Best Dished Poems
Just as days long ago, when decorum resolved,
before composure, and poise,.. were corsages, unknown
Where propriety mattered, and was favored as gold,
high society, has gathered to flavor their tea
There's a trellis, embraced by a rose climbing vine
Places are set, for dining in jade
beneath shadows that stretch under arthritic old trees
While slivers of sunshine, squeeze through the branches
of silver leafed limbs, in magnolia bloomed shade
Tea will be served, by large knuckled hands
at several round tables dressed with Swiss lace designs
Wearing lavender silk is our proper Grand Dame'
who fits her surroundings, as vintage as wine
Voices are lilting like the birds in the trees
Laughter and chatter, mingle with soft, summer breezes
A bouquet of old friends, around a few scattered tables.
Silver coifed hairdos, to make celebration
Crepe myrtle and wrinkles, beneath ashes and maples
Water cress munchies, and triangle creations
Sweet honey-suckle, tucked over the porches.…
Rose petal blossoms, are painted on china
Bridge cards, tumble by Blue Willow dishes
Biscuits from England, crumble sublimely
Large bosoms bouncing, and big floppy hats
Gossip dished up with lemon-sliced frowns
Up in the tree is the neighbor's calico cat
who catches a glance, and a chance to crawl down
Are they ladies of leisure, from a time that is lost?
Or a painting I've seen on the wall from the past?
______________________________
Inspired By the Garden Party Contest
Sponsored By Cyndi McMillan 6/6/14
Categories:
dished, art, nostalgia, people,
Form:
Sonnet
I've always showered
care on ungrateful trees,
the ones that bloomed
and the ones that withered.
I watered them anyway.
In this chaotic world,
compassion is made slavery,
chained with entitlement
and false lovebites,
yet my tender heart
endures through the raid
and self-inflicted questions
of why I have to succumb
to an endless tide.
Sometimes in regret of why
goodness chose me as its heir,
I flip out, leaving the throne empty.
Though I wage wars not to be
kind anymore, I find myself retreating.
In the end, it is nature's course for me.
But should I drown in empathy
that l lose my mind? My use or
willingness to set boundaries
and say No when the shoes
don't fit my legs? For I have
been in the watch house
without looking. It took me
courage and self-awareness
to glare beyond the boiling surface.
I washed my eyes in
discernment and worth,
to dive past the silent suck.
I befriended clarity and in her depth,
I learnt to work with both minds.
For kindness doesn't exist to
drain me but help me find my path.
So I dished portions of bitter
sour soups to users and
drummers without rhythm,
Just to test their intent
and they smiled at its
sweetness.
They would forge a life in
death just to drain the
remaining water in my
well. I let them go in
thirst because there's barely
a drop left for me and my heart
has now tested the rough edges
of the valleys and the shape
of my eyes have been born anew.
So conscious, it wouldn't flinch
if dust was thrown in it.
And the lovers that used to ride
on my patchless boat, they have
now drowned, since the engines only
worked in the purity of their needs.
It is not I that led them to
destruction, It is their greed.
I offered them bandages still,
I showed them the path,
I directed them through the journey,
I didn't go with them else they would
make me lose my way and distract
me from the gold mine in front.
My peace has never been this full.
Full of happiness and Bluebells.
I am a Watchman that sees
through the dark forest and
I shall live a long life setting
those standards.
Still an heir to the throne
now I sit with an eagle eye.
My soul in good deeds
will never be used again.
Categories:
dished, deep, encouraging, giving, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Poor Santa Claus encountered a delay
There was thick fog that made him lose his way
He went on yellow pages
Then spent some of his wages
A gps he ordered for his sleigh.
Santa dotes on his true love – his missus
Even though she can be so suspicious
But he knows that with a kiss
He can fill her heart with bliss
In return she bakes him pies – delicious!
On Christmas night his tour was much in doubt
Because he ached all over due to gout
He thought of his appointments
Would not have disappointments
On Christmas night he dished his presents out.
[Let us spare a thought for Santa, come Christmas night;
in spite of all his problems and setbacks he still delivers!]
----------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: What’s Up With Santa
Sponsor: Jerry T. Curtis
Categories:
dished, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Tobruk Siege
Rommel of the Blitzkrieg
had Europe overcome
With the Stukas and dive bombing
And the Tanks that overrun
North Africka would see his tanks
il Duce’s troops were beat
Aussies took 20,000 Italians
At Tobruk in stinking heat
In Europe when his tanks arrived
The captured did surrender
The Poms escaped at Dunkirk
The English well remember
Morsehead an Aussie General
He baited the trap
Strategic mines, artillery, cooks
manned Italian guns , and ack ack.
