Best By And Large Poems
She mostly sits on the outside looking
into the worlds around her. Day by day
gazing into strong hearts interlocking
with others, bonding in the friendly way.
Her rationale, by and large is to cope
with life as a mom, with a two year old
and the love of a husband giving hope
that neither will be left out in the cold.
She is assured by his drive and his verve.
He - - in return lets her live her own life.
Sometimes her other self loses her nerve:
she revives, being mom, poet and wife
She offers a sonnet for sweet respite,
for life, being young, and living outright
There are many good people from Hollywood. Hollywood is a working class district of L.A. (1 of 42 districts). Celebs don't live there which includes the Epstein ilk. Bad people are all over the place, especially the Red States and their people who voted for the bad leaders. There are bad dictators all over the world, repressing the women, not just in America. I've never heard of KKK members in Hollywood, I have in the Maga States. Let's not bundle all people in Hollywood, that is ignorance!
A good Ambassador Hollywood, to the world along with Jazz music, Hollywood movies, with their dazzling musicals, bright comedies, and intense dramas, and Si Fi, has been the dream maker for the world! Even those working in the movie industry were by and large hard working Americans. Glamorous actors just a tip of the ice berg. For those conservatives, they should remember Regan was a product of Hollywood. Thank you very much.
We were armed at fourteen with BB guns
and reckless abandon.
So started many of our cousinly adventures.
Central Utah has hot, hot summers
and little else going for it.
We took to the sage in shorts and t-shirts
begging the tics to climb aboard.
Lyme disease?
For suckers by suckers.
By and large our hikes were aimless.
We’d shoot lizards if we could…
or any glass objects that were lying around
if we couldn’t.
A fire was needed
in the desert heat
in the middle of the day
because we had a string of fire crackers
and a shortage of common sense.
There was an abundance of combustibles
and we chose the dried up cow pies…
less poop for the dog to eat.
We stacked a few into a pile
then lit it up.
They were Black Cats…
or possibly Lady Fingers.
In either case, they were lame
one at a time.
So we threw them all in at once.
Did you know burning cow manure
and fire crackers
make babies?
Flying, fiery babies of death
with an insatiable appetite
for combustibles.
Neither did we.
We stomped their nest.
Tried to bury it.
We weren’t dummies,
(I know what you’re thinking)
we had built close to water.
So we tried some mud.
Still the babies hatched.
So violently
so noisily
so fire-erly
that we decided it was time to run.
If the world was going up in flames…
we weren’t sticking around.
Armed with BB guns,
we were desert deserters.
We didn’t get far before
the hatching ended.
It turns out
flying, fiery babies of death
have a very high mortality rate
or a very short life span.
We knew it all along…
hell spawn can’t survive here
even in the desert
it’s too cold.
To this very day,
I thank the heavens
that we were only fourteen
and hadn’t had enough money
for more than one string of Black Cats…
or possibly Lady Fingers.
05/08/15
*true story, and I'm happy to still be around to tell it, haha.
In numerous locales countrywide, they hold sway
Pirouetting at intervals like ballerinas from Bolshoi
Beauteous, feline and very feminine
Slender to the point of emaciation, not quite
Cultivating the undernourished look on a frugal diet
Decidedly austere for a longer tenure in the limelight
Basking in the fleeting warmth of an adulatory audience
A gathering of the doting kindred and the upwardly mobile
Some dirty old men on the sly, dirty young men too
Glued to their seats craning for a better view
By and large captive by choice, a handful perforce
Sitting through to pen their weekly column
Giving those they fancy their due in the sun
Witnesses to a parade of demure eyed lasses
And a few with flashy looks walking tall on stilettos
Essentially female and contoured though not prominently so
At least not to a marked degree, yet with excellent muscle tone
Opulence, no longer deemed a career necessity
Once considered right stuff, now rejected as wrong size
An hour-glass shape belonging to an age bygone
But hardly so, from the viewers’ mind, in retrospect
Enchanting and alluring yet not overtly titillating
Each in a state of dress and undress
Willing tools of designers flaunting their creations
Sporting dresses and hats and shoes, and lingerie too
In black or white and loud or subdued hues
Displaying formal wear, casual wear, swimsuits and sleep suits
Some scanty and figure hugging, others flowing and loose
A bony look required for some, others fulsome
A voyeur’s paradise, to be sure
Indulging a fetish without stooping too low
Chilly weather was never reason enough to cancel a show
Heat of arc-lamps taking care of goose pimples
Or brandy taken neat infusing the needed heat
Harbingers of tomorrow’s fashion and pall-bearers of today’s
The strobe lit platform of the pageant
Serving to launch new faces or is it legs?
