Best Harp On Poems
I've grown quite weary of negative poems full of sarcasms
It's true we're separated on many issues by deep chasms
We see things differently; shades of gray, black and white
but please stop demeaning others when critically some write
about government and vaccines as if you're having spasms?
Stop accusing people of wanting to live in an ivory tower
What are you hungry for? Do you seek recognition or power?
Freedom still exists in America, but if you don't agree
say goodbye to her shores and come face to face with reality.
Negativity breeds doom and gloom from voices that are sour.
Write of the beauty of Nature, or the good things people do
There's no need to harp on and on. It's redundant to boo hoo.
If writing about politics and religion ruffles feathers of peers,
focus on something else. All you have to do is change gears.
Writing positive poetry is a goal I ardently hope we will pursue.
A Parody for Soupers based on the song, 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town.'
You better not shout
You better not sigh
You better not pout
I'm telling you why...
PS Admin is makin' the rounds
They are bound
to be making a list
and checkin' it twice
They're keepin' tabs on who's naughty and nice
They'll know when you cause trouble
Someone will pimp you out
They'll take action on the double (not)
Asking, "What is this all about?"
You better not bully
Or use a curse word
Cuz in Poetry Soup
You'll be labeled a turd
You better not be a troll
Cuz it's a crime
Harassment takes a toll
Even if it's done in rhyme
PS Admin wants poets to have a goal
To be nice to each other without blocking
If you do you may find a lump of coal
In the toe of your Christmas stocking
You better not fire your gun
Then your comment gets deleted
That's called a 'hit and run'
An offense that shouldn't be repeated
PS Admin always reads what you're typing
Sent from your IP address
So, you better stop all your griping
Or your account they will repossess
You better not be cruel and mean
Or you'll find yourself in a deep abyss
Kicked out for being a drama king or queen
Having PS Admin's butt to kiss
Every story has two sides
Sometimes they believe the wrong one
The one where the snide villain hides
After their dirty work has been done
They frown on those who harp on negativity
Team Poetry Soup finds it rather banal
For which some among us have a proclivity
In other words, to make it clear, Don't be a.n.a.l
You better not write of hate
It's best not to be accused
So if some of you can relate
It's better known as being abused
If guilty, you'll get nuttin' for Christmas
But if you insist on being bad
There'll be no POTD for you on Christmas
If you make PS Administrators mad
You don't have to worry about Santa Claus
Just don't make Team Poetry Soup frown
Or you'll get kicked out for breaking their laws
Cuz they have the power to shut you down
You're in love-plight and sing for me each night,
As though abandoned by the savage world;
On the kingsize bed, here, we spouses fight,
In whirlpools of nightmares, I'm, often, hurled...!
Insomniac and sleepwalking; I sing,
Mindlessly over roofs with broken tiles;
And hear from a far-off church, my knells ring,
Faded from our faces are those soft smiles...!
In the furnace of the cast we get burned,
Religions stand far and harp on morals;
When, lo, to ashes, our physiques get turned,
Will zeitgeists glorify us with laurels...?
Could clutches of cultures, yet, long hold back?
Yeah, at last, breaking the caves of our graves,
Our nightingales, within, will make crypts crack,
Sweet songs will soar over soundless sea waves...!!!
10 April 2023
SIMPLY POETRY 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
you. are not. alone.
with cavernous ceilings closing in,
the impression of depression driving in the direction
of some unreachable goal of controlled insanity
– because always in control are you –
you harp on your uniqueness, your originality,
when in fact you are one of a many,
one of a group,
something you try so hard to deny
as the blood starts staining your hands
and drip, drops on this hallowed ground.
through the watery haze of your righteous tears
your gaze fails to fall on the footprints
of another and another, walking the floor,
their lifeblood draining just as yours.
all around you they sway, scepters
of tragedies pushed away and forgotten,
long forgotten,
as you blindly flail and try not to fall
off this lonely cliff of Last Resort where
you. are not. alone.
