Best Furthermore Poems
Wipe that silly grin from your face, boy
I am a woman, but certainly not a wimp
Watch me roll with the punches, tough guy
It'll take more than your words my style to crimp
Hey, babe, your style really sucks
Call that art, I have seen kids write better
Have some heart, instill it in your writes
Feel the moment, feel those letters
My feelings are there, you just may not relate
If you can't grasp my intent, too bad for you
I write from my heart, not from a man's head
I know what I'm saying, you just haven't a clue
Oh, i see you have posted another piece
Let me read and determine my thoughts
Excellent shape and so true to form
This definitely has plusses, you must be man taught
Hold on, joker, no man has influenced me
Dickinson and Teasdale are among the finest
Your thoughts on my work I'll disregard
Your views on poetry reveal your blindness
The last write you wrote, has invited my see
It has clearly shown, your writing to be
Scope, shape and the form you have written
I have scrolled to your past, and I am sorrowful smitten
No more condescending from ye on the throne?
What was it that made you feel superior?
And, furthermore, what gave you the right
To make any poet feel inferior?
I know that I’m not perfect, just go and ask me wife.
At times she’s kind of said - I’m the bane of her life,
but on her better days she wouldn’t trade me for a thing,
and sometimes she has even thanked me for the ring.
Sometimes I overlook a mite and pile clothes on the floor;
leave a beer can in the lounge room or forget to shut a draw.
The toilet seat might be left up; grease in the bathroom sink,
and of course I cop a barrage - “Don’t you ever bloody think!”
I put up a slight defence I s’pose to save me on the skids,
I reminded her I’m not as bad as either of our kids,
but remarks like that cause suffering; the vote goes three to one,
so I had to do some crawling for the damage that I done.
The crawling that I had to do is behind their Mother’s back,
but once again a big mistake saw her leading an attack.
In a request for gaining brownie points I should have chose a cat,
but the kids insist they wanted me - to buy them a pet rat.
We snuck this rat into the shed and they both named it Brad,
but our female ‘Sergeant Major’ went completely bloody mad.
She really stuck the boots in; especially into me …
making promise of a firing squad if neglect soon came to be.
But both the kids then promised to satisfy their Mother’s rage,
that Brad will be looked after; well fed in the cleanest cage.
They pampered Brad for two months - treated like a king,
then the novelty wore off - Mum was doing everything.
So at the dinner table Mum declared she’d had enough.
Maintaining to our children that it has got too tough.
He’s too much work for one and because that one is me,
he’s going to have to leave and the kids did half agree.
Then Mother added furthermore, “I’m sick of his daily mess,
and right now I note he’s eating, and drinking to excess.”
Me eldest boy then quietly spoke, by adding “Mum you’re right,
if he didn’t eat and drink so much, he could stay is that right?”
Mum responded firmly, “Correct, he could stay for evermore,
if he had used better manners and cleaned his mess off the floor,
now go to the shed and grab the cage, and in the car put Brad …”
“Brad!” Me youngest ‘fella’ bawled - “We thought you said Dad.”
I reckon some folks prefer a hound dog lyin' at their feet,
While others might enjoy a twitterin' parakeet.
But be it a mogul's mansion or a humble flat,
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Thankfully, my cat doesn't bark or scourge my pristine lawn,
Nor does he wake me for outside relief at the crack of dawn!
Furthermore, my dear old pal I seldom have to holler at;
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
My cat is content to have me stroke and brush his hair,
And happier yet if he can snooze upon my favorite chair.
A master of his realm, why should he ever want to roam?
Without an inscrutable cat, a house just ain't a home!
While he reposes upon my lap and I stroke his silky fur,
Ain't nothin' more relaxin' than to hear his soothin' purr.
He won't condone a walk, I'll certainly grant you that.
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
His independent airs and a few stray hairs I can tolerate;
Even my chair nigh the glowin' fire to him I will abnegate.
I 'spose you could enjoy a snake, pot-bellied pig or hybrid rat,
But a house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Cat Poem Poetry" Contest
Oklahoma just passed an executive order
About the obvious disorder
Of letting men break through the border
Called a women’s bathroom door
Which has always been there for
Keeping out men and furthermore
Those who are men no more
Oh, some may scream, ‘where are their rights?
They’re out there fighting the fights,
To pee with one’s wearing tights.’
Yes, but would you let your daughter
Much too young, with hardly a care
Into those bathrooms alone
With a ‘whatever’ that shaves its chest hair?
And whatever else the ‘whatever’ may share
Is that what you would condone?
OK, may say no to athletes competing
Even if their male body parts were deleted
With women on equal ground
The women don’t need that type around
To race against for athletic glories
Like AI competing with us for poetry stories
But still why does a government
Need an executive order to present
The obvious difference between gals and guys
Even when one or more’s in disguise?
