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The Best Black Eye Poems

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as the PROPHETS of profits, WE lead and WE’re fair
while WE’re living the life of the poor BILLIONAIRE
– silver yachts, pearly castles, cash (plenty to spare) –
with the world on OUR backs... ah! the burdens WE bear!

being HAVES (not the have-nots) as nature decrees
means WE’re certainly the better (they’re vermin on sleaze).
if they pray for a lift in their dark fantasies,
WE just kick ’em downstairs, get ’em off of their knees.

yes, WE offer great jobs (much too busy OURSELVES!)
for maintaining the toilets, restacking the shelves,
and WE teach ’em to fear god and play with the elves,
thus dispelling ideas where the dark demon delves.

though they build mighty bridges, twin towers and more,
peddle pizzas and popcorn, sell guns door-to-door,
still they gotta have BOSSES to tell ’em the score
else WE’d never be needed, WE’d thrive nevermore.

when OUR profits are plunging, they do their part too
for they dine on the dole! yes, no hullabaloo!
soon OUR fortunes  redouble, rebound and accrue –
since WE fare well without ’em, WE bid ’em adieu.

’stead of wishing for welfare and standing in queues
or parading with pickets (look! holes in their shoes!),
they’d be better off scabbing to save union dues.
while WE whistle and warble, they’re singing the blues.

whether heroes or hoboes, like spiders and lice
they just crawl all around us in life’s paradise,
but WE’re patient, big hearted and oft sacrifice,
spewing charity, kindness (though each has its price).

if they’re beaten or punctured or suffer assault,
are unhealthy or crippled or walk with a halt,
or retarded or helpless, it’s all their own fault – 
just like US they should worship the DOLLAR exalt’!

protesters and loud mouths, you’ll find ’em aplenty
some older, some younger, the worst not yet twenty.
they’re shameless and brazen (unwashed, soiled and scenty)
impugning the prestige of brave COGNOSCENTI.

if they’ve got clashing colors (or shades in between)
or opposing beliefs in the hidden unseen, 
well, WE’ll always exploit it, deflecting their spleen,
for with god on each side, would WE dare intervene?

WE maintain many methods to keep ’em in chains –
daily rags and the tube spin OUR circus campaigns:
“to pretend you’ve a voice”, an announcement explains,
“you can vote and decide on which ONE of US reigns”.

OUR policemen protect US, they stay on the ball
(they arrest ’em, no questions per law’s protocol,
and then jam ’em in jail with their backs to the wall) –
if you’ve lucre for lawyers there’s justice for all.

down the ROYAL road of justice WE march all alone 
– WE condemn their defiance, set ways to atone –
since WE’re sinless, unsullied, WE cast the first stone
(while WE cloak REGAL fetor with eau de cologne).

politicians, bald bankers, grand idols galore,
attend meetings, fete banquets in which they explore
how to rid US of rodents (the weak and the poor) –
well, just round up the riff-raff, dispatch ’em to war!

ah! OUR wars are, well, just...... just a thing of the past
........... and the present............... and future... WE sure make them last!
if they frown as they gaze (Armageddon!) aghast,
then WE smile back with pleasure, OUR treasures amassed.

useless ranting and raving (in rags, when they’re clad),
leads to losing their teeth (my! their gums are... egad!).
WE’re unselfish, indulgent, WE’d never be mad
if they drowned in the sounds of themselves feeling sad.

as the paupers are princes in midnight’s domain,
they have pipe dreams to lose, certainly nothing to gain
if they’re hoping OUR fortunes will wither and wane –
for “WE’re here by god’s will” as WE often explain.

yes, they wish to be US, with OUR wisdom and grace,
keeping up with ol’ CROESUS, maintaining the pace.   
but perverseness or rancor? they’ll see not a trace –
for WE hold ’em at bay with a fist in the face.

