Best Cashed Poems
our
time
cashed out
way before
the meter expired
sending our dreams somersaulting
helter skelter to the whims of what never was planned
leaving fairy tales breathless, our favorite song, weeping still, in the landfill of love
The Hurdles of Forgiveness
Forgiveness is a skill, a strength
because it is born out of character
and does not come easy.
It is a mountain encountered on life’s road,
a steep climb to condonation,
reaching the summit to find peace and healing
waiting to embrace you.
Without forgiveness, there can be no peace.
Forgiveness is a choice, an attitude
which must be learned.
unlocking chains of bitterness and resentment
allowing the spirit to soar free.
Forgiveness is a check, ripped in half
cashed only by the mind,
satisfying all debts.
It is the needle that mends the soul.
Forgiveness is love.
While lying in my bed - late last night
I felt this vibe - something's not right
I turned and I twisted - I just couldn't rest
There was something inside me - a pain in my chest
So I got out of my bed - and I went to my sink
I thought it be best - to get me a drink
Then I sat in my chair - and to myself I had said
"I know what it is - it's something I read"
Before I cashed in - I read one last poem
From someone named Robert - I don't really know em
But I was reading his comment - sad news of his wife
She's now up in heaven - after a very long life
When I read they were married - for sixty six years
I just couldn't help - but shed me some tears
So I've written this poem - that I pulled from my heart
For Robert to smile - and for he to take part
So I'm sending my prayers - and I'm sending some love
May she rest in peace - way up high, in heaven....above
(Blessings)
Dedicated to Mr. Robert Hinshaw
7/24/2018
I want to shop on Valentine's
but haven't got a date.
I'd buy myself some roses
if it wasn't for I'm straight.
Some chocolate hearts would fill my gut
and card say "I Love You".
But signing it would be in vain
and thanks would never do.
Coupons for a hug and kiss
would make my rainy day.
But everytime I cashed one in
I'd feel a littly gay.
Letters written to my love
would only creep me out.
And knowing they were meant for me
would surely leave no doubt.
Songs of love would fill my heart
if it was meant to be.
But knowing I'm a single guy
would make me want to flee.
Home cooked meals would seal the deal
and I could eat for two.
Until I'm fat and throw me back.
And still have plenty to chew.
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
The orator grins at his drunken audience through make up and mask
Opens the cabaret’s veil in the theatre of forsaken minds on the run
Champagne flows from magic fountains while Berlin falters from grace
The wild thirties dance to an apocalyptic sound of paralized conscience
Outside the toothbrush moustache commandeers Svastika’s march
Torches set light to mislead passion and houses of semitic prayer
Crystal breaks as brown shirts parade their poisonous conquest
Heil to the savage Führer when ‘reality is something to rise above’
Pirouettes swirl on stilettos while boots squash compassion and lives
Caviar evades judeo-bolshevik scapegoats and trains to the camps
Blond blue-eyed conception born to inhabit Lebensraum on the map
Feeds into industrialist’s dream of war effort and armoured production
The white flag of surrender stuck into skull bones and belligerent stride
No meaningful rise of resistance only raised arms and ‘following orders’
When God capitulated and sang his swan song to the sound of hell fire
And prophets of doom cashed in on gas chambers and golden teeth
It’s easy in hindsight to lift the pen from an immaculate ink-pot of courage
But where would I have been when ashes in Auschwitz were ascending
When evil tore into the last bit of humanity in a vile coup of disgrace
As I look into the mirror of history I reflect on the cowardice in my soul
21st February 2020
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
Line from Cabaret the musical base on Christopher Isherwood’s 'Good-bye to
Berlin'
Theme for the poem ‘Reality is something to rise above' Liza Minelli
Greed is a gambler...dropping the dice...high anxiety rambler
Roller coaster ride...eyes and ears set to extreme
Back and forth up and down...black, blue, and blurred in a blink in the breeze
Jokers always looking for that big jackpot...red lights roar and the sirens scream
Endlessly searching for that sure fire scheme
Stain glass sinner on a winning week
Greed is a gangster...pulling big paper and pushing bad bullets
Hair trigger henchman getting bigger and badder
Rob to get richer...gruesome giant starts to grow
Grabbing and getting...never giving back what he stole
Teardrops on tombstones...still ruthlessly he rolls
Greed is a gold digger...Pearl necklace on a pig
Smooth and sexy swine
Drunk on diamonds and dollars...demoness dressed so divine
Keep taking until it's all took
Corrupt with the coochie...that cutie's a crook
Sweat stains on the silver spoon
Her shadows turn to slaves
Prostitute her pride but she's still getting paid
Greed runs out of gas and leaves it's victims burned and bashed
Lies get told like whips and lashes leaving you cashed out cold just like a hot check
Greed always gets another to do its dark bidding
so it can live longer and keep on sinning
Greed says the grass is always greener on the other side of the hole
Greedy death is what you get when your master is more
Though Cupid was not on the scene
the dame had her very own scheme.
