Best Dole Out Poems
IV
A soul was broken to make room
For dusty halls and labyrinths.
A gossamer, nylon bed-sheet shroud
Enwraps the remnants of that mind.
And no excuses can be made;
This disease does not justify that one.
I do not sleep deeply, I do not wake easily,
I dream of cities built on sand,
Next to the swelling sea.
Oh, they should have lasted.
Why should they fall?
I dream of timber horses,
Brought between those city walls.
We should have known; we should have known better.
III
But, I am not an honest mystic;
Beware what you ask of me.
I will show truths within the liar's tapestry.
But, you will not believe; no, you cannot believe.
II
I howled for my motherland
When the mutiny began.
I heard the cry of treason; heard the cry and ran.
I saw blood be spilled,
Some of it my own, then
Felt the rest boil, that this could happen in my home.
I saw the battle through, until the very end,
Then wished the traitors pardoned,
Because they were my friends.
I
I cannot tell the difference
Between the sleeping and the dead,
So, I will dole out blankets, and keep the kettle on.
The streets are cracked and dirty,
And they all appear the same:
Shattered glass and roofing tacks
Where I place my bare and weary feet.
I don't want to go on.
But, I must rebuild; I must rebuild.
I have no grass to lay,
The trees and flowers will not grow,
So, I shall use nothing, but mortar, brick, and stone.
It's not the same; it is not the same,
But, I shall call it home.
(Thank God, when I posted my poem a second time , I could enter it in the contest. But I am retaining my old post as I have many comments on it . I thank all my poet friends who helped me with suggestions, especially Mystic Rose Rose. My soupmail is non functional most of the time)
The naked hills are clad in snow
Blurring the houses that line up in a row
The wind that blows is icy chill
Freezing cold is the water of the rill
Trees, stand stripped and bare
But so much gaiety is in the air
Lightings from all houses shine
Sending out a radiance divine
Christmas trees stand finely decorated
Cribs are colourfully illuminated
The day has come when Christ was born
In our midst as the greatest boon
He came not in glory arrayed
But in a poor man’s rags clad
Took birth not in a palace of gold
But in a deserted manger of old
Poor shepherds were the sole witness
They beheld his radiant face in stillness
The whole world is under his magic sway
As love for all is his wondrous way
Jesus came down from Heaven on Earth
To offer the world its true mirth
To dole out the priceless treasure of peace
To see all bitterness and enmity cease
Merry ditties shall echo from every street
And children will sing Christmas carols sweet
From the angelic band will rise the refrain
“Peace on Earth and goodwill to all men”
Nov.20. 2022
~ Placed Eighth~
Most Beautiful Christmas Poem Contest
Sponsor – Mystic Rose Rose
And
Goat heads, cockleburs, and cow pies.
These are the things
we live with, in the country.
Some you step on,
some travel in your clothes,
and some stink.
Foxtails.
That sounds so beautiful.
They are terrible.
They cling and bring pain
to the feet of dogs.
Don't get me started...
on mosquitoes and blood-sucking vermin...
that find us all in the day,
and in the night.
Yet we still go outside.
We still want to touch,
trees, and flowers...
and lay in the grass.
Ticks stay away,
fleas go somewhere else.
This is the best place,
to be calm and set the pace...
backward, or at least slowdown.
Chores make the time pass without notice.
Tired muscles and an achy back
replace the need to be concerned...
about the small things.
Yet inside,
peace reigns.
Even at the cost of life's
tiny inconveniences,
there is a payment of joy,
that only He can dole out.