WE’re la CRÈME de la CRÈME, yes! the proud UPPER CRUST,
and OUR clothes are the finest, OUR hair never mussed –
WE imbue ’em with piety, duty and trust 
and they’re fed bread and water (if feed ’em WE must).

but they’re thieving, aggrieved, want a piece of OUR PIE
and request WE endure ’em, see EYE to black eye.
since they live in OUR land where OUR strict rules apply,
they must feast on the crumbs that We cast to the sty.

though OUR largesse and bounty WE don’t mean to flaunt,
yet the pittance WE pay ’em they surely can vaunt –
salty peanuts and pretzels (what more could they want?)
thereby keeping their kiddies so healthily gaunt.

yes, there’s room for the rabble (the back of the bus)
’cause WE treat ’em like equals, so what’s all the fuss?
all can rise to the top (yes! it’s always been thus),
to the suites in OUR penthouse (to sweep up and dust).

while OUR CHILDREN have tutors, the finest of schools
(being bred for the forefront, THEY’re nobody’s fools),
their own school of hard knocks teaches: “follow the rules”,
building brawn ’stead of brains and broad backs strong as mules’.

and to keep ’em in line (to ensure WE prevail)
WE now monitor phone calls and read all their mail
(civil rights? what a notion! at best a detail!)
and if worse comes to worst...... well...... guantanamo jail!

WE’ve OUR quandaries and questions and headaches full blown
(like deciding design and decor of OUR throne...
whether diamonds or rubies... to gemstones WE’re prone) .
when WE deign to appease ’em, WE chuck ’em a bone.

now you know all OUR problems, OUR pains and travails
– like preparing foreclosures, evictions  and sales –
but WE’ve no need for worries or gnawed fingernails,
’cause WE’re sailing OUR yachts through tempestuous gales
(with them bailing OUR banks when OUR stock market fails)
sipping daiquiri sours, champagnes, ginger ales.

Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013

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You with the black eye
You all bruised and blue
You with dried blood and no hope
You who climbs and plays
You who feels hungers pain
You who was born into the rain
You who never saw a rainbow
You who is all of four years old

Rescued at last from satan's helpers grasp

Little child who suffered so
You so sadly found your parents were foe
You have been restrained in bondage
By the blackness of human shame
Tears rains down
Thinking why the devil plays such games
Deep purple bruising, 
Only the surface pain
May your first four years
Never exist again

May a thousand cuddly hugs
and a thousand loving smiles
Blanket your heart and tickle your tummy
You are gods little angel
Safe and sound at last

* see notes

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

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I Hope It Never Ends

The winds here.
It's come to whisper secrets
And blow my words all to the grounds. 
There go all my papers, 
They never had a reason or rhyme.

I'm wishing you would call me
And spare me a short story,
I can't seem to find the mind to like any of mine. 
I'll hit you with a sarcastic punch line
And leave you with a black eye of regret.

Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said.
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said.
I hope it never ends. 

I'm here.
I'm burning like a birthday candle;
Blow me out and make a wish. 
Oh so now you're not happy here.
I can't just relight myself, you can try again next year.

She's wishing that I would stop my writing,
But that's not what I like and I strike twice like lightning.
And the lighting doesn't help the situation.
It's cold in here and she's wearing my good sweater.
I start to feel a bit better when I get it back and it smells like her. 

Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said.
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said,
My favorite loving friend.

And you know that all my works about you
And all my doubts about you,
You know it never ends, you know it never ends. 
And she hates every one of my songs,
But I can't be in the wrong.
Stop hanging on a chorus.
I didn't know that you were so porous
And that I could sink in so deep.
I really should sing with a disclaimer.
She hates all of my songs but can you blame her,
Can you blame her?

Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said.
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said,
My favorite loving friend.
I hope it never ends,
I hope it never ends.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2012

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Never Again

Silently, she lies there listening to sirens off in the distance, 
On the bed where they just recently enjoyed each other’s passion.
The neighborhood dogs, barking at the noise in the night, are taken inside by their owners.
Tears streak down her cheeks knowing that never again would she make love to him.

Never again would they kiss and make up;
Never again would they laugh together until it hurt;
Never again would she stare intently into his deep, dark eyes;
Never again would she cuddle with him in the dark of the night;

Never again would he strike her in anger;
Never again would he leave bruises all over her body;
Never again would he overpower her with his brute strength;
Never again would she lie about how she got another black eye.

