Best Expenses Poems
Six feet tall, feisty and tipping the scales
Aunt Eva approached life so playfully
Living in the moment, not fretting details
Even at 80 no harsh wrinkles had she
Just a few laugh lines from a life filled with joy
She couldn’t budget, her spending was free
Her brother (my father) was a CPA
It seemed he was forever bailing her out
When living expenses she couldn’t pay
Her gifts to others were funny as well
A used Bruce Springsteen shirt she bought for me
It was stained, too small and had a strange smell
This aging widow had young men calling
She was their dance queen and rocked all night long
Some may have found her youthful dance dates appalling
Last time I saw her, she stood in the street
Grinning and waving, as we drove away
I watched her fade from view from the car’s back seat
A single red, heart-shaped balloon isn’t enough
So I splurge and buy fourteen adorned by cupid
I tie them to the chair of my beloved “Hot Stuff”
To think mere balloons might please him would be stupid
So I search and search for the grandest tea roses
His favorite warm colors are all blended in each
His desk they decorate in striking poses
Hope these will do the trick and his passion beseech
But then I remember his strong chocolate craving
Godiva treats I purchase and spare no expense
Set beside roses, surely he’ll be raving
He’ll be home in an hour; I can’t bear the suspense
When the door opens, I am wearing a teddy
The Valentine card he takes with a gloomy look
When he sees his desk, he wails, “Enough already!”
And he doesn’t even try my straps to unhook
How puzzled I feel when he says, “We have to talk”
No, he hadn’t forgotten this lovers’ holiday
Into his small closet he suggests we should walk
He seems so depressed; I’d expected a hooray
Piled high in the closet are all occasion gifts
Gaudy Christmas sweaters and tons of chocolate hearts
He can’t find his clothes and between us grows a rift
To sort through this maze, he would need a detailed chart
“Take all this stuff with you and please just leave my home
In fact, I’ll pay your expenses to relocate
And be sure to take that hideous garden gnome
Make it snappy, will you? I have a date at eight!”
*For Joyce’s “Emotional Response” contest
‘Hey stomach,’ says anus,
‘Would you cut the crap.’
“It’s not me,’ stomach says;
‘I won’t take the wrap.
It’s what they’re eating,
So blame teeth and mouth.
I’m innocent,’ says stomach,
‘For that filth down south.’
Brain has a good laugh
At organ expenses,
By prodding infighting
Over false offenses.
‘Are you kidding me,
You two dumb kidneys.
Always a teamed pair
For a fight that’s not fair!’
Roared livid liver
Who was hardly pleased,
That they blamed him
For the smelly feces.
‘Oh stop it now, liver
Just sit there and filter.
We said no such thing;
Don’t get out of kilter.’
‘Tee-he-he,’ laughs brain.
My plan’s working well,
To keep each organ
At odds over a smell,
That they have no power
To change or repair,
And since they can’t think
They’ll stay unaware.’
Hands and mouth kept
Eating junk by the hour.
Having been brainwashed,
They blindly devour.
Long ago brain trained eyes
To focus on the news,
Now it was time for all
Parts, to pay ‘their’ dues.
Bones pipe up, and say,
‘Something doesn’t feel right,
Hey muscles loosen up;
Why do you squeeze so tight?’
Muscles answer and say,
‘Colon and intestines
Are the guilty squeezers,
Causing congestion.
I’m just doing my part
At the request of the brain.’
‘But muscles,’ says bones,
‘It’s causing me pain.’
And after a while
Brain has all body parts,
At odds with themselves;
Over endless bad farts.
Organs, blood, and guts
Could not get along;
They once did their jobs
Keeping the body strong.
But brain has the answer,
‘Let’s vote on what to do.
Either I run the show,
Or you deal with bad poo!’
Yes, brain got them quibbling
And each held a grudge.
All based on false info
That made brain, ‘King Judge’.
So each part gave in
To that sneaky design,
And waited for orders
From brain to assign.
But brain was a liar
And steered organs wrong.
The body collapsed;
It didn’t take long.
Just like brain, most statesmen,
Fool us like we’re tarts.
Let’s not die for their lies,
But stay whole, not apart.
