Best Betters Poems
In a horse life.We can play with a burlap feed
bag, an empty milk jug, or chew on the barn stall
door.Just to kill some time, or to kill some every
day bordom.In a horse life.We get names like
Black Beauty, Flicka, Seabiscuit, or Secretariat.
In a horse life.We do tricks like bowing our heads
down, or placing our shoe upon a pedastool.Picking
up the cowboy hat.While tapping our feet rata-tat-tat.
In a horse life.We like a good block of salt.With lots
of minerals, to lick upon.A wholesome bale of hay.To
start off a brand new day.Or a bucket of grain.To keep
us all healthy, fat, and sane.And a fresh bucket of water,
to wash it all down.In a horse life.I could be losing a
horseshoe.While the rider is losing his mind.In a horse
life.We can be a workhorse, a race horse, or a trick pony.
Or maybe a showhorse, or possibly a circus horse.With
out all the phoney baloney.In a horse life.We can run all
day in the open sun, or run the race trak.While the betters
place their wagers.Of course, at the horse racing track
betters window.In a horse life..
California Chrome’s bid for a triple crown was a no-go.
He didn’t win, he didn’t place. He didn’t even show.
The owners of the horse were hoping to pop the cork
at the Belmont Raceway in New York.
Down the drain went the hope for history with fortune and fame.
Many said the horse that won the Derby and the Preakness was not the same.
Loads of betters were disappointed. What a shame!
No thanks to another horse by the name of “Tonalist”,
another bid for a triple crown winner was missed.
Nobody will ever see me at the race tracks rambling.
No matter how you look at it, it’s still considered gambling.
Cake is the thing which betters ~
The leanness of my soul ~
And frosts ornate the naked plate ~
And pleases one ~ and all ~
And sweetest ~ is the bite ~ that's warm
A sinful sugared slice ~
Though sorely adding to my form
I shan't abash the price ~
I've tasted as a chilly dish ~
Eaten at dawn and noon ~
Yet ~ never ~ in regret or wish,
I've left a crumb ~ too soon.
1/11/21
(a take on Emily Dickinson's poem 'Hope is the thing with feathers')
I have a grey shirt, grey short pants and grey socks.
The grey school with its grey toilet blocks and grey nuns
made my mother buy them,
which was understandable, because folks like us
were supposed to only buy grey clothes, and live in grey towns
for fear of going color-blind.
If ever we had understood
that the grey faces that ruled us
were all working for the Ministry of Greyness,
we would have run.
The Queen, the B.B.C. and all our betters
felt that too much color in our lives
might lead us to seek impossible rainbows,
and so, we were taught to know our place
on the color chart of life.
At ten, mum bought me a pair of long blue jeans.
I felt like I could ride a horse, or rock and roll
as good as Elvis (he was an American who lived far away
in a world of razzle-dazzle grace).
The girl next door, without prior warning,
took off her long grey dress and put on
a red short skirt dotted with colorful butterflies.
Neither of us being grey that day,
we gravitated together dangerously.
Dad warned us not to be too flashy,
but we went to the park anyway.
As we walked in a hand-held gentleness.
We saw the flowers turn their blooms to us.
We knew then that we were in an English poem
a poem that had never been grey,
but was forced into shapeless muted tones
by those who kept all the words to that English poem
for themselves.
("Blue Egg in Red Sea", 2020, original oil)
According to our betters,
The Karens who rule the internet,
We should all be aware enough by now
To know what is expected of us,
And so suitably clothed
In political correctness
Never offend again.
In this way each generation
Will leap and bound
Ever adapting
To the latest trend
All together now
In harmony all
Flotsam on a tide.
(5/16/26)
I've often felt quite helpless..Although i would fight hard, against the ocean of life
With its often; errant strong surging tides.'
In twenty twenty five we saw Los Angeles
Besieged; many areas were set ablaze; a great
City upon its knees.' The factor of bad
management of water not held in the
Ammount, that would really be needed
when on it; services had to count.' Also the
Arsonists did their job, a nasty crew indeed
I like others felt asized, of the helplessnes
As the Santa Annas careened.' No respite
Came the news reports, I saw many people
Had died.' I sensed defeat and could
almost taste the charcoal, it was fraught
; and yes I felt a tear in
My eye.. Yet all at once I thought of
God.? who was bigger than any disaster..I said a prayer then put up a blog, and requested prayers to 'the only Master' others joined and but a day and night.? A sea mist rose and rolled in early light.' Then on this improvement rain arrived..The
worst danger over and the remenant survived..'