She loved him too much to find fault with his behavior;
Surely, somehow, she must have deserved the full force of his wrath.
She hated him too much to continue to endure the pitiful look in his eyes
As if asking, why do you allow me to treat you like a whore?

Flashing lights of blue and red reflected off the corners of the bedroom wall.
Neighbors, dressed in bathrobes, pointed the police officers to the window of her room.
The gun which pierced the silence of the night with six rapid, successive blasts
Slipped from her fingers, landing on the floor next to the lifeless body of her man.

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010

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Old King Troll Had a very long pole And a very long pole had he He called for his wife (she’s his trouble and strife) And he called for his mistresses three King Troll sat in the middle … his wife said you’re on the fiddle This fact King Troll couldn’t deny All the women took a swipe at him and gave him a black eye! Alexis challenged me to do a parody of Old King Cole nursery rhyme 10~03~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

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Fists fly
Black eye


Written for WRITE A FOOTLE contest sponsored by Judy Konos

~awarded 1st place~

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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In the Playground

In the Playground

Fists fly
Black eye

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
'One Footle Only' Contest
Sponsored by Judy Konos 
Placed 1st				
© 29th October 2017

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2017

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Please Critique What I Wrote

By Elton Camp

Many times I’ve gotten this request
To politely refuse, I’ve learned is best

“Your honest opinion is what I ask”
Actual desire for praise does mask

Dare to say anything but “It’s great”
And your very guts they will hate

Any criticism will drive them wild
Almost as if you slapped their child

It has more faults than a dog has fleas
Yet lavish praise is all that will please

You can know that the writer will say,
“What makes you a critic anyway!”

“You are as presumptuous as can be
To say such insulting things to me.”

He’s forgotten he made the request
Now it is you who’s put to the test

If, to critique a work, you dare try
Expect broken bones and black eye

Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2014

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For The Irish

 Proud fathers  and relatives of the past.
Ghost's of thoose first Irish americans.
Eventhough the ignorant tried  to kill us 
still we did last.

Using  are fists and breaking are backs.
from New York to Boston.
Green blood dries in the tracks.

Beautiful Island of green we left  yet still
within are souls you stay.
From Belfast  to Dublin In croweded streets
were children play.

Some call us paddy the brave few dare say mic.
Hate filled people casting stones 
at the weak and sick.

As we viewed a new promise  we 
were  met with a black eye.
But from the church to the pud.
The Irish were to strong to die.

And for all thoose who fought so I my
may talk to you from this stool I sit.
I promise you children of Eran  .
I shall never quit.

So may the people dance and sing while the whiskey 
does flow.
Let the young carry the torch 
so all may know.

from shamrocks to St Patricks day.
Weve come to far.  
So we shall never go away.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

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On The Road To Vezalay Part 2

The Holy Land

The butchers slab of Hell, of Christian and Infidel.
Swords slash and cut lose the soul, fear! not 
conscience pays the toll. And yet with battles
endless plight, the cut and thrust, ferocious might.
For all the dark one ray of light, that gentle kiss 
one moonlit night.
Antioch, no quarter asked no quarter given, the
sword from blood to bone is driven. Then in the 
twinkling of an eye, the pain a sickening cry. Thud
the arrow hit my chest, piecing bone and armoured 
vest. From horse to earth I did fall, with failing 
breath her name did call.
And there he stood with coal black eye, be still
Christian or you will die. The arrow is close to 
heart, I must remove less the poison start. With
those words I drift to sleep, back to Avalon and
a promise keep. Was it hours or was it days, the
Devil tricks and mind it plays. When I woke he
was kneeling east, offering prayer to man and
beast. He saw me said rest Christian your heart
is sweet, it is full of love but incomplete. A
greener land and softer hue awaits, it is not we 
who control our fates. Pray tell me what's your 
name, he said call me friend are we not the same.
Jealousy and greed corrupt our aim, in our Gods
name we create our shame. He gave me rest he
gave me balm, kept the fire and kept me warm. 
I asked him why. He gave me that soft dark eyed
look, he said Christian it's all about a book. A man
who stopped to aid an injured man, a man ignored
by his own country men. Yes I said the good 
Samaritan, and my book has these stories to.
Your stronger now your wound has healed, time
to leave this foreign field. My family awaits with 
open arms, peace and warmth and all its charms.
I clenched his hands and kissed his cheek, as if
brothers in words did speak.

