Best Group A Poems


Premium Member Characterization

Our two party system isn’t working
Plastic figures, disaster lurking
Conservative or liberal isn’t the call
It’s the ultra rich against us all
For the people is what it’s not
All candidates have already been bought
Platforms built on promises and lies
Hear the people, ignore their cries
Wave that flag as if you’re proud
Then bow and worship the corporate crowd
You no longer serve, you’re out of place
You are an elitist group, a public disgrace
You’ve subsidized the rich with your insanity
Then crippled the growth of humanity
You’ve killed our children in endless war
The media smiles and keeps the score
We sing of amber waves of grain
You’d sell it all for personal gain
You left our budget in disarray
You’ll tax our grandchildren for it someday
No water boarding terrorists you warn
Then murder a child who is still unborn
You have no ethics, you have no shame
You have no morals, you accept no blame
Washington is a place I’m told
Where politicians are bought and sold
Where dreams and ideals are destroyed
A city where honesty is null and void
A place where hope has been dethroned
You won’t get nominated unless you’re owned
A place where once” In God we trust”
Now we look in sheer disgust
Country burning from your sparks
You replaced Uncle Sam with Karl Marx
Our nominees we cannot select
The media decides who we elect.
Politicians with great orations
Puppets to the corporations.

I Wish I Weren'T An Ant

I WISH I WEREN’T AN ANT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS



I wish I weren’t an ant, my survival rate is scant
Done in by a pesticide, or a shoe, as I gallivant
A solitary figure, when I roam, I am seldom seen
In Africa, in motion, we’re a devastating machine

But that’s not my fate, I’m a sentinel at the gate
Guarding the queen laying eggs at an alarming rate
When I’m on a hunt for food I always leave a scent
So I can find my way back home in rapid descent

I may be small, but  I can lift twenty times my weight
Orts, meat, leaves or carcasses are typical freight
We are constantly on the hunt for sugary sweets
When acting in groups we perform incredible feats

That’s enough about me, I’ve got kin you need to see
They’re called fire ants once upon you it’s no mercy
They overwhelm you, stinging, causing great pain
Stumble across their mound; your distance maintain

I’ve got giant kinsmen that are in our tribal clan
Called carpenter ants habituating across the land
Their name may give that group a sense of glamour
I ask you, ever seen an ant carrying a hammer?

We are always busy, maintaining a colony means work
Soldiers, drones, workers, none allowed duty to shirk
But always being busy causes my legs to get sore
I’d like to be someone else, like the majestic condor 

Soaring high over the Nazca plains in southern Peru
Seeing geoglyphs visible only from an aerial view
I’d glide, dive and do inside n outside double loops
High above Andean peaks with frightening swoops
But alas that’s a daydream of mine nary to be seen
As I forage seeking food for our egg laying machine

Conflict Within

Humans are animals, same as the rest.
We sprung up from the same womb as all animals do.
What makes us different is what’s in our heads. We think, we plan, we build, we progress.
Human minds have grown to allow us all this.
We are wired at birth, with much have no choice.
Much of our group a composite mess.
Our animal instincts are deeply entrenched.
Civilization evolved to offer guidance and control.
We are in constant conflict as how to behave.
Our biology says one thing civilization says no.
Cats, dogs and chimps have no courts to say they did wrong, it’s instinct that drives them along.
It’s simpler for them.
Human struggle continues from now till who knows when.
© Jg Collins  Create an image from this poem.


Another Day At Bmcc

Students walking around 
chatting, laughing
    I just gave a group a 
test
   The weather is cold out - at 
least it is warm in here
    it is warm in here
        I believe I will keep 
this job a while more 
    The time has come 
for me to show a poem
   to some students and facult y
at this institution 
Hope they like it! 
  No money in poetry 
       But it is a damn good way to 
   socialize
        Let the dark winds 
blow where they will
      BMCC is still here 
Instructing thousands of people 
   from many different lands

With Good Purpose

What Is The Reason For Creation?



The future will bring unexpected things,

 A woeful tragedy our heart to sting,

 And though our plans be laid so well,

 A power, from where we cannot tell,

 Moves, or turns circumstance around,

 Here giving joy there bringing a frown.



