Best Bb Poems


BB

Push it right there,
it's schematic addictions dismantlement in prisms,

push it all along the way-
rotation of grapes,

push it into the grey-
for we cannot fake our face...

Slow the born band,

because we reprimand,

yet adorn the command,

push in push in and see the next best,

squeegee encounter,

and then a phat rent.
Form: Ballad

Bb King

Poet:  Ken Jordan
Poem:  B.B. King
Edited by:  Sparkle Jordan
written:  May 15, 2015


 
        : || :
          ||
          ||
          ||
     . -  || - .
  (       ||      )
   )   (  || )   (
  /       ||       \
 (        ||       )
  `    ____   ' Gone now, 
                   
                   spread 
                   your wings
                  
                   and soar -
                   
                    All of Heaven 
                    has 
                    a ticket,

                    to 
                    see your 
                    show.
             
                    This Gig 

                    is 
                    sold out,

                    to 
                    standing room 
                    only,

                     on the steps
                     at
                     Heaven's Door,
                      
                     To hear 
                     you 

                     play your
                     guitar Lucille,
                    
                     On the 
                    "Street's Made Of Gold."
               

                  
 Riley B. King -
"King Of The Blues"
 September 16, 1925
 May 14, 2015

All rights reserved (c) Copyright 2015
© Ken Jordan  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Uss Oklahoma Bb-37

On the morning of Dec. 7th 1941,
429 Marines and Sailors lost their lives.
As a result of a surprise attack on battleship row,
The brave souls perished to an awful demise.

She was a part of the Pacific Fleet when 9 Japanese,
Type 91 aerial torpedoes pummeled her that day.
And then her port bilge struck the harbor bottom,
Commencing to overturn, she began to rest in the bay.

She was the oldest of all the battleships there,
And the first to go down and capsize.
The battleship’s crew went down with their ship,
As horrid black smoke filled the Pearl Harbor skies.
 
The USS Oklahoma was moored at Pearl Harbor,
And a memorial was built at Ford Island in 07.
The Servicemen gave their tomorrows for our today’s,
And Pearl Harbor is the tomb of USS Oklahoma BB-37.
Form: Quatrain


Haiku--Bb

Bubbles float through air
same as always year by year
simply,charming, suds


Copyright McCuen 2009
© Mc Mc  Create an image from this poem.
art
Form: Haiku

Bb King Poem By Jaymz Whyte

When I get to heaven I hope to see
I hope to see B.B. King
I hope he's got a stage that's all his own
I hope to walk down golden streets
Golden streets that lead me to his stage
Maybe he will sing to me for 100 years
The man with the beautiful voice
A beautiful voice with a choir of angels
Angels and Lucille for eternity
In gods light he shines
He shines just for me
BB King you bring tears to my eyes
B.B. King you are a Beautiful man a beautiful soul
Your voice is golden
Lucille is true and I will always love you
until the end of time
B.B. I never liked to sing
I never liked to sing and move
Your soul reaches out and touches mine
You make my soul sing
Your soul makes me sing
It make's me sing and move
Form: ABC

B.B. King

Singing out sweet
sad songs
   This bluesmaster 
comforts millions
    Will you listen to his records?
     And are you willing 
to experience 
     the world through 
the eyes 
       of another 
                      who looks much 
different than you?


Past 3 Oclock For Bb King

There was so much rain in your voice. 
Daytimes that slept with shadows. 
Perfect perfidies piling 
your W.C. Handy eight-bar bravado 

I never knew your midnight, 
your pluck of broken glass. 
You told stories that left ash trays. 
Burning, 
burned, 
ashes of bruised door frames 
and sweaty bodies from emptying yourself 
in emptier women.

Too many Lucille’s, but only one fire. 
A slow burn 
that taught only one thing worth saving: 

nothing. 

You taught us white boys that crying ain’t got nothing to do with tears. 
That we can’t apologize for leaving our eyes in the alleyway. 
That you can’t slam every door 
without someone wanting to know 
why the wind will always resist it. 