Copyright © Daniel Cheeseman | Year Posted 2010

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You are one cruel hearted man.
One too many for my life span.

You have inflicted one too many abuses.
I am so tired of your lousy excuses!

Whether it be with your mouth, fist, or actions
You found ways to punish for imagined infractions.

It sickens me that I did not leave as soon
As I realized that you always sing the same tune.

You claim that I don't love you enough.
I am not falling for that bit of fluff.

The truth is, it is you that doesn't know how to love
Go on you know this is true what I speak of.

Wrapping your hands around my neck to choke
Because you did not like what I had spoke.

You giving me a black eye
Because you assume what I say is a lie.

Some one says a victim that makes me.
Well I guess we shall see.

I no longer want to be thought of as that.
Survivor...yes I have that down pat.

I survived your endless abuses.
I survived all those bruises. NO!!!
SURVIVOR that is me. Way to go.

Copyright © Kristy De La Keur Scoville | Year Posted 2009

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Party Favors

Spin the bottle ...
give some unlucky lips a drunken kiss
Pin the tail on the donkey; 
though you didn’t miss 
on purpose you bosom grope insist,
when you stagger slipped
Tilt the bottle ...
pour liquid social stumbles into short cups
Place your hand on a spandex rear end,
and get a five-finger hard slap on cheek rebuff
Now some hubby is miffed
Romance the bottle ...
as you begin serenading the lamp,
the room starts spinning darkly too
Then you go doggy low,
and heave-ho on the carpet floor
Wiping your mouth 
on some pretty leggings,
sitting on a barstool nearby you
That gets you the bouncer lift
Don’t give party favors
nobody asked for
Or you might get a swift boot in the behind,
and a hard kick out the door
Even worse, 
you might get a sore jaw
and a liniment-approved black eye
Gaze into the crystal bottle ...
and understand the pariah reason why

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018

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This is about the three, who had a master's degree, very snooty and got great glee treating people crappy.

They stayed busy as a bee with plenty of money, couldn't see the forest for the trees, they remained peewee.

Couldn't figure why life had gone awry, even though they were very sly life kept giving them a black eye, they were petrified.

Life had put 'em on their knees. Then they started to foresee life's not just about the three. So they made a decree and became devotees.

Then kissed the old self goodbye, the wrong they rectified, life became clear skies.

Now if you don't want to be the fall guy, getting high on your own supply while life is keeping you on stand by. Then you.must come to agree. Life is the Queen Bee and there's much more to life than the three.I, My...ME!

Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2018

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School day hell

They called it school
I called it hell 
From the huge imposing prison like doors
To the doom like toll of the bell
Everyday the same
Running for the school bus
Full of uncivilized Wild kids
Being pushed and shoved
Countless kids in uniform
Fearing the teachers and the day they were born
Satchel bags and lucky bags
Late for lessons again 
Going to the headmasters office 
For the cane ooh how my bum was in pain
Teacher at the blackboard
Pupils getting bored thinking about girls
Motorbikes and cars
Playing football in the yard
Playing sports in skirts and shorts
The one too big that moma bought
School desks fountain pens and ink
Boy how some of my classmates did stink
Trying to blow up the science lab
Bubbly gum and sherbert dabs
Giggling girls and bashful boys
Girls jutting out everywhere
Pigtails and ribbon on their hair
Always getting into a fight
Going home with a torn blazer and black eye every night
Lots of kisses on my homework
Rolling about in the dirt
Pouring ink into the headmasters aquarium
Holes in your trouser bum
Crafty cigarette hidden behind a wall
Morning assembly in the hall
School dinners you couldn't pick
Forced down your throat and made you sick
Being punished and kept behind doing lines
I must have wrote 'I must be good' a million times
Frog spawn put into teachers bag
Gas taps left on in the lab
The school nurse giving you a jab
Riot breaks out in class Running a race on sports day and coming last
Pea shooter and catapult Pulling your tongue out and being rude to adults
First love and nervous thumbled kiss
Girls with new sticky out bits
Hair growing in places it didn't before
Limbs aching and so sore
Always in trouble up to no good playing truant in the wood
Letting the tiers down on the headmasters car
Girls wearing training bra's
Exams were such a sham but wrote the answers under the bandage on my 
hand Teachers talking about things I didn't understand
What a waste of time I was going to be a pop star and soon a man
Those daydreams  of youth that still remain aloof
Hiding in the bushes watching  girls playing hockey and net ball on the field
I still recall how that used to feel
Long school summer holidays away from hell
School books thrown down the well
Then back to school again to days of terror
And pain up early facing hell.

