Best Grand Prix Poems
My Dearest Lee…How we miss thee!
Please come back…here is our plea…
If you’d come back, we agree…
To eat cold Brussels sprouts and a pea
To swim across the Yellow sea
To take you on a shopping spree
To suck the stinger from a bee
To take you to Vail and let you ski
To shine your name on a marquee
To rig you kids’ spelling bee
To let you race in the Grand Prix
To arrange with the queen, afternoon tea
To kick Chris and Frank in the knee
To give up our glass of Chablis
To let you win every game of yahtzee
To run around naked, like a banshee
Lee, please come back and hear our plea
Then we will all be yellin’ “YIPPEE”
*Now Lee…we would never really kick Chris and Frank in the knee b/c we love them dearly but the rest is true :) We really miss your style of poetry…your message pieces…your unique way of telling a story. Please come back to us my dear.
By: Natalie The Rogue Rhymer :)
One evening Bob nervously said
I kinda like three in a bed
She said I’ve got friends
And each of them tends
To share the desires in your head
The next night as had been arranged
His ankles and hands were in chains
His lady walked in
With Rodney and Jim
And that kinda messed with his brains
His girl was a leather clad gimp
And Jim looked a bit of a wimp
Rodney said ducky
Time to get mucky
But Bob was decidedly limp
*
Time to collaborate...
First ‘up’... Jan Allison
Bob swallowed six Viagra whole
And soon was like a flag pole
Much to his delight
He stayed up all night
The threesome all enjoyed their roll
*
And from Tom Cunningham...
Poor old Bob was a pitiful sight
His girl decided to put things right
She produced a pump
And worked on his stump
And Bob was like a stallion all night.
Old Bob was so grateful for his girlfriend
But all things good always come to an end
With too much thumping
And all the humping
His thing deflated and started to bend.
*
And Belle Bellevue writes...
Bob went to see the doctor with his crick
Asking please could he do something with it
Doc gave it a jerk
That really hurt
But it became bigger after the visit.
That put a smile a mile wide on Bob's face
He strutted proudly all over the place
The more people looked
The longer he stood
With swollen head penetrating airspace.
Bob begged his girlfriend to bring some more in
The home fast becoming a den of sin
They came three by three
A sexy grand prix
Which ended up with Bob in a tailspin.
*
Mark Koplin adds...
Old Bob was a motherless soul
He liked bears, sheep and woodchuck holes
All three gave him a grin
On his chinny chin chin
Next time he’ll add a few moles
*
And Tania adds this...
Bob was enjoying being wildly bad
Posted a dating site with his fun add
So anxious he couldn't sleep
After being banned a creep
He was now left a frustrated poor lad
*
Some celebrate these three:
Faith, hope, and charity,
But I’m inclined to confess:
Joy, hope, and kindness --
Joy, a reward for faithfulness,
Hope brings future clarity
Kindness is the grand prix!
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written February 6, 2022
Especially for “Joy, Hope, and Kindness” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Angela Tune
Since the bloody Battle of Hastings
When 'Arold got killed by French Bill
We've seen an endless invasion of French
And I've just about had my fill
Don't we have enough words of our own
In this wonderful language of ours?
- To seek and find le mot juste
Dunt take much linguistic power
It seems using French has been with us forever
Passed down as a fait accompli
Have we ever really tried to change that?
Or have we always said "C'est la vie"?
But, to think that some long-dead bon vivant
With a certain je ne sais quoi
Used his chic tour de force to put words in our mouths
To me, it's a shameful faux-pas
So, I think we need a tête-à-tête
To form a clique, to mount a coup
Working together, en masse, as a team
We'll swap "Bonsoir" for "How Do"
Then (haute couture) won't be setting the trend
We'll watch racing, not the Grand Prix
No more art nouveau, or cordon bleu
And say "Enjoy your meal", not "Bon appétit"
I never have the soup du jour
Prefer prawn cocktail to poncy pâté
And I'll sit in a coffee house or caff
But never go in a café
Some say I should let it go and relax
Say choice of words is all laissez-faire
But can I stay calm on this bête noire of mine?
