Best Dianne Poems
One dollar and eighty seven cents was hardly enough to buy
a Christmas present. Aside from the gold watch gifted to him
by his dad, that was all James and Della had. Della had long
blond hair that reached down to her knees. James would often
tease her by calling her Goldilocks. But she always reminded him
that she was more like Rapunzel.
Their neighbors, John and Dianne were quite wealthy.
However Dianne was battling cancer, and had lost all her hair.
On Christmas eve the two couples went shopping for gifts.
Della, desperate to buy a gift for James sold her hair to a ritzy
beauty salon. With the funds from that sale she bought James
a chain for his gold watch. Meanwhile, James sold his watch
and bought Della an assortment of beautiful combs and hair clips.
On Christmas morning the presents were opened. James was stunned
to find that Della had cut off all her hair. Della was shocked to learn
that James had sold his gold watch. John was quite pleased with
the gold watch Dianne got him. And she looked ravishing in the wig
of long blond hair John got her. One dollar and eighty seven cents
wasn't much at all, but the gift of love is priceless. Merry Christmas!
by Robert (Bob) Moore © 2016
For all who suffer Arthritic pain
they know when it’s going to rain
aches in joints, won’t go away
just got to get through another day
We all have it to some degree
I know you feel it more than me
I try to support you when I can
and do some jobs, but I’m just a man
Can’t do the wash the way you like
I think it’s only in your psych
blacks and whites don’t wash together
hang things out, but watch the weather
That can fade, hang inside out
that will need three pegs no doubt
hang by the top, to keep it straight
coat hanger there, to take the weight
cooking needs a whole new plan
I used to cook as a single man
but eggs and bacon wont suit her needs
something fancy, full of seeds
Steak Dianne, that sounds real nice
Worcester sauce and oven fries
thickened cream and parsley fine
a dash of Brandy, or maybe wine
I really wish that I could do it
people say there’s nothing to it
if that’s what she wants, then all I say
you can make it, when your better eh.
Housekeeping is where I really shine
vacuum, dusting, it all looks fine
don’t move the armchairs, don’t look behind
‘cause if you do, then dust you’ll find
Then into the bathroom, that’s a lovely place
scrub the grout and tiles, till you can see your face
all the glass and mirrors, must be bright and clean
and finish with the toilet bowl, polished to a sparkling sheen.
I proudly say “I’m Finished” (it’s taken me 2 days)
and now comes the inspection, to learn the error of my ways
that’s nice she says, its saved me time, and I’m feeling better too
and the rain may clear tomorrow, so thanks a lot to you.
(she’s nice)
You're my hero this month, Dianne.
You brought down your unfaithful man.
"Luv Guv," now your ex,
was wild about sex.
One staffer was his greatest fan.
A text meant for her went to you!
Months later you'd bid him adieu,
but first you'd make dang
sure hubby would hang.
Your quiet "campaign" would ensue.
Your audio tapes would assist
the Ethics Committee, whose fist
would come down hard--POW!
The truth is out now.
Tax payers know they have been dissed.
To cover his sins, "Luv Guv" used
their tax dollars. No one's amused!
He's charged; now he'll pay
in more than one way.
All know he was rightly accused.
May 1, 2017, entered in Brian Strand's May Day Premier contest: 25-line max,
any topic or form
Last month, Robert Bentley was forced to resign as Governor of Alabama--
after days of refusing to resign on the grounds he'd done nothing illegal,
the affair. When all of IT hit the fan--that he'd committed crimes by using tax payers' money for cover-up efforts--he had no choice but to step down.
Information (phone records, texts, and tapes) provided by his wife (then-wife) of fifty years led to his downfall. I do admire her. She kept her cool and did the right thing!
He's been charged with two misdemeanors and is to perform community service
in his area of expertise--dermatology. This fact was in the most recent article I read.
This poem was inspired by Mrs. Dianne McGee’s post earlier on Face Book.
