Best Evened Poems
knock knock knock
on my front door
i get up to look
it's lonliness at the door
but quite and still
i would not let
lonliness in so peacefull i slept
morning came
and with the knocks once more
but i kept my temper
and evened the score
inside i sat quietly
wishing he'd go away
but he yelled from outside
he had something to say
i said "go away"
and i put a record on
something moving and grooving
i played it all day long
but when evening came
i put on a sweater
and decided to play
something much better
something smooth
something sentimental
something with lyrics
that are very gentile
something with words
that don't dare remind
of terrible incidences
recently left behind
constantly reminding me
it should be a crime!
it should be a crime!!
it should be a crime!!!
anger was present
he had a key
i was glad to see him
and he was glad to see me
but lonliness
though being out side
made his presence known
in certian shadows
in certian rooms
anger said
"have a drink"
and handed me a bottle
"listen up. i know how to fix that flirt.
slap her in the face.
rub her name in the dirt!"
and with this
my imagination ran wild
drink after drink
we talked a while
but i remembered myself
this wasn't my style
and once again lonliness
knocked at the door
i let him in and fell
crying to the floor
why, oh why must you visit
once more?!
he said "to try to give you wisdom
where you broke down before.
to try to give you knowledge
before you go through the door.
to try to make you stronger,
if you should do it again.
and to always let you know
that i am your constant friend.
i am with you in your solitude
i am with you while you sit
surrounded by friends.
i scream my name LONLINESS!
in your ears very loud.
never forget my power
or giving me my hours."
and with that
he sat his fat ass down
I'm a firm believer
In limerick fever
(This isn't news)
"It'll cure the blues!"
Says Jan (who is no deceiver)
Written by Jan Allison:
Writing limericks is a fine art
Yes I write about poop or a fart
But show me someone
Whose not dropped a ‘bomb’
then from poetry soup I’d depart!
Written by Lim'rik Flats:
Does art mimic life or life mimic art?
Don't ask me, I'm not too smart.
It seems the soup
Has the same poop
As watching the news (or a fart).
Drama and trauma, factions and foes,
Smiting and fighting, (hard on the nose),
Saves me the trouble
Of viewing double
Saves time, and less grief I suppose.
Written by Ray Gridley:
Raise a toast to this collaboration
Whatever your race or your nation
Just write on a whim
Lim'rick Flat's bound to grin
They are all going to be a sensation!
Written by Daniel Turner:
I know a guy called Lim'rick Flats
Writes limericks at the drop of a hat
Jan is his pal
She's quite a gal
They met in a laundry mat
Jan makes jokes about poop
he puts them in alphabet soop
drinks from the bowl
with no self control
which makes him a nincompoop
Also written by Daniel Turner:
Write all the limericks you want
but don't fart in a restaurant
people will laugh
call you riffraff
even if you're a debutante
Written by John Lawless:
oh the limerick it ain’t quite a sonnet
and the learned, they look down upon it
for they cannot grasp
its head or its ass
nor the cleansing effect of its tonic
Written by Terry Reeves:
Late for work she flew out the door
Took an express elevator to the 29th floor
Let some discreet killer farts
Nearly stopped all their hearts
Left them gagging; she'd evened the score
Written by Tim Smith:
Nonsense is here found out in the alley
Five funny lines we'll add to the tally
a smile or two
we laught till we're blue
so put out your best and join in our rally
Written by Alexis Y:
Hey what's going on in the soup?
Lim'rik Flats I want the scoop
What do you have to say?
You got poem of the day
Congrats, I shouldn't have flown the coop
Written by Jean Murray:
John is always fun.
His poems and their puns.
If you need a lift.
He has the gift.
Lim'rik Flats is number one.
psst. How could I not add this to the string? ~ john
Amazon mist and rainy mornings green as the day God made them
dropping from a moist sky full of even grays and sheltering light
peaceful music playing from the spheres of a dense forest dream
we are all little humans in a big big giant cave, .... the rain
Pitter patter drops on thirsty tree in a world that is evened once again
sheets of rain fall from my window and I click click click and glean
a slow memory of old, photographs of mom and dad inside the garden
we were small and happily drinking in the scene .... the rain
A Sentinel watches from a soldiering evergreen, I lived there before
the white washed walls of peace and the age old chanterelle dance
as raindrops settle in my soul, I compose a poem about the downpour.
Petrichor scents permeate my living space as I listen to ... the rain
Rainsticks and drums Native chants and Pagan dreams of old, I remember,
Lady Gianne and her healing chants, how she lifted her face to the winds.