The leggy look personified by Twiggy of yore
Carried through in the interim and sustained by the new genre
Captivating without doubt, and thorough professionals
Displaying unruffled demeanour and tutored bearing of thoroughbreds
Exuding confidence with every graceful step they take
Cool as ice despite the harsh glare of stage lights
And callous catcalls from boorish males
Performing in a backdrop of future fashion trends
Money and fame finding some, eluding others
Be it centre stage or in the shadows
It is bread on the catwalk for all
They're known by many names - taters, potatos, pertaters and spuds.
As a Hoosier lad I toiled hoein' taters and flickin' bugs off their buds!
So I was very well qualified when I entered the service, by and large,
When 'volunteered' for kitchen police to peel taters by a mean old sarge!
There's even a National Potato Day observed with tumultuous celebration,
With a Potato Queen, parades and other such nonsense across the nation!
Politicos pontificate about the virtues of taters 'specially in Idaho and Maine,
Where they transport them to our kitchen tables by truck, plane and train.
There was a national debate on how to spell potato with or sans an 'e'!
Dan Quayle didn't know how but I would've spelled it 'tater' if it were up to me!
Some taters have a patriotic bent since some are called reds, whites and blues!
Other varieties are yellows, fingers and russets from which you may choose.
To fill a feller's paunch the lowly tater can be mashed, diced or sliced.
You can make a tater salad or tater soup though you'll want them lightly spiced!
Taters roasted on the grille or scalloped tater casseroles will go with anything.
Barbeque tater chips or French fried taters with hamburgers are just the thing!
Mom would've been horrified to find lumps in her taters when company came!
In cafes today lumps are cela va sans dire s'il vous plait and is their claim to fame!
No matter how you slice 'em, taters are savored by commoner and king as well!
And you can argue 'bout the spellin' of 'potato' but 'tater' you can easily spell!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
By and large I sense they're all reverting
back to primitive indulgences of hobbesian violence, the ferocious world in which they dwell.
They throw cornerstones of their belief system at me, blind sighted rocks dig under my skin.
In defense of love I counterattack.
Pointless to fight their undercurrent of anger,
the immense self hatred from which they teach.
I just see their world as very different,
warm detachment serves me as they seethe.
Maybe the truth is they’re hurting.
Maybe a deeper truth, they only hurt themselves.
Yet I must never interfere with their pain, they are not my burden.
My only goal is to step back.
Mindful to watch their devotion to hateful monsters,
these separated souls I someday hope to reach.
Yet a patient loving mind feels no deterrent,
so I only give them space in which to breathe.
Limerick: Once Cute Pute in Gay Paris called Miel
Once Cute Pute* in Gay Paris called Miel*
Plied her trade around a Ferris Wheel
Rode them roller coaster
Spun them on wheel later
Got lush cut on fines for police squeal!*
• Pute: stands for “prostitute” in French
• Miel: for “honey” in French
• A new French Bill, dated December 7, 2011,
proposes the fining of prostitutes’ clients. French law,
by and large, tolerates the profession, even if overt
solicitation, procuring, and prostitution of minors
IS NOT. According to French law, sexual maturity
is recognised at 15, but for prostitutes 18 is the
legitimate age. Prison sentences range from 2 to 7
for related offences, and fines can run up to €100,000.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
My Garden
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
My garden I want it best.