Your best investment lies in God’s hands
Which guarantee life, love and boundless care
Regardless of kinds and types of lands
Which your feet dare to walk without forking out any fare
In kind or slush cash
Men and women whose whims
Reduced at death to mere ash
In their temperamental and sentimental teams
Depending on their tricks or moods
Choose to dole out
In their woods
Filled with mood swing and doubt
Until to the core of your mind
Comes the realization
That in men and women
Lies neither your salvation mission nor determination
To bring to fruition the destiny
God in his purpose
Chose not in your mutiny or calumny
But from his original source
Because in the end only God has the wherewithal
To anticipate, explicate, facilitate, replicate success in your every need
Without under fire a retreat tactical or strategic withdrawal
To ensure that your dreams, missions, portions and options succeed
In addition, God loves you too much
To let you continue to fail
Within every critical touch or dream bunch
In your heart, your home or in your self-inflicted jail.
How often I have imagined your face
Leaning in to kiss my cheek goodnight,
Your gentle hand stroking my hair;
Your voice, last I heard before daylight.
Each day, shortly after morning dawn,
You'd sing in the shower, your favorite song.
How great you'd smell with your cologne,
A manly scent that lingered all day long.
You'd cook your special scrambled eggs,
And we'd converse of plans we had that day.
Your hug goodbye would make me feel secure;
Those loving things conveyed a father's way.
Yes you existed, in my mind you were so real.
Each Father's Day I would imagine you...
You'd teach me things and dole out sage advice.
Alas, an absent father who I never knew.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Happy Father's Day to all you wonderful father's who have
dedicated your lives to raising your children.
They're selling off our Airport, does anybody care?
The old Gazette's done nothing yet, no 'Save it' campaign there
The Echo there in Darlo seems quite reluctant to
Investigate the Peel Magnate and what they're pushing through
We contacted the BBC to find out what they thought
They built a reputation on injustices they've fought
But Inside Out's done less than nowt, it all seems too much hassle
Imagine the furore if it happened at Newcastle
It seems our dithering councillors sold off the legacy
Of half a million users, all done on the Q.T.
Our MPs tell us nothing, and, quieter than a mouse
Is the sinister young Minister of the Northern Poorhouse
Freedom of Information's not easy to obtain
Rumours of secret deals done, we hear now and again
But calls fall on deaf ears, to them it's all a game
Elected representatives should hang their heads in shame
It looks like asset-stripping, part of the business creed
As Peel dole out their reasons to mask their business need
And those we chose to serve us must surely think we're blind
I wonder who's being treated well, in my suspicious mind. CHING CHING.
We had a bustling airport, to us a little gem,
But giving up our heritage means simply nowt to them,
They're gonna build the factory sites and houses everywhere
They're killing off our airport and no one seems to care.
They're killing off our airport and no one seems to care.
WATCH ME SING THIS IN CONCERT. YOUTUBE
'AIRPORT' LOUIS SPENCE. Thank You
What makes a child feel closer to one parent rather than to the other?
Although love bound me to the heart of my mother,
it was to my Father's side that I chose to cling.
He was always the first up in the morning, even before the sun.
He knew as a farmer, his work in the fields was never done.
I remember my first day of school. He was the bus driver.
Timid little me, I looked out the window and there he was,
peering back at me. I ran from the room and into his arms.
After a hug he looked me in the eye and said. "Don't cry."
I thought I was home free,
but my Dad took me by the hand and walked me back to my desk.
My Dad, he always knew how to handle me.
I wanted no part of housework.
To the fields I followed him after school.
It was our time to talk about our dreams, problems, whatever was on our minds.
He never stopped, not even after open heart surgery...twice.
It slowed him down, but never made him quit.
I watched the strength in him fade away,
day after day he lost the battle of ill health.
His kidneys were shutting down and he finally lost his will to live.
The last time he opened his eyes I kissed him goodbye and he could only smile.
That night he went into a coma and I prayed to God that He let him die.
I've never felt guilty about those prayers.
I'd already lost my Father to sleep.
I have no bad memories of my Dad.
He was never the one to dole out a spanking.
He was my buddy; my hero in every sense of the over used word.
We hunted together~ he taught me to drive a tractor ~ I could go on.
He loved me as much as I still love him.
I was blessed to have such a wonderful father, and grandfather to my children.
