Best Jetting Poems


Pavement of Repetition Part 2

You were so 
full of life and
uniqueness and inspiration 
to those like me 
looking for a voice 
to cry out and be 
oneself, shuffle off
such mortal coil 
and fly high above 
the elements of 
repetition.
Yet I saw your 
roots now, they 
run deep, breaking 
free from the cold 
pavement and saw 
life jetting up

You friend are birthed, 
live die and are 
born anew in all 
uniqueness. You don't
conform to one mold 
but are willing to 
change with the seasons 
of life and just be.
Be green
Be red
Be brown
Be puke-green
Be old
Be young
Be new
Be you 
you are the teacher 
of this poem 
Be yourself 
and look up from 
the pavement of 
repetition
Categories: jetting, lifelife,
Form: Free verse

Twas the Night Before the Wedding

Twas the night before my cousin's 
wedding
He reluctantly gave in to the 
bachelor party vetting
A burlesque, tawdry strip club was 
the setting
Unbeknownst to him, the bridesmaid 
was his appetite whetting
With gratuitous lap dance, began 
the ribald feting
In drunken stupor, the enamored 
groom his fealty forgetting
Released his inhibitions all of his 
clingy garments shedding
Strode platform, in sync with 
bridesmaids erotic moves duetting
In tantric rhapsody, she released 
pheromones his testosterone 
subletting
Enraptured with his riposte jaunts, 
her matrimonial bond shredding
The enamored bridesmaid with lust 
his bare essentials began petting
His betrothed parts to her 
dominatrix will indebting
As the groom climaxed, his phallus 
got entangled in her fish netting
Two truant souls now writhing; 
spent body parts bloodletting
Dislodging their carnal chains, into 
frothy night jetting
To hotel that lodged devoted bride; 
their remaining passions bedding
 Lurid, tawdry tryst not regretting; 
but o'er bawdy exhibition sweating






Wedding contest
September 14, 2012
Categories: jetting, funnynight, night,
Form: Rhyme

Corporate Greed

Corporate Greed


                             Corporate greed has turn the tides
                                 White collar thieves are on the rise.
                             Bail out pleas for companies on their knees,
                             economic meltdowns caused by Ponzi schemes .

                             Investors now in total confusion, after realizing
                                      they'd chased riches illusions.
                              Mortgage collapse, first blamed on the poor,
                              lies and greed perpetrated by corporate whores,
                              constantly scamming for more and more.

                               Financial calamity, brought on by greedy insanity 
                                              banks running on blanks. 
                                              whistle-blowers got frank,
                               sophisticated criminals jetting off with pals ,
                               at times treating hard-working employees less than 
                                                          their animals.

                                Off to prison they should all go , just like anyone else 
                                                that steal that much dough.
                                Corporate greed is on the rise , check your investments
                                                             and be wise.
Categories: jetting, usa,
Form: ABC

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Year of Living Dangerous

just missed that
jagged
sidewalk 
crack
earthquake caused it 
Bobby said

A jetting eye
caught the rocker coasting
to and fro
on a sad white porch
March 1968

They said you were crazy
and to steer clear
but I gave you an apple
producing a smile
a laugh
and the freedom to just be

We Kelly'd around a lamp post
losing track of time 
in the warm twilight
of childhood 
and life
then you shared with me a secret

a tree, knot, hole

that held a mother load
of silver
foil

and we were richer than rich
till my dinner bell rang
while your hidden voices sang
in March 1968
Categories: jetting, childhood, innocence, mom,
Form: Narrative

Lust In Alphebetical Order

Again, alone awake accidental?  
barely by blunt brain burdens  
curtains... cut crooked carefully  
draped dangerously during dusk,  
every emotion enhanced euphoric 
from finger, face & freckle.... 
gingerly grasping gestures growing gracefully.  
hesitant hands hold his heart's hastily. 
I imagine important 
jitters, jetting, jumping, 
knocking knees knowing.... 
luscious , lustful lips longing… 
makes more magic memories... 
nighttime necessity never neglects... 
open obsessions of our objectives  
prevail... pleasure, pure puzzle piece poison.  
Quiet questions quench quarries...  
random, rare, rational realities,  
suggestions so stimulating senses savoring sex, 
smooth skin... 
timeless tales, the tactic touch. 
Ultimately unclothed unknown & unavoidable  
valuable venom varies vindictively. 
We wait within wind whirls, wondering  
xenophile in xanadu xeroxing  
your youthful years yearning  
zestful, zany & zone free
Categories: jetting, feelings, love, lust, psychological,
Form: ABC

Premium Member Little Ms Mommy

Little Ms. Mommy broke her tuffet. You know, that white porcelain thingy.
She sat down too hard and you can believe, that it broke every seam, completely.
Now snickers started about and around the house, but that’s OK… you see.
It had a crack she did claim, or so she exclaimed, or maybe two more or three.

