Best Joe Poems
He sits upon the edge of tomorrow,
lost in his little world full of sorrow.
Sands of time have no patience for his pain,
bemused and confused he can't feel the rain.
You ask, but his excuses feel so lame,
so it's no surprise he's forgotten your name.
He buries his heart behind a steel shield,
cares not if you're still hurting or have healed.
He craves to sit in chapel like silence,
as church bells alarm his mind with violence.
Voices torment, where did it all go wrong?
His guitar rebels, cares not for his last song.
Doctors don’t know how to save this John Doe.
A once kind man, his friends called Smiley Joe.
Silent One
16 October 2019
Mister Joe, poet, jangles loose change in his pocket,
Jogging memories and garnering thoughts as he walks.
For Mr. Joe's brain washes, tumbles and dries,
his gems of thoughts in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up, extracted, pegged, and hung up to dry,
To taunt and flap jangles for him, his readers and strangers near by.
Mister Joe's charm icons are processed, mulled over, distilled and wrung out for meaning within.
His jangles find meaning in bumps on smooth paper, read as Braille.
His jangles arise from stones skipped over calm smooth waters,
yielding meaning in the creases and ripples created.
His jangles rattle his sleep awake each night, with sky rockets of images and flashes bursting.
His jangles are a empowering, rewarding, revealing, enlightening,
and sometimes troubling and haunting, but can't be undone.
His jangles are his rhyme and reason, his friend and confidant, his mater and aether
His jangles are really what he's all about as a poet,
as a miner and peddler of ideas, and as a prophet and revealer.
Mister Joe's charms jangles the minds of his readers
His words cast nets to trawl up memories and concepts,
lured within the reader's mind with word play and twists.
Seas of dreams and memories are netted, prodded and poked
To yield twinkles, sparkles, hums, grunts, and nods of appreciation and delight.
His jangles finding meaning and echoes with links and associations, never before conceived nor considered.
Mister Joe's catch of memories once jangled, are returned to reader with care
Embellished and enthralled by meaning, relevance, word play and twists.
The reader now has new jangles to add to charm bracelet on wrist, or to jingle with loose change in pocket.
Mister Joe, the poet, and his reader, now walk and dance with jangles, jingling echoes within.
As You Have Your Cup Of Joe, Each New Morn
As you have your cup of Joe, each new morn
Think of Life as dawn in glory is born
See those gleaming rays sun casts in its glow
For this world does daily its splendor show.
If you want more, try to hear birds singing
For Mother Nature her gift is bringing
Greater joy and beauty that pleases man
As was its call and in God's divine plan.
As day flows forth with its many treasures
Consider Love's gifts, its deepest pleasures
Under soft moon and with her heart so true
Give thanks for sweet kisses as they accrue.
As you have your cup of Joe, each new morn.
Think of Life as dawn in glory is born.
Robert J. Lindley, 9-29-2019
Sonnet, ( Early Morn, Drinking Coffee, Watching The Birds Play )
They were married for sixty-seven years.
Lovely she still was to him,
though wrinkled of face and hair of pure snow.
Entwined hearts forever held sparkle and glow.
Honestly believing, he was the luckiest man alive.
Just thankful to be by her side,
sharing her life and giving her all that he could.
But fate did loom, bringing unmerciful doom....
she died a long time too soon....
leaving a lonely and broken-hearted man.
To his son, he said, "Say it ain’t so, Joe!
Just say it ain’t so!
She can’t be gone.
She’s been with me so long.
What can I do without her?"
As news spread throughout the town,
many a friend came to call.
He tried to maintain, but three months away,
his heart just couldn’t withstand.....he died that day.
Mourned, his daughter to her brother, amid flowing tears:
"Say it ain’t so, Joe!
Please say it ain’t so!"
CATCH PHRASE: SAY IT AIN'T SO, JOE
Contest Sponsored by: Deborah Guzzi
Won: 5th Place
Joe The Plumber announced he was runnin' fer Congress the other day!
Congratulations, Joe! You the man! Fer you I shout, "Hooray!"
Tell 'em like it is as you did with Obama - show 'em you won't be outdone!
And, Joe, take yer plumbers' kit - you'll need it to repair the damage done!
Include screwdrivers to tighten the screws on higher taxes and spendin',
And yer biggest wrench to shut off the flow of governmental lendin'!
Take yer solderin' arn so as to solidify warm relationships with yer peers,
And a pipe cutter to cut off zany filibusterin' that is tiresome to yer ears!
You'll need a hundred rolls of duct tape to stem the flow of inane babble,
And gallons of Liquid Plummer to unclog the stalemate of that useless rabble!
