Best Fine Looking Poems
I guess I’m more accustomed to the modern sting these days;
the one that comes by e-mail or the phone.
They might hurt the pocket with the modern scamming ways -
but Mother Nature’s stings bite to the bone.
I’m talking ‘bout a paper wasp,
or the angriest of bull-ant;
perhaps a hornet or a bee,
and that Queensland stinging plant.
I could be in the scrub casting out a fishing line,
or relaxed while I stand beside a tree
without a thought, but ignorant to a home that isn’t mine,
and its residents who start attacking me.
I’m talking ‘bout assertive spiders;
that little blighter jumping jack.
Damn mosquitoes and march flies,
and scorpions sometimes attack.
It may be every few years, but there does come a time,
when backyards need a bit of cleaning out,
so there will be disturbance that is not a pantomime,
and lackadaisical is not what it’s about.
I’m talking ‘bout stinging nettle,
or prickly pear annoying hairs.
The European Wasp and chiggers,
and white-tail spider toxin scares.
When fishing in an estuary; the beach or in a bay,
you never know what bounty it can bring.
You’ll always have a fighting fish trying to get away,
and some of them can give a nasty sting.
I’m talking ‘bout butterfly gurnard;
the torture of a sand flathead spike.
Feeling of pain after sunset,
and a victim when biting midges strike.
Some might be quite obtrusive - and some a fine-looking thing,
but they all come with a warning - I’m talking ‘bout the sting.
Categories:
fine looking, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Salt
Cellar by cellar on the cupboard shelf
I fell for you and crave you for myself
You look handsome in your sparkling glass pot
I imagine you'd be tasty and hot.
It'd be lovely to sprinkle together,
There for each other through stormy weather
I'm extremely salty, guess you'd agree
That if we marry, companions we'd be.
Pepper
You're a fine looking lass, I love you lots
Made for each other in matching glass pots
So fine and lovely, in your gown of white,
Would you marry me and become my wife.
Seasoning forever, to have and hold,
My darling will you wear my ring of gold
We'll grow older together tenderly
A match made in Eden are you and me.
Salt and Pepper
And so the wedding for them went ahead
A glorious day it has to be said
Pepper was proud of the bride at his side
Salt wore a smile and a gleam in her eyes.
Salt never stopped sneezing throughout their lives
Yet never complained, she sensed it unwise
Her salty kisses made Pepper’s lips sore
He never confessed, just kissed evermore.
Categories:
fine looking, fantasy, humor, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Awa' oan the Firth of Forth,
high oan the famous brig',
a laboring lad toils tirelessly
in the cauld and bitter wind.
Awa' aff the river shore,
a braw lassie waits for him,
scourin' and roastin' tatties
in a bonny wee but and ben.
The carls would hae him drinkin',
The cummers would pay him 'ahind the door,
but he oany has wan thing oan his mind
and she's awa' aff the river shore.
*Translation*
Away on the Firth of Forth,
high on the famous bridge,
a laboring lad toils tirelessly
in the cold and bitter wind.
Away off the river shore,
a braw lassie waits for him,
scouring and roasting tatties
in a bonny wee but and ben.
The carls would have him drinking,
the cummers would pay him behind the door,
but he only has one thing on his mind
and she's away off the river shore.
Glossary of terms:
* the Firth of Forth is the estuary of the River Forth in Scotland
braw means fine looking
tatties are potatoes
bonny means pretty or handsome
a but and ben is a modest two room cottage consisting of a kitchen and a main room
a carl is a laboring man
a cummer is a woman of questionable moral character
to pay behind the door is to engage in sexual activity as a form of 'payment' for favors, services, or goods.
Categories:
fine looking, love, places, song-river,
Form:
Lyric
I dreamt of my Father whom passed 3 years ago,
as I awoke , he was standing with his beige silk business slacks on
In truth, it may have been not a dream but his ghost telling me something ..
he was a fine looking man and this time with no illness,
~ yet I remember his sweater ~
over 15 years the last time I saw my Father , he called to tell me Grandma passed"
His beautiful Mother, and he wanted me present at her Funeral processions.
I was important to him and my Grandmother , as my children were too.
His heart was broken as we all are not exempt from pain in our lives..
So his presence was much different then the last visit alive.
~ yet I remember his sweater ~
he was here to tell me something
his face beautiful and luminance with a certain serenity
he appeared just before I awoke in full form
The beige pants, nice shoes, Italian, a white shirt underneath that sweater
I remember the sweater being of a fine make, cashmere and purple..
I never wanted my Fathers money when he passed , just a sweater , his scent
being refused to grieve with my siblings and blood , refused any little thing of his
~ yet I remember his sweater ~
I love you too Dad , Your youngest girl.
