Best Fair Enough Poems
PORTRAIT OF SUSAN C.
If you glance at Susan
Three days in a row
same pose
same tilt of head
same diverted eyes
brows raised
firm round lips
She says something different
Each ardent flip
I suppose it’s the passionate red dress –
how it hangs in perfect V
only a suggestion of feminine property
how it further urges her tinted ivory skin
Oh! And the long sleeves –
how they paint those meaningful
finger slims
Yes!
The dress –
It quite overcomes
Well Susan is blond
Really blond –
long-hair-hanging blond –
It sweeps round her ears
To frame a coquettish-near smile
She’s fair enough for movie fame
Yet?
Take the expression away
And…well…
It’s back to the dress for a while
Oh there’s so much movement
In those hanging folds –
none the same –
So much suggestion
Even softness
satin flame
Ummm humm… hmmmm
To end though
The whole is T-Susan
The ever notorious tease –
the come-on
slight show of flesh
those white clear eyes
of kidney pool blue
Damn! lady!
Pity the poor sap
Runs into you
Dave Austin
The black side of a life betrayal and choked dreams
Cries of pain that are locked into their souls
Evil twistfate deals aches and screams
Inside darkened dungeons filled with peril and woe
In the trap, feels like stuck in of eternity madness
Hands are not chained but mind is unclear
Hidden away from the world today within darkness crying
Nightmares of life's perils strike deep irons hotly burns
Blowing with the wind, flying a hurricane
Shamelessly all trying to live from day to day
Frozen ice frosting bites cold deeds creeps inside scars
Slowly from the scrapyard of life's twisted metal crushed
They cried many tear, tears of hope - wanted life to last
But life was not fair enough as the remains lay deeply covered
Unraveling out savagery of an animal cold cutting steel beast cursed
Piercing howls forgiving the past in order to be redeemed blessed
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid and
Anne-Lise Andresen :) - 20.01.2015 -
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I wonder, myself whom I venerate
the voice of my heart if loud fair enough!
the hive of my life I strive to relate
aspire to unleash my wonders, seems tough.
To craft a soul of light, creed of the core
the quest for mines of gems never shall end
the harsh thrusts I've learned not to deplore
for every stance there shall be a firm stand.
Pearly prints along your path, your voice carve
sound sounds are seized and unforgettable
medallions feeding souls to never starve
the bliss is a blessing increasable.
Sowing abiding beauty has no price
Unforgettable seeds reaped by the wise.
June 27th, 2018
I stopped for a cup at the local all-nighter
I'm a regular there. I'm the "poetry writer".
You'll always find the occasional hack,
The delinquents, the addicts, that hang in the back.
A drifter, a grifter, disenchanted and surly
All nameless faces, except the waitress named Shirley
I throw her a line, she throws me a sign
Our usual "Hi, how are you?"
Then step to the bar, put a ten in her jar,
She's divorced and the mother of two.
She looks out of place with her ribbons and lace
She's polite, friendly and kind
But make no mistake, she bites like a snake
With a switchblade tongue, razor fine.
They're busy tonight and I need to write
She brings my black coffee to go
Says, "I'll give you this, you give me a kiss
And that will be all that you owe."
A kiss on the lips for ten dollar tips
That sounds fair enough to me
Besides, she's pretty, got big titties
And gives me my coffee for free.
Daniel Turner
Thus, we harken to its windblown plea
Its whisperings of revelry
Of cornucopian delight
As pumpkins gather in a crowd
Soft music plays a bit too loud
Masked children dance into the night
Of teddy bears just won, now lost
Of fingers touched by moonlit frost
Of cotton candy, sticky sweet
First kisses stolen on Ferris Wheels
Silver clouds on cornstalk fields
Corn liquor sipped, a hard-earned treat
Thus, we harken to its windblown plea
To join in Fall’s windblown revelry
We emigrated from England to Rhodesia, I was just
Seven when I began grade two,
My wonderful father always there if I wanted a
Cuddle or a good old boo-hoo,
My English still rocky as I was mostly
Greek speaking,
When I came home with a story of strange
And mistakable reading,
O daddy I uncountably sobbed, I just
Don’t understand,
Why at school today in my class all the
Children just laughed,
My teacher asked, who will tell me what
We have learnt today,
I put up my hand, Mrs Bell, I said proudly, we learnt
About a dairy, and a mouse called Molay
My father laughed, tousled my hair,
My dear cheeky dolly,
Your mouse is Molly and your dairy is a diary
No, i said still tears streaming down,
My face, it was about Molay and a dairy,
Fair enough my Greek- English young lady,
Let us write in your diary about Molay and the dairy.