Well, it’s the same old trick with a new bent
Pushed by the bought and paid fed government
They cloud what it means about gender
And try to stuff family morals in a blender
So that when they offer their crisis solution
We’ll bow down to their wicked resolution
Of their digital money and total control
Over all our bodies, minds, and souls
Partially paved by those with a men’s skull
Who can no longer use a urinal
In the days of mystic Merlin and captivating Celtic lore
The Ancient Druids danced and exuberantly did explore
The Celtic Circles of cityscapes and festive furthermore
They gathered ritually round their sacred scenic stones
Like super Stonehenge sites of zodiacal zenithal zones
Within the Galic gates of the great universal unknowns
Celebrating the Summer Solstice of Natures living law
Through cosmic energy the Druid Duir of ancient awe
Of Celtic clans with sapiential symbols of a Shangri-La
The Celtic Cross still remains within our scintillant sight
Tuatha De Danann tribes of the gods of ritualistic rite
Their stories and teachings amalgamate in a Wizards night.
May.02.2017
YGGDRASIL ME - Contest
Sponsored by: White Wolf
Illustration by same poet...
Markers on white board...
The poet Marshall Mathers
whilst "Cleaning Out My Closet"
blasted with inquiry-
"Have you ever been hated on or discriminated against?
I have...''
Interesting enough
in these crooked times
it is impossible to make a man like you,
or your art,
especially with unbounding determination.
Nevertheless,
It sure is mighty easy to attain their hatred,
through no fault of your own.
When they protest or demonstrate against you...
finally you have arrived!
That's powerful!
Common sense says,
"Never drive in the rear view mirror!"
Though, it sure is helpful to take a quick glance back
periodically
to check out Jealousy,
back there
doubting and shouting and eating your dust!
Take a whiff...
Listen...
AHHHH....
The band begins to play ferociously!
Off-key.
Off-color.
Slander Slogans pasted upon your face.
Furthermore,
Suddenly,
Systematically...
like roaches with lights bright,
they disappear into the night,
back to the slums;
begging for crumbs.
Once you've been Blacklisted;
Swallow.
Digest the miracle.
Pure, glowing gold
the alchemy of their anger,
visibly discernable from the glossy pyrite
appearing with fake praise.
Heed the old adage:
---------------Keep yir' friends close, and enemies closer.
Their futile harm repels from the Teflon donning your heart.
Envy
burns bold, boils,
melts and cools, then cold,
forging the sword.
Adding to your arsenal.
Stumble not
upon bone fragments,
brittle blacklist bandits...
the Catacombs of those
who aimed to defame your name,
staking claim for their
shameless sea of debris
and Rotten Forgottens
which only bolster your begotten flame.
Remain steadfast, undaunted
TROUNCE THOSE TREACHEROUS TROUBLES;
________________________ TO ________________________
MARCH THROUGH THE RIGOROUS RUBBLE!
*Heads High,
Let me see those eloquent eyes!~JsL
~Inspired by written words of Marshall Mathers, Cleaning Out My Closet,
Shady Records~
Oft' I wonder what my cat Simba thinks behind that baleful stare.
Is he planning roguery or just building castles in the air?
Perhaps he's reviewing strategies for catching a bird to devour.
Here's what I sense goes on behind his condescending glower!
I 'puuur'ceive he's thinking, "Hey, remove yourself from my chair!
Who said you could sit there - that's my favorite lair!
Will you at least make room on your very ample lap,
So I can curl up and take my usual afternoon nap?"
Many times he glares at me and emits a plaintive 'meow'.
I'm sure he's thinking, "Hey, pal, ain't it time for chow?"
He stalks about the house as if it was his sole domain,
Thinking, "I guess I'll benevolently allow you to remain!"
With soulful eyes he invites me to scratch behind his ears.
If I try to comb his coat, "Oh no you don't!" and he disappears!
Sprawling upon the window sill he gazes across the street,
Eyeing the Persian cat, thinking, "Meeee-Wow! Her I'd like to meet!"
When he begins to purr and 'puuur'sistently rubs against my feet,
He's probably thinking, "Hey, old buddy, how about a treat?"
My cat thinks, "He's not a bad sort, him I can tolerate.
He provides my grub - furthermore, with him I can communicate!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Francine Roberts' "Pick A Pet" Contest - July 2011
Mary Ann had a boyfriend that she
gave affection and great loyalty.
Since the age of sixteen
no one else had she seen
but she wanted more at thirty-three!
Her boyfriend, of course, had it made
since regularly, he would get laid.
So excuses he gave
when Mary Ann would rave
about marriage. . . and unwed they stayed.
Getting pregnant was her coup d'etat
when she said, “You will soon be a pa!”
