Best John Poems
it was the sixties
we were young
we were going to change the world
spin it like a basketball on our finger
take the three point shot
win the game
we had great leaders
john, robert, martin...
the planet was singing
with the purity of a four year old
...
The ants go marching two by two;
The little one stops to tie his shoe,
...
then
it started raining bullets
our optimism soured
slightly at first
and the grassy knoll
and the sniper
and the magic bullet
john was shot
jackie squirmed
we sat on the edge of our seats
The ants go marching four by four;
The little one stops to shut the door,
John F. Kennedy was assassinated
The ants go marching five by five;
The little one stops to take a dive,
years had passed, five
look before you dive
the civil rights movement gathered
to fight for their God given rights
the right to be treated as humans
exactly that...humans...no more no less.
to listen to the man who had said
"Nonviolence is a powerful and just weapon
which cuts without wounding and ennobles
the man who wields it. It is a sword that heals."
the man who stood on the hill speaking
"I have a dream today!"
The ants go marching seven by seven;
The little one stops to pray to heaven,
Boom, boom, boom, boom!
Martin Luther King Jr. was shot
died
and my God it rained
it rained salt
as a nation black and white cried
The ants go marching nine by nine;
The little one stops to check the time,
time for the rise of Bobby
Hoorah! Hoorah!
Boom, boom, boom, boom!
i wish he could have ran faster than the bullets
they murdered John's brother
Robert F. Kennedy was dead
the sixties where almost finished
and i wondered
if the world would ever be the same
again
I marched away buried my face into the ground
To get out of my pain.
great leaders lost
words that radiated
radiate hope
America was
the envy of the world
it's two thousand sixteen
and we have sunk so deep into the dirt
i know we can't Trump this disaster
have you ever heard of fools gold
we have a choice
our lives count
remember the ants
nature's banner is blowing in the wind
don't make
the little one shout
"THE END!!"
March 16 2016
armand
Thy Wondrous Life Was As A Butterfly's Brief Stay,
Poets Tribute Series, third poet, John Keats
Poet, where flows tears for thy premature demise
tragic death of thy soft heart, body, gifted soul
majestic verses from a poet truly wise
poems of deep splendor, thy words did so extol.
Thy wondrous Life was as a butterfly's brief stay.
And in thy heart, triumphant was thy sweet word play.
Poet, can praise seep into thy slumbering grave
or upon hearing such voice, does thee seek to rise
and in true caring, thy words again hope to save
by talented hand, let pen scribble out surprise.
Thy wondrous Life was as a butterfly's brief stay.
And in thy heart, triumphant was thy sweet word play.
Poet, does moon's light cast shine into thy abode
as blowing sands of time, thy rest slow ticks away
can spirit, with honor, thy sad story be told
of poet, that Fate's hand, forced thy dear Life thee pay.
Thy wondrous Life was as a butterfly's brief stay.
And in thy heart, triumphant was thy sweet word play.
Poet, not enough we admire from distant time
magnificence of thy genius in golden verse
thy heart once beat in verses heavenly sublime
before death delivered its dark and early curse.
Thy wondrous Life was as a butterfly's brief stay.
And in thy heart, triumphant was thy sweet word play.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-28-2019
Rhyme, ( Tragedy of the death of a young genius and truly brilliant poet )
How could you leave your loving bride?
Cut down in youth, still in your prime
Your rare blood disease appeared suddenly
Just four years of bliss till you were taken from me
When first I saw your face, those blue eyes stunned
So many adored you, but your kind heart I won
Just by showing you love and sharing our joy
Even my mama worshiped my special, sweet boy
Death seems to take the finest too soon
Their faces smile in stars embracing the moon
One day we shall be reunited, my love
Until then, I search for comfort in night sky above
Comfort comes quickly when his spirit visits
I see his eyes twinkling, how could I miss it
Whenever I pull a fresh fish from the sea
A worthy fisherman, John would be pleased
When I'm feeling down I need only resurrect
Precious memories of John I cherish and protect
*John was my beloved husband. Elegy in honor of Dr. Ram's contest.
