Best Earns Poems
He swings his arms and strides ahead
She walks three steps behind
The center of the universe
Cares not what’s on her mind
The bacon? Oh, he brings it home
Though she works longer hours
He smiles and sees his savings grow
But what she earns is “ours”
One day he’ll leave; she’s sure of that
Because he tells her so
She, too, oft’ thinks of leaving home
But has no cash to go
A prisoner within his world
The dreams she once had died
The man she loved will never know
How many times she’s cried
August 26, 2019
For Silent One's "If You Only Knew" Contest
Categories:
earns, abuse, fear, marriage,
Form:
Rhyme
Polly Wally waddles all day
She's running for office in LA
She wastes time doodling
Enjoys a daily noodling
But she never earns her pay
Polly Wally was once quite a looker
before politics she worked as a hooker
now she dresses with power
doesn't get paid by the hour
now she's aging no man would book her
Categories:
earns, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Since the elders often proclaim, my how time flies,
You then naturally look up into the skies.
To study the heavens for at least one small sign,
From the horizon up to the tallest tree line.
Then suddenly, a flock of birds flitters about,
So you believe that you might have time figured out.
But when the old people mentioned, my how time flies,
They didn’t bring up birds; so is time in disguise?
As a carnival balloon, yes that’s it, you say,
Like the vanishing kind on a bright summer day.
But losing your own, is one of life’s biggest fears,
Since you don’t want to waste any time crying tears.
It’s possible that time is commuting by plane,
Which is surely the fastest speed time could attain.
But what good can that be when the planes out of sight,
Unless it quickly returns from its roundtrip flight?
Then is waiting around to see time such a waste,
When each day there are many affairs to be faced?
Then out of the blue a helicopter is seen,
And you reflect, maybe time is on that machine.
But as soon as a copter is here it’s gone by,
After noisily chopping the beautiful sky.
Although it’s very unlikely time takes that ride,
Unless it cannot hear, or ear plugs are supplied.
Wait a minute, I got it, time surfs over clouds;
If I could do the same all my friends would be proud.
And occasionally time would appear as rain,
But then an excess amount would go down the drain.
Then could time be a portion of air all the time,
To be breathed in, or to give life to a wind chime?
Though, is that really flying like old people claim?
It seems all my guesses are exactly the same.
Well, after a long life of thinking and trying,
To figure out the ways that time could be flying,
In heaven, by feather, or motor, as vapor,
Yet, not one of those ways can be proved on paper.
Until recently, when I looked in the past,
The answers were there for those time questions asked.
That time really flies, though it takes time to see,
That a lifetime of living, is the real key.
And now I tell the young, that time truly flies,
But don’t bother looking up into the skies.
Time earns its wings every day, inside the mind,
And can only be seen, when looking behind!
David Fisher for Impress Me-Iambic Meter Contest
Philosophical motif
Categories:
earns, flying, philosophy, time,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Deemed significant culturally,
a fantastic and old comedy
is this film I love,
which is the tale of
a weatherman played by Bill Murray.
This weatherman Phil has been sent
to cover the groundhog event.
He’s so hard to please,
and that’s because he’s
an arrogant cynical gent.
There’s a blizzard and Phil’s forced to stay
in Punxsutawney for one more day.
He awakes. Something’s wrong!
“I Got You Babe,” the song
by his bedside is what he hears play.
It’s the same song from the day before
when he woke up at six. Out the door,
he goes onto the street.
Things repeat and repeat.
This is something that he can’t ignore.
In a time loop he’s stuck! Each time when
he is hearing “I Got You Babe,” then
that man, once so vain,
begins going insane.
Groundhog Day comes again and again!
When he understands that there won’t be
any punishment whenever he
does anything wrong,
it isn’t for long
before Phil behaves most crazily.
He drives reckless and binges on beer.
Since tomorrow will never grow near,
he drives right off a cliff!
He would not do that if
there were hope, so he’s lost all his fear.
There’s a woman that Phil’s come to know,
and he talks to her every day, so
he can learn more and more
how to make her adore
him! His feelings for her start to grow.
With his efforts to win Rita’s heart,
Phil begins to appreciate art.
He learns French and to play
the piano! Each day
in the townspeople’s lives he takes part.
Seven years come and go. By year eight,
Phil has changed. But will this change his fate?
Knowing everyone’s needs,
he is doing good deeds,
and in Rita’s eyes, Phil’s looking great!
It’s his last Groundhog Day when Phil learns
his life’s lesson. This time his world turns!
Through the great power of
unconditional love
and his good works, a NEW day Phil earns!
“I Got You , Babe” plays next to his head.
