Best Edition Poems
Well hopefully you've read the last "Poetry for Poets", now here's the one I wanted to write, enjoy...
POETRY FOR POETS
(I own this- edition)
Poems
more organic than fertilizer
rooted in the **** of life
manure
Some grow wild
seeking their light
through a gnarled thicket
of images
and symbolism.
Ill watered
or sprayed with chemical defoliants
they strangle themselves,
few
managing to blossom.
Manicured
Poems thoughtfully precisely planted
to achieve optimum yield
banquet
though occasionally
poems require to be forged
beaten into shape
like a horse shoe
with a few holes
accurately placed
ensuring they will be nailed
to their purpose
Pruned
dead words and metaphors
selectively snipped away
stunning display
There are times when it’s best to live with your poetry
Cover yourself with its words until they stretch and become sloppery
For its comfort increases as the stanzas begin to fray
Patched elbows illuminating what you intend to say
And eventually you’ll have a poem to slip into by the fire
To savour with hot chocolate as it ignites your desire
Poems
more organic than fertilizer
flourish when tendered
with love
Another One Shuts Down (Corona virus version)
Gates and boards and reels of wire
Garbage by the gates
Driveway overgrown with grass
The factory is a state
Security checks once an hour
To make sure all's still locked
Another business shut it's door
the economy was rocked
Another workplace bites the dust
Another one shuts down
To find the business district here
You've got to leave the town
They're closing up 'bout one a month
Jobs are leaving by the score
When you leave, turn out the lights
And please folks, lock the door
Work is leaving faster than
It has ever in the past
There's more folks on assistance
How long will this all last?
Fifty years a hundred ten
Factories closing shop
There's more buildings that are vacant
Our growth came to a stop
It doesn't matter where you go
It's that damn covid one nine
If you are not essential
Out goes the "CLOSING" sign
It all comes down to profit
You're a number not a name
It doesn't matter where you go
Plant closure is the game
Another workplace bites the dust
Another one shuts down
To find the business district here
You've got to leave the town
They're closing up 'bout one a month
Jobs are leaving by the score
When you leave, turn out the lights
And please folks, lock the door
I am here on an archaeological quest,
to satisfy many a curious mind's request
for knowledge on antiques and artifacts
of Egypt's long extinct historical facts,
in treasured sands buried, like gold mines earnestly
sought for in stories shrouded in mythology.
With a large contingent just as curious as I,
hardly daunted by curses, but with shoulders high,
we went to the field, the sun baking us chaps
to a baker's delight. With our rumpled maps,
we searched every clue, and were bitten perhaps
by a million flies. Getting relief from sunless skies
in times of fair weather, whilst hoping something lies
in the depths of the hot sands for our very eyes
to see. With my tools by hard work and search worn out,
I brushed to full view, the tomb, brilliantly carved out
of young blue blooded Tut, regally laid to rest.
To my wearied colleagues, I spoke in real earnest:
'To exhume the past, we are here at last.'
Form:
I’m a limited edition, when all is said and done
Nothing special, only unique in a maze of humdrum
Kill spiders for a pastime, coz I hate their beady eyes
Watching me try to sleep, as they paralyse butterflies
I’m a limited edition, pulling cobwebs from beams
In great physical shape, yet mentally challenged it seems
Guilty of every known sin, with mitigation of course
They are all in my head, except when I use fatal force
I’m a limited edition, preprogrammed to survive
From one day to another, til next time I’m not revived
Still it’s great to be alive, from a dead man’s point of view
I certainly possess one, in a preserve this mind grew
I’m a limited edition, my pets couldn’t care less
Well possibly they do, but look up to me nonetheless
Take me as you find me on any given occasion
Whisper sweet nothings, I’m a sucker to soft persuasion
I’m a limited edition, light Cola makes me cringe
And hate drinking alcohol, unless going on a binge
Alas I cannot find god, he’s hidden away in reams
Leaving himself subjective, to idealistic extremes
I’m a limited edition, playing Russian roulette
Will even up the ante, fill the chamber, rig the bet
It’s a no brainer, literally speaking anyway
With just sawdust to lose, all so easy to blow away
By
David Kavanagh
Mother
Better lose the saddle than the horse’.
Every mother’s voice echo these 7 words
To her child, not just out of love,
Not entirely for love but for joy.
The joy of motherhood.
This life will be hard (they say)
Nwa m, ma o ga-adiri gi mma
She assures her young child.
n’ihi na o buru na nwatakiri adighi
Enwe oganihu o no n’aka nne
The pains of motherhood.
A mother is a child’s guide through life.
Come, follow me, close your eyes
Think of the rose, and let us go;
She said to her child at birth.
The duty of motherhood.
Nne enweghi onu ahia
A woman who has children, does not die.
She is a mother, in life and beyond.
Her name forever in the hearts of her children
And their children.
Her presence felt through memories when she’s gone.
Every child will grow up,
Age and fade off with time.
This life cycle of ours is like a river,
It goes and comes.
But a mother’s milk is priceless.
