Best Donated Poems


Premium Member Imagine

Imagine all the people
who trade in human life,
imagine all the reasons
given to this particular vice.
I visualize the rivers
that run with coagulated blood,
I visualize the tyrant
that stir the waters good!

Imagine all the evil
where nightmares are conceived,
imagine all the weepers
locked in harmony.
I visualize a great peace
when man is down and out,
I visualize a yearning
to stir up warring lout!

Imagine all the carrion
fleeing this earthly scroll,
imagine all the zombies
them humans without soul.
I visualize the populous
with only one track mind,
I visualize the despotic master
not too far behind!

Imagine all the wrongdoers
that wait for the morrow,
imagine all the innocent
with aggravated sorrow.
I visualize his disciples
locked in earthly battle,
I visualize all intellect
smitten with ancient prattle!

Imagine all the dreamers
that dream in psycho colours,
imagine all the dead ones
John Lennon and others.
I visualize the sky
that reflect the sombre waters,
I visualize the time
they’ll be no virgin daughters!

Imagine all the children
born with colour blindness,
imagine all the peace
driven by human kindness.
I visualize a new order
maybe for the best?
I visualize the establishment
being put to the test!

Imagine all the people
with lives of eternal bliss,
imagine all the barriers
created when living with this.
I visualize heaven here
in this heathen place,
I visualize the angel
in pure virgin white lace!

Imagine all the new born
scanner pattern at birth,
imagine all of today’s crime
eliminated through death.
I visualize a dossier
of PLC news speak,
I visualize authoritarianism
of every aspect!

Imagine all the cloning
created for human part,
imagine all the respect
donated to this particular art.
I visualize the unscrupulous
desperate for existence,
I visualize the farm of haste
the plough of insistence!

Imagine, Mother Shipton 
prophecies all came true,
imagine only one statement fails
the end of the world.
I visualize even then 
common sense will prevail.
I visualize only Jesus Christ
will forecast the ultimate end!

 © Harry J Horsman 1993

Premium Member The Breeze and I Plus a Thank You

This poem is dedicated to that kind person who donated me with a Premium Membership.  I did not expect it but my grateful thanks comes with a wish of a happy and healthy New Year.



The breeze whispers in my ears:
”Come and join me in a spree
Let's move out towards the sea
Over choppy waves on currents adrift,
See your boat is in full speed,
My strong breeze has filled your sails
And speedily all is glee.
The hot air on the beach is far behind,
For now it's all fresh and clean.
Dolphins jump out of the waves, 
Spraying droplets all around,
Till down again they go towards the deep.
Is it not a wonderful sight to see?”

Premium Member Married To Poetry

A galaxy of thoughts... 
Influential notaries donated 
Given to me; freely... 
I am most grateful 
Educating me, the reader...
I am a learned man 
Taking in all that is offered... 
I relish the amenities, assortments...gifts 
Pleasurable reads comfort my soul  
Whilst in solitude...
On quiet lonely nights...
My mind metamorphizes 
From a world of hell...
Into a world of peacefulness 
Intrigued be'ith my soul... 
as the ink spills 
Whetten my palms...
stain them eternal, seduce me...
Undress me with your pen 
For I... 
For I am an easy get 
Poetry and me...…………….I do


Poetry and Me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One 
2-123-2019


Premium Member Dad's Typewriter

After my father died, I moved to his old house
Donated many large items to charities
As each item was removed, tears streamed down my blouse
But some were not wanted; what would become of these?
 
