Best Gents Poems
It was a token gesture
A hand he offered me
Emerging from my cab
Stormy night in the city
I didn’t know his name
But I’ll not forget his face
For he helped me gently
To a safer place
Blue eyes and thick black hair
He stepped in the rain-filled gutter
To close the taxi door
But not a word did he utter
Just a simple kindness
Like those of olden days
When gentlemen ensured
Ladies’ safety always
Now I’m a modern gal
And oh-so independent
But I stared in awe
At my hero so resplendent
As he turned to walk away
My impulse was to give a hug
But I just touched his jacket
And gave his sleeve a tug
“Thank you,” I whispered
Captivated by his smile
And how I wished within my heart
That he would stay awhile
He simply waved, then walked on
Disappearing into the rain
Since that night I’ve prayed
I’d meet this man again
But this kind token gesture
Recalled courtesies now rare
And I am pleased to say
Such tokens gents still share
*March 22, 2021
As I walk through the doors of the hall,
I am swept off my feet by such flare.
When I think that tonight’s my first ball,
How I blush thinking thoughts I don’t dare.
Lovely music pours out of the room,
And my hips sway beneath my pink gown.
Mom’s eyes seek a potential bridegroom
Dad’s eyes stop, my swaying with a frown.
Ushered in the big room my eyes dance
As they rush over grandeur so bright
Chandeliers they brought over from France
Fill the room bringing splendour and light
On the sidelines I can’t help but stare
Pretty walls lined with roses and vines
Sweetest scents of Guerlains fills the air
As the ladies and gents sip their wines.
Fine madam’s gowns blend in with the walls
And the heavenly ceiling divine
Pastel angels and blue waterfalls
Someone begs me to dance just in time.
As we twirl on the dance floor I’m charmed
Looking into his eyes, I turn red
And I’m weak in this young man’s strong arms
Looking up angels spin round my head.
All too soon my first ball has to end
Sweetest dreams I shall cherish tonight
When I think of my newly found friend
Just the thought of him brings such delight
Anapest Trimeter
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
11.27.2014
Sponsor Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Ballroom Delights
1st place
May the first is traditionally the beginning of Spring
St Joseph is their patron saint this day to be
the only free day when no workers joined
the throng of people shuffling looking already tired
to wherever they work, eyes down still shut tight
Make them work long hours you will find
was their bosses right.
May Day the food was prepared with what money they had
try to find some newish clothes to wear,
though second or third hand.
Their beautiful daughters would wash their hair
then brush it until it gleamed
a small flower was placed with utmost care
A maypole is placed in the village square
With bright coloured ribbons dangling there
The fiddler would play, soon up stepped the gents
follwed by the maidens, with no lover as yet
They weaved and they bobbed shouting with glee
Many a romance started when they danced happily
At the side the morris men would dance
Jiggling their bells sending you into a trance
All made for a happy day, set in your memory
making you smile for another year
before a day free
The may queen was chosen some blushing young beauty
Crowned with a ring of flowers and a small bouquet
She would dance for the people in a small ring
waiting to see who wrote and would recite the winning madrigal
May first brings the spring and buds bursting into flowers
A trillion small petals like a shower would flutter down
the myriad it makes brings a smile to your eyes
Cheers everybody it's spring,
our bodies need this time to relax and survive
Penned 10 April 2015
* madrigal. - a short love poem
Picture taken by an old friend Dave Chang who gave me permission to use it.
TOP GUN.
A keen jet pilot broke the speed of sound
A loud sonic boom he caused on the ground
House windows were broken
The whole town awoken
Claims from lawyers to the air force abound...
SANTA ON THE RUN
Santa got pulled over on the highway
Cops told him a light had gone on his sleigh
Santa said I'm in a rush
Cracked his whip shouted mush mush
The reindeers galloped off up and away...
QUEUE FOR THE LOO (FICTIONAL WRITE).
Have you noticed there is always a queue
Not outside the gents, only the girls loo
Business takes a minute
What do they do in it ?
They spend time gossiping that's what they do...
BILLY BLACKSMITH.
Billy the blacksmith was stoking his fire
The next horse up for shoeing was a shire
Then blacksmith Billy felt
A kick below the belt
Now high pitched is soprano in the choir...
INDUSTRIAL ACTION.
The reindeer decided to go on strike
Made demands that old Santa didn't like
He said it's Christmas eve
And I've soon got to leave
So he sacked them and rode off on his bike...
Written 19th November 2019.
I can't believeth all the things I seeth:
the streets with such strange vehicles which wend
their way so apace liketh those gents fleeth
as metal lions. Nev'r has't i penn'd
a sonnet on such vehicles and highways.
Nev'r has't i hath felt so unbelieving.
I might not but tryeth to traveleth all byways.
Above me in the sky, huge birds art leaving.
Of metal too art those gents, which art of charm.
Oh, mine own, the females showeth their flesh,
and how the men art causes me alarm.
And lo, the air! How can the folks refresh?
Tall buildings, so few farms, and such big towns.
So crazy art the folks h're and their sounds!