Godwin Henry Osaigbovo Pa Shakespeare
SPEAREPOETRY
POETRY FOR POETS
(wrote itself without my consent- edition)
You know when you start a poem with a specific idea of how it will look and read. Then as the words flow onto the page the poem takes on it's own life and meaning. Well this is one of those, a poem that wrote itself, I'm sure not going to claim responsibility for it, it's not funny at all!
Poetry
more organic than fertilizer
rooted in the **** of life
manure
flourishes
with moderate watering
but grows ragged and wild
intoxication
withers
with chemical pesticides
intended to eliminate the competition
defoliation
Poetry
more organic than fertilizer
lovingly tendered by life
blossoms
Standing on a tower, more than three hundred feet
As she watched a movie of her life
The rain falls, and she smiled a sad smile
She spread her arms like wings
Tears still falling, but she wanted to fly
Closing her eyes, she lift her head high
Stakes are too high
Cannot stand on her feet
Breathing, but with no life
She's undead with fake smile
And at night when she breaks, she would grasp for her wings
She forgot she was human, she forgot she can't fly
How she wanted to fly!
More than thousand feet high
Never walk on her feet
And explore her whole life
Maybe then she could smile
She would look for those wings
She'd been hoping for wings
For she wanted to fly
Yearning for sugar high
Be swept off of her feet
Oh, she longed for that life
Where she can freely smile
But it's hard just to smile
Left with dull broken wings
Even worse than a fly
And no chance to get high
With her two broken feet
Can't escape in this life.
No one cares for her life
Every day's a fake smile
And they pulled out her wings
Screaming "Girl, you can't fly!"
She let out a sigh, "Is it bad to aim high?"
"I will show them," she says, as she ran on her feet
Life, now hanging, more than three hundred feet
She wears a real smile while she stood way up high
Spread her arms just like wings, took off--and fly.
With one glance of her eyes you would turn to stone
her icy glare would chill to the bone
i talk about our Arabic teacher
a vile and very nasty creature
a shot in the head is not enough
for that creature is very tough
i would love to slit her throat with a knife
or maybe cut of her head with a scythe
a sprinkle of cyanide in her morning drink
or throw her in tar and watch her sink
booby trap her chair ,so it would explode
tie her to a car and drag her down the road
put her in a guillotine and chop of her head
stab her with a dagger and watch as she bled
put a bomb in her house and reduce it to ash
cut the brakes on her car so she would hit and crash
drive a stake through her heart and burn her with fire
get her assassinated by soldiers for hire
put a rope around her neck , and push her off a tower
throw acid at her in a hailing shower
maybe silver bullets from a silver gun
dip her in oil and into the sun
but nothing will work from what i have said
because you cant kill something that's already undead
BY: Mostafa Zaki
Up on the Housetop – Police Edition
A very touching version of Benjamin Hanby’s Up on the House Top.
A warm tribute to all dispatchers & police officers everywhere.
Up on the housetop the owner heard a big noise,
the reindeer were so loud that he lost his poise,
a man dressed white & red with a bag and all,
the alarmed resident then made a 911 call.
Ho-Ho-Ho, we got a hot call,
Ho-Ho-Ho we get to go Code-3 and all.
We call for back-up, we know it’s right,
So we can protect everyone this special night.
The man went down my chimney the caller did tell.
That caused us to do a double take as well,
he is putting out presents the caller remarked.
We’re still standing by while the K9 Barked
Ho-Ho-Ho, we got a hot call,
Ho-Ho-Ho we get to go Code-3 and all.
We call for back-up, we know it’s right,
So we can protect everyone this special night.
To set up a perimeter was the thing to do,
Prepare for the K9 and SAU.
He yelled here I am and stopped with a pause,
Walking out of the house was Santa Claus.
Ho-Ho-Ho, we got a hot call,
Ho-Ho-Ho we get to go Code-3 and all.
We call for back-up, we know it’s right,
So we can protect everyone this special night.
We calmed the caller, it’s ok he was told,
Santa still thought about giving him coal.
Santa thanked us for our job and our time,
and keeping the leash on our K9.
Ho-Ho-Ho, we got a hot call,
Ho-Ho-Ho we get to go Code-3 and all.
We call for back-up, we know it’s right,
So we can protect everyone this special night.
May you all have a safe and wonderful Christmas Holiday.
I am the brown crayon in your crayon box,
and it is clear that you need me.
I can color in the sand your child plays in,
or I can be the trunk of the tree that gives you shade.
Don't try to make me just like you,
I am pretty sure I need you too.
I am the orange crayon in your crayon box,
and it is clear that you need me.
I am the color of the fruit that holds my name,
that makes a juice so very sweet.
Don t try to make me just like you,
I am pretty sure I need you too.
I am the blue crayon in your crayon box,
and it is clear that you need me.
I can color the sky that is the cosmos above your head,
and I can give you a refreshing drink of water.
Don't try to make me just like you,
I am pretty sure I need you too.