It was time to visit the stars
To embrace them with my senses
Though the price was astronomic
I saved up for the expenses
Most think stars are unreachable
Due to the heat that they emit
But perhaps they’re very cautious
Just like a candle barely lit
To my delight way out in space
I manned microphones to listen
And those astral bodies obliged
With unheard of stellar hissin’
Yet as I approached a star’s sphere
After flying the cosmic trades
The brightness was so intense, that
I had to double up my shades
And I can describe what I saw:
Just imagine a sunrise view
As seen, not through a broad window
But rather in the room with you
So no doubt that shine would lead one
To coming to the conclusion
That stars are inhospitable
But my suit was safe for fusion
I attempted smelling their scent
But was honestly not impressed
As the smell was like burnt popcorn
Which is an odor I detest
I couldn’t say that star was burnt
For that flawed logic is misplaced
Yet that stench made me hesitate
To give a roasted star a taste
Sure it twinkles in the dark sky
Like a sugary cosmic treat
But just like mentioning candy
It would probably wreck my teeth
Lastly, touching a star is like
A swimming pool in the hot sun
With those spots of warmer water
Times a million degrees, plus one
Visiting the cosmos was worth
Having stars arouse my senses
Yet it isn’t for everyone
And comes with some consequences
But don’t you take my word for it
When you are traveling in space
Since stars are an acquired love
To be approached at your own pace
We live in a world where sickness abounds,
Sometimes stumping the best of providers.
Symptoms and tests almost always expound,
While the emotional costs grow wider.
The travel and care and expenses we bare,
In dollars and tears for a healing.
Pale when compared, with the voluminous prayers,
Our reverence and humility kneeling.
Seeing through to the end, great strength we must take,
And the position that attitude matters.
A stiff upper lip and a smile sometimes fake,
Anything less, and fragile hope easily shatters.
Yet until we’re called home, to streets paved with gold,
Or abodes filled with love and affection,
Widely known in the hearts, of the young and the old,
Laughter remains, life's greatest healing medication!
2009 and the expenses scandal
Made Gordon Brown, the Prime Minister, lament
So John Bercow, was appointed new ‘Speaker’
To be ‘The Commons’ new broom, was his intent
But he was faced, with an unlikely challenge
In his efforts to clean up ‘the house’
For running loose, in his official residence
Was a small, grey, furry, wily mouse
‘The Speaker’s’ efforts to entrap his visitor
All failed, with equal measure
So Sally, his wife, used her ‘Twitter’ account
To seek help on catching the creature
“Eeek, we have a mouse!” she did post
“And under the dish washer it’s run,
It’s Sunday, and the ‘mouse-catcher’s’ day off
Can someone tell me – what can be done?”
“My husband’s been ever so manly
But all of his efforts have failed,
Please can someone come up with a plan
To put this small rodent in jail?”
Suggestions came from near and far,
But all of them failed to succeed
The mouse still evaded the Bercow’s grasp
This led Labour MP, Gordon Prentice, to plead
To ‘The Commons’, “Why not have a resident cat
To rid ‘The House’ of the mouse population?”
But the members said, “No – that’s inhumane
We prefer control over eradication
This ‘House’ has stood for centuries, and,
There’s always been a problem with mice
But to bring in a cat, to kill them all
Well, the voters wouldn’t consider that, nice!
That’s why Parliament employs the ‘mouse-catcher’
To monitor and control the pests
So, until he can catch the Bercow’s mouse,
They’ll just have to live with their uninvited guest!”
I worked in an Insurance office and loved my job
But the manager was an idle fat slob
He’d put in expenses sheets for work he hadn’t done
And was out of the door in front of everyone
But I digress…
He asked me to call two people on the phone
Could’ve called them himself but I didn’t moan
When I saw the names of the people I thought it was a joke
Surely these couldn’t be real names of these unfortunate folk
One man was called Olaf Pratt
I saw his name and laughed at that
The second was called Mr Erdogdu
It made me think of doggy pooh on my shoe!
I picked up the phone to dial the first number
But I started to laugh, it was a real blunder
I was unable to call; all I could do was giggle
My tears flowed and how my shoulders did wiggle
I composed myself to try and make the second call
Pressed a couple of digits, but I couldn’t dial them all
For I started laughing at Mr Erdogdu’s name
I’d failed at my task it was a terrible shame
The boss came in and asked why I hadn’t called
When he saw I’d been laughing he was quite appalled
I was as red as a beetroot and had tears in my eyes
To me the names were SO funny, this fact I couldn’t disguise
Snatching the piece of paper he gave me the cold shoulder
I cringe at this memory even though now I’m so much older
Since then I’ve had friends with surnames of Moron and Looney
I’m glad I’m more mature now and not that lass that was gooney!
This poem really is based on true events but I had to make these calls on separate days and not together as in this tale … but the result was the same I couldn’t make these calls for laughing at these unfortunate names.