Jan. 21, 2023 for Anoucheka Gangabissoon's Shakespeare in 2023 Contest
Translated into Shakespearean English
using English to Shakespearean Translator - LingoJam
(I can't be sure that it's exactly right, but I am hoping this is how they actually talked in those times. To understand my poem better, you can go to Lingojam and just reverse the process translating Shakespearean English back into Modern English!)
Gradually life became about survival
suddenly my friends became my rivals
don’t see them now, think they’re my enemies?
That they'll never be, they’re treasured memories.
Would I go back and alter?
Maybe small altercations
but feel forever blessed to
have had friends so amazing.
And though some did me wrong
maybe I did them too
we’ll leave that stone unturned
to preserve and not chew.
In all fairness to have had our paths link up for so long,
creating so much before it all went wrong
is really rare and special,
we lived on the same level,
the pitfalls and perils
as we smoked ourselves sterile.
On different paths now
as our distant laughs sound
in memories less loud
a group of friends once proud.
These people I can never side against,
how the power of the past prevents,
can never hate these ladies and gents,
after all they made up my greatest events.
Because...
Over time life becomes about survival,
suddenly your friends become your rivals,
don't ever allow them become your enemies,
walk away and keep them as good memories,
because one kind not to store in your memories,
are the many you meet out to be enemies,
these people are nothing but your rivals,
keep your friends your friends it aids survival.
CRAZE DURING FOOTBALL GAME
Up yellows; greens; reds and blue,
tell me! Tell me, who is through?
Passes. Crosses. Headers. Shots.
Volleys, blasters, more scissor kicks
tell me! Tell me, whose on the spot!
Ninety minutes with some overtime
eleven players playing in the field
each one targets to be World Champ!
The strikers and defenders immense
so are Audience claps, dance, rants!
Dripping sweat from turning, running
Tension rising! Twists are rocketing!
Audience wriggling, nonstop cheering!
Thriller, action, comedy plus tragedy,
Oh all are drawn by its classic drama.
Perplex hard attacks, clever corners
rise from a penalty or free kick yell!
Elicits an alarm to goalie keepers' eye
He in eagle's arms and kangaroo leap
Tell me! Tell me, has one scored a goal?
Around the globe, fellas or gents in craze,
amazed and tantalized by Football game!
_________________________________________________
Written 6th of July, 2018 @ 10:46am
His heart was black, but I didn't
know.
I needed him, but he said no.
Everything I ever was was stolen by
his addictive drug.
I gave him my love and more with a
cost.
I'll never get back all I've lost.
I begged him to stay and love me
back,
but what I got in return was worse
than a smack.
My love now gone was lain to bed
when he lied and said, "You're mine
to wed."
A lying snake he was, but I
was still lured in by his lullaby.
Six times too many I was his.
Six times too many I was tricked.
I hate myself, I hurt myself.
I hope someday I kill myself.
For taking advantage was easily
executed from him to me.
So, as I lie upon the floor,
the blood will seep, it will pour.
Until I snap back into reality ,
my arms will scar most erratically.
I hate myself, I hurt myself.
Sometimes I isolate myself.
From your clutches I'll be free, but
only if I flee to sea.
Yet, the boat I sail will only sink,
thanks to my unending misery.
The waves crush my bones and cut
my skin, tearing me limb from limb.
I hate myself, I hurt myself.
Again, I'll try to kill myself.
My love has no idea what he
has done to the old Destiny.
But, no longer will I thrash and cut.
The feelings will all melt away
as soon as I kneel down to pray.
My Lord has brought me up anew,
but darkness Will fall back on
through.
Lucifer and his devilish gents will
not stop, they will not rest.
Until they tear my lonely heart bit
by bit... apart...apart...
I hate myself, I hurt myself.
When will I stop disappointing
myself?
Written by Maurice Yvonne and Seren
Crack that whip, jerk the line,
Let's start dancing it's no time to dine.
First you holler, then you sing
All join hands and make a ring.
Now if you please circle wide,
spread right out like an old cow hide.
Feed the Hogs, brand the calf,
Swing your honey once and a half
Now you switch on the heel and toe
Come gals and cowboys, don't be slow.
Allemande left with the corner maid,
Meet your own and promenade.
Everybody swing and whirl
Swing 'round and 'round with your pretty little girl.
Do si do don't you know,
You can't grab a rabbit until there's a snow.
Bow to you partner and the corner miss,
To the opposite lady just blow a kiss.
Chicken in the bread pan scratching out gravel,
get your maid & away you travel.
Lassies to your seats and gents you foller
Thank the fiddler and kiss the caller
Dated 11 October 2014
AFTER HOURS
Dudes in duds broken down brims
cocked and bent creases in trousers
when thugs were gents
People with attitude women too
demeanor and outfits like
Ebony's front pages
Dudes in duds broken down brims
Money on backs eyes watching
the eye's of watchers
Entrances and exits.
Wink or nod jazz in smoky
rooms groomed and manicured.
sashay across the room stepping off in
Bally's shoes shined no scuff
after hours.
high profile.. Dudes in duds
broken down brims.
