Best Hearings Poems
There was a time when I was young
To share an era that begun
From music to the fashion trend
TV shows and history
Fads and other mysteries
I saw them all as time moved on
From classic pop to rock and roll
Bill Haley and the Elvis craze
And four years in my Air Force phase
But Jitterbug still hung around
The big bands had that unique sound
Time moved on to start the clock
European cinema
Fellini, Bergman made the mien
And Japan added to the pie
To film The Seven Samurai
Brando, Newman and James Dean
newly captured on the screen
Television's Golden Age
All the programs set the stage
For Gunsmoke and the Twilight Zone
I love Lucy, I married Joan
TV tubes were changed a lot
Wrestling shows were really hot
Mantle, Mays and Robinson
Took baseball to another rung
The coonskin cap and hula hoop
Duck tail hair and snapper soup
I wore one with a thick pomade
And ate the soup that Momma made
My fashion sense left much to judge
As if I had good taste for fudge
Pegged pants with a six inch rise
Ladys skirts were different then
Lengths that came down to their shins
Three inch higher was a sin
Still dirty minds existed then
In Belgium back in 58
I saw an exhibit on that date
The Sputnik with a cute stray dog
was launched so high up in the air
Before the U.S. could get there
Then the race to conquer space
McCarthy hearings, lives destroyed
The Cold War was our only plight
The Commies kept their nukes in check
And Castro entered on the scene
There were no hot wars left to fight
Days still continued as well as night
I share a new millennium
But today the future's not so bright
No more long hand, the laptop's here
Facebook and Twitter have conquered our sphere
The death knell has tolled for how life was then
Rekindle your past and live again
Ralph Sergi February 19, 2015
Decades by Kelly Deschler
My sins – both of commission and omission
do testify against me day and night.
But saving souls of sinners was His mission;
now sinners walk by faith and not by sight.
Lord, how am I to keep your gospel fresh?
Repeated hearings make it seem less real,
for I am inundated by the flesh
and all the vain distractions that appeal.
I strive to grasp this truth mysterious:
“God demonstrates his love for us in this –
While we were lost in sin, Christ died for us”
Though I had just betrayed him with a kiss.
New birth and life eternal are his gifts
As from the dead this hope my spirit lifts.
Written in 2016
If there was no election fraud:
Then why so much determination to stop discussion about it?
If it is one big lie, are they calling all the Americans who testified liars?
Those who testified after signing sworn affidavits?
Even with those being brave enough to do so with death threats?
If it is so much of a lie, then why aren’t they in jail?
For that is the consequence for lying after signing the affidavit
They are not to blame for their testimony restricted to state legislatures,
Instead of being allowed into the courts, where it should be presented
Why didn’t the main stream media cover these hearings in detail?
To me, it doesn’t matter what side you are on or affiliated with
This is a federal election with proven evidence, numbers and facts,
Truly revealed in hours of testimony from credible witnesses
I would like to believe that anyone would want this fairly reviewed
It is shocking such serious matters are ignored and discounted
After all, it is our votes involved in the outcome, regardless of the result
To think that fairness in something like this goes ignored, is appalling
*We all have a right to ask these questions
Heidi Sands
2/4/21
Here's to Reiner our 'Hero in chains' a true International.'
Who deserves stromg acclaim.' After fourty five hearings
Where the judges must be; 'mud' blind? And even deaf, perhaps?
It must be a 'record of kinds' charged yet not tried.' And
Now its eighteen months in!! Often chained hands and
Feet.? Where oh where should i begin? At the at the doctorate of law? The man gained with aplomb?..Or the
Great concern he holds for German history.' And the way
The world views it; there-in.' Lets me not dwell on old hitler!!
And that grusame time past.' Though I'll gather it shaped
This most decent German.' He maybe desired a better pass? Yet he's let down by current lawfare.' Of which that
Moustached devil would hold dear.' Is this real or imagined? Just the very worst that could up-rear.' I cry a
SHAME ON THE JUDICIARY.! A SHAME ON THEM ALL.!