She said, “Furthermore, Bruce,
I don’t need an excuse.
In my mind we’re a pair - common-law!”
For Black Eyed Susan's Excuses Poetry Contest
My husband and I got a new RV.
A camouflage Polaris. No small fee!
Atop a mountain hubbie took that thing,
then stopped to rest himself beneath a tree.
He got up in a while, then made a groan.
It would not start; furthermore, his phone
was out of area. What could he do?
He stayed up on the mountain all alone.
At last somebody helped my husband, so
he was able then to get a tow,
which cost a lot of money. Anyway,
I hope next time he starts it, it will go!
The next day hubbie’s back looked really sick
because he’d had the janky luck to pick
up something as he lay beneath the tree -
it was an ugly big blood-sucking tick!
Nov. 3, 2016
True story from July 2016
for Tanis Troutman's Your Last Janky Experience Poetry Contest
In these precarious times,
I would be most unappreciative
not to give thanks to God
for what remains of goodness in the world:
the love and support of family and friends,
the kindness of strangers,
and the bounties of the earth which always I’ve enjoyed.
Furthermore, I have deep respect for those who died
to preserve the freedoms I hold dear -
especially for those who in the most fearsome of times
and wearing their valor like a knight’s armor
while witnessing horrors and great sorrows -
were willing to die for someone like me
who cannot even fathom a sacrifice so huge as theirs.
I thank God for the souls of such great people
who fought to keep freedom’s light burning brightly.
In these modern times I am thankful, Lord,
for the convictions of men and women
who, for righteous causes,
are willing to sacrifice their reputations
and even give up their very livelihoods
by standing up for truth
as they know it to be.
Thank you, God, for my inspiring fellow beings -
the ones who stand firm in their convictions,
and help me, please, oh God, to be
as brave as they.
HAPINESS
HAPPINESS is when you and I, are not STRESS
HAPPINESS is when we are feeling and experiencing being BLISS and BLESS
and, moreover, HAPPINESS, is when we are HIGH ABOVE with much, much LOVE and not with LESS, or a MESS.
In addition, HAPPINESS is when we are HAPPY and not SNAPPY; furthermore, HAPPINESS is when the HEART is feeling STRONGER and FONDER with the real BEAUTIFUL and VITAL THINGS and BEINGS of LIFE without the GRIEF and the STRIFE.
As a matter of fact, HAPPINESS is when you and I, are FREE with lots of JUBILEE mentally and spiritually; also when we have RISE above the NEGATIVE THINGS of LIFE through WISDOM, KNOWLEDGE and with the infinite UNDERSTANDING of the MOST HIGH, LOVE, GOD and our CREATOR, LOVE HIMSELF, through POSITIVITY and MORALITY.
Above all and overall, true HAPPINESS, is when you, me and or the whole wide world, have opened up our EYES and MINDS; or our HEARTS to the SPIRITUAL THINGS in LIFE that money cannot buy; that we cannot SELL for any PRICE. In a nutshell, HAPPINESS is a GIFT from GOD, and not only that, but that it is a GIFT that is PRICELESS, and not TASTELESS; nor ENDLESS. Shalom and be happy. poem written by. (Crystal) Yehuwdiyth Y. Yisrael
Under quarantine, I am asked, along with many other people,
to stay inside my house -
except if I should go out for necessity’s sake.
I have no quarrel with this.
In fact, I count myself fortunate that I am not required
to drive a semi like my husband, who has asthma.
Nor must I work in a hospital, like my sister,
who has to work inside one to help support her family.
I am not forced to work facing a stream of customers inside a grocery store,
irate because they find no toilet paper in the store.
I do not have to work at any job in order to maintain health insurance
or feel forced to work as a sole provider of a household.
My boss has allowed me to continue working in my part-time job
from the comfort of my home office,
and for now, all is going well in that regard.
Furthermore, I love my house!
I have a comfy bed, televisions upstairs and down,
computers, running water, food, and electricity.
My dog is here to keep me company
and my husband is with me
from morning to night on days he isn't driving.
Friends and family are a phone-call away.
If I want, I can walk the dog on quiet blocks of my neighborhood
or simply step out onto my porch, breathe fresh air
and feel excitement for sunny days coming,
for I have to believe that Spring IS coming for us all.
Many in the world right now are not nearly
so blessed as I am.
I worry for my loved ones who have to leave their homes
to work on “front lines” for their livelihoods
and for the world’s poor who live paycheck to paycheck,
or worse, may be homeless and on the streets.
I worry for my husband, a good man who suffers from anxiety,
facing the threat of a virus everytime he goes out on the road.
Meanwhile I get to stay inside my house -and I say this thankfully,
for "here" is my home - my castle - my sanctuary.
