Best Bernard Poems
George Bernard Shaw,
A critic with a vein of comedy and language, quite raw;
He wrote in a movable shack, he liked photography now and then,
Ladies man, died at 94, cremated and planted in his garden.
________________________________
May 27, 2015
Poetry/Clerihew/George Bernard Shaw
Copyright Protected, ID 05-677-690-27
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Cleri-who?,
sponsor, Kim Merryman, Judged 2015
8th Place
GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
George Bernard Shaw, born in 1856,
Wrote plays and novels,
But for me the most
Important was he wrote many a poem
A quote of his “Write your sad times
In Sand, write your good times in stone”.
My poem ‘From Humble Beginnings’
Just the title mind you, is exactly from
Where Mr Shaw heralded, Dublin
Ireland, his fame was renown, no
University background, yet Literature
For Bernard was just thrilling,
And his quotes, plays and poems,
Always fulfilling.
“A life spent making mistakes is not only
Honorable, but more useful than a
life spent doing nothing”.
His winnings
Were numerous among which,
The Nobel Prize, and even an Oscar.
His quote “Life isn’t about finding
Yourself, Life is about creating
Yourself”. And, as such to be convincing.
His interest in politics was avid, he was
A true Socialist and joined the Fabian
Society, he became popular and
Enjoyed doing theater critics.
Started writing his own plays,
In so many different themes, the class
System, religion and the inequalities
In life. The public responded to his natural
Humor, Shaw's quote “The longer I live,
The more convinced am I that this planet
Is used by other planets as a lunatic asylum”.
For, said this wise poet,
“Progress is impossible without change, and
Those who cannot change their minds cannot
Change anything” and furthermore,
"We don’t stop playing because we grow old,
We grow old because we stop playing”
This famous Literary man George Bernard Shaw,
Was 94 years of age,
When he died in 1950
He wrote famous novels, poems
And plays for the stage,
But I will leave you with one other quote
Of his “Happy is the man who can
Make a living by his hobby”.
George Bernard Shaw,
A critic with a vein of comedy and language, quite raw;
He wrote in a movable shack, he liked photography now and then,
Ladies man, died at 94, cremated and planted in his garden.
Back foot Irishman
Who remembers his
tripe
Major Barbara
Androcles and the
lion
are we all asleep !
Just a man of his
time
like a five minute
pop star
friend of nancy boy
Bosie Douglas
bringing the poor
main man Oscar Wilde
down
Better self love
than grovelling in
the dirt
how can any real man
or woman dislike
Shakespeare
a friend of Michael
IRA Collins
all there a
collection of back
foot Irishmen
The Irish sadly will
never be free
trapped in their own
Sunni and Shi-ite
sh**
George Bernard Shaw,
A critic with a vein for comedy and language quite raw;
He wrote in a movable shack and liked photography now and then,
A ladies man who died at 94, cremated and planted in his garden.
________________________________
September 28, 2019 (edit)
Poetry/Clerihew/George Bernard Shaw
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1184-501-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the FFI Blog Series 12, Clerihew
Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
Back foot Irishman
who remembers his tripe
Major Barbara n Androcles and the lion
are we all asleep !
Just a man of his time
like a five minute pop star
friend of nancy boy Bosie Douglas
bringing poor Oscar down
Better self love than grovelling in the dirt
how can any real man or woman dislike Shakespeare
friend of Michael IRA Collins
Back foot Irishman
My little Chihuahua is such a guard
couldn't keep him barred on our side of the yard
troublesome and never shy
yaps at every passerby
Ah, chihuahua! Why? My little Bernard.
Since he keeps escaping, contrived a plan,
reluctant, under his harness I ran
horizontal a wood spoon
A distraught whirling typhoon
trying to get through the fence to the man
5/15/2017
Knock-knock, Come in, hey Bernie what’s up? Harry, you want to go to Peru?
Peru? What’s in Peru? Active volcanoes! I’m going to jump into one. WHAT?
Abby left me and I have nothing to live for. Bernie, I’m not Dr. Kevorkian.
Come on H, I already have the tickets, one round trip for you to come home.
Pack your 35 milliliter camera with the zoom lens and let’s go to Peru.
Bernie, my camera, and I at the west base of Ubinas; outside of Lima, Peru
The smell of hot wafting through the ashen skies, Ubinas is very active
Take a picture of this H, Bernie held up a 15x8 foot sign : Abby I LOVE YOU
He headed up the volcano ; about 500 feet he turned around and waved : Click
Just then a thunderous eruption of molten hot lava, cascading down the mountain
Bernie turned and started running, the lava in hot pursuit touched his boots : in flames
He screams in pain, I’m snapping pictures as he tried to swim through scalding magma
As his legs disintegrate, I zoom in on his ashen white face, as the flames engulf his arms
For a man who wanted to die, the horrific fear on his face, the terrifying look in his eyes
A puff of smoke and Bernard James was gone. I could feel the heat of the lava descending
I run to the truck and drive as fast as I can back to Lima. In a darkroom, pictures develop
Deviously, I make a life size collage of Bernard David James ; starting at the feet---
I set the collage on fire: staring at a face afraid to die, I see the atrocity of Suicide.