Who have incarcersted, a shining example, of German
Integrity.' And what is possible for all.' Why do they sheild
The mass woundings.' The truth of dead killed by that clot
Shot.' You are an insulting stench.' Upon your modern history.' Oh by no means will you be forgot.' Yet your time
Will come to take a cell.' Normal Germans will arise! with
You to loose..Thats just what they'll choose.' And face the
World with human pride.'
.
Ode to the people of Norway
Strophe
O, the darkness has descended on a paradise
Of Norway’s bounties of nature
On the people living a quiet life
Not concerned about the politics ever
A drug addict, calling himself a warrior
Taking pride of being a savior of Europe
Unmindful of the death toll of the young
Rejoicing in the tears falling from their eyes
A Hitler has raised his ugly head up
Polluting the minds of the old and the young.
Antistrophe
But trying to take a refuge to insanity
Taking drugs to make himself efficient and awake
Priding over to start war for years sixty
Pleading not guilty to terrorism namesake
Though confessing to bombing and rampage
But remaining unaffected by what happened
Thus his plea assures him of future court hearings
By the attacks Norway is riveted with rage
By Breivik’s paranoid writings stunned
Hundreds thronged the courthouse proceedings.
Epode
With tears in their eyes people paid homage
To the victims laying roses a few feet deep
While the killer faces 21 years in prison
The stiffest sentence can be given by a Norwegian judge
His lawyer says the whole case suggests his client is insane
The Royal couple consoled people and tears shed
The prime minister called it a national tragedy
And summed it up “evil can never defeat a nation”
The killer may enjoy Halden, the luxurious jail in the world
Where cells have flat TV and designer furniture facility.
+++++++++
* I wrote this poem two years back when the tragedy took place. Not posted anywhere
Date 4-11-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Tenth Place win
Contest: Ode (Old/new) poetry by SKAT Love
I've given the plight of kids crossing our border thoughtful consideration.
I would like to propose a panacea that might ease this critical situation.
I recommend that pilots flying kids to the USA make a flight deviation,
And drop kids off at airports in DC while the Obamas' are on vacation!
I know they'd be delighted to share the White House food and recreation.
After all, the grounds are fenced so kids could be kept under observation.
Unload kids at the Capitol for distribution to each Congressional delegation.
I bet they'd take speedy action to secure the border as well as deportation!
I sent my idea to Washington but as yet have received no firm confirmation.
I can only assume they'll set Congressional hearings for serious evaluation.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Written with considerable tongue in jowls!
Nigeria, the Soul of my Pride (Part One)
Nigeria, my country, where mournful of pledges aren’t reneged?
Indomitable she would have maintained, if crowns aren’t clowns
Gyrating on the mishaps, wearing wan gumption—unwelcome!
Ears do attend; but eyes haven’t yet seen what watery mouths do speak (of).
Roasting are to rich physiques, as paupers’ plights mount on their rotten.
Innuendoes of yesteryear ‘nattered’, nativities’ woes unforgettable.
Atrophying (now) are the little legacies her founding fathers had raised.
Nigeria my country, where true sons and daughters’ tongues sip in her bounties; sobbing,
Some are endlessly praying and raising their voice to hearings and their words to readings.
....
6/4/2014
Across the great divide
We the people despair
Hearings in Congress
Public hearings
No public allowed
No press allowed
Homeowners, from Pennsylvania
To Texas
Told their drinking water is safe
While flames torch the water
Spewing from their garden hoses
There are no people anymore
Only billions of dollars
Choking our elected officials
There are no people anymore
Only controlled media
Regurgitating approved scripts
From a worldwide vault of lies
There are no people anymore
No
People
Anymore
We are the generation,
born between 1946-1964,
grew up watching shows
like Howdy Doody and
Captain Kangaroo,
Leave it to Beaver,
Hazel, Father Knows Best
and Gidget,
too many to mention but
I'm sure there all there
on the internet,
grew up listening to rock n roll,
doing the mashed potato
and the Chubby Checker twist,
a lot of boomers fighting in the
Vietnam War and consequently
losing their innocence,
we also saw the JFK assassination
and watched the Watergate hearings
on our televisions,
saw the Kent State shootings
and anti-war demonstrations...
now if your like me wondering
about all these police shootings
terror attacks and social unrest,
a lot of us turning 70 this year
and wondering whats going
to happen next,
yes were the babyboomers
who grew up watching a lot
of television...
