Best Balk Poems
A cacophony of cats in my life.
Not one or two, but fifteen!
Each,who along with joy,
brought sadness and strife!
All shapes and sizes with grand
and most loving personalities.
The Maine Koone was the smallest
of all.
Maxine was pedigreed and came
home as a present for my daughter
as a surprise, one fall.
My oldest cat,Luvey,lived to be
a sprightly twenty years old!
A tortoiseshell petite cat,fun and
a loving, furry,cloud to hold.
Kelly came next, a handsome red tabby.
A happy, mellow fellow who pranced
with such grace!
He really was happy and snazzy.
Lucey came later, a Ragdoll prize of a cat,
about to be put down!
I fought and won to stop her date with an
imminent death showdown!
I have 15 wooden boxes that have their
cremains..
Each box carved, beloved,and my
housecoat with lost cat tear stains.
I fed them fluids by IV,medications food,
on a special stand.
And countless nights in emergency vet
rooms, wringing my hopeless hands.
My last cat, Luvey lost her ability to see
and walk.
I placed her in a wheelchair and moved
her about.
For I am not one when faced with a challenge,
to balk!
I can't list all their names of how
fun and charming they were.
Just know, that I think of myself as a cat..
Minus the fur!
.........................................
* I do know how to spell the correct name of the
word after breed. It comes out as Maine ****.
Sorry I was unable to use the correct spelling.
She was a regal cat, deserving of her correct
breed name and feline heritage.
October 7,2019
9:30am PST
Animal: cat
A Rhyme About Your Favorite Pet
Regina Riddle
The American Dream is dead indeed
A victim of American Greed
Trickle down they said we’d try
Then proceeded to suck us dry
The One Percent seeking thrills
Living large in Beverly Hills
Paying minimum wage even though it kills
And the middle class can’t pay their bills
Infinite growth is just a dream
Some would call it a Ponzie Scheme
Leveraged living by the way
Selling tomorrow to pay for today
On this you surely can depend
Certain destruction in the end
Time will pass it’s always the same
Just the same old political game
Some other fool will take the blame
Absolving us of our Great Shame
As always the best government money can buy
Politicians ready and eager to comply
Super PACS no need to balk
The Supreme Court ruled money talks
Citizens United paved the way
Now Plutocrats will have their sway
Most will suffer a few will play
But in the end we all will pay
The greedy deeds of Kleptocrats
Both Republicans and Democrats
Business as usual the same old malarkey
Democracy taking us to Oligarchy
But be of stout heart and have no fear
Climate change is already here
And in the end it will be clear
Sooner or later we’ll all disappear
I volunteered in a soup kitchen to help the needy;
the homeless and the lonely, the addicts and the seedy.
For me in the kitchen, it was a place to socialize,
while I was helping out with many others doing likewise.
Susie James who is a single girl had trouble finding work.
Susie volunteers her time so, she is not one who will shirk,
helping out and giving smiles when handing out the soup,
and so becoming well respected in amongst our group.
Alas Susie admitted, with some sorrow in her voice,
when it comes to men she is forever making a wrong choice.
Susie explained that men she’s drawn too always have to lie,
for they are either married or have partners that is why.
So when a young man unbeknown has entered to assist,
Susie’s eyes were roving and she just could not resist,
to call this handsome man across to us and he didn’t balk,
and I heard the conversation as the pair of them did talk.
The first thing Susie asked him; “Are you a married man?”
“Not in the eyes of man”, he said, when answering dead pan.
‘So this man’s not married’, Susie smiled. ‘That’s a start at least’.
“Do you work?” And he replied, “Oh yes, I am a priest”.
Cats don't like going to the vet,
In fact, they can get quite upset.
Somehow they just know,
When the crate makes a show,
They instantly begin to fret.
First they'll hide under the bed.
Getting them out fills us with dread.
They'll scratch and they'll bite,
And put up a fight.
Wish we could tranquilize them instead.
In the car they'll meow and cry,
Sounding like their going to die.
In the office they'll balk,
And no treat or sweet talk,
Will make them willing to comply.
Of course the vet knows what to do,
And after an exam and a shot, too,
They'll run into their crate.
