Best Cut And Dried Poems
Somewhere in youth I strayed from truth.
And grew up to not have much couth.
The door bell rang the onus chime.
Snuck out the back to bide some time.
I wandered streets in every bar.
It's not a wonder I didn't get far.
There's many phases to the light.
And many choices, wrong and right.
The path is never cut and dried.
The mirror can always tell who lied.
Windows, doors and walls and ceiling.
Can keep the shadow from revealing.
The best that one can hope to do.
Is to not know shame when they are through.
Mistakes we make can be forgiven.
But the one inside needs to start liven'.
Wrong...Right...
Black and White...
Do imps 'n'angels fight
in light of day...dark of night?
The evil to hell...the rest - heaven's delight...
is all cut and dried or are there shades of gray in sight?
Sunday school's doctrine belief: follow the rules to receive Jesus' light,
but there's a serpent opportuning "the world's your apple...reach out...take a bite..."
and it's ever so easy to live thinking "carpe diem" and to live our lives for tonight.
Will I bow to society's demands? Will I embrace a hedonist life?
Th'answer to both is tentatively, "I might".
Suzette Prime
Written for Suzette Prime: Philosophy Contest
The Judge
Accused and accuser, a battle for life,
Abused and abuser, a husband and wife,
Thieves and robbers, the unjust takers,
Pushers, druggies, and even drug makers,
Quickly I decide the fates of these,
The server of justice, respect me please,
I try my best to serve with skill,
To protect the public from those that kill,
Justice is not so cut and dried,
Letter of law before each case tried,
Some guilty go free in this court of mine,
Others are released with only a fine,
Stacks of papers, stories to tell,
Left to me to judge them well,
Pros and cons, wrongs and rights,
As I listen to lawyers’ fights,
Restitution for damages, punishment for crime,
Fault being corrected by the serving of time,
Hours to contemplate how life went astray,
Freedom restricted and fines to pay,
Equality in justice, fairness to all,
Innocent till guilty, no time to stall,
How can we be sure that I’m fair and just?
There’s only one way, In God We Tru$t.
Thaddeus Tietsort
1998
Reclining within spring's bouquet
she thought,” Please stay, don't rush away,
I so enjoy, these blooms of May."
This maiden who boldly proclaimed
wished only for sweet azure sky
upon which white clouds could be framed
without knowing the reasons why.
Yet, deep within, a darkness grew
like London fog, it changed her view
and left her plea cast all askew.
With every cloud, she graced with smiles
a dozen more would turn to grey
and through these hues she witnessed trials
as heaven wept for man's dismay.
No matter what the sky would bring
to make this world alive and sing,
she felt the pain from mankind’s sting.
She knew this venom slowly killed,
just like the years traveled from birth,
each space, a wound shadows had filled
in every corner of her earth.
But then a spark! A thought divine!
a revelation that might shine,
to help her break apathy’s spine.
She shouted truth, for so long slurred;
that man was more than part-time king
and he could change what was inferred,
so she would see, a better spring.
---------------------------------
A Double Sarabande Sonnet
Specs:
The Sarabande was a dance of Persian origin introduced into Spain in the 16th century.
The poem follows the movements of the dance with its change of stanza form
to comply with the measures of the music. As a “sonnet” it has:
14 lines
Four stanzas
Stanza 1 a tercet, rhyme axa or aaa
Stanza 2 a quatrain, any quatrain form or rhyme
The stanza forms may be mixed
English: abab or abcb
Italian: baab
Spanish: bcbc
French: bbcc
Stanza 3 a tercet, same tercet form as stanza 1
a sonnet with a French tercet requires
line 2 of both tercets to rhyme.
Stanza 4 a quatrain, any quatrain form and
rhyme
Any metrical foot
Any metrical line
Some authorities insist on eight syllables
but this is not cut and dried
Rhyme scheme: depends on the form chosen.
The volta the first line of the second tercet.