Categories:
fine looking, absence, dad, death, father
Form:
Narrative
Your teacher always said in math,
You wasn't very bright,
As when you did your adding up,
You never got it right.
And though it appears so very sad,
Twas teacher didn't know how to add,
After all these years, to your delight,
It's evident you are quite bright,
You see your math was always right,
For it happens just to be,
That if you combine a loverly Lisa,
With one fine looking fella,
The product is an angel,
A precious gift called Ella,
So the moral of this story,
And it was always meant to be,
Is that teacher was so very wrong,
As one and one makes three.
Categories:
fine looking, birth, celebration, child, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Dame Judy Dench
Loves to fish for Tench
When she fixes her motor
She uses a wrench
If she’s feeling tired she sits down on a bench,
DJD is polylingual;
Her favourite language is French,
When she has a pooh in the morning
It causes a stench
DJD is a strong woman,
When Germans talk about her they call her ‘mensch’,
If she gets excited
Her buttocks they clench
When DJD gets dehydrated
Her thirst she will quench,
She is a fine looking woman,
But never call her a wench,
DJD did military service
She learnt to dig a slit trench,
She's into prehistory
And loves to visit Stonehenge,
DJD don't take no -
If she is dissed she'll get her revenge
She is super organised
When she does her filing she uses a big hole punch
If she gets hungry mid morning
She pauses for brunch,
If Helen Mirren calls round they go out for lunch,
DJD is very intuitive
and likes to follow a hunch,
Her off shore investments
Protected her from the credit crunch,
She's a feisty lady -
A reporter asked if 'she had a carer'
Well he got a bunch
Of fives from this diva
But to her friends she is staunch,
Even Harvey Weinstein - DJD protected his paunch,
Said she had a tat of his name on her bum
Cos her career he relaunched
With Victoria and Albert -
She never gives an inch
If Bond is stuck in a ditch
She pulls him out with a winch,
She takes on all the bad guys,
You never see her flinch,
When delivering a soliloquy
She makes it look like a cinch
She should be world president,
Donald J Trump would be the first one she would lynch!
Categories:
fine looking, england, hero, hip hop,
Form:
Light Verse
More than two years it be since me old dad had to fly. I miss him you know, he was
my best friend. I miss the twinkle in his Scottish,Irish,American eyes, a kind and
caring Gent was he. Times there are when I sit on the porch and talk to him, like he
was there next to me. If anyone was to hear they'd think a loony man I be, guess I
wouldn't disagree. At the the age of three orphaned was he, placed in the
orphanage with two of his four brothers. Cruel treatment he did receive, still had the
scars to witness the abuse they dealt him, undeserved though it be. Never did
break him, stubborn he was, passed down by his anstery, can say the same for me.
Great depression was on, none could afford another mouth to feed. At the age of
fourteen put out on the street , all because he refused to stay with a farmer who
wouldn't let him finish school. All the man wanted was for dad to be his tool. A little
help from a friend and some kindly Gents, a sleeping room he did get. Worked three
jobs finished high school, I told you stubborn he be. Old Uncle Sam drafted him then,
a soldier they needed him to be. Only five nine one hundred thirty five he was
soakin wet. Balck hair, hazel eyes, a fine looking lad was he. Thirty cal. machine
gunner he was assigned, to everyone's surprise. Little man was he, but the heart of
a lion he did have. From the shores of France to Berlin he did fight. Bronze star for
valor, Holocaust memorial award, battle for Atlantic,European theater,Seinne river
crossing, Rhine river crossing, battle of the buldge, army of occupation, all these
medals he did receive. I know if they'd asked him do you want to fight a war? No
thanks he would have said, for a peaceful man I be. The day they placed him in the
ground, amist his World War II brothers, the sky was crying, and so was I. Taps for
him they did blow, gun salute. Folded the flag and gave it to my mom, in her eyes I
could see that her world had come to an end. Such pain in my heart, I just wanted to and flee. Instead I stubbornly stood there, to honor the memory of my dad.
In Loving memory of my dad: W. Jack Ross : 1924-2009: I still miss him.
Categories:
fine looking, fatherdad, world, age, old,
Form:
Free verse
I’ve seen black sheep set in Pongola grass
Within pallid seas, differed,
Like black buttons on a white cotton suit;
Sheep are color blind.
A bee is fine-looking,
But there’s fire in its ass.
Can the wild goat trust
The adder with inviting pelt?
Did Emmitt Till paint changes
With his blood in cotton picking towns;
The blood that called from Mississippi,
Like Abel’s blood calling from the ground.
Death had a voice, a voice in the wind,
The wind that walked north-west
And brought a microscope
For John Public to see
How inferior to dogs we are.
As a child, I played
Ring-around-the-roses
Until I saw “Rosewood”
And heard the drums
Beaten like Rodney King,
And the heartbeat of Cojoe
And Nanny racing
Towards the mountain of the devil,
To escape the cotton fields.