A good pipe wrench will come in handy to tighten the discipline in that 'joint',
And a twelve-foot stepladder to rise above that rotten mob to make yer point!
Joe, show 'em what real 'change' is meant to be with a new 'shower' of hope!
Flush political correctness down the john that's gotten us on this slippery slope!
Be sure to take yer roto-rooter and clean the sewer that is Washington, DC!
Use yer most powerful hose to flush the whole mucked-up mess out to sea!
Robert L. Hinshaw,CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
*Come and listen to my tale about a man named Joe.
Who was Jesus Christ? Well, he didn't really know'
Then one day he read John, Chapter three;
His eyes were opened up and he began to see.
Pearls of truth, that is; wisdom, pure love'
First thing you know, ol' Joe did repent,
Of things he had done and places where he went.
His life turned around in such a drastic change.
That family and friends thought he was really strange'
A loose cannon, that is; three bricks shy of a full load'
Joe began to read, and he began to pray;
The Lord began to show him a new and living way'
He taught Joe how he could walk in love,
Just like his Heavenly Father above.
In Holiness, that is; sanctified; uprightly.
Ol' Joe kept a-studying and he kept on a-growing'
By his testimony the kinsfolks knew where he was goin'.
He would witness on the corner and even on the stairs,
When persecution rose up, he didn't have a care.
Total peace; surrendered; anxious for nothing'
Joe loved to talk to people- that became his ministry.
He turned many souls from a God-less eternity'
And as Joe advanced in his earthly years,
He became ever more thankful for Jesus, so dear.
Wonderful counselor; Saviour; friend'
Now it's time to say goodbye to Joe and all his friends.
They would like to thank "y'all" for kindly droppin' in
You're each invited to join Joe for all eternity,
To worship at God's Throne and praise His Majesty'
Arthur Ball (H.S.L.P.)
March 4, 2007
*With apologies to " The Beverly Hillbillies"
'
Hot August, 1974, I was back for my second year at college,
having just settled into a new place at Anita Apartments,
right next to the guys’ apartment complex called Tanner’s.
My first night, we answered a knock at our door.
Steve Dietrich, a friend of my roommate, entered our apartment,
but my eyes went immediately to the younger man with him.
That would be his brother Joel, there for his first year at BYU.
My first thought was this: How shy he is, so reserved. . . but so adorable.
He was tall and thin and cute as the dickens.
They stayed for just a while, and by the time they left,
I’d formulated my big plan:
to get to know this boy Joel (who everyone just called Joe).
There was to be a parking lot dance that weekend,
and so I waited expectantly, hoping all week
to catch a glimpse of this boy I’d found so attractive,
but no matter how often I strolled past his apartment,
my opportunity for a “chance encounter” never occurred.
The night of the dance arrived and I was right there,
all decked out in my colorful tight top with bellbottoms,
long luscious lashes curled and pink frost lipstick applied.
When I caught sight of Joel, he was slow dancing with some girl.
A blonde with glasses, she was rather plain and smaller than me.
I was not pleased to see her with Joe, and I thought to myself:
Hmmmm, who does she think she is? I saw him first,
and he is NOT going to stay with her tonight.
As they danced, I fixed my eyes on him,
my beautiful, long-lashed, sultry green eyes.
He looked up and saw me then. I must have taken him by surprise
because I did not lower my gaze.
I wanted him to know that he was going to be mine,
so I willed him with my gaze to break away from that blonde
and come to me.
And so he did. . the rest is history.
Beside me at this moment, lying on our bed, watching TV,
is the man who today bears little resemblance to that
very young man I met 35 years ago.
I turn to him and ask, “Do you remember the VERY first time you saw me?”
He replies, “I don’t know; a parking lot dance?”
Well, at least he came close. . .
For Frank Herrera's Contest: Love Story
FROZEN JOE/
A hardy young fellow called Joe
Went out with no clothes in the snow
Certain bits turned to ice
And then snapped off – not nice
So he now spells his name J-o
30th December 2020
Winter Snow or Ice contest
Sponsor - Tania Kitchin
WHEELIE BIN JOE
On the north side of Brisbane lives a man who does no wrong,
He pongs a bit, he's grubby and his beard and hair are long,
He sits upon the footpath mid plastic bags all sorts,
Black garbage round his shoulders and white ones on for shorts,
A yuppie down the footpath tripped,
and soon fell over Joe,
Recoiled in shock as horror gripped,
climbed off the "so and so."
So now they leave him on his throne,
cross the street to the other side,
From his house front boards, the nails have flown,
weather boards have gone to hide.