My most embarrassing moment Contest Sponsored by Cindi Rockwell
07~15~16
There is a disturbing discrepancy
Between mortals and the spirit world,
Such as the eternal salvation of man
From the curse of sin and its hold.
The paradox of a meek virgin conceiving
After being by the Spirit overshadowed,
And then a perfect chap is born in a manger
Is a narrative of its own peculiar mode.
That in death life was made everlasting
And in suffering relief was won,
Is a creed that requires bravery to embrace,
And great conviction to believe in such a One.
Perhaps the reason why I believe in Him
Is because he only asks that I believe,
Perchance I would abandon my little faith
If was not a mortal so powerless and naïve.
And perhaps the reason why you believe in Him
Is because you only want to look fashionable enough,
Or are simply totally unsure of your afterlife
And fear finding the Judgment Panel so solemn tough.
And maybe your preacher finds it even harder to believe
The tall story he has been telling strangers day by day,
And he maybe he would quit being a peddler of funny tales
Had he another way to earn his keep and his expenses pay.
Perhaps the reason why pagans and agnostics refuse to accept
The story of this Immortal Chap who is reportedly the way and truth,
Is because they find it a bit safer to believe in nothing at all
Than to place such great stakes on the escapades of a Jewish Youth.
Now there’s the little matter of the Helper,
The benign Spirit who descended on the Pentecost
To prove without doubt that the Chap indeed was God,
But then He’s still unseen, and any may claim his presence.
I do not write to spurn the endless graces of the sky
Nor to quash my eligibility to eternal breath,
I without blasphemy observe the uncertainties facing man
And his innocent inquiry into life after death.
To believe in this Jewish Chap who forgave also the unborn
Is a risky business, and one of the greatest tragedies by the way;
The only bigger tragedy being your refusal to believe in Him
And yet find Him at the gates of Paradise on the Judgment Day.
As crotches go, mine is up there with the best
I would even classify it as exceptional
One would think it all comes down to size
But size is only part of the equation
Of course size is a very major consideration
But as important is it's appearance of strength
I think you know what I'm getting at
The forward thrusting motion is a major factor
In fact, probably if I had to decide
THE most important attribute is a strong forward thrust
And equally important is the quick recoil
In fact, I have just published a book on the subject
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Dedicated to my dear cyber sister, Jan
© Jack Ellison 2014
My Future Child
The truth is:
one cannot tell,
what dreams and nightmares,
the future will unveil.
Your life is foretold,
through a veritable plan;
where you get options,
planted in each hand.
Each choice unlocks,
another vast universe.
Inside there are challenges,
for you to traverse.
Future child of mine,
do not fear your mistakes.
Life never comes to us,
‘gifted’ on a silver plate.
You will learn and grow,
despite consequences.
Always have belief in you,
against the cost in raw expenses.
Keep love deeply,
locked within your heart.
This way when things fail,
you will never fall apart.
Maintain honesty and surely trust,
allowing any distractions,
in time to diminish to dust.
A child has the future,
in sight to seize.
This my child,
is the amazing gift,
I freely give,
to thee.
Copyright Elle Smith 2017
'Tis know wander nor em aye telling yew anything gnu,
Hour tongue is awash with homophones confounding me end ewe.
Ah, two sea thee broad expenses from a towering mountain peek;
Thee pristeen see, thee rolling veil end meandering creak.
Watt a thrill two watch thee eagle as it sores threw thee heir;
With incisive ayes it seeks its pray with indomitable flare!
Sergeants ar knowted four naming voluntears write out of thee blew,
With that knot sew subtle commend, "Eye knead you, ewe end yew!"
Watt they were volunteared fore, they haven't thee slightest clew,
Butt that is a part of army life, beeing tolled watt two dew!
Wee're tolled inn thee Good Book that inn thee grate buy-end-bye,
Wee shell awl return two dust wen it comes hour our too dye.
It can bee etched upon my stone wen my life comes two a cease:
"Though he maid grate youse of homophones, Mae he lye inn piece!"
