Best Barrister Poems
" I Smote Thy Heart"
by~ Richard Pickett
Upon the morrow, I shall take aim
with this slender feathered shaft at the heart of thee,
it shall pierce thee in the coldest of manners. Thou shalt
know from whence it came. From my sorrow, said sorrow
left upon me by the daggers of thy withered soul.
Beguiled by thy mask of innocence,that thee wore
as brilliantly as the Barrister, pleading before the magistrate.
Thou shalt plead mercy of passion, I once possessed only for thee,
that I remove the bolt from thy heart. Yet... I shall smite thee,till
thy blood runs as cold as the stone upon whence thy lie.
by~ Poet Destroyer
Strike on whom my ears deceive,
your sadness pierce ye 3 times therefore.
Straight liketh dagger of dragon teeth under thy heart.
A grace alone thou sprouted in remoteness ways.
If it ware not thy heart, ye fancy, into thy face
I have besidis all thy pain
No thing to want if it ware not Mad
Hold on to all things even as ye see, in every angle.
Nothing doth matter; thy aim shall endeth all sorrow
I have founded but makis me happiest thou ever was,
Thou shall not beggeth, taketh the dagger
Now thou its to late, smote thee very slowly
Thee hath my heart in deep shallow waters ;
Bloody lips do what ye list and dredge thee not
Smote thy heart, I care not,
Love whom ye forget, my sweet innocence.
Wherefore I pray mercy or shall not.
But love whom ye fear no God,
Do what must,
My tears shed thousands of grains of sand.
Morrow, will soon cometh, shall I hold
as you taketh away, from your
~ Femme' Fatal ~
A collaboration with * Richard Pickett
A barrister tottering through alleys of London,
Alcohol-shamed when espied;
Slinking home at four in the morning,
To a pillow of tears never dried.
Sidney Carton's the wretch whom others denounce,
He groans at his puffy, ruined face in the mirror;
Daring not to yearn for dreams long abandoned,
Departed down whiskey-dulled rivers.
Still from eye's corner notes he the resemblance
To erstwhile hero, Charles Darnay:
That dashing Frenchman who's captured the heart
Of the woman for whom Carton secretly prays.
So, milking that resemblance for all it is worth,
Carton offers up his life, brutish and mean,
Inserting his own head, instead of Darnay's,
'Neath the knife of 'Madame Guillotine.'
When sure of morality down here on Earth,
We suddenly uncover confusion,
Villains prove heroes and heroes mere villains:
Is Certainty but an Illusion?
I was reminiscing the other day about people I've known o'er the years,
And found it strange that their names corresponded with their careers.
For instance, Joseph Carpenter was handy with hammer, nails and saw.
Clyde Barrister, famed ambulance chaser, successfully practiced law!
Art Paynter, dabbled in pornographic oils and is now confined in prison.
My dentist, Whitey Capps, takes care of my choppers as if they were his'n.
A neighbor, Semmi Riggs, is a long-haul trucker and is on the road a lot.
He married a classmate of mine, Tipsy Toper, renowned as the village sot!
An old army buddy, Hank Roper, is a cowpoke and rides the rodeo scene.
An old girl friend of mine, Freda Flick, is now starring on the silver screen.
The town ne'er-do-well, Don Heller, got religion and became a preacher.
His brother Bob (known as stuttering Bob) became an English teacher!
Willie Wrench turned out to be one of the finest Buick mechanics around,
And his wife Lila (nee Leak) is a plumber and none better is to be found.
Cyrus Cloud is working for the National Weather Service as a meteorologist,
And I hear that Buddy Butts has a thriving practice as a famed proctologist!
Frenchie Horne has his own band and I see him on the boob tube now and again.
An old pal, Gilbert Graves, is the village undertaker located at Fifth and Main.
Was it intentional or fickle fate that wedded these names to their vocation?
I reckon in a sense 'twas both due to a struggling bard's wild imagination!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
The Dignity Of It All
Don’t look me in the eye
Don’t look at me and sigh
Or shake your head and wonder why
As I walk along the street
Ensuring our eyes never meet
I frown, and look down at my feet
A mere and simple cleaner
Don’t laugh at my demeanour
Don’t be sad, for there are no keener
No barrister am I
No educated guy
Don’t look me in the eye!
That dirty, menial task
Which for nobody would ask
(Nor do I behind this subtle mask)
I pick your rubbish of the floor
While you hurry through the door
Who am I to ask for more?
But if you gave another look
You’d surely bring yourself to book
For my “lack of pride” you’ve sure mistook
I may clean up all your dregs
But I’m not one who begs
Not while I can stand on my own two legs
Don’t think that it’s a pity
As you travel through the city
Don’t dare question my dignity!
For you see I’m very proud
Of that I’d shout aloud
Above the heads of any crowd
Because, in my mind, I guess
Somebody must clean up your mess
Though it’s me I am no less
An honest person - just like you
Who takes pride in what they do
(Is there a moral in here too?)
