Best Deportment Poems
Often wondering is it a steak upon Our Plates that is important...
Perhaps a Hot-dog instead and more Money for a healing deportment.
To feed a Child that is suffering or very ill and extremely sick.
We ask often comfortably what often makes the wealthy tick?
As We read on The Internet that there are Children out there just wanting Bread.
The Children eating grass is in an Article that was just as this is read...
My Heart torn open,wrenched,concerned and burning with anguish inside.
My Own Home stemless, poor, and uncomfortably We reside...
Wishing We could just reach threw a T.V. Set to give a helping hand...
Just to pass Our Dinner to a child in a taunted hemmed Land.
My passion so large, words so strong, and My Pocket very small.
Never standing in the right position in Life to answer as Children call.
There are Children in Our World that are just eating grass.
Under seemly so by My feelings of disrepair as I pass My Own grasp...
This stench of Many Self willed that preform as Our stanza has not surpassed.
To reach for You now is more then an unbearable weep to comprehend.
A World filling up with Starvation and Our Children in it left to descend.
To reach for You now is an unbearable decision not yet made.
The Children Eating Grass just wore Me thin and They paid.
Sometime wishing I could just rob and empty an entire vault.
That Decision would cost Me greatly so I resort to prayer that will never fault.
To Be trusted with just This Message where I sit and grieve.
When Encounters of Love yet to occur and never to beckon Evil that is deceived.
By Charlene L.Wilcox 09-29-2014
My sister Susie loved picking her nose
To her chagrin her little finger froze
It was stuck so far
Doc used a crowbar
Finger up nose - not a ladylike pose!
Our Mother, in a fit of Pique
At Susie's antics with her Beak
Said, "Right my girl"
And in a whirl
Grounded Susie for a Week
Resenting her fate, in bed
Rebellion sparked inside her head
When all were asleep
She'd dress and creep
Though the window and escape instead
A branch near her window hung
Which to its foliage she clung
The branch was weak
And with a shriek
She fell into a pile of Dung
The house woke up only to find
Poor Susie in a dreadful Bind
She looked quite a mess
In her state of distress
That our Mother went out of her mind
"A School for young Ladies, I'll choose"
One, her wildness, I hope will defuse
And instil, at a pace,
Deportment and Grace
To refine the coarse ways of our Suz'
Packed off to be 'Finished' she went
Determined to never repent
Despite all opinions
It's just like 'St Trinians'
And for Susie, was quite an event
Susie boarded at ‘Saint Eloise’
It was there she got covered in fleas
Once she dived in a ditch
To be rid of that itch
Oh, you should see the state of her knees!
When in the first deportment class
Poor Susie fell straight on her ‘ass’
When she exposed her behind
The other girls were unkind
So Susie began passing gas
They had to open the windows and doors
Crawl about and move on all fours
To get rid of the smell
That came straight from hell
Staff told ‘Susie’ no more encores!
Her Classmates all thought it a Hoot
When she lit the gas that she'd shoot
She then vented a Storm
That Blew up her Dorm
Which got our poor Susie the Boot
She believed she should never have gone
From the ones she depended upon
With her Mission, complete
(And a Cork placed, discreet)
Susie's Home where she'll always belong.
20th January 2016
Collaboration J Allison and R Bettridge
I am the environmentalist in love with wine,
my shoulders carry and reside in the cutting edge side of life,
the establishment craves to be the human race
while I stroll the memories of “Sailor fields”
amongst ancient Jurassic stone.
Is this! The only way for me?
My saline tears run freely now a days,
it’s time that governs one’s sentiment,
no doubt the plague of waiting relates to this.
What! Of the future,
hey , i want to forget about futuristic wars,
may be the media are in gross error of judgment?
I’m told I’m only a little man, at last now I know why I’m the
one that society chastises every day,
Why this mortal flame in constant combat becomes
life’s tomb stone around my neck.
To feel freedom, another swig so my lacklustre eyes again become stimulated
as the view overcomes my immobility and bids farewell, to the great lady
that glides portly on the outgoing tide.