 An insignificant spark, a slippery spot,

 An induced germ, a misplaced dot,

 Can turn someone, a group, a horde,

 To bring about peace or bare the sword.



 What say ye then, my wise friend you;

 Is it blind fate and a little luck too:

 Some random power to tip the scale,

 And bring forth heaven or show us hell?



 Concerning the puzzle of seeming happenstance,

 Can you of the future perceive a glance?

 Has it reason or design at all,

 Can man influence how 'fate' must fall?



 How helpless then we tend to be,

 If we be pawns in a random sea,

 Where utmost effort is brought to naught,

 A battle comes that would not be fought,

 And all this turns on the merest flick,

 Of someone's seeming uneventful trick.



 Who can approve such an absurd display,

 Of struggling mankind's efforts made,

 And undone by a change of wind,

 The toss and turn of chance to send?



 I will not accept such an odd charade

 Of appearance too early or too late,

 Of a random force that turns my way,

 Into some strange and awkward play.



 I choose a design of great import,

 A meaningful kind, of a rational sort:

 With a purpose far above the crush

 Of humanity's desire filled headlong rush.



 An intent supreme,of a virtuous kind,

 With purer motive and reasoned mind;

 To set things right and bring an end,

 Far more desirable than chance can pen.



 To vindicate the cause of all,

 The pain, the strife, the rise and fall,

 Of man's travail from then til now;

 Though to prove it to you, I know not how.



 Please bear with me and consider this,

 Lest some good purpose we should miss,

 Could the answer be thus simply stated:

 'By Him and for Him they were created?



 The purpose of creation and the Adamic fall,

 Could glory for Christ be the reason after all?

 More magnificent a claim cannot be made.

 No more noble reason for existence laid,

 Than for my existence to be,

 To glorify the one who is most Holy.

Premium Member Lip Service

A field of angry faces fume
with mouths agape as spittle flies
from lips best used for other tasks.

Upon the green , the rolling lawn of angst,
demonstrators wave paper placards. 
Group A never nearing Group B.
Flags drape the bandstand packed
with pomp and politicians give lip-service
to the trodden rights of man.

Unequal, but present, women, fe-males
present themselves in all manner of vehicles
from stroller to walker to wheel chair, we are here.
For one hundred years, we have been ‘given’
the ‘right’ to own property, 
but still
our labor is worth less.
Un-joined, un-backed,
if alone, many are left
in the ranks of the poor.

A field of angry faces fume
no child care, no child left behind,
inadequate health care, still we struggle on
in the twenty-first century,
where politicians preen and prance
and misuse our votes.

The divide ever present,
our ranks rife with unrest,
our creative powers used to shackle us
given only lip-service.

Still, we will prevail.


With Good Purpose

The future will bring unexpected things,
A woeful tragedy our heart to sting,
And though our plans be laid so well,
A power, from where we cannot tell,
Moves, or turns circumstance around,
Here giving joy there bringing a frown.

An insignificant spark, a slippery spot,
An induced germ, a misplaced dot,
Can turn someone; a group, a horde,
To bring about peace or bare the sword.

What say ye then, my wise friend you;
Is it blind fate and a little luck too:
Some random power to tip the scale,
And bring forth heaven or show us hell?

Concerning the puzzle of seeming happenstance,
Can you of the future perceive a glance?
Has it reason or design at all,
Can man influence how 'fate' must fall?

How helpless then we tend to be,
If we be pawns in a random sea,
Where utmost effort is brought to naught,
A battle comes that would not be fought,
And all this turns on the merest flick,
Of someone's seeming uneventful trick.

Who can approve such an absurd display,
Of struggling mankind's effort made,
And undone by a change of wind,
The toss and turn of chance to send?

I will not accept such an odd charade
Of appearance too early or too late,
Of a random force that turns my way,
Into some strange and awkward play.

I choose a design of great import,
A meaningful kind, of a rational sort:
With a purpose far above the crush
Of humanity's desire filled headlong rush.

An intent supreme,of a virtuous kind,
With purer motive and reasoned mind;
To set things right and bring an end,
Far more desirable than chance can pen.

To vindicate the cause of all,
The pain, the strife, the rise and fall,
Of man's travail from then til now;
Though to prove it to you, I know not how.

Please bear with me and consider this,
Lest some good purpose we should miss,
Could the answer be thus simply stated:
"By Him and for Him they were created"?