=================================================
December 31st, 2015 Tell About your Dad Contest: Sponsor: Judy Konos
The lines have been drawn
The battle commenced
Each voter a pawn
Each party seems tensed.
They’ve argued the topics
All blurred the same lines
We muse on our prophets
Determine our swines.
Does one vote for their country?
Or just seek our own gain
Chasing lollies quite bluntly
Causing decades of drain.
You know no sweeties from strangers
Could ever end well
But in spite of the dangers
You’re tempted to kiss and not tell.
You’ve tried to do study
Policies, farming, and crime
Snatched beliefs from some buddies
Hell research on Facebook saves time.
Days to polling have dwindled
There’s claims of rich serving up poo
Yet when the economy’s swindled
Shucks, we’d work for a tranny named Sue.
Oh how the experts do surface
Daily their ranks seem to swell
Poems and posing’s are posted
It’s social media hell.
There’s calls for compassion
Never an end to the queue
Yet when they dole out the rations
It’s from my plate to you.
So we each vote for our promise
Mine? Well it really means well
To be frank and quite honest
I hope the reds go to hell.
The bastards who dole out abuse
Like seeing my neck in a noose
But they've only sewn
A razor-edged kidney stone
Which for them has pain to induce
Author's note: Abuse can be enforced poverty and economic unfairness, forced relocation, racism and discrimination, religious intolerance, rape, forced labor, abduction, a lack of peace (of mind) and numerous other things. Life shouldn't seem like it's happening in a concentration camp. People need to have dreams and hope and know that they can have a job and that work will pay off. Are these the root cause issues of unrest we should address, or do we just build a bigger set of fences everywhere and see what happens?
Armed infantrymen cross alien dust
Braving perils posed in on the lands
Courageous hearts, for the sake of freedom
Defend our rights with preen and pain
Enduring duty tours after duty tours
Fight for the nation, never questioning
Grateful we are to all those brave-hearts
Humbly we thank what they deserve
In deference to sere self-sacrifice
Just cause resounds in their battle cries
Kneel we ought to say a prayer for them
Let love be conferred on them who are there
Miles and miles they march thro’ stride and strife
Never mind night or day, risking limb and life
Offer our thanks on this blessed day
Pray and bow down heads to God
Quietly render words of respect and reverence
Reveling in their daring deeds
See how snowflakes sit on the window sill
Twinkling stars dole out good grace
Unequaled peers, each of them
Venting emotions through cheers or tears
Wish we ought to, for these martyrs
Xenocrysts set and carved in stones
Yet their memories will return
Zeal echoes in each and every house.
+++
August 18, 2014
Form Abecedarian
First Place Win
Contest: Abecedarian by Shadow
MY OLD BOSSES FUNERAL
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Went to the funeral of my old boss
After several speakers I was at a loss
Who was this person they were eulogizing
Kind words and praise was so surprising
I knew him well for many, many years
Despised by family and also his peers
He was a tough boss that never praised
The toil of his workers, most thought him crazed
One speaker after another had bountiful praise
They must be mistaken or in a mental daze
Like I said I knew him well
Being around him was a living hell
His ex wife had nothing to say
His two daughters couldn’t make it today
His son sent a card but forgot to sign
It said” hi mom” are you having a good time?
