Best Check Off Poems
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Mom’s Night Before Christmas
T’was the night before Christmas
Downtown stores they were packed
Shoppers looking for deals
Bargains bound to attract.
My mother navigated crowded streets with care
She put off Christmas shopping until Christmas Eve
Knowing the sales would still be there
She would check off her list – this she believed!
Every year, the same game
This her habit, her tradition
Christmas Eve shopping – her claim to fame -
Like a wise woman on a mission
All parking lots said no room in the inn
Garages full, nary a spot in sight
But mom didn’t worry, slowly she grinned,
She knew the secret for parking this night.
Singing Silver Bells, her favorite carol,
With visions of gifts purchased, just in time,
She wore her mantra like festive apparel
“There’s always room at the head of the line.”
Lo, and behold, what appeared
One parking place at her favorite store
Quickly she zipped in filled with Christmas cheer
Ready to finish her holiday chores.
There’s always room, her holiday legend,
One she passed on to me, thankfully,
When finding a mall space I look to Heaven
“Thanks, Mom!” I say with Christmas glee.
Miracles happen at this time of year
In positive thinking believe
A star in the sky – a Savior appears
All of life’s burdens to relieve.
12-6-22
Contest: T’was the Night Before 3
Sponsor: Joseph May
Every year on Christmas Eve my mom would drive downtown to do her Christmas shopping. With every garage and parking place taken, she would, every year, find a place to park in front of the door to her favorite store!!!! Her mantra lives on – “There’s always room at the head of the line!” Perfect for the belief in miracles at Christmas!
Acclimating to the tranquil jaunt
of a cool morning cascade
shouldered brightly by
reds and oranges of a quiet rising sun
Rather than yearning for ball point
to check off
Peacefulness & beauty with poingant
smile
Been there, done that!
O tireless mantra for
Consummation of life
Anticipating the soft cooing
of Septembers mourning dove
spawns antiquated veins of nobility
much kindlier than traffic lights
and car horns
The perfume of fresh earth
as dew is called back to Heaven
leaves very pleasantly
remorseless of its brief endeavor
or fleeting benevolence
7:00 AM
my eyes small and tight
a soft shuffle into the bathroom
distorted and jaded,
a half frown on my face
a dog-tired grunt serves as my good morning
8:00 AM
my consciousness brings stress, anxiety
a checklist in my head
I can never seem to check off all the boxes
a smile locks my lips together, I must hide my agitation
8:20 AM
the school bell mutes me
I must concentrate.
No talking, No laughing, No districations
my ring finger purple and bruised,
I always write to hard
teachers pet, try-hard
I must keep the holy 4.0
Lunch
a break
time has never tasted so savory
the strings unwinds, my body loose
my laughter overpowers my strain
until I am muted yet again
I have to get to class
3:30 PM
my golden hour
I am free
my stress and smarts stripped away
I am young
I feel love
my voice raises, my confidence grows
where judgement is prohibited
9:30 PM
my brain starts to settle
check 1, 2, 3
is all my homework done?
Is my alarm set?
and I’m ready to do it all again.
No matter where I send you, you return.
The fault lies in my own emotional navigation,
Wasting words and energy for energy's sake.
I hurl you into dead end corners,
So you can climb back into my brain.
All that's left are forced giddy-ups.
So help me check off all my screw-ups.
A job for lunatics.
When they were handing out animus- I was missed,
You know that masculine thing in my psyche;
I am all girl, you can check off the female list,
Took my bro's play truck because I was feisty.
You know that masculine thing in my psyche,
I don't like any sports and boy things, I resist;
Took my bro's play truck because I was feisty,
Did not want to be a truck driver- just him pissed.
I don't like any sports and boy things I resist,
Have courage and I am a warrior mighty;
Did not want to be a truck driver- just him pissed,
I have spirit and pride and great integrity.
Have courage and I am a warrior mighty,
Don't want to be president- just want to be kissed;
I have spirit and pride and great integrity,
Oh listen . . . I am all girl, so I must insist.
Don't want to be president- just want to be kissed,
I am all girl, you can check off the female list;
Oh listen- (I am all girl), so I must insist,
When they were handing out animus- I was missed.