Now i arrive at year twenty twenty six..A similar tale..My stomach felt sick twenty eight fires in
Victoria my 'home State' hit Again not
Accidents all.. A lot i'd guess were lit.? I decided to ask the Lord again, wondering would He
Have mercy this second time my friends?
All un-worthy i appealled for help.' Others
Answered, i continued and hoped.. For betters trends, again
Weather reports said no respite maybe dry
Lightening ( would more evil arrive? ) another day past I checked the news.' The
First I read was disaster.' My heart went to
My shoes..So my prayers were unaswered.'
Still i decided to look.' To face my chastisement and repent by the Book..Then I was shocked it was all turned
Around He had flooded out the fires people
Were heading for higher ground,
All Praise throughout the heavens all thanks to my friends..Who with me had enjoined..And we saw Himself His Name defend.'
The Soul-train was leaving the station,
Believers were gathered on board.
Their hands were all reaching for heaven,
And happily praising the lord.
But someone was left on the platform,
A ticket-stub fell from his hands.
He waved as the train was departing,
As Jesus said strike up the band.
The train rolled from station to station,
A star-man looked down from above.
Some Hindus were busy complaining,
That one God is never enough.
The clairvoyant spoke in a whisper,
This supper it may be my last.
A methodist minister kissed her,
And said you're a pain in the ****.
The passengers drunk with excitement,
Were having a whale of a time.
Cajoling and laughing and singing,
While guzzling down gallons of wine.
The Muslims were barracking bishops,
The party was hitting its stride.
A Cardinal minced with the choir,
Who just came along for the ride.
While paupers were wedged in the gangways,
With other unfortunate souls.
Their betters had cosy appartments,
All furnished in leather and gold.
The train climbed the stairway to heaven,
Agnostics all cheered from below.
St Peter was holding a sermon,
And God was the star of the show.
The clamour rose to a crescendo,
With rumours that God would appear.
The Pope stuck his head out the window,
And said I believe that he's here.
The saints held the hands of the sinners,
While Gabriel was singing above.
The train lurched across the horizon,
Then crashed in the tunnel of love.
The pearly gates took such a beating,
Reporters descended in droves.
The wreckage was charred and disfigured,
As heaven began to explode.
Old newspapers scattered in Eden,
Said one day somebody will pay.
While British rail made an announcement,
To say that the train's been delayed.
Because of You, Dad
Twenty years have come and passed
since I have seen your face,
a face so gentle, kind and sweet
yet God took from me through grace.
I used to look to you, my love
for all my earthly needs,
but, when you were gone, I needed Him
and then I fell down upon my knees.
For daddy, it was because of your love
that I was able to find,
how much the Savior cared for me
to know of His love divine.
And, now it is through Your Love Dear Father
that I can clearly see,
that You have a plan and a Will to work
that only betters me.
I know in my heart that He is coming soon
to catch us all away,
and He has given me His Word that I will see you there
what a wonderful happy day.
Your daughter,
Marilyn S. Jennings
February 18, 1992
Dedicated to my father, Kenneth V. Doyle
I'm better for the pain I've caused
I rise above it all
I unwind and circumvent
I tend to the breech that I have rent
Give me mine, break the mask
Tell me you will take it back
Better is - giving back, Better is - giving back
I have deprived those I love
I have been away
I have despaired all of hope
I am soul / feel my sway
I am Spirit, I am Life
If the truth is we all will fall then who will rise
Take my place; there's no one there
I've seen it all from afar
Take theses battles, take these scars
Maybe they will help you too
Take the stars in the night
If you can count them then you can count my pain
Oh Lord hold me down
Tell me this life is over now
My heart is ice, it's cold has hell
This is the day when hell freezes over
Switch from a sweet voice I'm a completely different person
Yea the previous verses were wrote from prison
And If you care to notice the difference
I make a parrerral and I slam down a perpendicular
Now foothills rise up the size of the Appalachian mountains
Betters giving back but I'm gonna give it how they gave it me
Now spies have been compromised
People go to college and they still perish for a lack knowledge
The Government don't give a damn about the people
Every since George Washington there ain't never been a man to meet his equal
Longing to replace my old shoe
And then I met him without leg
Crazy I was for sunglasses
Lately I saw a beggar he has no eye
You are wealthy and not even healthy
Shame on you, ho! Unto your wealth
A living dog betters a dead lion
Great men fall mostly to women
Biblical Samson suits the example
Six feet under the ground we walk
There ends our struggle and bustle
An irony of life
And life’s irony
I’m offended by ‘ski slope,’
they should be ‘ski inclines,’
they’re insulting Asian people,
have those fools lost their minds?
