Best Goer Poems
Unsung Hero – My Mom
My Mom has always been unassuming, never flashy,
But her name deserves to be up in bright neon lights.
My magnificent Mom, Olegaria, is my hero!
In her eyes, no one is a zero,
And she is a blessing to all who crosses her path.
Successfully raising her own five children,
She also helped to raise all the stray children in her neighborhood.
Her guiding motto is “You can’t believe in God and
Not care about others - whether it is people, plants, or animals.”
An extraordinary human being, generous to a fault,
She would give her last slice of bread
To anyone who needed to be fed.
Nothing, including her time, is too good or too precious
To share with family, friends, and even strangers.
Often she’d sacrifice her own happiness,
If it meant that others would be happy.
While Mamacita is very humble, forgiving, and non-judgmental,
She is nobody’s fool and can be a fierce lioness,
Quick to defend her values and those she loves.
Caring mothers like her are especially rare today,
And should be declared national treasures.
Because of her powerful influence and the solid values she instilled,
I am a stronger, kinder, more conscientious, and better person.
My Mom helped me to see life in a more positive
And compassionate way – to treat people
How I would like to be treated.
Even though she is not a regular church-goer,
She prays several times daily and her home is her altar.
I thank God every day for blessing me with this wonderful mother,
And for her continued presence in my life.
Mom, you will always be my hero!
07-30-2014
Contest: Tell Us About Your Mom (12-28-2015)
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Placement: 1st
Contest: Unsung Hero (07-31-2014)
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Placement: 1st
Categories:
goer, appreciation, hero, love, mother,
Form:
Free verse
"Curls...
Of spring passion?
Lacerations of decadence?
coiled in ringlets at the nape of her neck-
light wrapped in strands iridescent and bent
toward her silhouette's kiss.
Shadows on a match box painting
absorbing the skin and silk shed cloth."
Frozen air movement shakes me awake
as another museum goer
brushes by my sleeve in an attempt to read
the description... (I am nose close...)
Tremendously, I pull myself away
to the Hallucinations of a Toreador
pulling the scope out on my looking glass,
for one is finely tuned, painted with the single hair of a wishing bow...
and one is the size of my heart, unraveled and sky scraped,
and yet remarkably blurred to initial understanding.
I toss aside propriety and sit down on the ground,
Indian style, in front of grandeur-
a mist of streaming people dissipating my vision
of the surreptitious melting clocks, oozing time
all over the floor, soaking my favorite shoes...
And so I pass the afternoon alive,
briefly breathing in the dusty air and DNA of genius.
Categories:
goer, art, happiness, people,
Form:
Free verse
I was a torpedo, skimming the surface
of the green summer sea; I was a mountain,
touching the clouds at the summit, where
Frozen ice-pools lay. I was a crumpet, soaking
the butter of chat and cream tea. I was a musical
note, a skirling pipe, causing a dance in Firelight. I
Was a lover, loving in a plush hotel room, every day.
I was a massage, muscles bending, relaxing, in sweet
scented room. I was a cinema goer; drinking the flicks
With Milan, De Niro and Munro. I was a free man, away
from work, and bosses and targets too. I was a beach,
with white sand and too much drink. And, like the
Torpedo; I was a poem I wrote; which skimmed the
surface and made me feel free.
15/4/2015
Written for the Vacation contest 15/04/2015
Categories:
goer, angst, best friend, happiness,
Form:
Free verse
I'd go to church
Every Sunday
Often find myself there
On Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Friday
oh! what am I but just a glorified Church goer;
A modified, glorified, pew sitter;
Oh! God, help me, Lord;
I don't wanna be just a pew sitter;
Praising you inside this church building;
whom am I but just a forgiven sinner;
I should be more than a pew sitter;
When I leave a church I should be a soul winner;
Not just a holy than tho! Christian just chilling;
oh! what am I but just a glorified Church goer;
A modified, glorified, pew sitter;
Oh! God, help me, Lord;
I don't wanna be just a pew sitter;
I need to be the church, be uplifting;
Be a witness, be forgiving;
Feed the poor, help the elderly;
Be the eyes, hands and feet of God;
Be all I can be;
oh! what am I but just a glorified Church goer;
A modified, glorified, pew sitter;
Oh! God, help me, Lord;
I don't wanna be just a pew sitter;
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Categories:
goer, analogy, appreciation, caregiving, encouraging,
Form:
Lyric
Static......
Radioactive man is cool.
His brain is fried
but he still wears chinos.
It is sixteen days
since the bomb dropped,
not many people lived
but radioactive man did.
He is dazed and confused
but alive.
He staggers about,
not knowing
he is glowing.
The radio static
claims lots
of things.
Like....
The Russians
are like sour grapes.
A bad bunch.
No need to be that bad
though.
Claims static.
Radioactive man
shouts words.
"Let them lead what
I can"t have
down
the
path
of
righteousness."
