, side by side, chaperoning quietly
While princess détente takes place
Young ladies soak orange pekoe leaves
Savor the hot flavor afterwards
Sip it warm at leisure through the day
At party pleasure and perfect play
Nuclear proliferation weighs heavy on their minds
As well as gun violence and big people crimes
Still, they prefer cup cakes with icing
The two dollies do too
I'm blessed beyond measure
God gave me a treasure...
a daughter, in whom I delight
Her smile, such a pleasure,
though I'm not at leisure
to hug her, she sleeps through the night
From the moment I wake
Were it not for her sake
I'd not care if life were to end
But I know when I ache
When I feel I might break
Her love, my sweet angel will send
When my daughter was small
How her eyes would enthrall
Her laughter, a melody sweet
A few tears when she'd fall
I would gather them all
And trade each of them for a treat
How I wish I could spare
Every sigh, every care
And grant her the best of this life
To protect her, I swear
And I pray I'll be there
When she takes the role of a wife
Her heart senses the pain
You won't weather disdain
If she feels you're not being true
In the sunshine or rain
Her commitment won't wane
She gives to each one a just due
She loves music and arts
How with joy she imparts
Such beauty to what she creates
When my girl starts sing
How my soul takes to wing
Alighting at heavenly gates
Though these words cannot do
Coming years will prove true
The strength of my motherly love
In the storms she goes through
I will paint her skies blue
For she is my gift from above
For Shereen Natalie Ghali
March 6, 2020
In the ripened wheat field, they safely gather together,
those poetic birds of a feather where peace now exists
No nimbus clouds overhead, threatening stormy weather
and no more blustery thunder roaring in bigoted trysts
It's now a pleasant oasis where comments are safe to drink
No camel riders disturbing the calm like a pack of marauders
Serenity is palpable without the rude disruption and the stink
of instigators trying to elicit a response... provoking prodders
Crows no longer take wing there with loud raucous caws
since the scarecrow lost his cool and had a total meltdown
To the sound of trills, there's no sight of sharpened claws
It's peaceful in the field these days. No one wears a frown.
It's a sanctuary of sorts where no weapons are allowed
and calm is the river that gently flows beneath the bridge
where subversives waylaid unsuspecting ones in a crowd
That kind of ill behavior is not missed, not even a smidge
We've all heard about the changes that would come along
Now, that time has finally arrived to be enjoyed at leisure
The site is more pleasant without the same old singsong
Sincere comments often given and taken in equal measure
It may not meet the qualifications to be a Garden of Eden
but as an In-A-Gadda-Da-Vidah? Perhaps it would qualify
since there are no pens used to cause anyone's bleedin'
and no one has been bitten or stung by an Iron Butterfly
Ten years passed Maa, you left this world leaving me alone
but still I feel your presence, your tender touch, quietly lying in bed, I moan.
Always you were concerned, who will take care of me in your absence
today none is there to worry for me, in their lives, I have no importance.
Still I find myself holding your coffin, sitting by your lifeless body, on that ill-fated day,
I touched your hands and feet, cold as ice, unable to come out of dismay.
A heavenly peace on your face, comfortably sleeping, from all worldly sufferings you were away.
I cried, but never could wake you up, couldn't believe your sweet face could ever decay.
Sometimes, at leisure when I look at the sky on a peaceful night,
Sitting in my 'Hanging Garden on a lonely night beneath the serene moonlight,
I can hear your melodious voice, the songs you sang for me
Those priceless moments we spent together, lying on our terrace amidst
Shiuli, Jasmine and Hasnahana tree.
I was a teenager, blooming to be a beautiful young girl, bidding my childhood adieu,
You were proud of my beauty and talents, I was lucky to inherit from you.
You dressed me up beautifully each time I celebrated my auspicious days
You made me feel I'm the most gorgeous girl, confident in your praise.
Our children were brought up in your love and care
You once again proved to be a great grandmother.
You taught them how to live life in faith and prayer
always been pious and a true God lover.
You are the best mother ever I have met, a blessing from above
A Godly image of sacrifice, benevolence and abundance of love.
I've ne'er seen a greater animal lover, flowing water of love from a ceaseless cascade.
I've seen you taking care of sick kith and kin in their last days
Forgiving the evil they unleashed on you, you nursed them with a smiling face.
I salute your virtue of forgiveness and the Spirit of caring for your enemies,
I believe you're enjoying with our Lord in Heaven
dwelling with angels and heavenly bodies!
A cute and cozy cubicle
No lock on the door
All can enter and visit me--
and my many selves
Many come and go at leisure
noticing aspects and facets of me
and in turn see themselves better.
Even the poet within themselves;
as it is hard for a poet to be just one
person. And in poem writing one can
visit anywhere and have anyone come to visit.
And one can be whomever they choose to be.
Such lofty thoughts in the tiny room painted white
with a breeze coming through the blinds on a balmy day.
The sun was high in the sky, so hot, so unbearable
as the heat bares down, making life, unlivable.
A walk in the woods amongst the trees
tall waving branches makes a cooling breeze
Mystical noises erode from above
like squawking parrots, making love
The leaves flutter to earth slowly at leisure,
drying to a crunch making walking a pleasure.
Your never alone as you walk these woods,
ghosts of yesteryears would show if they could.
Instead they guide you along the paths of delight
your face lighting up as you see the sight.
Of butterflies gathered a hundred or more,
wings gently beating cooling their core.
