Best Beaut Poems
In the land of Oz, we're all fair dinkum,
Every bloke, Sheila and Healer too.
By crikey mate, if you get us started,
You'll regret the day I guarantee you.
In bonza days some may call hard yakka,
With an esky chockers and a barbie that blares.
Strewth! I tell you even our bogans are grouse,
Where else can you find platypodes and Koala Bears?
So spend an arvo or two and don't be a bludger,
Smoke a durry and blow the froth off a few.
You'll be saying "Man, that was a bloody ripper",
So get off your dunny and tell a furphy or two!
If you're thinkin' of comin' over, but not too sure,
Just have a go, ya mug, you may just find.
The best place to go walkabout and make new friends,
But don't be a goose and leave your goon bag behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We're as Aussie as "You Beaut",
We're as Aussie as the Holden ute.
We're as Aussie as a kangaroo,
We're as Aussie as we're "True Blue".
Lady Ella, Queen of Jazz:
you brought so many songs to life.
Forget the words? Just make up new ones
like you did on 'Mack The Knife'.
Satchmo Armstrong, so unique:
in 'Summertime' my soul is freed,
with 'Hello Dolly', 'Cheek to Cheek';
'What a Wonderful World', indeed!
Sassy, classy Sarah Vaughan:
your 'Autumn Leaves' fall scattingly.
Your 'I Feel Pretty' makes me 'Misty',
'They Can't Take That Away From Me'.
Mel Torme, the Velvet Fog:
'The Christmas Song', 'How High The Moon'.
I love it when you scat away
The 'Lullaby Of Birdland' tune.
Astrud, 'Girl From Ipanema'
walks on by, a sight to see.
Your 'One Note Samba' swings so lithe,
Brazilian skies in harmony.
Basia sings of 'Time And Tide'
and woos me with 'Astrud's tribute.
'An Olive Tree', 'Baby, You're Mine';
Each song you sing, a perfect beaut.
Time and space do not allow
for Nat, Al, Tim, or more such names:
Diana, Johnny, Janis, Cheryl*,
Jazz burns bright - you light the flames!
//Poet's Notes: Mentioned here are my favorite Jazz vocalists (*with a quick nod and smile to Nat King Cole, Alan Paul, Tim Hauser, Diana Krall, Johnny Hartman, Janis Siegel, and Cheryl Bentyne). Let me know in the comments if you have favorites I did not mention. Perhaps someday I'll write a sequel for my favorite jazz instrumentalists. //
1) MENTAL STORMS
I am not a poet
I have never claim to be
I only write down my feelings
Because it helps me mentally
It was kept a secret for years
never for others to see
A personal world
Where I keep my memory's
Focusing so hard
It's like I'm eating them on TV
dealing with the loss of a love one
Can come in all shapes and all forms
I just personally found writing to be
The way
That helps tackle my personal mental storms
You see when the storm peaks full force
it's has no remorse
It transfers lightning bolts of pain shattering strain electrifying the vains as it travels besides the bloods course
Then the pain inflames the brain
as it test the human frame
to see if you can regain
the inner strength to remain
strong enough to maintain
as you cope with the constant strain of handling one of life's cruelest games
So I don't care if my English is not the correct grammar
That really isn't my concern
The fact is I'm actually thick as when it comes to understanding all the proper punctuational terms
I don't write down my feeling for anyone to grade
I don't write them down for attention or praise
I don't care for the spelling mistakes or the ink stained tears that phase the page
Cause when I'm writing
half the time my hand barley keeps up pace
Often the tears flow blocking my vision as I scribble down words like an emotional race
But like any storm
They always pass through
Some are worse then others
But eventually the sky returns blue
As the sun comes out from behind its covers
So as the wind howls hard
the rain beaut down
It's a case of if you want to survive the mental storm
Or admit defeat and drown in your frown
William light
Sweet n Dumpy
I’m a bit of a brute when I’m out in me ute,
When the road rage gets me a bit grumpy,
I’m feeling beaut like hairy galoot,
The meat on this Shiela is lumpy,
got me a girl might give her a whirl,
short at one end and quite dumpy,
she always slaps me round the head,
I nibble her ears twice monthly,
I must have me meat ,
Cos me toenails compete,
With me claws and the fangs in me head,
The life blood so sweet,
Fills the void just a treat,
But still, there’s sweet dumpy instead.