Tobruk the Panzer tanks came in
The rats went down their holes (Desert Rats Aussie Diggers said Lord Haw Haw)
They rose behind the tanks
Wehrmact soldiers bullet holed
25 pounders fired at just point blank
with cooks and Pommy Armour
Were thinning German ranks
true blue these little charmers
So they blew the turrets off
16 of the best
Unbeaten until this point
A trace of fallen crest
8 long months they dished it out
Though Rommel tried again ……….(lost just as many tanks again)
He had to wait till the Aussies left
To take Tobruk from them
Don Johnson
70 years ago, the Afrika Korp would attack the 14,000 Aussies and Tommy Tank men, Also known as Rats.
The Tanks rolled into the perimeter, Aussies sprang from their holes and fought the German Soldiers behind the tanks, “We shut the gate behind them” the Aussies said.
This thorn in the side in Rommel ‘s mind allowed time for the massive replacement of
armour destroyed by Rommel, with American tanks. The siege held for 240 days in
what is now today’s , Gaddafi’s Lybria. These Aussies were used to living rough
sleeping on the ground
walking from town to town in the great depression, they were brought up on roo or pig shooting and the occasional rabbit.
Categories:
dished, adventure
Form:
Rhyme
No form, no function
just self-induced destruction
blocked receptors unravel
observing the undeserved
a second serving
of an unfinished novel
page by page pulled into their quarters
there's not one getting away
the ticker streams across the screen
and I can hear their screams
or so it seems
the bought, the sold
real stories never told
those dished and displayed
taking silence to the grave
whispers I hear whispers
I reach into the frozen waters
washing with it the angst away
parched taste buds now tingle
unfortunately tomorrow's another day
Categories:
dished, anger, conflict,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I can love and leave like they never mattered to me
Even though at one point you we’re a big part Of me
Idk why I do it I can’t let it be , I guess it’s because my first love still ghosted me
I try to end the cycle I try to be free
But in the end it’s you that’s still haunting me
I can still love you with all my heart and just up and leave
And I wonder why my first love never thinks of me
It’s like they know I’m just not meant to be
But in all reality your the one who done this to me
And I’m sorry to the people I let this be
If I told you the reason , y’all would throw the book at me
The heart is a funny thing , it’s running the game
But what do you do when your head and your heart is stuck in the same
The same never ending loop hoping something will change
But it never does so you try to brush it away
Find it in something new but after time it always goes back to you
I always knew I would get what I dished out
But why did it have to be from you
Categories:
dished, best friend, crush, dream,
Form:
Alexandrine
My God, i cant stay quiet,
for i took the wrong diet,
maybe i should have cooked it,
but impatience made me eat,
could not wait for lunch,
for i was hungry that much,
the dished passed across my nose,
waking up my hunger dose.
pass me the dish please,
i said with ease,
for i am hungry,
and when am hungry i get angry.
A thrust into the plate,
with great ecstasy i ate,
feeling happy,
each spoon had a different story.
Things later went sour,
felt bad at the wrong hour,
vomiting, my stomach broken,
whats the cause: food poison.
EzyFabanatu All Rights Reserved © 28th
March, 2014
Categories:
dished, absence, age, angel, anti
Form:
Canzone
It's not impossible that my house stink.
At times there festers garbage in a sack
behind a closet door, and once the sink
got clogged with who-knows-what; sent water back
up filthy and all black; I dished it out
scoop by nasty scoop into a pan.
That damn disposal broke. There was no doubt
my kitchen reeked, so I turned on a fan
and dropped some baking soda in the drain
(I'd heard it stopped most odors), but the worst
came next: a stench which I could not explain.
I searched my rooms. Six days my house was cursed
until I found it dead and hidden well -
a mouse I bet inhaled the kitchen's smell!
(true story but a little exaggerated!)
For Susan Burch's
Offensive Odors or Noise Pollution Poetry Contest
Categories:
dished, funny, house, house,
Form:
Sonnet
persecution is starting to grow
from coast to coast
persecution even comes from those
you care about the most
husbands wives sisters and brothers too
can sometimes even persecute you
persecution is dished out to us
like food on a plate
but we can call on the Lord it's never too late
take to the cross all your troubles
your burdens and your pain
for he will restore you and make you whole again
he will refresh you and make you anew
he will be with you no matter what you
have to go through
persecution is something we may not always understand
but there is comfort knowing
God is always with us
holding us in the palm of his hand
if your'e feeling persecuted or it feels like something is trying to make you fall
just hand it over to the Lord
for he's the one who will take care of it all.