But then again, the rumors traveled around, originating from the hardware store.
Then someone keeled over, he laughed so hard, and brought it to the news at four.
It’s one of those days, Ms. Mommy said, as she got her 15 minutes of fame.
But that’s OK; she was presented with a free, and ultra modern bidet, to claim.

Now this one will last forever and a day, since the buttons confuse her, so much.
And water can be a frightening thing, when you don’t expect it jetting, as such.
Now it became an amazing thing, as she built a private and heated, outhouse.
Anything, to get away, from the annoying thing, devouring her mind and house.

She’d never admit, how distraught she is, for fear, all the more, they would laugh.
The irony is, she’s happy again, as she blazes a path to her own little illustrious...
Outhouse….
Categories: jetting, fantasy, funny, humor, humorous,
Form: Light Verse


Premium Member Avalon

Far beyond mans intrusions, 
A vast hidden world lives on.
An ancient fortress lost amidst,
Historical reference, a faded shade,
Amongst remembrances memory.
Imagination limitless vision, 
Separating conscious truth, 
And make believers legendary
Spree.
Conjuring mystical thoughts,
Simply, Drifting aloft, 
Revealing a forgotten golden age. 
Let castaways adventurers fly away 
Into magics paradise,
As sunshine's rays, flicker amidst 
Mid summers softening light. 
Illuminating forgotten stone gardens, 
Secret courtyards in splendors array.
Rose covered vines, weaving down 
Walled trellises evergreen.
Ruined towers jetting upward, 
Blanketed by thickened mosses
Torrents.
Crystal clear water streams, forth 
Through cupid fountains.
Nesting song birds, sing loves, 
Harmonious music.             
Wooing hearts at winged flight.
Glide without tethers strings, 
Rejoicing carefree, 
Within natures solitude.
Reclining, beside a shaded, 
Willow tree I'm resting,
Completely to mine ease.
Watching clouds placing,
Ideally, 
By as dusken stars.
Pass beneath nights, 
Blackening sky’s.
Knowing at last the beauty, 
That is Avalon.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: jetting, adventure, beautiful, dream, fantasy,
Form: Free verse

Eagle Soar

Did you ever see an eagle soar?
Majestic, gliding eloquently in the high air.
Our perception is the way they fly.
As clouds surround them so far up in the sky.

When they spot their prey, they zoom to the target.
Instantly jetting to the earth, there’s no stopping it.
Talons like vices they grasp their prey.
Fly off instantly, and they are fed for the day.

All flying creatures are amazing in their beauty.
On instincts, they surely survive it’s their duty.
We as men are truly amazed at their grace.
Flying, turning in the air, at a tremendous pace.

The Lord has made this earth for man to possess.
A gift from God to man are his loving ways and grace.
Love is our Father’s edict, Love His creations.
Man should take heed this is a Love inbred in us, to Love all the nations.

We, no matter what, bleed the same color-red.
No matter of race, we are human we shouldn’t dread.
Following the Commandment, “Thou shall not kill”
God is telling us to Love, it is what our Father wills!
Categories: jetting, faith, love,
Form: Rhyme

She Loves Me She Loves Me Not

She loves me she loves me not...

Just my luck that when juiced a lad
din grammar school, aye own every
rhyme and reason tubby mad
every friggin time boyhood fingers
plucked petals off flowered daisy...

just as well, a relief and more than glad
tomb hiss out on doing the wild thang
and be'n totally tube yule lore lee baad
yea, how boring squirreled away
voraciously reading 'bout some cad

oh my dog...I too could write story
"FAKE" steamy extramarital liaison add
chocolate flavored Glynnis (Msgeegee),
whereby celibate chap goes stir crazy - egad
yours truly drives back to her pad

within sketchy part of West Philadelphia
starring as chief protagonist
none other then... yupper this dad
until caught with pants down (figuratively)
thine missus both angry at me and sad

I immediately unapologetic longed to gad
about even jetting setting off to Vlad
divest stock to escape wrath cull bile
daily spewed phlegm at me - wad
off by bajillion miles wife got poor aim

cruel colorful epithets coarse expletives had
filled beyond capacity to resist or tolerate
hence, yours truly sought to skad
had dude dull married life awkward fit
analogous, incongruous, perilous

why dead men don't wear plaid
they make no bones about
nor act self flesh deathly quiet
oblivious toward latest fad
mouldering into dust

whereby gravesites sprout weeds
mother nature's couture clad
eroded tombstone disintegrating
vanishing without trace
unremembered story...
unlike Odyssey and Illiad.
Categories: jetting, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Elegy

Being Human

Technology,
Just a time travel away!
Did people become so brilliantly clever!
Within a blink of an eye,
Evolving superhuman beings,
From cavemen to inventors,
Hunter-gatherers,
To knowledge condensers,
Traveling thousands of miles,
Within the speed of light,
From horse and cart,
To jetting across the universe,
Life at a fast pace,
Messages that can travel,
Around the world and back,
With one scientific click,
How amazingly human is that,
Mobile phones and internet,
Knowledge is the future,
How far can technology travel?
Faster than a time machine, 
Gadgets for every occasion,
With comfort, luxury and splendour,
Everything for this generation’s need,
I think my mobile phone makes me more human
My mother thinks otherwise!

