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Best Call The Shots Poems | Poetry

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The Best Call The Shots Poems

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When Words Cut Like Blades

safe haven for poets once existed till destructive forces came on board those who seek just to hurt others end up harming themselves several such people have inflicted pain here though no one would call them “writers” juvenile antics and hateful comments are their only legacies through profanity and threats digging holes to poetry’s Armageddon alienating those who won’t strike back or resort to petty, personal attacks they say, "You're the most despised among the soup clan" spew lava-like proclamations hold grudges for years when they don't place in a contest where only quality work won evil doers adopt numerous aliases to favorite each of their own poems but poets can easily identify them as their “attempts” at poems all sound the same if one who can’t write, gives you a contest win what is it you have really won their friendship? No, they don’t have friends do you compare your poetry to theirs who wants to share on such a site where mean-spirited people call the shots other places enforce rules to promote civility let your conscience guide you to these sites
August 18, 2014

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014

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Benefits Denied

expendable lives our elderly, sick and poor benefits denied D.C. may call the shots now God is the equalizer
*Written in honor of John Freeman for his contest "Sayings of Wisdom"

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

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Two is company
Three a crowd
A and B call the shots
I'll C my way out

I've become a nuisance 
With the key to their heart
A knee high fence
Setting them apart

They clear with ease
The top of my Hurdle
I'm just a disease
A bothersome girdle 

I gave them a boy
Adopted their man
Then a girl brought joy
They don't understand

They dote on the first
A monster in training
I have been cursed
No need for explaining

A fantasy solution
There's no such thing
Entitlement, illusion
They'll continue to bring

Pick a seat, not a side
A quant little quote
The author was high
When he joyfully wrote

An invisible line
Heavy and thick
Clear to the blind
A blunt, jarring kick

I won't sugar coat
My pen speaks truth
Start building your moat
And digging your boot

Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2016

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The Eagle, the Dove or the Turkey - Which Bird

The Eagle, the Dove or the Turkey: Which Bird?

In January 1784 Benjamin Franklin said,
That “The bald eagle…[was] of bad moral character”; 
Called him poor, lousy and a thief, validated the turkey,
Which, he said, was “a true original native of America."

Although the turkey’s eaten at Thanksgiving, 
And every American should appreciate their life,
It’s beginning to be enjoyed at Christmas time,
About which some religions don't give a hoot, and are not acting.

The dove traditionally signs for peace,
And forever will, all things being said,
And although America is a superpower,
It is not to me, and never will be, the world’s head.

Even though Russia just now is playing with power,
And America may be valid as interacting with it,
The United Nations for me is the force,
To call the shots for how governments should sit.

To me, America, stands for all people,
Any person can emigrate and find a life,
Because its weak and vulnerable are nurtured,
To get a challenge out of strife.

The bald eagle for me, with its wide and large nest,
Should be the symbol of America, with its Great Seal approval,
Because it says to me just anyone has stance,
By that pure white head which its brown body does enhance.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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I can rap

I'm a crip from Compton.
I'm a blood from Watts.
I got an UZI in my hand, and I call the shots.
I got an UZI in my hand, I got my finger on the trigger.
And I'll blow you away cause i'm a mean fuckin ******.
Yes, there is one thing that I can do.
And I can do it a helluva lot better than you.
I can rap!
I can rap all day, I can rap all night.
From the time the sun sets, until morning light.
I can rap real soft, I can rap real hard.
I can rap in the tree in your backyard.
Yes, there is one thing that I can do.
And I can do it a helluva lot better than you.
I can rap!