Today is the first time the rain sounded soaked. 
Like an old man 
waiting for God to answer for his suffering. 
Why he gave us a voice, 
and why he made us weep for it. 

And we end again, 
that wilted sun of repetition. 

That ghost finally appears; 
that final E9 transuding through 
the heavy breath you shake loose. 

You undress every agony 
and loved her 
greater than pain. 

And the night gave you 
what God never grants us: 

nothing.
Form: Ballad

Premium Member B.B. King In 1967

When we met, you were 
So much younger; back stage, 
You were sitting on a stool 
With your guitar.
We spoke about music, 
Your fans and travel
And how tough the road was, 
How you’d come so far.

Even then you were a legend, 
Though then your hair was
Free from peppered grey.
You possessed that infectious
Laughter that made me smile,
And long to stay.

Soon your second set began
And you retired to the stage.
You gave me a kiss good-bye,
And once again there was loud applause 
As you began to strum your songs,
I heard happy fans scream and cry!

*A true encounter
Form: Rhyme

Bb On a Mountain Top

BB on a mountain top
Who’d of ever thunk
It happened I was there we didn’t see a bear
Just a few old billy goats and they looked kind of drunk

My ma near **** when BB said hey mike look over there
I hit the brakes we hit the dirt .. just a little hard

The cliff was there where we could see the van was on two wheels
My mothers face against the glass we came to rest at last 
We all were struck got out to breathe my ma did nearly tumble
Down the steep embankment to where a freight train did rumble

My mother said you little bastard then she kicked my ass
I said ma that’s it im jumping she pushed me just a little closer

We hit the pool where it was cool, then we made a fire
We roasted up some pepperettes we sang a goofy song 
We drove your mother crazy, it didn’t take us long
Between her and ma it’s a wonder we made it thru

Now that memory is engraved in the chips of this here server
And your eDay today or was it yesterday
But the way things go i'm sure you know 
It might be gone tomorrow
Form: Verse

Bb Gun: a Poem In Three Parts

BB Gun

I was seven years old and standing in the middle of the street next to my bicycle.
All the kids from the neighborhood were there.
There must have been at least twelve of us.
I don’t remember why, but the boy who lived in the house we gathered in front of 
Got his BB gun from the garage, took aim, and shot me in the arm.
We were friends.
I think it surprised us both.
His mom came outside crying and told him to come back inside and
That it would be all right.
The area around her left eye looked bruised.
Everyone got on their bikes and rode away except me.
I continued standing there.
I still have that scar.

Earlier

A week or two earlier, I sat with that boy on a light pole, lying on its side.
I think it was to keep people from driving in the empty court behind my house,
But it was a long time ago, and I could be wrong.
We sat and talked and talked. 
He was a year older than me. 
I remember that his parents weren’t like my parents,
But it wasn’t later until I understood how.

Later

When we were in high school, the neighbor boy and I worked together--
An after school and summer job we got because
Our fathers both worked at the company.
There were five or six of us, all from different backgrounds
But friends at work.
One day the boy invited me to play pool. 
As I got ready to walk over to his house, I was surprised to see him 
Pull his car into my driveway.
He seemed nervous, upset.
We talked for hours in the car in the driveway.
Then we went for pizza.
He didn’t want me at his house that night.
His dad was drunk and acting mean.
That’s when I understood.

