Best De Rigueur Poems
Ice crystal contrails cerulean skies crisscross,
Grazing the wispy clouds of cottony linens
Like smooth white, waxy strings of dental floss
Strung out high above these heavenly denizens.
Grazing the wispy clouds of cottony linens
Are they playing war games above the peace?
Strung out high above these heavenly denizens
Are they from earthly tensions finding release?
Are they playing war games above the peace?
These high-flying aerial jockeys of daring feat
Are they from earthly tensions finding release?
They soar through the heavens without defeat.
These high-flying aerial jockeys of daring feat
Top guns rehearsing for battles they must abhor,
They soar through the heavens without defeat
Ever testing, faster, never enough, always more.
Top guns rehearsing for battles they must abhor
Keenly aware of the vital defense roles they play
Ever testing, faster, never enough, always more
Their high-flying antics are de rigueur for the day.
Keenly aware of the vital defense roles they play
Like smooth white, waxy strings of dental floss
Their high-flying antics are de rigueur for the day,
Ice crystal contrails cerulean skies crisscross.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Submitted to "Pantoum - Old or New" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written May 29, 2022
Submitted to "Flight Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
#12 on BEST NEW POEMS LIST
June 10, 2022
Submitted to "Marathon Contest Mile 3"
Sponsored by Mark Toney
If your apartment or your house
Could use a slight expansion,
May I suggest, instead, that you
Just build yourself a mansion.
Today I've toured a couple,
Both in Hudson River towns.
With property like that, your moods
Should have no room for downs.
A bit of ostentation
Seems de rigueur, though, I guess,
But servants take good care of it,
So you don't have to stress.
If you're looking for an upgrade
And you've mega-bucks to spare,
Do like Vanderbilt or Church* - construct
A mansion for your lair.
*Frederick Vanderbilt and Frederic Church
The world became broken
The moment words were spoken
An eradicating epiphany
Or perhaps a silent symphony
Life is simply a caricature of death
We're dead with our very first breath
With red tape wrapped around our minds
We're hindered by beliefs like blinds
For in this world there is no haven
Only a fiery pit for the callous and craven
And if I spark a brazen phrase
To light the path through this darkened maze
Perhaps I'll burden your illusion of life
By raising the curtain on a world full of strife
There is no justice for the homeless and poor
Because we wear injustice as if it's de rigueur
This world is just a playground for despair and wars
When corruption and greed are the government's favorite whores
All of my life I believed myself a pacifist
But in reality I was just a manic masochist
With an eradicating epiphany
Or perhaps a silent symphony
The world became broken
When inhumanity was awoken
There was a time when tennis players
Had to dress in white.
Appearing on the court in colors
Wouldn’t have been right.
But rules have changed and now we see
A medley of attire.
In fact, to be a fashion plate
Some players do aspire.
Both men and women choose to wear
Ensembles bright and bold.
A few stroll out in outfits
Rather shocking to behold.
Though some may yearn for former times
When whites were de rigueur,
To me, the freedom from those rules
Improves the court’s décor.
Add #1
‘Kimmy's Bliss’ hair and nails will be coming and soon,
Find it easy to cry, hate to howl at the moon?
Well the ‘Kimmy's Bliss’ promise is "sheer hair delight,"
You will marvel that prices are not out of sight.
Add #2
‘Kimmy's Bliss’ isn’t flashy, a star in a jar,
In a ‘Hollywood Second’ blow past highest bar,
She's an artist of fashion, a Queen on ‘Hair Street,’
Watch your blues and self-doubts all retreat in defeat.
Add #3
Are you longing for Spring, colors float in the air,
‘Kimmy's Bliss’ is the answer for people who care,
With new color de rigueur and hairdos divine,
You will want to make Kimmy your new Valentine!
Add #4
Find here chemistry, knowledge, skill, passion, and art,
You can get them here blended or served a la carte,
‘Kimmy's Bliss’ is new product, a great hair care gel,
And her "Wow!" "Highest Ratings!" should all doubts dispel!
Add #5
‘Kimmy's Bliss’ means to serve you, to integrate dream,
Won't be leaving you bankrupt a bit down the stream,
Multi-talented people can help you reach goal,
You can walk in divided, return to life whole!
Add #6
‘Kimmy's Bliss’ “Boss” writes poems (like this) for a treat,
And she’s happy, for now he is off of the street,
Answers phones and, if challenged, writes ‘Rhymes for a Dime!’
Hint: you ‘like’ them, might give you a discount next time.
Add #7 (Abekah Emmanuel of PoemHunter.com inspired this one!)
Seems like drums in the jungle are restless tonight,
You’ve got urge to break free, indulge new appetite,
Well, let Kimmy's Bliss' skills help you blaze a new trail,
Set aside a bleak life or try out one less pale.
