Best High Priced Poems
She was definitely a strange girl,
Many odd and weird things I have heard;
She dreamt of riches,
Silk robes,
Rich husband,
Deepest bag of diamonds,
High-priced banquets,
Treated like a princess.
From the church the bells tolled,
Her wedding was due,
Hip hip hurrah,
I met the spoilt bride,
She held her breath,
Balanced with fears,
Her man arrived in time,
She was only eighteen,
He was nineteen, fifty years ago,
Married three times,
Widowed three times.
Beside her he knelt with difficulty,
She looked at his wrinkled face,
His cotton white hair,
His hands shaken,
But he was made of money….
Who cares….
Her eyes blinked,
Who cares…
Ill-fated is this married life,
Ominous prediction for this wife;
Still he was rich,
She was a,
Birds of a feather,
Spurious and preposterous,
For she’s eighteen,
He’s sixty-nine….
Wondering if he manages this sexual position!
I'm not overly fond of receiving a family's annual gushing story,
In the form of a Christmas Letter stating that all is hunky-dory.
I received one the other day in which they told the honest truth,
And I'll relay its contents though of me it may be somewhat uncouth!
"My son Jimmy who was in the army gave a sergeant a lot of sass,
And was unceremoniously invited to leave the service by the army brass!
Daughter Sarah became in a 'family way' bringing me much disgrace.
The father of the kid left the state and of him there is not a trace!"
"Son Robert attempted to rob a bank and now languishes in jail.
The judged sentenced him to twenty years sans the benefit of bail.
My husband up and left me for that hussy waitress at Joe's Cafe.
That left me with little money, having to keep bill-collectors at bay!"
"My sister fell on hard times and moved in with her three little brats.
She also brought along three hounds, a nasty parrot and two hissing cats!
My trusty old 85 Chevy blew a rod and left me without wheels;
I can't afford another car because of outrageously high-priced deals!"
She goes on to say, "I hope all has gone well at your house this year.
As you can see, this past year ain't been one for me of great cheer!"
I appreciated her honesty but found her dismal plight quite appalling.
Her letter left me quite bereft and before you know it, I started bawling!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
The last-call lights flickered once more
A warning sign she chose to ignore
Her soul, just like her pocketbook
Was as empty as inside the glass she looked
The bartender said, “Lass, you now must leave”
As she wiped her tears on a tattered sleeve
With no place left in the world to go
She ventured out in the freshly fallen snow
The beauty that she once wore with pride
Had long ago shriveled up and died inside
Her vanity had taken its high priced toll
Leaving behind a lost and lonely soul
Girls who were much less popular than she
Now bask in a love life of prosperity
While she is a smile in many a lad’s past
The less frivolous girls have had the last laugh
Now her love is something she can’t give away
None of the men she devoured elected to stay
That pint she just drained with her last sip
Is the only thing left willing to touch her lips
Her lights flickered their own last call
As she ached for some more alcohol
Twas the night before Christmas and what do I see
A table full of credit card bills laying before me
I wanted to make this the best Christmas ever
Did I think I'd spend this much? Never!
So I bought her a mink and some diamond rings
And lots of other sparkly things
The daughter wanted a new car to go with her cell phone
And the son came out of the basement begging for a high priced drone
Next year is going to be rough
For I don't know how I'll pay for all this stuff
This is not a happy Christmas eve
For no one thought about a gift for me
The night before poetry contest
Sponsored by : Joseph May
11/22/18
The men of the Alamo knew there was little to no chance,
As they stood valiant in defiance of Santa Anna’s devastating advance.
Such a paradox these men faced knowing death would be their certain fate,
Their unselfish courage is part of what makes this country so great.
Refusing to live under the hand of a tyrant they chose to stand ready to fight,
Those men never tasted the sweetness of victory as they fought for what was right.
Their sacrifice was not to be in vain for it gave Houston the time he would need,
To finish recruiting and training his men for this one final deed.
Houston caught Santa Anna by surprise that April day in 1836 as the cry of Remember the
Alamo rang loud and clear.
Badly beaten, Santa Anna signed the Treaty of Velasco, granting Texas its independence
which we hold so dear.