I had an eerie feeling throughout the service
These lauding comments were making me nervous
I had to make sure I was in the right place
Walked up to the casket and stared at his face
I had to touch him to see if he’s cold
Lipstick and rouge made him look old
Underneath the makeup he was turning gray
Get him underground don’t wait another day
Sure enough the old codger was dead
But I couldn’t believe the plaudits said
He was a bitter psychotic misanthrope
He was cheap a bigot a total mope
He was intolerant abusive and never approved
To belittle and disarm was his every move
The praising went on like a marathon
It sounded as if they’re sorry he’s gone
It must be that he had more than one side
They’re talking about Dr. Jekyll I knew Mr. Hyde
BOSS’S FUNERAL (2)
Later I learned what the praise was all about
He left a fortune for his rep to dole out
Total discretion for his rep to give away
To anyone that had something real to say
Everyone here and others previously chosen
To say a few words about the recently frozen
They all praised and offered exaltations
Expecting a big payoff for their commendations
But when the will was officially opened
Not a thing awarded to those who had spoken
Instead everything was willed to his son
Cause he was best to continue his fathers run
Of all of my kin and friends it was easy to see
My son is a son of a ***** just like me
So he gets my wealth and also my genes
He’ll succeed using unscrupulous schemes
When its his time to turn from ecru to gray
He can expose the hypocrites as I did today
Keep
Away from
Light not what
Letters of words,
Engraved in poetic
Order, I beautifully
Have dole out for your pleasure.
And as I lay down to rest amongst
Artists of the greatest verses of poems
Seasoned with salt, forget not Kalle O Haas
How I look forward to October the thirty-first each year!
Though the autumn be chilly and the weather a bit drear,
I have the pleasure of meeting strange little imps by the score,
As they visit, lisping "twick or tweat" at my front door!
The door bell rings constantly it seems as I leap to me feet,
Wondering about the wierd characters that I shall meet!
Will it be a devil or an angel or a frightful ghost?
Whoever it might be, I must be a generous host!
Hordes of fairies, cowboys and Indians grace my stoop,
Along with sheriffs, desperados and soldiers by the troop!
Ferocious pirates, scary skeletons and dreadful witches,
Leer and grin at me, nearly scaring me out of my britches!
Standing regally is a king and queen, each wearing a crown,
Along with their court jester, a gaudily bedecked clown!
There's a sweet little princess decked out in ribbons and lace,
Smiling demurely with cute dimples on her pretty face!
A little secret with which those little monsters I'll never share,
But I'll clue you in on my own little Halloween trick if I dare -
I dole out bubblegum, candy corn and stuff I don't care for much,
But keep the Snickers bars, Babe Ruths, Hershey Kisses and such!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I was told in the beginning
That a wish may not well be unicorn
With two winged thrust-thronged
To soar upon the cumulus,
And for those who are wishing
Wishes to fall on their laps
Were wholly rendered redundant,
Those who want to attain,
Tainted and tarnished past attainment
Forgetting forward fortune
And glory in goods temporary.
Now those who dole out mischief;
Sowing the seed of acrimony
Rotten in corruptible credo
Reshuffling reservoir of redundancy
To establish the roots of inertia,
Of Demo-CRAZY
Of masq-UERADES
Of lob-BEASTS
Of cons-titu-PATION
Of elders
Of fools
Of economy
Of pain
Of nemesis
Of crying jags
And hopelessness, deep furrows on wanton minds
Remembering the deceit of denigration
That brought doomed to deserving daddies
That it is always a surprise,
Unwilling stallion in the midst
Of same blind, semblance sahibs,
A remembrance of the past remembrance
Raising the boys to take the Salutary gauntlet
of the favour done
To pave the way
For stock taking and a quiet get out,
Of the unending, pass measure euphoria,
Then it fell on the laps
Of a fiery warrior; then
The dance of the macabre
And a sycophantic applause,
Mutatis mutandis, endless queues
Of rebounding stomachs
Roaming, rounder the ruins
Recounting remnant reservoir
Denouncing, declaring deceiving
All one enmeshed in the same pot
For the final stir of the arbiter.
Zimbabwe we hear your country screaming
We're powerless to help you you're at the mercy of a party thats murderous and
scheming
Robert Mugabe and his thugs the Zanu PF
They deny you free elections instead they dole out death
The world see's your pain but hears only one mans voice
Your human rights violated he's taken away your freedom of choice
The United Nation's and the peacekeepers won't intercede in this mess
If it was me that was in power and the balance i could redress
It would'nt take an army
6 men
3 letters
S.A.S