A fence and an unforgettable memory

2024.5.26
Sunday, My house was broke in.
The next day, you messaged me "Good morning".
Two hours later, I explained about the robbery.
"Invaded?? i went past and saw
The police van this morning.
I was a bit worried that
Something might have happened."
From that day, every evening,
You came to my place and stay till quite late.
You made sure I was protected,
Until the back fence was repaired. 
For a continuous of six weeks,
Every Saturday, you came to carry out a project,
"Putting lipstick on the pig"
You were quite sick of doing it,
But little you know, how I loved seeing you.
Yes, I needed your help,
But I needed your companionship too.
Our friendship grew bigger and better.
We had so many things in common except travelling.
We shared the same passion.
You kept on encouraging me
To get a piano or a keyboard at least.
You told me you had three,
One with the weighed keys.
I learned that your first instrument was a drum set.
When the project finally completed.
We shared music, songs and movies.
You were very gentleman,
Not once, you had tried taking advantage of me.
For that, I respected you most.
The most intimate time,
Was you put out your arm,
To help me getting down the steps.
Such fond memories like that,
How could I forget?
BB, I treasure your friendship,
How bitter sweet, short and brief,
Every day I pray, you are happy and healthy.
Thank you for bringing out the best in me.
You inspired me to write poems
Keep my diary in poetry form,
Did I do the same to you?
Have I made any possitive influent on you?

Today, Friday, 2025.05.30,
One year and five days later.
I still remembered how it was.
BB, thank you for installing
The communication Apps XMPP.
Helped keeping records of our days.
At least for me as my diary.
© C33 B66  Create an image from this poem.

Installation Apps Get Lucky and Luckier

2024.5.24 at 16:43:00
You installed Conversation Apps, Gjim.
"Have you read my previous message yet? One way trafficker."
The user name was "S... & L......".

test.  shonky   shifty   dodgy bloody   crappy   ty   shonky.

heeeeheeee x2

blah blah blah    blah blah blah

2024.5.27@10:25:00
Good morning Luckier

24.5.27@12:41:00
Invaded?? i went past and saw the police van this morning. I was a bit worried that something might have happened.

why are you so serious? I don't know if I can change the way I talk with friends. Sorry.

It is too big a change.

nobody complains but you

words exist in context, and the context is I don't have any intention to hurt you

i was working on my video and censored the F word. I think you should be proud of me. Hah.

Yes, BB, I remember you did say you considered me as your friend.
This was another confirmation but very subtle.
I was too harsh on you because I wanted you to be a perfect gentleman. 
I supposed, nobody is perfect.
Near enoght is good enough.
I should not mind little thing like that.
It was too late now,
We aparted for more than 7 months.
It seemed like it was only yesterday.
I am sure, you have long forgotten me.
I am sure, I will soon forget you too.
Not because I want to 
But it was "Out of sight, out of mind"
© C33 B66  Create an image from this poem.

Happy Birthday to BB

Sunday 6th July 2025,
On this day. B turned one year older than last night.
I sent him best wishes through XMPP Apps.
However, he would never receive that,
Because he ended our friendship August last year,
Since then, he never open and read the Apps.

When I arrived at MCentral,
The first song I played no other than Happy Birthday,
Then "The Moon represents my heart".
While playing there, I could hear the loud voices,
From that particular shop and I became annoyed.
This day, I cut my piano time short,
And went to Victoria Market to shop
Passing through many delicatens stalls.
There were tasting offers along the corridors.
I continued waving through the crowds.
All of a sudden, I had mix feeling sad and proud,
Sad, not because BB was not here,
I knew he could never be here.
He was a loner, he hated crowded areas,
He felt very uncomfortable in the public places.
He has had serious issues with privacy,
He had no phone, not land line or mobile.
He againsted all the governments departments,
But enjoyed the local community amenity.
I thought that was pathetic.
He was there to use the internet only.
We shared that space for six months.
When he installed so many firm wares,
Apps liked Open Camera, New Pipe, and Image Pipe,
Fennec, Musicolet, MPV and Tedit, OSMApps and F-Droid.
Feeling proud because I was still be able to travel
To enjoy my life to the fullest.

7.7.2025, I played "Yesterday" by the Beatles.
Beside one particular famous Asian song,
BB loved Prince especially "Purple Rain"
I knew I could never play that. 
We had some different taste in music.
I could not stand Prince's appearance,
It frightened me without reasons.
© C33 B66  Create an image from this poem.

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