Texas has spawned many heroes since, as freedom is not a gift but a very high priced
commodity,
One that has cost countless life’s in this quest to be free.
From the Alamo to Pearl Harbor to the Shores of Tripoli,
Lies a trail of American blood, spilt to keep us safe so we can live free.
And to the young warriors now that have taken on this monumental task,
Give them all strength and courage, but above all keep them safe in Jesus’ name I do ask.
We weren't rich by any means
but our bellies were full and our clothes were clean
They didn't display those high priced names
but they wore fine just the same
We didn't ride around in fancy cars
Grandma saved pennies in a big glass jar
We learned early that money doesn't grow on trees
we also learned to say "thank you" and "please"
I mowed the grass in the summertime
My sister helped hang the clothes on the line
My cousin usually took out the trash
On Friday we'd each get seven dollars cash
At nigh we slept under a big window fan
It made the most comforting sound when it ran
We put a beaten on that old screen door
We must have popped it a million times or more
In the Fall we'd all gather up wood
and invite every kid in the neighborhood
Grandaddy would build us a pretty good fire
We'd all roast hotdogs on coat hanger wires
Our first roller skates had metal wheels
with rubber stoppers on the backs of the heels
We had a paved alley alongside the house
You could see sparks when we skated around
Every couple of years we'd get a new bike
We'd attach playing cards to all of the spikes
We'd attach them with grandma's wooden clothespins
so it would sound like our bikes had motorcycle engines
As I look back on our childhood
I think we had it pretty good
We didn't need all the fancy stuff
We had each other and that was enough
Grandma's house was our favorite place
We'd never felt more loved and safe
That old house was home to us
It was the best even when we'd fight and fuss
Those memories to me are so crisp and clear
I will always hold them very dear
Poverty and poetry
No bard is poor
But indeed all
For he sings
For he weeps
When time demands
His pocket is poor
But his heart rich.
His books, his heir
His pens, his tools
His pains, his property
His poverty, his poetry
His poetry, his publicity
His publicity, his problem
His problem, high priced volumes
His wishes to buy all
His pocket sighs
Why on earth publishers shelf
Makes him rich
And we wait in queues
To correct our vision.
In his fancies, he rules
But in reality, he is ruled
What makes him write
Is no currency notes
His blood flooded with tears
To narrate common woe.
A Beautiful Death
High on a hill hidden by shrubs
I am embraced by the branches of trees
I am worshiped by nature
I hide from the exhaustion of humanity’s harassment
I am safe from the horrendous appetite of others
Here comes a high-priced counselor hollering about an inheritance bequeath by my ancestors
He does not pay homage to the harmonic hum of creation
He swats at the harmless honeybees hovering in non-threating swarms
He fails to hear the healing hymns shared by my Father
He has hunted me down to handover hundreds and thousands worth of useless currency
How did he find me?
He is horrified when I asked him to keep his check
Instead…give me what the Spartans called “A beautiful death.”
When moments of melancholy manipulate my mind
I remain in my imagination
Where merry memories as a minor make me remember mere minutes of mirth
Immediately I am reminded of how miserable my millennium has become
My emotions seem meaningless
My time on Mother Earth, a mistake
Remarkably my mood mutates
And I ask My Lord for mercy;
Remove me from this realm
And give me what the Spartans call “A beautiful death.”
Quietly in my coffin—tricked into wearing a tux
A comical smirk marks my mask
I could have collapsed on a corner
Countless wouldn’t have noticed
One more cigarette would have been nice—
Because cancer did not caress my corpse
So-called companions circle my casket
Consoling each other with questions
They are all concerned… “Suicide?” they asked
They sincerely think they could have rescued me
From the epic conclusion of my existence
Their cold-hearts in chaos—they are infected with karma
Could The Creator resurrect me back to collect compensation for their cruelty?
I would decline
Let me relax in peace
And keep what the Spartans call “A beautiful death.”