07/07/2016
For contest
Being Human
Sponsor John Hamilton
Categories: jetting, poetry, universe,
Form: Free verse

Out Riding

I have seen,
Time and time again, our rise and fall
But not what passes between. 
However, my reflection stays the same. 
As I ride through the brush and green mesquite
Late in the evening. 

And while the sun goes,
Spilling the sights, and casting shadows far in their elongated flight
Jetting towards the night
High above and below alike, 
another day is reclaimed by the west. 

And, within that balance struck
from up on a horses back 
lies behind the creaking tack
a way, past the minutia.
A place, where nights and days fade 
for the fluid movements between them. 

And so, begins a subtle breeze
	I hadn't noticed it before it had already past me
As if a response to the sun-day's sending 
gleaming rings like tangerine
And facing the applause I pause to watch
the wind run fingers through the hairlike grass
A tender act, quite loving in fact
As if this moment they share
along with a deep sadness to part.

However, they must know that the spring cannot begin
without either of them both
and so the grass and wind promise to unite again 
when the time is right.

No fear of the night
and heedless of their most distant dreams
Deepest sleeps
or even faced with the stark differences their lives have seen
	To find each-other, no matter the cold
and never let go
	of knowing high hopes can lead
to things far larger than them both. 

	-And perhaps someday 
		So will I.
Categories: jetting, break up, grief, lonely,
Form: Cowboy Poetry

Premium Member Le Squirrel Sat For Le Painter

Le Squirrel Sat For Le Painter

His canvass set
And oils based,
He zeroed onto her providence.
His lips miming
Rhode Island here
Big Apples there.
She scowled her impatience.
Her eyes dismissing his.
Although,
Him noting her dark chocolates,
Sweet looking,
Cloaked as balls of fire,
And a posture gorgeous and erect.
And so was he.
She was a beauty
And a beast ...
As levity was short on her,
But long on him.
If only she would give in
It would make for better strokes,
A better potrait.
Thus ill fated
In his mind,
This potrait sat on thin ice.
Little squirrels jumping in,
Ski jumping off her nose.
Swoosh!
Another one.
Swoosh!
The third missed.
Crash landing on her lap,
Smiling.
A caricature off and galloping.
His horse neighing in absentee.
Seeds of a lampoon sprouting.
His mind jumping
To conclusions.
He raced.
The potrait moaned.
He dabbled a little oil here,
A little oil there.
A pinch of rouge
On her cheeks and lips,
And highlighting a reflection
In her pupils.
Chocolates never looked so bitter.
He finished with sparkles
In her hair, flaming.
He paused,
Adding a little depth 
and gradation to her forehead,
pointed and blunt,
like a squirrel posing at his party.
After all she was.
For hues,a reddish brown, and swirls, 
No mistaking that of Le Squirrel.
He had a little ways to go
And a lifetime of laughter.
He added squirrels jetting
From her mouth and ears.
And that bushy tail, 
He thought
Wiser of not making
Her into a **** star
His mind thinking,
her seated, the bushy tail 
jetting up between her thighs.
No.
Upon realization,
her eyes squinting at the portrait
in disbelief,
Le Squirrel screamed.
The shrill heard around town,
Making the artist rise.

connie pachecho

8/31/17

Inspired to write this poem after reading entries
to the Artwork-Poetry Contest
Categories: jetting, art, betrayal, parody,
Form: Personification

Art,Love,Music: My Doctor Quack

Art,
Love,
Music,
Together
Superb masterpiece
Coercing blood in veins - jetting
Inoculating sinew,strength,life and puissance
Antibiotics - soothing,relieving,numb and feeble within excruciation.
Categories: jetting, art
Form: Fibonacci

Bennie

He does not answer when I speak,
     the severed head in the picnic basket,
nor do the swarming flies on the muslin sack,
     buzzing on the dried blood, concern him overmuch.
I still speak to him as ice chunks melt
     about his rotting skull, and he rolls with a soft bump
on the passenger seat.
     “Al, baby, we’re gonna find out what this is all about.
You and me, Al, we’re gonna find out.”
     Mexico shimmers and burns through
dust and dirt, gunfire, filth and murder, and we drive
     the backroads in the hammered paint scarred red car,
backfiring clouds of exhaust, pollutant patches of hell.
     Gunshots echo through my mind,
bodies pirouette in slow motion, tissue quake ensues,
     jetting blood through ripped cloth:
“Why? Because it feels so damn good, that’s why.”
     I never had much to speak of, dreams, a girl and a piano,
now my girl is dead and all I have left
     is a car, a gun and a severed head in a picnic basket.
And in place of dreams, a heart of darkness and
     this impregnable death wish…
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: jetting, allegory, art, death, life,
Form: Blank verse

Conneticutt

a cut little state
jetting out to the ocean
plenty of chill time
Categories: jetting, art,
Form: Haiku
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