But it’s NOT Groundhog’s Day, for instead,
Phil wakens to see
unbelievably
true love won! Rita’s with him in bed!
March 27, 2018 for the FAVORITE COMEDY MOVIE Contest of Alexis Y
Categories:
earns, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Where were you so long ago?
All those eons before a tot.
In some distant god’s château?
No. Not there. You were not.
On a shelf of surplus stock,
A soul dressed up in heavens frock.
Perhaps a spirit not yet wrought,
No. Not there. You were not.
Then began your book of life,
It’s made in volumes three.
The past, the present,
And the yet to be.
Will you write only pleasant,
As you pen volume present?
Avoiding matters to disavow,
Parting life’s waves by your prow.
Crashing the crest before the break,
Leaving burst bubbles in your wake.
What great act earns its worth,
And a lasting mark upon the earth?
Is that mark worth the grind,
Should your labor be realigned?
The train of life rolls on rails of time,
And travel stops at the end of the line.
When that ending word is writ,
The final one that you submit.
When there is no more yet-to-be,
You close the cover on volume three.
The tome is closed. Where do you go?
To the place you were taught?
To some distant god’s château?
No. Not there. You are not.
Your Book of Life, a mere spark,
Bounded by bookends of eternal dark.Where were you so long ago?
All those eons before a tot.
In some distant god’s château?
No. Not there. You were not.
On a shelf of surplus stock,
A soul dressed up in heavenly frock.
Perhaps a spirit not yet wrought,
No. Not there. You were not.
Then began your book of life,
It’s made in volumes three.
The past, the present,
And the yet to be.
Will you write only pleasant,
As you pen volume present?
Avoiding matters to disavow,
Parting life’s waves by your prow.
Crashing the crest before the break,
Leaving burst bubbles in your wake.
What great act earns its worth,
And a lasting mark upon the earth?
Is that mark worth the grind,
Should your labor be realigned?
The train of life rolls on rails of time,
And travel stops at the end of the line.
When that ending word is writ,
The final one that you submit.
When there is no more yet-to-be,
You close the cover on volume three.
The tome is closed. Where do you go?
To the place you were taught?
To some distant god’s château?
No. Not there. You are not.
Your Book of Life, a mere spark,
Bounded by bookends of eternal dark.
Categories:
earns, atheist, death, friendship, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Terrifying tumultuous tremendous traumatic transaction
Horror in the towering splashes of ocean in howl
The vigilant lighthouse pounded by the surfs of annihilation
The huge and awful sea right now is on the untamed prowl
The shivering cold wind around the angry eyes of the hurricane
Has ruthlessly dispersed the deep waters in the ocean
Even dignity of the lighthouse is hit by the water insane
Before the surging rage of the waters in commotion
Do you listen to the roaring sea and crushing waves pounding the shores
Nothing else is visible nothing else is audible
Still don’t lose heart and look at the glistening hopes of the trusted doors
There the lofty lighthouse looks almost imperishable
This way nature heaves suddenly a deep sigh of suppressed grief
In these mad and angry growl of wild wind acts out nature
By ventilating its pent up anger it earns catharsis
From dark to light is the nature’s optimistic feature
_____________________________________________________________________
April 10, 2016
For the Poetry Contest : Sentinel Quatrain Form
Hosted by : Eve Roper
Categories:
earns, adventure, anger, beautiful, conflict,
Form:
Quatrain
Another Gold
Far from profit’s crass allure,
At a place somewhat obscure,
A poet sweeps his shepherd’s lyre;
He sings of gold, of heaven’s fire.
No. not of gold that Midas stores
Behind fast-bolted treasury doors
But of gold, that, eve and dawn,
Touches sheaves of ripened corn.
More emeralds than all wealth can gain
Has to these eyes the verdant plain.
Without the mind all precious stones
Have lesser worth than dead men’s bones.
The original prompt for the last poem was one I wrote on being requested to resign from a computer company.
Far from profit’s crass allure
At a place somewhat obscure,
Gordon preaches now Cobol.
Fortran and, I believe, Algol,
Unto flocks of Gaelic birds,
Black-faced sheep and long-haired herds.
In Acton’s fleshpots, in his den,
The spotlight first is beamed on Ken.
Beware the luscious woman’s wiles
Or you’ll forget your disks and files.
It would clearly be a sin
To make no mention of dear Lin.
May married bliss attend thy way
And commensurate be thy pay.
Sandra’s performance sets the pace
Robin’s too a similar case.
His hunting prowess earns him fame
In matters that concern big game.
Flower power propels this happy throng
Which means that little can go wrong
As long as Rose your leader be.
