Best Doled Out Poems
Twenty Pints of Sunshine
David J Walker
It seemed to be the only thing
In abundance on the farm
The light and heat
The shine so bright
Long days
short nights
And work doled out in the mornings
Today we will bottle in bell jars
20 pints of sunshine
And call it canning
A summer seasons planning
Saved for the
Short days
The long nights
Of freezing winter weather
To be opened
It says
When sleet falls in December
When the woods are wet and dreary
When the farm is fallow
When sunshine can only be found
In pint-sized
Bell Jar bottles
It was on a Christmas Eve
early in the morn
into a world so often cold
a little girl was born.
Her parents, they did love her,
the way that it should be
but her father, who's a good man,
had been raised with cruelty.
When he doled out punishment
for all her childish ways
the lessons that he taught her
would stay with her all her days.
Growing up was never easy
and she grew up so confused.
Other kids did more than tease her
and at home she was abused.
But she grew up all the same
then came to that time of life
when she thought she was ready
became a mother and a wife.
They faced a lot of hardships
but tried to love anyway
and her husband, who does love her,
has been so mean along the way.
Yes, life is hard for everyone
this woman surely knows.
Hate and misunderstanding
seems to follow where she goes
with so many quick to tell her
that she is always wrong
so many times she has been shown
that she just don't belong.
She tries so hard to understand
the reasons for her tears
and is punished for her feelings
as she has been all her years.
She knows that there is more to life
than what always seems to be.
All she wants is to be loved
without the cruelty.
Note: My dear friends, this is not an easy write for me but a necessary one. I was at a very
low point in my life and I prayed for God for direction or to let it end. I wrote the poem I Am
then joined PoetrySoup. I know God led me to this wonderful site for a reason. I may still
have a long way to go but I am starting to move forward. I want to thank you all for your
encouragement and kindness. Being able to write again is helping me and as fellow writers,
I know you understand. Thank you for sharing with me and teaching to become a better
writer. God bless you all and Happy Holidays! Love, Robin.
I was reminiscin' the other day about times that were more sublime,
And got to thinkin' about those old stores called Kresge's Five and Dime.
I recall browsin' through Kresge's Stores as a lad with Mom and Dad.
There ain't no more Kresge's Stores as far as I know and that is very sad.
There was a Kresge's in every sleepy town along Main Street.
Sittin' on a stool at the lunch counter was always a special treat.
Munchin' on a hotdog and tater chips and then a slab of cherry pie,
Or maybe a sundae concocted by the soda jerk would lighten up my eye!
Notions galore were displayed on tables, bins, racks and shelves.
Friendly clerks stood by to help but folks generally helped themselves.
The cashier put yer money in a tube that sailed off into space,
And in a trice returned yer change from some mysterious place!
I recall the squeaky wooden floors and visitin' the store at Christmas time,
When Santa Claus doled out bags of candy to kids at each Five and Dime.
Alas, those neighborhood stores have been replaced by huge national chains,
And only pleasant memories of Kresge's Five and Dime Stores remains.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Before the blast in April's darkened sky. . .
before the electrifying surge of insurgency -
when trucks and tanks were used to block the roads, and
when men and even boys were sought to aid in one malicious purpose. . .
before the rampant slaughter -
the raining of machetes down on flesh and bones
and the cornucopia of corpses left like butchered carcasses
on highways, nearby houses and in churches. . .
before the plundering, the rapes and mutilations
and the exodus of thousands to death-infested camps,
there were whisperings -
insidious and portentous to the ears of the wisely suspicious -
and a voice on the airwaves spewing hate.
Before it all,
there was a brewing of resentment
of a people with a history of poverty and
of transitory freedom and capricious politics.
And through it all, with such grave consternation,
governments debated. . . waited. . . . . . . and waited,
playing with semantics
while thousands dead became the hundred thousand,
and three long months - unrivaled for its number of atrocities -
came to its completion.
Seemingly, peace has been restored
and punishment stingily doled out.
Time moves on . . .
except for half a million
for whom compassion by the world
was spared.
Those who saw prairies bloom
Remember well the dams he built
Filling their abundant reservoirs
Growing harvests they cherished
Being the only bridge they had
Standing over turbulent streams.
When the nights reign moonless
And clouds churn mighty storms
Most people still remember him
As ray of light when they were lost
For he was their only lighthouse.
His words enlightened their hearts,
His actions charted pristine paths,
Defying fiercely allure of wrongs
Sacred was the sermon he doled out,
Illustrious was he~ held in regard.
Though he’s gone, he left his mark,
Some have heard his clarion call,
Inspired to follow in his footsteps,
Planting the seeds of his message,
Carrying his torch~ seeds to harvest.
