Best Club Poems
I invite you to join the perfect womens club
The application is sitting on the desk
The following will not determine acceptance
Weight, height
Age
Hair color
Certainly not breast size
Education will make little difference unless it's used wisely
There is no one to compete with
Acceptance is almost always guaranteed
What are we looking for you might ask
Have you cryed?
Have laughed?
Does your heart possess the capacity for love
Do you sing along with the radio
Have you smiled, really smiled?
Have some of your dreams come true?
Are there still dreams waiting to unfold?
You can be shy or outgoing
You don't have to be anyone else
Flaws are important
They are what make you unique
Doubts and confidence
Forward and reserved
Doing the best you can today
It's okay if you have failed
Are you still smiling?
It's even okay if you are crying
You just have to be you
No need to change for anyone
If you want to change that is okay
You will reinvent yourself many times
Perfect in imperfection
A proud member of the Perfect Women's Club
Down past the meadow is the grand old hotel.
Where statues of marble encircle the ponds
Tall cypress line up like soldiers at arms,
saluting each limo that comes down the hill
Limousines arrive daily, like vultures of prey,
to stop and eject their catch of the day
There is proof on arrival, of fortune and assets.
Hosts greet each guest, as the day stretches on,
sporting long coat-tails and red satin vests
As we watched from our hillside, from a vast world away,
we're inclined to walk down, to take a survey
Too rich for our blood! We are flooded with awe
Yet, we're drawn to peek in. Where the rich wine and dine
and we will try, most discreetly, to blend into grey.
Alabaster stone gates, and the thick sculptured stairs
are reeking affluence, that we'll never share
__
Heading back to our campground, on the river's west side,
we returned to our tent, tucked under the pines
It's been faded by sunlight, patched together with twine
Where contentment is canvas, and the wind is a song,
and where water makes music, and the breeze is a poem
Our belongings are in order, (in a disorderly way)
A camp-stove, a lantern, for the end of the day
A tent, (army surplus)…. and a stack of dry wood
will add to our comfort, as well as it should
Would we want to change places, if ever we tried?
Would we trade all our moonscapes, or the chipmunks, or tunes?
As we sat by the fire, to remember our day
We have watched the bright embers, as they floated away
Pinpricks of fire that mixed with the stars
We've been granted our millions, ….while owning the sky.
a city
hungover
wakes slowly
to silence
and lights that
keep watch
over night
the red
and red amber
the green
amber
red
on still streets with
no traffic in sight.
railings and
stone steps
lead down to a
basement
where graffiti
conceals a
locked door
and where bins
overflowing
with bottles
and chip trays
spew half eaten
food
to the floor.
a pigeon
whose body
attempts
as it struts
to try
to catch up
with its head
flaps and then
makes for
what looks like
the inside
of a sandwich
set free from
its bread.
as blocked grids
and clogged gutters
sip dregs
of drain water
left over
from midnight's
wild rain
there are blankets
in doorways
and the red
red and amber
and green
amber
red once again.
~~ Divorce Club~~
Haiku * divorce trip *
---------
broken promises
eclipse of the sun and moon
dreams that fall like leafs.
Limerick * never settle*
------------
Like a gun to my head of course
I married the end of a horse
love was never real,
kids no big deal.
Wow! I gain more money after divorce!
Couplet * forever vows *
------------
I meant them words "for better or worse" during our holy matrimony
The better now has hit me, once the Court ordered alimony:-)
by;p.d.
**OKAY I'M NOT GOOD AT EXAMPLES**
he's holding her hand
cheerleader beyond the glass
his knight takes my queen
02/03/16
Dr. Zhivago, 12 angry men Valdez is coming Clear and Present danger Scent of a woman Armageddon Medicine Man
Top Gun the ninth gate Dangerous minds, Milk money wings of the dove
Cider house rules and shangi noon
The shadow {knows} Bugsy the firm dangerous dogs Jack
Men of honor Quills WATERBOY
the way we were Dead Poets Society bird on a Wire 50 first dates
Never been kissed
gone with the wind Cactus flower Serpico The little mermaid
good will hunting unstrung heros
The Labarinth Wizard of Oz Miracle on 34 th street
Scrooge
Beguiled the good the bad and the ugly High plains drifter
Love Story, 2001 a space Odyssey 16 candles
Pretty in Pink Star wars The Robe...
Ev’ry night, just ‘bout nine
This story does unfold
The living room is quiet
My puppy’s nose is cold
The TV plays a drama
We’re watching, all is well
In fact, my pup is sleeping
As far as I can tell
A bit of hunger hits me
The pantry in my sight
I tiptoe ‘cross the carpets
So quiet while in flight
No matter my endeavor
I turn to see a tail
Wave above the sofa
Following my trail
Before I touch the jar
He knows just what I’ll do
I’m caught, there’s no denying
“Yes, there’s some for you”
This little game, each night we play
My finger now a stub
As we have just concluded
“The Peanut Butter Club “
For my little Monte
Who just adores peanut butter
“Natural, extra chunky, of course”
For International Women’s Day.
The Perfect Women’s Club
I invite you to join the perfect womens club.
The application is sitting on the desk.
The following will not determine acceptance:
Weight, height, age,
skin or hair color
Certainly not breast size or body shape.
Education will make little difference unless it's used wisely.
Best of all there is no one to compete with,
acceptance is almost always guaranteed.
What are we looking for you might ask?
Have you cried?
Have you laughed?
Does your heart possess the capacity for love?
Do you sing along with the radio?
Have you smiled, really smiled?
Have some of your dreams come true?
Are there still dreams waiting to unfold?
You can be shy or outgoing.
