Best Fair(A) Poems
Winne the poo, had nothing to do, one dank and dismal day, as he sat in his chair rather filled With despair, when he heard a noise just plainly as day, it went kinda like squeek..!
Did his little chair creak? 'prhaps he had eaten too much honey.. ! Got carried away?? he was fond of that Chair, just perfect for a bear, painted a bright emerald green,with scrollwork in blue; he was Afraid it might break, oh..! Just where would he eat cake? & would his feet always ache? His thoughts they were all a to do.!!!
He got up slowly with great care, ( which is harder for bears ) it looked quite strong,
As he gazed at it long..... Then loud again came that squeek.." he followed the sound,
That came from low down.. To a rug right behind his small seat, and there was a mouse."
The first he'd seen in his house, he wondered how-why it was there, he bent down low
Hey.." the mouse didn't go..! It L 00 ked into his eyes, that was such a surprise...!
Then he saw why it squeeked and squeeked so.." Its small tail was trapped,
And yet had not snapped..? It was under the leg of his shiny green chair.." He lifted it clear,
Then continued to peer, at the mouse with two big black ears, now how are you named
Winnie exclaimed..." Mickey it said rather high, and my tail needs a repair, can you help me My bear?? as I don't have a spare, just you wait right there, Winnie said I will share, maybe There's a bandage somewhere, perhaps in my box of repairs..?? with the patches & string, needles and
Things,,! so he quickly ducked under the stairs, and searched it right through, then to mickey he Threw a bandage; to wrap round his tail, for repair, they became such good friends, as the bear made Amends, Mickey said you are fair, a really nice bear.!
For now; this poem has come to the end.)
The Thief
Would you believe on a quiet Sunday afternoon,
An unseen thief is stalking my room.
He holds my memories in his hand,
Oh, I just don’t understand.
I want to revisit the kiss on the hill;
Was he blonde, blue eyed, what did he say that filled,
Filled my heart with hope and joy,
He has stolen the details of my first-loved boy.
When did we walk through those colored night lights,
Was it a fair, a town, a vacation sight?
Was it you or another, and what year was that?
The thief has my memory crumpled neath his hat.
Can I sing tomorrow what I sing today,
Please, oh, please don’t steal that away,
Would you believe on a quiet Sunday afternoon?
An unseen thief is stalking my room?
~A Place called The Edge~
We kept our heads up high, at the boundary of the universe
We Gave no thought, closing every feeling in a wooden box
Remaining firm on two principles, practice, and good will
Letting go-
-With the idea of free falling
-I traveled with the current of air
I broke into the mindset of your whispers...
Watching over the glow, in your eyes...
With disrupted ways you reform issues,
Becoming objective, in ways I need to follow
Life and its vanity are so unfair, A goddess re-birth
Through the needle eyes of mother earth
Within the flames, one rises to the edge of games
The phoenix call, withheld wisdom that we can't feel at all
As it cascaded into dreams we recognized
A place to visit,
When in distress, stepping on my own shoe
I walk the distance, falling into a stream of romance
A projectile performance, in an exotic trance
A new psychological pat was formed
Firm and fair, A monarch standing in my way
Beneath the fall, above the ledge,
The clouds swallow, every shadow left
Shattering every crimson sea,
Flying high with eternalness by my side
My sleepless days are aimless and carried out
Covered in ashes, with the vividness of the ocean.
Holding hands, at the edge of everything
Dangling by, as if we had a split personality
Standing on the edge, we count our steps
As we pace backwards, to relive a life without strife
I've been there, I am there!
Living on the edge of everything
:)
Retiring Cowboy
He hung up his bridle by his bed on the wall.
His rig is preserved on a stand by the stall.
His old Appaloosa has been turned out to graze.
As he sits in his rocker and dreams of old days.
For years he worked hard herding cattle all day.
He worked hard to earn a poor cowboy’s pay.
There were days he would rise barely bearing the pain.
He would climb in the saddle and hang on to the mane.
Starting out riding drag then flank and then swing.
Then point man a position he wanted more than anything.
The job was hard but it beat the rest.
It didn’t take long till he was the best.
He worked hard to work his way up to trail boss.
He was tough but fair a man no man would cross.
And his horse came to be his very best friend.
They stuck together through thick and through thin.
Hot summer days and winters so cold.
Misery torment and torture untold.
But when it was finally all said and done.
He would never have traded with anyone.
THE GREAT AMERICAN RACIST
I stand my ground and white is what is me
as fair a man as there could ever be
I'll not apologize to anyone
for what the world's dependent on
but love my own, for that's the way I see.
