Best Excepting Poems
There is a new English gang in town
In the town of Punctuation
They call themselves the “Punch U” gang
A solid gang with a strong foundation
The Punch-U gang members consists of:
Hyphen - the gang leader
They call him Dash
He is charismatic, clever, a born leader
Firm but fair…. excepting no gang trash
Exclamation point ! Dash’s right hand man
They call him Lanky
He is confident and likes to make his point
Dramatic and often a little cranky
Asterisk * Dash’s girlfriend
They call her Starr
She is smart, astute, keeps mental notes
A free spirit who sings and plays guitar
Question Mark ?
They call him Curly
He is so very inquisitive
Often indecisive
A deep thinker and quite surly
Comma ‘
They call him Jack
He is quite the lad and joker
Jack often steps out of line
And needs to be kept on track
Brackets ( )
Identical twins called Jill and Joy
Always together or never far apart
Fun and happy
Popular with the boys
Full stop .
They call her Dot
Outspoken and very definite
Always likes to have the last word
Often heard saying “ Now thats it….just Stop”
Quotation Mark “
And yes they call him Mark
He likes being the centre of attention
Being in the know
Does not like being left in the dark
Apostrophe ‘
They call her Sue
With Sue there is always something else to come
Taking short cuts
Is what Sue enjoys to do
Colon:
They call him Number-Two
Funny, entertaining and chatty
Though sometimes he takes it too far
Talking a lot of poo!
Eyes are the windows to your soul.
Can you see the sadness in one's eyes,
Or is it the sadness in one's soul?
Internal tears are wept silently,
And hidden well, I hope.
An old soul I believe I have.
I've lived a long, long life it feels.
My physical pains has taken its toll.
They say, "Be patient, time will heal."
Pain is a pesky part of being human.
I must grow in patience with myself,
And every day begin the task anew.
Excepting his outstretched arm to lean on
Will help me travel down life's path of hope.
For Frank Herrera's contest, 'Self-portrait'
Left on a branch that has a crack...
I sit still and stare out to a world of distract...
Blissful memories that hold my thoughts with a grip...
As fallen sins still have the power to trip...
I'm excepting the break and the fall that will come...
Having said my peace to the moon and sun...
It's not the drop as much as the snap that I fear...
So I will close my eyes and let faith whisper in my ear...
I want to write a thing or two about racism
A current problem causing quite a schism
Perhaps it could be seen through another prism
Outside the jaundiced lenses of current activism.
My thoughts are my own, not influenced by race,
I try not to judge others by the color of their face
Never thought too much about anybody’s “place”
Always believed our bigotry was a national disgrace.
In our little community everyone was accepted
Everyone, excepting for the very rich,* were respected
All of us by our circumstances were inter-connected
Only lawbreakers, whatever their shade, were arrested.
When we use words like race and racism in patter
When we raise our eyebrows at Black Lives Matter
The more we go along with unnecessary evil chatter
We serve up national discord on a political platter.
We should treat everyone like a family member
And when tempted to prejudice always remember
We owe to our ancestors, with all due candor,
Our place of birth, color of our skin, and our gender.
No one of us is any better than the other of us, see,
We all have the same inherent rights to be free
If someday we stand before a Holy Creator, I guarantee
S/he will see no base differences between you and me!
[*truth is, I think we did look down on the
rich folks, especially if they thought they
were better than us poor folk!]
Written 3/14/2021
HONORABLE WINNER
All-Poetry Contest
July 29, 2021
Take my mom to heaven, do it for me, so that one day I will find her there, waiting for me.
Take my mom to heaven, some place beyond the sky, to a place where there is no longer a need to cry. Where there isn’t anymore pain, where the sun is always shining, and the sky is always the brightest color of blue, a place where someday, one day I will find you.
In the realm of angels, where you will dance with grace,
Watching and waiting for our beloved face.
Guiding from above, with a gentle touch,
Her presence felt deeply, missed very much.
Words can never express the void I now feel, excepting that you are finally and forever gone, a feeling that is so surreal.
I will think of you often, as I sometimes will, when I sit and reminisce, remembering your love and wishing for your kiss.
So when the time comes to reunite once more,
In heaven's embrace, on that far-off shore,
Your love will surround me like a warm embrace,
A mother's love, transcending time and space.