you search and you seek
empathy, apathy, sympathy, any “-pathy”
to ease the pain of these lost, forgotten days,
and yet you miss these hands reaching out
wanting to hold you miss these words
said only to console you miss these eyes
meant to draw you in
and all you see in those eyes is a reflection
of something you’ve tried to deny
and you continue to balance
walking the lines of chaos, trying not to spin
out, of, control
– because always in control are you –
you try to survive on the bread and bones
of those come before, but blind you are
to the nature of your food, blind you are
to this world you stumble through
and blame endlessly, releasing you
from the responsibility you are being punished for, and
you. are not. alone.
so dive of your platform of solitary fears
dive into this river of comfortable tears
swim alongside these ghosts of years and years
of tragedies so like yours
let them carry you away from this
cliff of Last Resort and know that
you. are not. alone.
Programmed fools demonize our culture,
try to undermine, demoralize,
say that it’s all ‘white supremacist,’
it’s ‘patriarchal,’ ‘all built on lies.’
Overblow every mistake they find,
project onto us all of their sins,
parasites dependant on a host
that they’re busy killing from within.
Be they our teachers of professors,
or scum media lying out loud,
don’t listen when they preach self-hatred,
for there is much of which to be proud.
They like to blame us for slavery,
tell children it was unique to us,
when the Muslims enslaved twenty times
of what came to the Americas.
They don’t teach that for ten thousand years
it was commonplace to all mankind,
they do not want that much perspective
to ever enter into our minds.
They don’t mention that we helped kill it,
that the west paid in blood for that change,
or that no culture who came before
dared to take on this practice deranged.
They harp on this to guilt good people,
make them cower to the leftist crowd,
there is no need to feel self-hatred,
when there’s so much that should make you proud.
They like to proclaim that we’re ‘racist,’
it’s their favorite way to shut you up,
use your skin tint to assign virtues,
endlessly coming up with such stuff.
But the only racists out there are
the lefties who reduce us to groups,
the rest of us don’t care for this crap,
and are annoyed by people who do.
When we buried Jim Crow long ago,
held up equality under law,
we did all that a country can do,
one standard for all, despite our flaws.
Go ask China about Africans,
or the Muslim world of people dark,
and you’ll understand very quickly
that our attitudes are far apart.
We say that color doesn’t matter,
and that all who try must be allowed,
so when they preach racial self-hatred,
flip them off, you’ve a right to be proud...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
This poem I wrote. I call it " Let Him Go "
Sweetheart don't cry
Don't let him make you feel like your nothing
You do have family even though we are not close by
I know your heart is crushing
Don't harp on the past
Don't let him play with your head
You need to get over him fast
His feelings for you are dead
Over 2 years and you still don't have a ring
Your not the one he calls his wifey to be no more
Take a seat and listen up girl here is the thing
He's playing with your feelings and using you like a two dollar whore
I know you were smart once and can be again
He has you so brain washed it's not funny
I know hearing all this is a strain
Think of the example your setting for you little ones honey
Hold your head high and walk away from that loser mama's boy
Show him that your the one that is too good for his sorry ass
Hell he's such a mama's boy you can find better pleasure in a toy
Your related to me so come on show your sass
Let go of the past and look to a new future
Let go of the pain and the control freak
Say bye bye Looser
It will get easier one step at a time week by week......
In opposition they criticize all that is wrong
and all that is good, according to their agenda.
They put clogs in wheels, aided by defiant unions
and often bringing the country to a standstill
with senseless strikes and organized protests.
Mud is thrown at government and individuals;
much of it sticks; the end justifies the means.
During the run-up to elections they use the media
to their advantage; the message drummed over
and over during house visits and heated mass rallies
rousing the rabble with heartfelt oratory.
They promise transparency and accountability;
fair sharing of wealth, help to the homeless and
to the needy; curbing favours to friends of friends
by resorting to the ideal concept of meritocracy;
lowering taxes and bills and introducing new social
benefits that would put all on an equal footing.