Going home is so great,
We can't help but shout Yahoo!
7/31/21
Thou lay'st like a rose on deaths pillow
Silent and still, unsoothed by lifes request
Asleep the dawns and days of all and all
Eternity. My lovely Juliet
Wherefore art thou companions company?
Dost thou mockest life? "O my love, my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty"
Knows't not you of these intense tears that grow
Onto your soil a river of a kind
Thou body blooms, unscarr'd from cheek to bone
Thus trees and rivers art jealous of thine scent
But be it may thy mouth will ne'er move
Upon itself to echoe, Romeo!
Nay life will ne'er become a friend in hand
And I to life a friend, nay, I think not
The sun and moon shalln't make for watching eyes
To view me with life and not with thee, my love
Thyself I say art bandy with thyself
Yet man of all, I'm troubled at thy race
'Twas not the serpent that reward Eve bale?
And God created man, and bale is man
For in our families doth men collide
To often foredo every innocent thing
With swords where-in great morning and lights night
Tis fineless feuds our families perform
What bravery to birth our tragedy!
I balk that flesh is where abodements lay
O wife, I canst o'er-crow life in thine distance
May I afront death as thy hath approach'd?
Perchance I die with drink. Ay, there's the rub!
No time to fettle, ay, at once death come
Into my life as I drink thee in full
Slowly thy soul escapes. Thou art foredone
Soon to bewray thyself with waiting wife
Romeo and Juliet; How tragic is love
7-8-11
We learn to sit and then to crawl
Because our view is just too small.
From crawling next we start to walk;
Confinements only make us balk.
Once we can walk, we learn to run;
Our exploration has begun
And once adulthood is unfurled,
We head on out to see the world.
The years flash by; our running days
Return us to a former phase.
Again we walk, with waning pep,
Reverting to a slower step.
We skip the crawl but soon see fit
To find a cozy place to sit
And once we’re settled in a seat,
We know life’s circle is complete.
Once upon a time and place,
There lived a princess fair of face.
She was searching for a prince to wed,
One of noble character bred.
Many a fine tear she had shed,
When each prince came up lacking.
One day as she went for a stroll,
She came upon a grassy knoll,
Beside a quiet pond, and saw a fallen log.
She sat down and began to weep,
Her sorrow running oh so deep,
At failing to find a noble prince to share her life.
"Princess fair, why do you weep?"
Asked a voice so rich and deep.
Surprised the princess looked around,
And spied a frog upon the ground.
"Good frog, did you speak to me?"
The frog replied, "I did indeed."
"A princess so fair as you,
Should never have to feel so blue.
Please tell me what your trouble is,
Perhaps I can be of help to you."
"I've been searching for a prince to wed,
One of noble character bred, but all have
been sadly lacking."
The frog hopped from the ground to log,
And said, "Princess, what I have to say will be a shock.
You see, I'm not really just a lowly frog.
I was once a handsome prince of noble character bred,
Until a hateful witch I tried to vanquish,
Put a curse on me instead."
"The curse is that a frog I'll always be,
Only a maiden's kiss will set me free.
So if you're willing to place a kiss,
Upon my ugly froggy lips,
A prince again will I then be,
And both our dreams will become reality."
The princess hesitated just a bit.
His tale sounded so far fetched.
But then again, frogs didn't talk,
And this one could, so she didn't balk.
She bent down, closed her eyes and kissed him.
In a flash a handsome prince appeared,
finally freed from frog's disguise.
No longer did this princess sing the blues,
She'd found her prince and at the news,
All the kingdom celebrated.
Everyone was so elated.
The prince and princess soon were wed,
And together they raised chilldren of noble
character bred.
Entered into Carol Eastman's story poem contest
Jesus…
When you said,
“Take up your cross, and follow me?”
What did you mean, Jesus?
What did you mean?
That cross…that I have to bear…
It seems too heavy for me
I’m crushed under the load
Weighed down…
Suffocating….
Unable to breathe
Much less move
I can hardly carry myself around, Jesus
And now I must carry it as well?
What is that cross, Jesus?