April 3, 2020
for "Quarantine Poems" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
'Tis well known that mules are a very stubborn breed,
So 'tis well to keep that point in mind ere you proceed!
They've been known to bite and they have a mighty hefty kick.
(So, how to harness a mule? Very carefully and you must be quick!)
First, you should tie the mule to a sturdy post in an open area.
This will provide you room to move about and lessen his hysteria!
Grab the collar and slide the wider open end over the mule's ears.
(While doin' this, whisper sweet nothin's to him to calm his fears!)
Fasten the hames to the collar and drape the traces over his back.
Tuck the crupper under his tail makin' sure it is somewhat slack.
Tighten the girth ensurin' it's tight, then, fasten the bellyband.
(Take a break to bind the wound where he nipped you on the hand!)
The reins are carefully threaded through the saddle and collar guides.
(You're forgiven when he steps on your foot and you holler naughty asides!)
Now, slip the halter and bridle over his ears and place the bit in his mouth.
Walla! You're ready to hitch him to the plow to turn those forty acres south!
Well, so what you may ask? Why all this fuss about harnessin' a mule?
Because you may be required to harness one someday and not look the fool!
Furthermore, with the price of gasoline risin' at the pump nowadays,
You may need to get a mule and buggy and change your gas-guzzlin' ways!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
George Bernard Shaw, born in 1856,
Wrote plays and novels,
But for me the most
Important was he wrote many a poem
A quote of his “Write your sad times
In Sand, write your good times in stone”.
My poem ‘From Humble Beginnings’
Just the title mind you, is exactly from
Where Mr Shaw heralded, Dublin
Ireland, his fame was renown, no
University background, yet Literature
For Bernard was just thrilling,
And his quotes, plays and poems,
Always fulfilling.
“A life spent making mistakes is not only
Honorable, but more useful than a
life spent doing nothing”.
His winnings
Were numerous among which,
The Nobel Prize, and even an Oscar.
His quote “Life isn’t about finding
Yourself, Life is about creating
Yourself”. And, as such to be convincing.
His interest in politics was avid, he was
A true Socialist and joined the Fabian
Society, he became popular and
Enjoyed doing theater critics.
Started writing his own plays,
In so many different themes, the class
System, religion and the inequalities
In life. The public responded to his natural
Humor, Shaw's quote “The longer I live,
The more convinced am I that this planet
Is used by other planets as a lunatic asylum”.
For, said this wise poet,
“Progress is impossible without change, and
Those who cannot change their minds cannot
Change anything” and furthermore,
"We don’t stop playing because we grow old,
We grow old because we stop playing”
This famous Literary man George Bernard Shaw,
Was 94 years of age,
When he died in 1950
He wrote famous novels, poems
And plays for the stage,
But I will leave you with one other quote
Of his “Happy is the man who can
Make a living by his hobby”.
THE CRADLE OF MANKIND.
The archaeologists of this era
Were about to excitedly find
The Cradle of Mankind
Where the origins of humankind
Had been found, the news was about
To be revealed to the whole world
And so the ears of our globe were glued
To their radios in 1947, they heard,
About this mammoth remarkable finding
Painstakingly excavated , it’s evidence binding.
Mrs Ples’s skull was found,
And with carbon dating,
Archaeologists were rewarded
Most certainly worth waiting!
Estimated to be 2.3 million years’ old.
Mrs Ples (as the archaeologists named her)
All this time had been hidden
For many a year
But there is still more to hear!
It is said that she is the missing link,
We may each think what we want to think!
Archaeologists were about to discover
Other unbelievable phenomena,
Which supported the belief of evolution,
And steered many into total confusion!
God is omnipresent, and
The Alpha and Omega, He has been
Looking down on earth for millenniums
From the beginning of time,
He is omniscient, He believes in me,
And I in Him, He is the Divine!
The Sterkfontein caves are now famous,
Planet Earth was listening, this story was big!
In 1998 archaeologists discover
Yet another important find,
This boggled the mind!
They laboriously dug in this one excavation
Over twenty years, Layer upon layer of ground
And thus Little Foot was found!
He, some say it’s a she, was gently assembled,
And lies in a Pretoria museum,
Together with Mrs Ples,
Archaeologists still dig,
They insist, that there are still hidden treasures
And take great measures,
To work carefully and diligently
Excitedly say there is much more to find
Underneath and beyond the Sterkfontein caves,
Patiently, waiting to uncover
Yet another, one of a kind!
I believe with soul, heart and being
In The Almighty, maybe He even lent the
Archaeologists a helping hand, we cannot
Ignore these finds, they are not fantasy but real
Furthermore we were given the gift of logic,
And ultimately the archaeologists will kneel,
And praise and thank God Almighty!