________________________
May 19, 2016
Poetry/Pantoum/My Lack of Animus
Copyright Protected, ID 16-792-118-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Animus-Anima, Part II- Animus
sponsor, Tom Quigley
8th Place
WHAT I’VE KICKED OFF MY BUCKET LIST.
Kicked off to do’s before I knew,
the term called,” Bucket List.”.
What we teens termed, “chasing our star”
”our dream” or … our heart’s “wish.”
With twenty -five bucks chased dream, from
Georgia, New York, on a train,
Chasing dream involving fashion,
chase little piece … of fame.
“Times” Classified Men's ad. answered,
interviewed by Vice President.
Didn’t get job, we’re fifty years wed,
glad on interview …went!
Christian Dior my design used,
next a New York award.
Georgia’s Woman of Achievement”
humbly … thanked my Lord.
In Macon, Georgia I started
“First Fridays” events here.
Through namesake, Joycine’s Art Gallery”
my art and others … cheer.
Deathbed promise made a best friend,
poetry publish and write.
In “P.S. Anthology,
a bucket wish … delight.
My Bucket list greatest, check off,
was my son Paul's birth.
Of all awards received in life,
God’s gift… greatest on earth!
Contest What Have you Kicked off Your Bucket List
by Chantelle Ann Cooke
Boggled is the mind
Where we stand is anti
Is shine proof
Need not to check off
But dismember the anti
with anatomic
Of words from the guru
no one should place a label
on who is more wrong or correct.
Washing and drying
Folding and clothing
Scooping and dumping
Hustling and bustling.
I follow my routine
Each tuesday, thursday and friday
Getting all the chores done
On rare occassion one is saved for tomorrow.
Yet, your never satisfied
You try to throw off my pattern
Adding new things that don't swing
While you make empty threats
That I ain't buying.
You may bark all you want,
But you don't got the bite
Even when you put on a mean face
Trying to make everyone bow before you
Just because you think your the boss.
Then you tell me "Wait until you land a job"
"Just see how hard that'll be"
That's only your opinion
Because your work is full of idiots.
So don't push your beliefs on me
You may be experienced
Yet when it comes to jobs
You don't understand
That all jobs differ.
I'm doing my best
Just like the rest
To find work out there
That's right for me.
As long as I'm happy
Relating to my field
Suiting to my skills
An environment that's just right
Then I've found the ideal job.
I love to relax and have fun,
Pausing the fun button
To get the job done
Then get back to bliss.
I know the time
Check off the chores
On the list in my mind
I get it all done.
Helping you out
Groceries and tasks
I get them done
Multitasking everything
To balance work and pleasure.
You see negatives in life
While I see positives
Think I don't use my head
I use it more than you know.
You see the grass as gray
I see the grass as greener
You see the glass as half empty
I see the glass as half full.
I Rapunzel, You Gothel
Your wrong about me,
Your wrong about people,
Your wrong about jobs.
Learn to loosen up,
Accept the things in life,
Be more appreciative of the people
That surround you that care.
Smash your negativity
With the hammer of positivity
Because I won't put up with it
So just get off my back.
Sit Transit Gloria Mundi
Rick Folker
Our current consumptive culture
Salivates over
"Tech" and "Cell" and "Screen"
That transmits the lurid, pornographic
Apocalyptic scenes.
We long for the end
Of the endless 24/7 hollow info
Hoping, even praying that
The Moral Arc would start to bend.
The dreadful, the destitute in their death throes
Are caught by our ever-present lens;
The Schadenfreude tourist
Documenting the world's worsening
woes.
We check off the trauma
As part of our Holy Bucket List
And tune in and tune out of another
Kardashian/Jerry Springer blitz.
All along we lurch from crisis to crisis
Bankers scot free, Blacks burned in worship
While blaming the ever-elusive Isis
White supremacy in the land of the free?
The clown in the White house doesn't get it ....
