Best Favorites Poems
Faved PoetrySoup poems, I've many a favorite
Are such a treasure trove of Joy
Each one so exquisite
I've many, but imagine, I'll have many, many more
I wish they could be bound in books
Purchased through a PS store!
Leaves of golden artistry of poets that I love
A little bit of heaven on earth
Like sunshine from above
I thought to name these poets, that have written
On my heart, but that would take
Me quite some time,
I don't know where to start!
Suffice to say, I'm blessed, I love this precious group
What treasure troves of blessings
These poems on PoetrySoup
Keep shining, keep on writing, your voices like a song
The aroma of sweet fragrance
Gently stirring all day long
For each new poem that's written, a gem within the sea
A gift of golden treasure is your
Precious poetry
My image shared is just a 'dream' book of sorts, an
idea of how it may be easy for PS to create a personalized
book of our favorite file poems from our dear PS poets.
My mother had an old empty scrapbook I inherited,
I applied the gold lettering just for an example.
Maybe Team Poetry could brainstorm an idea of this
sort, I think it would be wonderful. Anyway, just a thought.
<3
So many more. Just a sampling of favorites, per contest instructions.
For each poet I have included a sampling of titles in parentheses.
THREE OF MY FAVORITES
Gershon Wolf
Gershon lands me in stitches.
In his wise and funny hands,
I can’t help but smile or laugh.
A grin happens, belly twitches.
(Sex Sells, War is Hell; Tingles, Twitches, Creaks;
Scant Solace in the Solstice, Old Bessie)
Caron Krutsinger
Caron carries me to Wonderland.
Her muse and faeries’ mischievous.
Earthbound - school, kids and pets.
Her quaint stories, written offhand.
(Sleeping Elfin Baby, Santa Puppy Begs for Bones,
Unicorn with the Rainbow Tail, Fluffy Fat Robin)
Evelyn Judy Buehler
Evelyn’s poems’ immersed in hues.
An imagistic touch of stirring magic.
God will gift her with eternal colors -
Not one of them, she will refuse.
(Clashing Colors, Scarlet Noon, Green Door, Moonlight Blue)
12/30/2022
Who is your best PS poet or poetess Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Blueberries, balckberries,
berries galore,
new mown grass smell
wafting through an open door,
bird and squirrel
who come to visit me,
or Coltrane jazz
playing warm and free.
When you get to be my age,
a hundred little things
become favorites you see ...
each moment precious and sweet,
every smile a warm treat.
for farah chamma contest "My Favorite Things"
I like cute dogs, poofy dogs, goofy dogs,
Wiggly Giggly Barking dogs, quiet dogs too,
Smart dogs, silly dogs, crazy dogs, lazy dogs,
Large agressive guarding dogs,
Those are just a few,
I enjoy helpful dogs, playful dogs, bashful dogs,
Hyperactive athlete dogs,
How about you?
How about birds, do you like birds?
Fat birds, slender birds,
Small flutery skittish birds,
Exotic birds too?
Long legged birds, short legged birds,
pink birds, white birds,
250 pound birds (just the ostrich, mind you...)
Feathery birds, Arctic Birds,
Tropic Birds, Desert Birds,
Rodent-eating raptor birds,
wait, I'm not through,
I know, you like bugs!
Dull bugs, colorful bugs,
Icky Creepy crawly bugs,
Biting bugs too,
Flying bugs, walking bugs,
Running bugs, jumping bugs,
Maggot-Bearing Bullimic Bugs,
Those are just a few,
Stinky bugs, Slimy bugs,
Aphid eating ladybugs,
Luminescent Phosphorescent Glowing bugs too!
I love them all
Big and small,
Animals are off the wall,
But don't trip
Just be hip,
Dont be givin' me no lip,
Animals are here for a purpose,
They have prodigiously covered the earths surface,
They are what we see what we learn, what we love, what we hate,
Some can be oh so meddlesome, but they have been helpful as of late,
Helping us to plow our fields, sniff out crooks, give us food,
Fulfill other necessities, so please let us not be rude,
Lets give these critters their credit due,
To animals everywhere, we love you!!