Curse this elemental wind
that curls in from the east,
“Mother” i cry
“Is this the clarity of our beginning.” the start of all this crap,
as astringent thoughts flow through my urban bucolic mind,
seeing or feeling nothing of the moment, only a repeat of the actions of many insensitive men,
those that flourish, those that sentiment cannot stain those that walk tallest amongst men;
because they were hungry for appurtenance.
I remember well , in the far off lea of my mind,
down on the farm thousands of miles away across the Pacific,
where enamel clashed against concrete
there , where foolhardy dreams were dashed,.
when the heart pursued
the warm flesh , she that gave her
reflection to the swan song
of an innocence.
Alas should one be compelled to expire
as one would, a chardonnay basking in the hot sunshine?
Should one fall foul of a politically correct society
that , outside of one’s comfort zone,
because one feels , want , in choleric veins?
Even the sullen white cross, dotted upon the highways
become burning embers, a constant reminiscence,
an emotional monument to many inhibited memories.
Yet I beg this deportment shows me a realization,
that death is imminent,
so why this perpetual waiting, this constant urge,
for this vein dependency to be infringed upon ???
© Harry J Horsman 2012
To behave - to conduct- demean or acquit
To act , conduct one's self in a proper manner
Your behavior - Are you moral? Manners are they good?
Deportment ? your conduct! Is it with honesty?
Gods way of morality! Conducting being capable of managing
Managing your personal behavior - power of the mind
The way you act! Moral conduct! Challenging
Behaviorism - theory of - to speak with kindness
Verbally of intelligence! Spoken of clear words
To set an example - of no vulgarity with integrity
To behave - Moral conduct moral laws
Lord what do we intend to believe?
To mind the law - Hear no evil , speak no evil
See no evil - Who do you behave? Management?
Are they Loyal - honest, trustworthy or moral?
What about cops? Do we have that the law?
Do they or are they moral ? of good conduct?
Do they mind the law themselves - parents
Are they loyal? Moral of good conduct? I saw
My life today - Morals to be found obsolete
The dilemma - walking down the street today
What are you doing when no one is looking?
Were you moral - trustworthy ? Who do you believe?
A moral life - Gods way we want to achieve
Behavior health ? Psychology - Do we mind them?
Are they trustworthy - honest - loyal of moral standards?
Do they mind the law - mind verbal clean language?
Here we go ! Over and over time after time again
What do you behave? Moral conduct! When?
(What Susie Did)
My sister Susie loved picking her nose
To her chagrin her little finger froze
It was stuck so far
Doc used a crowbar
Finger up nose - not a ladylike pose!
Our Mother, in a fit of Pique
At Susie's antics with her Beak
Said, "Right my girl"
And in a whirl
Grounded Susie for a Week
Resenting her fate, in bed
Rebellion sparked inside her head
When all were asleep
She'd dress and creep
Though the window and escape instead
A branch near her window hung
Which to its foliage she clung
The branch was weak
And with a shriek
She fell into a pile of Dung
The house woke up only to find
Poor Susie in a dreadful Bind
She looked quite a mess
In her state of distress
That our Mother went out of her mind
"A School for young Ladies, I'll choose"
One, her wildness, I hope will defuse
And instil, at a pace,
Deportment and Grace
To refine the coarse ways of our Suz'
Packed off to be 'Finished' she went
Determined to never repent
Despite all opinions
It's just like 'St Trinians'
And for Susie, was quite an event
Susie boarded at ‘Saint Eloise’
It was there she got covered in fleas
Once she dived in a ditch
To be rid of that itch
Oh, you should see the state of her knees!
When in the first deportment class
Poor Susie fell straight on her ‘ass’
When she exposed her behind
The other girls were unkind
So Susie began passing gas
They had to open the windows and doors
Crawl about and move on all fours
To get rid of the smell
That came straight from hell
Staff told ‘Susie’ no more encores!