Set up a table in the yard; sign said, “Free Stuff”
The old Underwood typewriter wasn’t set out
Parting with memories it evoked was just too rough
It symbolized Dad’s life, without any doubt
 
The late night hours a CPA spent at his desk
With my cat curled up next to him, evoking grins
As Dad typed away, little Prince looked statuesque
I learned to type on what is now a “has been”
 
This manual contraption replaced by high tech
Represented a man who worked to provide
Freely offering love, but stretching each pay check
To give us a better life, Dad’s efforts applied
 
The hours work took away from his family
I used to resent, but I understand more now
A sacrifice he made for my siblings and me
The thought of parting with it I couldn’t allow
 
The typewriter remains on Dad’s desk in the den
As a reminder of how hard he worked to please
Sometimes I still peck at the letters now and then
When I’m missing Dad most, somehow it brings me peace

Premium Member Famous People

FAMOUS PEOPLE

she sings beautifully
is beautiful to look at
what’s she really like?
shhhhhhh!
you don’t want to know

the messiah
clear through
no intermission
coughs      yawns
programs rattle

mister music
dead at 45
they say it was an od
a brown stain
on the record jacket

great musician
my violin teacher
i think he admired me
in spite of
the alarm clock on his piano

my famous teacher
i think he’s special      different
my lesson is at ten
his studio door opens
at exactly ten

would you look
his home like the taj mahal
he donated a million
what’d he do
sell one of his persian rugs?

her home is incredible
she allows a look-through
at cristmas
joseph and mary
would sleep in the stable

inside his fish bowl
those dancing eyes
the swish
the dart
another drag of pot

Dave Austin

The Brother In- Law Part Ii

The Brother In- Law Part II

christine asked Christian - what are we going to do now?
Christian answered - I will take care of you. I will leave you 
in a safe place, while I go look for fortune. They left in the 
wagon they had and went back to town. Christian found
a Convent and he talked to the Mother Superior.

He told her what had happened  and asked if he could leave 
his sister there, while he went to look for a new life for him and
her. The Mother Superior said yes - that they would take care 
of her.

Christian left and went far away. He was twenty years old.
he was young and very handsome. he soon found a job and
worked very hard. After ten years, he became very rich. He had 
a car, a home, nice clothes and money. He said to himself - now
I'll go and get my sister.

He started his journey back. When he got to the Convent, the
Mother Superior did not recongized him. He told her who he was
and why he was there. She told him - I'm sorry - she can not go 
with you. He asked why? She said - because she got married 
last week. 

He wanted to know - who the hack, she got married to. The Mother
Superior said - she got married to JESUS. She took the vows last
week. He turned around and looked at JESUS and said - I couldn't
have picked a better Brother In - Law myself.

He went back to the place where his parents had lived and everything
was reconstructed, only better and with a bigger house. He soon found 
a girl and and got married too. He went back to the convent and donated 
a lot of money to help them out. Everyone was happy. His sister and him
would always stay very close. The end....

04/24/2013  Written by
Lucilla M. Carrillo

A story/poem that I hope
you enjoyed.


Premium Member A Funny Thing Happened On the Way To the John LOL

A funny thing happened on the way to the john,
I rounded a bend and there sat my young son
Who whined and fussed to be picked up and nursed
So I had to oblige though I quietly cursed.

I continued my quest for some bladder relief
Whilst feeding my baby, supreme mother and chief
When I passed the front door, boob out, zipper down
And there stood our pastor, with an uncomfortable frown.

I tucked and I zipped, then red-faced I said, “Hi.”
He said, “I just stopped for your donated pie.”
Baby under one arm, I retrieved the said pie
And proudly returned with baked good held up high.

But the baby was squirmy and sun in my eyes
So I tripped on the dog, who is almost my size
And that’s when I found out that cherry pie flies
Right into the face of the good Reverend Wise.

Which was not a bad thing, and I do not jest
Because my little boy had pulled out my breast!
And my bladder gave up, the poor little fellow,
As I landed and sat in a puddle of yellow!

So I never did make it to the bathroom that trip
And I had to make up to our poor puppy Skip.
My son, just like always, got his milk and his way
And my husband and I became Jewish that day!