Men creating temporary illusions
Clean to the bone
deliberate sashay tempo exaggerated
tempting and teasing pleasing the eye
karat's on fingers scents linger
Exquisite cologne clean to the bone
faded edges -role playing no script
Dudes in duds
Broken down brims cocked and bent.
Attitude in threads
We wait to be called in that back room
Where they'd spit "Gangsta Wit".
before videos
Was dudes in duds with sweet tongues
making their points in after hour joints.
Live and direct we upstarts
learning our parts we'd sit
internalizing gangsta wit
like understudies to a movie script
In after hours joints........... delighted...
Two sisters it seems lived near Bowling Green;
Each a beauty in every way.
One fair it is told with hair of pure gold,
Eyes blue as the sky in May.
The other brunette, the lovely Collette,
With eyes a deep, warm brown.
Two beautiful girls with masses of curls,
The most sought after girls around.
Wherever they went they turned heads and gents,
Would follow it seemed in their wake.
They were ladies of leisure, used to parties and pleasure,
And their father spared nought for their sake.
A young man came their way one fine summer day.
Debonair and handsome was he.
He charmed his way in, with each sister he sinned;
But he'd learn that their favors weren't free.
Their father was wealthy, his bank account healthy.
The young man thought he'd hit his mark;
But to his dismay he found out that day,
To dally with these girls not smart.
Behind him he'd left many hearts bereft,
And he thought the sisters the same;
But together they came and called out his name,
And their family knew who to blame.
'Tis a very small man who will take a girls hand,
Then leave her ashamed and in tears.
To be left in the mud covered with blood,
Would now be the least of his fears.
Because of deception they'd shared his affection,
Now he would deal with their father.
The old man cried out with a mighty shout,
And the young man began to grow smaller.
A small man I see, a small man ye be,
And never no more shall they see ye.
In a prison ye'll live in a prism I give,
To my daughters where they will keep thee.
There is no escape, this is your fate.
For your crimes now you'll pay the fee.
Ye'll live in the locket I draw from my pocket,
Until they no longer desire thee.
The sisters would share it, each one could wear it,
And he would be theirs forever.
Trapped in the locket he took from his pocket,
Because of his wicked endeavors.
Now the sisters it seems visit him in his dreams,
So he isn't too lonely at all.
Though filled with depression he's their prized possession,
Trapped in that little gold ball.
Kept locked in his prison to madness he's driven,
And the sight of it leaves them in stitches.
Never play fast and loose or attempt to misuse,
The tender affections of witches.
The longest shadows start and end the day
like thoughts that creep from embryo to grave
so here within the midday sun we pray
to not be where the shadows misbehave.
But even in the bliss of summer highs,
bold thunder clouds roll in to snap and sneer.
When daunting lightning fractures purple skies,
its striking beauty slays instinctive fear.
A child has dreams of what life may become,
as elders wish they'd captured all those dreams,
but in the midst of life we all succumb
to fate and its bizarre unwritten schemes.
Yet in the face of unexpected pain,
we have the strength to confiscate the quill,
to change the tune of fate's unsung refrain.
Then, from our daring hearts, the ink will spill.
It drips on clefs that show us what to sing:
a world of notes that paint eternal spring.
This is a heroic sonnet that I wrote with Craig Cornish, one of my favourite gents here on PS!
I wrote verses 2&4 and line 2 of the couplet
Craig wrote verses 1&3 and the first line of the couplet
At first he drank to be one of the boys
To act a bit rowdy, to make some noise
He couldn't resist all the teen peer pressure
Just couldn't say 'No;' had to say 'Yes sir'
Off to college he went to the land of beer tents
Where drinking's the pastime of well-educated gents
Our hero could be found, where pop-tops did sound
Stumbling drunkenly around, or face down on the ground
Armed with a degree, into the world of business he marched
Just like in college, he found his throat dry and parched
At midday he made time to imbibe a liquid lunch
From Monday to Friday, he dipped his cup in the pun
One rain-pouring day, he wobbled to his car
Jumped on the freeway, to fight the rush-hour war
Only this time, reflexes, lulled to sleep by drink
He drove into the guardrail, and his life went 'clink'
His family and friends feigned surprise at the news
They didn't believe what you can lose when you booze...
Seems like certain politicos toss about the f---word thinking they're cute!
Didn't their mommies teach them that real ladies and gents of good repute,
Don't express themselves in public in such a disgraceful manner and so crudely?
"Profanity is the effort of a feeble brain to express itself lewdly!"
With eyelids shut, old boyfriends of mine kissed
my lips unwhetted, so it’s no surprise
to me the romance in my life I missed
because so many guys just close their eyes.
Those men who pressed like wolves, eyes always closed,
cared not to understand or love my heart.
While making out with them, I nearly dozed!
How rare must be the man who knows the art
of looking long with gaze unwavering
and softly brushing mouth against the cheek,
who gently teases in his savoring
as only eyes and tracing fingers speak.
How sweet the magic seldom loosed in me
by those few gents who simply knew to see.
Sonneteer55/ Dec. 23, 2011
Using my yahoo pseudonym for the "S"
of Sonnet form.
For David Williams' "Romance" Poetry Contest