Making a myriad of colour to please the soul
They are the flowers of the forest making you whole
The birds with their splendrous songs of life.
Not always in key their sounds easing your strife
Dont forget the tiny dormouse under the trees
looking for nuts and seeds, hunger to ease.
Find a grass covered mound, sit down ease your feet,
Close your eyes, listen to life from the drivers seat.
Your body is the forest, birds your ears, a tumultuous sound
Your eyes are the butterflies, life, the leaves falling around.
Thinking of these things help keeps your life in control
When life is hard, look within, look to your soul.
Take a walk in the Woods.
Penned 3rd September 2013.
Contest : Caleb Smith - In the Woods.
Ripples of blue and silver dance
impala males jump and prance
In a land where imagination roams to and fro
and the waters of old eb and flows
Dust holds memories from near and far
The sky, escarpment, and water beat out a rhythm of
The dreams of many, the thoughts of a few,
ZAMBEZI, O MIGHT OF THE SOUTHERN HINTER LANDS OF AFRICA
GIVING AND TAKING. YOUR PRIDE IN LIFE IS LIVED
YOUR COURSE DIRECTED BY THE THINGER OF THE MASTER DESIGNER
FORCE AND STRENGTH BOW BEFORE HIS MIGHTY HAND
Deep is the current and long is the stride of Him who taught you as a child O ZAMBEZI,
where your banks and streams will go.
Were you there at the beginning?
To see His plan, hear His words, savor His counsel.
Take heed to give life as He has given you so much life.
The sound of life echoes long and hard through this valley below the falls and the open sea.
Elephants, hippos, and lions create and compose an elegant cacophony.
Animals play on the banks,Birds dance on the wind.
The escapement sits and watches. Ever still, but never stagnate
Mana Pools, place of meaning. Where water parted mountains a mellinia ago.
Escarpments looking north and south, watching, waiting, guarding.
Life here moves at leisure, no race.
The life of hustle and bustle has no place.
In a way, even time and space seem pleasantly married together
So whether you a travel from far or near, they meet you and greet you and treat you.
Here on the flood plains.
Where a recollection of memories are locked away in the safe of sentimentally.
To a feast of the soul, spirit, mind, and body.
Where you can relax and let worry be forgotten.
Come online with me, at leisure,
And let’s surf on the Internet.
Like Faustus we shall share pleasure,
Of those websites, dot.com, dot.net.
We’ll log in to desired chat room,
To know how cyber shepherds talk,
Chat, messengers will help us roam,
To each nook and corner to stalk.
We shall hear the choicest songs,
Shall create our own utopia,
We shall create our own web sites,
Shall never face dystopia.
If these delights do make you move,
Come to me soon and be my love.
========================================
Parody of Christopher Marlowe’s poem A passionate Shepherd to his Beloved
In Iambic meter with Rhyme Scheme: abab cdcd efef gg
=========================
Dr. Ram Mehta
Fifth Place win in:
Contest: Your (Own) Choice poem by P.D.
The poem is published in:
http://www.boloji.com/writers/rammehta.htm
www.sonatapub.com
what made her unworthy of love
was it because she couldn't live up to your ideal
that she lost her appeal?
You lived for the surreal
now too numb to feel
Tell me, what was the deal?
what made her fall from grace
was it sun spots on her face
her flannel instead of lace
her slower than youthful pace?
Was that why she lost
her pedestaled place?
Do you look at her and see
something other than beauty?
Is she flabby instead of firm
militant instead of meek
the lurid side of lovely
tell me!
what could it be?
when did she go
from pleasure treasure
to discarded at leisure
What was the measure
of your detestable displeasure?
let's me be clear:
"love is in the eye of the beholder"
Here's a tap on your shoulder
instead of a fist in your face
I won't add to the disgrace
yet your problem prevails
it's in the details:
you're beholder beholden
to your own foolish fantasy
of what your woman should be
what you can't see
is just what makes others all agree:
SHE'S A Bountiful BEAUTY!
Her body and soul
every part of the whole
exquisitely enhanced
by the years and by chance
she deserves desire's delirious dotage
not apathetic apathy
Can't you see?
maybe....
maybe you are the one
not deserving to decree
her worth, her esteem
she's gone now
go dream
scream
try to serve up a scheme
to love her up to extreme
She won't fall again!
that is true!
You see, dear
The problem, the problem
is
YOU!
Eileen Manassian
Went up into the attic,
Espied a load of junk.
Thought I'd have a car boot sale,
Before we did a bunk.
Piled it all into the car,
Glad I wasn't going far.
Springs were groaning with the weight,
Wondered if I would make the gate.
Table up and boot wide open too,
All our junk soon put on view.
Folk came and looked and made a bid,
Refusing nowt, I made a few quid.
My pocket filled up as my stock dwindled down,
Decided then to have a look round.
An "antique" globe under a table hid,
I snatched it up for a couple of quid.
Then a lovely framed picture caught my eye,
Look nice in my study, another good buy.
Some tools I saw that I hadn't got,
All in a big box so I bought the lot.
Now them paint brushes looked just the job.
Got the full set "new" for a couple of bob.
I'll have that guitar though I don't play,
Give me something to learn on a rainy day.
As the Boot came to a close,
I looked at all the stuff I had chose.
There was more going home,than I'd took out,
My sanity at boot sales leaves room for doubt.
But to some its junk to dump at leisure.
To other folk it is wonderful treasure.
© Dave Timperley 04/10/ 2018