A TRUE STORY WHICH I NEVER LIVED DOWN
There’s a fairy in my garden,
Her voice is rather rough
And when I asked her for her name
She answered, “Fairy Nuff.”
“That’s fair enough,” was my reply,
“It seems to suit you well.”
“Oh no,” she said “I’m not like that,
I’m under someone’s spell.
I flirted with a Fairy Prince
On last year’s Halloween,
And just as luck would have it
I upset the Fairy Queen.
She said that I’m not Goody Nuff
And this of course is true,
For she is really rather posh
And very well-to-do.
The Fairy Queen just waved her wand
And said she’d had enough,
How dare I try to steal her son!
So now I’m Fairy Gruff.
My voice was always crystal clear
And I could sing so well
But now I croak pathetically,
A cracked and worn-out bell.
Well fancy that, just look who’s here,
My very handsome Prince!
We met at your Mum’s party
And I haven’t seen you since.
Oh yes, my voice! That’s all her fault,
Her spells are very good,
She thinks I want to win your heart
And I would do if I could.
You’ve really set my wings on fire
With love and admiration
But your Mother has the final word,
You’re way above my station.
You like me, did I hear you say,
You care for me as well?
Then prove yourself my Fairy Prince
And break your Mother’s spell.
Yes of course, I’ll stand quite still
And close my eyes real tight
And when I’m Fairy Nuff again,
We’ll set the world alight.
Your Mother doesn’t frighten me,
She’s really not that mean,
We’ll let the strength of our regard
Placate the Fairy Queen.
We know that love can conquer all,
She must have heard that said
So when we seek her blessing
It’s sure that we will wed.”
Once more my garden’s empty
Except for flowers and stuff,
And it’s very quiet and peaceful
But I think that’s fair enough.
The black side of a life betrayal and choked dreams
Cries of pain that are locked into their souls
Evil twistfate deals aches and screams
Inside darkened dungeons filled with peril and woe
In the trap, feels like stuck in of eternity madness
Hands are not chained but mind is unclear
Hidden away from the world today within darkness crying
Nightmares of life's perils strike deep irons hotly burns
Blowing with the wind, flying a hurricane
Shamelessly all trying to live from day to day
Frozen ice frosting bites cold deeds creeps inside scars
Slowly from the scrapyard of life's twisted metal crushed
They cried many tear, tears of hope - wanted life to last
But life was not fair enough as the remains lay deeply covered
Unraveling out savagery of an animal cold cutting steel beast cursed
Piercing howls forgiving the past in order to be redeemed blessed
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid and Anne-Lise Andresen :) - 20.01.2015 -
William Shakespeare is my favourate poet!
It does not need a thousand poems, dear,
to prove that William Shakespeare
is a scintillating poet, nor does it require
him to write so many sonnets or tire
His ambidextrous pen and his gifted wrist
writing romantic ballads with a twist
in the end – his poems vivifies the air,
especially when his poetry is about despair.
William Shakespeare is my favourate poet of all days;
I like how he writes, his styles and his ways;
his poems written with words embellished,
with his thoughts and his ideas dearly wished –
His imagery is pure, his emotions are raw,
a tale of poems that always make my day so braw;
as fair enough twice the generosity of the sea,
Sterling I say, to make him my favourate poet be;
From how he wrote ‘Shall I compare thee. . .’
To how he structured his poem ‘Soliloquy’,
And won people’s hearts with ‘Let me not to the marriage of True minds’,
When he said, I quote: ‘Which alters when alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no!’
William Shakespeare, this poet was such a pro –
He owed the world definitions of his words of charm,
which always but so puzzled the mind though meant no harm.