Don’t look me in the eye
We just can’t see eye to eye
As I pick up your junk and sigh.
DIAMOND DUST DEVIL
1169 Dominion...
A dark world lives beyond Orion.
This world is within an alien moon.
On its stable ground, stands a murder of mentality and childhood.
As babies are born, the mammoth scions brain from the dead.
The child life has been prepared.
The countryside is where he reclines.
He sits in his study analyzing his crimes.
He states to himself, deep in thought, “I am creating a world of great power.
My ancestors did not do this way. They only developed a twisted mentality.
Today, I cultivate identities.”
He is a tall and handsome man.
He is well spoken.
As a barrister, he is at the top of his game.
He walks with the same
who do not know they are creations of his sentiment.
His name is Emartra Van Doyle.
He is the “descendant of Dubhghall.”
Anglicization of the Irish
His disambiguation was superlative.
He is the origin of the Vikings.
His days in the world are yet to end.
There has been much darkness to manifest from him.
His balls were costume dramatic.
He lived in phantasm.
Hiberno-Normans balled with him.
The dark and epicaricacy history of Ireland is where Emartra Van Doyle thrives.
Well written via the imagination and deep in the mind, is a sphere of influence,
which cultivates perilous times.
A reverie aspirated.
Cross my heart and hope to die, if I am telling a lie.
S[k]at!
______________________________________________|
Sponsor: SKAT A
Contest Name: Diamond Dust Devil
Limerick : Once a pregnant Teen saw a Barrister
Once a pregnant Teen saw a Barrister
Thought she recognised the future Father
So she set him a trap
He rushed into her lap
Now she’s stuck with Twins, says Solicitor.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Limericks crochetés : Once a Bar Student in the fifties
Once a Bar Student in the fifties
Hoped to finish quickly his law studies:
Some students tipped him off
Pass-list clerk Good Enough
Will shift around marks for Five Guineas!
One late Singh Bar-at-Law, Seremban
Took finals with student Wei Ni Shan:
May nineteen-fifty six
Trinity exam fix:
Who was called to the Bar if not Shan?
Said Singh: “Week before results are known
At Council of Legal Sovereign Crown:
In open envelope
Put five guineas like dope:
Clerk will to refectory come down.”
Now Singh had booked his return passage
His fee reached clerk by special message:
“What! Only five guineas?”
Wei Ni Shan made much pleas.
“Once on Pass List give more to assuage!”
For decades choice invitee at bars
Was you know who: O! Do-good-er woes!
Look up or down: East-West
Never at him in jest:
Think: all the good he did to Yahoos!
Wei Ni Shan twice went to refectory
Early one morning at nine-thirty:
Saw West and East Indians
All shot-up onions:
Drop their envelopes in mail-rack tree!
Mister Do-Good-er was good enough
The hundreds of lives not to think of
All over Empire
Famished straits all dire
Waiting for Barrister to lift off !
When empires crumble on last legs
Old Masters then hatch sly loaded eggs
Ensuring level best
Way to scuttle the rest:
Yahoos make enslaved Houyhnhnm dregs !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
What the Butler Heard
Extract from a memoir
Lord Illustrious Penge of Lampwicker Hall,
Welcomed local Toffs, to his Name-Dropper ball.
Noses upturned with a touch of conceit,
Hob-Knobbing with gentry and gentleman elite.
Colonel recalled, his luncheon with Churchill,
Discussing backbenchers and a new Commons bill.
Shooting down Stukas, Captains claim to fame
“We had no choice Sir, Hitler started the game”
Lady Bell and I, champion ballroom dance,
After meeting Fred Astaire, purely by chance.
I worked with Crosby, taught him to Croon,
Just as well really, he couldn’t sing in tune.
Rupert went to school with Dame Vera Lynn,
and starred in a war film with Anthony Quinn.
Mortenson served, in old Atlee’s Cabinet,
Roberta was a Barrister when they first met.
Bradman hit this Six, into the members stand,
Luckily, I caught it, stretching out one hand.
I got a hole in one, on the sixth at Upper Plumb,
Sir Monty looked aghast, utterly struck dumb.
Sent my son to Eton, toughen him up a tad,
Hopefully play at Flanker, just like my old Dad.
Got myself a Cadi’, drives like a dream,
Shiny sleek and black, trim of vintage cream.
Gielgud and Guinness, met me at the Royal,
A script for their new play, Rich Man & Toil.
Later with QE2, after receiving my MBE,
She asked my opinion, of the shows on BBC.
I stayed at base camp, nursing a busted leg,
Hilary splinted it up, with rope and spare tent peg.
Spent some time in Burma, till the Japs came in,
Came home to Blighty, temper wearing thin.
I was at the Oval when Hutton hit 364,
England posted 903, a record breaking score.
In service with his lordship, so many stories,
Serving champagne to upper class Tories.
Tales might be true, just a little overstated,
Like the one that got away, typically inflated.
They were rather pompous, but often kind,
Especially the ones, left with half a mind.