Her gent, she waylaid,
her breasts, she displayed
and cashed in on his Valentine dream.
© 2009 (Jim Sularz)
Quiet mounds of yellowed tailings and dead weeds whisper low.
And proud rusting relics telling tales of striking gold.
The rush from East, from North and South, by wagon, train or foot.
Days not all that long ago, in tall ships made of wood.
“A gold rush struck in ’49, all quite by accident.
A burning fever that cut men to bone, in a sea of dingy tents.
Day and night, they toiled and told, many headed home without a cent.
But some packed out bags of glistening gold, and made a stop at Buzzard’s Breath.
The town’s mud logged street, deep with horse manure, bubbled like a shallow grave.
With a Sheriff’s office, a livery stable, and a church for souls to save.
And a fancy house, on a grassy knoll – sign read, “Madam Lil la Tart”.
With soft, curvaceous ladies who mined for hearts – and gold of a different sort.
Didn’t take long before easy gold, was extremely hard to find.
And burly miners, tough as steel, moved in to hard rock mine.
With bloodied knuckles, dented hats, they blasted at a furious pace.
To find the gold, called the mother lode, yellow blood coursing through their veins!
The mine they worked was called “Long Shot”, the men thought that name a curse.
But the miners hankered for the handle, “Buzzard’s Breath”, and the mine’s name was reversed.
As luck would say, they held a royal flush, when they hit that horse-wide vein.
Of the purest gold, yet to be found, this side of the Pearly Gates.
Eyes wide as saucers, they were all in awe, everyone was filthy rich.
The miners should have all retired and should have cashed in all their chips.
But a man’s hard to figure, when his blood is yellow, and he’s stricken with a gold fever.
“Eureka! boys, git the dynamite and a whole lot more mining timbers!”
They mined that vein to the bowels of the earth, and the heat increased by day.
Buzzard’s Breath became the hottest place, to Hell – the shortest way.
And then one day, the men never came back. – Hell must have jumped that claim.
Of the purest gold, yet to be found – that’s where the Devil mines today!”
Quiet mounds of yellowed tailings and dead weeds whisper low.
And proud rusting relics telling tales of striking gold.
The rush from East, from North and South, died a slow and quiet death.
Along with days of tall wooden ships, and the ghosts of Buzzard’s Breath.
Upon the transit city streets
Where all the faces seldom meet
and hands are seldom held in greet
as ears and eyes avoid hungers reek
Who clamors for the hungry born?
While food is stuffed in fattened heads
delivered from thoughts of those unfed
while on the corner just up ahead
a man sits, weary, worn…
Corporations greedy towers
Counting coup and gaining power
Diamonds on their loved ones shower
Thousand dollar suits empower
Who offers hope for poor’s new born?
Unpaid a worthy wage to each
their monthly bills in hope to meet
Body hungry, so kids can eat
A man sits, weary, worn…
Fists clasping hold to wallets tight
Gathering things, their given right
Reaching always for richer heights
Employees grieve, though not in sight
Who suffers, man, poor wages born?
When unattained, money sought
Though fair wages are clearly bought
a paycheck, cashed, is stretched too taunt
A man sits, weary, worn…
Hiding funds in a foreign land
Tax evasions rape sovereign sand
Lobbying to hold the wealthy hand
Meager sums paid retirement plans
Greed begets the poor wages born
while feet get wet for need of shoes
Though they smile, hearts sing the blues
When second job hopes come unglued
A man sits, weary, torn…
On 08/31/14 I declared this 4 day undertaking completed. I’ve tweaked to the best of my ability. The rhyme scheme was not the challenge, it was the meter I found hard to follow through in each verse. Not anywhere near what I consider the best of my scribbles but here it is !!
The two Cowboys stood at the cliff of a great divide.
Jacob stood, starring across the opening with Bill still
in his saddle, close by his side. The rocky scene was like
A kaleidoscope, every color, ever known.
Is there any other place you would rather be Bill?
Bill said, No Jacob, I don't believe so.
Jacob slowly, climbed back on to his horse and pulled the
reins and headed North. He started whistling a happy note
and Bill listened as he followed Jacob to the valley
slope.
Deadwood City here we come, looking for gold and lots of fun,
Jacob shouted! Yep, Bill shouted back, and we need to keep us
a fully loaded gun. The Cowboys laughed out loud as they rode on.
