Best Franchise Poems
I always wanted two slices of ice cube pie
“You only get one”, was the standard reply.
I don’t know why I did
But since I was a kid
It was my favorite treat on the Fourth of July.
The pastry is known by all our relations
Since the recipe’s passed down for generations.
Every bite you’ll savoir
Exceptional flavor
But remember, don’t settle for imitations
Long ago, my great Aunt tried experiments
By leaving out one of the ingredients.
Once Uncle took a bite
He stared out in fright
And barely survived that bad experience.
My oldest son, Johnny became quite wise
He grew up like the others, before our eyes.
His passion for confection
Was a gainful connection
When he opened the first ice cube pie franchise.
Soon after that, we made our first million
And played in the sun with friendly Brazilians.
But to our surprise
We saw ice cube pies
On bamboo platters next to our pavilion
Right away we knew this was an infraction
Without delay our family took action.
We found a private eye
Who loved our ice pie
But his research left him broken in traction.
It was apparent to us that that kind of job
Was endorsed by the brutal ice cube pie mob.
But we didn’t frown
Or give up and back down
We were going to prevail; oh, yes siree, Bob!
With a meeting of minds we gathered resources
And then undersigned the following courses.
To make sure our ices
Sold at cut-rate prices
To knock competition off its high horses.
So back at the shop we assembled platoons
To build enough pies to reach to the moons.
And made plenty dough
That allowed us to mow
Down the cube racket’s, knuckle dragging goons.
We now manage an ice cube pie monopoly
Sales started smooth, but then turned choppily.
So we eased the frustration
With another vacation
But guess what we saw in downtown Mexicali?!
...They proclaimed that we ‘oppressed women,’
it’s the refrain of loud femenists,
forgetting that before birth control
nature gave us little choice in this.
That before we had technology,
when life meant brutal, physical work,
that there just weren’t all that many jobs
physically weaker women could work.
They forget that the woman’s franchise
arose on America’s frontier,
that we blazed the path for suffrage,
their equality started right here.
Now why would a nation do all that
if they cared so little for females?
If we sought to be patriarchal
then I dare say the strategy failed.
And yet the left keeps raging about
rights which women have been long endowed,
Why should we buy all their self-hatred
when there’s so much for which to be proud?
And worst of all these fools like to claim,
that we’ve learned nothing, it’s all the same,
which I think is a sure sign that they
have something dreadful wrong in their brains.
We look at our mistakes all the time,
we brood endless on our sins and scars,
America lacks no self-reflection,
if anything we take it too far!
We get so obsessed with all our wrongs
that we think they drown out all the right,
we selfishly think it’s all our fault,
then of the truth we sadly lose sight.
Many cultures can’t ask such questions,
ask the Turks about past genocides,
or see if Communist China will
own up to all the Uighurs that died.
You don’t see many Japanese kids
who know about the rape of Nanking,
yet every American does know
that Wounded Knee was a horrible thing.
Why should we regret a culture that
tries to learn rather than disavow?
Our growing should not bring self-hatred,
to be honest, it should make us proud.
In the end, these issues are smokescreens,
thrown up to keep good people off track,
the left wants us all to hate ourselves
because self-hating folk rarely fight back.
There’s no logic behind what they hate,
hell, it changes hour-to-hour,
what unifies all these self-hatreds
is whether it will bring them power.
That’s really what’s behind all of this,
like some grand Machiavellian scheme,
to make free people into peasants
they first must be cut down and demeaned.
In truth, they don’t like Americans,
they don’t like people who stand unbowed,
so reject their vile self-hatred,
embrace all the things that make us proud.
They're playing in the bowl tomorrow
and we are so very proud.
We Seahawk fans are loyal
and also very loud.
We'll be settled by our TV sets
before the game begins.
We'll stay for the fifth quarter
no matter which side wins.
I'm thinking of my men folks
who had cheered them through the years.
Are they watching them from Heaven
and applauding with loud cheers?