"Heal me now and make me whole" * " Bring peace and love forevermore"
As nature creates pathways to equity, the rain loves US,
again and again and again. .... the rain.
Social injustice and economic inequality
have always been practiced in our Nation's working industry
Irish need not apply, Hispanics we don't want your kind
and Blacks don't even show your face
this was the typical response to ethnic minorities in America's workplace
nepotism and favoritism were the norm and status quo
as it was not about your knowledge or skill but about who you know
let us never forget the unions and labor laws which evened the playing field
for if it was left up to corporate America economic inequality would never yield
Racism, discrimination and segregation on our Nation's history is a blight
and in spite of all the civil rights laws we still have to fight
for a measure of equal opportunity
for some respect and a little dignity
let us never forget the Rev. Dr. King Jr., Medgar Evers, Cesar Chavez and Rosa Parks
those who stood up against injustice by igniting a socially conscious spark
they did not back down, they would not back off, they took a moral stance
so that every single human being in this country could have an equal chance
We hold these truths to be self-evident that all citizens shall be treated the same
regardless of race, color, age, gender or how we pronounce your name
and as we celebrate Black History Month let us never forget those who led the fight
in the struggle for social justice, economic equality and basic human rights
Robin Hood
It was in the time of John
In the days that have long gone
When the plight of right and wrong
A test was set
It took a man of iron will
To battle on until
A nation he would thrill
They’d ne’er forget
For John was all consumed by greed
He over taxed those most in need
Pleas of the peasants wouldn’t heed
How they’d shout
Though against his deep belief
Robin became a famous thief
To muster hope and some relief
For those without
Stepped forward Robin Hood
With his motives understood
He set out to do some good
For the poor
To his side a band of men
Some of sword and some of pen
Gathered round him, planned and then
Evened the score
High adventures, escapades
Among the woods and leafy glades
As Robin led his daring raids
He did surprise
Pouncing on the shallow rich
From every tree and bush and ditch
Relieving them of every stitch
To equalize
When the news to John was brought
He ordered Robin must be caught
Example to the people taught
To keep them bound
Soldiers he sent out in the wood
Blundered about, it was no good
No sight or sound of Robin hood
Was to be found
With a price upon his head
Wanted both alive or dead
Not a clue did one man shed
As to his lair
For all good men could plainly see
Through his selective robbery
It was the way it had to be
To make life fair
For their king old England yearned
And when at last Richard returned
He found a lesson had been learned
Of how to rule
Of your people earn their trust
Let your reign be fair and just
And remember that you must
Ne’er be cruel
Though a saint he’d never be
For he’d robbed to set men free
From the awful tyranny
Of evil John
Still he’s hard not to admire
Whether surf or land-borne squire
To his height try to aspire
Everyone
When he knew that he would die
He shot an arrow through the sky
Where it stuck he wished to lie
Next Sherwood oak
Though the truth may now be faint
And the story old and quaint
He remains a noble saint
To all good folk.
The familiar sound of gunshots
rings out in the dead of night,
As a sniper takes position in the
bushes out of sight,
Past my front door I hear the
sound of many marching feet,
As 2 Para make their presence
felt upon a Belfast street,
Gerry Adams does a hard days
graft 'n' then it's homeward
bound,
As a British soldier just
nineteen lays bleeding on the
ground,
Well he fought for queen 'n'
country so it comes as no
surprise,
As he draws his last
breath,says a prayer and there
a hero dies,
So many slain civilians(they're
just casualties of war,
Do the f*ckers even realise
what it is they're fighting for?
Or has the whole point of it got
lost in the mists of time?
The Ira take credit for their
latest deadly crime,
In a safe house miles from
nowhere there's three loyalists
lying dead,
One in a grave (he was buried
alive) and two with one straight
through the head,
But the score it was evened
before the cock crowed,three
catholic civilians were slain,
And there's rumours of
vengeance and fights to the
death and calls to keep calm
from Sinn Fein,
As politicians armed with pens
sit counting up lost lives,
The Ulster Paramilitary sit
sharpening their knives,
And loading slugs into the clip
of someone else's gun,
"Come on now lads there's dirty
deeds awaiting to be done"
In Londonderry,County Down,in
Belfast,Newry too,
The Catholics and the
Protestants keep Ireland torn in
two,
As our children grow in the
shadow of fear,
There's a stench of death and
bloodshed here,
So you with the power please
give us the chance,
To find a solution and finish the
dance,
Give Ireland back to the Irish
pleeaasssse!
