Best Infraction Poems


Premium Member Ice Cube Pie

I always wanted two slices of ice cube pie
“You only get one”, was the standard reply.
I don’t know why I did
But since I was a kid
It was my favorite treat on the Fourth of July.

The pastry is known by all our relations
Since the recipe’s passed down for generations.
Every bite you’ll savoir
Exceptional flavor
But remember, don’t settle for imitations

Long ago, my great Aunt tried experiments
By leaving out one of the ingredients.
Once Uncle took a bite 
He stared out in fright
And barely survived that bad experience.

My oldest son, Johnny became quite wise
He grew up like the others, before our eyes.
His passion for confection
Was a gainful connection
When he opened the first ice cube pie franchise.

Soon after that, we made our first million
And played in the sun with friendly Brazilians.
But to our surprise
We saw ice cube pies
On bamboo platters next to our pavilion

Right away we knew this was an infraction
Without delay our family took action.
We found a private eye
Who loved our ice pie
But his research left him broken in traction.

It was apparent to us that that kind of job
Was endorsed by the brutal ice cube pie mob.
But we didn’t frown
Or give up and back down
We were going to prevail; oh, yes siree, Bob!

With a meeting of minds we gathered resources
And then undersigned the following courses.
To make sure our ices
Sold at cut-rate prices
To knock competition off its high horses.

So back at the shop we assembled platoons
To build enough pies to reach to the moons.
And made plenty dough
That allowed us to mow
Down the cube racket’s, knuckle dragging goons.

We now manage an ice cube pie monopoly
Sales started smooth, but then turned choppily.
So we eased the frustration
With another vacation
But guess what we saw in downtown Mexicali?!
Form: Limerick

First Law of Reprehensibility

I little knew the gravity of my infraction
Till I perceived the weight of your reaction
Form: Epigram

Forfeited Language

I am tied to royalty
the way oceans
are fastened to
 moon fluctuations

the way our skin
absorbs sun's radiation
with mathematical 
efficiency
producing Nubian 
improvisations

from translucent tans
and honey hued browns
to shades of ink 
that rivaled midnight
when we opened our eyes 
the earth contained starlight

 tied to royalty
we made ivory crowns
fashionable
and kings requisitioned
vines for chains

If the moon's pull
causes oceans to move
towards her
My desire must've danced
with my design 
before our skin collected
freedom's anthem

Beauty made in abstentia
baptized by indigo
 vision, piercing

One hundred years in
our language
started to fade
A cerebral infraction occurred
on the grandest scale
unimaginable 
we suffered
word extinction

man muted, forced fed
profits, I wonder
if we'd ever know truth
that didn't involve
"In God We Trust?"

My tongue wants to
form words, my mind
cannot name

Royalty, money laundered loyalty
Wordsmith
© Ts Lewis  Create an image from this poem.


The Passive Voice

THE PASSIVE VOICE (Grammar series)

In Italy a glorious Voice 
Was employed by Pavarotti
In England of voice we’ve a choice
Which sounds a little dotty

When we sing our verbs of action
The way we do, it sounds as if
We’re committing a verbal infraction
For these words can be voiced in the PASSIVE

Just consider: if someone is active
There is something that someone is doing
And you'd  think that being passive
Means that doing they are eschewing

But we need not be hopeless or cynical
Say it' s  British illogic - insanity
We'll be annoyingly rational and clinical
Causing foreigners to express profanity

However you parse it or say it
While in both voices something is done
In the ACTIVE we say who did it 
But in PASSIVE might not say which one

So in solving a murder for the fun of it
And answering: "Who fired the gun?"
We need not claim the butler 'dun of it'
But inscrutably say: "It was done"

Thus the PASSIVE is my voice of choice
For my deeds despicable or infractive
But for actions worth merit, that I rejoice
I will happily indulge in the ACTIVE.

Premium Member A September Alouette

September is here
With skies bright and clear.
Summer birds will be southbound.
Cooler breezes near.
School football we cheer.
The young quarterback is downed.