Copyright © Dan Kitzler | Year Posted 2017

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I Call the Shots Around Here

You must be kidding Game's on and no one called me? Ok, break time's up I've been ignored long enough I call the shots around here ~*~
For Linda's "Baby Babbles" Contest

Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2011

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Life is a challenge, seems it's always a fight
Kept on our toes, fists balled up tight
But every so often there's an ease of its grip
it'll loosen just slightly to present a small dip
Uphill we must climb to notice, it's small but it's bright
To see it so clearly...This break!  What a sight!
To just dive for the opening and coast for a mile
could really help out, even just for a while
But because we're all different, diverse, and unique
moments of clarity, each come when we seek
It's our own burden, to escape to good thoughts
Deciding that sometimes, we 'can' call the shots
Sometimes it's a treasure lost long ago
or maybe some good news, that lifts us up so
Sometimes it is music, that fills us with hope
It can make our heart dance and seemingly float
Sometimes it's a child or a puppy's big eyes
That, just for a moment...make good thoughts arise
Or maybe it's not...what we touch, hear, or see
It could be a feeling that yearns to be free
Just happy to be alive can stop gloom in our head
To realize all the beauty, around us instead
A life must be lived because time 'will' go by
Regardless of worries or stress that we cry
For 'You' are the star, this movie you're in
It's all up to you, embrace where you've been
Sometimes it's best, all the pain to endure
so the good that is 'in' you, can surface so pure
You've been there and made it, don't dwell on the bad
Go for that break, be the light you once had
Sometimes that opening is a sign of some peace
and it's yours to take hold of, for a mile at least
Sometimes, if you feel just a little bit stronger
You'll hold tight to that goodness, just a little bit longer 

Copyright © Okanagan Bell | Year Posted 2016

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John 13: Part 2-Jesus Chooses Judas

            John 13 (Part 2)

And now the hour was well advanced
for Him to take His leave.
He'd go the way His Father said
and leave them all to grieve.

He'd eat the bread His Father gave
(the work that He should do).
He'd give His life for all the world;
His Father gave it, too.

But that the scripture be fulfilled,
He should not eat alone.
One should eat His bread with Him,
and that one of His own.

The scripture said that it should be
whose heel was lifted up –
the one who should deliver Him,
and that way share His cup.

With trespass now forgiven him,
they two could share His bread –
the devil wouldn't call the shots,
but Jesus would instead.

It troubled Him to think of it
(the woe not His alone);
the one He saved would rue his life,
his flesh and, too, his bone.

The servant's not the greater
nor is he that one does send,
but the greater is received
by who receives him in the end.

He told them one should give Him up,
and that one of the twelve.
Although each asked if it was he,
no further did they delve –

except for Simon Peter.
Simon beckoned to his son
to ask of Jesus secretly
which one should be the one.

And after he had asked Him,
the Lord said here's the sign:
the one who gets this sop
when I have dipped it in the wine.

And after He had dipped it,
He gave it to the one
who just then asked the question –
He gave to Simon's son.

Flesh and Blood were given,
and the last became the first:
an end would come to hunger,
an end would come to thirst.

Note: The poem "John 13" is published here on PoetrySoup in three parts to avoid a negative character count on the "Add New Poem" draft page. I divided the poem rather than try to publish it from the draft page with a negative character count. Gary

Copyright © Gary Hughes | Year Posted 2016

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To The Naysayers

To The Naysayers 

I am not your saint;
Nor am I the bad seed.
An angel I ain't;
I have my own creed.

You won't guess my thoughts;
Or predict  what I do.
You don't get to call the shots;
I seek no guru.

I answer to few;
And none will dictate.
I have nothing to prove;
Futile is your need to negate.

Critique me as you see best;
Scrutinize to find some fault.
I laugh at the conquest.
And take you with a grain of salt.

Enigma am I;
No excuses I make.
If you can not mystify;
Then do not partake.

~  Darlene Doll Smith 

Copyright © Darlene Smith | Year Posted 2016

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Two Minutes with Peanut

 minute poem 

Perspeucitous, 'tis a harsh word.
One's thoughts get blurred
and talk turns rude.
Some tend to brood.

Some people are antriphinal -
not short on bull
"Peanut," they yell
"Who cracked your shell?

Stretching, I might be four-foot-six
I've learned to fix
the wixumph jokes
of thoughtless blokes.

When perspeucitous meets wixumph,
I can triumph, 
remaining cold -
mood quite controlled.

Vursichomy! I call the shots,
connect the dots.
When chaps condemn,
toss words to them.

