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Best Go Dutch Poems | Poetry

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Details | Go Dutch Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Saturn's Outer Rim

I sit here at the candlelit table in a silent plead 
Nineteenth century red wine is not what I need 
For I do believe I am beginning to hallucinate
Which means all my senses start to dissipate

I could swear the waiter was in the form of you
All the other guests gave me a familiar view
Each back of their head, the same blonde mop 
My eyes screwed up, still the feeling won’t stop 

I blink twice and look at my poor date 
He must think he’s in for a dire fate 
This crazy woman who now sits before him 
Looking like she belongs on Saturn’s outer rim

He reaches out to give me a worried grasp 
‘Are you alright?’
I respond with a dramatic gasp
I swore for a moment I saw your eyes 
As we now tuck into our shepherd pies 

‘Did I really order this?’ I said 
Was this off the menu I read?

He nodded his head, he looked to the ground
We sat there for 10 whole minutes without a sound 
‘What’s his name, the man that still has your heart?’ 
My lips begin to quiver, but they did not part 

I told myself I would never settle for contentment 
Nor live my life and wallow in my hearts resentment 
But is that what I am doing, tonight at this dinner?
Whilst my patience of my own mind wears thinner 

When all I really want is to be in your warm embrace 
To knock on your door, and see your handsome face
 
That’s what I’ll do! 

Oh god, I do feel rather dreadful for this poor man 
His romantic intentions haven’t quite gone to plan
He’s looking even more confused as I grab my clutch 
I rummage inside, it’s only fair if we go Dutch

‘I’m ever so sorry, but there’s someone I must see’
As I put down some money and begin my flee 
I run past the post office and the corner store 
Through the park I race, finally reaching your door 

I knock three times and wait, my head starts to pound 
What if he’s not in or worse, he has another girl round?
The light in the hallway comes on, my hands start to shake 
I bet she’s beautiful, wouldn't that be the icing on the cake 


The door opens, you greet my with a shocked expression 
I sigh heavily, not knowing how to state my intention 
‘I thought I’d just drop by for a late night chat’ 
That was the worst line ever, my conscience spat 

Oh if I don’t do it now, I might never get the chance!
I grab his shirt and pull him out of his shocked stance 
I press my lips to his and bring him back to our outer rim 
His hands on my back, I feel his mouth curl into a grin 



 



Copyright © Faith Carmichael | Year Posted 2014


Details | Go Dutch Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Country Song

I think I'll write a country song
about the weasel that 'done me wrong'
We'd have been married thirty years today
if he hadn't had a penchant to stray.

I got the pickup truck, so we'll leave that part out
but there's lots of other things I can whine about.
I can hit a few notes on this guitar of mine,
now I need to come up with some catchy line.

Country songs need to have a refrain,
something so catchy it'll stick in your brain.
They're all about liars and cheaters and such
and cheapskate dates who want to go dutch.

I'll make a fortune when my song's a hit.
My inspiration was my ex the ....jerk?
Yes, I think I'll write me a country song
about the weasel that 'done me wrong'.

I'll put in a verse about socks on the floor,
then casually mention his red-headed .... friend?
Maybe I'll say that he broke my heart
I'm still not quite sure where to start.

Most of what I write may even be true.
I could mention his cologne smells like... aqua velva?
Yes, I'm sure I can write one if I try.
It'll hit the charts and from there just fly.

I know I can write a country song.
Anyone can when they've lived this long.
We all have something twangy and sad,
something good in our past that turned out bad.


* any resemblence to actual events is purely coincidental

** and thanks Nancy for the blog that inspired this


Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2011


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This very minute

I need no contest to write a poem.
The soul of my heart is where I call home.
I just look inside this very minute.
And then I know that I can win it.

It's not that contests are not a good thing.
But competition and rules never make my heart sing.
I know a girl who writes everyday.
Inspired by contests, she has lots to say.

I love this involvement with rythem and rhyme.
My only complaint is, I've not enough time.
But if you've inspired me, thank you so much.
It's kind of like dating and having to go dutch.