I'm just wondering if watching
too much of it took away our true vision
and wisdom, because I myself am
guilty as well...
“One man, one woman”
My father will sternly warn me
And severally, oh! Severally
Will he repeat in my hearings
Loudlier than ever saying
“Son will you take on too many woes”?
“Oh! My father” of what do you speak again
My tender heart skipping a hurdle
A firm handshake erupting
Between my pounding heart
And my twinging left eyeball
Cry out then I unto him
“Oh! My father it is, but very early at dawn
And with his eyes wide open
My father beholds the fruit of his loins
Who erstwhile had previously
Been wrapped in swaddling clothes,
A tiny little young creature
My father takes in a deep smiling breath
And another deep breath quick to follow
And calmly says
“Son, my son -do not take on more than you can chew!
Listen boy, listen to me!
Beautiful many a women come,
Poison and woes their abundance bring
But of one man, one woman!
What potent panacea more would you request
One man, one woman boy!
One man, one woman Son.
"Futile Fragments" ( A collaboration~ Linda-Marie P.S. sweetheart )
by~ LINDA MARIE *p.s. SWEETHEART
shattered to inner core emotions reside in vogue
as tattered tapestry etches death to vibrant vase
egotistical desires ejected common sense to rogue
fine ... adieu ... departure in the misty vague haze ...
fragmented fragile pieces exploded with destruction
simulation created to ebony volcanic ash
love vacated unceremoniously scans of interruption
emotions sustain tremors of immature backlash ...
enchanting charms reflecting the pain of sheer intense
to resurrect romance is a haunting dream of death
provoking passions escalate chaos ... havoc ... suspense
suffocation dwelling to captivate life's bated breath ...
bittersweet faded memories succumb to shadowed jest ...
by~ POET D:
Moshing fragments overlooked, a darker dance limitless
conventional Gothic hearings..... praising the sewer that runs
analysis running ticking with the passion of an atomic bomb
the perceived exotic unity of this frightens world~ shadow dust
lashing out tropical grasses and utilities . . . tampering every hell
Burning paper that represents hostile . . . black ashes
results of a detailed creature mourning the abyss
examination of falsification~ fragments that crawl in our inner walls
A poisonous micro-fragment is presented approaching
objective with the exploration of breakage . . . virus. . . patterns
meaning destroying every awakening stage in this bio world *via~ wide
Deep identification losing all Revelations,
Laughing fading away with the criteria formed
must we ~ need us~ crawling in my inner walls. . .
use me ~ need me~ feed me~ critically re-evaluate me . . .
A Collaboration with * Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of Poetry Soup RIP
~A Poet Destroyer COLLABORATION~
I spit game proper, like a pro-batter, I got the right stroke
I work deals, like it's Black-Friday, I'm far from broke
I can't help but make the girl proud and gay
Want some of my time, like takes, you too gotta' pay
Like a hole, she do nothing but dig me
I'm like Kurmit the frog, she's miss Piggy
She can't leave me alone, like a mother to an infant
Like soft soil, I step in her life, leave an imprint
I handle her with care, like a fragile antique plate
When she express her feelings, I pretend I can relate
Never catch me cheatin', I'm a true player
I run her, if she's a city, I'm the mayor
Your chick left with me, not coming back--runaway
You ain't do her right, I took her in like a stray
Chicks throwin' me that pussy-cat, do I look like a vet?
They call me Super-soaker, the way I get 'em wet
My damsels come in pairs, like a set of earings
I don't put up with their problems,
I ain't a Judge handling hearings
Want your chick back, take her, can't get a receipt
Funny, how I got you off rhythm, moving to my beat
Three Sides Of Clown's Cheese
Pass me three sides of cheese
So I can dessert on your sad story,
my dear.
With my baker's ear
I'll listen to what
you have in the oven.
Great, I hope my hearings good.
I'll then ski jump off your nose,
You know how I love your nose
My dear,
And crash land on your lap.
Wee!
This will be so much fun
To think of all the cows
At play,
With the grasses in the meadow
bristling once again
And to see the dough rising
in sweetness.