Drives them to the edge - somatrise,
A little spice
'tworks well enough
to call their bluff.

for Brian Johnston's contest - Words - the Heart of Imagination
I used the "minute poem" form and hopefully through the use of nonsense words captured your imagination.

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2012

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There was no space between 
the bonsai.
You were growing in a flat 
tray, spreading horizontally.     

The plain glitter of absence 
brings the unorder. You-

want to start a riot among
the fallen leaves of an autumn.

A civil war between words.
They were fighting without guns.

There are no comments, no
judgement. Only blood in the kitchen.

The surrogates were presented.
Are you ready to call the shots ?

Satish Verma

Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2015

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Delusional Wonderland

Hunkering down within
A sham of Bunker Hill
Not fighting to the death
For freedom rings
You're just another sick sod
Who can't bring himself
To do anything but complain
What a shame goes the cliche
As you keep love whatever is left of at bay
Cause you're too weak
To be vulnerable
You may have to feel!

But if success is in your grasp
You won't be as sweet
For you can't wait to screw it up
With doubt, deceit and disbelief
What a relief your circle has dwindled
You call the shots
No one at the top to blame
Going down further into deep annihilation
Oh, the adulation of megalomania!


Copyright © eric ploscik | Year Posted 2016

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"Awake with Kisses"

To wake up in the morning with a shower of your kisses...
Is like gliding down a wall of chocolate and being covered in bliss...
Your sweet smile on my chest makes my eyes open with a grin...
My hands touch your lower back to feel the soft caress of your skin...
Your hair lightly brushes my stomach as my heart and body knows its fate....
As we close the light and turn off the alarm clock for morning will have to wait...
Our trembling lips find there way as our souls drift into a overflowing pot...
The world is shut out for we are in our space where only we call the shots...
When the smoke has cleared and the fire has tamed we giggle like kids....
We can start our day with smiles and cheer and know that our love always lives...

Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2010

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Let Go Of Me

He's not over it,,I hear from all sides,
Hoping to get answers from other people's eyes,
I won't budge, I won't move,
I refuse to allow him to repeat his abuse,
He'll get over it eventually and hopefully move on,
His stubborn act will subside once I'm gone,
He is the trigger, but I'll call the shots,
Now he's empty handed, because I threw out his darts,
No sport left in his game, nothing to play,
Like a child, he pouts, please come back again,
I don't think so,,,,his game is over,
It would take alot of undoing, he'll have to scare himself sober,
Too many find humor in his rotten behavior,
They feed off his insecurities and keep him unstable,
He tries his hardest to pull me back in,
And I pull away, because that's not who I am,
In a drunken state, he says I envy your heart,
I encouraged him over and over from the start,
You are just as beautiful, can't you see?,
Why do you say such rotten things?,
Why do you hide behind the ugly mask?,
And find joy in others pain, and make fun of their past,
Your heaping hot coals upon your own head,
I love you too much to allow you to lead me to death,
I can only say and do so much, yes, my heart is in pain,
I can love you wholeheartedly, but I can't make you change,
This is how you've chosen to be,
I'm so sorry, my old let go of me.

Copyright © cortney bartholomew | Year Posted 2016

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Yes mom I'll be fine
Don't worry dad I got the combo down
I grab my gloves and head to the ring
Dont forget to cheer loud ok?

My match is next
It's do or die
I wisk away a bead of sweat
And gear up
Time slows

Weighing in at 120 pounds
I don't listen to the words following
Everything is silent
Heart beat steady
The opponent staring me down
I only see a target

With the ring of a bell I am off
Take the offensive my dad said
You call the shots
Jab, cross, hook
Slip, uppercut, evade, right kick
Square out

Steady the pace, youre only 45 seconds in
Clinch, knee one two
I'll never forget that look of defeat given to me by the opponent

The rush of adrenaline soars through my veins
This is the win, take them out
Step to the left, head kick
Sound comes back to me hearing the thud in the ring
They're out

I win
I won
The match is called 

I would give anything
Anything at all
To relive the moment my hand was raised in the air by the ref
To look in the crowd and see the faces of my parents
To know what it feels like to be a champion
To succeed in something you earned
It's the best feeling out there