(You may say "no", but trust me, you do..)
I whisper
To my grandchildren;
“you are my favorite”
“don’t tell the others”.
They chuckle
knowing it is true.
John G. Lawless
©8/25/2022
Playing favorites
In bed with the enemy.
Body language
speaks volumes.
you meander over
like...
"eeny meenie jipsaleenie"
to the one you
love the best.
Plop down,
like...
"ooh ahh ambaleenie"
somebody
just
got chosen
like...
"Atchie patchie goom a ratchi"
I Love You!
All the top choices
feel dejected.
Just knew;
That this person
would have surely
acknowledged them
first.
I mean, It’s a Political
gathering,
not a gay singles bar.
Anyway, you know, whom got
picked by you know who.?
Disgusting ill Goat.
just ignored me,
humph!
Clutches proposal...
"Well I Never" !
All hopeful attendee's
pretended that...
they could over look,
being over looked,
get over it!
Obviously, he is...
In bed with the enemy.
Body language
speaks volumes.
Texas-style juicy brisket
grilled, smoked, keep meat moist.
Amazing Ribs and baked beans.
Potato salad
Ice cold beer and pop
drinks of choice
Yum!
6/28/2022
7/5/7/5/5/3/1
Whats Cooking On The Grill This Summer Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: M. L. Kiser
hollands favorites
tulips on my window sill
glorifying god
Burgers and fries are the best
shrimp with lemon zest.
Ribs smoked over hickory wood
fast food is so good.
Foot long coney dog
felt like a hog.
Hungry
05-06-11
Entered in Gwendolyn Rix"Fast food Epulaeryu"contest
Part I
Three TV shows stick in my mind.
Specific memories are hard to find.
There once was a series, long ago.
I would always cry at the end of the show.
“I Remember Mama” was the program's name.
Their family stories set my heart aflame.
Love's influence stays strong in my soul.
Family ties remain love's precious goal.
Part II
Jack La Lane was a “family name.”
It was not a drama or a prize-winning game.
After school each day for many years,
Mother and I exercised to his cheers.
Healthy eating and exercise,
He daily did enthusiastically advise.
Scrunching the face and tensing the mouth
Would keep the sags from going south.
Daily healthful lessons and time with mom,
Soothed my fears; I felt safe and calm.
Those pleasant memories remain to this day.
Jack La Lane helped my family play.
Part III
“Today's Show” co-anchored by Barbara Walters,
Before “Women's Libbers’ and bra-less halters.
Set a successful example for all to see.
Reporting with kindness and harmony.
Her interviews were thoughtful; guests at ease.
I would run home from school, the moments to seize.
She modeled womanhood by success.
Serenely she brought me through personal distress.
My life is quite different than hers ever would be.
She remains a part of my childhood history.
Thoughtful of others, from her, example,
I learned to be strong in a world that is hostile.
Three favorites each different, somehow, the same,
All made an impact upon my life's game.
Sincerity of heart was the common thread.
Caring for others, like them, did in my heart embed.
© July 20, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Favorite Television Show/Episode Remembered
Sponsored by: Shani Fassbender
Most of my classes suck (by that I mean they’re difficult). English is ok - especially the writing. I’d never want to major in English Literature though. It’s one of the hardest majors at Yale. It may be harder than Pre-med. They make it hard to discourage people from choosing it. If you don’t love literature, don’t live and breathe books and writing, you’ll *never* navigate the major.
Despite English being her third language, Leong is an excellent proofreader (which I need).
“Put an emoji in there,” Leong recommended, “it’ll show you’re chill and not panicking.”
“No emojis! I said, shocked, “This is supposed to be professional.” Still, every time I submit a draft the professor says it’s good (an “A”) and I’m done.
Sir Paul McCartney is at Yale today, talking about a book he wrote, I think. They’re piping his music all over campus. I don’t have time to see him, but his “Ram” album is one of my all-time favorites. I know people have their favorite Beatle, but I think Paul has, by far, the most lyrical solo career.