Parents go berserk,
Call player a jerk
For manhandling their loved son.
The ref's not a shirk,
Is good at his work,
Says no infraction was done.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Never Take Life Too Serious

Screw the rules is the motto I live by
Too old to toe the line
So sue me and then just try to collect
Won't be alive to pay the fine

I'll be kicking up daisies on a hill out back
As you tear out all your hair
Sure had the last laugh you **** type people
So break the rules if you dare

Rules are made to be broken I've heard
Love to see the reaction
These sillies go nutso and red in the face
At my blatant infraction

Oh for the days when we burned our garbage
In a fire pit behind our house
And just for a little excitement sometimes
We'd throw on a little mouse

Barbaric you say, I learned from the best
Daddy taught me all about life
Said “never take life too serios, my son”
You don't to go around twice


© Jack Ellison 2015
Form: Narrative


Baseball Everywhere

Elvin and Leroy were baseball players
From the time they were six years old
And best friends since the early days
A million baseball stories to be told

Their entire lives had been consumed
By the game of baseball which they
Played together all through school
Then pro-***** league as Blue Jays

Even in retirement baseball was key
Games at the ball park and on the t.v.
Indeed – it was a sad day when Elvin
Passed away from a cardio infraction

Poor Leroy was hurt and felt so alone
He had always had Elvin by his side
And now without – was totally thrown
Unable to handle that Elvin had died

Leroy missed Elvin so much that he
Kept talking to him – always his plea
“Please let me know how you’re doing
So I can quit all my silly brooding”

But nothing – no answer from Elvin
Until late one night – in the kitchen
Leroy was talking - asking his friend
For a message – some sign to be sent

Leroy was sitting at the table and
Heard Elvin so asked – “that you man”
Without hesitation the voice of Elvin
Clear as day – “It’s me – good friend”

Leroy was both shocked and ecstatic
He started talking and then did ask
About baseball in heaven – and Elvin
Said – “Leroy – it really is heaven”

“They got baseball everywhere and
You should see the fields and parks
Just like we used to dream and plan
And got beautiful lights after dark”

“That is wonderful news” – said Leroy
“Wonderful – is there any bad news”
Elvin began tentatively – “well old boy
There is some bad news I brought you”

“What bad news - Elvin ” – Leroy asked
“Tell me – whatever - be what it might “
So Leroy started slow then said it fast
“Elvin - you’re pitchin’ tomorrow night”
© I.B. Rimon  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Red White and Blue

In the court of public opinion
                               I am just an average minion
                                 I've seen so much abuse
                               Quite tempting to be a recluse

                                  Among our political division 
                               Red, White and Blue is receding 
                                  perpetual sarcastic incisions 
                                promoting further divisions

                                     I understand the stakes
                                and the great restraint it takes
                                 just don't let your call to action
                                    encourage further infraction

                                  Peaceful protest is our right
                                    Destruction of property
                                        Only adds to blight
                                    multiplying citizens fright
                                                                                                                     
                                   Of all the wars perpetrated 
                                      brother against brother
                                   at all costs, should be abated
                                   when that hate is germinated
                                       You become your enemy
                                               regurgitated   

                                       I understand the stakes
                                   and the great restraint it takes
                                   just don't let your call to action
                                     encourage further infraction

                                        RED WHITE AND BLUE
                                               We Love You

                                    

                                           
                                  
                                  
                                 
                       125wd
Form: Lyric

It's Hard To Be a Rhymer In a Free-Verse World

The "Rhymers" guild; archaic faction,
We garner all the more detraction
Less, are we, in our attraction
More, we are, the poetic infraction

When free is verse, a form accursed-
Murders Art, fetch forth a hearse
For they coerced the Poems reverse,
And left our lines inverse- perverse!

*Title is a play off "It's Hard to be a Diamond in a Rhinestone World"
Form: Rhyme

Praying For Those Who Are Lost

In the darkness of anger and jealousy;
Stumbling over petty discrepancy.
Walking on the edge of discontent;
Ideology to the extreme extent.

Friend to none and foe to most;
Enemy to their own heart's host.
Drowning in sorrow for self inflicted shames;
No responsibility accepted, only senseless blame.

The spurred male pride or a rejection;
And the object of his desire becomes his subjection.
The failing vanity of a woman scorned;
With an mistrusting vow she is reborn.

The adult child who was abandoned too young;
Who grew up to resent everyone.
The teen who was bullied into submission;
Finally succumbs to a world of addiction.

The one who was betrayed by a friend;
Becomes the next to condescend.
Feelings hurt by someone who believed;
Promises never again to wear their heart on their sleeve.

And so it begins with a minor infraction;
Spins out of control with compaction.
Circles of life, broken in pieces;
This becomes the human species.

But all hope is not completely withstanding;
If met with compassion and sincere understanding.
Loving the lost so that healing can begin;
For as long as there is life, there is spirit within.

I pray for those who have lost their way;
May Creator be their light and mainstay.
Where hurt injured their life's very course;
May love become the healing source.