Or does he
With Dad now gone
If I could I wish…
I would give you a world cruise
I wish I could…
Buy you a ticket for
An endless trip around the world
Think of all the people you would meet
And the places you would see
I wish I could…
Help you check off all the items
On your bucket list
So you could reach the finish line
And say with assurance I did it all
I did it all and then some
I wish I could…
Make sure you never feel alone
As the years pass by
Dad being with you and
Always watchful from above
If I could I wish…
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on November 6, 2017
I pleasure dove into my treasure trove
Of keepsakes and mementos
I snoop around here about every ten years
And am always amazed at how quickly the time goes
There are pictures and things, an old mood ring,
Ticket stubs and newspaper clippings;
Blue tipped matches, old ID badges,
Birth announcements and all the memories that they bring
When I dove in this time I found an old rhyme
That I had written but was half complete
I promptly opened it and now here I sit
Thinking to finish it might be real neat
It reads:
I am a young man but I have a real plan
About the way I wish to live my life
I hope that my stories contain lots of glories
And I can make a career out of doing things that I like
I know that I am young; my journey just begun
And it is too soon to create a Bucket List
But I hope to one day, when I am older and grey
Come back and check off the things that I’ve missed
So I reviewed that old list and all the things it consists
As a teardrop formed in my eye
For I just had to laugh, I hadn’t even done half
And I’ve only a few years left yet to try
So I folded up that poem and stuck it back in its home
Without having completed the verse
I will come back to it here in a couple more years
But there are some things that I have to do first
NOTE: I wrote this for a contest but when I went back and re-read the rules I discovered it has far too many lines ... but I like the poem so I am posting it here, I just won't enter it into the contest. Thanks for the inspiration though.
I'm busy all year, you just don't see.
I'm packing up presents and taking down notes
who's been a good girl who's been a now't (mystic rose).
The reindeer's need feeding the sleigh needs a clean
and Mrs. Santa Claus as me cooking and cleaning.
I go on a diet so I can fit down the chimneys.
And make sure my elves are wrapping up presents.
I test out the mistletoe on Mrs. Claus.
Practice my hymn singing so I can join in with the choir.
As Xmas comes nearer I check off my lists
A limerick book for Jan
and a how to write poetry for Steve.
And a big thank you to poetry soup for keeping us entertained.
and once it's all done , I just can't wait to do it all again next year
Merry Xmas.
comp entry 25/11
I was reading in a Southern Living magazine yesterday that one thing that all great
southern writers have in their books is a dead mule. The article cited several
examples and said that their research indicated that if you wanted to be counted in
amongst the great Southern writers and join them in their private Hereafter, you
had to ride in on a dead mule. I could not help myself and got paper and pen and
wrote the following.
Did you know there’s a Hereafter
Where Southern Writers dwell
And if you’re a Southern Writer
You’ll want in as well - - - but
To be a Southern Writer
There’s just one simple rule
Somewhere in your writings
You must include a mule
And not just any mule story
If you want your writing read
This mule must be dying
And ultimately dead
It doesn’t matter if you love them
Or hate them to their core
You’ve got to kill a mule
If your writing is to score
They’ve been killed by all your heroes
In Southern stories, books and plays
Killed off by great writers
In a multitude of ways
Faulkner drowned a good pair
In his book “As I Lay Dying”
They’ve been shot and stabbed and frozen
When the writers really trying
They’ve been chewed up by a rabid dog
Or left to die of thirst
They’ve been tethered to a railroad track
Or asphyxiated first
Now as a Southern Writer
I’m wondering just who’ll
Deny me my Hereafter
When they’ve read about my mule
So here is my story of an old Southern mule
Who rode Southern gents to an old Southern duel
When they turned and fired, there formed a blood pool
On the ground at the feet of this old Southern mule
And bubbling up through the blood and the drool
Came the very last gasp of this old Southern mule
Who gave up his life for an old writer’s tool
So that I could check off this Southern Writers rule
In my hands, I hold a list
What to do, where to do it, when to do it
Everything I want to accomplish
Written before me in organized text
Check off the next item
Add another two items for every one completed
When will it end? Can I schedule when it will end?
Pained by my own desires to be organized
In a world controlled by never-ending chaos
I take a deep breath
Making a conscious effort to experience mindfulness
Feeling the air in my lungs
Cool and crisp, yet hardly unique
Slowly exhaling
Experiencing a brief pause
I look down at my list again
Tranquility, Inner Peace, Momentary Relaxation
Check... Check
Underline Momentary... Check