Premium Member Fireman Competition Dragon

Dragon went to the mailbox this morn, 
And he came excitedly flying back, yes, toward the house… 
So Now, you should… be doubly, doubly, doubly forewarned.
Yep! Now, you GOTTA know… We’re in for a LOT of ensuing chaos!

Yes, He had a letter addressed to him… 
With a smile on his face and a letter in his hand…
And what, you ask, had him wearing, such bubbly, bubbly, bubbly grin?
 He’s going, this year, to the Fireman Competition, and held the invite so grand!

By Now, you must know, such excitement, so fine… 
As usual, made his fire to run, run, run… onto the letter in hand…
And that Date, and the Time? You know, that fire? Well… never mind!
Thought this would slow Dragon? No way! He’s ready, now, for that Laurel Strand.

He flew to the Firehouse, lickety- split…
Crashing into the fire truck, giving it a broken axel and 4 tires flat, flat, flat!
Leaving his head, stuck, solidly, through the window, into the trucks cockpit…
Fortunately, out ran the fire chief, to organize the rescue, of our little dingbat…

When NOTHING ELSE would work, all the firemen…
Put their feet on the door, grabbing Dragon, and they pulled, pulled, pulled!
Finally, it took old Grandpa Troll to pull his head out, by taking the door off…
And then breaking the door apart! My! What a day, I must say, THIS had been!

Then next week’s competition was explained…
As a Charity Event to enhance and outfit their old faithful fire truck!
Now a little rescue practice will never, never, ever… it’s ascertained…
Ever be turned down! And Oh My! And Oh Well! What’s that truck worth? 

That is… compared to our klutzy, little clown…
Grandpa Troll donated repairs as Dragon worked it off, day after day, after day.
My Moral is: If great you will be, then mistakes will be made along the way…
As you walk to your destiny, don’t despair; just keep going to your brighter days…

Written By Carol Eastman 5-19-2016

Madelyn Blonskey

I was Second Lieutenant of the Army Nurse Corps, 
At Pearl Harbour when it was attacked and bombed;
I was in my room at the nurses’ quarters, a store, 
Near Tripler Army Hospital, six miles from le monde. 

At about 8:20am the on-call nurse called me,
Said Pearl Harbor was being attacked, grave concern, 
She looked out and said something was strange, really, 
“There is an awful smell…a lot of noise,” we did discern.  

So I decided to walk to the hospital, ten minutes flat, 
Bt as I stepped out the quarters, had an awful feeling, 
No gardenias or hibiscus to sent my nose in a bat, 
Just the odour of sulphur and burning oil, and buzzing. 

Upon reaching the hospital, I saw twenty stretchers, 
All with injured men, lined up, each with bloody wounds, 
Some with an M on their foreheads for morphine, etchers:
I was an anaesthetist, and was commended at the sounds.  

The chief of surgery turned to me and he did say,
“Madelyn, if we are hit, I want to say to you that, 
It is a pleasure to have worked with you,” hey, hey, 
“You are a good anaesthetist”, and I accepted that. 

But I just replied, “I know God knows we did nothing, 
To deserve this, I am putting my trust in him”; 
And caring for the wounded took days, also the dying, 
And our emergency rooms were schools and a kitchen. 

We were very short of bandages, medicines for repair, 
Totally unprepared for the hundreds of casualties, 
But we did the best we could do with our work and fare, 
And blood was donated day and night, no apologies.

Premium Member Writing With Weeping Words

Memories of guilt fall and spiral down
To fill love's empty soul with its debris
Tormented from sadness I know profound
I've built a funeral pyre my mind will see
Yesterday's desires I've folded in time
To cast on the flames where memories die
Lovers names burn in colored smoke and climb
Dispersing above in an endless sky
These burnt alms donated from my fool's gold 
Are now gray cold ash born from flames that weep
Collected from tears and love that turned cold
From time's burning fires of flames, I reap

    I've wept from my yesterdays that grew cold
    Now lost in ashes as I have grown old