Her Classmates all thought it a Hoot
When she lit the gas that she'd shoot
She then vented a Storm
That Blew up her Dorm
Which got our poor Susie the Boot
She believed she should never have gone
From the ones she depended upon
With her Mission, complete
(And a Cork placed, discreet)
Susie's Home where she'll always belong.
(Collaboration with Jan Allison)
Apart from being torn in pieces, I am together.
Aside from what is known, I am in twain.
Life is fulfilled with so much complexity; however, the world is mundane.
It seems to be a lack of involvement in an enricher way.
Through variables of disparity, discrepancy is everywhere.
None of this matter when augment must be the sound of a nation diverse from immigration and structured from this profoundness.
Our country mode of government must enhance this conformity.
There is no reason to lose to foreign entities.
World War is in a third tier.
We are not afraid of perseverance.
We will restructure from this campaign.
We are so far in tyranny that our militia is ready to bear arms.
Oppressive this may be perceived; however, it really is not.
Our democracy is consensus that rises up metaphorically to win from tyrants in the government with irony being what is exerted.
We bring to bear all that is necessitated to stand up for what is right.
In peace and harmony, we negotiate to avoid a fight.
If this is not possible, we deploy outright in which an immediate surrender is reserved.
We are strong in our focus and our position is known throughout the universe.
In deportment, we conduct our business.
Our behavior; therefore, is exemplary.
Our minds are within our history of how we became.
Our beings are prototypical in strategy and this is in peace or war.
We bid goodwill to all.
We bring to bear all that is necessitated to stand up for what is right.
In peace and harmony, we negotiate to avoid a fight.
We bid all goodwill and a good night.
My grandfather Hymie
spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes as testimony
to countless years
(spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittled
spumed raw elements que
sin art finest artisanal blended, crafted,
dredged by mother nature pre
pared within each trough and crest only
for thy fiercely weatherbeaten nee,
tough as rawhide, leathery,
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within
briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, prith ee
teaching him survival skills asper
getn' taut via eddy fied tests frequently de
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian mutual friend
shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man appeared quite be
coming. An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
ah...them tha many decades past
since the merchant
from Neptune to mast
to nether world, though his parting seems
like it hapt last
year, noot nay twas scores o' full moons ago,
that grim reaper came swift and fast.
Relaxing myself midst a worthy accomplishment
of checking essays which became a rigorous engagement…
I drifted a while for a festive entitlement
recalling such ‘laugh-out-loud’ moment
melting teacher’s stern sentiment
on antonyms predicament
when a student in his sober deportment
mentioned with a jubilant tone of achievement
“opinion and conclusion are opposites” along wit’s settlement…
Then he explained, devoid of embarrassment
“open and close are antonyms”: that’s no wonderment…*
Oh, I thank** God for clean humor in learning, bringing mirth-fulfillment!
November 27, 2020
*That was meant for a joke in our country where English is not the first language. The student actually knew the meanings of those words.
**1Thessalonians 5:18 In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
2nd place, "Funny Memories" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg; judged on 1/28/2022.
4th place, "Make Me Laugh with Some Humor" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin; judged on 12/19/2020.
(scoured from dregs of me muss held head)
I shore up a vignette to free
my ("FAKE") grandfather Hymie,
whose scrunched countenanced
evinced beetle that of browed monkey
he spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes smoothed
nick holed money
to countless years (spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittle nee
where watery terrain spumed
raw elements piscine
art finest artisanal blended, crafted, nein
mean feet resources dredged reluctantly
relinguished by mother nature mean
craftily pared within each trough and crest
found thee old man with privateer mein
whose skin fiercely weatherbeaten
leathery and lean,
epidermis tanned tough
as rawhide, reptilian, prithee
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, 'ee
got taut learn'n survival skills asper
pre ponder hunt via eddy fied tests frequently dee
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian
mutually bonding friendship
via shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man
appeared quite becoming.
An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
When players take part in a sport,
At times they may prance and cavort
But it spoils the game
(Though the crowds are aflame)
When deportment comes up a bit short.