A penny for your thoughts my mother used to say
I wondered if she thought my thoughts were worth just a penny
Conversations at our house were mostly one-way
She would say children are to be seen not heard, times_many
I wondered if she thought my thoughts were worth just a penny
She didn't encourage me to speak anyway
She would say children are to be seen not heard, times_ many
Those thoughts just bounced around in my head everyday
She didn't encourage me to speak anyway
She said I asked as many questions as high priced attorney
Those thoughts just bounced around in my head everyday
Because I was not free to speak mind went on journey
She said I asked as many questions as high priced attorney
Conversations at our house were mostly one-way
Those thoughts just bounced around in my head everyday
A penny for your thoughts my mother used to say
Written: 08/09/2012
When Tax Season Comes
When tax season comes, I relax...
not worried cause I have my facts
along with a friend
that helps to the end...
my financial aide, Turbo Tax!
So simple, it says what to do...
just type numbers in, click review.
No big fees to pay
high-priced C P A...
sends it to the I R S too!
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: Tax and Finance Limericks - Old or New
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
Judged: 12/31/2018
Chasing a dream, she peddles her body
and dresses sexy, though never gaudy.
Catering to upper society,
high-priced call girls project propriety.
Easily enticed by riches, she yearns,
sex fuels the flames as innocence burns.
And selling favors for dollars and fame,
she pimps herself; it's all part of the game.
When paper passions and desires unfold;
sex isn't intimate; it is something sold.
And words of sincerity ring hollow
amidst phony smiles; men pay to follow.
Tomorrows cannot be freely explored,
for feelings are subdued when love is whored.
And abandoning family and friends,
circumventing objections; she pretends.
Reality exasperates her plight,
piercing awareness like slivers of light.
And, anguish slowly envelopes her soul,
for her lifestyle levies a heavy toll.
*Image of Night Out Ideas by S.CA
Guys Night Out
We're going to see a show on Broadway,
About the navy called "Anchors Aweigh,"
A high-priced meal was too much a cliche,
So we settled for a sidewalk cafe,
Listening to street bands, playing reggae,
Our waitress came with a varied entree,
Great meal, as well as the service, per se,
We gave a tip and a note to convey,
The show waits; we're hoping there's no ballet.
2022 August 29
*4th Place*
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
~~Brian Strand
*RZ & HMS; 10 syllables per 9 lines.
Armed and Clumsy
New York City
Ralik Hansen had pulled off a heist
Jewelry that was high priced
He was all alone
Hiding out in his home
When he himself was then iced
It wasn’t a rival or cop
That followed him home from the shop
A delivery man
With a package in hand
And it happened to be his last stop
When he heard a knock on the door
He crawled under the couch on the floor
Thinking it was the law
His gun he did draw
It went off and now he is no more
Pinellas Park, Fla
Dennis Emery, according to friends
Brandished a gun now and then
A domestic dispute
Thinking he would be cute
His brandishing came to an end
The cops said that this was the case
He twirled the gun with some pace
The trigger he found
As he twirled it around
And he shot himself then in the face
A couple of true stories from your Uncle Mike
when you get old enough,and are like me,you want to solve mysteries.
my oldman being the case,
very violent
never knew consequences for his actions.
his father protected him,spent thousands of dollars in bailing him out of jail
spent even more in most cases in providing high priced attorney's to aid his son in Federal crimes.
my oldmans mother owned a saloon and died early in his life,this loss sent him into destruction....
drinking
hard drugs
fire arms
murder
domestic violence
infidelity
armed robbery would become Frankie Boy's menu.
what makes this tale complicated is that in his mayhem he was in is own right a Renaissance man.he loved horses taught him self how to ride,he was a lefty in playing golf.
he wanted to be a undertaker because he saw it's money making potential
he wanted to be a Police officer but there was a hiring freeze
he flew small airplanes as a crop duster.
so when telling this story you need to take a breath.
what do you make of a man who loved silence on top of the roof of an apartment building then in that same place take a 12 gage shotgun and from that roof top kill a man in the street.
in time a car accident did him in,caused him paralysis from his neck down
he would die in hospital
with assistance of drugs that were injected into his IV by one of his visiting druggie friends.
so before the angels came,he died in bed
shhhhhh.
Gold
metal
so precious
yellow color
it's praised by many
used to make jewelry
both malleable and ductile
conducts electricity well
was once used to mint coins for money
it's traded on exchanges and high-priced