Or bring the whole damned
nation crashing down to its
knees.
Order dispatched from the commander in chief
Send in the men, the mission to be done
To conquer the enemy, long last and due
Proudly they went in, America’s sons
Ever in danger, but alert and on guard
Objective they know and eager to find
Dark in the compound, bare minimum light
Proceeded as instructed with mission defined
The battle, it started as a shot gave off light
No American casualties among the guns sound
Left standing, the sons, objective was met
Well planned execution with boots on the ground
No aerial strike this evening, for sure
As camouflaged men had evened the score
The familiar sound of gunshots rings out in the dead of night,as a sniper takes position in the bushes out of sight,
Past my front door I hear the sound of many marching feet,as II Para make thier presence felt upon a Belfast street,
Gerry Adams does a hard days graft and then it's homeward bound,as a British soldier just nineteen lays wounded on the ground,
Well he fought for Queen and country so it comes as no surprise,as he drew his last breath,said a prayer and there a hero dies,
So many slain civilians there just casualties of war,do these people even realise what it is they're fighting for?
Or has the whole point of it got lost in the mists of time,the I.R.A take credit for thier latest deadly crime,
In a safe-house miles from nowhere ther's three loyalists lying dead,one in a grave[he was buried alive]and two with one straight through the head,
But the score it was evened before the cock crowed three Catholic civilians were slain,and there's rumours of vengence and fights to the death and calls to keep calm from Sinn Fein,
As politicians armed with pens sit counting up lost lives,the Ulster Paramilitary sit sharpening thier knives,
And loading slugs into the clip of someone elses gun,cpme on now lads there's dirty deeds awaitin to be done,
In Londonderry,County Down,in Belfast,newry too,the catholics and the protestants keep Ireland torn into,
as our children grow up in the shadow of fear,there's a stench of death and bloodshen here,
So you with the power to give us a chance,let's find a solution and finish the dance,
give Ireland back to the Irish....please,or bring the whole damned nation crashing down to its knees.
foggy spirits unfurl from his flared nasal crypts,
with each snort and snarl and curl of his lips,
the bull stands before me, unshakably strong-
he knows who I am, and I must prove him wrong.
i’ve beaten and shoved him, though I trip as I try,
but no matter my method the beast never dies,
he’s bitten me, trampled me, bruised me and gored
and for each scar inflicted, I’ve evened the score.
I kicked at his hooves and I’ve slashed him with knives,
we’ve bitterly tousled for most of our lives-
he bellows his bluff, stares me down with daggers,
but I’ve grown unmoved by the force of his swagger.
for the ways that he’s hurt me are nothing compared,
to the time that I’ve wasted feeling rageful, and scared.
it could go on forever, or end the next moment-
in this sick stalemate, will we live to have known it?
at the brink of my gumption, I’ve no choice but to try-
picking sweet smelling flowers as small as his eyes,
a concilate crown, wide enough for his horns,
he eyes me uncertain, yet bows to be adorned.
tho we won’t be fooled into thinking he’s tamed,
for now a respite has been put to our game-
i’m no longer his hostage, his master, his whore-
while the flowers are nourished by his violent allure.
What once required the sacrifice,
That bloody gift of death and gore,
Of animal life to pay for sin
Is left behind and is no more.
Resurrection changes things.
Jesus Christ obeyed the Father,
Sacrificed Himself on the cross,
Evened up those holy books
That list our profit and our loss.
Resurrection changes things.
Where once we followed our understanding
And made our own decisions,
Now belonging to Jesus Christ
Our life is one of holy revisions.
Resurrection changes things.
When we're united with Jesus Christ
We're a new creature in the Son;
Our old way of life hangs dead on the cross
And life everlasting is now begun!
Resurrection changes things.
No prison doors can hold our soul.
Christ sets our spirit free
And fills our life with love and hope
That rings our world in victory.
Resurrection changes things.
So tell someone in the pain of their life
Of the freedom Jesus brings,
That sets us apart from sin and death;
How the soul that's set free sings!
Tell them: Resurrection changes things.
by E. Marshall Evans
I stood in the middle of a rose garden
I watched nature map out its own pattern
I quietly listened out for the budding
And heard the sound of a bee buzzing
I stood in the middle of a rose garden
I saw withering evened out by blossom
I sought after a floating flutter
I sought after the wings of a flower
What could be missing in this scenic botany?
