Best Fines Poems
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
What are these objects in your frames?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Why must they gotta be the same?
Cars and busses, traffic lights
Bicycles and motor bikes
Crosswalks, signs, and steps and stairs
Fire hydrants everywhere
Boats, planes and parking meters
Tickets, fines, misdemeanors
Why are you so fond of these?
Why are palms the only trees?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
The pictures trapped inside of there
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Depict a world so bleak and bare
Arid, bland, unaesthetic
Barren, drab, unpoetic
Sterile, cold, antiseptic
Unconcerned, apathetic
Somber, sad, and desolate
Woeful, bland, pedestrian
Weary, grim, dreary, hopeless
Grainy, gray, out of focus
It doesn’t need to be this way…
Many things could fill your squares
Why not fill these things in there?
Tambourines and castanets
Bass trombones and clarinets
English horns and piccolos
Harpsichords and xylophones
Fiddles high and Irish whistles
Jingle bells and finger cymbals
5-string banjos, mandolins
Saxophones, accordions
Desmond Tutu and Mandela
Cassius Clay, Cinderella
Charlemagne and Genghis Kahn
George and Ringo, Paul, and John
Twain and Edgar Allan Poe
Wayne and Brando and Monroe
Ida Wells, Frida Kahlo
Steinem, Parks, and Ferraro
River Thames and stormy seas
Winter wrens and bumble bees
Cyprus, ash, oak, fir, and pine
Sassafras, willow, and lime
Daffodils and magnolias
Marigolds and begonias
Cabbage, beets, and potatoes
Carrots, beans, and tomatoes
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
If your pictures must remain
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
How aboutcha change the frames?
Captcha circles, captcha suns
All the captcha olygons
Wiggly captcha twiggly lines
Twisty captcha twiny vines
Captcha diamonds, captcha hearts
Captcha clovers, moons, and stars
Captcha ribbons, Captcha lace
Captcha colored string bouquets
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
We understand you're here to stay.
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
Just be more creative, OK?
Categories:
fines, funny, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I Winter In Fallen Ash Of Burnt Dreams
I winter in fallen ash of burnt dreams
an armadillo, shell removed eyes blinded.
As time crawls on, midnight moon proudly beams
by its hollow glow, heart is reminded
this world operates with dark and wicked teams.
Sinking naked form into blacken earth
sad prisoner of this world's raging decay.
As evil winds from hell howl out their worth
others cry begging, let them have their way
man is truly cursed since before his birth.
Lo! Raging storms lay true romance to waste
spilled wine seeps and grapes rot on withering vines.
True, chosen few approve of its new taste
even honesty must pay heavy fines
both life and sweetest hope are sold like toothpaste.
I winter in fallen ash of burnt dreams
an armadillo, shell removed eyes blinded.
As time crawls on, midnight moon proudly beams
by its hollow glow, heart is reminded
this world generates more dark and wicked teams.
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme, (Dark Poetry, Sorrow's Basket)..
Categories:
fines, dark, deep, grief, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Some adults should go back to driving school,
those who seem not to comprehend red signs
at four-way stops. So many act a fool
and take my turn. Oh, there should be stiff fines!
Some licenses, I long to cut to bits.
Those jerks who chase me down, then ride my tail
or pass, then cut me off--all give me fits.
I want to see them languishing in jail!
But since there's nothing I can do to keep
these idiots from taking to the wheel,
I'll just drive on while hoping they will reap
what they deserve. I'll mask the way I feel.
My middle finger I will not hold high.
I'll watch for menaces as I but sigh.
Posted May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018, entered in Shadow Hamilton's Rant Contest Placed 1st
May 2, 2019, entered in Michelle Faulkner's Memories of May contest
Categories:
fines, anger, conflict,
Form:
Sonnet
Never again will you send my friend a frown
you will be shot down and you won't wear the crown
I as a doctor myself am ashamed to be in your presence
as far a the destroyer she is the pure slam essence
I am just a boy with the power of millions
you can't break anyone down with your billions
you don't see that your slams are not well written
and the only thing we get is nothing far from bitten
so Doc are you ready to pay all the fines?