(A) Optimist (B) Pessimist, or (C) Realist
These labels that get tossed about are far too cut-and-dried,
and when we fail to act in keeping with the one applied
to us—perhaps since we were kids—we cause close scrutiny.
If “Optimist” feels sad, he is accused of mutiny.
I’m often A, I have been B, but basically I’m a C!
March 15, 2019, entered in Brian Strand's Standard Contest 195
The news is..! Britain is favorite for the euro vision
Showcase.'
That will show it just what it's missing..'
LOL)) Ukraine is I Apparently going to win
The contest anyway..?
Top seat and jello
From aunty eu.)
I didn't hear that
From Joe Biden.!
I don't think so at least. ?
When all is said and done - my son
When all is done and said
There's nothing more to be done - my son
And nothing more to be said.
When all is cut and dried - my girl
When all is dried and cut
There's nothing more to be dried - my girl
And nothing more to be cut
When all is fair and square - my friend
When all is square and fair
There'to be is nothing more to be squared - my friend
And nothing more to be fair.
When we are dead and gone - at last
When we are gone and dead
Then everything will be gone - and past
And we will all be dead.
Yes we will all be dead - my friends
Dead as the nail in the door
Our work will all be done - my friends
And we wil strive no more.
And we will strive no more - my friends
To say and do and cut and dry
To worry our minds and search our hearts
To be fair and square and the reason why.
To find out the reason why - my friends
To fathom the reason why ????????
Is it a new phenomenon,
Known to the world
Through Beckett and Camus?
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean.
Oedipus, Bhartrhari, Buddha—all,
Over a period of intense suffering,
Learnt to cope with it,
Each resorting to a different praxis.
King Dasaratha perhaps thought
He knew—until a moment came,
When no knowledge,
No cut-and-dried theory,
No ready-made solution
Could possibly help.
He succumbed.
Kierkegaard could see.
Husserl could show.
Eliot could feel.
Frankl could cope with.
Christ had known.
— R. V. Ram
When it comes to being romantic
The French have it cut and dried
When they whisper je t'aime
You feel so good inside
The italians are no slouch
When its their turn to say
Cara mia, ti voglio bene
It turns my body to clay
When it comes to romance
We in Wales have a lovely word
We say darling "cariad" i love you
Rwy'n dy garu di, is what you hear
Now you Norwegians
The words sound a bit flexy
But I am sure with your accent
Elsker deg sounds so sexy
The world over knows that
Smile and hug or shake of the hands
Says I love you no matter what
Please writen a verse using your language
I will edit and add it....Seren
Mandy has written
My language is English it's very common here
But I can say I love you and hope you can hear
I love you till the cows come home and until the sun does sleep
I love you for all times, I give you these precious words to keep. xx
Andrea has written
For all gents to impress their newest dear
you can whisper softly into her ear:
"Jetaime", "Querido" " Kuss mich" or "Ti amo"
Its HOW you say it that the girls will love to hear
I want this venture to spread wide
And her first walk a giant stride.
So, let's face things from every side,
Checking, wisely, losing man's pride...
Some had this tried and later cried
For lent ears to cut and dried,
Besides who shall have the sweet bride:
Who, in deed, should the horse first ride?
What I now see: men who schemes hide'
To whom hope of true change had died:
Guys who can Satan's - type time bide
And have Christ nine times denied!
Let him fly who can also glide:
His truth: he'd many times lied
Should AI, devoid of human emotion,
Be used by artists for self-promotion?
To paint a picture or write a poem,
Creativity allows the mind to roam.
To dispassionately wax poetic,
Courtesy of things synthetic,
Removes the heart and soul from art
Preventing one's feelings to impart.
Data may be cut and dried,
Biased and unjustified.
Subject to the flaws of men,
Like writing with a leaky pen.
I would rather feel the pain
Of angst from a human brain
Or the fire of love burning inside
Felt when two hearts collide.