It was the very first day of school
In Mrs. Thompson’s 5th. Grade class
An untruth came from inside her
That probably wouldn’t be the last
She’d said she loved everyone of them
But in reality one of them just didn’t suit her eye
The ragged clothes, his unkempt ways
And the boy sometimes would cry
She’d noticed him the year before
And for some reason he just didn’t fit in
His body odor, his wayward eyes
And his frame that seemed pretty thin
She prayed he’d just quit her class
And no longer put a burden on the school
She delighted in giving him big lettered F’s
As she just thought of him as a fool
Today was the day for student evaluations
And boy was she going to toss the book
At the ragged good for nothing kid
That probably would become just a crook
She decided to read what his other teachers wrote
And sat back in her easy chair
A surprised look came upon her face
As she could only blink and stare
Miss Ellen, his first grade teacher
Said he was a joy to be around
And his second grade teacher agreed
No finer student could be found
His third grade teacher however
Said he just couldn’t seem to adjust
Since his mother died of leukemia
There was nobody he would trust
The fourth grade teacher told of his dad
A drunkard who beat Timmy now and again
The boy then went inside his shell
And that’s where he’s always been
Mrs. Thompson was beside herself
Lord if she had only known
She wouldn’t have put Timmy down
While she sat highly upon her throne
Today was Mrs. Thompson birthday
And the children brought presents in
All wrapped and sealed at the store
“Now where shall I begin?”
She opened every present
And thanked each child in return
But when she saw a wrinkled bag
Her eyes just watered and burned
Inside the bag was a half empty bottle
Of perfume Timmy had saved of his mom’s
She sprayed some upon her and smiled
For what little Timmy had done
When recess rolled around at last
And the other children ran out to play
Timmy spoke to Mrs. Thompson
“You smelled just like my mommy today”
A LADY
"No lady am I." she would say with force,
tensing her shoulders and shaking her head.
I would smile and say, "Yes dear, but of course."
knowing she was truly a lady bred.
A spirited woman by her own design,
Dianne would speak out just what she thought.
Biting her own tongue was just too benign.
Being equal to men is what she sought.
A lady to pamper, that she was not.
A woman to love is what I knew well.
Inside that body was a love so hot.
She kept it hidden beneath a thin shell.
Woman of passion forever to shine.
I love you my lady, forever mine.
ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL AND THE TRAMP
Thousands, perhaps millions of wily, desperate tramps have always been,
But this one far away across the seas was an unusual scene,
Lying on a slab of stone,
He had no existing home,
Thin, dirty and hungry, present in a place so pristine!
There are so many around and everywhere about,
But this tramp, above all others, no doubt stood out,
We saw him on holiday,
Whist on a trip to the UK,
T’was a man, couldn't’ tell alive or dead, but stout!
Where did we see this aging, neglected human being
At St. Paul’s Cathedral, in the foyer as you walk in,
Could see that he meant no harm
For inquisitive tourists, worked like a charm,
I felt awed by the spiritual presence of God, ever seeing.
Sunday, had gone to early mass, chilly put on our shawls
Humbled with its historic architecture and solid walls,
Princess Dianne married Prince Charles here,
She had no clue her funeral was near,
Forgetting everything, took part in mass in total enthral!
Heard angelic unbroken voices of pre-teen boys choir
Our family was spiritually enveloped, never been here prior,
We took our seats, no other noise,
Service ended with hymns from the boys
All dressed in rich red robes and outfits, ecclesiastical attire!
People permitted to walk around the cathedral, we saw tombs,
Royalty buried in this remarkable place, perhaps died with gloom,
History took place inside St. Paul's,
With its secret passages and halls,
And many controversial theological disputes solved in back rooms!
Remembered the tramp, was he OK, was he breathing,
Someone nudged him he didn’t move, another started her healing,
Were concerned, thought it should be reported,
He was dirty as soot, his hair knotted,
The tramp, nonchalantly sat up, stretched and disappeared, hymns singing!
Packets of food and milk were tucked in a corner,
And two blankets and a duvet, and an old pullover,
People from around and all the priests,
Saw he had essentials, no whisky treats,
The tramp was happy in his sanctuary like little Jack Horner.
Crash.
Pounding.
I Hit Him,
Sinking nails in.
His Wails soar Louder.
My Frustrations Leave Me;
For now, I feel Less Alone.
Delightful Dirges always help...
But then my Mom Storms in, Hands on Hips.
"Bethani Dianne, turn that Piano Down!"