Olivia Newton John
A stunning sex bomb
Starred in the film Grease
Talk of ‘ those pants’ never cease!
I wonder how she managed to dance
In skin-tight shiny black satin pants
At the sight of her tush
All the blokes turned to mush
And wanted to begin a romance!
For filming she’s sewn into her clothes
How she went to the toilet who knows!
Her pants sold at an auction in June
I bet the purchaser’s over the moon!
Clerimerick Couplets (Hybrid Form) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
8/28/19
lost in the twilight hours
the twilight years
longing for the past
a closet door opens,
I reach inside
wrap myself in his old sweater
his Aramis scent
still clings to wool
puts me in a trance
and the aged phonograph
still works
as I dance to our song
“Without You” by Nilsson
I can’t live
if living is without you
I can’t give
I can’t give anymore
no, I’ll not forget the evening
his face as he was leaving
for work the night before his stroke
I keep Aramis in the house
to spray my pillows
as I drift off to sleep
without you, my love,
without you
just sounds and scents
that make no sense
This picture is of the Columbine flower by John Denver.
(He was dead long before the shootings at Columbine.)
In my life, I was so blessed to meet you.
You cherished all people, nature, and I think
God designed His glorious sky just for you, too!
Besides your music, I know you cared about
all the hungry folks on this earth.
And you started the Hunger Project wherein
people could plant from our God’s fine earth.
You sang of God’s creation, which is far more
than I will ever do.
What an infinitesimal thing a POTD is, well, John,
when compared to your tunes.
I am so glad to this day, I had a personal chance
to talk with you.
You were as humble and beautiful as the twinkling
stars at night we love to view!
I have no idea why your plane crashed so-suddenly,
with you into the dark sea..
But here is one of your photographs, that is as beautifully
created ……as thee!
6/26/2023
Jokes he delivers us on Fun Monoku Mondays.
”October Skies,” he wrote just when starting college -
His gift to loving grandparents which garnered him much praise.
Noble is John’s soul, and his mind is filled with knowledge.
With Knock-Knock jokes – don’t reply “John Who?”
Ask instead “John What?”
To which the answer sounds the same as his name: “John Watt?”
Thanks too to John’s short name, with this poem I now am through!
Jan 9, 2021
For Margarita Lillico's Capture The Essence Poetry Contest
Tribute To The Memory Of John Keats
Child of the storm-swift Hermes, lithe and strong
To Trojan tumult, had the gods thus willed,
They gave thee one short year of riper song
And more melodious than ever filled
The heart of youth; they gave thee power to build
A noble altar for thy offering
Amid the heedlessness that had long chilled
True poesy, true souls that fain would sing.
And thou, from depths of silent agony,
Hast left unto the world such rich bequest
Of love's own loveliness that thy last rest
Becometh as the soul's own sanctuary
To all that long have learnt of thee to wear
Sun-raiment in the shadowy House of Care.
R.J. Lindley
Sept. 9th 1975
Jesus came to earth as a man
but still had His divinity on show
being complete as God and man
no one had seen His like, hey hello!
Jesus loved especially three special friends
Lazarus and his two sisters were so close
their brother was ill in need of help
sent for Jesus who delays before He goes
Jesus came to raise Lazarus from the dead
but before that shows He does shed tears
His emotion was stirred proving His love
showing that His Father in heaven hears
Jesus sympathizes with our feelings
He knows how frail and feeble we are
so that when we feel fears within
our Lord draws near being not far
Jesus is God and showed Himself man
so we can know His wonderful love
shedding tears sent from heaven
today assures us Jesus is always enough
(John 11:35-"And Jesus Wept." )
Let me tell you a story from the old wild-west;
Of a terrible lawman with a star on his vest.
His title was “Ranger”; not bound to a town
He studied the outlaws then hunted them down.
One long hot summer; played like a pawn
He’d failed to take down the man called “Big John”.
