Best Bettered Poems
Sadly I am still here but you are gone,
so all things must pass my loyal friend -
true the proud breast filled and white coat shone
from youthful bedmate to old grizzled end.
I remember that day you followed me home
and wishful begged my heart that you stay,
but you belonged to a family of your own
until they gave you up and moved away.
I think of old times over hill and dale
and how fate or chance drew us together.
In my love for you in this a dog’s tale
you will, old friend, in my heart roam forever.
A scout, a hunter, and a rover cast -
the car chasing fool in outrageous youth,
yet in his lazy dotage I looked past
an endeared mischief too long in the tooth.
That you bettered me I do freely boast
and made less joyless this world unto me -
a playful spirit I remember most
and a tail and heart for dogwaggery.
I think of old times over hill and dale
and how fate or chance drew us together.
In my love for you in this a dog’s tale
you will, old friend, in my heart roam forever.
Written: May 1990
Words.
These words merely written on paper.
They do so much good for the soul.
They're something miraculous.
Like spun gold from the dull lead embedded in a wooden frame.
It become your safe haven.
You begin to scribbled until your bones are corroded with artheritis and your skin cracks and bleeds, because you need it.
It's like drugs. A fiction addicition.
You become so drowned in your own thoughts that what you thought was real slips away from you.
You begin to see things differently and you cringe at ignorance because you've bettered yourself through your addiction to literary diamonds.
These words, these treasures, these positive drugs, they become the beat in your heart.
And you hope and pray to anything that it won't be taken away from you.
Because not all drugs are bad.
Some are just red wine and liquid gold that we choose to ignore.
WIFE AND MOTHER
Dearly Departed Sweetheart, and husband.
Some serious time I put in when I said " I do "-I kept true to the vows, but not to myself.
you have long been sick of me, and I hated I had to give up my "status" to be stuck with you. See people needed me when you hogged me up all for your self. Married me and gave me twelve children...Before birth control. You never bettered my lot. I would wash, cook, clean-routine. Children and more children, without the pleasure of making them. Not even a kiss did I get, On/off -bun in the oven...
I wanted to know "was that all there was"...and then death parted us.
I never thought I would have another life, After your transition, I was living my life through two of our twelve Kids
Now that you have left, and I still have life; I will be looking for the ecstasy...and getting advice on my new life from our babies. Coming out of the dungeon, I am not looking back in regret- nor am I sorrowful.
I just wish that being your wife and being only for you, meant I'd be privy to your prowess.... or could have meant that YOU also be my pleasure.
Agony without ecstasy is misery. I kept my vows and we are now parted.
I am sorry that we could not share our marital bed n blissful harmony.
Not even a kiss, "dearly departed husband"- You don't know what you've missed.
I am a wildcat and just for the record, "You Didn't need that mistress".
re-post inspired by Brenda's contest
THE HERO
Every Tuesday on the dot,I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.A solitary
sixpence,all my wealth to pick up my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.To
read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,sporting giant extraordinaire,batted
bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,he left all others in his wake.Give him the
ball and the game was soon over,he even outscored Roy of the Rover.Bowling
right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,well above average Wilson
was incredibly great.He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker without dispute.My
inspiration,this imagined prince,never bettered then,before or since!
Dearly Departed Sweetheart,and husband.
Serious time I put in, when I said " I do "-I kept true to the vows, but not to myself.
you have long been sick of me, and I hated I had to give up my "status" to be stuck with you. See people needed me when you hogged me up all for your self.Married me and gave me twelve children ..Before birth control. You never bettered my lot. I would wash, cook, clean-routine. Children and more children,without the pleasure of making them. Not even a kiss did I get, On/off -bun in the oven...
I wanted to know "was that all there was"...and then death parted us.
I never thought I would have another life, After your transition, I was living my life through two of our twelve Kids
Now that you have left, and I still have life; I will be looking for the ecstasy...and getting advice on my new life from our babies. Coming out of the dungeon, I am not looking back in regret- nor am I sorrowful.
I just wish that being your wife and being only for you,meant I'd be privy to your prowess.... or could have meant that you'd also be my pleasure.
Agony without ecstasy equals misery. I kept my vows and we are now parted.
I am sorry that we could not share our marital bed n blissful harmony.
Not even a passionate kiss, "dearly departed husband"- You don't know what you've missed.
I am a wildcat and just for the record, "You Didn't need that mistress".
His gold teeth glistened in the sun
As ‘Long Ben Avery’ turned
To face his captives, head lowered,
Their providence to learn
For Avery was a pirate bold
Trained in the Kings’ Navy
Who, disillusioned with his lot,
Captained a mutiny
He seized ‘The Fancy’, in Cadiz
An act both rare, and bold
Then set out on the briny sea
In search of ships with gold
He plundered every vessel met
With not one man set free
And soon, his name spread fear and dread
Across the seven seas
For two years, not a ship was safe
As treasure he amassed,
But his biggest booty taken
Would prove to be his last
He sailed down to the Mandab Strait
And other ships did meet
Who chose him as their Admiral,
To raid the India Fleet
The ‘Mogul’s’ flagships, tried to flee
Chased by the pirate fleet
But a brutal, two hour battle,
Ended with their defeat
The pirates tortured those they caught
Without a thought, or care
As they searched on board for treasure
For each, to glean their share
The ‘Mogul’, proffered swift revenge
Hunting the pirates down,
Swearing each villain, had to hang
For crimes against his crown
The pirates scattered, far and wide
To skirt captivity
But most were caught, and hung with rope
Strung from the nearest tree
But Avery, was never found
Or his share of the hoard
It’s rumoured that his crew killed him,
And threw him overboard
No matter what became of him
Or what, was ‘Long Ben’s’ fate
No man’s ever bettered his feat
In history, to date.