THE BRUSH
I stand in my shower covered with soap.
I rinse off alone. I feel out of phase.
I see the brush hanging there by its rope.
Unused it has hung for many long days.
Used by Dianne, caressing her body.
It gave pleasure while cleaning her back.
The brush explored, sensual not bawdy.
Its use she applied with love and a knack.
I live my life much like that of the brush.
No longer do I caress her with love.
Nor give her pleasure, making her blush.
For now she looks upon us from above.
Today all alone, we both try to cope.
I covered with soap, the brush on its rope.
Ushering forth from the womb
Born into this world with a
silver spoon awaiting
The burden of one's title responsibility
and family name
This became and turned into a
derivative of entitlement of grandeur
and selfish indulgence
Until such day as the bright lights and a
A-list Hollywood actress came stealing
him away
And so swept up in the desire and thought
of love
He lost his very way only to realize
1 fateful day to late
That what he had in fact sold his soul
out for
Was instead a ticket to the most superficial
disingenuous circus whirlwind show ever
witnessed on planet earth
That unfortunately for him never in his
wildest dreams ever have conceived
Sadly for you Harry though when all is said
and done
And I am sure over time you will
eventually realize
Megan is not and will never be on
a par or a substitute for Dianne
your mother
And you will only likewise ever have
1 Father and 1 Brother
Who I hazard a guess have your best
interests at heart
More than your new found friend's
such as talk show hosts
Oprah and James
I once met a young lady from France
Who was having a tourist's romance
With a man from Cheyenne
Whose first name was Dianne
The French like leaving gender to chance
10-6-19
As he sped down the highway late one night
A beautiful hitch hiker he happened to see
He stopped and did what was right
And picked up this mysterious beauty
She smiled and said her name was Dianne
He introduced himself as Sam
The truth was she was an alien
Hours before her spaceship did land
But when Sam tried to get fresh
She took a bite out out of his flesh
He screamed in pain as blood spurted everywhere
This pretty hitch hiker was now a monster to be feared
In a matter of minutes Sam was dead
Down the highway the hitch hiker now sped
She arrived in the next town about 8:15
Just in time for Halloween
That night she feasted on vampires
And bit off the nose of a witch
But the zombies pushed her in the ditch
And feasted on her till she twitched
It was a lesson to this alien queen
Never visit earth on Halloween....
never noticed this feature before lol will come in handy when the muse as done a runner and its your loved ones birthday
Your skin glows like the apple, blossoms beautiful as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your trumpet voice and leaps like a dog at the whisper of your name, dianne.
The evening ascends in on a great dove wing.
I am calmed by your skirt that I carry into the twilight of tree beams and hold next to my arms.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of wine.
As my legs falls from my shoes, it reminds me of your hand.
In the hushed, I listen for the last shout of the spring.
My heated lips leaps to my scarf. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret road so that we may run as one, lips to lips, in search of the glorious red and spiritual moon of love.
I was born on March 1st, 1953.
I was the only male new born in Flushing Hospital's nursery.
I also have four younger sisters in my family.
Sherry, Roxanne, Dianne and Li-Li.
From my very moment of birth women have influenced me greatly,
be they mother, sibling, lover or family.
I often ponder and wonder how my life now would be
if not for All The Great Women who have influenced me.
She could in the chamber resume
Her role holding off pending doom
Dianne Feinstein is fit
In the Senate to sit
If her body we’d only exhume
In the City of Galactic Beings of light, there is no disease no feast or famine
floodlight beings from another dimension take our best interest at heart
They own Divine connection to each and every one of us
as they pour out light, truth and inspiration they help us to
stay connected to each other...
They lead us to inspired thought and action, 22 intergalactic races
living in communion as one under one big beautiful, pulsing sun
The battle has been won already, we just need to open our eyes and see
that the destruction of humanity is on a set course for a re-awakening
we will all soon move like luminous vapors into the nimbus light of God
some of us limping, some of us whole, some of us sectioned off
but we will All be loved under the big red umbrella of UNCONDITONAL LOVE
The Poem Is Dedicated To My Friend Dianne
Without Her Love And Understanding, I would not have understood
the grandeur side of this wonderful act of selfless love...