Rain makes it unforgettable.
Your memory there should last forever.
My garden should be a nice guy
Like the bosom of a lovely lass
I want to touch.
Sunflower formely seed ..
Oh sunflower yellow bright treat.
Eden I defy my jasmin is choicer
Lillys peeled and spread in ringent white
Agapanthus devoir and set in blues of wonder.
Roses colour bloom and ready to jab
All along the daffodils waiting to thrill.
Crimson carnations no regrets of love lost
Just a new flame in me and passion wise.
Strelitzia magnificent in a kaleidoscope of five.
Hyacinth by and large how high will you grow ?
My garden a mix bouquet of anniversarys
A showcase in celebration.
If my imagination behind these bars
Let me touch them .. once i was free.
Free to wander
How wonderful my garden ..
Free to ponder
Or nothing.
The Jihadi’s got an entire hour to kill
Hundreds of helpless patrons shocked and awed
An eon of murderous rage until
The long awaited reward from his “god”
Like schools, this Orlando bar predictably
Missing the one thing mass shootings lack
It’s no longer much of a gallery
When the intended sitting ducks shoot back
Ideology of disarmament
To some people, a feather in their caps
Yet it's to your eternal detriment
If mind-bending hatred falls in your laps
Hamstrung by their protocols, by and large
Officers stuck on perimeter, of course
No matter how they may want to charge
They are the police, not Delta Force
For a solution, this nation divided
Starkly different views on reality
The most effective measure derided
In its place, a plea to authority
When it goes down like this in disarmed France
To me it’s just as clear as a crystal
If innocent lives are to have a chance
Hear the message of the Pink Pistols
Brave by any measure to come out twice
First gay, then pro armed defense
Their deepest truths, no human price
Unwilling to appease or ride the fence
Helplessness has never stopped a rampage
There’s no reason to think it ever will
Only equal force can stop the carnage
When evil men have decided to kill
6/13/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
I'm in charge of everything.
It's my responsibility,
To keep control of everything,
Maintaining the tranquility,
Of everything and everyone,
And see that all runs well;
For this workplace is my domain,
I watch the rise and swell,
Of all the comp'ny's status quo,
And employee relations,
Making sure that everyone,
Is mindful of their station.
My shift will be the perfect one,
And if not heads will roll.
I want to see a perfect score,
When tallying day's toll.
The boss must know it's not just that,
I'm so dependable,
I'm more than just a pretty face,
I'm indispensable.
The boss must see that I'm the one,
Who runs things by and large;
A well oiled machine is this,
Because I am in charge.
Judy Ball
Sometimes in an effort to do a good job and gain the respect of our superiors we tend to forget what's really important. While it's iimportant to do your job to the best of your ability we must remember that the mark of a good leader is the ability to shoulder authority without growing muscles in your head. ;p
. Mouser.
The distillery cat was flat on his back
He’d had too much to drink.
The silly moggy his mind was foggy
He could hardly think.
It was thee day he was on his way
His time was really up.
The rules require he must retire
So he had drunk from the goodbye cup!
Those little mice they didn’t think twice
they quickly ran amok
And in no time felt quite sublime
Could not believe their luck!
Tails in the air, Mouser so unaware
Their party had began.
For life’s a must, much was discussed
Like an employee ownership plan.
“Imagine if, Mouser was a stiff
And we all ruled this place,
By and large we’d be in charge
Something we could all embrace.”
But just at that appeared a Rat,
You know what they all say.
You’re never more than through a door
Away from their decay.
“Well gee whiz, so what is this
We have an open house.”
He said with grin, “I’ll just move in
And go and get my spouse.”
The mice felt down and wore a frown
And thought we can’t have this,
Awake that cat from off his mat
Get him out his drunken bliss.
So it was to great applause
He had ended up quite upset,
They’d got the hose and gave a dose
Of water cold and wet!
Mouser howled then he scowled
Jumped up and cried aloud,
“I’ll get those mice they are my vice
They will end up in a shroud.”