No, mes amis ~ au-contraire!
At British Wimbledon let's use "40-all"
Instead of being at deuce
And what's wrong with nil instead of love
Or am I being obtuse?
I know that we'll get nowhere
I sense there's no going back
That it's like being stuck behind burning sheep
Trapped in a cul-de-sac
But I suppose that it is nice to share
Good ideas and a word or two
Like Liberté and Égalité
And that feeling of déjà vu
And with le weekend, le booking, le check-in, le spam
And countless more, I say with a grin
That when we look at our counter-invasion
Even the French agree that we win!
A profession that's not the norm.
It borders on the absurd.
In the mountains and down the hollers,
powerful engines could be heard.
I decided to try something new.
Put my driving skills to the test.
Driving from Harlan County to Asheville,
It didn't end well, you might have guessed.
The city fathers got together,
figuring how to make it all work.
Everyone involved in this illegal trade,
from the mayor to the town clerk.
The hillbillies brew the dew.
Most of it safe, some burns red.
Uncle Jessie tried it once.
His eyes rolled back and he dropped dead.
Billie Ray had a hot rod '50 Ford.
Was a race car, lost more than it won.
We popped the trunk, man it was huge.
Perfect for the nightly Asheville run.
In the trunk was a steel tank.
Loaded hooch made the car ride low.
Truck springs took care of the problem.
Now the truck no longer hauls cargo.
Beneath the rear bumper were nozzles.
A switch inside made the oil flow.
When a revenuer was chasing you,
in the rearview, was quite the show.
I always wanted to drive.
Thought this life would be exciting.
Told to keep away from this game.
It's dangerous hauling white lightning.
Blazing out of Harlan County.
At first, it went fairly smooth.
Problems I planned for didn't happen.
I got settled into a groove.
Bo Duke, he would've been proud,
when I jumped the gap at Cumberland.
Crossed the stream at Maynardville.
The engine died, it's not going as planned.
I finally got it restarted.
Pretended I was driving the Grand Prix.
Ahead, I saw the tail lights of the g-man.
Oh, snap! they're supposed to be chasing me!
I pulled off the exit for Knoxville.
Checked the map, found Kingston Pike.
I heard this in a song before.
Outside of Bearden, they were planning to strike.
Kept going in spite of the tune.
There they were, waiting to spring.
Blocking the road, no way to get by,
I lost control, spun into this big electrical thing.
The car quickly caught fire.
The door was jammed, options were few.
It was like an atom bomb going off,
when the flames caught the Mountain Dew.
The next night, my funeral was held.
Played a song about some bird in a tree.
The car lights, they stretched for miles.
This life I guess was not for me.
Sebring: long ago
humid heat leaches will
blue lakes and brown swamps
“Caution Alligators”
transformative sunsets
clockwork storms and
lightning balls
cactus spine sabotage
fire ants flip flops
alligators eat marshmallows
from a stick
trees costumed in air plants
and Spanish moss
Grand Prix dreams
beaches buried deep in shells
green waters beckon
Jays riding my head
garden shed baby squirrels bouncing
people I've loved
O, the people I've loved.
07/23/2015
Young and single, just got a job in a neighbour town,
Thought I’d buy a flashy car so I could get around,
My boyfriend at the time said that I should get a Camaro,
It was new, orange and shiny, how could I be so narrow.
I crowned her Bess and drove her home with pride,
All my friends called, they wanted to go out for a ride.
Summer was so much fun, what a splash I was making.
Then gone, both summer and the boyfriend I was dating.
Winter rolled in with tons of snow and patches of ice,
Getting to work in my Camaro, was like rolling the dice.
Ol’ Bess would skid to the left and swerve to the right,
Wow, I held on to the steering wheel with all my might.
So I resigned that Bess was not good in cold weather,
Even with snow tires, she blew around like a feather.
Then suddenly a new quirk started as I turned on the key,
She spluttered, oh great, guess I won’t make the grand prix.