Copyright © Alex Riker | Year Posted 2014

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Pearl Diving - Part 2

“Pearl Diving” (Part 2)

Angel fish are pretty, but they’re boring that’s they’re lot
the Man O War is far too flashy, frivilous, 
Octupi are too touchy feely always begging for the real thing way too early,
the Dolphins always laugh out loud, they’re overly boisterous show-offs
always trying to call the shots;
perhaps she’s best off lying in her Clamshell tight and small
for she is understanding now 
the Clamshell has cast a spell o’er her
to stop all creatures in the deep from
hijacking her magic powers.  

It’s comfortable and very warm, no need to leave her purse,
how could she leave what’s she’s only ever known behind;
better to sleep forever with the Clamshell as her nurse... 
dream her dreams, 
keep very still -
it couldn’t get much worse.

She’s shiny and she’s aged just right
the Clamshell protects her from the light, 
she’s not a real jewel anymore
she’s a bottled up narcotic bright,
a little white pill zipped up in her hardened purse
to numb out all that sunken hurt.

He swims down to get a deeper look
the sunlight now dappling through the 
hottest deepest lure of blue
thrashes his legs much harder now 
to get the closest view.
He sees the sharks surrounding her 
he checks his dorsal fin
he’s now become a predator 
and she his treasure there within,
to somehow prize and shuck her 
from her clammy milky mucous shell.
Such a beautiful sin he grinned and thought for a nano-second,
“Maybe I can win”.

Somewhere in the distance from the surface way up above,
he hears a mermaid call down to him, her silky voice enticing him, 
her echolocation surrounding him, 
through all those other fish making such a blasted bubbly din,

“It’s mine.” the voice whispers mysteriously in his ears, “ I’m playing this, it's mine, a life to win”.

(Lovejoy-Burton/ December 2017)

Copyright © Leanne Lovejoy-Burton | Year Posted 2017

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Precious yours

Does the world revolve around you?
You bet they do
You are the most important person in the world
To you
And to God
Those are the two you need to aim
To please
If they are not happy
You are not happy
The world can come and please
But only you call the shots
What gets in you
And what comes out of you
You don’t need anyone
You are not an island 
But you are not a city bus either
Let it be known 
That you think and do what you want
And that is not someone’s business
They don’t own you
Speak for you
Or choose your world for you
You decide on how you see things
What it is that appeals to you
What you want to include in your world
Only you would know what it is
That is important to you
You want to make yourself happy
And not someone else first
Because in the end
If you don’t have it
You can’t give it
So take care of yourself
Fill it
Nourish it
Give it what it needs 
To take care of you
And finally take care of others
Remember what goes in 
Eventually come out
So be careful of what you put in
What you call yours
You don’t want just anything
Do you?
Or do you?

Copyright © Toquyen Harrell | Year Posted 2014

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A not-so vague description of my life

If someone asked me for a vague description of my life, I will tell them my life is like sitting at a lunch table with friends and only listening to their conversation and not engaging. My life is like a meal; depression with a side of body issues, and a pinch of anxiety. My life is like a table full of mental issues deliberating which one gets to call the shots for the day. My mind is a mess, and I guess someone forgot to buy a vacuum, because it's never been cleaned. I'm sorry for everyone who has ever gotten me on a bad day, and by that I mean, I'm sorry to anyone who has ever spoken to me. When I feel tired of existing, my favorite thing to do is stare at the ceiling and try to disappear. It never works, if you were wondering. I feel like the only thing I ever do is exist. I'm stuck doing something I hate for the rest of my life. Just my luck, huh? I fear asking questions so much that this day, I still don't know the name of my Elementary's counselor. I'm not quite sure, but I think it might have had the letter V in it? I know I have no right to feel like this when I'm surrounded by amazing freaking people, but I just can't help it, for some unknown reason. Which makes me feel like a fake. Like the crying myself to sleep, is all a desperate plea for attention, that I'm just being melodramatic. That I'll grow out of it. I wonder if people can see behind it all. Behind the smile, report card, and pretty pictures of me and my friends. Every time a stranger stares at me, I fear they know all my secrets. I fear that they've figured me out. But at the same time, I find peace in the very fact that they might have. Silly, I know. I've never been hurt by anyone more than I've ever been hurt by myself. I wish I could just take the life that I have and live, but I can't. As a matter of fact, I'm terrified of the day I do, if I ever. But I won't get into that. Anyway, thank you for listening to an uncalled for, unwanted not- so vague description of my life.