The mice did flee with so much glee
The Rat it disappeared.
Mousers head felt like stale bread
His paws they went real weird.
And so it was, like an arbitration clause
Came in the Big Bad Boss.
“What’s all this noise I don’t enjoys,
I prefer a hearing loss!”
So Mouser stayed, a big blockade
And the mice he tipped a wink,
The big brown Rat, he don’t like a cat
That’s had too much to drink!
Now drink can make you think
It can feel good alright.
Whiskey can make you frisky
But it can also make you fight!
For a Scottish cat enjoys combat
As much as a Father loves his daughter,
Although there is a cure,
maybe it is obscure,
We could of course add water!
a trilonnet
Take honesty, really does it matter?
By evasion truth can be suppressed.
Lies are critical in the new world view.
If it serves the cause, who cares if it’s true?
How do you expect one to keep abreast
with all that’s on a partisan platter?
Changing the question with so much natter
has thrown me when I’ve cheated in the past,
leaves a gut feeling that threats will ensue.
Though I have not always thought this one through,
by and large, candid stands up to the test.
Cunning or candor, I'll take the latter.
I know, and I know another who knows;
when life is over, it’s truth He'll expose.
by Reason A. Poteet
revision of an earlier 5 minute challenge piece - Honesty
written with more structure as a triolonnet
for the final piece, see Honesty, Take Three
The eastern countries got their problems
In massive poverty and in huge ignorance
By and large yet they live in relative peace
The west has many triumphant points
In their achievements to show the world
In their fortunes, science and technology
Yet they are the part and parcels of each trouble
The world has ever seen in its own global level
First it has seen the devastation of humanity
In the First World War in such a scale that
Never had been seen before in entire history
And in the First World War hidden was the seed
Of the Second World War and what it brought
For the entire human civilisation, I think it was
Beyond anyone’s estimation or anyone’s thought
They were the cause and they found the solution
At the cost of their own fault and felt the urge
To form a League of Nations or United Nations
The colour of a piece of coal never goes away
Whatever you may try, it will remain the same,
The addiction of domination again brings them
Another massive wrong when they plant a nation
In the soil of another nation and this wrong is the root
Of each and every war and terror in the entire world
But by these trouble makers of the past and the present
This simple point of every trouble is never understood
Hear me mates, before its too late.'
Get awake..Not woke! It'll send you broke.)
I have cried in anger.' In sadess and rage.'
At the counrys humilliation, and the world its stage
Its time to leave ideaologys that steal great
Aussie values.' Cue labour liberals greens and the teals!
Go and study the 1980s.' Though there were still fools
In charge.' The people were more involved in actions
By and large.' Put away navel gazing. And disengage.'
From the quackery and e u foolery.' And useless tirades'
In all states and territory, can you just say g'day? Embrace
Your true heros.' Listen to what they say.' I think of Hobart
And Patterson, Bosi' Latter and Hoody.' Culleton and
Rennik and Antic; another goody.' Smit; and krystal, iyah, Claire Woodly too.' stand
With them Australia." And get back to ( true blue!)
While I take to the road for a mission
Anxiety rivets me to my direction
It causes me to ponder and be calm
As a byword for courage and wisdom.
It is a wee bit harder to do
By living the “now” in the ministry
I move on to discover and listen
With a smile and say you’re welcome.
A sense of understanding drives me along
To the path where conversion occurs
And being an Asian by and large
Allows me to ensconce in this life.
There may be some pains and ill-feelings
Over the length of my experience
But I make a profound commitment
That echoes the so-called perseverance.
In moments of despondency, sufferings, and annoyance
The eye of the heart greets me with endurance
Just as I restore its meaning
Hope appears and brings the difference.
It is a gift to our freedom
Through reflection in depth.
This permeates my whole vision of life
To go beyond and hand on to God.
Fidelity to the gospel calls me
Directs me to the Source
Whose inner meaning becomes transparent
In my priestly and missionary work.
It is a call, a role to play
I can risk going face to face
With God who is the cause of all
To be a servant to his people.