Bess would start well at times then for no good reason,
She’d stammer, then stop, reek of gas - in any season.
Bess and I visited many auto repair shops by way of a tow,
The carburetor was like a fountain, out of it the gas would flow.
Apparently a carburetor is needed to make Bess purr,
So I had it rebuilt, then replaced, oh the bills, what a blur,
Then a starter motor and strut, remember Bess is brand new,
After three years of aggravation, I traded her in, I was through!
Guess a cool single girl may look good in a splashy sports car,
But if your car doesn’t start or run, you won’t get too far.
So I put on my sunglasses, look cool but feel like a real wart,
As I drive to work in sleet and snow in my old Ford Escort.
Written for Contest “Driving Me Crazy”
Won 6th Place
Most people who meet her, consider her charming
But she has ghoulish traits, they’d find quite alarming
With her gleaming blonde tresses and sparkling blue eyes
Her cherubic features are just a disguise
For although she emits a celestial aura,
Angelic pastimes, quite simply, abhor her
Where other girls play with their ‘Barbie’ dolls
She has mystic wars with her hideous Trolls
Her peers, read Enid Blyton in Bed
She takes Stephen King, with his tales of the dead
And, when it comes to the movies she’s seen
A Nightmare on Elm Street, Hallow’een,
Poltergiest, Psycho, The Thing, The Blob too
These are just to name but a few
There’s nothing she likes more than a good ‘chiller’
With ghosts, ghouls and monsters, or psychotic killers
She watches the Grand Prix, to watch the cars crash
She loves to see the players fouled at a soccer match,
Ice skaters, she wills to fall flat on their faces
And athletes, when running, to trip on their laces
Yet, despite her having such a sick and perverse mind
She’s loving and caring, gentle, sensitive, kind
Unselfish and thoughtful, advanced for her ten years
Who on watching Disney films, has been known to shed a tear
Although she won’t admit to it, it’s only herself, she fools
And I wouldn’t change one inch of her, my ‘angelic’ little ghoul.
© Janette Fisher – April 1995
This poem was written 15 years ago when my youngest was 10 - she hasn't changed a bit!!!!
death’s pain the grieving know all too well
but I’ve another story to tell
near the end of days my friends remained
where their dignity was not defamed
hospice visits may be sad for some
but that’s not true for the dying one
nurses and visitors brought them cheer
as the white light was edging so near
we held our tears and gave them our smiles
when their life’s journeys had fewer miles
the last farewell was finally said
we carried our sorrows to our bed
but the hospice offered another round
volunteering – a chance to rebound
people in hospice like to listen
a smile sometimes, or tears that glisten
stories of romance, life and heaven
I’d read to them each night at seven
so quickly I came to realize
folks need escape, even in demise
the thankful expressions they gave me
made me feel like I’d won the Grand Prix
later I would come to call again
as Last Rites closed with the word “Amen”
letting go is just a part of life
but life’s end need not be filled with strife
*Written April 11, 2014
I enjoy reading through the New Poems List
Skipping only those who’ve proven a waste
Naming even ten, so many would be missed
I could never perform this exercise posthaste.
Skipping only those who’ve proven a waste
I find gems in the poetry of at least forty-three
Some of the best are naughty, others chaste,
Occasionally I find one worthy of a grand prix.
I find gems in the poetry of at least forty-three
Naming even ten, so many would be missed,
Occasionally I find one worthy of a grand prix
I enjoy reading through the New Poems List.
Written December 3, 2022
Submitted to "Three Best Poets" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet
[modified Pantoum to meet three-stanza
requirement]
Kare Adenegan
I love the city of Coventry ‘cos it’s disability friendly,
Since it houses Great Britain’s national disabled college,
As Hereward resides there with insight, policies bendy,
Towards its students who mainstream don’t admonish.
Kare who was only 15 at Rio comes from Coventry,
She schools at Bablake and has Cerebral Palsy true,
And, being excluded from the school sports gentry,
After the London Paras decided that sports she’d do.