Excuses come from those who ever fail
or educated by their time in jail
and racist it may be
but it's the side of me
who stands by justice, in its final wail;
the die's been cast; and juries set the stage
and let out are the crazies from their cage;
while whites proclaim all guilt from high
and blacks can only live the lie
expecting things to change because of rage;
whose knife has cut the thread that's meant to bind
depriving all the love there is to find?
the greatest tragedy of all
is when our backs are to the wall
that's when our hate clouds every mind.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
THE GREAT AMERICAN RACIST
I stand my ground and white is what is me
as fair a man as there could ever be
I'll not apologize to anyone
for what the world's dependent on
but love my own, for that's the way I see.
Excuses come from those who ever fail
or educated by their time in jail
and racist it may be
but it's the side of me
who stands by justice, in its final wail;
the die's been cast; and juries set the stage
and let out are the crazies from their cage;
while whites proclaim all guilt from high
and others only live the lie
expecting things to change because of rage;
Whose knife has cut the thread once meant to bind
depriving all the love there is to find?
The greatest tragedy of all
is when our backs are to the wall--
the ending won't reveal, the truth we find.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
How exciting to walk down the midway
with all the crowds, the vendors to hear what they say.
Oh look to your left, it's all the games!
Many people playing them, all variety of names.
To our right are the many shows.
And in these days we know that just about anything goes.
Hey look! Should we ride the Ferris Wheel?
It's so high it's bound to give us quite a thrill!
Let's try all of the rides, they are so cool!
They even have one where you can ride a mule.
We'll have hotdogs, popcorn and cotton candy.
All the foods they have are always so dandy.
Yes, the County Fair is the fun place to go.
If you have the time and the money to blow!
For Unamed County Fair contest
There passed amid the crowded fair a lady
All clad in stately gown of em'rald green
With golden trim and diamonds all a-sparkle
It was, I say in truth, a comely scene
Her hair was walnut brown and deftly braided
Her eyes the bluest June I e'er ha' seen
Her face was white as ever summer daisy
As she walked amid the fair in em'rald green
I wended to the lady through the milling
And sought if I might carry of her gage
She chained me with ther fiery diamond necklace
And sought a worthy foe upon the stage
Her eyes passed o'er the sport with sharp disdaining
Said she, These roughened fellows all are mean
I seek a fitted match against my diamonds
To win a crown of honour for the green
At length, she spied the master of the quarter
The stoutest wight of Herefordshire, I ween
And though I had no hope against this venture
I'd do it for the woman clad in green
His quarterstaff was sure and fairly whistled
His arms were strong, as well his eyes were keen
Yet still I kept my feet upon the platform
And prayed them still remain for fair Athene
This lusty fight went on for half the hour
A goodly crowd collected for the see'n'
Then stepped the pretty damsel to the staff-ring
And saith, You fairly won the lass in green
Returning to India, with a prestigious Award,
From USA after a long period of three years.
Some friends in Bombay desired and insisted
That I should stay at Bombay for a few days.
They insisted I should throw a garden party
To celebrate the Award and to meet old buddies.
The Party was arranged in the garden of a friend
Who was from film industries, my best friend Ravi.
I left everything to Ravi for party arrangement
To inviting common poet friends and the menu.
It was a small party around twenty poet-friends
Who wrote in their vernacular lingo and English.
I started welcoming the friends who arrived in time
And Ravi was just about to give his introductory speech
A not so fair a lady all of a sudden rushed into the garden
Followed by a huge crowd in great rage and anger.
Everything was turned upside down, including the delicacies
And there was a great peace after the battle.
Ravi apologized; he invited her as she was a celebrity
In the *Bollywood and a fair song-writer and a dancer.
The reason why the angry crowd followed her was
A rumor has it; she declared that she will pose naked
If India won the World Cricket cup, being played in Bombay.
*Bombay Film Industries
+++++++
August 1, 2014
Form:Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest: Rumor Has It by Judy Konos
Wandering And Loafing thither-stunned I knew,
Scorching sweat-and a grim creature view,
Aye troubled and loaded vista of misery,
Swirling with abjectness seeming weary,
Nor they stand upright neither they sit calm,
Where they where ,never in placid nay in ominous realm,
Prepare for prepare on this abominable flame of war,
They freaked out through futile power,
Hence ‘tis a royal road through eke’ out but volatile,
Ye- grudgingly yet’ a way but vile,
What he must –must he be, but far and away,
Gibbet solemnly- but utter mere no word-to say,
Confined yea bind ah! Archaic men-at-arms,
You’d be among these, with no charm and warms,
Maunder surreal-y even in the day-and night watch,
Discern–castles in air while-lying on a patch,
Fair a mere simpleton creature, when dies,
Forgot at-once posthumously with no suspiration and sighs,
No well being and vivification where he dwelt and grew,
Aye beneath the troubled shallow’y spring under the yoke of fo,
Regime demand integrity, excelence and professionalism,
They say trinquality, solace, and humanism,
Tongue introverted, knees knocked, head stood,
Muster out as OAP, at hoar,man-made-wood.