because in the end I write the last slam line
back up the boat
you'll never cross my moat
my archers are in place
all aimed at your face
if you need me I'll be here
sharpening my sword's steel
waiting for an actual challenge
worth the fight and the balance
get back up or walk away
but in the end, I must say:
my personal display of affliction
isn't countered by your decision
Categories:
fines, slamslam, slam,
Form:
Couplet
We accept the GREAT Grace of Jesus, works of pure love
So we get eternity and so much else
Does it mean we defend those who steal and hurt others
again and again and again and again (only westerners)
When we suspect Syria used chemical weapons, we do not wait
We bomb the same day (in whose Name? Hubris, not Jesus)
So, let us help other nations prosper, reduce emigrants
And we will not have to return precious artefacts, pay millions in fines
And have courts tell us, "Don't separate refugee children from Moms"
Because we are forgiven much, given much (USA!) and need reminding:
Don't turn refugees as you did Jews in the 1940s from these shores
Or intern Japanese Americans because we went to war against Germany
(But preferred to turn yellow when race matters impinge on humanity)
Race matters .... yes, race matters: even in forgiving, it seems
No, to the question as title to this poem: Let's get real, kinder. Kinda ...
Categories:
fines, allusion, america, anger, child
Form:
Verse
Joe Biden now rules our White House
Together with his 'doctor' spouse.
His blunders, for sure-
We have to endure;
To caring, he does not espouse.
Those mishaps, like names he misspoke-
For sure, were not meant as a joke.
But much worse by far
His failures that scar-
Appeasing the will of the woke'!
Day-one, he shut down the pipeline-
made our oil production decline.
Gas prices- despise!
While heating bills rise!
We now must import and consign!
Appalling- how he shut that door
To exit the long Afghan war!
Left our troops behind-
Their rescue declined
In spite of their sacrifice bore!
Our vast Southern border, exposed-
All previous rules- he opposed.
He let millions in
And, to our chagrin-
Come outlaws and drugs- unopposed!
Bad crimes multiply by the day;
The victims now feel cast away.
With no fines or bail,
Or time spent in jail-
No need that bad guys must obey!
Inflation's gone way off the chart;
We dread the time spent at the mart.
Less food we now choose
For his brainless ruse-
Just printing out money's not smart!
And, last but not least, Hunter's life!
This son and his dad cause us strife.
With Chinese, each deals-
While 'The Big Guy' steals;
Through quid pro quo- they become rife!
Our media hypes left-wing views-
So, therefore, presenting fake news;
When really, they should
Show bad with the good;
Lay out all the facts to peruse!
November 25, 2022
Contest: The Bidens Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
Categories:
fines, america, corruption, how i
Form:
Limerick
"Lord what fools these mortals be!" Wm. Shakespeare
I hesitate to be on the same page,
with I the greatest poet of the ages,
but I believe his words to be true now,
fools gathering when it is not allowed.
The fools don't care who they put in danger,
be it a love one or perfect stranger,
they have no conscious when told to stay home,
as out in the streets they carelessly roam.
So, the only way to make them comply,
big fines, long jail time, government should try,
in order to flatten the virus curve,
and help all the caregivers who serve.
If I am wrong and callus so be it,
remember the curve top we have not hit.
Categories:
fines, anger, change, courage, encouraging,
Form:
Sonnet
To some, there is a “good side”
When you’re posing for a pic
And people show their “good sides”
Sometimes trying to be slick.
But if somewhere in Manhattan
Is the place from whence you hark
Then you know the “good side” means one thing –
The side where you can park.
For streets are cleaned 6 days a week
On alternating sides
With posted signs reminding us
To move away our rides.
So for an hour and a half
One side of every street
Is free of cars so sweep machines
Can make their work complete.
Most drivers sit inside their cars
Until the sweepers pass
Then quickly move back to their spots
So fines they won’t amass.
You’re lucky, though, if when you park
You snag a “good side” spot
For then a small reprieve, worth more than gold,
Is what you’ve got.
Categories:
fines, car, new york,
Form:
Rhyme
Traffic Jam Slam
Who dresses them up and puts them in cars
gives them their keys as they leave the bars
these drivers who sit at the red light and grin
preachers out practicing Sunday’s big sin.
Somehow they think we can’t see inside
as they dig in their noses and ogle with pride
something they found that they should probably hide.
She’s putting on make-up, He’s combing his hair
the kids in the back seat wish they weren’t there.
As the light changes they make that left –SLASH
while plucking the last of their graying eyelash.