Knowing one day, I will see you again, in a new place where now we can be the best of friends. A place where I can talk directly to you, and we can catch up on my life and all that I’ve seen and been through. A place full of joy, love, peace and happiness. I will see you one day when it’s my time, my final sun sets.
the cultivators
taught how to walk and talk
they approached as a group
each with a bowl of bread
given unto them by a lord
trying to speak and be strong
i said, "time moves along,
it, can't stand here all day
in contest.....i say...you say"
then they all talked at once
in different directions
throwing corrections
at everything i'd pronounce
my resources mustered
as their actions grew flustered
as my patience waned
at their reactions
their creations grew louder,
i said, "just cut the chowder,
leave now please, and don't come back"
the storm eased and mine was the final thunder clap
long since when
i've not seen them again
i can tell you they are much less
than sourly missed
in fact they've dropped off
their radar somewhere else,
excepting, of course
for their last recourse
(every once in a while)
a pamphlet at the door
You chose me.
Picked me up
this delicate shadow thin glass vessel
in some antique store by the Asian docks.
Paid for me with peacock feathers and a slice of the star I still see from my window.
Gift wrapped in a shoe box
filled with foreign headlines steaming newspaper ink.
You poked holes in the lid
with your old brass house key.
What a walk home we had that night-
you whistling that tune...
What was it?
That Spanish tune you always sang?
I knew your voice as the first fingerprints of love.
The ships set sail to lapping water on barnacles
and you took me home to candlelight
and the smell of fresh bread for your dinner.
The poor man's meal.
You unwrapped me and I smiled at you.
My first smile - so wide I almost broke my glass skin.
You filled me with violets and sank bubbled water in my throat.
An evening to remember as my first purpose in life.
Perhaps I mourn you still,
as I get passed from hand to hand
as your family heirloom.
They'll never know you as I did -
I hold your last fingerprint inside me, unwashed, untouched
excepting the last violet stem you graced me with.
You began my history, and I am the end of yours.
You Can't Make Me Love You
You can't make me love you
Because you love me,
You can't force something to happen
When something isn't meant to be,
The way you feel about me
Is not the way I feel about you,
You see a lover in me,
I only see a friend in you,
Stop trying to win me over
Stop telling me you can't let go,
Stop hoping I will say yes
And start excepting the word no,
What is it going to take
To get through to you,
No matter how much you want to be with me
I don't want to be with you,
You have to get it through your head
You have to move on,
You will find someone else to love
And it won't be to long,
Give up the chase
Just do what is right,
Stop wasting your time on me
Give up this fight.
Post coitum omne animal triste est,
sive gallus et mulier*
Yes, no cockerel who rules the cackling roost
Will stomach slander from Latin master;
But who will stand aside and let the ghost
Of hints slur old motherhood’s register.
Manhood must of needs hang its head in pain
After all the sweat and toil in loins of love;
After millions of squiggly soldiers in vain
Drop their lean tails at the egg wall alcove.
Only the fool who dares call woman’s bluff
Shall learn hard way positions in bedstead;
Virile pride will sink in the depths of fluff
While smooth gym-trained muscles rage instead.
As they say hereabouts sur le vieil Continent
La différence, Mon Sieur: lip’s shade content.
· * “After the sexual encounter every animal is
grief-stricken,
excepting the cock and the woman.”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2005-2012. From the collection:
Poems Omega Plus, 2005. Rev. 2012.
Have you met, good old Grandma Goodie, Goodie,
With her gingerbread house of sweets emporium,
Tasty treats unwholesome to eat, but oh in pleasures
Indulgence, she corners the market, the bitter,
To the sweet, with her delicious confectionery delights.
Skip, skip along the forest path of the unknown
Trail, it’s the only way to find this elderly ladies,
Fabled cottage of gumdrops and Lully pops.
Crumbling bread crumbs did you leave behind, a mark to
Follow but the black birds did eat them, piece by tender piece.
So lost you became in the wilderness wild, that you feared never
To escape, from this evergreen forest of nightmares.
Oh brother's grim, did the futures outcome look bleak until you,
Spotted, good old grandma's goodie, goodies emporium sign.
Come in all little children, and dine.
As giant candy canes lined the walk ways
Entrance of honeycomb’s of flavor to savor.
It taw’s late the hour for which you arrived,
But this elderly dame entered with a heart felt
Welcomes deepest desire, come along child
Of man, whatever you most wish will appear by
Your sweet tooth’s command.
She’s just a sweet elderly gran after all,
What harm could there be in excepting her
Hospitality, beware, says the phrase do not
Take candy from strangers comes to mind!
Nibble, nibble on her gingerbread window sill,
And fast asleep shall thee fall, under a witches
Ungodly spell, incantations evil enchantress,
Hidden beneath a grannies disguise of lavender
And white lace.
But illusions fade with the light of day,
And darkness must shed their masks of deception,
Before striking at their intended prey.
Yet modern technology, rings the apps sounding
Bell, awakening me from this childhood story gone
Cannibal!