Peter Dome,copyright.2014. July.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2014

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A Pirates Tale

Black Eyed Jack is a pirate's tale,
the captain of a ship the Mighty Whale.
One day Black Eye and his crew,
the Black Eyed Band of Forty-two,
Set sail out of an evil port,
to take a ship called the Vigilant Fort

"She carries gold", said Black Eyed Jack
"We'll take what's ours and give none back".
The sea was still the moon was bright,
the pirates sat in the blackened night,
when out of the crows nest was hear a shout,
"She's sailing behind, come about!"

Canons were ready starboard and port
but not a sound was heard on the vigilant fort.
"We're taking your ship" tis what Black Jack said
while leaping aboard saw only the dead.

Nothing was seen of Black Eyed Jack again,
tis said his own spirit did him in.

Copyright © Aaron Inman | Year Posted 2008

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School Days

(and long brown stockings) 

I detest these stockings,
they're coarse, brown and ugly.

I hate the garters more;
elastic circles that cut off 
circulation and fail to halt 
the laddering down my skinny legs.

If only . . . I picture myself
in warm jeans and no teasing
from Tommy Rogers.

I put the garters to better use,
roll the repulsive stockings
down around my ankles. 

Tommy taunts,
"Who gave you
jointed toothpicks for legs?"

I lost it.

Now, Tommy has a black eye
and my nose is in the corner.

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

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Jimmy had odds to beat, one he was a black teen and the temptations of big city’s Streets. 
But a single black mother’s determination held his attention sternly,
So he had only Minimal interaction with streets.
He had rickets but Jimmy could catch any ball.
He ran with a gang that like to brawl,
Then he entered a Youth Center where a Mentor introduced him to football.
Pop Warner he’s leader of the team,
Onto High School Football team as runner for TD’s.
Scouts without doubts offered degrees.
Mother’s pleased when he goes to USC, to be toast of the university.
Jimmy rode football like a Hell’s Angel rides his hog.
He played halfback, fullback carrying the ball.
Top backers called, packs of women clawed,
Because for a rental car he ran through a mall.
Sydney was a naive Germany beauty queen, 
Blond haired eyes emerald green. 
Done nothing much since she jumped with the school cheer team.
But she had dreams, being famous on T.V., a celebrity.
But she’s stalled in the Pokipsy Mall,
Serving chili, hamburgers and hotdogs. 
When in comes Jimmy, walking tall, followed by his enthralled.
Each sees the other and head over heels each falls.
Their love, sweet, she felt entitled to be,
With the famous Jimmy.
After their affair they married, two heirs, beach house on Bundy Street,
Her face on T.V. with Jimmy, her dream is complete.
But Jimmy believes in slavery,
Believes possessions are bounty one forever keeps,
And Sydney is his property.
But black eye secrets don’t keep,
So she and her parents agree, divorce Jimmy immediately.
Jimmy falls, fell by divorce when the gavel falls.
But most of all,
He felt affronted by the German goofball in front of media tell-all, 
So he watches her like a hawk, to see with whom she walks.
She saw a new fella who won her heart and Sydney falls.
He wines and dines her many times and shows respect to all. 
So Jimmy waits, pissed off jealousy he has no date, until one night on her Ronald calls.
Greens seethe engulfs Jimmy from head to feet, it shuts off reasoning.
Disrespect for “The Great ME” is all he sees in this rivalry for his property.
He sees she succeeds with this non-minority.
To the door during their adoring greeting Jealousy creeps,
Like Flash he slash the throat of the one he knows,
Then at speed stabs repeatedly the one she greets,
As he tries to flee from Jealousy.