Like in tennis, one player’s disdain
For decorum had some folks complain.
His opponent was peeved
Since a win was achieved
While his goal seemed to just entertain.
I’d mixed feeling while watching the match.
The excitement was easy to catch.
Still, attention was paid
Not to shots that were made
But to antics the winner’d unlatch.
It’s a ballet of carefully choreographed mistakes
a tiptoe dance through a delicate maze
a sudden splinter to catch a thorn
barefoot floor where the eggshells are strewn
Playing the hide and seek of apology
the simple words of a dangerous weaponry
and bruised by any insignificance
one is conducted into the orchestra of the eggshell dance
Careful to mind the sudden tongues slip
the abrupt foot tangled awkward trip
will enhance the injury and augment the weeping
with the crunching boots of a villainous litany
bringing fragile illusions to the eggshell floors
and dragged in spiteful damnable reproachful
lest vengeful emotions on feathers are set twisting
and good intentions are always missing
The shatter patch where a foot may to disaster tread
inside the sarcophagus of things long thought dead
the curse of broken ruined painted eggs
a ghostly deportment of things once said
So walk the labyrinth ever cautiously
ubiquitous magician of so easily to hurt
foreswear not to use the tongue so dangerously
or each stomping stamping secret violation
will be crushing eggshells and their misdirection
is a trauma to demented to teardrops sent
so pause for thought or be held to blame
for one more poisoned arrow shot from a grave
Beware the warning sign which isn't there
beware the precipice when walking blinded
take care to listen as the footfalls
for the eggshell floors make no sound
And you are stepping upon the very dangerous ground
"Very Bad Girl" read the words
Boldly on the lady's sweater!
Nothing in her deportment or deeds
Took the story any further.
Only, I was left to wonder
Why she would've bought the garment
Unless, of course, it was bought by another,
The real owner of the statement.
I found myself wondering why it was
That one saw no "Very Good Girl",
But recalled that being thus
Was then actually being a pearl
Therefore, "Very Bad Girl" makes sense,
Hoping that it's not literal.
It should be seen through that lens
For otherwise it is truly lethal!
HANDMADE FROM (the genes of) BOYCE AND HARRIET HARRIS
(poetry my atypical mode at introducing myself).
How apropos and divine to stumble (merely by happenstance) across a chance to claim my (virtual) fifteen minute fragments of fame just in the click and nick of time.
Although gainfully unemployed (do to a series of unfortunate events that now finds me receiving social security disability), I can still vividly visualize utter despair and vouchsafe to acquire the requisite trappings emblematic of psychic misfortune.
Indelible, permanent and unfading abysmal damaging domestic dynamics got etched deep upon the memory of this erstwhile individual! The general gist in the form of quick brush strokes (namely written) of psychologically traumatizing recollection now follows.
I can attest to malevolent mean-spirited objections by my father (and late mother) in regard to my grossly unacceptable attire, deportment and work ethic.
Insidious harmony
inadequacy and impotence; infection of valet
destruction annihilates the human spirit
ballroom choreography reveals deficiency
stamina illuminated by revitalized behavior
impending fortitude seeks out the seeker
soaring ambitions will fertilize emergence
robust tenacity breeds dominating disposition
committing deportment flavors the hunger
concluding interlude contribute the means
seldom encountered but forever introduced
3/21/2021
I think I’ve lived another life,
Black Leather is my secret vice.
Its smell is faintly naughty…
On my skin it feels quite nice.
I think I was a wild thing,
Sorry I can not tell for sure.
But when the Angels motor by…
My thoughts are not so pure.
My dress is so very proper,
My deportment just a dream.
I will not cuss or take a drink…
I’m so boring I could scream.
But I think it wasn’t always so,
Perhaps Its really just some trick.
Faint visions keep me up at night…
Yikes, I think I was a Harley chick!
Purely fictional! Inspired by a goup of "riders"
..at least 100..that passed me on the freeway.
..at least 100, that passed
me on the freeway.