The drums are always talking.
The old south is alive and kicking high.
This is no Elvis tale. Exhume the body,
See with your own eyeballs.
No DNA can confirm
That Jim Crow is dead.
Jim Crow has a roost on Fox News.
He’s always crowing,
Whipped up by the “boy”
In the WHITE house.
How much can you see
If you look from the outside?
I’ve seen it even in REM sleep,
Even when I dream of roasted breadfruit,
Jockato in coconut milk, and Chinese geisha;
Willie Lynch is a man breathing
The smog-filled air in Washington.
In 1955, Money was the root of the evil,
And ’68 Memphis was the cross
Of the sacrificial lamb,
But these days men are lynched
In broad day light.
String up, dangling
Like papa's khakis floating
In breeze walking the orange glen.
All eyes should see our opinion of them.
Today we’re civilize,
And Catholicism is not voodoo.
We no longer use rope,
Our tongues do a fine job.
Like Mutabaruka,
I have no color problem;
Everything is black to me,
As black as Sarah’s view of the motherland
(It’s not too vital for her to learn).
If blue skies
Cried acid,
And wash the dark color
From this portrait,
I would still be black,
As black as tar.
It’s in my blood.
Categories:
fine looking, death, education, history, hope,
Form:
Free verse
I DODGED A BULLET
I dodged a bullet two weeks ago
In that shopping mall
A bullet, caramel skinned; moisturized
That almost left a sister’s chest
Spurting red spots everywhere
I dodged this fine looking bullet
That went three sixty degrees
Around my waistline
I sang praises, I almost rocked that Mic
Check check
I dodged a bullet…
Yes! I dodged a fine one
Six feet two inches; got me high
Fine smelling cologne, I took a whiff
Six packs front layered;
I scrolled through, page after page
In my fantasy
Oh my!
I dodged it sister; yes I dodged a bullet in hours
It challenged my hormones
They militated against my sense of reasoning
I gave a silent scream for help
My eyes coated in surprise
My hands, still…
My prize, a bullet?
That bullet almost shot through me
Between Africa and Jamaica
It's warmth sent me down that sofa
Attention! my twin babies saluted
That voice, those eyes
A combination of soul and jazz soothing the soul
Soft and inviting, tempting;
Sent shivers down my spine
They slung a leash around me
But I had to dodge that bullet
On the last five days before New Year's Eve
Neofloetry (c)2013.
Categories:
fine looking, christmas, december, emotions, for
Form:
Ekphrasis
There now,
I've said it, love
So few
come and don't go
Will you, won't you
be the one I'll always know
Lyrics from the song, "Look After You"
by The Fray
It was just another ordinary day,
nothing special was going on
I was sunbathing on a park bench at the beach,
just summering my life away
Watching the birds,
feeling the cool spray of the ocean's kiss
If I had to check out early,
drinking fruit smoothies
and listening to some Al Jarreau
ain't such a bad way to go
Women walking past
looking fine, looking tan
Waving and smiling at this happy-go-lucky bohemian man
So many searching ... so few available
How will you know when they're the right one,
will you know because your friend told you so
So many available ... so few measure up
Aren't you tired of taking home strays;
laying down getting fleas, ain't you had enough
If you got to know me,
maybe ... possibly ...
there might be
enough compatibility
We'll see
Because there are so many searching ... so few available
Maybe it ain't love that you're really looking for
So many are available ... but so few measure up
Maybe love is optional with a good prenup
The summer days are winding down,
with only so few more opportunities
Now don't take too long looking ladies,
this might be the last time I'm single and free
Categories:
fine looking, adventure, beach, love, summer,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
See that rich man
begging on the telly
He’s made your financial future toast,
now he also wants your
cash reserve preserve jelly
Do you believe the rich man,
who’s pleading real con-science nice,
flashing teeth pearly white as rice?
If you do,
then reach down in your pockets
and dollar up
Do it! Reach deep down and don’t think twice
Pay his penthouse suite price
Help that rich man
get on his bankrupt feet again
Donate to his favorite charitable cause:
Me-Me and Me Too
Them are three fine looking triplets ...
you know you gotta help buy
them trust fund babies some shoes
Now that rich man prefer the dollars,
but he’ll accept coins too ...
them that got good silver jingle
And any plastic alms given,
will be a credit to your people
Get a Trump card: Joker gift scrutiny free
But, it won’t be accredited to your tax relief
Good grief!
Somebody help that rich man,
strutting down the street,
hailing his chauffeured limo Caddy
Who’s gon help pay his taxi fare?