Esteemed is their beneficent voice
Tolling of selflessness and sacrifice,
Dedicating to others purpose of life
Alleviating sufferings of human plight;
Keeping the flame of goodwill alive
Trekking through rains and clouds
Leading the way, guiding how to find
The rainbow on other side of sky.
March 17, 2022
Placed 1st: A Brian Strand 1092
Placed 2nd: Being A Light To Others Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Life, a fleeting dream, warbling on meadows:
A season of spring and season of snows;
Sometimes in sunshine, sometimes in shadows,
Joy of autumns and woes of wintry throes.
And it journeys on, vying gleam of dawn
Only to confront grief of fate forlorn:
Of conquests lost, trepidations bygone,
Of nightmares roiling reveries of morn;
Lamenting goodwill that yesterdays tossed
And despairs of hardships hurdles doled out
Until bridge of life triumphant steps crossed,
Where blossoms of success its prairies sprout.
Where fruits of life on trees of acclaim grow
Claiming winsome now, defeating sorrow,
Lauding bliss sublime, free of grieving throe,
Cherishing today and dreams of morrow.
July 16, 2022
Placed 1st: It’s All About Three Q’s Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Rhymes: abab, cdcd, efef, ghgh
(Rhymezone)
Syllables: 10 per line (HMS.com)
Recall the straight and well-planned path of youth
mapped out so clear to lead us through life’s maze?
Though times I wandered off in prankish craze,
the road was there to find again in truth
when pangs of guilt nagged like an aching tooth.
I'd walk it once again, my heart ablaze,
spurred on by welcomed glory, love, and praise
doled out by elders from their judging booth.
How soon the road meandered here and there,
its outline—fuzzy, overgrown with weeds;
and when I think I've walked it at my best
those detour signs appear to bring despair.
Mature, I now must choose to suit my needs;
my only judge- a conscience well at rest.
April 25, 2015
Premiere Contest: Once More I Failed The Truth
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Form: Petrarchan Sonnet: a-b-b-a-a-b-b-a c-d-e-c d-e
It was the year of Nineteen Forty One
when I was a young, new bride,
there was a sneak attack upon our ships
and so many good men died.
Our president announced we were at war
and we knew lives would be changed.
How dare they attack the USA?
Are their leaders all deranged?
Eager to defend our loved homeland,
we volunteered our everything.
What we gave was all but necessities,
to no luxuries did we cling.
Every able man was declared ready
to go fight the enemy.
The women filled essential jobs
to protect our loved country.
We gave up our loved silk stockings
and went bare-legged without shame.
We inked seams up the back of legs
and just hoped pen had good aim.
Most items were carefully rationed,
sugar, coffee, meat and much more.
Groceries were doled out to us,
it mattered not were we rich or poor.
Gasoline enough get to work,
there was none for casual driving.
No new cars or toasters or non-war items
were in stores or show rooms arriving
We learned how to make old things last,
turned our yards into Victory Gardens
and raised our own food for those long years.
Laggards earned no grace or pardons.
Those who gave the most were soldiers,
who were happy to answer the call
and the families they left behind
were the ones who gave their all.
But we all gave for our country.
We united to win the war.
We each gave what we had to give
and would gladly have given more.
7/1/14
----------------------
I wanted a buff body, to look good in my "snuggs".
But ignored advice doled out by fitness droids.
Like: never use performance enhancing drugs
or be tempted to use Anabolic Steroids.
After 6 months, I just look like a thug wearing a rug…
…with a Nasty Squint and Diabolic Hemorrhoids
[this poem was first published on my blog - http://wp.me/p2mUkP-eH
with one of my sketch doodles & makes more sense in context of the whole post]
Yesterday colonial century ago
China Brazil India fed not masses
Today whose rate of growth cannot stop but grow
Rich and mighty nations always wanted more
Invested in ammunition to cut losses
Yesterday colonial century ago
Yesterday poor nations gasped for breath to sow
Who doled out guns made from lethal gases
Today whose rate of growth cannot stop but grow
Yesterday nomads roamed deserts without dough
Till from under their soles spurt oil and gases
Yesterday colonial century ago
Tomorrow rich nations will trillions borrow
Mass unrest will choke more than greenhouse gases
Today whose rate of growth cannot stop but grow
Day after tomorrow will expose vain Ego
Will national leaders all betray masses
Yesterday colonial century ago
Today whose rate of growth cannot stop but grow
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Avast emotional gulf manifested; courtesy
series of unfortunate events; sundered
biologically accorded, cherished, enshrined
paternal bond; resultant dereliction defies,
justifies, ratifies...dissonance; unbearable
hindsight excoriates impropriety reviewing
dirty deeds done dirt cheap; impossible mission
to excise indelibly etched psychological
impacted repercussions upon mine fountainhead;
weighing excruciating deserved self loathing;
permanently deplorable depravity yoked;
unyielding choke hold, no longer asking
forgiveness, but airing errant culpability;
dada's guilt indefensible impropriety; begetting
permanent fallout; exacting just desserts; bitter
regret beast of burden (oxe see moron) housed
within self made villain; unjust to impinge your
providential opportunities, whose blessed smarts
plus unfettered, unencumbered, undaunted...