Lisa and I just arrived at the fitness center (in the residence basement) we’re the only three there. Peter (my BF) got there ahead of us, about 30 minutes ago. He’s been working out on one of the weight machines. He’s tall and fit, with black-almost blue hair and a new beard. Sweaty and shirtless, he’s a take-your-breath-away spectacle. The sight of him jangled up and down my libido. I felt myself groan inwardly. “Put on a shirt!” I said.
He comes over to where I’ve taken a seat. The sun is coming in at an angle which reveals that the air between us is filled with dust motes but now he looks like he’s a model standing in a spotlight. I just look at him and smile wickedly. “Why,” he says, getting very close.
“Because you’re distracting!” I answer laughing, as I push him away, “and I have a TON of reading to do.”
I like to read while I’m walking on the treadmill. He tries to nuzzle me as I step up. “Look,” I say, “If I can finish my reading (~200 pages) by dinner, I‘ll have something special for you.”
“Like what?” he asks, smiling and suddenly interested.
“Something for you to look back on when you’re a very old man.” I whisper.
“What are we standing around for?!” He demands, putting my chemistry book and water bottle on the treadmill and stepping away to slip on his t-shirt.
The teacher gave gifts to those who were behaving.
Many other students pretended to behave
For about two seconds
Then they got loud, unruly, and disrespectful.
They began screaming at her
They were yelling about unfairness
They yelled that she had favorites.
They threw things at her head.
She did have favorites.
The children whose parents taught them respect
The children who behaved
The children who had home-schooling
Who can blame her?
staples
hanging file folders gawk
as we skirt around
in friendly conversation
what’s apparent in you voice everyday
taunting me with the thought of someone else in your arms
Each Passing Day I see my Father More
ice melts
as this wandering dissention
gains the resemblance
of aging clumsily
every morning
hairs lost speckle my pillow,
bathroom sink, and counter
deftly comb my hair to the side with a smirk
A Bird Softly Chirps Outside My Bedroom Window 6:34 am
so spring’s started
sun’s begun
to bring some warmth
to the past four days of
cold and snow
measured in increments
of feet
still clinging to
the trees
desperate for life
shoes growing tired of wet clinging sand
3/14/01
Mid-Spring Dreams
Rain has gone
Leaving the first patches
Of awakening grass
Awkward as our love
On this rainy night
You silently debate the
presumed would
Forever be
Static in the Air
Life’s transformed to stress
Scribbled poetry’s a mess
Passion redirected into sporadic fits of rage
Fretting the former ease of unblemished page
Candy
Unanticipated lapses
Midnight whispers
Lead to painstaking
Goodbyes
Hearts breaking
Only to erupt again with love
Our conversation’s revived
As a kid, I loved reading “Nancy Drew” and “Trixie Belden” mysteries. As a teen I couldn’t ingest enough mythology; dragons, dwarves, elves, gnomes, centaurs and fairies were pure gold for my cache of thrills. As a young woman, Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie novels and terrors of Stephen King’s nightmares, owned my time and now biographies, philosophy, poetry and history crowd my personal library with one difference…since “Harry Potter” moved in with his friends; I revisit my inner child for respite.
Stories abound in
Nature; each leaf reveals one
As it, rides the wind.
When autumn leaves on tree branches disappear
And chilly winds spoil outdoor fun
The warmth of a fireplace beckons me to draw near
That’s winter to me.
When snowflakes blanket streets with a hush,
And snowplows, cars, shovels and rubber soles
Leave tracks and generate dirty slush
That’s winter to me.
When mercury drops bitter cold penetrates my bones
And I act to prevent colds, flu, and frozen water pipes,
My delight is in hot tea rather than ice cream cones
That’s winter to me.
When heavy coats, boots, gloves, scarves, hats,
Earmuffs, knits, mitts, sweaters, and wool gear
Make me feel like I’m hauling a bundle of baseball bats
That’s winter to me.
When smoke oozes from my nose and mouth
Crisp air makes lips chap, teeth rattle, fingertips numb,
Desire for warmer weather make me head south
That’s winter to me.
When days are short and nights too long
And Christmas celebrations have waxed and waned,
My prayers for spring to hurry up don’t seem wrong
That’s winter to me.