Thank you man in the moon
For lending me a shoe shine
And a organ to play.
Was that a wry smile I see?
Do you think I need
A shoehorn
As I fall below
Her chastity belt?
Wee!
Did I just say that?
Incredulous.
I did.
Why?
Because I'm a clown
... hi remember me?
Two feet, two arms
And a smile.
Hi.
All re-introductions aside
Can I tickle
Your funny bone.
Why?
It's there, isn't it?
Isn't laughter medicine?
This wouldn't be a good
jawbreaker ...
I mean icebreaker?
Are we not compatible?
Funny bunnies,
That love to hop?
Of course
That is if I can reach it
And get on your good side.
Oh when the saints come marching in ...
Wee!
Oh, oh.
Man in the moon's
a nodding.
This doesn't look good.
It isn't.
Take the Ferris wheel down
Stop.
The spin, spin, spin
Olive branch spiel,
The extra cheese
Toppings
... she's not getting on
A clown's life.
connie pachecho
8/8/17
Inspired by the reading the entries to the clown contest.
UNQUOTABLE QUOTES - LIV : Swatting flies in Buckingham Palace from the White House
When Bianca Nobilissima, the statuesque Sea Anne-Anne anchor in her Star-Trek heat-wave get-up exposing her sculptured architectural buoy spaces from head to heel (even Mr. Spock would raise eyebrows wishing he were human) disclosed – with the riotous rowdy Westminster Parliament for a backdrop – that she would give « anything » ( ???) to be (not necessarily verbatim) « a fly on the wall » during the British premiership « changing-of-the-guard » at Buckingham Palace just to see if the new Brexit-PM would actually « kiss » Her Majesty’s graciously proffered hand or just merely « sniff » at it, to say the least, she must have had no inkling whatsoever of the grave danger she was courting for right in those phantasmagoric surroundings resides a DUDE who is a past-master at « swatting » flies whether on, against or behind the wall or, for that matter,
even through the wall !
Guess WHO was watching the same emission ? for HE, too, proclaimed how he would love to be « a fly on the wall » just to listen to growls and growses in Democratic corridors of power on impeachment designs after the Senate Mueller hearings !!!
The Teutonic strains in the principally Norman royal household might reverberate to the chilling ribaldry of the Koninklijke Chorale Caecilia --(under the baton of Paul DINNEWETH and the ethereally uplifting voices : Martine REYNERS (soprano), Philip DEFRANCQ (tenor) and Joris DERDER (baritone) -- through Carl ORFF’s care-may-the-Devil-be : CARMINA BURANA performance : http : www.al-production.be
Would that the newly-ordained PM recall the medieval poet’s Old-German
in these lines :
Were din werit alle min
von deme mere unze an den Rin,
des weht ih mih darben,
daz diu chunegin von Engellant
lege an minen armen.
Translation (taken from the internet without credits) :
Were all the world mine
from the sea to the Rhine,
I would starve myself of it
so that the Queen of England
might lie in my arms.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, July 29, 2019
There at the market place
Onlookers gathered singing the masquerade’s praise.
A visible ghost about to get loose-
Held by its companion, from fleeing like a wandering goose.
The masquerade yearns to dance
Swaying like a drunkard it needs this one chance.
Bells hung on its cloak
Cane in hand seeking a ferocious stroke.
Gloves strapped to the hand
Gins poured as libation for the gods of the land.
Cane drums banging rhythmically loud
Acrobatic flips to amuse the crowd.
The atmosphere was livid
Revealing steps so staunch and sordid.
Soon whips like rain were loosen
As the masquerade’s companions get crimson.
Hats or caps are being despised,
Whips were used on those chastised.
Ara Orun; a progeny of the heaven
Veiled by its cloak from mortal haven.
Grumbling incantations strange to our hearings,
Offerings first before the masquerade find its bearings.
Songs accompany the wailing drum-
As the air was dozed with burukutu the black man’s rum.
Jolting back and front towards the musing crowd
As the song grows eerie loud.
The masquerade sways like a possessed
Shouting to the crowd; “you are blessed.”
Buttocks gracing the sky,
Hands spread like a bird ready to fly.
Is this man or spirit-
Whose charm had enslaved the street?