The purpose of creation and the Adamic fall,
Could glory for Christ be the reason after all?
More magnificent a claim cannot be made.
No more noble reason for existence laid,
Than for my existence to be,
To glorify the one who is most Holy.

The Spirit written text does make the call,
Of one Lord supremely over all,
With a secondary purpose in mind,
Of a merciful and a redeeming kind.

All wrapped up in this purpose too,
Could be salvation for me and you.
I ask you now, does this ring true,
Creation made and with good purpose too?

Premium Member 2018 Fifa World Cup - Uruguay Vs Russia

romp over Russia
Uruguay group A top spot. . .
both in knockout stage






Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Published 2018 in "2018 World Cup Senryu" via wattpad.com
© Mark Toney  Create an image from this poem.

The Beast Within

Was I born this way? 
Or was it the one day I don’t remember?
All I know is, is that I have the urge to
But not limited, to attack!
This doesn’t just  happen three days out of the month
But all the time when I see Him or Her
It makes me think that I am not the only one
There has to be more like me and there is!
We are a cult, a covenant, a group, a pack of wolves
When the feeling ignites, the blood boils
The blood tends to flow in one particular place
You can see it in my eyes
And my body starts to change
The claws come out like snake fangs
It is like I can’t control myself
No matter how many times I repeat “CONTROL YOURSELF”
I want to run and hide until it goes away
I call it “taming the beast”
All my life I’ve tried to shut it out
But not anymore! Its loose
Instead of stopping the blood, I let it go!
It feels magnificent!
I don’t care of what people think of me
I don’t care if I hurt someone
I mean no harm to those who aren’t my prey!
I am no monster!
I still bleed red
And I know they do too!
My kind has been seen in movies
We are portrayed in different connotations
I laugh because like the saying says 
“there is more than one way to skin a Cat”
When the moment occurs now…
My clothes come off and the hunt begins!
I may be on all fours or just two feet
My prey doesn’t care because they know what’s coming
I like to play with my food first
Until I hit my point of aggression
Then its time to feed the Beast that has been
Locked up for years time
The males tend to taste different than the females
Which makes them my first pick
When they hear the growls and thunderous roar
They know it’s the end… at least for now
Until the urge starts over again!

To My Fellow Soupers

I gratefully appreciate the outpouring of support re. my poem "Just A Few More 
Words"....about my being dumped from my band.  Goes to show you, musicians, 
flakey and, most of the time, the better ones so enamoured with their over-rated, 
self esteem,  can be very hard to deal with.  Most live in a fantasy world, fueled by 
marajuana, and such, each feeling he'll be the next Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison,
or B.B. King.  The egotistical, childish conflicts that arise never cease to amaze 
me.  I choose to look at this as an opportunity to procede down my own path.  My
God, way back in 1971/1972 I was the lead instrument in an organ/ bass & vocal
and drum group- a Keyboard version of "Cream", with my 2 cousins, and we 
achieved significant local (Long Island, N.Y.) success and fame- see poem 'The
Big Day"
     I am no stranger to failure, nor success.

     But, perhaps the biggest success I can ever claim, would be my hooking up
with all my poetrysoup buddies.  It's a house of mutual respect, support, and a
bottomless pool of extraordinary talent and insight.  There are no dummies here,
that we all know- all of those are at **** sights, or other worthless endeavours.
So, just let me say, thanks, good buddies, you are the best family I have ever had.
       And, when I get my new band cooking, I'd play at any affair, for any soupmate,
for merely the expense of travel and lodging, and, given enough prior advance 
notice, will write customized songs or music, for such occassions, and you also 
get my stand-up comedy act as a bonus.
       So, thanks, guys, this family is MY FAMILY!!!!   tom
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Enemy Mine

Enemy Mine


An enemy imagined is greater than an enemy that is real. For a real enemy can be killed, but an imagined enemy is invincible. No matter how much money we spend on defence, he will still exist. No matter how many we kill, the seed of its evil will spread. The true test of wisdom is to know the difference between an enemy imagined and an enemy that is real.

To live in a world where peace is a dream and war is the norm, this is the reality of man. Our governments and corporations spend untold fortunes on the weapons and the technology of war. A great amount of our economy is based in the machines of war. Worst of all is the cost in the lives of our family, our friends and our neighbors. 