The Seahawk's franchise was formed
back in Nineteen Seventy-Six.
My husband and four brothers
would yell like lunatics
when the Seahawks added to their score
And it seemed as though they'd win.
I would look at them all yelling
and would shudder at the din.
Then when my son was older,
he joined that happy crew.
I threw in the towel and recognized
I would have to join them too.
They taught me all about first downs
and field goals and touch downs also
and many of the games intricacies
that a good fan needs to know.
My husband and my brothers
and even my loved son
have all gone on before before me
Their cheering on Earth is done.
I wish that they could be here
to see their loved team play.
Daughters and grandchildren will cheer with me
tomorrow on Super Bowl Day.
By: Joyce Johnson
There was a Starship Enterprise,
It was the ruler of the skies,
But you don't really care for sci-fi, do you?
With Captain Kirk
And Mr Spock
And don’t forget the trademark jock,
And there upon the bridge you’ll find Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
You’ll find Bones Macoy down in sickbay,
“I’m a doctor Jim” he’d say,
And cure whatever space bug ran through you,
He’ll banish away every cough,
Even if your name’s Chekov,
Or perhaps you might be sweet Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
To make the starship up and go,
The man you really need to know,
Is the Helm officer called Sulu,
But if it’s a message you’d like to send,
Then of course you can depend,
Upon the talented Miss Uhura,
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Your voyage lasted three short years
But despite the trekkie’s fears,
It wouldn’t be the last time that we’d view you,
Of feature films there’d be twelve,
Before the franchise they would shelve,
But we won’t forget you dear Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura
“O commercialized corporate franchise”
Thou that holds illusions in selling lies
Max out your credit cards
Lenders be holder’s lords
Forfeiting all bank notes as owner cries
“O commercialized corporate franchise”
My babies wonder about Christmas guys
My babies’ futures be scared
Must obey corporate lords
“O thou commercialized corporate lies”
Just commercialized greedy Xmas rush
Souls like zombies of the corporate thrust
The X of the Christ
O Love’s sacrifice
“In commercialized corporate we trust”
For Commercialized Humor contest
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire
The promiscuous length of daylight
in the month of June,
spawned from a sunrise that
allocated a childish franchise.
The moorland breeze; that, to
rely upon when indulgence in dewy
pastures, leaves one reminiscencing
in how once the silvery moon shone.
Gildersber wrapped in winters
relentless white blanket, a pledge of
sledge irons to polish in youthful
exuberance, before life to
cherish in tracks of sheer delight,
when profound in greyness
the sky gave one a reason
for happiness.
This simple memory of one’s
sentimentality, somewhat indistinct
yet a zest of devotion in life
across the deep ocean.
Although elsewhere in this a
time warp of evanescent
I only have to dream
to be with you again!
© Harry J Horsman 2008
Faculty meeting. Formidably flippantly fortuitously fluffy and forgetful.
I began to write a little list of F words, because I was in the F word mood.
Frilly. Free-ha-ha. Feast. Forget-me-knots. Fallacy. Farming. Fastidious. Fun-filled.
What are you doing? A non-friend asked me. She had already broken my chain of counting when I was
Counting syllables, making me angry.
“I am writing F words,” I tell her. She looks at me with fanfare, farcically, fantastically.
I am relieved to begin anew. Now I am adding PH words, because they will go along well with my theme.
Phonetically, phenomena’s, phenol barbital, phosphate, phantom, philosophy
“You can always ask Caren.”
Uh-oh.
I look up.
Everyone is looking at me including the principal who is pleased as punch I’m taking such great notes.
I nod my head.
Feline, foamy. Form-fitting, fleshy, flesh-eating, fractions, fanfare, fishy, finished, foamy, Phillip, fixed, fixt.
Someone puts their hand on my paper.
I glare at them. “What are you doing?”
I put my finger to my lips to shush them.
Fluffy. Faerie, Fairy. Franchise. Farmer. Freshman. Frequent. Frequently.
Feminine. Farcical. Feisty. Fibber. Fibbing. French fries.