2 Thessalonians 2: 3-12
We thank you Lord
that when persecution comes our way
you help us and strengthen us
in every single way
there is no problem to big or too small
whateevr our situation you help us face them all,
thank you for you Love
thank you that you care
thank you that your'e always there Amen.
I lift my eyes up to the mountain where does my help come from?
my help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. psalm 121 : 1-2
Categories:
dished, faith, hope, lifecare, care,
Form:
Rhyme
Rapid Response Turtle Team, R2T2, is their name, saving is their game!
They’re ‘Mary River Turtles’, headquartered in a submarine, but not tame.
Forever, on call: a better bunch of blokes, you've never met, is my take.
No one ever drowns, or leaves hurt, with them here, in this our Troll Lake.
They’re days are full, with Dragon, and the Troll Lake crowd, running a muck.
Imagine how, when Dragon barbecues, his fires get out of hand, yea, that sucks!
Fire hoses and extinguishers are these blokes’, most favorite playthings of all.
They even hand out towels, if you got wet, when the fires are put out, I recall.
Not to mention how great they are when Dragon begins to hiccup or sneeze.
Or when our penguins trip and fall, like little pinballs, yep, them, they retrieve.
But it’s always worth the trouble since; they’ve become family, true and tried!
They also teach safety and first aide classes, yes, they’re definitely, certified.
Apparently, we ALL are, here at Troll Lake, or so everyone seems to imply.
I think I know what they are getting at… And perhaps they are right! Sigh!
But the Rapid Response Turtle Team, are the best blokes, on this here earth!
As they command the hose, and it throws them all around, we fill with mirth!
It’s like riding a bucking bronco to them… but some how… the fires do go out!
They even have a medic mobile made from an old kids’ wagon, fully decked out.
Anyone, who can bring a submarine into our lake, sight unseen, can do ANYTHING!
It’s said: they’re agents sent, to protect Dragon, an endangered species. Honestly!
But, I think they’re here, to protect ‘US’ from Dragon’s, daily… dished out travails.
The Boo Boo’s he inflicts, are too numerous to count, between his fires and that tail.
They came to gain their muse, and be entertained by our daily, free for all, they say.
At night they’re guitars DO sing, merrily on, about all our crazy exploits, each day.
With pink tinted shells, and green algae Mohawks, they look like a true punk band.
And they say the submarine’s yellow, to honor some great and famous rock band.
Yes, they are a tad bit strange; but that just makes them fit in, on this, here land.
And we couldn't imagine life without them… They truly are… really, great lads!
Categories:
dished, fantasy, fun, funny, imagination,
Form:
Light Verse
AMID THE LUXURY OF NOW
It is prelude to spring
The honey and I are basking
On sun deck, in mid March warm breeze
He's reading King James, 'Genesis to Revelation'
I sit reading, 'Trick of The Eye' it's captivating.
Pine trees rustles in the wind
Squirrels I see frolicking
I pause for birds singing
The innocent voice of a child across fences is welcoming
In this military town of revolving doors
Even the sound of a barking dog, too, is welcoming.
I think to myself, how sad those years I lived half blind
I could now bask on veranda, overlooking calm Caribbean waters
Or dwell in cemented home on top floor, with panoramic view
Overlooking city of antiquity, now tourist town
Or own many mansions, furnished, surrounded by trees and sea.
Then just like that; warm breeze, with rustling pine
Dished nostalgia back to me, I heard:
'Amidst the luxury of now, to by gone buried years you'd bow?'
*
Categories:
dished,
Form:
Free verse
Well, I read in the paper today that Senator Feinstein has again gone berserk!
With the plethora of problems we have, she wants to give chickens a perk!
Never mind that millions of souls are out of work and on food stamps rely!
She opts to pursue the plight of chickens ignoring the needs of we small "fry!"
Seems she deems chickens' cages far too small for them to flap their wings!
The Constitution provides for freedom of speech and religion among other things,
But danged if I was aware that chickens had any such Constitutional rights!
This is taking our precious freedoms to unexplored and dangerous heights!
Perhaps "Maam" Feinstein is wooing votes from chicken pressure groups,
Crying "foul" for the right to improve living conditions in their cozy coops!
Her legislation increases fowls' living area to 144 square inches of space!
She deems the way egg-laying hens now exist is an utter disgrace!
Let me hasten to say that for all of God's creatures I have great compassion,
But the nation is headed for Hades! Must the quandary of hens be our passion?
Her statute requires eggs to be labeled so we'll know how hens were raised.