May rays of fortune shine on thee
On yon high Olympic mountain
Where Gord and Mary have been scouting.
There beneath the royal wall
Our Ted flogs bangles on his stall.
My ditty now has reached its span
Remember me, the also-ran.
Categories:
earns, satire,
Form:
Couplet
Every once in a while I lose myself
But I’m glad the dreams are coming back
I feel the thrill filling me
I feel my heartbeat rising
I see redemption rising in the days ahead
I still realise once again that I’ve earned another chance to begin anew
Still glad that it’s early in life
...and I can apply the lessons I’ve learnt before I’m twenty five
Phew! Boy, my heart’s beating fast
I shall no longer look at my past
For the past is just that
...opportunities gone with the wind, never to come back
I look towards the days ahead
I spend today to dream of the future I intend
For I know now tomorrow is bound to come
Today was but a dream ten years back
Had I realised then how soon today would come
I’d already be rich riding on the wings of independence
I pledge never to make that mistake again
Today I shall live like I plan
...and not like my neighbour Mr. Wright
For I know not how much he earns to spend the way he does
Today I shall not live like the society around me
For I don’t know whether they think ahead
...of the days that are bound to be raining with storms of emergency
I pledge to live as befits me
I plan to live today in a way that enables me to save
For now I know I was right ten years ago
But I hadn’t the courage to follow a route of my own
Now I’m determined ten years to come...
I’ll be riding on the unicorn of delight
I pay no care for what those here and there may air
I wanna be happy today in my moderate ways
Knowing all too well I’m headed where
There, in the future where my heavy dreams will float in the air
I’m no hater so for the rest of the players here
I wish all the goodwill and good wishes my subconscious can air
Categories:
earns, dedication, devotion, faith, hope,
Form:
Narrative
Do not seek or chose to find,
correction in another’s mind;
When at the heart of all, we know;
enlightenment comes from what we sow.
To criticize or correct ourselves is for the best
since others seldom can surmise the simplest jest.
In deference to said life so roughly hewn
‘tis the clown that earns heavenly boon.
For the gift of lucidity is rare without calamity
and few honorifics abound for those who claim sanity.
Categories:
earns, education, introspection, philosophy
Form:
Didactic
Who cares about the heights of mountains?
Who dares to scale their lofty fountains?
For it's not their altitude that truly matters,
But the awe and wonder their presence scatters.
Who cares about the hue of rocks,
Without the sun's light that unlocks?
For it's the vibrant glow they reflect,
That reveals their beauty, we can't neglect.
Who notices the mountain's modesty,
Standing tall, yet silent, for all to see?
For it's the quiet strength it possesses,
That earns respect and admiration, no lesses.
Who observes the mountain, untouched,
Unfazed by winter's snow or summer's clutch?
For it stands firm in its endurance,
A symbol of resilience, a powerful assurance.
Who notices the wisdom it gains,
As it reaches the heights, no restraints?
For it holds the secrets of countless years,
A source of knowledge, erasing all fears.
Who names its generosity, so grand,
As it shelters creatures across the land?
For it provides a home, a loving embrace,
A selfless act, a testament to grace.
Who notices its love, pure and true,
As it bonds with the earth, its value imbue?
For it radiates warmth when needed,
Like love's embrace, forever unimpeded.
Who knows where the mountains came,
Seeing them there, in their eternal frame?
Who wonders their age, their ancient birth?
They've stood timeless, a marvel on earth.
Who doesn't seek the mountains' serene,
For their stillness, their peaceful scene?
For they understand our mind's needs,
Nourishing our hearts, fulfilling our creeds.
Categories:
earns, mountains,
Form:
Rhyme
We are not the same… no shame
I love her golden grains and game;
Her name and game flows like fame
And her pens and poems you cannot tame
We are from different races… reality
Yet I crave her colors and creativity
Every time I soar to her sights and sound city
My pen do praise her art and alacrity
We’ve all got pleasant, passionate pages
Yet her scripts are signed by sincere sages
Her poetry pictures are immortal images
That earns her wisdom and wonderful wages
…and Crystal is her noble name,
her aim and game burns with fire , not flame.
in my heart I see her poetry picture frame;
she’s got a friendly face…she’s a darling dame
Categories:
earns, dedicationpoetry,
Form:
Verse
Suspended with roses, a garter and courage.
Her wispy white costume blows in the breeze.
Silky vibrations as she sways her bodice —
the Rapunzel-princess of the swinging trapeze.
Brunette hair and outfit bound with pearls and lace.
High with Magellanic clouds, marvelous outlander of earth.
Slender fingers wrapped around the seraphic twine.
