Best Beware Poems
Thorn of the Rose
Beware thy fragile gentle sweet rose
When a dragon holds you to his nose
With those nostrils that ignite and flare
Or thou will no longer bloom so fair.
Burned to nothing but a brittle crisp
Dragon will then place you to his lips
He’ll gobble you up in one swallow
For you there will be no tomorrow.
Weep not my elegant fragrant rose
Some advice for monsters to oppose
There's a way to chase danger away
So you'll live to bloom another day.
Though with grace and beauty you were made
Show your thorns and do not be afraid
The terrorist must then set you free
As the wounds would sting him profusely.
Once again your tender heart will sing
Songs of love and magnificent things
I have a message for would be foes
Dragons beware the thorn of the rose.
23rd February 2021
Night is growing bolder, reaching into day.
In the amber light mocking shadows play.
Howling winds grow stronger--see the branches sway.
Trembling leaves cling but soon are torn away.
In the amber light mocking shadows play.
Outside the fire’s glow something stalks its prey.
Trembling leaves cling but soon are torn away.
In the chilling darkness, what do the whispers say?
Outside the fire’s glow something stalks its prey.
Howling winds grow stronger--see the branches sway.
In the chilling darkness what do the whispers say?
Night is growing bolder, reaching into day.
October 16, 2019
The wayward wind forever so aloof
across the prairie blowing wild and free;
just like a herd of horses on the hoof,
and running loose with nature’s grand esprit.
A restless spirit is this wayward child
who’s never satisfied in just one place;
she longs to solve the secrets of the wild,
and ne’er her ventured steps will she retrace.
A wayward heart is like the wayward wind,
forever restless, always on the move,
and always searching, seeking, ne’er chagrined;
she’ll leave you lonely and her love disprove.
Beware, before you carelessly depart,
don't wrap your love around a wayward heart.
January 8, 2020
Beware on Halloween a Witches brew
As into the night her frosty breath grew
Whispering you to her door
And played you a trick galore
You gave her your candy and off she flew
10-17-2019
copyright protected 2019
Jeanne McGee
If a golfer who’s clumsy and falls
Loses grip on the clubs that he hauls
He'd trip on a trap
With wood in his lap
And have problems in finding his balls!
for Craig Cornish's limerick contest
Oh, little sister, just remember what I've said
Don't you worry 'bout those monsters, hiding underneath your bed
They think they got me scared
Like a frightened little boy
But I got some news for them
I just bought some brand new toys
I have a super soaker, that's filled with holy water
And a Nerf Gun that I nick-name, Welcome to the slaughter
And a GI-Joe, will back me up, he swears he won't retreat
But I had to promise him, plastic's not what monsters eat
And of course I have the Marvels, Spidey,Iron,and good old Thor
The four Fantastic people, and a half a dozen more
But, if they fail their mission, doing everything they can
I promise little sister, I'll be there to hold your hand
by Jerry T Curtis 2014
Can't follow 1040 instructions?
Need help claiming all those deductions?
Trump knows what you need
Is not chicken feed
But his lawyers skilled in seductions
Last night in a forest, poor Dan
got bit by some creature. He ran
to the safety of home,
but as I write this poem,
he's changing! Beware the wolfman!
Feb. 26, 2020
For Richard Lamoureux's Warning Poetry Contest
Be not soft upon the morrow
For the maliciousness it contrives.
The future beckons unending sorrow
To gamely catch the vulture's eye.
'Tis the destiny of mice and men
To be laid waste by nature's curse.
Where foolishness belied of ink and pen
Will by the margins burst.
Persist not in vacuous dreaming
To make bold some vague intent.
Obviate all grift and scheming
To survive the main event.
There are those with want of glory
To lead sluggish minds astray.
With a foreshadow of song and story
For those with one foot in the grave.
These stygian forces stand ready
To make dark such days to come.
They seamlessly evoke some cosmic eddy
Where weathered voices go unsung.
We are pawns to this game we borrow
With our future slaked with pain.
If your happiness lies on the morrow...
You will be despondent once again.
If you're consumed by fear and trouble
With clouds toned a spectre-grey.
Prepare for further ruin and rubble
With a new sunrise on the way.
Put away burbling of blissful leavings
You think the morrow may provide
With the approach of another evening,
You will not long survive the tide.
You may bloviate a ray of sunshine,
Pushing hope where none exists
With an ignorance to the grand design
Where winds of chaos oft persist.
