Best Lish Poems
That first kiss--De-lish! Smooth like Hagendaaz!
I was in my fourteenth year, too green to see his flaws.
I, the skinny Yankee teen with glasses on her face
met the proverbial "preacher's son" (I doubt in God's good grace).
On the brink of womanhood that summer, still a child,
butter on cob of Iowa corn, I melted when he smiled.
He, my best friend's cousin, was older, fun, and tall,
entrancing me with teasing eyes and sexy southern drawl.
Snuggling in the car's back seat, I got a secret thrill
hearing on the radio, "Won't you marry me, Bill?"
Adolescent daydreams wrapped in tune of "Wedding Bell Blues,"
the music, his accomplice, helped him with his ruse.
The kisses were delightful though my memory now is dim
of the moment when precisely all changed upon his whim.
Unhappily, one balmy Alabama night I learned
the kisses I enjoyed most with him he later spurned.
Soft and playful smooching, I learned while in the South,
would be replaced by lustful tongue that slithered in my mouth!
(how I felt as a young girl anyway; it takes a special guy to pull off "proper"
French kissing AND also the first kind I liked so much!)
Categories:
lish, lost love,
Form:
Couplet
To create in five minutes, I wish
to come up with a nice yummy dish.
A limerick I do,
dear Russell, for you.
And I'm sorry it can't be de-lish!
(having problems getting this to post! Hopefully
third time is a charm)
Written 5/11/13 for Russell Sivey's Five minute Challenge Poetry Contest
Categories:
lish, write,
Form:
Limerick
A moment of silence
Becomes eternity
The emptiness is deafening
My eyes have lost all color
For grey skies is all I see
Her touch ignited me
Her voice was my comfort
When she laughed, my soul did dance
When she cried, I drowned in her embrace
Grey skies is all I see
She is a memory from long ago
Like magic, she seeps into my soul
And then the night turns to dawn
The emptiness is here to stay
For grey skies is all I see
The leaves fall off the trees
Like love has felled me to the knees
And as I crawl through life’s torments
I know all was lost, all passions spent
Grey skies is all I see
Translation
Bezizkhodnost
Mig molchaniya
Prevraschaetsya v vechnost'
Pustota oglushaet
Moi glaza ne razlichayut tsveta
Ya vizhu lish' seroe nebo
Ee prikosnovenie vosplamenyalo menya
Ee golos byl mne uspokoeniem
Kogda ona smeyalas', tancevala moya dusha
Kogda ona plakala, ya tonul v ee objatiyah
Ya vizhu lish' seroe nebo
Ona - vospominanie iz dalekogo proshlogo
Podobno volshebstvu, ona prosachivaetsya mne v dushu
A zatem noch' smenyaetsya rassvetom
Pustota otstaetsya so mnoy
Ved' ya vizhu lish' seroe nebo
Opadayut listia s dereviev
Podobno lubvi, chto postavila menya na koleni
I ya propolzayu skvoz' muki zhizni
Ya znayu, vse poteryano, vsya strast' rastrachena
Ya vizhu lish' seroe nebo
Categories:
lish, dark, language, loss, lost,
Form:
Light Verse
As I went to get published,
Stopped for ale and grub.
At a place called the Longfish;
Which is a great pub.
Well that first book it got scrubbed;
Thrown in the rubbish.
So now when I seek a pub,
It must end in lish.
For 7/5 Trochee Contest
Categories:
lish, books, drink, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Slaughtering Eng-lish not in anger but in a vikingr way nor in rangr using my servo of skald in poetica engraved within you may to wit grafa Dirt don’t hurt so they say, so dig Danzleikr, enjoy, do a little jig Please don’t pull out your har It is not English but not far I am not giving you the renna around nor kindling a fire upon fótr an about Do not worry a freknur on your head It not spoken much but it is not dead You use these words every day but maybe not Thursday Look in your own window but you’re the skipper, you know An ode to the old if to be so bold - A little help - ransack – rannsaka (to search a house) slaughter – slatra (to butcher), Víking meant an overseas expedition, and a vikingr was someone who went on one of these expeditions. Rangr (unjust/ wrong, Servo of skald - sword of artful poetry, window – vindauga (lit. “wind-eye”), foot – fótr
Categories:
lish, history, humorous, poets, word
Form:
Free verse
Santa would like us girls and boys to sit upon his knee
Can we sit there Santa, my friend and me?
We can bounce up and down and cause you to smile
It will help keep you warm, as you fly each lonely mile
We can whisper our wishes one in each ear
But we expect you to grant them Santa, is that clear?
There's a frown on your face for you have lots to please
But we can be elves, and we like to tease
My friend would like you Santa, to find her a pup
One she can walk when she’s all dressed up
She hears that dogs get a lot of attention
And it may pass some to her, that is her intention
For me Santa I’d like to kiss a man with a beard
Can you grant me that wish, or is it too hard I fear?