Copyright © Michael Hawk Moore | Year Posted 2014

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A Lot More Than My Ego Got Bruised

Too high
on Rye

Make pass
at Lass

Her date?

Out weighed

BRIEF brawl
Get mauled...

(Loose tooth)

Oh my!
(Black eye)

(Out cold)



I ache
I quake

I heave
I grieve

Poor me

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2015

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I AM a Human Being

Hi I'm a human being
Most of you see that by 2016
But some ignorant people don't see
I am a human being

I was born a boy
But I feel like a girl
When I told my parents how I felt
It really took them for a whirl

They said I was going against the almighty God
I was born with a *****
And that I had to suck it up and deal with it

Because these sinful feelings will go away
And I'll be married with a beautiful woman
And have beautiful kids one day
And we'll disown you if you continue to feel like this

And I had to gather every bit of courage and strength to say
NO! I don't want this
Then then man I called my father put his hand in the fist
He gave me a black eye
Just like that I was unloved
And I was homeless

Hi I'm a human being
And I live in a society where they say
You get what you get and you don't throw a fit
Just deal with it!
They say don't embrace who you are
Or you will NEVER get far
You're an abomination
A failed abortion
You belong in a shallow grave
You're not one of us
But why can't they see

Hi I am a human being
And I have a brain and a heart and a pair of lungs
I have five fingers on each hand
And five toes on each foot
I function just like you and everyone else
So why am I put in hiding for being myself?
Hi I am here and this is me
And I AM
A human being

Side note: Hey guys. Just so I am clear I am NOT a transgender. I am a supporter of the LBGQT community because I believe EVERYONE is entitled to the same rights. Have a good day hope you liked the poem! :)

Copyright © Kyleigh Henderson | Year Posted 2016

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At the Pawn Shop

Clouds roll in to bruise the sky as rain falls from the sun's black eye.
My clothes are sodden within seconds - I dive for the first door that beckons.
The pawn shop smells of age and dust, a heady mix of past and must.
Then, from the door, my tired eyes spy a sight that makes my mouth go dry.
I drip across the wooden floor until I reach the open drawer
sealed with glass to keep away the specks of dirt that might decay
the pair of earrings on display in polished gold with subtle spray
of opalescent stones that dot a tiny pair of celtic knots. 
My mind drifts to faint memories of Nana's fine accessories.
My stunned heart gives a painful squeeze; I know she owned a pair like these. 
Through sudden tears, my vision blurs - I reach into my open purse
for bills to pay the waiting clerk, who stands nearby on high alert.
I clutch the box with shaking hands; my eyes drop tears that fall to fan
across my cheeks in joyful stains - and once outside, I thank the rain.
For Susan's "at the pawn shop" contest

Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013

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A Beauty for Rudy

There was a young man named Rudy.
He prowled bars, looking for booty.

What he thought was a girl,
turned out to be Earl.

But the black eye he got was a beauty!!..

Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014

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Switch Flip

Tappita Tappita Tappita--CLICK
type it all before I spl  it
Cogs snap ripping loose my switch
Reality tilted stilted about to pitch
Your about to meet my true inner B***H!

That filter between wrong and right
Losing focus clean outta sight...
thoughts all screws me all up when we fight
Here's a redbull...get your wings and hit the door;
Fly back to that half off dime store whore

F O U R YEARS nothing but a waste
Of my precious time breath and space
I want absolutely nothing more than to .break. your. FACE!
Do the cha cha on your heart; gather the tiny bits,
Feed them to you slowly like dip on a ritz.

Time to let the anger fade,
you were a sad blind phase...
part of the thrill seeker bad boy craze.
If I had a dollar for every dozen roses
given after every black eye, every time you made me cry.

I'd be able to buy and sell your soul
enough times to fill this seeping hole,
chipped and cracked in my heart...
I guess though it's time we part.
Before I change my mind and cross the killer line. 