Don JohnsonMatt Caliri
Contest Name Wolfman Falls In Love
Kim Kardashian is a beaut, but we all know that she can be a sloot.
She was with Ray J for his dime, now their affair has ended up online.
She looks a bit like her Mom but in her prime.
Sorry Kris, it's past your time.
Mikey is a mango muncher,
He just loves that yellow fruit,
It is orange on the outside
With fragrant aroma that's so beaut.
Once he takes that skin off
His taste buds do a loop-de-loop,
Munching all that yellow flesh,
It really is his favourite fruit.
Now the juice is running everywhere,
What a mess he's in,
It's dripping down both his cheeks
Just near Mikey's yellow grin.
sleeping (( COLLABORATION * Don Johnson ))
by~ DON JOHNSON
The Nullabor it does abhor
the desert in it standing
The broken heart
he keeps apart
where Eagles are a landing
kangaroo is prolific cos good seasons bring in millions
they shoot them for the last hundred years,
Hoppy is still there in millions
Almost a plague after rain
The cure the joy the madness ploy, just catch a little Shiela
but broken hearts tend to self destroy
The one true love, to feel her
so searching for the lock of eyes upon the Nullabor
kangaroo does abound, dead straight the road for sure
Ironic tale sour grapes inhale,
He sleeps upon the plain
his swag is near the old Ute, and the dog is ever watchful
his protector is a beaut
~civilization calls~
he has to go back to the city streets
And searching ever searching for the eyes of lady sweet.
***by~ POET D:
Searching and searching till weak eyes fall asleep.
~civilization calls~
Calls the plague of raining streets!
The sleeping kangaroo took me into the abyss of sour grapes.
A wildlife with wildfire turned over by wildflowers.
Seascapes; full of sand that no one dared to understand!
Drowning underwater in a universe that had no expand.
Where the passer-by's felt the expression of sadness in his sleeping face.
All it took was experiencing the world with one lonely look.
A grain of salt, in the night sky!
Where clouds ‘walk-sneak and / clouds-cry like a whirlpool’,
Tears from a near by fountain deep in a valley.
Where we can sing for roo's sleeping heart.
Death in a wild flower mourning asleep on the hour.
Seeing’ is believing when Shiela appeared.
Drying tears with her sweet eyes over the desert lands.
A Collaboration with *DON JOHNSON
~MY COLLABORATION CONTEST~
my mouth never ran for words
to a wordless place
my heart never ran for blood
till it met your face
but they ran, they ran away!
my spirit had never fled astray
to the realm beyond
nor my soul ever fly away
t'where it was born
but they fled, they fled in turns!
my eyes never beheld, and true
such beaut', ***** and strange
they only saw, but never knew
from where fairness came
but they saw, they saw your face!
my head did n'er think till now
that within the earth
and the universe around
"beasts" do, beauties get
but it thought with no regret!
my being was never well versed
to show grati-tude
nor were my knees made to bend
or my head to stoop
but they did, they did for you!
my heart did n'er beat like this
or not beat at all
for I, by grace, was made "king"
to rise, never fall
"and he rose, forevermore".
I think your natural habitat is bed.
Although you do so nicely,
in your kitchen, baking bread,
and when at the dining table,
can enjoy the cheapest red,
still, I think your natural habitat is bed.
You paint truly lovely pictures,
in all colours, blue to red,
write some you beaut bonzer verse,
as swells a modest feller's head,
but you're at your most creative
when cavorting with clothes shed.
So I think your natural habitat is bed.
You're really such a lot of fun
at things much better left unsaid
but should we laugh the way we do?
Should we groan some more instead?
Perhaps neighbours might be thinking
we ain't really too well bred?
But you're such a lovely lady
and I'm so very easy led
so I think your natural habitat is bed.