They’re texting at red lights so they tend to linger
and when you disturb them they give you the finger.
Then there are those who ride on their bikes
who haven’t matured since they fell off their trykes,
riding on sidewalks and running stop signs
dressing in outfits that require fines.
Who leaves the slow people alone on the street
stuck in the crosswalk – rush hour - dead meat.
Now we have turkeys and the Canada Goose
invading the country, just plain running loose
crossing the highways, honking at us
and if you should hit one – oh what a fuss
PETA will come with a camera and crew,
let the whole world get a good look at you.
So put on your make-up and straighten that hair
your fifteen minutes of fame is frighteningly near.
For SKAT A slam the slam contest
John G. Lawless
5/31/2014
Categories:
fines, slam,
Form:
Free verse
I forgive you my dear country
And her ignoramuses
To my televangelists who prophesy
earthquakes
And hellfire
Instead of love and forgiveness
So they steal from the poor
To buy miracles from God;
To my shopkeeper who doubles the
price
Of flour at will
Even before Kidero completes his
speech
On taxes
I forgive you all.
I forgive you, brother
For refusing my handshake
Because I'm well-off than you
As if being rich is a crime.
I forgive you Mr Bossman
For turning down my job application
Though my only un-qualification
Was I failed to belong to your clan.
I forgive you my uncle back home
For perpetually grabbing my farm
Because I'm always in town
Getting a life for myself
When your sons are the chief's
drones
Who grab chickens from helpless
widows
And lynch witches in the village.
I forgive you too my ambitious
cousins
For conning me when you promised
To get me a job in your company
Immediately I'm through with
college.
I forgive you Mr. Policeman
For innocent incarceration
Torture
And hefty fines
Though you know I was innocent.
I forgive you Wamboi
For eating my money
Then running away with my children
And half of my wealth.
To my White brothers who think we
still live in the bush with antelopes
And harass us at their embassies
And airports
I forgive you too.
Before you clone another virus to
kill my people
I forgive you.
To all vagrants who rape our women
And slash the throats of fellow
Kenyans for money
I forgive you all.
To my bright law-makers in
parliament
I forgive you for your lies
I know I will see you again in 2017
In brand new bank notes
And brand new promises
And I will still forgive you.
To my colleagues fighting for
recognition
And job promotions
And wishing me jobless
I forgive you too
Your're just victims of greed
And selfishness.
To my heads of state
Sparking wars at will
Puppets of neo-colonialism
I forgive you too.
It's not in my position to judge
Or condemn you
History will do that.
Lastly
I forgive myself
For being too human
And trusting too much.
Categories:
fines, forgiveness
Form:
Blank verse
It is mid-week again,
and the incremental fines
imposed upon the clock
toll as a bell ringing down.
There is slippage in these transactions
that cannot be undone,
while yesterdays glories
are traded for tomorrow's guilt.
The markets tick along
accumulating matter and wealth.
The traders eat it up
then spew it from their faces.
Traffic is turning corners down the way
avoiding vicissitudes and man-hole covers.
They flirt with fate
Like a time machine gone awry.
Some sad story on the news
is blinking back a gush of tears.
Some will live; some will die,
But all go hungry for a lie.
Categories:
fines, business, city,
Form:
Free verse
On some English grass
On a piece of land forever England
Warriors of the realm
Take holy orders, on their Fathers grave
To defend the honour of their local pub
For this is the noble art of Sunday league Football
The crowds bay for blood
Shouts of foul and blind as a bat
The decision absurd
The referee a drunkard
Shouts of bar steward,
And your mothers questionable character
Cleaned up for posterity
The game goes on
Frank, the winger another yellow card
Another fine, I fear he will be barred
Groans for Bill a night watchman by trade
I think he’s a blade (Sheffield United supporter)
But not a very good keeper I’m afraid
Then there’s the striker
Super king Jack, 40 a day and a cough to match
Will need a penalty to score in this match
What about ken, a beer belly full back,
Rarely runs for fear of a heart attack
And slugger the centre half
Likes to break legs,
And still the only guy to sup a half a keg
Smooth talking tommy pulls birds on the six yard line
Greased black hair, and knobbly knees to match
Still Skill is not this team’s forte, for we are Britain’s
Taking part is our religion
Lost another game two nil
But won three two at fighting, brill
Bottom of the league
Fines galore
First Aid in the pub
A good drink after
Enemies in the field, but forever friends in laughter.