Copyright © Amanda Reslink | Year Posted 2014

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Classic Rock N Roll

  Carlo Santana's Black Magic Woman,
in the 60's and 70's gave magic to his 

Drugs were part of this movement it's
fair to say. Getting high for many, 
while listening to their music, was the
common way

   Peace signs, beads, bell bottoms,
psychedelic shirts, desert boots, and
long hair and marijuana, is what was 
in style. Looking back and being part
of that history lifestyle, makes me smile.

   Peace protesters against the draft,
and Vietnam war. Jimi Hendrix, Peter,
Paul and Mary, The Beatles, Bob Dillon
The Beach Boys,Led Zepplin, Rolling
Stones,Elvis,Simon and Garfunkel,
Crosby, Stills, Nash and Neil Young,
Leonard Skynyrd, Eric Clapton, Carly
Simon is all we heard.

They kept our soldiers in Viet Nam 
mentally occupied. It helped them
overcome their stress, and brought
some pleasure to their lives.

Rock N Roll Music had an impact
everywhere.The melodies and lyrics
represented a culture reflecting people,
who really cared. 

  Neil Young, Eric Clapton, Aerosmith,   
Neil Diamond, Barbara Striesand,
Jim Croce made the scene. Years later
Disco and the Bee Gee's came dancing

  Disco died, it didn't last long, during
this time Rock N Roll kept rolling on.

Rush, The Eagles, The Police, Peter
Frampton, Boston, Reo Speedwagon,
Blue OysterCult, Fleetwood Mac, Bob
Seger, Steve Miller band, we listened
to. I can't forget Journey, Bruce
Springsteen, Foreigner or the Who.

  Bon Jovi, Creed, Madonna, Red Chili 
Peppers, Van Halen, Black Eye Peas,
Were hot then. Rock N Roll songs, will
keep on playing, and be appreciated 
over and over again. 

  Time reflects the Lyrics in the songs,
of the good times and the wrongs.
Woodstock brought them all together,
a lasting bond to last forever.. .

  Two more mentioned by my good 
friend John Wulf (John John) he was
there in Viet Nam. Homeward Bound
by Simon and Garfunkel was the 
favorite song with the soldiers. Also
John mentioned The Lion Sleeps
Tonight by the Tokens. I want to thank
John John for this important piece of
information, and most importantly for
his bravery in serving his country. 
Read his comments below. Robert
Lindley also mentioned other groups
that were left out. Please read his
comments below. I also thank Robert
for his valued input.

  I just want to add that the 60's and
70's were my personal favorite years.
I say this because people really cared
about the war and each other. They
were right...

Michael Tor 10/16/2015  Nayda Ivette Negron. Contest: Favorite Music Type

Copyright © michael tor | Year Posted 2015

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Mittens and Madness

Mittens and Madness

If it gets any “hotter”
I’m gonna freeze my *** off.!!!
Minus ten degrees,
wind chill factor minus 35 degrees,
my freakin’ carbon footprint is iced over,
I’m wearing a hat…… the freakin’ house.
It’s all “settled” science.
Kinda like that dispute in fourth grade
was “settled”…..I had a black eye,
a bloody nose, and a torn shirt.
The eye healed, the bleeding stopped,
the shirt got mended,
but I never forgot
the heat of that moment,
the chill of the resolution.
WE…..WE….had to write
five hundred times
“I must not fight in school”.
Dammit, it was his fault.
He took my hat, my mittens,
said it wasn’t that cold out,
only sissies wore mittens.
I felt more like writing
“I must not get my *** kicked in school”.
I never wore mittens again.
If it gets any “colder”
I may have to go buy a pair of mittens
and go kick his ***.

John G. Lawless

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2016

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Your Canvas

Thank you for my fresh black eye;
I won’t need eye shadow tonight.
It also compliments my broken nose;
I touch the white bandage and strike a pose -
Aren’t I beautiful when I’m in pain?
You must think so; you hit me again.
I’m not complaining; I love my split lip,
And the purple bruises on my thighs and hips.
And the cigarette scars on my arms, 
Are like little red tattooed hearts -

And my friends say you don’t care about me - 
Ha! Just look at my body. 
The colors 

are breathtaking...


Copyright © Black Eyed Susan | Year Posted 2012