I look up.
Clock says 4:35. Time to go.
Totally un-socialized, I fly out the door, knowing the union is on my side.
Never saying die, their courage sorely tested,
they fought so valiantly to win one more;
seemingly defeated, they always battled back,
then Damon put the Yankees on the floor.
With scarcely any time to blink or even catch their breath,
the Bean Town boys were destined for St. Lou
to play a franchise known for their ability
to hit 'em deep, and steal a base or two.
It was never even close to being a contest,
we clipped their wings and made the Red Birds crawl;
from Foulke to Millar for the final killing,
our RED SOX are the CHAMPIONS of them ALL!
When Philadelphians wanted to see a basketball game,
the “Warriors” was their first team’s name.
They had several players achieving great fame.
Familiar names included Joe Fulks and Paul Arizin.
They were joined by Tom Gola and Wilt Chamberlain.
However, it was in the year of 1962
when the NBA franchise packed up and bid adieu.
The only professional team Philadelphia would know,
moved their operations to San Francisco.
Therefore, Philadelphia was without a team for a year.
However, the Syracuse Nationals relocated here.
In the City of Brotherly Love, they took a new name.
The “Seventy-Sixers” were now playing the game.
They traded to bring Wilt Chamberlain back.
The offense sported a formidable attack.
Among the big names that were playing here,
were Chet Walker, Luke Jackson, and Hal Greer.
The city’s basketball fans were in seventh heaven
when their team became world champions in 1967.
The Senators felt it was time to leave DC.
They sought a new home in another part of the country.
No team had ever had such bad luck as this.
Their fans did not consider last-place finishes bliss.
These boys decided to move to St. Paul and Minneapolis.
Minnesota welcomed them as the “Twins” was their new name.
Fine young talent made the team play a better game.
Quality baseball was for what the franchise did strive.
An American League pennant was achieved in 1965.
Winning games is what they continue to do today.
The Minnesota Twins baseball team is here to stay.
SPRING MORNING
The Bluebells hail the morning sunrise
tears of dew grace stems of green,
the valley nestles in God’s franchise
foliage awakening across the dene,
here a spring morning reigns serene.
SPRING DAWN
Morning tide enhance sweetness of the songstress call
buoyant curlews in oceans of copious grass,
wave after wave shattering against dry stone wall,
spring dances to the rhythm of the weatherglass
obeying whimsical whims from the moor top pass.
SPRING VIEW
Song Thrush calls reveille
morning in infancy
penetrates the valley,
spring day of clemency
portrait of regency.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
What ever happened to people, who really cared
about the poor and needy in my beloved country?
The current Presidental The administration would like us
to go away. Why not pray God will have the final say!
Yes, rising stock market is good news.
But what about the poor people
trying to make it month after month.
Rising rents are higher than most
people's incomes. Where is all of their
extra money supposed to come from
When a franchise owner of a local Denny;s
on Evergreen Way, in Everett Washington,
had to close down his restaurant.
Why, because the greedy landlord
raised the rent much higher than
he needed to. It was located
not in the high rent district of Everett.
When is enough really enough!
A President of the United States of
America only cares about the wealthy.
And really wants to forget about
the rest of us.
Cutting Social Security,
Medicaid and Medicare.
While lining the pockets
of his wealthy friends.
What a terrible trend
this country is headed in!
The people of Saint Louis
are facing severe wage cuts.
When is enough, enough?
The current administration does not
really care whether care or not
his people breathe fresh air.
Having pure water to drink,
or fresh and healthy food to eat.
He does not care if the poor
and the homeless line
city streets. Does he really
care? President Donald
Trump maybe would say,
"If they don't have any
food to eat, let them eat cake!"
Yes our nation's infer structure
does badly need repair.
He cares about repairing bridges,
and free ways. Maybe he
even cares if the workers
get paid!