Coffee Break

Sunlight falling gently through the shifting cloud-shadows and chatter. 
Unsteady breezes warm then cool the surfaces of me. 
A muffled jazz number escapes a high corner of the awning covered bistro. 
Lyrics of "He said... She said" impose themselves upon the eclectically arranged melody, 
creating Muzak of the disgruntled and overly amused. 
This cacophony of white noise glances off the growing serpentine barriers of my solitude.
Seeking myself within myself, the horns and drumbeats amplify into a soundtrack of my descent. 
Heralding the arrival of myself into myself. 
The turbid currents of my deepening waters toss me, cradle me. 
Unclean yet serene, peace begins to precipitate these particles of my cloudy fear. 
With a clarity of the Oracle's perspective I watch the images of my soul cast 
upon the cave walls of my mind.
I sit for a while as I entertain myself. 
So glad to mostly see myself. 
I am jerked back to preality by a too large man squeezing past me. 
He stoically refuses to see how his obesity has intruded upon my frailty. 
With polite remorse I forgive the infraction while settling back into my poorly disguised egobesity. 
the strings and keys are once again overwhelmed by the drivel of the blank faced crowd. 
the sharpness of the large man's cigar creates an unfavorable breeze. 
I squint into the harsh sunlight as 
I observe the retreat of my solitude with a familiar regret.

Premium Member A Magpies Rhyme

Our neighbor Edna is an incessant talker for sure
My husband says squawker, and I think so too
Weird words come out in a blather, somehow threatening
More than a bit of chatter, it is constant and nonsensical.

We call her magpie when we are alone, which is not nice.
For this infraction, we may someday atone, we know it too.
But for now, it gives us a tiny bit of satisfaction, strangely enough.
Edna’s words are fired forth in a spewing action, her ideas open.

It’s like every thought in her head has to come forth.
Does she keep nothing for herself? To make fun of us perhaps?
Her ways are curious to us, and her rhymes are twisted and disjointed.
A dash from subject to subject, and quickly back. It is difficult to follow.

There is a rhythm to her madness. She dances to her own rhymes.
Magpie’s rhymes. I like the sound of this, decide to write a poem.
Can never tell Edna of her help though, for she is an incessant talker.
Never listens to anyone else, thinking only her thoughts are important.

Sonnets On Wisdom and Age

SONNET(S) ON WISDOM and AGE
When I was young my folly knew no bounds.
Though some may say the perimeter’s been extended.
I now confess my ignorance, giving me grounds
To think that some false knowledge has been amended
Full many have sought enlightenment as their quest
Some ascended peaks of wisdom and marked the way
Yet interspersed their lives with faults manifest
Transcendent knowledge could not lift feet of clay
So perhaps a degree of common sense and prudence
Would be a more rewarding aspiration
Giving increased self respect and sin’s avoidance 
To live lives with more fulfilling destination
Still I hope that I achieve before my demise
A state of being a little less unwise

But on the other hand ……..

Away with common sense and ruling caution
I no longer have the time for such restriction
I’ll not go with care and mete out every portion
But live life without consent or benediction
There are two diverse types of sin which to admonish
There are those of commission in other words ‘the done ones’
Then those we should’ve but didn't, and it may astonish
We feel guilt though without the pleasure of ‘the fun ones’
Now if we do, there's a risk of errant action
So we shy the primrose path to the permanent bonfire
But should we do nought, our inaction ensures infraction
So we might as well take our chance and perhaps reach higher
Though in deeds that damage another we may be chagrined
Let us otherwise throw caution to the wind
Form: Sonnet

Where For Jesus

********

Fore the people 
Did weep!
And the people
      Did pray....
And for the sake
      Of GOD
Their was no delay
      ------
He has done it again'
On the Third Day
      ------
And once again
He had carried the day'
One less day of frustration
Another day for Restoration
And thus....
With-out infraction
His Will was done
That man was born
With-out distraction
In His own image....


           Poet Author
           Gary Fields

copyright Apr2012
Form: Bio

The Palms

THE PALMS
As dawn child brings a new illumination
Among the palms are hints of gentle motion
Their fronds now stir in elegant activation
Like ladies with refinement: a devotion
Their fluent gestures smoothing interaction
Smiles bows and fans precluding all infraction

As day advances so increasing breeze
Lends greater life to trees and single boughs
The movement still of graceful bending ease
With strength and rhythm in their measures now
Our ladies pair with gallants to advance
The shapes and movements of a courtly dance

With each increase of wind, zephyr to gale
Their motions are more restless in reaction
'til branches thrash in protest at the travail
Separate or clinging daring final fraction
At the end they live the turmoil staying whole
And return to temper tranquil free of toll

Have these trees collective recall - eight days in history 
They were spread with glad 'Hosannas!' to greet a King
But in less than a week to witness the tragic mystery
When darkness enveloped the land, and all hope took wing
Did they thrash and writhe to protest unjust, cruel inequity
Yet, the third day, stand in new hope and beauteous serenity
Form: Rhyme

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