I will grant the morrow stands untainted
With yet no mark on time and space
But remove this cheer you've now acquainted
And forever leave my hiding place.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
The rimpledeeduggs klacklety splatt britly floaming,
Ere flamping drakkurz snazzle at elvitty gloaming;
Yon jamweezy wudderslimps gamwracks smotly crawling,
Hoytaling pagartrimps flotlessly wrothful in bawling!
Beete stell ere yethle flagorns craithen yere eise,
Ort smoothle yourn mithredoons bakk toon codry skize;
Bodryluntz quidups moost stupuddle cudgely pierdax,
And zakkertic flibboots wraithling in yert tardly tracks!
Lake Eliza 2...
Out near dusty Lake Eliza
Lived sweety tart, where flies are
Sucked oddly Emu eggs some sunny days
Like a dozen egg appetiser (1 egg = 1 dozen fowl egg)
She got em off the miser
Rotten eggs old Emu walked away (in disgust)
Of course she had a rooster
Who had a name like Zac the Brewster
Who was always a riding the duck
So she shot him with a trap gun…(3/4” water pipe)
12 gauge lead did flatten one
Rooster on toast laughed ol Chuck
A Sand goanna lame
wanted eggs just the same
So he crawled into the chook house for a feed (fowl abode)
Duck Chuck saw him there
spat n shat n tore his hair
rode the old Goanna yes indeed
So we leave ol Lake Eliza
without being any wiser
just beware of Ducky Chuck
and the ol tart that lingers
and the rancid smelly dingus
just rotten emu eggs you’re out of luck Don Johnson
Tyrants fat upon their moon
With untold minions to command...
Knew a diversion would be needed
As malcontent laid waste the land.
They yearn to cast aspersion
By letting forth a hellish storm
Against those of us far far away
With thoughts different from their own.
What about the children?
They shriek about the public square.
We must squash their parents' freedom
To show truly how we care.
Children are the future
And must parrot what we say.
It's up to us to know what's right
When parents lose their way.
Mount your horses... beat the drums...
We must forge our discontent.
A child is far too sacred
To be left with those of ill intent.
I know scant about these people
But know their moon's a mess.
It's odd their eyes have strayed so far
With local grievances to address.
It's an illusion old as time itself...
To cast a weary outward gaze
On those who differ from themselves
To foment some distant craze.
So here I stand... sword in hand
As they mount the castle walls...
While Tyrants mark a distant hill
To watch my city fall.
If only a word to bend the ear
Of those who wish my end of days.
Your rancor is misguided...
Let the children find their way.
But I knew the cost of liberty
Where a penance now was due.
As freedom has a shelf life
When you share not the Tyrant's view.
The End
I write my poems with words that drip blood,
Once written these poems are my treasures;
Poems floating and lost within a flood,
Words of sorrow and of pleasure.
These poems are to me my flesh and blood,
Beware new poets of poetry theft;
Those skillful, clever and so deft.
__________________________
May 15, 2015
Poetry/Verse/Beware
Copyright Protected, ID 05-673-313-15
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest
Advice to New Writer's in Verse, Judged 2015
First Place
Beware of Evil; it is a cunning
trickster, well-versed in tactics of deceit.
But alas, my words fall upon deaf ears;
greed's addiction isn't easy to defeat.
Flattered by your image in the mirror:
you consider yourself learned and clever.
Yet blind to truth, you fail to see its light,
and thus, have no beacon whatsoever.
And as life's games continue, Evil smiles
with contentment, watching from the shadows.
And navigating the dark corridors
of your mind, Evil sneaks by on tiptoes.
Realizing the folly of your ways;
you choose to walk on a different path.
And in prayers, laced with repentant thoughts,
you beseech God's mercy; yet fear His wrath.
Exposed to God's unconditional love,
Evil's glided facade starts to crumble.
And denouncing Evil for what it is;
you see the light, and no longer stumble.
~ Monotetra form ~
No man's eyes will ever conceive
the things another mind may weave
If this counsel you don't believe
You are naïve You are naïve
What lies behind a masked facade
is oft' unfit to praise and laud
Tread lightly when sipping pernod
Beware the fraud Beware the fraud
One cannot brush away with paint
the darkened soul that's ripe with taint
With deceivers do not acquaint
They ruse and feint They ruse and feint
From mesmeric masks turn away
Treacherous hearts tend to betray
A friend becomes a mocking jay
And you their prey And you their prey
You cannot lift the wicked veil
of the beast with forked tongue and tail
Though legions have tried to assail
To no avail To no avail