daring do promise productive existence par
excellence, versus anxiety riddled torturous
legacy writ large across countenance this papa;
analogously das scribe bing mortal epitaph, while
dark shadows haunt this edgy rusty knight, who
once pawn time shrugged off mischievous
lascivious actions as payback; recognizably erred;
misperceptions (mine); deduced ex post facto,
when the missus doled out unpleasantries;
exploding anger; vented regarding significant
roiling perturbations harkening to her own
unrepentant poisonous stinging toxicity;
delivered courtesy birth parents; hands lack
king awareness to rock cradle with tender
loving care, hence burdened with childhood
tsoris prior to accepting yours truly as life
contra dance partner these preceding xxii+
years avoiding unseemly behavior; aware
that the mother of our two darling daughters
doth love and forgive me, though recouping
similar results with first offspring may remain
tense, and many years past not a happy camper.
When I ruminate in trepidations forlorn,
Darkness traversed in search of dawn,
Vying fertile shores, oceans I crossed,
Nightmares that my dreams doled out;
Looking back now, how I fondly recall--
In those hardships success was born.
As I watch frigid woes glinting on snow,
Winters that melt and in rivers flow,
Parched-leaves tinting autumn’s glow,
I wonder how seasons in throes know;
Behind clouds of despair rises arc of hope.
When I spend today in tempests bygone
Brooding in defeat of conquests lost,
Yesterdays that were callously tossed;
I once again follow footsteps of the past
Imprisoning my triumphs of tomorrow
Arresting winsome ambitions of now.
Learning the lessons from where I was
I reassure anxieties perturbing my life:
Travails of turbulence won’t last long,
For a darkest night too brightens in dawn,
A rainbow forms after a storm is gone.
So, I clasp the hand of a leisurely walk
Unfettered by constant tick of time clock,
Passionately answering call of my heart
Bequeathing moments that forever last.
August 8, 2022
Placed 1st: Free Verse -Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Resolutions
New Year’s resolutions
are meant to be broken
as soon as we realize
that deprivation and muscle strain
are not our natural state,
and that a comforted body
yields placidity of mind.
The Relationship
I can only think of you
with exasperation
at the challenging mix
of slick and stinging ways
that make you
my cactus.
The Passing of the Day
In the moment that sunlight shrivels
the day rebukes me
for wallowing in the known
and hiding in the comfortable,
for spurning those inappropriate,
and dodging alien ideas.
But the night reassures me,
with a recorded manifesto
that I already know by heart.
I can shutter my soul,
and face tomorrow’s day
knowing it will be unchanged.
Falling Away
Love is stepped cliffs
Of willingness to suffer.
Sheer drops from obsession to indifference.
The tiny mesa top holds less than a score
For whom I would give up my self.
Then a free fall to friends and relatives
Who are given affection and time
And a precipice further down
Acquaintances are doled out words.
And at chasm bottom are strangers
Who receive pro forma prayers and grudged money.
It’s impossible to love all of humanity
When I merely like myself.
All was certain, the tracks determined
each and every day
Cold steel certainty dictated
all thoughts and machinations
complacent
Will the unfeeling rails define us?
Will the force-fed rout devide us?
I stand, a locomotive, raging off the track
teetering engine building steam
throwing all your notions back
to the overbearing brother providing
lies steeped in half truths
deceptive
Shall we dance amongst the littered wreck
of boxcars toppled over?
This free thinking deemed chaotic by compliant passengers
begging for margins to live in.
~our brakes never screeched
as the truth we beseeched is doled out so reluctant
I stand, an illuminating conductor, ready to delve
outside the railroad ties
seeking new horizons for crashsites
*Inspired by S K A T's "Runaway Train" contest**
(My uncle who has been my father’s younger brother was almost like a father to me. He began his life as a commissioned officer in the Indian Air Force. He married my mother’s sister and is connected to me from both sides)
"I carry your heart with me(I carry it in my heart)I am never without it" Quote _ by E.E. Cummings
Gone you are, but shall not be forgotten
Love you and cherish the values you sowed
Through life’s strenuous paths you have trodden
With truth and uprightness you were endowed
You sired four children, a beautiful brood
From a heart of gold doled out love and care
You showed the path and your trail they pursued
Climbing ladders of success, they did fare
Heaped not any wealth, but worked without rest
Taught your children to accept life with grace
Gave up your pleasures to give them your best
You braved your days through life's perplexing maze
Uncle, to King eternal, you have fled
In our hearts, your loving memories flood
Sept.14.2022
Lost to Heaven- My Uncle
Writing Challenges- In My Heart- S forms
Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France