Most of all they harp on the eradication of corruption.
They hold roadmaps to solve all the country’s woes.
They promise heaven on earth; they promise Utopia.
Glittering manifesto is presented with much fanfare.
The gullible, switchers and uneducated are brainwashed.
As expected, election produces the desired results and
the party in opposition gets in power...on promises!
Promises that cannot be kept. The devil wants his due.
He grins, pointing to the small writing on the manifesto...
The majority had failed to notice it. It reads...SUCKERS.
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Contest: I Can’t Breathe
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillan
Placing: 1st
I tend to harp on the happy life
That I've been so lucky to have had
One of the fortunate ones that's for sure
Since I was just a wee lad
Why me, at times I've wondered
But really don't want a reason
Content to accept my very good fortune
My love is one for all seasons
Must have performed a special good deed
To deserve such a life so glorious
Guess I could classify my role up till now
As purely phantasmagorias
As I sail on forth to my golden years
Giving thanks for a life of love
Feel more fortunate than one man deserves
As the love light shines from above
I tend to harp on my happy life
That I've been so lucky to have had
Won't question the reason I've been chosen
To live this life filled with glad
© Jack Ellison 2015
They all put so much stress on
getting a college degree,
and if it’s math or science,
I think that I would agree.
But in the humanities
another trend now appears,
kids are taught to hate themselves,
and this is reason for fear.
Instead of the great questions,
they’re taught to obsess on race,
and disparage great thinkers
who have the ‘wrong’-colored face.
Instead of human nature
they’re taught to harp on gender,
to the point they no longer think
there is a ‘him’ or a ‘her.’
Instead of economics
they’re force-fed socialism,
and thus doomed to see the world
through a misshapen prism.
Instead of building a life
these students are taught to see
themselves as passive subjects
to assigned ‘identities.’
Instead of questions of faith,
they’ll be taught religion is dead,
just to have leftist belief
pounded hard into their heads.
What comes back won’t be something
worthy of pride or respect,
their morals gone, their reason cowed,
their soul an absolute wreck.
You will not get a person
quipped to take on the world,
you’ll get an angry NPC
out rioting like a churl.
You will not find them ready
to become women and men,
just fragile people who think
the name ‘Blackjack’ does offend.
You will not find strong actors
now ready to get to work,
just entitled people that
rant and scream like spoiled jerks,
and worse still these useless souls
have a hundred grand in debt!
I got to think a trade school
would’ve been a better bet.
Then at least they’d be useful
to society at large,
help to maintain all we’ve built,
and not be the culture’s charge.
Plus if they really want to
give the great thinkers a look,
they can go do that for free
with a bunch of library books,
Or look to the internet,
most of the greats are there for free,
your own thoughts will be as good
as what comes from academies.
Unless it’s math or science,
college doesn’t make much sense,
don’t sent your kids to college,
you’ll just be ruining them.
Bernadette, ex-midinette,
now leaving Paris:
shop-girl day before.
Paris takes long time to leave,
with all the arrondissements...
Bernadette, ex-midinette
swaps shop-girl airs
for country air.
Paris now seen distantly:
the Eiffel Tower.
Perfect future lies in front
near Lille, or similar.
Shop-girl the day before.
Tells me not to harp on this
and holds up middle finger.
***************************
A midinette is a Parisian shop-girl.
5/1/2015
© Ben Burton 12/18/2015
Some politicians claim that Muslims are the most abused
It isn't even close... in victim-hood it is the Jews
Obama speaks of Israel like they're the enemy
That fact can open doors to endless possibilities
Remember when he first came in and traveled overseas
Apologizing for our sins, bowed to the Saudi king
He claims that terrorists are hatched from no religious ilk
If that is so, what are those cries they make before they kill?