The prophet peers from neath his robes,
bags plastic shuffled flies,
In trance the seer discards his clothes,
as fresh plastic he applies,
Oh he'd tell us all of what he knows,
If he perchance did speak,
But plastic fumes get up his nose,
and cause his brain to squeak.
So if you pass the prophet there,
do spare a thought for him,
see his waiscoat's very shiny glare,
but the plastics getting thin.
The winter wind it whistles but Joe has cause to grin,
for the masters call, he's waiting to right some deadly sin.
Sponsor Paula Swanson
Contest Name Do You Know The Cardboard Man?
Born Joseph Ferdinand Gould, in Norwood Massachusetts, 1889.
A 1911 graduate of Harvard, and a
Greenwich village Bohemian from 1916 until 1957,
and the time of his death at age 68.
Joe was a filthy and disgusting man, who constantly smelled
like homeless shelter disinfectant.
Dirty fingers, greasy clothes but also an intellectual.
He was a writer, a poet, a lier and a bum, A thief and
A drunk, and other poets hated him and he hated them.
He once told them that "Not only is your poetry bad, but
also stolen from other bad poets."
One night he convinced them that he had written the
most wonderful poem, and that they should allow him
to stand and recite it, and they did.
Joe stood up that night back in 1942, in the Raven poetry club
in New york city`s Lower East side, and read his poem.
" In winter I`m a Buddhist,
and in summer I`m a nudist."
With that I raise my glass to you Joe Gould. I wish I had known ya!
Run, Joe, Run! And the people represent,
mama always said you'd be President.
Somethin' else mama said was
stupid is as stupid does
and I think we all know what mama meant!
Run, Joe, Run! And let the people decide
but mama always knew your brain was fried.
I think America knows
that your Presidency blows
and there’s never been a greater divide!
Run, Joe, Run! But to us all first explain
your own family's sudden wealth and gain.
For left in a repair shop
on your crackhead son's laptop
are shady deals with China and Ukraine!
Run, Joe, Run! You had big pockets to fill
and Hunter filled 'em for you and for Jill.
But, Joe, it's not a good look
to be a fool and a crook
gettin' caught with your hands in the till!
Run, Joe, Run! But sadly it must be said
if you were any stiffer you'd be dead.
It would be better for you
if you had any damn clue
to let someone (anyone) run instead!
Run, Joe, Run! Until that's all she wrote,
mama always said we all need to vote.
America's Ship of State
needs a captain strong and great
but your sinkin’ ship is an old shrimp boat!
Run, Joe, Run! But Kamala is a curse
and her cacklin' word salads just get worse.
Joe fogs up in the west wing
and she’s a you know…the thing
but she ain't ya mama and ain't ya nurse!
Run, Joe, Run! But stop all the fear and hate,
mama always said it's never too late.
O’ but we are all agreed
that America don't need
a mindfu*ked Manchurian candidate!
Written: June 2024
Our President was fit and fierce
and there wasn't any stumbling.
He shared his vision openly
with out one moments fumbling..
These last four years our leader
has dealt with so much,
in spite of a opposition from a
Congress out of touch..
He spoke of our commonality and
those values that have gone astray.
Some Republicans squirmed in their
seats at the truths that he portrayed..
Thru many years of public service
he has brought his expertise, to the
table of a world now struggling daily
for world peace..
I must admit I'm super proud of our
"Popa Joe".
He showed the crowd and they were
wowed by where the U.S. needs to go!
When someone is reading your Blog
But can't see through the Fog
They maybe confused
So ignore the abuse
Better still, tell them to Log off.
Ps or words to that affect.
He doesn’t like to socialize, nor does
he laugh at funny shows the way I do.
He suffers chronic pain and frets because
he’s worked so long and hard his whole life through.
We’ve had our ups and downs, and that’s for sure,
but I can overlook the bad. Our love
has grown through many years and will endure
because there’s one thing I am certain of.
My husband’s there for me! Though he may lack
a way with words, much tact or great finesse,
I know deep down – he’ll always have my back.
Each year as we grow greyer, he feels stress.
My birthday wish for him is that he’ll find
contentment and – at last – some peace of mind.
Sept. 5, 2021
For Funom Makama's A Poem To Your Spouse On His-Her Birthday Contest
Born in ‘42, he started singing in the 60’s when we learned his name.
“Raindrops keep Falling on My Head” is the song that brought him fame.
Smooth pop, rock, and Christian singer, B.J. died in 2021 in May.
His long-time wife, dear Gloria, was with him to the final day.
Jan. 12, 2022
for Michelle Faulkner's A Celebrity Epitaph Poetry Contest