I am the green crayon in your crayon box,
and it is clear that you need me.
I am the color of the leaves that give you shade,
and I represent the money you spend.
Don't try to make me just like you,
I am pretty sure that I need you too.
I am the purple crayon in your crayon box,
and it is clear that you need me.
Your art teacher might have told you that my name is violet.
I am the color of grapes round and sweet.
Don't try to make me just like you,
I am pretty sure that I need you too.
I am the black crayon in your crayon box,
and it is clear that you need me.
I am the most popular font color on your computer.
I am the color of the lines that make the picture in your child's coloring book.
Don't try to make me just like you,
I am pretty sure that I need you too.
I am the yellow crayon in your crayon box,
and it is clear that you need me.
I color the sun that warms the day.
and I am the color of the lemons that make lemonade you drink.
Don't try to make me just like you,
I am pretty sure that I need you too.
I am the red crayon in your crayon box,
and it is clear that you need me.
I color the cheery that taste oh so sweet,
and I am the color on map to indicate heat.
Don't try to make me just like you,
I am pretty sure that I need you too.
We are the colors in your crayon box,
and we are sure that you need us all.
We work together in harmony,
but yet we are all different as can be.
Don't try to make us just like you,
We are pretty sure that we need you too.
He pushes me towards my goals,
He encourages me to chase my dreams,
He champions my poetry,
He makes me laugh, 'til I burst my seams.
He builds me up,
He picks me up when I fall,
He teaches me to appreciate life,
He make mes feel ten feet tall.
He tells me I can be, all I want to be,
He gives me so much hope,
He stands by my side,
He helps me when I can't cope.
He makes fun of me,
He puts up with my aches and pains,
He listens to my troubles,
He laughs when I'm being insane.
He makes me feel proud,
He brews an awesome cup of tea,
He lets me warm my feet on him,
He is the only man for me.
"Final Edition" Posted 12 Sep 2021
With deep gratitude to all of who visited and commented over these 12 months of Monoku Mondays, I am hereby retiring this series. Keep laughing and bringing a smile to one another, we all need a lighthearted break from the serious side of life once in a while... especially on Mondays! ~ John
Just Say'n
a clear conscience: usually the result of a bad memory
Speaking of Memory…
i've got great memory if i could only remember to use it
Well If You Put It That Way
the grass is greener on the other side at least you don't have to mow it
Balance Is as Balance Does
a teen's idea of a balanced diet a burger in each hand
Speaking of Teens…
there's nothing wrong with teens that a little reasoning won't aggravate
How Sad
her birthday is april 1st unfortunately, no one believes her
Politics In a Nutshell
never forget the golden rule whoever has the gold makes the rules
Why I Did Poorly in English Class
I was always fated to mispell werds it was just my density
"Bits and Pieces VII" Posted 5 Sep 2021
I Wish I'd Said That
there is only one thing worse than being wealthy not being wealthy
Isn't It Ironic?
i express my non-conformity with mass-produced bumper stickers
I Know, Right?
all those who are opposed to speeding violations raise your right foot
Clueless Clem - International Dating Dunce
"like watching tennis, Cheri?" "oui!" "just a wee bit? okay, baseball then"
Little Red Writing 'Hood
i live in a red house on a writer's block but no one is writing
Quote of the Week
i went to a fight last Saturday night and a hockey game broke out ~
[humor attribution - #5 by Edmo Snord, #6 by Rodney Dangerfield, all others found online, sources unknown]
Christmas edition of PS News is out, and here's the scoop
Poets are climbing the rungs of ladders on Poetry Soup
It's not an easy feat; one to be applauded and praised
instead of opposed, demeaned, or by jealous ones, razed
Why bother looking at lists if you find them to be galling?
Frankly, I find one with such an attitude to be appalling.
Remember that Santa makes lists. Two of them, in fact
and you'll be on top of his naughty list if you overreact
Stop being so gosh darn negative about petty trivialities
We are not alike. We have many different personalities
So stop whining about poets who like to write for contests
You will surely find a lump of coal in your stocking, unless...
The Lord is my driver
I will not crash.
He buckles me the front seat of my road car.
He drives me on back roads,
He maintains my vehicle.
He leads me on the direct routes
For time saving sake.
Even though I ride on the narrow back alleys,
I will feel brave,
because He drives me.
The window and door protect me.
We travel on snow and ice covered roads in safety.
You add the lubricant to my engine.
My eyes see country.
Surely clear roads and safe trips will be my lot.
All the trips that I take.
And I will ride shotgun in His car
Forever!
bang bang choo choo train
come on honey, shake that thing
reese's reese's buttercup
mess with me i'll mess you up
peanut butter jelly time
let's all have fun tonight
every time the night's alive
music blares throughout the air
this party is a rockin' fair
i swing my hips left to right
clock ticks on, i party all night
sunrises arrives
time to go
let's keep this party goin' on!
music-rockin' (blarin')
beat was pumpin'
into you i'm always bumpin'
sweet dreams, gotta go
gave you my number
see ya next show
peace!