Daughter of the heavens, from the day a trouper gave birth.
One...two...three, the excitement sounds, the air surfeits
about like maddening faerie dust. The open sky burns
with eccentric flame - crowd applauding like cherry bombs.
The darling of the sky, entices every cent she earns.
This rapturous virgin makes love to the dawn.
Her stupendous feat goes on and on, drawing
in oohs and ahhs...the climax as her knees
hang vaingloriously from the seat, outlawing
the silver and gold wings that flutter about
outside the circus tent, as this beauty shines
upside-down like an albinotic bat, frenetically
stirring the breeze… waving from the vines.
7/29/2019
Categories:
earns, beauty, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
life is full of treasures
sitting looking out at the courtyard
she is not comely
but has the most precious smile
it radiates in the brightest sunny day
her little wave of the hand
acknowledging my existence
as she passes on the walk
in tandem is her cat
i love watching them react to each other
he unfolds upon the lawn
rubbing his stomach
it is easy to see the joy they share
the old couple emerges across the way
he will secure the door upon leaving
hurries to the parking lot
where he attends her door
securing the belt
soon they leave and will return later
age has left her a bit slower
he manages the door and releases the harness
while she is on the way
he pulls the folding shopping cart
from the trunk
empties the bagged groceries into the cart
makes his way to the door
where she is waiting to enter
next door is the woman who is here
to complete her education
it has taken a few years for the R.N. degree
began years ago as a hospital volunteer
from there to nurse's aid to L.P.N.
she earns her living caring for the elderly
at some senior center, pays the bills
there is more but we never go there
in our short sharing conversations
a broken heart and children states away
she is dedicated to her dream
two letters following her name
to my right and two apartments away
is a woman who fought life in the streets
she spends afternoons with her dog
they are a melding of hearts
a life now existing in a sober ambiance
graduate cum laude of a woman's shelter
there are more jewels i have in this courtyard
separating the roaming cats
from my passion of feeding birds
and they listen, sitting here peace reigns
night they have the bowl i prepare
in case any needs a nightly snack
as mom always said
the real jewels in life
never know a chain or finger
they are captured by the eye
and held forever in memory
where they will serve you well
when life has its' stumbles
they will give you peace
in the worst gale that calls you away
they are life's jewels teaching you
how eagles rise above the storm
Oregon 10/23
Categories:
earns, encouraging, growth, memory, mother
Form:
Free verse
Written: September 330, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A brown ribbon-like road with a blue sky.
A jungle of green, with the sky peeking high.
Asters are velvety rich, as a grasshopper's call.
Time flies—today is heat and tomorrow is fall.
Do you beguile me erratically, Hope?
The day of your birth has just waned.
But its white wings are full of scope.
With eyes that sang rhapsody, light reigned.
Grew bulky and bright and my path was clear.
Under their calming beams and smiles, dear...
A path going to some guilt-free land.
To which a star drops from the nightstand!
When did I leave the prisonhouse of clay?
My cantankerous spirit will vanish away.
We bestow all praise on the eternal elixir of bliss.
Oh, don't bury me amid rotting bones diss.
Amid a moon icy light, marble slabs shimmer.
Where a hapless mourner will always simmer.
Upon the graves of those who lie in peace.
While basking in the sun on a woodland lease.
Indulge in the September and fall faith.
September is unlike every other wraith
Colors and weather swing over the day.
No other month can claim the same way.
Season of hazy and luscious ripeness.
Loyal ally of the sun as it earns rifeness.
Crafting a scheme to load and bless him.
Vine-covered thatch-eaves surge, full of vim.
Using pears to twist the mossy home trees.
And yield every fruit its full, deep bloom breeze.
Inflate the squash and cram the hazel seeds.
With the tasty kernel, deeper buds will breed.
And further, later blooms for the bees.
Until they believe warm days will never cease.
The summer season has clogged their pores.
Who hasn't seen you often in your store?
Categories:
earns, analogy, september,
Form:
Rhyme
We are not the same, not naked… no shame
We tend the golden grains… our game;
My Eve’s name and game flows like fame
And her pens and pleasures you cannot tame
We are from different races… reality
Yet I crave her colors and creativity
We stroll without sights in this sound city
My pen do praise her art and alacrity
We’ve got pleasant, passionate pages
Yet our daily scripts are signed by saintly sages
Oh! my Eve’s poetry pictures are immortal images
That earns her wisdom and wonderful wages
…and Crystal is her noble name,
her aim and game burns with fire , not flame.
in my heart I see her poetry picture frame;
she’s got a friendly face…she’s a darling dame
Categories:
earns, dedicationpoetry,
Form:
Verse