That’s Sunday football league
Home to the wife
And Sunday dinner, roast beef and Yorkshire pud
Another bottle of bud
Feet up, settee calls
Dreams of Wembley, and Sheffield Wednesday
Not a bad life for this Yorkshire clan
Here in Sheffield where football began.
Categories:
fines, friendship, funny, sports, fear,
Form:
Free verse
What's up with all y'all?
I'm awkward and tall
Catch me before I fall
I'm dancing in the Hall of Fame
Shame just came...just came...
Tame me up in God's name
Liar and cheaters aren't tolerated here
Lick me with your fire and hold me dear
Have no fear; darling, have no fear
Steer the boat away from trouble...
Danger will double...double...
Don't burst my bubble...bubble...
Bubbled up by bubbles...
I'm not dumb - I'm a young teenager right in front of your face
I'm super deeduper smart and fantabulous in vast grace
The future has got me many places...I remember the traces
In a coma
Add on my stress like a comma...
I pause, then I go
You know, I'm living just foshow
Leave me alone, negativity
I invite you in, positivity
I need You to make me optimistic
I don't wanna be so pessimistic
Sarcasm was rolling off my tongue
You're my other lung
Lunge into me, breath of the Holy Spirit
I have a boyfriend, so quit your ****
You can eat me up bit by bit...
Because I don't throw those 5-year-old fits
Too many times have I covered up for you
You belong with me, darling, it's true
I'm a wild child for a reason
I am as magical as the winter season
Like, seriously, brah, you good in the hood
Because shame on me - I'm misunderstood
My confident stride
Is due to my bipolar ride
My confidence shines
Paying your fines
Punks and dorks are filling this room with doom
Let me bloom like a butterfly flower...consume
Happiness...resume on with your joy and peace - get a room!
I am growing like a mushroom...
I hear the explosion of excellence - boom!
The writer, the fighter...
Has came back 7-fold
I'm a sensitive guy, so don't go higher...
We are on the same level, my darling devil
I am oh so bold...
Maybe a little too much for my own good
I'm in the arms of a billion angels
In all angles...stripped down by devils
I blush, for you are the one for me
I crushed on you, my blessed baby
Let's live on and die a mighty winner
For, you are a winner, reader
Confidence shines...let's follow the Leader
Categories:
fines, words,
Form:
Free verse
Movements between a left and a right swing
A pendulum plays a well-known rhythm
Moments between the ticking and tocking
A lonely figure bracing in the storm
An empty park-bench on a quiet lawn
A pendulum plays a well-known rhythm
Like a long lost memory towards dawn
The distant baying of a hunting dog
An empty park-bench on a quiet lawn
Hearing bright laughter thru the gloomy fog
Sometimes life is spent in little spaces
The distant baying of a hunting dog
Out at large, on and on the world races
Life, long or short, fines a nominal sum
Sometimes life is spent in little spaces
Knocking at a door for heaven to come
Movements between a left and a right swing
Life, long or short, fines a nominal sum
Moments between the ticking and tocking.
Categories:
fines, life, life,
Form:
Terzanelle
Breaking free from collusion
A watch tower stands tall a look out in the circular prisons
surrounded by wardens laying down prescriptions and rules
with us in the centre fragmented in dead ends and schisms
mirrored glass no one inside we internalise as obedient fools
At the gate high walls conscience barriers and road blocks
imagined barbed wire where we pay fines in constant delusion
monitored in constriction we fail to walk outside of that box
abide by dogma norms lack vision to approach our confusion
Afraid of cul de sacs dead ends stop signs for individual drive
we halt and abide arrested immobilised for society’s sake
accept torturous certainty admit to all guilt and as we shrive
cannot distinguish from needs what is causing us mind ache
Roundabout’s exits guarded by our very own straight jackets
we spin around like puppets on strings to our master’s delight
The ‘panopticon’ demands obedience and we cannot attack it
for lack of conviction rebellion introspection rigorous insight
Unless we break free from chains of what others demand
disregard our dreams our beauty default on individual virtue
the road ends at a four way stop where forever we stand
disunited abolished forgotten and constant imagined taboo
4th January 2017
Written for contest: At the end of the road
Categories:
fines, freedom,
Form:
Quatrain