A beard that is long and white and fluf-fy
Yes Santa that’s my wish, can you grant it for me?
What we both want in a combined wish we say
That all those on the soup will have a good day
They’ve taken us in and caressed our battered egos
So we wish them what they want, always highs, never lows.
We wish happiness and health for the year that is new
To all those that have struggled, please give them hope anew
For you Santa Mike one last thing we wish
To get you out of that suit, cos we think you’re de-lish
We don’t want to sit on a knee all dressed in red
So how about a tumble in a big king sized bed?
©15/12/2012
Collaboration with another poet who shall be named after the contest
Categories:
lish, funny, friend, me,
Form:
Couplet
Santa would like us girls and boys to sit upon his knee
Can we sit there Santa, my friend and me?
We can bounce up and down and cause you to smile
It will help keep you warm, as you fly each lonely mile
We can whisper our wishes one in each ear
But we expect you to grant them Santa, is that clear?
There's a frown on your face for you have lots to please
But we can be elves, and we like to tease
My friend would like you Santa, to find her a pup
One she can walk when she’s all dressed up
She hears that dogs get a lot of attention
And it may pass some to her, that is her intention
For me Santa I’d like to kiss a man with a beard
Can you grant me that wish, or is it too hard I fear?
A beard that is long and white and fluf-fy
Yes Santa that’s my wish, can you grant it for me?
What we both want in a combined wish we say
That all those on the soup will have a good day
They’ve taken us in and caressed our battered egos
So we wish them what they want, always highs, never lows.
We wish happiness and health for the year that is new
To all those that have struggled, please give them hope anew
For you Santa Mike one last thing we wish
To get you out of that suit, cos we think you’re de-lish
We don’t want to sit on a knee all dressed in red
So how about a tumble in a big king sized bed?
©15/12/2012
Collaboration with another poet who shall be named after the contest
Categories:
lish, funny, friend, me,
Form:
Couplet
Declared plainly by those that know not thee of whom this present world was not worthy Their cries still being heard how long Oh, Lord They were were slain with the sword
of stones of hangings Of Crosses and Stakes Brazen Bulls and Iron Beds they where baked racks and wheels screws and vices iron maidens and all other evil devices
Lit candles lighting the gardens of cruel kings Tortures and Torments but they still sing unto blood shed men of valor showing God's Love consistent of lion's and lamb's eagle's and dove's Courage and strength to put tens of thousands to flight instead suffering servant's showing mercy like Christ Surely they have won the battle not lost for they follow the One counting the cost What manner of death Glorifying God Loving the brethren when they would not as Valiant as they can be the world to come they seek Overcoming this world for another for the Love of God and brother - Based on the Word of God ,Fox's book of martyrs, Tortures and Torments of the Christian Martyrs'', itself a photographic copy of an earlier, rare folio published by William Brendon & Son in 1904. - and HE WHO WOULD VALIANT BE Who Would True Valor See the Words: John Bunyan, Pilgrim’s Progress, 1684; modified by Percy Dearmer in The English Hymnal (London: Oxford University Press, 1906
Categories:
lish, faith, forgiveness, love, religion,
Form:
Lyric
The old ones have all gone now
up those Golden Stairs.
There's hay stacked for the horses in the barn.
They're grubbing up potatoes
and stacking corn stalks high
'cause Bertha's coming home tonight
up those Golden Stairs.
Willie is laughing and telling Indian tales
while Aunt Sarah is baking
biscuits on her wooden stove.
Pap and Mammy are dancing
through the clouds and all around
'cause Bertha's coming home tonight
up those Golden Stairs.
God's here with them tasting Minnie's apple pies;
Bill Cornett and Dorothy are fishing over stars;
and Preston's playing cards
with Lish, Ben and Maurice,
'cause Bertha's coming home tonight
up those Golden Stairs.
Zora is now kissing Ben gently on the cheek
while Paul is making a barbecue.
Cousin Lucille, Sara and Anna Lee
are swinging from the moon,
'cause Bertha's coming home tonight
up those Golden Stairs.
Janet Marie Bingham
This poem is about my ancestor's that have died and gone to Heaven.
The last person was Bertha Baldwin. They all were country people
who went through the Great Depression on the farm except for Sara and Anna Lee who were in the next generations. I am the daughter of Zora and Ben Bingham. Soon I will be going up those Golden Stairs too. I'm 75 right now. May God bless all of you who lived through the Great Depression and made it to raise your families. May God bless you with peace and hope
for a better world.
Categories:
lish, character, courage, endurance, environment,
Form:
Prose
REGRETTING CAKE
My life in crumbles, vanilla-chocolate,
I lick my wounded fingers, tastes so good.
To stay in shape, I frost my lips… de-lish,
Cut corners on the square, I really should.