Are you sure I can bear it?
Is it the cross of self-denial?
It is my crucified pride?
My unruly desires?
My self-indulgent will?
My selfish dreams?
Jesus, is it that love
That threatens to consume me
Is it that love
That cannot…that SHOULD not be mine
That you want me to crucify
On this cross
That you want me to bear?
Remember, Jesus
Remember, Lord…
Please, remember
That I am weak
I’m only human
Fragile
Frail
Doubtful
Afraid
Most of all unwilling...
Jesus...
I balk at the pain I must endure
But….I know
I KNOW….
You can help me carry this cross
For you carried a much bigger one
That had nailed on it
All my insecurities and pain
Right along with your bleeding hands
That covered those sins
And washed them in red and made them
Whiter…much whiter than snow
Jesus…help me bear it
This cross is too heavy for my frail shoulders
Please, hold me in your embrace
Secure me…
Cover me with your strong arms
Let your shoulders bear the weight
Once again….
As you carry this cross..
My cross
For me.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Glancing down from breathless heights,
Amidst climey sighs,
The looming colossus awakens from slumber
And stretches across Thelwalls linear skies.
The hot engines hissing steam -
Recalled from fond memories long back -
Tumbling like huffing little rain clouds
Down from the lofty metal track;
Wherein brightly painted carriages:
The publicans daughter, the verger,
The magistrate, the chief executive -
Seated first class, all habitually sat.
Swift grandiose arches, a celebration
Trumpeting the artful masons cunning devise,
Boast loudly of the great towers
Parallelogram of terrific forces:
Crossing over in giant leaping strides.
Here below, like Hercules reclining,
The stoic gates of Latchfords black fortress locks
Lift to brace against the immense swell
Far and beyond the chimming remarks
Of Greenhalls absolute, mechanically proven,
Georgian bell;
When, ensconced within a purpose-built,
Purple brick tower:
Strikes the centuries old brewery clock
On the twelfth
Of every God given hour.
A rich bankers cantilever
Pushes doggedly against opposing, sheer,
Red Sandstone walls;
Again the mauve and azure rock pigeon claps...
And then...coo, coo, cooingly calls.
Dry buzzing heat blurs over
The hum of a high noons imcumbent midday;
The coup-de-gras scimitar wing stoops -
To fasten onto its slower-witted prey!
Steeped sides slipping amidst tumbling yellow
Gorse and sporadic flowers
Balk at the foreboding waters edge,
Where, over the denizens swirling bowers,
The resolute little rusting lugger,
Puffing and chugging,
relentlessly dredges and scours;
Churning the murky Eastham silts
That drab Manchester draw:
Into the vast hollowing quays
On beachless, concrete Salfords industrialized,
High-rise dockland shore.
Through the deepest part of the black
Channel
A salt grimed hulk smoothly slips...
Attached by a twisted hemp to the tugboat
That hauls the great ships.
Stirred by the bow waves
Flowing and ebbing like currents in time:
From the trough to the peak
The jettison and flotsam climbs -
Before succumbing to powerful undercurrents
Of irresistible designs!
There was a time when you could hold me
But I have since learned to walk
Another when thoughts seemed to cage me
Now digital is a relational talk
Imagine unique ways to display yourself
Try and shun what they will balk
Stand in the places outside of yourself
Let your mind free you as a falk
"Ain't got no prairie fire worries,"
Bob says to Little Zeke
"Lessen we gits some whar with grass"
And he kicked his horse in the ribs as they entered the pass
A week later they found grass
The cattle were starting to get weak
Samuel called a hault
And all enjoyed the two day break
Renewed the drovers and cattle stepped out refreshed
Two days later the Platt River again came into view.
