Best Call The Shots Poems
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
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
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"
“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)
"Aqualung", Morcheeba
https://youtu.be/xxHL5szgThQ
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.
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
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
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
And...
Sometimes, if you feel just a little bit stronger
You'll hold tight to that goodness, just a little bit longer
minute poem with nonsense words
Stretching, I might be four-foot-six
I've learned to fix
the wixumph jokes
of thoughtless blokes.
Some people are antriphinal -
not short on bull
"Peanut," they yell
"Who cracked your shell?
Perspecitus, 'tis a good word
When thoughts get blurred,
I watch them squirm
at each word worm.
When perspecitus meets wixumph,
I can triumph,
remaining bold -
mood quite controlled.
Vurshotimy! I call the shots,
connect the dots.
When chaps condemn,
toss words to them.
Two minutes with Peanut, no dice.
A little spice
'tworks well enough
to call their bluff.
Humanity is comprised of people of varying skin shades,
white, black, red, brown, olive, and yellow, to name a few.
And amongst every skin color, there are intelligent, stupid,
honest, deceitful, friendly, hateful, hopeful, and depressed people.
Yet they all share one thing: they're all human!
Strangely, we can't relate to one another, although we're all related.
Thus, we form tribes, not families,
but an exclusive circle of like-minded people!
Tribalism is a primal force, segregating cataloged people into groups,
like our people, their people, and those other people!
What is a country? It's merely a group of similar people;
who arm themselves and claim a piece of the Earth as theirs,
erecting invisible borders to keep other people away.
People will always distrust others, because people can't be trusted!
Influential, powerful, wealthy, and shadowy people
call the shots; for they're all unequivocally corrupt people!
People get ostracized for being street people, beggar people,
poor, lazy, discontented, and homeless people.
The people society considers disposable.
These distinctions include the old, young, frightened,
challenged, hungry, and oppressed people.
Political, deranged, delusional, religious, and unscrupulous people
all share one trait: they're loyal only to the tribe they identify with.
These conflicting tribes huddled behind barbed-wire walls
will one day kill all the people; then, there will be no more people!
Resting my thoughts, I look unto Thee
Your peace flows divine
Resting my fears, I can clearly see
My ways, You align
Resting my worries into Thy care
All I need is trust
Resting my sorrows, I say a pray'r
Faith in You is must
Resting my mind, for You see my thoughts
Know me inside out
Resting my plans, for You call the shots
Remove any doubt
Resting, I know You are my Maker
You're the true Shepherd
Knowing You're not a promise breaker
Resting in Your Word
Resting in Your love, I find healing
No scars, I'm made whole
Resting under Your wings, I'm feeling
Rested in my soul.
8th December 2022
For Unseeking Seeker's "Thought Rested Awareness" contest
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
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
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
Release
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
Victory
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 friend.....now let go of me.