Sigh, he must
have been
a church goer.
He will be dead
in two hours.
But the radio
wont know.
Nobody will.
Well, maybe God.
Oh and the Russians.
Categories:
goer, war
Form:
Prose Poetry
Given the once over by the Sister,
The church goer and the tower,
Of Christian family morality and life,
Of character for faith and social power.
Understanding fundamentalism well,
And having grieved myself thoroughly,
I took the three sessions that were offered,
Albeit waveringly, hesitantly.
So I glided through the conversation,
Understood the Sister’s fears,
That me and James were an item,
That he did have carer gears.
So I said that we were close (once),
And that he fed me often at tea,
And every Saturday lunch time,
He was my carer affectionately.
But I had to validate myself,
By disclosing that my dad attended,
To me sometimes for some things,
In the evenings normally when he was handed.
But she scowled and brushed with her hand her face,
Expecting me not to note her query,
About my mother as my sole carer,
Because of religious assumptions dreary.
But I assured her that I got male care too,
And worried about the consequences,
Because I then concluded she’d been told,
That only my mother did the care exercises.
I found my mother pretentious,
In the question of care domination, control,
She wanted to exemplify Christian purity,
And fulfil her Christian wife role.
But at the end of the three hours,
After the three counselling sessions for bereavement,
The Sister thought I’d by ok in the future,
And that of my life there would be no temporary adjournment.
But when you lie, things just don’t work out,
So I exploded three weeks later,
At Charlie about her psychological model,
Said that I was gone, a gater.
So he talked to me about James,
And to him I managed to say I was ok,
Because I had grieved and then gone on from that,
Knowing that the weeks would bring a better day.
He told me to talk to him in the future,
For bereavement counselling,
But I felt the Sister’s disapproval,
Upon my back when leaving.
That was fine, to reject the church decisively,
To illuminate their lack of perception,
About life’s real issues: death, effort and love,
So I was happy to be from then to her a complication.
Categories:
goer, death, health, psychological, relationship,
Form:
Rhyme
Before I date I wish I had a crystal ball to consult,
Then I could ply it with questions for a quick result.
He claimed he was honest, a church-goer, and a stand-up guy,
But all his smooth words was just a pie in the sky.
He wined and dined me, and a pledge of love he made.
But not long after, I realized it was just an unscrupulous charade.
One night he sent a risqué text to me in error, intended for his wife.
He was not divorced, and had a whole other life.
A crystal ball would have saved me from all his lies.
He wasn’t trustworthy, and had lying eyes.
He is single now and after me constantly for a second chance.
I said, “Take a hike… I don’t want your song and dance.”
Categories:
goer, betrayal, boyfriend, break up,
Form:
Rhyme
She woke with a gradual start in the muddle of the night,
her large bed seemed so empty that she almost took flight
in search of a new man who might stay right till the end
and not be the type that drove her foggily round the bend…
Yes, she thought of many cliches with her own little twist,
like how frogs turned into perfect men if they were kissed,
but as she was no princess they might not be be a prince,
more likely they would become a toad and thus make her wince…
Life has many twists and churns for a milkmaid she thought.
as she dressed for the party in a C3PO costume she bought
from a passing Millennium Falcon flown by a great hairy ape
though she didn’t know it was Harrison Ford out for a jape…
At the party she tried to mingle with Dracula whose rubber teeth,
got caught in her plastic clad neck which rather damaged belief,
that any other party goer might have had in his being at all real,
as an ageing vampire without bloody fangs has very little appeal…
Later when she walked back home feeling so alone once again,
her shiny costume caught the moonlight & a man yelled out in pain
as his bicycle hit the kerb and he flew through the air into her arms,
so she took him home to unclip her costume and learn of her charms…
The rest of the story is quite beyond any behaviour I've ever known,
yet it is quite true that since that fateful night their bonds have grown,
for he wears handcuffs and leg irons as he carries her breakfast tray.
then after she’s unlocked them, their favourite games they will play…
So bear in mind as you wander through the very many streets of life,
that the map has not yet been printed to show you the way as a wife,
or as a husband if that is the appropriate gender for your good self,
keeping your eyes peeled for a new spouse is so good for your health…
©Rhumour
September 3rd 2015
Categories:
goer, fun, love, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
I am: A lady-My mama saw to that.
I am: An American- So proud of my nation.
I am: A widow- I buried two husbands.
I am: A mother. I bore three beautiful children.
I am: A grandma- I have six grand children.
I am: A great-grandma- I have 12 great-grandchildren.
I am: A great-great grandma.. I have seven great greats.
I am: A Christian.. My folks were believers.
I am: A Lutheran. Same church for fifty years..
I am: A church goer. I never miss a Sunday except now in pandemic.
I am: A gardener. Formerly vegetable. Now flowers.
I am: A garden club member from local to National level.
I am: A certified flower judge. For forty years.