He was tired and thirsty, his mood like black jet
As he rode into Dodge his sights were still set
On Big John!
He stabled his horse, and checked out the saloon
‘cause he’d heard the big man liked to drink there at noon.
Through the wide swinging doors, he strolled to the back
His face as long as a wagon-wheel track.
The scowl on his face told me this man was risky,
But I was the bar keep, and he needed whiskey.
So I poured him a double in a clean mason jar
And slid it down deftly to the end of the bar.
He quaffed it and gave me a tip of his hat.
I thought it was over, except for the fact
That his mood was still dark, like rain in a flood,
I knew in my gut there was bound to be blood.
There in the corner; his back to the wall,
He waited with patience; said nothing at all.
Just stared at the space ‘bove the wide swingin’ doors,
His hands at his sides, drooping down toward the floor.
It was quarter past noon when the room darkened some,
Big John in the doorway; blocking the sun.
Two shots rang out from the man in the vest.
Two blood stains emerged on the big fella’s chest.
Big John just stood there; there in the door,
Then the glasses all rattled as John hit the floor.
Dry-gultched, like a fox at a watering hole
Big John was finished; so, likely his soul!
The old wanted poster said “Dead or Alive”.
They just didn’t care how Big John arrived!
The Ranger just smiled and sighed, “One more round!”
Then he gathered his pony and rode out of town.
May 9, 2017
*Sung to the tune of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” Intended to be taken
humorously.
“When are you gonna grow up?
It is in jail you will land
You’ll have to stay after class
And I’ll be talking to your old man”
“You know you can’t hold me forever
The last school bus is now due
You can’t rap my knuckles with your ruler now
Stand in my way and I’ll just run through
So nah, nah, nah…
“So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were cruel
The Catholic school’s finally closing
The lunchroom’s stopped serving gruel
“I’m taking that bus, might never get off
Don’t want to face my Dad’s wrath
Oh, I’ve finally decided to free myself
And set out on my own path
So nah, nah, nah…”
“How can you earn a living?
You can’t even spell your name
You’ll be required to take some remedial courses
And stop playing silly head games”
“Maybe you’ll get a new convent
I hear there’s some room in Brazil
Students there might appreciate
A no-nonsense sister with a voice shrill
So nah, nah, nah…
“So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were crude
The altar boys have been set free
The priests are no longer lewd
“I’d like to stay, watch them raze it
The site with torture imposed
Where skeletons still hide in the closets
Nevermore to be exposed
So nah, nah, nah…”
*For John Heck’s “Dear John” contest.
Those of us who attended St. Joseph’s just learned the school is being closed.
Although a good education was provided, some students were beaten there repeatedly.
I feel a good education was provided, but they went overboard with discipline.
THE ASTRONAUT = John Glenn
As certain as I see the world below
some things I'd overlooked, within my haste
come to my mind, and in it now, I know
we can't allow what time remains to waste.
What God's become, because we've let it be,
would change if only you'd see what I do,
spread out below, right here in front of me
a fragile sight--most delicate a view.
To see the whole thing, as it is complete,
the total world, big pictures only show,
is recognizing what's beneath our feet
was made by one who knows more than we know.