You don't have to be anyone but yourself.
Flaws are important,
they are what make you unique.
You can have doubts or confidence.
It’s okay if you are forward or reserved.
You don’t have to be your best self every day.
It's okay if you have failed.
You can be proud of all you have accomplished.
Are you still smiling?
It's even okay if you are crying,
you just have to be you.
No need to change for anyone.
If you want to change that’s okay.
You will reinvent yourself many times.
Our members won’t see imperfections,
Because only you can do you.
So welcome and congratulations!
You are now a proud member,
of the Perfect Women's Club.
She wanted love
that he wouldn’t give
She cried and thought
“How can I live?”
There was a sullen boy
who believed
“If I’m gone others will be relieved.”
He feels not good enough
To much pain and other stuff
Then the old man
alone in a chair
sad blue eyes, grey hair
thinking “No one cares.”
Rocking, rocking, by the bed,
hand full of pills blue and red.
A father crying silently
listening to an old tune
A cigar and Jack Daniels
under a full moon
He will be long gone
before it reaches noon.
She who used to be a him
Pretty in her own way
Carl needed to become Kim
Disowned and rejected
by mommy and daddy Jim
Later she’ll be at the end of her rope
attached to a tree limb
A dead girl
with a needle in her arm
Was so innocent once
She grew up on a farm
but the simple life
somehow lost it’s charm
Each in their own way
arrived at this place
Wanting to disappear
without a trace
Time took its toll
lonely occupies this space.
A lie without an answer
different stories to trace.
A sad secret behind every face.
Her childhood stories bring tears to the eye
They’re of her overcoming difficulties
In an abusive family life
The subjects in racist societies
Molestation and racism are two reasons why
Traumatization had caused her to be MUTE
They ban books for the harsh reality they deny
Through reading literature, she becomes astute
And expresses her pain and sorrows
Poetry was her outlet and therapy
For writing and better tomorrows
I heard that there is a group called the mean girls club.
An elite group of poetesses that some like to snub.
A strong group of women who have each other’s backs,
and band together against petty and meaningless attacks.
There must be some jealousy from some not in our group,
as they continue to throw jabs and daggers in the blog soup.
We enjoy writing our poems as we express our rights,
while others continue to only see us in a negative light.
Let us know if you want to join our supportive club,
as we continue to ignore the negativity and rise above.
I am a proud lifetime member of this mean girl’s group,
and will continue to defend my friends, that is the scoop!
If our love is a sin, then heaven must be full of such tender and selfless sinning as ours— Radclyffe Hall
Explore themes of love and identity
Of Stephen Gordon’s innate sense of masculinity
Since a child, her desire, ‘women’
The idea that if love is considered a sin
The unfolding of a female sexual invert
The act of loving must be a tender selfless act, revert?
Love itself is not inherently sinful or
complexities of love, we shan’t ignore
But rather the circumstances surrounding it
Misfits from Malvern to London and then to Paris!
Ira furor brevis, the frailty, taboo and strife
Fellow q***r characters, all walks of life
From the *sapphic salon hostess Valérie Seymour
To the 'miserable army' and more
of outcasts that frequents the 'merciless
Drug-dealing, death-dealing' bars of Montmartre
Written in another time, still support and solidarity to
generations of LGBTQ genre
*Sapphic is an umbrella term for same-gender loving women or woman-aligned people, including lesbians and bisexual+ women. It is used to describe topics, activities, and ideas related to same-sex attraction among women. The term can also refer to the Greek lyric poet Sappho.
Announcing it in the paper that day,
the LGBT club soon got under way,
meeting at Bruce's bike shop on their harley's,
is where they'd all meet before going on their journey,
some newcomers arrived as well,
and from the looks of them couldn't
tell if they were a woman or a fella,
some looking kind of like Mrs. Doubtfire,
while the younger ones like a Caitlin Jenner,
Bruce started scratching his head
and started to wonder,
why all of a sudden his club was so full of transgender's,
then he realized when he looked at the paper ad,
that he had to change the clubs lettering just a tad,
because his Lumberjacks Go Biking Tuesday's club,
was not going to be used anymore after that
coming out masquerade fad!
Best seller
“Gone Girl” a novel by Gillian Flynn
Riddles, my wife loved games of amusement
I never found out the clue of why
she had gone missing, accuse me?
I was spent on our anniversary
Under mysterious circumstances
Nothing is what it seems
Nick and Amy’s duality
Identity, masculinity
For once I didn’t feel like I was struggling
Iconic cool girl persona
The girl men like Nick want
Never get angry, party girl, let men do what they do
Women’s issues, an essay Amy would write
Molding herself into that girl reinventing herself
Image and alter-ego are everything!
Appearance verses reality
Genuine pleasure to read
Oh, she has the last word
A classic Who done it? distinct subgenre
Surprising and masterfully done
Amy is smart, self-aware with a vindictive psyche
Warning authors of their marriage
Nick’s side or Amy’s?
Two very different humans
They both prove to be unreliable
Awry, a thriller of unease
The Spit & Whittle Club
As remembered: by Miracle Man
3-21-2020
As a kid it was always town on Saturday,
horses and wagons dotted our main street.
Tied to curb rings up and down Broadway,
then penny candy, was sometimes a treat.
Many had come to gin a weeks cotton,
and buy flour and coffee for another week.
Times back then would today seem rotten,
But that was life and times were bleak.
Worn out by years, older men would sit,
they did this having nothing pressing to do.
On a bench swapping yarns to whittle, and spit,
and think, at days end, how the time flew.
All older men needed was a plug of Brown’s Mule,
and a pocket knife, and of course a stick.
Tom