I am A Washingtonian. I've lived here since 1943.
I am: A North Dakotan. Born and raised there.
I am: A rural resident. I live alone on my farm.
I am: An author. I have published a book of poems.
I am: A reader. I love books.
I am: A retired person after 30 years same job.
I am: An old person. I will be 102 on 7/7/20.
Categories:
goer, age, birthday,
Form:
List
I worked for Boeing when I first met Fred
Liked him the instant he called me “brain dead”
We were both part of the same office mob
Both engineers fairly new on the job
I was single then, but didn’t last long
Got married and then my Corvette was gone
Being married soon my budget was tight
When Fred said, “Let’s car pool”; I said, “Alright”
Fred drove first on our initial commute
The car he was in, was tiny and cute
“It’s a Vespa”, he said, “easy on gas”
I’m thinking, “In a wreck, I’ll lose my ass!”
The engine inside was like a lawnmower
A small two stoker, but still was a goer
It wasn’t long before carpooling died
Fred could drive so cheap, all I did was ride
What Fred charged was ridiculously small
And on every commute we had a ball
Other commuters would stare at the car
Till finally I said, “This has gone too far”
If someone stared, we’d talk about their car
Really loud, so they’d hear something bazaar
It was always a put down of some kind
We got really good at it over time
Every trip to work and back, we had fun
Except an earthquake hit while on one run
Seeing telephone poles sway to and fro
Just wasn’t my bag, I want you to know
From his house to mine, wasn’t very far
I played the uke and Fred played guitar
We’d get together; play and sing a song
Our friendship today is still very strong
Just as we are close friends, so are our wives
We’ll be that way for the rest of our lives
Space between triglyphs in a Doric frieze?
If you see Fred, ask for an answer please!
(I’d sooner Lipton!)
Categories:
goer, friendship, car, , cute,
Form:
Quatrain
What are my pronoun options?
The conference goer asked
He, she, it, they – anything you want – make one up even - the friendly greeter declared!
The conference goer asked the greeter if 'he' should really be an option as a pronoun choice
You know, with the issue of the generic 'he' that we all suffer
The greeter was confused and stunned with what was thought to be backlash from the conference goer
A security guard was called and the goer tried to explain the rationale for the statement
You know, that we hear and use 'he' so much that it actually impacts equality in our society
The security guard would hear none of it
This conference is over for you - the security guard shouted!
He or she or they handcuffed the goer and put he or she or they -- or you can make one up
In the squad car
Categories:
goer, gender, irony, language, words,
Form:
Free verse
Unlike the pond life living here
you're the one I hold most dear
knowing you're mine makes me the glad one
I'd give you my heart if only I had one.
A nucleus is all I've got
trapped in a body like a pool of snot.
Though my looks won't cause surprise
as neither of us have been blessed with eyes.
I treasure your touch, and that's not sarcasm
there's nothing like the feel of ectoplasm.
I'm Solomon, you're my Queen of Sheba
for me you'll always be my darling amoeba.
Graceful and slender, a bit of a goer,
one mighty fine super-slime protozoa.
* Just an example of what I'm looking for in the contest I've submitted, folks, although I'm sure you'll do better. Viv *
Categories:
goer, humor, love,
Form:
Rhyme
I was outside in my shed with my lawnmower in bits,
doing some repairs, for lately the mower’s miss and hits,
and getting me riled up because the darn thing wouldn’t start,
so that is the reason why I have pulled it all apart.
Lawnmowers can be fickle so can drive me damn insane,
so please do not come inside my shed, adding to the pain,
by asking what’s the matter before handing out advice;
if you do I promise you; you won’t get to tell me twice.
I was in a happy mood cleaning or replacing parts,
believing this could be my fixer and the mower starts.
With my first pull upon the rope and then complete the task,
then my daughter stepped into the shed, with something to ask.
It’s not a query I’ll admit that sits comfy with me.
My daughter wants to know how new born babies come to be.
I told her Adam and Eve made babies and it went from there.
Their babies grew; had babies too; now my daughter knows where.
She left leaving me to concentrate upon the mower,
and I’m sure my explanation had to be a goer,
but in no time at all, my girl pushed me into the mire;
glared at me with steely eyes and was calling me a liar.
“Mum told me you’re not being truthful and added in a flash,
we evolved from monkeys and what you said, was completely trash.
Why did you tell me lies?” But my reply has vindicated me,
“Your mum was talking about, her side of the family”.
Categories:
goer, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
The Obsessive Theatre Goer
Culture
Vulture
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Stand Alone Footle
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Placed 2nd
© 21st November, 2017
Categories:
goer, art,
Form:
Footle
Sea monster emits
screams to frighten beach-goer...
as an angel weeps.
Entered in Carolyn Devonshire's contest,
" Nature's Revenge "
Categories:
goer, imagination, places, sea,
Form:
Senryu