Get me a stiff one Walters, Champers is gassy,
Just Lords way, sounding snob and brassy.
Then I won the football pools,
Bought my wife a gem,
So now I am a gentleman,
Just like the rest of them.
Limerick: Once a Barrister hired a Spinster
Once a Barrister hired a Spinster
To work his pump short of a sphincter
She bought piston and nuts
Fixed up the leaking guts
Then Spinster married Barrister’s sister.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
The wails of a goddess comes with heated heat & excitement / that causes stings / a symptoms of Gonorrhea / but with the right boot "Goals no rare"
To those who long my goddess with me / i send loads of love to fall on you / I'll continue to chest your arrows for I be Drogba / no matter how skilled you're " A le ri draw gba"
They say chelsea owns the blues / you're just An Everton with stripped white lines / you can't lead the blues / i own the blues with it reggae
Every dawn comes with love / but Friday class with barrister tu / hatred - hissess - sudden projects - open test /I cheat / my babe cheat to
After the stress / I come to love the earth with a good soul / sit on the lyrics of Dior with pop smoke
I'm Ismail Junaid Oluwadamilare that's my ID / not Ìdòwú / don't call me ID
I'm a poet / i do poetry / branches bend for me when I'm tired of the summer / that's the poets tree
I return a song of tribute to father Shakespeare / i just murder lines i don't shake spears of poets /they've bars to
I've sealed all the madness of love that dwells in me
She smiled the smile of a bankrupt barrister
No one suspected her files were out of order
Walking across the floor on staccato heels
They stared as she strutted through the corridor
They had fallen prey to her honeyed tones
Her breath had declared their innocence
They gladly paid her fee in advance
Deceived by confident indifference
Unimpeded by the facts of the case
She only practiced the art of beauty
Her greatest successes gifted by men
Who were bewitched while on jury duty
Sometimes though, there would be a lady Judge
Demanding to hear the facts of the case
The accused was no longer mesmerized
They had a look of concern on their face
The scales of justice weighted against them
Sad for them, no get out of jail free card
She's off to the next unsuspecting fool
They're unaware that she should be disbarred
Diary of a House
On a street called Curve
I rest on lovely land
Born when Elvis was young
Born with high hopes.
A cuddly couple came to see,
See me in my fresh pine smell
Pure white-grouted rose brick tiles
They with chest-grasping smiles and dreams.
The nursery filled, new paint would wait
My dress of green unmowed was shred.
Loss of work, he buried his head,
"Please vacate" the notice said.
And then the business lady
Led strangers through my veins
I wept for my little family,
Lost to me.
My roof raised its prickles
Don Juan in his new Mercedes,
A fledgling barrister with cans of color,
New hope coursed in me.
Soon his interest waned,
As a bachelor’s life would do,
Dishes piled, floors reviled,
Grass and shrubs just grew.
And now do I dare to care?
Burly Dad, a 50ish mom,
My lovely land is smooth,
Beds though bare of blossom.
Still, I sport some Christmas lights,
On my 50's gingerbread,
Hope again lurks surface close,
Come spring to hold up my head.
Impatiens and pansies will curve
And coil around my base,
Flotinias will adorn me,
My green dress mended, clean faced.
A showpiece I’ll be among scoffers,
Who looked away from my tears,
For the families that grew in them,
Are growing old, in their crumbling years.
Does it really Matter
If I am an Absconder?
Does it really Matter
If I am not your Bedcover?
It will never really matter
For even if I am not an Adder
I am neither your Barrister
Nor your Bagpiper
I am also not a Backstabber
And certainly not a Backbiter
Though I am not an Abuser
I do feel like an Abusee
Waiting with lots of Glee
For my Anchorage
After a million Age
I can see the old Adage
With a new Assemblage
I will certainly be Backbit
With a lot of Credit
Regretfully, you should have fled, my Spirit
With a lot of Merit
I should think I do not need to dream anymore
For all my boyish dreaming has borne nothing,
I cannot carry out my motivating visions, so
I should quit having those fruitless hallucinations.
Once I dreamed that I would be a barrister
Someday after my troubled academic progress,
But I’m aging and still fighting flaws of character
That prevent my being anyone of note in this life.
Maybe I should live each godsend day as it comes
And peacefully forsake the folly of dreams that pay little,
To live like one without any definite dreams or terms
Till perhaps I get chocked by some delicious stuff someday.
I strictly will not dream of being anything in future
For I simply want to do cheap things that make me happy,
I forever want to be young and I just do not want to mature,
So that I can savor the thrills that entertain a juvenile heart.
Let the luckier breed continue to dream of a big brighter future,
I’ll only write sad poems and savor every passing moment’s pleasure.
Still i rise
they planted me in acid
death is inferior, i remain Placid
attacking my flesh and bone, I am not shaken I am passive
they never stop, they remain avid
Still i rise
they stoned my character
sue my hopes, I am tormented by their barrister
exploited like I was Africa
Still i rise
No pain shall ever be shown through my eyes
A masochist defies