The tea I use was born in Canada.
Holistic doctors told me of its name.
This strange concoction does a lot of good
with curing cancer its main claim to fame.
A nurse and doctor took its formula
and bettered it. Of that, there is no doubt.
The herb most vital is its sheep sorrel,
but don’t buy brands that leave this herb’s roots out.
Eight herbs for health include blessed thistle and
red clover, watercress, and wondrous kelp,
slippery elm bark and there are two more
whose roots, like sheep sorrel’s, are a big help.
Ten minutes you must boil it. Later, put
it in the fridge; it settles like brown sludge.
You have to shake it up before each use.
That sludge does not taste anything like fudge!
Online, the testimonials of those
whose cancer has been cured is not a few.
And there are other things incredible
this tea named Essiac can do for you.
Destroyer of free radicals it is -
removing toxins, healing, helping pain.
It aids digestion, even strengthens bones
and nourishes and stimulates the brain.
The list of all it does goes on and on.
So many illnesses this tea can fight.
I make enough to last for two week’s time
and drink three ounces morning, noon and night.
It’s bitter but not horrible; I’ve made
this tea my daily habit because I
am at high risk for cancer, so my friend,
in Essiac I'll trust until I die.
For the Wake up with Coffee or Tea Poetry Contest of Kim Rodrigues
NOTE: I will put info above for anyone interested in checking out this tea. Also,
I can put you in touch with people who can vouch for it. This tea was nearly made a national cure for cancer in Canada (back in the 70's) until it got shot down in their congress by the pharmaceuticals (surely we cannot go against THOSE guys!) Of course, nothing is fool proof, and they do not claim to cure all cancers all of the time; however, I intend to use this tea for prevention's sake for as long as I can afford it, which will hopefully be for a long time. For info on the best quality and price you can find, check out my link.
Every Tuesday on the dot,
I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.
A solitary sixpence,all my wealth to pick up
my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...
the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.
To read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,
sporting giant extraordinaire,batted bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,
he left all others in his wake.
Give him the ball and the game was soon over,
he even outscored Roy of the Rover.
Bowling right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,
well above average Wilson was incredibly great.
He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker
without dispute.My inspiration,this imagined prince,
never bettered then,before or since!
Edgar Rice Burroughs went beyond stars
To write of epics of Thuvia the maid of Mars,
Of Tarzan raised by Apes and Venus and Pellucidar,
Having stuck to his pen and paper, not wandering afar.
We had Wells going to the moon,
Writing of science fiction, reality soon,
Of time machines and stuff,
(Which will be true, soon enough.)
How about Asimov's drama
The magnificent Rendezvous with Rama,
Of the books of Wilbur Smith,
Or the mythical Lamia and Lilith?
There are tales, you need not be told,
In Poesian and Lovecraftian mould,
Creepy tales of horror and terror;
And even Cowboys and desperadoes in pointy sombreros.
Stephen King I really admire,
My nerves get taut as a wire.
His tales too many to name,
His genre is a completely new ball-game.
There's Dante and Milton, for sure,
And great bards and sages some more.
Once you get know 'em
You'll surely love their poems.
With Michener I ramble,
His is a historical ensemble.
Through history and time,
His sagas are sublime.
What of my ilk, the poets?
Their mind gets a spark and they do it,
No topics insane,
Their minds are arcane.
I can write and write
All through the night
Not stopping except when
I run out of ink for my pen.
With writing your mind is unfettered
Your brain gets definitely bettered
Of course you have to be well-read
Else the block will trouble your head.
As a writer you preen and you strut
Even without moving your butt.
So it's writing, any kind, I love -
I think it's a blessing from above!
~ 04 Jun 2016~
I have a long term enemy
Who l have battled with throughout the years
An on and off, love- dislike relationship
Often resulting in hurt and tears
There have been many tumultuous times
When negative and unkind words were spoken
Leaving me unsure and confused
To the point where l felt totally broken
Years and maturity have bettered our relationship
We have learnt to judge less and be kind
I have gained strength and understanding now
For my enemy was my own mind!!
Acknowledgement of God is step number one.
Knowing oneself, strength and weakness won.
Inspection by the soul of thoughts concealed,
A truthful inward view at last, revealed.
Acceptance is a skill that improves one’s life.
Whether for yourself or someone with strife,
Willingly, outwardly, roaming through time.
Feeling all the while peaceful and sublime.