Brian Johnston
July 29, 2017
Poet's Notes:
My wife Kimmy will be opening a new hair styling and nail shop in the near future in Sunnyvale, CA and I am trying to help out by writing short poems that I may use as newspaper advertisements. This poem is a collection of mini-adds I have written so far. Please tell us what you think. Any and all suggestions will be treasured! Ha!
Also: a note of gratitude to the old ‘Burma Shave’ adds along the highways of my youth and, of course, to Abekah Emmanual of Ghana.
Who’s on top?
Really,
You didn’t know that it’s a contest?
After all,
There can only be one
Poet Laureate can’t there?
Both’s fingernails are bleeding,
Both’s knees are scraped and scabbed,
Both sweating profusely from the strain
Of climbing the sheer rocky face of passion,
Their injuries mostly self-inflicted.
(All poets are born stinkers!)
Poetry is not a day at the beach
Where the only hazards
Are forgotten suntan lotion,
Or that your Mai Tai is low
Because service is not up to par.
Or a day on the golf course
Where your only gain is
A lighter wallet, which cannot really serve you
At your next Weight-Watchers weigh-in.
Apoplexy coloring your future
As yet another ball lands in the drink.
And certainly not a game of tennis
Where service is de rigueur, isn’t it?
Though I swear,
There is more Physics in women’s outfits,
(Action/Reaction - You know!
Do women ever play fair?)
Than in any momentum, spin, or angle
A man can even contemplate.
So who’s on top?
Ask the woman!
Does ‘top’ even matter?
She’s where she wants to be.
A man can only dream! Ha!
Brian Johnston
October 21, 2014
(Adventures In Geriatric Land)
Does your dentist have money for Porsche that you’ve lost?
Is the hair on your head now the color of frost?
Is the zip in your life only internet speed?
Do your savings accounts all too easily bleed?
Does your bladder evacuate slower than sound?
Do your friends all speak louder when you are around?
Is night driving more difficult due to the glare,
Do night road signs all seem that they’re needing repair?
Are closed captions de rigueur while watching TV,
Spicy foods mean you’re somewhere you don’t want to be?
Do you now find you look at each phone number twice,
Does it seem you’re less trusting of stranger's advice?
Does high fashion place second to comfort these days,
Shoes that tie seem they must be a teenager’s craze?
Does your body seem more like the shape of a pear,
Are there times you’re not sure if your feet are still there?
Does your nose know what septum that deviates means?
Do you find that you’re now not so jealous of teens?
Does your back really hurt at times, knees always ache?
Do you sometimes feel drowsy when life needs awake?
And do taxes now fill your whole body with dread
Are there days that you feel like you envy the dead?
Can you look at your life and still think it well spent?
Does it seem now that multitudes live in your tent?
Well if all this is true and you still greet the day,
If you don’t let the little things get in your way,
If you’ve learned to accept and you don’t fear the end
Then rejoice in arrival of mensch-hood my friend.
Brian Johnston
January 22, 2016
A turkey gets stuffed
And so do we
And that’s Thanksgiving
To a T.
For overeating’s
De rigueur
Since that is what
A feast is for.
The food left over
Might entice,
But there’s no need
For gorging twice!
There is a victory, written in the rotating of stars,
A victory of Spring at the death gasp of Winter’s jaws;
Yet as black toffee ice trickles from the black hills,
Like moonlit blood on the teeth of the land,
Clouds and demon rain shape elemental claws,
Ground mist and cemetery gas in swirling nebula,
Trespass upon the living world one last defiant time.
For the ancient dead can dance beyond forest barricades,
Waltzes of pagan discord, gnarling bones in gruesome poses,
And the witches, drunk and naked, arouse talon orgasms,
Impotently curse Beltaine’s advance and de rigueur hibernation,
They damn the virgin swell of the buds of new red roses
That will surely arise from their flesh made dust
Where lips, ripe with the blood of sacrifice, kiss the seething earth.
I’m not an athlete although I love tennis,
I’ve flirted with fitness for most of my life,
Found rewards of a life that’s quite active are
Counterproductive to quality midlife.
The first problem is you’ve an imbecile’s view,
Little chance that you know the real consequence
Actions may have or the risks you are taking,
With doubt that your motives have logic or sense.
You should think of your body as delicate -
Injuries cured, still scars carried a lifetime,
While trophies you won are just yesterday’s news,
This is battle that needs shift of paradigm.
Bodies aren’t cars and spare parts aren’t de rigueur
And obvious thinking can still be untrue.
Though a high flying seed seems so beckoning
Don’t be seduced by dreams never thought through.
Approaching old age brought some bad health resolves
When I thought of new muscle as healthy points,
Simple decisions, to not run on pavement,
To swim in the future, thus saving my joints.
These half-truths cost me dearly as “fitness” led
Me by the nose, wrecking both aging shoulders,
With six months of quite painful rehab for each.
Is this something you want in your health folders?