Aroma and beauty is not the only expectancy
It feels like a beauty parlour without hairdressers
It feels like a sweet flavor without taste-testers
The greeter of the flower buds
The day watch of rosariums
The symbol of a warm welcome
Is in the romance of a butterfly
Daylight misses their soundless claps
Daylight misses their flight
We clipped their colorful flaps
When we killed all the butterflies
Whispering winds traveled silently
Entourage of disappointments
Lacking no flamboyance
Suddenly yet violently
Came knocking on my door
Shameless audacity
Challenged my veracity
I did not want more
I evened out the score
Gale force winds attacked
Ripped away the memories
and tore with heavy scorn
tossed away the presumption
A new wind was born
The winds of change had come
But this time did not play
They came adversity to slay
The wind of silence has begun
And so it would remain
Engaging disappointment
We shall now refrain
Permanent the stain
HE ALWAYS LOVED ME 4-2-09
All of my life, He loved me
I first took notice of it
When I was about three(3)
Every tear, every frown
Lifts my spirit, when I need to be unwind
At age seven(7)
He taught me, how to be a true friend
And how to return genuine love
Even way back then
When I was about nine or ten(9-10)
Someone else took my innocence
Who’d I thought was a family friend
And…That Man Loved Me
By Eleven or possibly twelve(11-12)
It happen to me again
So I took off running away from Him
Because of another horrible man
That wasn’t the plan
When I was fourteen(14)
I felt no longer clean
thought I
Had no father figure to listen to
My hopes and dreams
By fifth teen(15)
I found my first love
We indulged in adult things
We had no business, we had a child
And…This Man Still Loved Me
With unconditional love, and a lot of beguile
At Seventeen(17)
I was on my second bout, with another mans child
But He still showed me that he loved me
Without a doubt
Between then and the last of my teens,
I had been running about, still looking for love
When a stranger came on the scene, my envy had turn green
No physical love in my world, just trouble and strife
I was trying to figure out how to again,
Come clean
So I married a man who claimed to except me and my kids,
I had no idea that he was abusive and would beat my ass
And fracture my ribs
Twenty one now and two(21 children later
I realized that the man I trusted and married
Wasn’t my hero, he was nothing but a hater
To be beaten and stripped of my dignity and pride
I was going down fast, from where I thought I was
In for the long haul, not a pretentious, joyride
And after all this, He Still Loved Me
By age twenty two(22),
He gave me the OK, on what and how to do
What should’ve been done when
His love for me was new
He did an instant replay of my life,
Reminding me of my innocence
He reminded me of His Agape Love
And that it came without a price
He said: your season here is over and done
For your battles are no longer under the gun
He said: I never stop loving you
And before all is said and done
You are again with child, and with this seed you carry
I have evened the score,
And peace and harmony in your life,
I already begun to restore.
Season of bliss; drops from afar pelt greens
Wearily grasses splashed and blushed in kins
Boring cold canopied the tired halls
Curtains of strained times peaked towering walls
This ageless path leads everywhere but home
Darkened lanes knitted its lenght in loose comb
Deeply watching roofs pecked in disarray
Through death holes, above vain pits, where dirts lay
At the circle of the beaded calabash-
Prime of the town; a lord hails with no match
His rod longs beyond radius of his sphere
His ways are perfect, to whom life is dear
Crowned lord of the soil, second to the gods
On stairs, where men stares, not step, his throne odds
Born in this month of clouds and thrills of rain
Skies of gloom enshrouds with chilled wails of pain
Evened feelings lacking densed parity
Still smile's kernel, shelters crude hope only
On nailed grounds, callus knees crawled back and forth
Boiling brooding blood blind with discomfort
And when june eloped with carved memories
Daring showers followed, that bode victories
Amazon mist and rainy mornings green as the day God made them
dropping from a moist sky full of even grays and sheltering light
peaceful music playing from the spheres of a dense forest dream
we are little humans in a big big giant cave, .... the rain
Pitter patter drops on thirsty tree in a world that is evened once again
sheets of rain fall from my window and I click click click and glean
a slow memory of old, photographs of mom and dad inside the garden
we were small and happily drinking in the scene .... the rain
Sentinel watches from soldiering evergreens I lived there before
the white washed walls of peace and the age old chanterelle danced
as the raindrops settle in my soul, I compose a poem about downpour
Petrichor scents permeate my living space as I listen to ... the rain
Rainsticks and drums Native chants and Pagan dreams of old I remember
Lady Gianne and her healing chants, how she lifted her face to the winds
"Heal me now and make me whole" * " Bring peace and love forevermore"
As nature creates pathways to equity, the rain loves US, .... the rain