Self-acceptance starts with introspections.
Frequent inward looks bring revelations.
The, man that understands true desires
Makes decisions well, as life transpires.
When willpower rules, happiness happens.
Faces smile and become joy with actions.
Thoughts of a man with fears unfettered.
Seeking perfection transforms, self-bettered.
Social acceptance travels many steep slopes.
There are external factors, members’ scope.
Etiquette, bylaws, molds expectations.
Approval depends on regulations.
Motorcycle gangs roam from land to land.
Live rough and tough while together they stand.
A code of acceptance in minds recessed.
Expectations implied are not confessed.
Boy Scouts acceptance on the other hand,
Living the oath and laws of the land.
Behavior rules have been tested and tried.
Conditional and expressed, not implied.
Accepting losses of people and things.
Sounds in the heart with a familiar ring –
Sudden losses bring emotional storms.
Death, divorce, or broken hearts cause reforms.
Blind acceptance belongs on a dark shelf.
For man must always be true to himself.
Study, evaluate then, accept truths.
Fully accepting humble not aloof!
Topic: Acceptance
© Name withheld for contest
April 14, 2010
I didn’t grow up trying to better anyone
but I bettered the bitter and discovered haters one by one
turns out it’s a lonely place when you’re the champion
everybody wants a piece everyday on repeat
you see them looking at you with the envy in their eyes
because I worked out while they sat eating all the pies
the effort and the discipline continuous developing
playing sport and at the gym
while they weren’t doing anything
they think that I was born athletic lucky genes they say
while they watch tv smoke and laze lacking energy each day
hours they spend dreaming about glory and achieving what they ain’t
while I compete in competition hard work starts to pay
living dreams the actual scenes and getting lots of praise
while no one ever notices the ones dreaming they are great
desperate for attention they start to label you that way
I don’t want attention I enjoy the sports I play
they look for ways they better you in any category
and then they talk aloud about it most assuredly
making sure that people know until they all agree
they’ve finally found the sweet spot they’ve found a victory
but then you go and win something and all the people see
then everybody talks about it and you are centre scene
and this just grows the hate resentment and the jealously
so now they will compete with you every possibility
behaviour fuelled by envy and it’s obvious to me
if you are lazy you’ll grow bitter and be a nobody
and you’ll become an empty shell who dreams they do achieve
desperate to be noticed by the whole community
and you will have to tell yourself just how great you are
over time you will believe it and see yourself a star
but that is called delusion you’re not who you think you are
becoming confident and cocky a reality apart
your happy days will be the days others suffer hard
you’ll kick them down and dance around and talk to them real harsh
entitled lazy liar horrid no empathy or heart
and this is how you will achieve as the narcissist you are
all because you sat and dreamed and smoked and drank the bar listening to winning stories of those held in high regard
and as your ego disappears amongst the mental scars
you’ll be wishing you were someone else hating who you
saying lots of nasty to people so high up above you
while they can’t even hear you they just laugh and shoulder shrug you
Monster with Demon, Devil and Angel
Fourfold in friendship so spellingly causing
Reasons for living and giving of love
Small sensing sproutings of canine confusion
Gamboling ever for tender collusion
With larger companion traveling souls
The road that is traveled is bettered by having
These tiny companions to lower the hills
Smoothing the roadway by filling the potholes
With layers of free given love without frills
There is mischief asparkle in all of their antics
As even in sleeping their trust is so real
Small dignities pacing the roadway beside us
Reminding us ever with magic we feel
I have no regrets, not a mistake made
Beautiful sands just slipped too fast
Through our hourglass smoothly
Time was not bestowed upon us
Not at this junction of our lives
Waves shall erase the footprints
The memories will remain etched
Hope intact that our paths will cross
Towards, through and beyond destiny
Eternal love for the one who bettered my life
Here Lies Bob
Have you heard the sad, sad story,
Of this man in all his glory?
He said that he would never wed,
Now, too soon, he is dead.
No wife to cry, no kids either,
From this life, he takes a breather,
Would he do the same again,
Or simply say a soft “Amen?”
Was he right, was he wrong?
Does he now sing a song?
In a sea of girls he fished,
Giving them just what they wished.
He was kind, he was attentive,
At some things, he was inventive.
He could be counted on for laughter,
He got just what he was after.
He was always quite unfettered,
Women said he was not bettered.
At romance he stood alone,
For past sins, he did not atone.
Courtesy was his long suit,
He never lacked for a recruit,
To try out for a while,
Afterward, they would both smile.
He always said he'd have no wife,
Had he stuck to that, he'd still have life,
What he forgot to ask,
As if it were a real task,
Was, if his latest “friend” was married,
Now, he will be carried,
By six heartbroken men,
Who wished to be him, now and then.
If he'd asked, he would have found,
And he'd still be above the ground,
Was that she was very married,
And, that her husband tarried,
In the garage sometimes, when she thought he'd left,
And that he would often heft,
A gun that put out so much lead,
That anything would get dead,
If unlucky to get in the path,
'Tween the gun, and the lath,
So poor old Bob got plastered,
Practicing what he had mastered.