Best Bested Poems
There was a fussy bovine named Flossy
who was snooty and always so bossy
her udders would droop
when she took a poop
She bellowed until her eyes got glossy
Flossy had teeth like a barracuda
Her biting habit just made her ruder
She's not very sharp
She spit when she'd harp
So I called a few friends and we shewed her
Then she threatened to have me arrested
Thought she'd beaten me and had me bested
Knocked her on her duff
She wasn't so tough
Alas, she kept right on and protested
I saw her on the street the other day
Her monstrous butt sat on a bale of hay
Stuck her tongue at me
Mooed, "Hello, ducky"
She trotted off when I aimed pepper spray
What a chunky hippo she has become
I think Flossy secretly sucks her thumb
Waddles when walking
Ranting and squawking
To senility, Flossy has succumb
Bovine creatures can be quite abusive
When they should be a closet reclusive
The more that they speak
The more that they reek
My findings are all justly conclusive
12/21/19
Not going to pretend it
I've been feeling rejected
And disrespected
Nothing I said and did
Was effective
Time I take a sedative
Or maybe 10 of them
Was fine one minute then out the next second
THC, pharmaceuticals and alcohol ingested
For the pain, but it doesn't end it
Until it all really sets in
And I'm in another dimension
Where there's no depression
I guess it's
Kind of like a respite
But then reality sets in
Continually tested
And tempted
Many nights I never rested
I've been disoriented
Don't know what direction I'm headed
But I shall not be bested
Or subjected
To anything wretched
I got to be intrepid
Getting wiser and improving methods
So there won't be no crash or wreckage
According to legends
And first hand accounts from veterans
I don't think you get the message
They talk of being destined
And how it can be manifested
Getting closer to the exit
One day it all will have ended
Whether or not, it was unexpected
Might not make it to being old and decrepit
And just may die alone, with no friendships
My nephew dyslexic
And this girl I know, is anorexic
In a world so hectic
It'll break you down, if you let it
Turning into something unpleasant
Whether your an adult or adolescent
No longer very majestic
It's becoming pathetic
I'm tired of being authentic and poetic
As well as what trended
And is recommended
Regardless, they're never going to give credit
Later on or in the present
I have come here to confess my deepest shame
Your wit, I admit, I more than admire-
It wakes me, it shakes, me, sets my brain on fire
I long to claim your fame, under my name
Your indelible intricacy I yearn to master
I strive for your heights in increasing pain
But all futile, this folly of inferior gain
No matter how fast I write, you write faster
Now you skip away as I struggle for breath
My purse is empty; you haven't spent a penny
Where is the end of this contemptible envy?
When my best is bested - what is left?
10/17/18
NOT for 'Seven Deadly Sins' contest.
Dishearten me if that is your will
I have seen countless others dance in your shadows
Abandoned, alone within your grasp
Bested through your touch
Exhausted they fell
Too tired to two-step to the beat of their own hearts
Empathetic eyes closing before me for one last time
Silence replacing their laughter
I remember all too well
Have you come for me now?
Alas! I will not dance and fall to your touch!
Twirl around with the thoughts in my mind
Entertain yourself with my childhood pain
You etched those memories there
Obnoxious thief that you are
Unhand me, I don't care to dance
Acrostically I Stand Tall poetry contest
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr.
In the silver glow of moonlight you are all I want to see,
You are every dark red rosebud, every line of poetry.
When we met, that summer evening, time was halted for a while
And I kissed the stars above us who had given me your smile.
You wore earrings full of starlight and a dress of woven night,
Like a goddess from Olympus you pushed all else from my sight.
There were wisps of silver cloudlets filling spaces in the sky,
In the breeze between the treetops was the sound of nature's sigh;
For she knew she had been bested and the crown was yours to wear,
You were beauty made as woman, there was gold dust in your hair.
In the silver glow of moonlight you are all I want to see,
You are every dark red rosebud, every line of poetry.
Every moment that I've known you I have known that love can grow
And in every word I've written I have put that love on show.
I can taste your tender kisses when you whisper me my name,
If I float across the heavens I will know you are to blame.