I’m offender by ‘Black’ Russians,
when made by pale people,
I’m offended by ‘cow’ boys,
for excluding the bulls!
I’m offended by those who will
mock diversity,
the world would be much better off
if more folks thought like me!
I’m offended by gun owners
who protect their own lives,
it’s unfair that they show such strength,
when I can’t protect mine!
I’m offended some gay people
realize they’re really straight,
why did we even give them choice
if they were going that way?
I’m offended by fast food joints
that serve children French fries,
and when they change to apple slices
I’m offended my kids cry!
I’m offended by the government,
oh wait—now we’re in charge?
Then I hate the fools who protest us,
who do they think they are?!
I’m offended by those women
who take their husband’s name,
but happy when husbands take hers,
that just makes my whole day.
I’m offended when I hear people
say judge by ‘what’s inside,’
don’t these fools know it’s bigotry
to ignore someone’s hide?
I’m mad at those not offended,
don’t they know it’s currency?
And that there isn’t a person
more offended than me?
I take offense at the right things,
and that must make me rich,
poor folks always hate their betters,
that’s why they moan and b--ch!
Do not tell me how the world works
when I want things mended,
you're why we have no utopia,
damnit, I’m offended!
Oh that I could break the chime that addles my brain constantly
That implanted seed of rhyme that worms in my subconscious
That causes me to live and dream in my restrictive literary world
Courted by couplets with ballad intoning in the near back ground
I hear the thoughts of betters that advise me to divorce my love
Perhaps I will beg my vowels and consonants to free me for a time
To let my mind flutter like red admirals on blossom filled buddleia
With the promise that I will return with gifts from afar to share
That I will gather my love in sweet nectar scented embraces
To assure them that I will always return to childhood friends
Freedom freely given will strengthen our knowledge and ability
Will let be seen that which hitherto was the domain of others
The ghost of Lincolnshire's Daughter
Tonight smiles from her grave
With the locking of iron gates
Ends a plan that she made
Every father passed to his son
A family craft that was unbroken
Doffing of peaks, kept in line
With the banksman's pit token
Then with questions of fairness
Would lead to great losses
They would stand toe to toe
With their betters and pit bosses
Westminster Right would revel
In a working class decline
Pomposity and misuse of
Yorkshire's Thin Blue Line
So with lungs blackened with dust
A once strong Union's last stand
They walked out lamenting
To tunes of the colliery brass band
As I look away to no longer see into your eyes my heart now looks else where
not to replace you not to move on just to be with a love I fell for long ago
unlike you I fill complete with this love as if we never said good bye
and when my love came back I knew I needed to be there,
lost for months with out my love I knew some thing was missing
my days were long my nights seemed lost as if I was without
now I know that will no longer be I am now complete
the sun will shine the bright moon will be raising,
please don,t cry it's betters way it's meant to be
this love... so true...unlike no other out there
our love?...you knew this day would come
see I was lost and need to be set free,
sorry I'll miss you please stand tall
dry your tears, raise your head
please forgive but you know
I LOVE FOOTBALL!
1.Possessing obedience immortalizes, others
in wicked darkness
2.Conserve patience as treasure
nothing betters it.
3.Maintaining patience, after analyzing
known wise regard.
4.Adhering obedience ever, cosidered
greater than mountain.
5.Obedience, good for all
among rich, opulent.
6.Controlling senses like turtle’s
Organs, yield blessedness.
7.control tongue, failing all
if not suffer
8.Despite one, word obscene
whole charity lost
9.Fire-burn heals but tongue- burn
as sore ever.
10.Altruism waits gazing at
the appeased learned.
…………………………………
Dedicated to Thiruvalluvar(31B.C), the author in Tamil
Translated by S.Kandasamy, MUSIRI, TAMILNADU, INDIA
Published in poetrysoup.com on11-12-13
Email [email protected]