As I take a deep signs breathe of relief,
My clock radio goes off, and on it is a
Commercial break, advertising a candy shops
Grand opening, just then a chill runs right
Through me freezing my blood to the bone,
Come along the announcer speaks, to Grandma
Goodies emporium of delicious treats,
And I promise you won’t be disappointed
My dear friends and listeners.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Were going to the Florida Keys! Were going to Florida Keys!
As I mentioned we were on our way to the Florida Keys...
it was my mother, father, my sisters and me the brother of the family,
driving down the road for what seemed to be an eternity,
we always stopped at different places between the two this time especially,
the reason being, the mother of the family is now to be excepting.
So she's extra hungry! Eating for two and craving the craziest of foods,
she pretty much had the whole East coast to choose.
My dad driving, my sister Debby and I going back and forth,
if were not for the sake of that game boy!
Now we have reach our destination,
were on Cudjoe Key! It is about 80 degree
and first I run straight to the edge of the of peer, were it looks
out and over the clearest water anywhere near Dela-Where?
The peer looks out and over the Gulf Of Mexico just amazed, excited
and anticipating exactly what ever it is that they have plained to do next,
The next day we were out to sea, all on board the The HammerHead outboard!
My Pop-pop being just as excited as me, to show us all the secret fishing spots!
my dad and I at the captains orders.
With fishing lines casted in crept the board-em,
then the noise of the reel on the pole humming the tune of something, finally something!
as my pop-pop flung back on the pole "hooking" the fish, he calls for me to take control
reeling and getting tired quick, we all soon realized it wasn't just a fish for us to consume
it was actually a Hammer Head shark!
it wasn't any bigger then about 3 foot long it was still very strong, and still as dangerous
as it looked,
Not second guessing the situation, the adults took control with all their
experience cutting the fishing line, but not before we got to take a good
long look and a couple pictures of this...
this shark the particular one that my pop-pop named his boat after,
now with a story to last a lifetime and a few kodak memory's of this specific time
only to hope as I'm watching the sun set that me and my family will soon have a story
just like this one to rewind.
Robert c Bessel jr.
2/23/2014
Yes, "Foolproof" did win third place and you sent your "Congrats"
Even before the judging I felt your sympathy
The heartfelt comments, from the very first to the last
Excepting our Sidney, who somehow saw right through me
I am taken aback and have to explain myself
I do have an Lazy Boy and a three bedroom house
I play cards online and my Avatar is an elf
I've never been fired, self employed for ten years now
I do recycle my cans, it pays the water bill
I walk my old Staffordshire "Ace" just after two
I do pray each night that the world embraces good will
I am glad I found Poetry Soup, because of you
“Ode to Rubber Boots”
By Rachel Heffington
In rubber boots you’re free to wade
Through puddle and through creek;
In rubbers you’re invincible!
(Excepting when they leak!)
I love the smell of the lake at dawn,
It's so peaceful here, just to sit and listen
No sounds but the waves slapping,
against the shore.
Birds fly by undisturbed catching
the mornings breeze.
I've watched many sunrise here,
With mother nature as mine only campaign.
That’s just fine with me, it adds to the
Personal experience it's a calming time
Just to be shared by her and I.
She the grand lady painting the horizon.
I the writer with words devotion,
Pen and paper ready at hand.
I'll sit on a blanket, leaning against
An old sun bleached log.
Satisfying true hunger desire with
Enlightenment’s simplicity.
She being my eternal muse,
The earthen mother of inspiration.
Behold a masterpiece created by
This divine maiden.
Thus restless I walk along the shore,
Trying to ponder freedoms liberation
And how to express it.
The blank page mocks me with emptiness's.
Uncertainty.
It's a humbling experience to watch an
Artist at work.
How do I capture what lies before me,
A mortal with only simple tools to
Relate such beauty
Inks imaginations links humanities spirit,
In this venue my name is solos,
And I'm truly at home here,
Lost amongst emotions glory.
A poet on destiny's shore, to wonder
Ever more in thoughts uplifting spiritual
Connection.
Excepting myself for whom I really am,
A castaway laying thin upon the wind.
Eating my lunch alone.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
And even after all that time had passed;
my moon had set above another sun,
it seems my heart was still at odds with past;
my tongue at war with words I left unsung.
This bed of ardor caught between my teeth,
will thus remain, and even grow post haste,
where all the while, there's nothing I'll bequeath
excepting flowers scent, above my waste.
And so it goes with every vacant beast,
as twenty-twenty sees - I should have done!
I should have said; I should have been, at least
a man awake to seed his endless sun.
And as the night descends upon my thought,
remember son these words that, I lived not.
© Kristin Reynolds 3 11 09