So she joined one of the many wheelchair academies,
Which vibrate in Coventry and soon attended meets,
Where she could compete with national dungarees,
As a T34 sprinter to cheer the crowds off their seats.
Grand Prix final in London 2015, and she pushed hard,
Revolved those rubber tyres faster than ever she could,
And, unbelievably, she beat flat Hannah Crockroft bard,
To become the first in seven years to lower that hood.
Then in Doha 2015 IPC Worlds she steamed victorious,
When she won bronze in both the 400 and in the 800m,
And then in Rio 2016 she won one silver medal glorious,
Also two bronze, stealing the sprints for the UK by gaiters.
Indeed, both Hurricane Hannah and Kare Adenegan,
Come from Coventry because Hannah’s moved there
To study media at Coventry University. Respect began,
In the war recovery effort: for the disabled they’d care.
Andy is a wheelchair racer from Stockport,
Born a 1993 kid on the 6th day of January,
Who has serious nerve damage to report,
Which affects him neurologically, physically.
He went to Brine Leas School in Nantwich,
Which sits in Cheshire in good old England,
He studied at S Cheshire College to hitch,
But took to athletes after the London hand.
In 2014 he competed in the IPC Grand Prix,
In Switzerland, sprint and middle distance,
But in Rio he secured a bronze very elegantly,
For the 100m, a PB in the short time of 17.96.
Along with two of his team mates and fellows,
Dan Bramall and Carly Tait, Andy received,
A grant to buy a new wheelchair - perfectos,
From the Manchester Airport fund, relieved.
Richard Hoskins, head coach in Andy’s club,
Said “The purchase of the racing wheelchair
enabled…members to train intensely [hub],
…in the lead up to various competitions,” [fare].
Two bodies hanging from annihilated cars
Collided hearts
Crashed at the lips
Creating daydreams with the impact of their fingertips
Worlds bleeding onto the jagged spears of shattered windshields
Love forming on the merged, crumpled hoods; Love the bodies can't feel
A marriage in death
Exchanging vows in silent breath
You may kiss the bride, the stranger
Upon this altar of a devastated Pontiac Grand Prix and a mangled Jeep Wrangler
I enjoy reading through the New Poems List
Skipping only those who’ve proven a waste
Naming even ten, so many would be missed
I could never perform this exercise posthaste.
Skipping only those who’ve proven a waste
I find gems in the poetry of at least thirty-three
Some of the best are naughty, others chaste,
Occasionally I find one worthy of a grand prix.
I find gems in the poetry of at least thirty-three
I faithfully read every single poem they write,
Occasionally I find one worthy of a grand prix
If I listed three, I’d be certain to provoke a fight.
I faithfully read every single poem they write,
Genuinely impressed and moved by so many
If I listed three, I’d be certain to provoke a fight
For poets are a sensitive group, we’ve a-plenty.
Genuinely impressed and moved by so many
Naming even ten, so many would be missed
For poets are a sensitive group, we’ve a-plenty,
I enjoy reading through the New Poems List.
Written December 3, 2022
[Original version before it was
modified to fit three-stanza
requirement for contest.]
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY RICCARDO ('Ricky' in the Hollywood Hit 'Grand-Prix') ENZO-
FERRARI
Castles and Woods...Ivory and Diamonds...Necklines and Blue-Diamond-Knights!
Red and Blue...ROARS...SMOKE-LESS-ROYAL...NIGHTS!
Diamonds and DARK-NIGHTS...TEARS-AND-TORRENTIAL-RAINING!
TEARING...AND...FIGHTING!
RACING-PAINING-AND-FIGHTING...TO-ROYAL-FLIGHTS!
AND...TEARS AND DROPLETS OF...
ROYAL-RED-AND-BLUE-BLOOD!
Castles and Woods...Ivory and Diamonds...Necklines and Blue-Diamond-Knights!
Red and Blue...ROARS...SMOKE-LESS-ROYAL...NIGHTS!
TO BE CONTINUED