Love as always!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
July 17, 2017
I was there, the last time that God lost
His Faith. Admittedly, since the death
of His Son, there have been a few bad
years that could have influenced His
decision. He sent a note to the self-
regulating Heads of His Church,
those collectors of the faithful, that
they had lost their 'Master of Ceremonies '.
And yet, like the perpetual turning of a
water wheel, the world continued to turn
on its axis. And its ghostly moon continued
to reflect the sun. Man still either hated or
loved his fellow man. And, in His absentia,
the deacons of His faith still pressed on with
their own brand of unctuousness, ensuring
every reverent man remained in tow. And
that the much needed zealot didnt become
rudderless without the smoke and mirrors of
Dorothys Grand Wizard. Too many careers had
come to fully rely upon God's franchise. Perhaps
that was what He had lost faith in? The burden
of carrying an overloaded workforce. However,
the Lord did eventually regain His Faith.
How do I know? Well, for a while I was one
of the chosen. So, there you have it. No poets
code, no similes or rhyme. Just plenty of irony
and pith. Sorry to all of the faithfil if I didn't use
enough parable or the requsite dose of deference and guilt.
For you see, I've lost my faith.
A happy new year needs a new resolution
To sort out my lifestyle - to find a solution
I'll stop fishing each day - from dawn until dusk
I should be proactive - not follow blind luck
I'll train a new workforce to catch more and more fish
A new angle on angling towards my new wish
I'll start a fish stall at the town's fishing market
And set my own quota to meet my fish target
I'll swap my old rod for an old fishing boat
For more and more fishing to keep us afloat
Then take a fair loan from a fair weather friend
A fleet of fish trawlers - expand and extend
I'll promote my fish brand with fish fingers and toes
Fish knees and fish eyebrows, fish legs and elbows
And market a franchise to build a store chain
Of shops inside shop malls to make a large gain
And when I am richer I'll hold a big auction
To sell my big business to make a big fortune
I'll buy a big mansion next to a big lake
And go back to fishing - my passion - my ache
Entry to "new year's resolution" contest - written "subconsciously" as required (honest!)
Written 1st January 2017 - not coincidentally!
...Oliver had saved up the cash
to buy into his employer’s franchise,
bought his own store, aggressively courted
every rancher in the countryside.
Soon enough the cash flow was well in the black,
so Oliver and the bartender wed,
bought their own house and were soon expecting,
he cared nothing for what the people said.
Jack, still drinking, played the Hollywood scene,
was a fixture of the wild nightlife,
soon he was in the tabloids again
when he knocked up a girl he knew one night.
He managed to keep working in film,
supporting roles were the best he could get,
with alimony and child support
he found himself slipping into the red.
When he crashed his car into his front door
he was quickly shuffled off to rehab,
in what would be the first trip of many,
the addiction had a grip on him bad.
But still he managed to get some work,
and when folks saw his face on the air,
they’d look at Oliver, mumbling how,
“That brother never went anywhere.”
Now Hollywood is a hot-bed of rumors,
and a disturbing percentage are true,
soon tales spread of Jack’s early acting days,
and all the things a new actor has to do.
Rumors of giving favors to producers,
insinuations of oral sex,
some said that was why her drank so damn much,
and why relationships left him vexed.
Whatever the case, on the internet,
the rumors became an ongoing meme,
his reputation thrown in the toilet
by GIFs and infographics obscene.
Oliver, back in fair Nebraska,
really had no reason to complain,
he had three kids and sold big equipment
to half the ranchers on the Sand Hills range.
Nobody was making memes out of him,
no reporters were snooping through his trash,
tabloids were not undermining his marriage,
and he was making more than enough cash.
He had six stores and a seventh coming,
and a hundred acres tied to his home,
a life or both family and friends sincere,
the general public did leave him alone.
The only thing that could worry Oliver
was what would happen to his brother Jack?
How many stars had walked down that same road,
and how many of them had never come back?
Though Jack’s state would weight hard on his mind,
and hear feared to see him drowning in despair,
Oliver couldn’t help but laugh at the folk
who thought it was he who was going nowhere.