Copyright © robert johnson | Year Posted 2012


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Rich

go dutch
not much


Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015


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Villanelle: How much is how near enough and yet not much

Villanelle: How much is how near enough and yet not much

How much is how near enough and yet not much
The measure of the cup is what the hand grabs
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch

Some take more than what is their share in one clutch
Most really take what comes trickling down for grabs
How much is how near enough and yet not much

Many such grow up never knowing what is much
Nor how the rich few make an art out of nabs
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch

Most make up the legions who for others march
Those who run the State run it for magnate flabs 
How much is how near enough and yet not much

Big fish eat shoals of small fish all in one munch
And the bigger they get all the smaller nags
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch

Yet everyone wants to dangle from the high hatch
E’en when there’s nothing much the Nation brags
How much is how near enough and yet not much
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch

(C) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018


Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2018


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My best Girl

Sweet Mary Jane
She's always there for me through thick and thin,
Even though she knows, she'll just get burnt in the end,
We've had this affair for quite some time,
She'll always be my partner in crime,
I don't mind that because of her, I'm often broke,
And it feels so right when she makes me choke,
Her beautiful red hairs, I adore so much,
My sweet girl, will indeed go Dutch,
She never complains when she's cleaned and picked,
I can't get enough of her, for her I am an addict,
Before we met, I never understood all the hype,
But now, I can't go too long without her in my pipe,
I'm not afraid to admit, I will never let my baby go,
She'll be, until the end of me, my best Ho.



Copyright © Brandy Hudler | Year Posted 2007


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All is well that ends well

Oh why so devastated in such a state
what to wear,  to say,  on my first date 
should I be early, oh must not be late
will she think I’m totally useless or great

perhaps take flowers, single rose or bouquet?
take her for a meal, go dutch or should I pay?
we are meeting in town, near the railway
must not mention marriage or Valentine’s Day,

I ticked every box, well groomed dressed to kill, 
standing outside saw her walking down the hill
quickly checked and popped in a fresh breath pill
greeted her, hello Jenifer, whoops her names Jill,

tried to apologise but started to shake and stutter 
then stepped back fell landed in the gutter
she looked at me said I think you need a cuppa
ended up in a cafe, a fry up with bread and butter.






Copyright © Roy Pett | Year Posted 2018


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Emerald

Emerald
Nmeri,
leaves of green. rose in red.
this star, twinkling white.
you are nature's rainbow who
paints her children with the colours of life.

Nmeri,
paint me red. paint me green.
In a nutshell, paint me with the pigment
of your skin for on its shell is Africa:
black, beautiful and bright. 

with you is a lean distance to the sun,
Nmeri
for with my eyes I behold 
the delicacy of your greenness;
newborn like foliage,
magnetic as the constellation of stars,
more frantic than the fineness of wine,
and with your crescent is a motif of our love divine.

with you, I know no war
be it The first or The second
or another to rise for with peace, 
I go Dutch in beds.
scared? I am yours, now a saint you savor
and tomorrow, of this same coin and not of blacks
you will know, I pledge.

Again I take this oath, green Jewel;
So long as the air is your life;
water, the root of your blood;
and land, the rock which keeps us from sinking, 
with you is forever a walk one framed.

Nmeri,
every time thinking of one pearl valuable
than gold I find none but You 
and with you will come admirations
not only on Tuesday's paradise
but on the pendulum's wings.


Copyright © 2018
IGIRI Victor



Copyright © Victor Igiri | Year Posted 2018


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A Witching Woods

A grove of trees, a witching wood, can almost hide day's light
And it's for sure, if you're alone, man's influence seems slight! 
Unless the negative is true, for men choose not to touch
This primal space you now enjoy, where man and God 'go dutch.'

A forest grove's a sacred place, world swallowed by a whale; 
Suggests that Bible's story's right, and not some dreamer's tale! 
A space we share with ancestors, absorb this if you can, 
God's providence, the world we share, is all God's gift to man! 

The dinosaurs preceded us and like us trashed the earth, 
Their poop too almost ankle deep (a metaphor of mirth!) 
Pollution might have killed them but an asteroid came first, 
(Part of God's plan, but not so smart) . Will our fate be so cursed? 

Did dinosaurs look at the stars and ever think of God? 
That man's first in the universe to dream this dream seems odd, 
For 'thought' is not just afterthought, if men will only try, 
And science one more gift of God, let heaven be blue sky! 


Brian Johnston
10th of June 2018







Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2018