Copyright © Sade Velazquez | Year Posted 2018

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Horror Fans

blood dripping, axe swinging, gun shooting, lives hanging.
Call the shots, save the lives, make it worth while.
Addicting, exciting, scaring, deciding.
What will the outcome be?? Will evil prevail?
sychopaths, druggies, abused, deadly.
Lost love and never found their path again.
There are legends, there are fatalities, there are choices.
Artists, within a screen, exhilerating, breath taking.
Some clear out of the shots make the story, what it is.
Blood dripping, oozying, running, draining.
Screaming, crying, dreaming, dieing.
The artist purely a fan in such a disasterous element.
A little bit of demon, little bit of sickness, of masterminds, of evil.
Creating Love, art, heart, dreams, books, worlds.

Copyright © Tiffany Julius | Year Posted 2009

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Heart sends brain a gift

Thanks heart I got your gift
It came through the blood stream
It wasn’t the usual none sense it was wrapped real neat

I gave it a shake and wondered what it could be
And then I remembered the restraining order
It wasn’t going to be a present was it?

Look I am sorry things didn’t work out with her
But you can’t blame me I just call the shots
Its difficult, under pressure I just do what I thinks right

Could you please arrange for this bomb to be returned?
I would do this myself but I have my hands full
I have been trying to stop this bloke ending it all

Copyright © Davide Profetti | Year Posted 2008

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so stevie harper closed an
embassy & sent some people
back to Iran, now, you think
that Iran is going to strike


word on the street,
spewing forth out of the mouths
of the world’s policeman
like the most disgusting of
vomit & all its buddies
(and all those ****ing terrified
of it & its little bat*****psychotic
little brother) puking in
unison, is that 
“Iran is the most significant threat to
global peace and security”…


has anybody else heard 
when the big cock swinging US &
its little psychotic brother Israel 
hasn’t said something threatening
about taking action against Iran,
or enforced more sanctions,
or launched more cyber warfare 
against the country?

(that’s 24 hours)

when the war starts.
when Israel strikes
preemptively, for whatever 
bull*****excuse that they come 
up with that day &
the US starts to vaporize all of the
people of Iran & all the people in
the Middle East, who haven’t 
succumb to their strangling hands
willing to do ANYTHING
in order to squeeze every last drop
of oil out of the region,
when the world is panicking
& doing exactly what it is told
by the sociopaths who call the shots
in washington, when the people
of the empire are more scared than
a thousand 9/11’s & are willing to
submit to a million Patriot Acts,
giving up all their rights & liberties &
bowing down to a police state that
would make Stalin & Hitler 
will you remember these days?

Copyright © andrew delapruch | Year Posted 2012

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Bombs, shots and constant threats.
Hearts pumping, bodies covered in sweat.
Battle grounds painted in red,
Bodies punctured with lead.

A large comfortable leather chair,
A suit, tie and well-groomed  hair.
Laughs, smiles and bodyguards for protection,
A life more or less close to perfection.

Two very different worlds,
One with luxury, in the other violence scales.
Yet those in the world of luxury call the shots,
While those in the other are killed by shots.

Copyright © Hector Leyva | Year Posted 2011

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Mine is a Mystical Garden

Mine is a mystical garden
Sassy marigolds and violets
Red cornflowers spreading their seeds,
Monarchs, wasps and bees reside here.
Pretty hums come from my garden,
Dainty pink and purple petals 
Magical faeries, imps and elves,
Bossy daffodils call the shots,
Roses laugh knowingly at this
Mine is a magical garden

Written 8/27/2018       Poetry Contest                 Sponsor:  Vermillion Scythe

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018