Regretting cake, from my head down to my feet…
Such a shame it is so sweet, I repeat…
Regretting cake, from my head down to my feet…
Deciding whether a half or quarter,
Will satisfy my broken heart - a gift.
Don’t want to invite friends over…all mine.
Generous frosting, gives those pounds a lift.
Regretting cake, from my head down to my feet…
Such a shame it is so sweet, I repeat…
Regretting cake, from my head down to my feet…
I’ve weighed my cake, it’s atrociously slim,
Though you can find its slices upon me.
My pimpled countenance hazards applause,
My broken heart - he'd not even know me.
Regretting cake, from my head down to my feet…
Such a shame it is so sweet, I repeat…
Regretting cake, from my head down to my feet…
9th Place Winner
8/9/2016
Contest by Julia Ward
Categories:
lish, depression, food, heartbroken, humorous,
Form:
Lyric
Week to week check to check living thee American dream living in dept,
middle class friend to the Joneses only seeing the greener grass behind high fences,
early to bed early to rise sore feet an aching back with blood shot eyes,
wasn't told as I walked home from school playing kid playing a fool,
thought worries were for the weak 30 years later worried this ship might sink,
it was like it was yesterday I was going to do it my way,
now yes sir yes ma'am I'll do it this way that way any way I can,
hoping for some day the end of the rainbow when I no longer hear what they say,
I did it and I do it the best I can there is no giving up no no in this man,
a dogs day to say the lease but this dog doesn't tug on his lish,
I know I know a man is only as good as his soul
so I cry no tears I take with me no regrets this is my life and I'm not done yet,
and no matter the climb or how high the wall I know I may fall,
but I will get back up dust myself off and always stand tall.
Categories:
lish, inspirationalday,
Form:
Free verse
S
ee it bright and not dim,
U
lish your potential to the brim,
C
hoose the path to follow,
C
ling to it without sorrow,
E
xplain to them what you mean,
S
ailing into the deepest seas,
S
ee your star shine;as you gaze at the sky.
Then utter "success."
Categories:
lish, analogy,
Form:
Acrostic
democracy: latin roots- philososphy of/as popular civility
- to take away confusion
usa - un-united states of americans
- under statedly artificial
advanced democracies represent the peoples...
via mixed populations of/amongst the peoples...
with several federal parties for/of the peoples...
seeking universal health care for all the peoples...
as a true beginning to equal rights for all the peoples...
voting is NOT for wall-street-clams claiming "we...we're...numero uno
stan sand
Categories:
lish, analogy, bullying, cancer, childhood,
Form:
Free verse
Inspired by U Got the Look
Boy, when you walked in, my heart went BOOM.
Best-looking guy you were inside the entire room.
Face of an angel, eyes so soft it seems
I never saw a guy so schweet except inside my dreams.
I don’t need some macho man with tattoos or a beard
or some girly boy extra sensitive and weird.
You are like a Christmas gift, the best I ever got,
saying everything just right and looking hot, hot, hot.
In this world of boys and girls, I know lots of fishes.
But you are the best catch, for you simply are de-lish-es.
I can’t wait to cozy up beside you in your car.
In your red Corvette, baby, you can take me far.
Categories:
lish, boy,
Form:
Rhyme
A wet patch of wa-ter glints
unusual!
It was my ears that it re-flected,
sand or dust or what-ever it wasn’t no more,
got every-where;
es-pecially bet-ween my grey hairs.
It didn’t matt-er,
I wasn’t thirsty no more.
Scurry-ing off to…
what was it called again?
Wooood.
Yes, wood boards
dis-carded,
they say.
May-be food?
Could be, my family hasn’t eaten
in days.
Hard, scout-ing for food,
in a…waste-land.
That’s what they called it.
Waste-land.
A place where re-sources (another long word for food)
is rarely found.
That means bad, very bad things.
No, horr-ible!
The sun rises,
it’s heat toy-ing with me.
Why must you toy with us?
Why must you pre-ssure us
with your harsh heat,
when we are but meagre rats?
Questions, un-answered ones at that,
those were the ones that made me mad,
or both-ered, as they say.
Eng-lish, the language of hu-mans,
the cause of these per-sisting horrors;
they have fled,
but they have left Eng-lish
here
for us to learn.
Snip-pets from the papers
that tell us the news,
the things that helped me
push sounds out of my mouth
and form them into words.
Now, as I move my hands
and shuffle the re-mainders of this…
thing.
Used to be green,
not green no more;
that’s all I know.
Twist-ing my wrists and hands,
un-washed, but not un-cared for,
Here, there is no hi-erarchy,
just des-perate silence,
as we scrape, and scrape;
families go hungry,
but not dead.
We will sur-vive.
Categories:
lish, analogy, animal, science fiction,
Form:
Free verse