AI may be of service in some way
But only man can convey
The essence of life in poetry
That moves our soul poetically.
At birth, the first thing we do is cry.
Once we reach home, in the cradle we lie.
Then we get bored and give our legs a try.
As infants, it’s all about me and my.
Soon, it is time for school, Oh me, Oh My,
and each day an adult wave us goodbye.
When learning gets hard, we complain and cry,
And then we are told, just give it a try.
As we’re growing older, time seems to fly.
School moves from early, to middle, to high.
Then come the years that often make us sigh,
dealing with kids whom our wishes defy.
The demands of life do our patience try.
It often seems we’re living on the fly,
with barely enough time to just say Hi.
During these times our life seems hard and dry.
Some work so hard, they keel over and die,
leaving loved ones behind to grieve and cry.
Others live long before they close their eyes,
But eventually, everyone dies.
So, today you live, tomorrow you die.
For most people, this is life, cut and dried.
But the ones who into the Scriptures pry,
discover this is Satan’s lousy lie.
The Bible speaks of life after we die.
Some call it a tale of pie in the sky.
I believe the Bible and here is why,
Jesus, died, rose, and ascended on high.
Those who believe in Jesus, though they die,
will not forever in the grave lie.
When Jesus returns from His home on high
He will resurrect His children who died.
Those alive, will with them rise to the sky,
To live with Him in the sweet by and by.
He will wipe away all tears from their eye,
and they will nevermore grow sick and die.
If you desire to live after you die,
your ticket to heaven you must buy.
Accept Jesus who for you did die,
And daily with Him your life ally.
Before us lies one, who in Jesus died.
So, even though we may sorrow and cry.
Our hope has in no way been drained dry.
One day soon, we’ll meet Gordon, by and by.
Sound of sea is locked within seashell beached
Just lift a shell to your ear to hear sea sigh.
Morn is locked within dawns red sky horizon
Like flower bud bursts into daybreak.
Sap and sinew of living tree trunk
Is locking within its wood when cut and dried.
Knitters love and enterprise is purled into garments
Finger strokes coiled and entwined, locked within.
Photos frozen, snap shots, shuttered images frozen
Have memories locked within, auras that come to life when images viewed.
Locked within a diamond is flash of light and sparkles bright
Like a star it twinkles its light and shimmers at night.
Locked within a pebble on bed of stream are the clunks and thuds
That have ground it smooth during its passage downstream.
Locked within love locks padlocked to bridge
Is the hope that love locked up, cannot escape and flee.
For nothing is completely new since the big bang exploded
All things solid and spiritual have their birth and legacy locked within.
The threads of time's passage coiled and entwined
Locked within all matter until the end of time.
Everything has some within in tidbits locked inside
'Tis the within of things in lockets.
To those who soak up the slanted slop from Fox
Isn’t it time you switched off your black box,
Or, changed to a channel espousing the facts--
All the things your "balanced TV News” surely lacks
I challenge you to listen to Maddow for a week
You’ll get some valuable information you seek,
Not slanted, but grounded in solid research
Straight from a foundation grounded in truth.
[Fox’s martini has entirely too much vermouth!]
Me, I prefer the Evening News with Lester Holt
Giving me a look at what happened today,
Letting me make up my mind on what I think
Not a bunch of talking heads leading me to drink.
CNN I don’t watch so much, I’m delighted to say
I like my evening news cut-and-dried every day,
I don’t particular like their “expert’s” opinions
I am perfectly competent to decide what I think.
How I long for the days of Huntley and Brinkley,
Edward R. Murrow, Walter Cronkite, and their kind
Who knew I can intelligently make up my mind.
written December 4, 2021
Darkness and light
capture the morn
capture a mood
capture a grown-up world
that sees in black or white,
cut and dried, up or down
needing to slow and find
the calm of gray,
the peace in average,
the quiet of second place
enrapt to recapture
the reverence
of a child.