When you kissed and called me lover, when you gave me all the world,
I was suddenly immortal and my colours were unfurled.
We can dance until forever under skies of midnight blue
And all I will be thinking is it's me that's here with you.
In the silver glow of moonlight you are all I want to see,
You are every dark red rosebud, every line of poetry.
She waits, and Oh so patiently!
every day she looks, ("Oh, might I gloat?")
for sight of that one trawler, 'The Forever,'
cresting waves, he, wildly cursing,
all the while he's still afloat,
and every day she moans, "Oh, may he never..."
Nails bitten to the quick,
worrying her apron string
or some small piece of fabric;
she's constantly in hope the weather's kind,
carelessly cleaning candlesticks, she fiddles
with her wedding ring to occupy her mind.
The ocean seethed, and then it settled,
roared once more, its fury unrestrain'd.
The sea and Mary sharing mixed emotions,
would he wave, or would he wander?
chain'd in brute defiance, shamed if all his catch
were empty hull and broken promises.
A prideful man was he, and never satisfied
'til he had stretched his nets to overflowing.
As much tied to Neptune's rhythms as her rhyme,
and sometimes even more so,
he'd struggle 'gainst all odds before he'd quit,
but it was time;
time to raise the sails, admit he's bested,
and plot a course for Mary, fair and frail,
but cruel weather proved his blind undoing,
his compass broke, he couldn't see for hail,
his boat a mass of many splinter'd pieces,
he tried to make it home, to no avail.
Mary saw the wreck upended on the shoreline,
and saw the name 'Forever' on its side,
"wait," she cried, "I will not live without you,
forever in your arms I must abide!"
She cast herself from off the highest landing
and was borne off with the ebbing of the tide.
Up in Colorado, in the forests of Pikes Peak
A cranky critters conference was held just this week
It was led by a mouse, 3 legs, whiskerless & without tail
"Against a common foe!" He said "We must Unite! We must prevail!"
He hobbled out to the edge of the woods & pointed toward a house
In that house, I once lived a good life, a young & healthy mouse
Then one day the rancher's wife decided she'd had enough
I will say she is a worthy adversary, Mercy she was tough!
He looked around at all the critters, weasel, skunk & squirrel
& said "I hate to admit it but I was bested by a girl!"
Its true, I escaped alive but she got her trophies, too
For I left my tail, paws & whiskers stuck there in her glue
The squirrel spoke up in a streetwise Brando voice
I'll accept the challenge! For this mission, I am the best choice!
I know this lady well, having enjoyed seeds & nuts out on her deck
I am not afraid of her & will show her we deserve respect
So the squirrel plotted & waited until the time was right
He saw his chance & took it while in the birds she took delight
He scampered up a pine tree & scurried out on to a branch
While she was distracted with a phone call & a pretty bird, he seized his chance
He took a flying leap, landing square on her blond head
Taking great delight in her squeals of surprise & dread
He then let loose with a torrent of the defecation sort
"That's for all the dead & walking wounded!" was his parting retort
The moral of this story, for one there must be
Is be mindful of avenging squirrels when you sit beneath a tree
The old King took to the battle
and leapt into the fencers fray.
“Noblesse oblige” his cronies cry.
“Our King will save the day!”
He was a bull to their gazelle
nae a fair fight, nae by half;
he'd fight just to see the thralls fall
he ‘d pierce those peacocks for a laugh!
His continence was so fearsome.
His two burly arms a rare threat.
Some would nae fight His Majesty
nor fight of his knightly get.
“How is this fair?” the Lord’s lament.
How well met can these odd match be?
“Unless, of course, ‘twas nae ‘bout fair
this was nae called noblesse oblige!
In heavy plate with blade and pole
with broadsword, He’d bested the field;
so, as the fencers broached this game
the wiser lads all chose to yield.
They would nae raise a blade to him
nor would they save for him a dance;
many a brave man whispered there
and the bolder looked on askance.
“Let Him have the day! We’ll nae play
Noblesse oblige, my fine backsides!”
And, so the fancy fencers fell
like pretty harp seals on the tide.
There are many a way to win
and sure, many a way to loose.