Charlie was the instrument
behind his investigating team
though no one saw his face
the telephone link worked a dream
John Bosley was the head
making sure operations did smoothly run
keeping the angels united together
in the battle defeating crime bar none
Kelly Garrett was the longest server
displaying her skills in every episode
her beauty and poise were supreme
as Jaclyn superbly showed
Jill Munroe was the pin up girl
with the blonde hair and figure to match
although only in for series one
Farrah was really quite a catch
Sabrina Duncan was the brainy one
with the looks also to combine
investigating with determination and insight
Kate J showed her to be one of a kind
Kris Monroe came in as Jill’s sister
one that knew how to shoot
small in stature but very petite
Cheryl certainly was a real beaut
Tiffany Wells took over from Sabrina
a real clever beauty you could tell
master of latin as well as the violin
real class is our Shell
Julie Rogers came in at finale
bringing real grit to the team
raised on streets of the Bronx
Tanya showed herself a real dream
What memories we all have
of the angels who were fab
we even can catch up on DVD
the loveliest angels we ever did see
poetgord
On top of my pizza
filled with bacon and cheese
sits a juicy pineapple ring
filled up with garden peas
This gives much wanted colour
to my anticipated big bite
the base is so thick
raising one's mouth a new height
The juice from my pineapple ring
runs all over my pizza
adding zest to its taste
giving it a new added feature
Now the ring slips slowly down
to fall off the plate
on to the floor below the table
I'm sitting at with my date
Then it moves over to the other side
where sits my date a real beaut
who thinks I'll have that
but finds it stuck to her foot
So I cut it from her foot
making her footloose and fancy free
with my knife and fork
made her eyes see only me
Love came via a pineapple ring
to cherish and keep we joyfully sing
AUTHOR NOTES: written with the childrens song in mind 'on top of spaghetti'
with a slight change of focus!
Yes, it's the racing carnival,
Fashionistas so topical,
Significance trivial,
Lovely fillies,
Eye candy,
Drunk and silly,
Studs in suits,
Looking beaut,
Glitterati,
Haves and wannabes,
For the paparazzi,
Doyens of the racing industry,
You all look fabulous,
Gambling magnanimous,
Thoroughbreds' gloss,
Media hype and dross,
Great racing day,
Booze, bets and babes,
Stuff the plebs today,
Our public holiday,
Melbourne Cup Day!
arc
skies treat
colors beaut
Youngest of all she went unnoticed.
So beautifully cultured but shy a motive.
So talented, so loved;
And above her the beaut world evolved.
To Cecilia and Robbie 'twas their spring.
But with Robbie little Tallis hoped a ring.
Then came the industrious Marshall so virile.
So sharp in charisma but in deeds so vile.
little Tallis knew him a hoax.
But out of this notion her Schizophrenic mind coax.
Yet love unfold for Ceci and Robbie 'twas vanquished
And in perishing indeed reputation tarnished.
Aye was this right of little Tallis?
Nope cos she got it all amiss.
With this couple she never again got a moment
So she wrote her fiction in atonement.
Dedicated to the movie Atonement ( by Joe Wright).
Please read about atonement and write about it. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atonement_%28film%29)
Ms. Brenda Brawling borrowed nothing,
but begged life to bestow her something.
Blistered blue when life barely listened,
she began buying bargain fiction.
By and by, she believed she’d become a book ink fly.
Her heart bade she give her own fantasies a book try.
Brenda bathed blank sheets in beaut romance
billowing with bawdy circumstance.
Brenda bloomed when her pen beget one man’s behavior;
the book’s brawny, bold boatman became her heart’s savior.
Brenda’s book was bought in big, boxed bundles,
so she boasted bling, but felt befuddled.
Daytime, bedtime, both brought baleful feel
born from thoughts baring boatman’s appeal.
Brenda balked, but she well failed to block boatman’s stalk
who wormed her sanity thru fiction’s crosswalk.
Obeying her pen, she beheld him in blissed fantasy blocks.
Now, Brenda’s berserk pen bends her daily at bleak o’clock.
10-9-16