A sweet baby girl born into society with beautiful parents, wealth and fame,
nannies, toys, a plethora of games.
When she was two, she was taken to the fair, placed on a unicorn, her momma was there. The carousel turned slowly, unicorn up and down, cameras flashing,she was not afraid, her picture to be placed on the society page.
Five years old she went to the fair, her nanny was with her, parents not there. Mother was in Paris, daddy in Japan, business trips as usual, her parents told her that they would be home soon, and they were sure she would understand. The carousel turned faster, the unicorn up and down, she laughed, she was happy, the unicorn would never let her down.
The years passed by, she drove to the fair, a brand new car from her parents who could not be there. The carousel turned faster, the unicorn went up and down, people who watched her were only a blur as she spun around.
One last time she went to the fair, a grown woman now, time to put childhood behind,
she wanted to ride the unicorn one last time.
Faster and faster the carousel turned, the unicorn going up and down. Oh how she wished that away they could fly, to a magical kingdom somewhere in the sky.
The sky turned black, people ran for their cars, the thunder roared, lightning struck all around.
A brilliant yellow light, a flash from the sky, the lights from the fair turned dark one by one, the people were stunned by the sight that they saw, the carousel was still turning
but going so slow.
The unicorn was missing, pulled from his pole, it's rider was gone, never to be seen anymore.
Game thou not with mine heart,
By thine stonewalling art,
That we might have a love fest and glee
Of a lasting wetdream of rue free,
A love that endures fine,
Like the bristlecone pine.
How thine yea made my lovesick soul gay,
And how I yearned to behold this day!
Ought we not explore our may even soon,
Or will thou so bereave me of this boon?
Nay, anon to the hostelry let's ooze,
For it's fairly a country mile to cruise.
Neither did I had a clue,
Nor was I given a cue,
That thou art soothing of a chive,
That savour my life as I thrive
With a sweet smell of bliss,
Now my soul soar in peace.
Shall I compare thee to the altair?
Blazing blissful beams on me so fair!
Thou art so fair a sunlight,
Giving a shine to my night.
How my hands yearn to feel thy sleek skin, so cutesy and fey,
Like the sunbird so glossy, causing a stare all the way!
Thou have dewy looks like a cat, so brave,
Thou art gentle and harmless like a dove,
Thou art the bird of paradise, so fine,
Thy body, finely curved like cypress vine,
Thou smell so sweet like a fragrant pine beyond wanders,
And thy fragrance, even sweeter than the moon flower's.
How soothing of a moment beatific smile of thine,
Like rain, washed away aches of a lovelorn heart of mine.
Though, the sky may wear barren cloud,
And fails to drops of rain afford,
For the sun and moon may wane
And fail to afford a shine,
The love from my pure heart,
Shall glow and never faint.
Soaring like a bald eagle.
Regal the idea but its just,
a crow carrying stale bread.
An Invisible phantom, fathoms.
As though you were dead
But in my defenselessness
Think Try, Try Again
A seamless definition of insanity
Slurring’s of drunken profanity
not even fair, a novel without a hero
Sorry, for the digressing Nero.
The fearful darkness unharnessed
Apologies of bare assessment,
tolerable for living in a basement.
But thoughts of being, accused of murder.
Waking with no deadeye.
Whys are redundant?
Starring in your own calamitous whodunit.
A sobering promise, of never to do that again,
while the grey is washed away by the black.
"On the day that you were born the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true, so they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold
And starlight in your eyes of blue" - part of the chorus from "Close to You" by the Carpenters
Throughout my teenage years of youth
when I was in and out
of puppy love with many guys,
I loved you most, no doubt.
Your hair so fair, a silky blonde;
your eyes blue like the sea.
I saw you dance with other girls.
You never danced with me.
In all that time, I’d think of you,
especially when the song
“Close to You” was playing.
It was for you I’d long.
Created by the angels,
the song sure got that right.
Yours was the face I saw
when I fell to sleep at night.
You lived not in my city,
but at least eight times a year,
at functions for youth of my church,
your voice I’d get to hear.
They chose you to give speeches.
You were smart and popular.
I wished I could attach myself
to you and ride your star!
But not a word to me
did I hear you ever say.
You saw me, yet you chose
from me to turn away.
I’ve learned you are successful,
but are you always kind?
You never were to me though
you were always on my mind.
Thou Death! To me no subtle thing
But of common visage, known,
Unto my days so well betrothed!
Yet in its clutches not Mercy's scythe
But cursed quill
Which no surcease permits-
And granting not that blessed peace
Does letless rage and torment, sting and prod
'Til e'en poor Tantalus would hold his lot
And not mine, for it, dare barter;
For Hades very countenance more fair a thing beheld
Than promised Dawns deferred,
Each alighting hope but a moment's sigh
By Hell's cruel breath consumed
'Til naught but cinders adorns my path
And Love, sweet corpse, its darksong warbles...