Lines more lunatic than the sun – 7
playing on the raw-coal
the under-clothes of the airhostesses
continue to sing a song
even-then the germination of the almonds
can never become the sugar-candy
made of palmyra
may be they don’t want so
until and unless any night-guard comes
and deposits the RBCs of the jack-fruit-leaves
within a wrinkle-free hand-glove
you do absorb all colours
from the soil of the earthworms
and thus unfold your open hair
along the air of this cloudy day
then none but the gughni-sellers
will get back their names and titles
there is from the sky of the timber of hog-plum
it has rained even last night
the streets are wet
the trees are wet
there is splashing mud in the low lands
those all full-of-incidents
if you wish
you can send them
to the introduction of a proposal against war
i’ve never heard that
to take the responsibility
of the starving south-east
the rain has put down its crown
Lines more lunatic than the sun – 8
all on a sudden
one day again
i face the isabgool
the own fountain of vraj-kishore
may be, wants to fly away in such a manner
to another afternoon
my tiffin-expenses cann’t discover that valley
till now
from where
it is said
all night-gowns begins
then i’m sitting
with my hands and legs spread
in the sun-light
filled with
the sound of chopping of cabbages
on the flowers of the sun-plant
that are in-between the wife and her mother-in-law
i exercise my intelligence very much
if the question of my security is raised
it is only a ‘for-God’s-sake’-like adjuration
the knot of a white handkerchief is so much heavy
i don’t know earlier
my knowledge of using prosody
getting amalgamated calmly
with the stamen used by the sleep
WHEN MOTHER PULLS THE CART
Way back my classmate of middle school
Lost early on his father in the clutch of cancer
Destitute family cart mother was forced to pull
Clouds of trying times in the void sky he saw gather.
The study expenses weren’t easy to meet
He thought from the school he would drop out
But his mother said he needn’t, should never do it
She would soon find the way out, without any doubt.
He had no idea what that way could be
He was so assured, didn’t lose sleep over it
For he knew mother would do her best to see
Her bright son finished the school study with credit.
He woke up in the middle of a winter night
Found his mother’s bed empty, not slept on
When this happened routinely night after night
He decided to find out where she could’ve gone.
In the dead of cold night he went out to explore
Saw from the antique room a streak of light seep
He peeked through the keyhole of the closed door
She was stitching cloth bags, eyes half-closed in sleep.
January 23, 2019
Contest : All Yours (Feb 19)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
M y heart is joyfully raised to Thee, Oh Lord I implore
Y our loving guidance and grace for what’s in my heart’s core
T his year, I promise to renew my vow to Thee
W hatever I do, I’ll always do my best in Your glory
E arnestly, I’ll perform all my duties at work
N ever leave my side, Lord--grant me strength and good health
T o be patient at all times in my journey with many children
Y our image and great love be seen in me and in my talents
T his year, I’ll give more time to take care of myself
W atch the foods I eat, drinks and take time to rest
E very weekend, I’ll go for massage, join recreations
N ever give up my exercises like aerobics or sports
T ake time to swim at nearby swimming pools
Y es! I’ll also do gardening. That’s fun and cool!
T his year, I want deeper spiritual encounter with God
H ave lots of time for prayers and singing hymns-- I’ll be glad
R enew my baptism through recollections and consecration
E mpower my spiritual life through constant adoration
E nrich discipleship through charity, spread God’s words.
R emind myself always that I’m not getting any younger
E stablish better time management to accomplish faster
S ave list of events, take notes and reminders
O ptimism should always be carried on my shoulders
L earn to control my expenses, save for my future
U rgent needs and charity are priorities and no more
T each my children how to recycle, reuse and reduce
I nstill in their mind, the value of saving earth, not abuse
O ne of my educator’s program this year is a mission
N ew campaign of saving Mother Earth for next generations
S o help me God that I’ll abide in all my New Year’s resolutions.
Dec. 31,2022 9.39am
Resolutions for 2023
Contest Judged: 1/5/2023 12:09:00 AM
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Place 3 (up to 5 multi-w)
My warmest greetings of a Healthy, Happy and Prosperous New Year 2023 to all! God bless!
Never wish for an easy life
Be prepared to endure a hard one.
You don’t have to own to enjoy something
To be twice as rich, halve your expenses.
Let me tell you a mind blowing principle.
“You don’t have to own something to enjoy it”
Instead of owning a pool,
We can park at the ocean for free water play
Instead of gym membership
We can enjoy kayaking, fishing or scuba diving
Of course via small rental payments.
There is another one, shocking but worth a while
“Lack of money buys freedom”.
If you’re filthy rich, enjoy limitless freedom
A dirt poor too enjoys pretty much freedom.
Now owning nothing but freedom only
To live full potential life without restrictions
If left alone with no rules to restrict you
You create beautiful things out of the garbage.
“Waste is the best” and think of John Keats
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever”
If you get that beauty, what more do you want?
+++
December 29, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Fifth Place win