In the small town where I live bombs do not fall, mines don’t explode beneath our feet and children do not fall to sleep with the sound of gunfire. The night is not filled with fear and the cold. Their days are not filled with funerals, starvation and disease. Our children do not bury the dead or tend to the wounds of the injured. Long gone are the years of war with our neighbors and yet our children are still filled with the images and the horrors of war. Acts of terrorism abroad and at home fill the media with images of the dead and the dying. They haunt our minds with enemy’s real and imagined that feed on paranoia and fear. 

If an enemy did not exist those that need one would invent a cause to fight or an enemy to kill. Animal rights activists and others the like, use images of horror to rally people to their cause. A war suited to the needs of people dissatisfied with peace, activists create a political war to turn away from peace. If won they do not stop they push for vengeance against those that opposed them. Then in that act become an enemy of peace. Causes to be fought without complete victory they become a new group a hate group. They commit acts of violence against those that oppose them. They wave their criminal records like badges of honour. Without the concerns of peaceful resolution the exhilaration of violence beckons to them. Their cause a call to war. 


By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison

The Host

The host
Invitations have gone out
Some without my knowing
I have no choice but be a host
To those that will be showing
And there they are, they have arrived
Some are all smiles and friendly
Those take a seat, they look around
They share their thoughts, but gently
Another group who was here first
Their arrogance is reeking
They make me feel as if it’s my
Demise that they are seeking
A smaller group, a bunch of three
More humble, more humane
Their presence is a ray of sun
The right relief for strain
’Cause nearly did I falter 
And lose my decent poise
For which I had good reason
But now I have a choice
I plan to play the perfect host
I’ll manage and entertain
I’ll let them see the strength in me
There is no need to feign
’Cause my three loyal companions
Humility, Love, and Peace
Each helps to stabilize the mood
In varying degrees
For life will take some crazy turns
Some crazy hands it deals
And you’ll be forced to come to terms
With whatever pact it seals
But let’s not be too worried
About whom our guests may be
We’ll get much consolation
From the loyal group of three
So be a host, whoever comes
No matter how or when
Just get around and entertain
Just do it, ’cause you can.
Wendy Nipas

Premium Member Poetic Thoughts

Good day my fellow soupers, I hope you all are doing well.
Another moment has arrived, for our poetry show and tell.
We are a diverse group; a common quest keeps us sustained.
This disruption from reality, empowers rest when feeling drained.

We share our thoughts in group, an expression of how we feel.
Some words we share are dark and some, for curb appeal.
Whatever the case may be, we all leave our hearts exposed.
Be mindful of how you judge, it can leave others indisposed.

Some scholars will write for contests, hoping their work will place.
When you’re scripting for recognition, it’s hard to keep up the pace.
Poets have differed taste, we’re all just human after all.
Try not to get discouraged when you miss that curtain call.

On any given day, you’ll pen some rhymes that come out great.
Don’t let a biased judge, determine your poetry fate.
Each one of you are special, foster your talent both day and night.
Legends are made not born, now grab your pens and write!

Premium Member The Website Helped Me in No Way

I spent two hours on the website trying to renew my license
new system installed in January
Much easier they said
My husband spent an hour on it
He brought me their phone number
Call them, he suggested
I could not get a person, only a recorded message

If you are in group A, press 1
If you are in group B, press 2
If you are in group C…..
I did not know what group I was in
That is on a teensy postcard we had accidentally thrown away

I resolved to try the next day
Spent half an hour on the phone when I noticed online help
I called the number
The lady talked me through steps one through eight.
I cannot help you past this step, she informed me.
It has to be the director of your group.
Which group are you in?

Premium Member Who Am I

This may seem lame. 
Let’s make it a game.

I’ll give you a clue.
You try to guess who.

Proceeding my entrance by just a short while,
Is often the presence or hint of a smile.

Used sometimes by women, more often by men,
Often, I start as a quaint little grin.

I can also be hardy, and sometimes quite loud,
And often I’m present amongst a small crowd.

If it is me, you want to invoke,
Share with the group, a funny joke.

If you want to seem happy from now ever after,
Invite me in, I’m best known as laughter.
© Bill Baker  Create an image from this poem.

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