The Cowboys knew Deadwood could make a man so very rich
and they had contracted the gold fever itch. The day's travel was
so very long and hot, and the sun began to sink below the mountain's
amber, rugged tops.
They found a place to camp before nightfall and how that fire crackled
as they ate beans and corn fritters, and over coffee talked.
You know Bill, said Jacob. One Summer could set us straight and you
could pay off the old farm and fix that crooked gate.
Yeah, Bill responded and then you could marry Jenny. Maybe start
a family and maybe even buy the Ole Mill. Yeah, said Jacob, so surreal.
The Cowboys lay starring at the stars in the sky that clear, crisp night
and dreamed of all the things that gold could buy them, until daylight.
The Cowboys made Deadwood and Oh, the sights they seen.
They panned every river and every stream. Then at summer's end
they cashed it all in and headed back to Tennessee, to live out their lives
and share with their family the story of their Deadwood dreams.
A girl once won a lottery ticket
She cashed it in at the wicket
Shared it with her spouse
Who turned out to be a louse
Spent all the wicked lottery ticket.
Didn't really want to talk
don't have much to say
We haven't talked in a while
a little longer wouldn't matter anyway
Don't keep me on the phone too long
you know I don't like commentation
Let's just say hi, say bye
I didn't call to have a long conversation
Or to hear how your distant cousins are doing
How your day went
If you cashed your check
and how much money you spent
Just calling to see
'cause I care enough;
show enough concern
to pick up the phone and say
"Just checking to see if you're breathing."
Greater Love
I shivered and watched him as the snow fell
Frail, tattered clothes, bearded, no shoes, but--smell!
I thought--what a contrast--comparing sights,
But love was a lesson I'd learn that night!
Not from plastic steeples or rhetoric,
Philanthropy or emotional trick...
I would learn to look in my own mirror
For compassion, mercy, empathy--clearer.
This complex multiple of nature lives
In dying daily to Ego-------Forgives!
Then I saw neither black, white, red nor green,
But only insolence and heard him scream:
"Get away from us! You Freak! Reprobate!"
Then with his cane, knocked him down--oh such hate!
Top hat and tails perched with pride by the door
Assisting the dilatant he adored.
Snow was a gossamer curtain all 'round.
Vision obscured even steps on the ground.
Lights came from nowhere as they crossed the street,
Aimed for the dilatant--innocent, sweet.
Watching I saw from the shadows immerge
Sprinting like 'Coldstream Guard'--out past the curb,
That same man, pushing the dilatant fair
Out of harms way as he flew in mid-air.
Emerging unscathed from the ice and snow:
"Who was that man? Tell me! I want to know!"
The crowd huddled 'round like a football team
Gawking with questions of what they had seen.
A donor card was his only ID.
No name--just a wish--was all they could see.
Donor card cashed in...Science and query...
A grave in an obscure cemetery,
With small unadorned head-marker amends:
"Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."
5/14/2012
deborah burch©
My early morning began as normal as could be,
but soon,while driving the freeway on my way to work,
my car stalled. Then, in center of an apex, my car died.
I had no choice but to leave it there and gather my things.
I had to hurry or I would miss my morning flight.
Cars were slowly passing in the crowded rush hour traffic,
and there I was on foot, dragging my suitcase behind me.
There were car loads of guys offering me a ride, whistling,
whooping, and calling out to me from inside their cars.
I was in my stewardess attire and simply mortified.
I didn't feel safe getting into a car filled with guys.
I walked for some time, ignoring them, praying for a miracle.
Soon after a nice fellow, alone in a pick up truck,
asked if I needed a ride and I gratefully said yes.
He pulled off to the emergency lane and put my
suitcase in the back of his truck as I slipped into his cab.
I had no cash on me to call a taxi, so this kind stranger not
only gave me a lift but cashed a personal twenty dollar check!
He dropped me at a filling station when his exit came.
I expressed my gratitude and blessed him as he pulled away.
I know this angel in disguise was an answer to my prayers.
I arrived at the airport just in time to catch my flight. Amen!
© Connie Marcum Wong
*Not for the Contest because I did it all wrong. My mistake for not reading the directions correctly. Sorry Sara!
Took Me Fool
Crushed and cashed the fantasy,
But could not hold fancy,
She bailed me out in rain,
As I tried to build the new reign,
My delusion drove me to dive,
As hard that I could not see the cheat hive,
Why do you take fool out me?
Is that how you can push me to that lie pool?
Enchanted with paradise at the rhapsody of your thigh,
But to get it was a not easy tithe,
Stop making fool out of me,
Because it stings like a bee.