And the size of henhouses must be increased! La-de-da and the Lord be praised!
Senator, may I suggest that you find something more productive to do,
Such as protecting our borders and providing for the hungry and homeless too!
I don't recall that chickens can vote! (Perhaps that is open for future debates!)
Yours is a "half-cracked" plan being dished out on our overly-saturated plates!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
dished, funny, political,
Form:
Rhyme
I remember it was a cold morning
There was down pour of rain the previous day
It was still drizzling a bit
It was an airy morning very quiet
Remember the smell of rain
Very fresh morning
For the first time in a long while
I remembered my wife Lucinda
We had been estranged
That morning all I thought of was the cross
The forgiveness of all my sins by Jesus
That day I made up my mind to forgive Lucinda
Forgiveness for adultery
It was the fourteenth day of February
What a coincidence with Valentine’s Day
I drove to Lucinda’s house
I could hear my heart beating
Out of anxiety of how she will receive me
Our separation was quite nasty
At her door I fidgeted with the bell
Lucinda was speechless when she saw me
We didn’t speak a word to one another
I hugged her in an embrace that was like eternity
We still didn’t speak but we knew what we were saying to one another
My heart reached out to her, like the father and his prodigal son
Lucinda was my high school sweet heart
When we got home
Lucinda’s heart and my heart had a dialogue
I had forgiven her totally
Forgiveness the gift of love
Love that covers multitude of sins, casting out every fear
I made dinner that night, dished it out and washed the dishes afterwards
We didn’t have much money but we celebrated love with what we love
Especially with the gift of ourselves
Lucinda knew I was a dry man
So she warmed the atmosphere with some scented candles
And Peabo Bryson music
There was no more quarrel but tranquillity
It was romance at its best
I gave Lucy a gift and her eyes lighted up with surprise
That night we privately exchanged our vows again
Hmmmmm it was a happy day, night, hour, second
Thank you Jesus
My home was restored again on Valentine’s Day
Lucinda broke the silence
When she looked at me and in a love coated voice
She said to me I love you my boo
My heart leaped, as I responded with tears in my eye and emotion laden voice: I know
Jehovah is indeed love
And he still performs miracles
It is good to let go of hurts and embrace reconciliation, I said in my thoughts
Thinking of all that had happened
Forgiveness begins with self and ends with the recipient of mercy
God still sings and still speaks even on valentines day
Lets listen and we will surely hear
Categories:
dished, celebration, devotion,
Form:
Ballad
School Dazed at Princess High
She was such a pretty talker
Yet she was still my frenemy
The lies she spoke were convincing
She dished a lot of dirt on me
Each of my buds they believed her
Blue eyes and a beautiful face
I tried to limit the damage
Instead I became a disgrace
Her mean words she wrapped in flowers
Soft petals slipping off her tongue
Barbed words she concealed in colours
Each sylable she said really stung
None of them could see her ugly
Until she turned her words on them
As each of them started to notice
They wished to be my friend again
The girl she learned all about Karma
A verbal punch disguised with a smile
Knocked down from the perch of a princess
Kids much prefer substance over style
If you're acquainted with a pretty talker
It's really best that you stay away
No reason to become a target
Don't take part in the games that they play
For SKAT's Pretty Talker Contest
Categories:
dished, angst, bullying, friendship, girl,
Form:
Quatrain
When my son was young and so very, very wild…
I loved him dearly for he was my child.
But I feared the drugs, alcohol, and friends he did keep.
I knew they would destroy him, as I found my Eyes do weep.
We found a private High school with new peers to seek.
Miraculously, He found his own way back, and to college he did leap.
He chose a college and fraternity far away, as my eyes blurred again.
But the day he was on his own, became the best that’s ever been.
His fraternity became his brothers, and advice they dished out.
Study time became important, with gentlemanly behavior devout.
I’ll thank them each, in the leadership and help they all showed.
I’ll thank my son for growing up, and for becoming who we now know.
Community service brought blood drives, and teaching inner city kids.
They worked on their fraternity house, reclaiming it from the skids.
All parties had designated drivers to take every body home, all right.
They gathered clothes for the homeless to brighten up their life.
They built Homes For Humanity for to work he was never adverse.
Then, to add to the rest, he continued to work to become a nurse.
He put himself through college working in a hospital and ambulance.
He had learned a reverence for life, happiness, and yes, even patience.
My wild, wild son has found purpose in life and peace at long last.
And again my eyes do weep… This time with love so vast...
Written 11-09-2011
Categories:
dished, adventure, angst, childhood, confusion,
Form:
Couplet