Caution is frequently thrown to the wind when
We place too much faith in our most naive view,
I felt certain that swimming was gentle but
Life may have truths that we all undervalue.
Success is addictive and that did me in,
There is joy when your choice seems a blest affair,
Joints of a senior are not what my youth had
And rotator cuffs soon cried out for repair.
Moderation I guess is the sense shared here,
Foolish to count on the smile of just pure luck
For pride sets the stage for the mighty to fall
Unless you’re flattened first by a circus truck!
Long Tooth
June 12, 2016
The Devil got the sack last week
He’s feeling at a loss
For several thousand years now
He’s been in charge, the boss
The new man’s changing everything
Hired a whole new team
The place is so much nicer
A more relaxed regime
Red hot pokers up the ****
De rigueur, they are not
Only those that ask, will get
A poker up their bot
There’s been a change of fragrance too
Well, sulphurs so outré
Seems Lily of the valley
Is the order of the day
We’re getting leather sofas, which
Could well be here quite soon
And a squad of decorators
Working hard in every room
Now they’ve fixed the air conditioner
It’s behaving as it should
Hell is rather pleasant
In fact it’s jolly good
So when you pop your clogs
And you’re deciding where to go
Forget the trip to Heaven
It’s much better down below
Refined dame with polished frame
Strewing rose petals from lofty pedestal
Sparkling eyes from which stardust flies
Bright smile spindling on embroidered dial
Pallid face shrouded with humble grace
High cheek bones with sculptor's chisel honed
Coiffed strands of hair so De Rigueur
Elegant neck sharing femininity with regal dignity
Voluptuous bosom with silky folds rolled
Roon paps flowing with sweet, sugary saps
Frothy balloon hovering over silted cocoon
Swiveled hips whose billowy curves in rhythm swerve
Heart-shaped hands from which dexterous tendrils
expand
Long, shapely legs with slithering grooves bathed in silky
lube
Dainty feet whose comely features do entreat
The chipmunks are oblivious
And so, too, are the birds.
I doubt if they would even care
If they could speak in words.
But humans and their calendars,
At least where I reside,
Know Fathers' Day's upon us;
By the rules we must abide.
A card or call's expected
And perhaps a little gift.
It needn't cost a fortune
But should give your dad a lift.
A barbecue's de rigueur
And the drink of choice is beer
To make the masculinity
Of this day very clear.
So here's to all the dads around
With grandpas, too, included.
Enjoy your burgers and your brews,
Though chipmunks are excluded.
I became familiar with intriguing chow in the army mess,
Tho' I savored their chipped beef and gravy I must confess!
But some of their culinary efforts left in my mind some doubt,
That my wily recruiter didn't know what he was talking about!
Invariably for lunch and supper much to my dismay,
They plopped a dollop of fruit cocktail upon my battered tray.
The sergeant grinned as he slopped some on my mashed pertaters.
Have you ever eaten fruit coctail mixed with stewed termaters!
The army must've had a surplus of orange marmalade,
And the meatballs would've made a formidable hand grenade!
One never asked about the ingredients in the vegetable stew.
On rare occasions steak was served, but it was tough to chew!
Troopers sat around a picnic table affair and elbows really flew!
Such atrocious language! At Mother's table that would never do!
Signs read, "Take all you want but eat what you took!"
Food dumped in the garbage can could easily upset the cook!
For Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners they put on a spread.
Those I savored but anticipated future meals with dread!
But in todays army "dining rooms", silver and chinaware prevails.
Why! I've heard they serve cordon bleu and even lobster tails!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
This poem pretty accurately describes "mess hall" conditions when
I first entered the Air Force in 1948. As years progressed, things
really improved for the better. They are called "dining facilities" today
and to dine in one is a special treat which I have done several times
since my retirement from the Air Force. It is true "dining" and lobster
tail, cordon bleu, steamboat round and such delicacies are de rigueur! If those foods are
not your thing, there is a soup and salad bar, pasta bar, ice cream bar, hamburger bar
and on and on. The decor compares to any fine restaurant. But I don't
begrudge our men and women in uniform one bit - they deserve the best!!
When i share my hopes and ambitions,she gives me a derisory laugh.
Her dereliction,as my better half,of supporting my strides,worry's me.
Not fulfilling her desiderata of comfort,sinks my ego below the sand,drags my dreams against the sylvan of this island of dissatisfaction.
Money vindicates time from the poor.
That's a minatory statement from a deranged lover.
I'm not a derring-do in an animated dote story,am as real as the sole of a terrapin.
I descry your desiccated heart.
No more fear,no sympathy,zero tolerance.
Vicissitude of covalent romance is at threshold.
Your bolder than ever,saying wise things of truth that shake me.
I act tenaciously to keep us together,then you utter another tentative sentence.
I pause and remember,Responsibility is de rigueur in a family union.
By M.O.O aka Carswell evoL