Yet ‘tis the metal of the man
shows in the way that he chooses.
In darkness thus shadow’d with a keyring flashlight.
It’s green; it’s gray.
It takes away the misstep of hollowness.
The bed, a boat.
The waves of massive shadows in caves.
They growl and groan after midnight.
Bested by the harrowing shadows, no hero.
When grief came, fear fled.
The boat knew the rapids.
Each day awoke with the beginning of death.
Waters receded, white walls depleted, paintings
falling from the artist’s paws, with no applause.
Plausible? Unthinkable? Sinkable?
We choose which meander to follow.
The flashlight, a green beginning of a new life.
Of doubt? Of faith? Of fear? Of falling?
Falling out of the boat into the shadows.
If I dream I recover; cover my feet.
My eyes see more than wrong and right.
They see God. I’ll be alright.
Seven Savvy Sirens
formed a formidable fraternity
of pure-passion purpose
for female fatales.
Murder-minded maids
promised patient pursuit
of tensile tangled truth
while warily watching
crafty crook's coup.
But, busted and bested,
dames drink despair
like lambs laid lame
in trickster's thorny trap.
I respawn,
Just to see another dawn,
I train,
Not knowing if something I will gain,
I fight,
Only to be bested by others' might,
I die,
As I wave my finale bye-byes,
Some days,
I swear,
I'm walking right into the beast's lair,
PvP,
It will soon be the death of me
Schrodinger’s Cat Isn’t Both Dead and Alive
By Elton Camp
Physics claimed a particle exists in all states until you see it
Dr. Erwin Schrodinger, from such an inane error, did free it
In a box is radioactive sample, Geiger Counter, poison, cat
If the Geiger Counter sees radioactive decay, what about that?
It will then break the poison bottle and the cat thus dies
But without such decay, the cat won’t meet its demise
Those in error said decay had and had not taken place
So the cat is both dead and alive until you see its face
Common sense tells us this cannot be true
No matter how much speculating you do
The cat is either dead or preserved
Well before it has been observed
The Copenhagen view had a serious flaw
And that’s what Schrodinger wisely saw
The other physicists thus were bested
When by this thought experiment tested
(Note: This will be incomprehensible to anyone not already familiar with the subject. A basic knowledge of physics is needed to understand it.)
Seven savvy sirens
formed a formidable fraternity
of pure-passion purpose
for female fatales.
Murder-minded maids
promised patient pursuit
of tattered, tortured truth
while warily watching
crafty crook’s clever con.
But, bested and busted,
dames drink dark despair
like lambs laid lame
in trickster's tensile trap.
It is nearing 09/11
I feel the years roll back
And what I wish was just a dream
Consumes me with the coldest fact.
That unwary citizens that day
About their daily task
Came face to face with hateful death
And fell beneath his grinding axe.
What legacy, what epitaph
Can justify their deaths?
A stinging gauntlet slapped our face
For years the challenge went unmet.
So long the villain did run free
The whole world knew his name
It was Osama Bin Laden
We laid to rest Saddam Hussein.
A tale to tell our young ones
I know not yet what history say
Only time can dull the awful pain
But I still get sick about that day.
My heart never cease to ache
I dream of souls in agony.
Why does it seem that just the bereaved
Can grasp my questing eulogy.
For awhile it seemed we'd never see
Sharp justice bye and bye
Some wagged their heads to realize
We had no ' catcher in the rye.'
A healing came I can't explain
To fill the hollow depth
Ground zero is recovering
It seems that most the tears are wept.
Then a mystery befell us
Something never seen in history
The first black U.S. president
And our 'catcher' soon to be.
Not at all what we expected
Yet it happened just the same
By his hand Bin Laden was bested
And the world 'seemed' right again.
Yet
There's a tide that's rising in the south
And rumors of an eastern gale
The west best post a strong lookout
And then, if all else fail.....?
RETA PRUITT
August 18, 2016
Thrust a sword into my gut;
Save me from this mindless rut!
Armor, shield- an open field
(To guide my hands with luck)
One by one 'til all are killed;
Beaten, Bashed, Bested- Struck!
*Play on "Gladiator"