That man needs more
than just spit bubbles in the air
Help that rich man,
whose investors are down
on his speculating luck
He needs you
to reach deep down into your purse pain,
and dollar up
He says, go tell your husband or boyfriend,
to reach deep, deep down
into their bleeding green leather grain,
and dollar up
Give it all up ... until the rich man
says he’s had enough
Plenty to build a tower tall,
high wall stack of bucks
But, do a greedy dog ever get enough?
Categories:
fine looking, hyperbole, money, parody, perspective,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
On my knees, humbly, Thee I implore,
My Lord,
To forgive me, your foolish servant
For
Complaining for having not
The things I desired:
The color of eyes I wished for,
The gorgeous ears,
The lovely nose
The fine-looking hands
The straight legs,
The stunning body,
Instead of
Thanking Thee for what Thou to
Me have given:
Eyes that your creation
Can see,
Ears that Thy melodies enable
Me enjoy,
A nose that nature’s aromas
let me scent,
Hands that allow me to touch and
To caress,
Legs that permit me to move about
And
Finally, a body swift and strong to
Keep me healthy for such a very
Long time.
Show Thy mercy, my Lord, I Thee beseech
Cause
I have failed the worth of all Thy divine gifts,
Sooner to realize!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
28 AUGUST 2014
Categories:
fine looking, forgiveness, prayer, thanksgiving,
Form:
Free verse
Howling at the Pink Super Moon
On a moonlit late night
The Pink Supermoon
Casting a baleful light
On the world below
While inside
Sam Adams sat drinking
In a depraved bar
In a den of iniquity
In an evil part of the city
On the left side
Of society
Drinking up a storm
With his buddies
Johnny Walker, Jack Daniels
Jim Beam, and Mr. Evan
And Old Granddad looked on
Encouraging him to drink
One scotch, one bourbon, and one beer
He was just an unhinged lunatic
Dreaming of howling at the full moon
Watching the world walk by
Looking at all the fine-looking babes
Walking by the street
Thinking wild, erotic thoughts
Of endless wild libertine passions
He looked up
At the naked dancing ladies
Dancing up a storm
With an attitude
A Z tude
That could kill
When into the bar
Walked the most beautiful women
In the Universe
So wild, so free
So wonderfully alive
He did not know what to do
As this vision of delight
Sauntered through the bar
In skin-tight leather pants
Looked so fine
That his eyeballs hurt
Finally, he had to say something
he gathered up my manly courage
He walked up to her
She looked at him
Instantly bewitched his soul
With a devilish grin
He lost all reason
And became a raving lunatic
Unhinged lunatic
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
Of the blood-red lights of the moon
Full of wild passions
The lustful beast stirs again
And starts running and running
Howling at the moon
Riding into the new dawn
On a demented Harley Davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back
Riding into the sun
90 miles per second
At the speed of thought
He disappears into the lunatic light
Of the full moon
Sam Adams woke up alone,
In his bed
The naked babes
Having disappeared
From his demented dreams
Saying,
“Man, that was quite a night
I better not go there again”
The wild beast
Laughs
He has heard that before
And joins him
In howling at the Pink moon
In the fading light
Of the lost last night
Of the newly damned
Categories:
fine looking, addiction, drink, drug, mental
Form:
Free verse
The night lingers for as long as you would
On mine mind, back and forth, with my eyes closed,
You and those eyes, how uneasy I feel,
I kept wishing you'd stay longer, and voila, you're here
In my head, you're there when you're not around,
My special friend, you come over and we paint the town red
Or blue, I love you, pains wishing I could tell you the truth,
I keep on saying stupid things, but I'd rather stop and do nothing,
I'll fare just fine looking at you,
You said, "Let's swim and play with the waves",
Should have "I hope they're strong, I'll be ready and waiting
To help you right up should they knock you down",
Or something like that, I wished I was charming,
The line playing over and over in my head, would've said it but didn't,
Wondering if I'll have the chance to say it again, though I doubt it.
All good things end, (I hate that being with you is so awesome!)
I got all teary eyed wishing we never ever had to say...
"Goodbye", dammit, you said it (how I wished you'd stay!)
Alas, I know that it's hopeless, failed to tell you how I feel
And so farewell and thanks, at least you gave me a reason...
To over-think, that is, of all those things unsaid,
And what should be fine wine sunsets with peaceful thoughts of you
Turn to crass old beer I'd-drown-the-sad-thoughts-in-my-head
'Til I'd pass out and wake up to the same sad story -
That I'm here, you're away, and I cannot forget,
Regret - it's been driving me crazy.
Categories:
fine looking, love, sad, son, song-lyricme,
Form:
Free verse
A single shot while hunting ruffed grouse soaked my socks a deep sanguine against the snow.
A kiss to your broken lips glossed over the fine-looking lies we let slip onto the story of your indiscretion.
Categories:
fine looking, appreciation, growth,
Form:
Imagism