10/5/17 contest End of Form series
sponsor Broken Wings

Premium Member Greatest News Ever

Just landed in my ears
just dazzled my mind 
my local political head 
I was talking to him today
Lord you send such a beautiful messages to me
the past couple of days 
I suggested a gift from God
that his great light shone over me
In reverence to Our Most Holy Spirit
telling him my great news 
Now he has said 
that he will do everything in his power
To get me published wow stunned 
I was hearing hearing his pride in me
Its like coming out of a cave 
alone as a hermit in the mountains
Now I have found peace
In love everything shines so bright
Thank you Lord and master 
for showing me and helping me see 
to draw in your light
I even mentioned getting my lonely prayer
for Christmas donated to the church of granite 
In the shape of a crucifix 
whom my grandfather help build
A cross pointing to Heaven
Golden guilded to the house off God

I'M America's Worst Driver

Where I live, a bunch of idiots work at the DMV.
They proved that by giving a drivers license to me.
When I drive, I constantly drive in the wrong lane.
Some people call me stupid, others call me insane.
If you're on the same road while I'm driving,
you won't have much of a chance of surviving.
I've wrecked so many cars that my insurance company no longer pays.
If you ever see me driving in your neighborhood, you really should pray.
If you're out walking while I'm driving, you sure will need to get out of my way.
Because if you don't, your next of kin will be informed that you've passed away.
I drive extremely bad during the night and even worse in the rain.
When I die, my body will be donated to science but they won't accept my brain.
When people see me coming, they lose bladder control and pee.
The gospel truth is that even drunk drivers drive better than me.

Premium Member We All Matter

This Sabbath, we read about the Tabernacle
    and the avoidance of a great debacle 
  Seems the Israelites donated so much stuff
    Moses told them, 'That's enough!'

  In fact, much gold and silver were left over
    fine silk, and animal skins, moreover
  Yet each donation was still put to good use
    and the craftsmen a fine Tabernacle produced

  With this ends the Book of Exodus
    to teach this lesson to each of us
  God values every contribution, large or small
    ~ Take away just one, there'd be no Tabernacle at all

Premium Member To Sir With Death

Undoubtedly, my appearance comes as no surprise 
I know, beyond question, beyond a shadow of a doubt 
I am a vagabond, a place to place traveler, a wanderer 
I had a job- I quit 
I had a home- sold it 
I had money- donated it...to the mortgage company 
My wife- gone 
My children-gone 
Even my dogs- gone 
My heart, soul, thrive and want- gone 
Want, what I want is the only thing I wanted for the past five years 
Not a job 
Not a home 
Not even money 
What I want, is my dream 
A bottle of cheap whiskey 
A cigar, any flavor will work 
And a warm cozy patch of grass 
So that I can watch one last sunset
Then, close my eyes forever 
To sir with death   


Vagabond Dreams Poetry Contest 
Sponsor: Craig Cornish 
8/28/2021

Premium Member The Grief I Feel is of Another Kind

The grief I feel is of another kind
Sweeter than holy water
A deeper breath than moorland air to find
The black of midnight, not—
Of monstrous seas, but—
Of restful night, donated cloak 
From a kindly gentleman to wear 
Wrapped in coolest starlight, safe
Astride a destrier — galloping to water 
Molted feather — fortuitously found 
New flight, gentle wind in gossamer sail.
Creeping tendrils — nettles wind around 
Sentries of roses — silken petal rounds
Shower the lily casket — topped by pearly crown.

I know my grief is not the universal kind 
But something softer than the norm 
Welcome as a friend, I usher in my grief 
And death, his brother, dressed in angel white 
Scythe to call its sleepers — lowered in greeting bow.
Farewell, Annie
Newcomer to the under-realm.
With no card of sympathy 
Or hearse to see you off 
In lonely grief you leave your final hurt. 
But, relief of death follows me, ebony puppy
Nipping at my heels, my little black dog
Helps my heart to heal.

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