His antique English inspired and fascinated me to read his work,
His sonnets, full of metaphors and similes that evermore but had his back –
Tell you what, no poet can write close to how Shakespeare ever wrote,
For the master of poetry ever lived and died, and vanished with a quote.
That is, inter alia, why William Shakespeare is my favourate poet!
Have grocery stores become delivery systems?
Bearing insidious alterations in organ function?
I asked my local grocer-
"Please show me the labelling of GMO products you carry"
His reply-
"I'm not responsible for the content you consume"
My reply-
"Fair enough, who is"
His reply-
"Way above my pay grade, buddy"
My reply-
"Then your response is...buyer beware?"
His reply-
"Your words, not mine"
From that moment I decided, food
....is the new wild west
Awake in dark shade
You tried to walk on your call
Fearful dominate
You live unsteady
Well, life lessons full of pain
You tried to survive
You said you cannot
We have a quota of each
God is fair enough
You cry on your pray
Demanding on happiness
See what you have got
We forgot the thanks
We remember the ache
Selfishness of human
Quality not quantity
What about equality?
Fair enough
Bring me reality, spare the insanity; preening and vanity
Do.! Its purpose I’d rather gather not
Twaddle and flatter; For ..!!
Really I’m open of view.’ I don’t want TV Docs
I want info that rocks’
Can I see some groundbreaking news?
Not acres of smiles, subterfuge and all wiles
I’d really like fair enough news,
It’s all panstick and slapstick and soundbites
And asterisks’ not to mention a grimness
That’s part of the brew, it seems the
Devil’s own cauldron is stirred to a fault
On the screens that are owned by a few
Do you think there might be?
Something better to see,
Have you ever thought
That there could be? an antidote to suggestion
Of gloomy dimensions, surely
It might just so be?
Not just medics with millions
With their bosses owning zillions
Who paid for their very degree?
Remember GMO in your food from Monsanto
But I guess; that’s already old
News … a week’s not a long time in your view; or maybe mine?
But in some circles, it’s a vital in-tu; intuition.. Revision in the dark
Winter tradition' ya’ know maybe it’s all doctored views?
Hey no smiling or laughing or back slapping,
Singing or dancing.
Unless you are in on the ruse.
©Joe Maverick 30-1-2022
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The draper shop in Drumshanbo town was busy on the day
The girls were moving bales of cloth and packing shelves away
Are you allowed to dance tonight Jackie's hall we all can sway
It's a ceili Band of Shan-a-han their good to dance and play
-
Dadddy's working late the pit and Sunday mass must go
The night before this dance you talk a condition don't you know
I will my mother announce to her and mammy will promote
My dress is paid and shelf a laid I'll take now then she wrote
Home that evening gay and trip the thatch upon the hill
Daddy home descends the thrown and says no way you will
Sad and cry by tears to sill and wipe them with the net
A car a pilot steps on out and walks the lane we met
American Uniform proud and boast a cousin from the states
Oh ! Daddy dear please come come here I beg it's not too late
Well fair enough a chaparone took, be home by midnight moon
Oh ! Daddy dear I love you here and Mammy stirred the spoon
Into the dance a pride so strong all girls with jaws a dropp
A stunning man she said at hand an accent slightly lopped
I know that day my mother say one day I'll marry him
But Daddy knows as cousins go not possible a sin
(Snippet of a story involving my mother in 1940s -West of Ireland)
God alone is the all there is
which means that we do not exist
in as a separate ego
for our essence is a bliss mist
ego is but an interface
a tool to navigate earth life
know we are not this body-mind
useless then is struggle and strife
how may we know this to be true
is the question true seekers ask
unless we see God in plain sight
we cannot shed off ego’s mask
fair enough, so let us begin
melding fickle mind with the heart
befriending thought rested silence
being the way God-search we start
unfed by thought ego recedes
heart’s intent invokes magnetism
as polarities meet and greet
bliss cascades in mind-body prism
bliss in permanence the new norm
with eye mindful and touch gentle
our consciousness becomes vast space
where cave of heart is God’s temple
to see God, first ego must die
in timeless time we see His face
we are as is He, living light
His love holds us in close embrace