Inspired and Dedicated to Colleen Bono This is my part of the Challenge I hope it meets
with YOUR approval…HG
Tuff and tender hearted
Realistic
Idealistic
Caring
Incredible
Alive
Bashful
Eloquent
Resourceful
Naughty
Above faithful
Responsive
Dissatisfied
Tricia Bernard
10/8/2014
I am a BRAIN CANCER/ BRAIN SURGERY savior I only know what is left is what you get of me and it tis not much. With this I impart a little more knowledge. I still have cancer it has not grown any more but I have it ck. every 6 mos. so I will have my next check up in March Yah for me!
Though not in his nature to beg
He would flip for a sip from the keg
Of the rum or the brandy
That dangles so handy
His lips near the tips of the peg
THE MYTH CALLED BROTHER BERNARD
Brother Bernard is just a name
but a name that has saturated fame,
notoriety in Nigeria and it's the same
that evokes comical blunders.
Hope Bernard isn't one of your brothers.
Man dreams of a trip to Peru,
had a dream he was eating his shoe,
then woke up at night after a mouth-full,
as the call of "Brother Bernard" sails through
He finds out his dream had come true.
Yet, they say "Brother Bernard" is just a name.
Oh okay! Any dissimilar notion is just lame!
It's becoming a myth though just a name.
Brother Bernard is like a whistle in a game.
There's unanimity that everybody has a name;
Some are short, some are long.
Dick is a short name but can be strong,
Virginia is name-modified known agelong
and can never be ignored or go wrong.
If there's a name that has attained
realms of societal ridicule & is carelessly profaned,
then it's the mythical phrase "Brother Bernard".
No jury or advocate will annul "this" case.
Does the name create an unseen force?
Our people have caved their superstitions,
greatly influenced by Social Mediacians.
Some say "Brother Bernard is just a name"!
Methinks, that and other names ain't the same!
Though the meme didn't mellow, what a shame!
A fellow opined it is more than a name.
The empirical enquire the memes aim:
And entreat the source of your mythical claim"?
But...I pledge to relish in this euphoria, my lord,
bask in the blunders of the madness galore,
to seize the comical moments with my bare hand.
Revel in the emphatic mention of "Brother Bernard"!
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? 14th April 2023.
(This is a true story)
I love dogs but there was one dog that I hated.
When she died in 1985, I celebrated.
That stinking dog roamed the neighborhood and killed people's animals.
The lousy owner was the one who was responsible.
That witch wouldn't keep her dog tied or put a fence in her yard.
A lot of people suffered because of her Saint Bernard.
We took the owner to court but the judge said there was nothing he could do.
What the hell is this country coming to?
That dog killed my dog and my cat.
She killed a lot of other people's animals too and they didn't deserve that.
That dog and the owner really made me mad.
When that Saint Bernard died, I certainly was glad.
MEET BERNARD ASUNCION
Benevolent
Expressive
Radiant
Noble
Aspiring
Responsible
Dedicated
Astounding
Superb
Undaunted
Noteworthy
Committed
Impressive
Open
Neighborly
Tribute by Curtis Moorman - 15 November 2019
daddy, you’re not my daddy.
just a strange man with similar features.
you play make believe every winter,
sometimes the spring.
i thought it was a fun game of dress-up,
until i learned the difference between imagination and reality.
you find the blonde hair, pale-faced mask you bought in 1987
in a box that’s hidden in the back of your closet.
it’s covered in dust and labeled,
“Unimportant Winter/Spring Stuff.”
you call me your baby girl —
stop by in your ’85 dodge pick-up —
make me call you daddy.
but daddy, you’re not my daddy.
and you didn’t want me to call you daddy
when i was a year old, in 1988.
you left the house with two over-stuffed duffle bags —
one filled with clothes, the other with booze.
you jumped in your ’85 dodge pick-up with a
fat woman named kim —
an ugly b*tch with sh*t-colored hair.
that’s the day you saw the ugly in me,
yet saw beauty in her while flying down muddy creek road doing 70.
Lucy’s earthly journey ended
and she is now in Pet Heaven,
just a mere five years old, but she left a hole the size of the Grand Canyon
in the heart of a blue-eyed earth angel.
Karyn waited at the big gate for her,
arms open wide,
tears streaming down her cheeks.
Her sister’s, Lulu — her beloved dog —
took her final breath,
wrapped safely in her mother’s arms.
No longer in pain, she runs free,
leaping, playing, without a care,
feasting on delights without end —
her bowl always full for the taking.
No more belly aches, no rushing to the vet —
just boundless joy and endless peace.
Yet her brown eyes soften for a moment,
looking down on her human mother and brother,
their love still tethered to her soul.
But then — a familiar face appears —
Kaia, her Newfoundland big sister, comes bounding near,
welcoming her with licks and happy yelps,
running circles around an angel —
an angel with brown hair and warm brown eyes.
Karyn smiles through her tears,
opening her arms wide once more.
And softly she whispers,
“They are safe with me, my sister.
I will watch over them,
just as you watched over them — and me.
Sleep in peace,
knowing we will all be together one day,
completing the circle,
as written in the stars.”
Then Lucy pipes up,
“Leave my favourite window open, Mom.
That is where you will find me when you need me.”
Faithful Beloved Companion
Lucy Klassen
February 29, 2020
March 11, 2025