Most Muslims hear those whispered words the moment of their birth
They're in the dirge obama calls "the sweetest sound on earth"
If terrorists were screaming their support for Jesus Christ
Obama would be first in line to flagrantly deride
All fundamental Christendom as having played a role
He'd harp on "Christian terrorists," without the "radical"
On certain issues Barry jumps right in to take a side
But when it comes to terrorists he's always quick to chide
Talk radio, the Fox Network, and all who disagree
With the complete disaster of his foreign policy
The jayvee team called 'ISIL' grew when he ignored the fact
A breeding ground would open with our exit from Iraq
Yet even as they make their way onto these very shores
His only urgent issue is that earth is getting warm
Beware, for this man is not done, he has another year
A Congress full of traitors will help him to persevere
Obama versus terrorism never was a fight
How can a guy who's so far left expect to get things right?
Is he Christian, Muslim, faithless, none can say but he
He's still a secret despite vows of full transparency
All we can do is watch and wait and pray that we survive
Until we get our chance to put aside these stressful times
But even then, if reason does not trump the liberal view
We'll suffer more disasters at the hands of you know who
Lost in a world of regrets and dejection
Struggling for an escape
But I am shackled between a rock and a hard place
With no key in sight and no help coming my way
I am trapped.
Flung into a world that hates me but needs me
A world with its foot on my neck
The more I struggle, the more the diseased, putrid-smelling member
Crushes nearly the life out of me
I am trapped.
The open road to nowhere calls me to liberation
But responsibility and maturity have
Placed a Denver boot on my golden chariot
And have stolen the reigns of my white stallion
I am trapped.
A sword falls before my feet
With the balm of relief at its tip
Beckoning me to impale
My already lifeless body
Onto its medicine
But God and hellfire
Prevent my eager hands from
Injecting my body with its medicine
I am trapped.
What did I do to be plunged
Into this perpetual prison?
The bars to my cell
Are far too solid to destroy
To whom can I cry out to
And how can I know they can hear me?
Who is able and willing
To rescue this damoiseau in distress
And how long must I wait?
How long my I hang my harp on a willow tree
And weep?
How long will it be
Until I am free?
I am trapped…
I am trapped…
I am trapped.
Yes I am white, and yes I can write
From the DM and V so you think
I can not spill my guts or MC
I am dumb if I choose to believe
That I got any skill to convey
So much pain I have felt in my chest
From my dad smacking me in the head
Cause an F on a test and I guess
That's enough to put hands in the cuffs
And arrest the big pest that's oppressed
And has left me a mess and completely distressed!
I will no longer be so depressed
Or this pressed to suppress all this hate I possess
So no rest till I break these two chains
That have plagued all my veins, its insane,
When we don't have an answer!
Bruce Banners, the standard,
We lose all our manners
And start with the slander
Then harp on the "pampered"
With heart crushing banter
So dark is my candor
Were used to being used
and tossed in the hamper
I'll wash my lacoste but it only gets damper
And that's when I got get up, its enough
Cant let Russ, just adjust, my outcome
Or who I become!
I know of a guy, who just can’t sit up straight,
Anytime you look at him he’s in an inclined state.
It seems he always has to lean to one side or the other,
I’d tell him to sit up straight, but then again I’m not his mother.
Whatever’s wrong with him, he’s not a very sturdy fellow,
There’s always the possibility that his spine’s made out of Jell-O.
He might have a syndrome that always makes him lean,
To harp on his posture then might be kind of mean.
I think that it’s plain to see that it’s energy that he lacks,
That’s why, when he sits, he looks like melted candle wax.
It certainly says a thing or two about his lack of ambition,
When into the Earth’s gravity he reclines in full submission.
I know that in Italy they have a leaning tower,
Probably built by a guy like him working at half power.
I hung my harp on a willow tree,
No longer could I sing,of what was me,
The tunes of yesterday,of no appeal,
That day,I found,life so real;
I sing today an inspired refrain,
Not of myself,yet simple and plain,
To tell of what has happened to me
Since I hung that harp on a willow tree
inspired by Psalm 137:1/2