The leader she began to balk
Samuel put a rope on her and Gabe gave her a whack
As they reached the other side
Some riders topped a ridge
Everyone threw their hats in the air
And holler "Here we is"
Samuel entered the bunkhouse
And to the window he did strole
He looked at the beautiful land
Bowed his head and said "Amen"
Cile Beer
August 17,2010
"Mothers" - A Conversation with a Daughter
In my 60th year I came to the conclusion that women are gods in their own right. Children worship and fear the power that pulses through their own blood to pin point in a waiting heart, along that road we all journey, happy or sad, just exactly where home is;
and if there is anything to be said of the strength mothers bare in victory or failure, it is this,
we are the echo of our own mother’s dreams, good and bad, and that life never ends at all - the door is always open, take that as you will. Whether we balk at the chance to confront ourselves through what waits on the other side of that door, or we rush through to embrace –
the opening always begins through an entrance -
and that, our mothers bore the pain to let us in, is the hidden key.
You could say, you love or hate your mother.
You could say, you believe or disbelieve your mother.
Mothers are not far from God. Nor that different.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Never Ending Love
Born in a cold basement on Valentine’s Day,
She grew up on newspaper and constant radio play.
She was the runt of the litter and very poorly fed,
When I first laid eyes on her, she looked to be half dead.
But I saw a bright spark, a twinkle in her eye,
She was perfectly imperfect, I could not deny.
Her pure white face with the odd brown polka dot,
Her overbite and broad chest, I loved her on the spot.
At first I felt I had to save this precious little thing,
Later I would realize, it was her who made my heart sing.
She greets every visitor with enthusiasm and glee,
Her kind and gentle nature is so evident to see.
I had planned to get a dog to take on a daily walk,
But exercise is something she has a tendency to balk.
She will play real hard pulling a rope for a minute or two,
Then flop down on the floor to sleep, as if right on cue.
She walks rather slow so I have nick-named her Doodle,
But she outshines any dog from a Great dane to a poodle,
Her innocence is reflected in her stoic face so sad,
She never changes her look, even when she has been bad.
Frankie my English bulldog has been my constant friend,
She supported me unconditionally when my job was at its end,
Then I lost my Mom and my daughter moved away,
Frankie gave me love and at my side she would stay.
I am so grateful that I found this most precious gift,
For that little twinkle in her eye has given me a true lift
Oh I love Frankie my English Bulldog she is the greatest pet,
Her never ending love is the most that one could ever get.
Contest: Pick A Pet Contest
Date: July 3, 2011
Won Honourable Mention
It seems the ring so sparkly, caught the eye
of some observer, stopping in to talk
the time I took to pray, no more a balk
about God's reason, yet I knew the walk!
The ring was gone ~ the visitor's compel
was just to steal my precious place of tell
engagement has a message, not a spell,
the years were growing on ~ the friendship . . knell!
I kept the rock for every venture then
and still had faith, that God would feel my yen
and finally God spoke ~ a "go there" call
the rock and I complied ~ just leave it all!
In kindness, in that interlude's recall
God spoke ~ "Someday, the rock will also go"
He meant, the pain and hardship, reconcile
to serving in whole Faith ~ no regret, well!
My new encounter ~ challenges e'er mount
'til one day, just a rock, I felt a swell
and to the River I now went, walking with pride
and tossed the Rock ~ so lifeless ~ hearing tide!
Ker-plunk ~ and waves that came to meet my eye
God had his reason ~ for my life's comply
in that same spot ~ Missouri River bend
would meet and love, and love ~ again, again!
No more the reckless yearning of the Soul
the sunrise had tomorrow, a new goal
how awesome is the power God gives to Love
and from His giving ~ leadership acquit!
Each term relationship ~ wanting to fit
to that resolving Glory . . . true love's writ!
Note ~ A true story ~ In that same spot, years later, I would write and format
the cover for a book of Poetry ~ "Praying Love" ~ of which many of my poems
are on this Website. Paula (Read)
Meet me back on those effervescent days;
Let’s swing on shafts of their lingering light,
Like our childhood hero in vine-borne flight,
Till we’re again in that sun-swaddled place,
Where once we were colts free to roam and race,
On meadows with dews of innocence bright,
And friendship’s rainbow arching every sight,
Before we were called to the adults’ maze.
Let us leap across the years, my dear friend;
Though our bodies may balk, our minds are lithe.
On the playground of our youth we shall land,
Where birds still kiss the sky, stingless bees hive,
And our mischief roiled through a drowsy glen
Whose slumber still our laughing echoes rive.