My question's not to ponder as to how
God made the world--but how to save it now.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Come December 21, two thousand and twelve
On the winter solstice, mankind may burn in hell
As man's Creator, I've sent multiple warnings
Nostradamus, the Mayans, Hopi Indians
All believed there was still time to reverse this course
But My warnings have ceased, even My voice grows hoarse
Dear Father, my sacred heart is of course willing
Though mind be the enmity of Christ's blood spilling
My center most being, with Your spirit's all seeing
The sacrifice of Your son saves souls of all beings
Father, though slay my flesh, Thou hast immortal stash
For Thou has the Adamantine, the adamant cash
This is not the response I expected from you
My warnings so long unheeded have made me blue
You are my children and I vow to save your souls
But to save your flesh, you will have to meet these goals
Let the evil wars end, allow nature to thrive
Cast aside all notions of greed to stay alive
I shall heed with God speed to sow the righteous seed
My love will manifest, for 'tis my soul's main heed
I shall present my flesh body as this soul's alarm
I shall not conform, from this world I shall transform
Holy acceptably my receptacle sin free
By my renewed mind transformed by Christ's mind shall be
I will spare your flesh if your words prove to be true
In turn, dire prophesies I promise to undo
Encouraged am I to hear you express remorse
It was never My wish to take action so coarse
To save body and soul, I sacrificed my Son
It has been My wish that all men will live as one
Forgive Father, so shall I speak just this once more
As Thou has given thus this world for to explore
‘Twas a parasite seed from derivative mind's greed
Brought forth by chance, a wild branch, doeth Thou not concede
Purgeth my wild branch of chance, ‘tis your right to do
That I might pursue Your true vine, my love be true
MY CLOUD by JOHN G. LAWLESS
I don’t remember asking…..
yet I am still hearing a babbling brook
of mindless chatter rolling pebbles
through my ears and across my mind.
Noisome, acridly scented, sounds,
a Charlie Brown like… wah–wah-wah
droning in the background of my life.
“You can’t say that!” “It might offend
somebody – somewhere – someday.”
“How can you even think that way??!!!”
“Don’t you care how other people feel?”
“Do you have any feelings at all for them?”
“You can’t do THAT!” “WHAT WILL
PEOPLE THINK!” “ Didn’t you see that sign?”
“Why can’t you just follow instructions, do
what you’re told, believe that we are right,
that WE know what is best for you?”
“If you ate less there would be more food
to feed the hungry.”(Yeah but then I’d be hungry.)
“If you drove less there would be more fuel
for others to burn and fewer emissions.”
(How the hell does that work???)
“If you would only follow all the shoulds
and musts then you’d know the reasons
why you should entrust the future of the
planet, the diet of your kids, to those of
us entitled to pry off freedom’s lids.”
“Every voice is equal when every voice
is heard.” (That could be said of cows
and sheep and noise within the herd.)
“What is it that you want?”, they ask
in obvious disdain and shudder when
I mention my First Amendment claim.
I wish that those who speak their minds
would allow me to do the same without
their constant reprimand “that I should
be ashamed”. When I speak, and write, and
act in a manner that I choose, I shouldn’t
be belittled by the puppets of the fools.
I do not need the politics of food, sex,
and lies, nor special interest groups that
see only through “their” eyes. I cannot
be an island, so I choose to be a cloud -
sit above the melee of “their” ever
spreading shroud. Therefore, the
conversations may be ended by
a verse, a substantial update
from the “islands” brutal curse
as I, in karaoke style, sing a
sixties refrain aloud:
HEY! HEY! YOU! YOU!
GET OFFA MY CLOUD!!**
**The Rolling Stones – Get off of My Cloud(1965)
John G. Lawless
5/30/2015
A funny thing happened on the way to the john,
I rounded a bend and there sat my young son
Who whined and fussed to be picked up and nursed
So I had to oblige though I quietly cursed.
I continued my quest for some bladder relief
Whilst feeding my baby, supreme mother and chief
When I passed the front door, boob out, zipper down
And there stood our pastor, with an uncomfortable frown.
I tucked and I zipped, then red-faced I said, “Hi.”
He said, “I just stopped for your donated pie.”
Baby under one arm, I retrieved the said pie
And proudly returned with baked good held up high.
But the baby was squirmy and sun in my eyes
So I tripped on the dog, who is almost my size
And that’s when I found out that cherry pie flies
Right into the face of the good Reverend Wise.
Which was not a bad thing, and I do not jest
Because my little boy had pulled out my breast!
And my bladder gave up, the poor little fellow,
As I landed and sat in a puddle of yellow!
So I never did make it to the bathroom that trip
And I had to make up to our poor puppy Skip.
My son, just like always, got his milk and his way
And my husband and I became Jewish that day!