Best Lists Poems
I pick up my notepad and find a sharp pencil
(Hope any comments won’t be too detrimental)
I scan the contest themes and hope I’m inspired
I’ll enter an old poem if I’m just too darn tired
I post my ‘best effort’ and hope that I win …
Yet ANOTHER N/A so I start hitting the gin!
With tears in my eyes I soup mail all my friends
There’ll be a ‘screwed contest’, will that pay dividends?
I finish the bottle, then scan the 'best new poems list'
My poem’s ‘pisadeered’, how my eyes start to mist
My masterpiece isn’t there - where has it gone?
It’s been cast into the realms of total oblivion
My eyes are now closing, I’m too sozzled to write
It’s well after midnight so I’ll bid you goodnight ....
I wake in the morning, dash to check all the lists ...
but with all the moaning on blogs… they no longer exist!
Inspired by Jerry T Curtis's POTD
07~25~16
Joy! Joy! of all the honors I have earned
In a lifetime of trysts, mazes, and twists
None have I so much relished, indeed,
As topping one of Poetry Soup’s lists!
I only wish they would send a certificate
I feel like my soul would be duly kissed,
My head swells with pride, such renown,
If I wrote music, I’d feel like Franz Lizst!
I know some are eat up with jealousy --
Somewhere down there in the foggy mist,
But there is always room at the top
And someday, surely, you’ll make a list.
I hope you have figured out, by now, I jest.
I would write poetry if I never saw my name
Writing, my tongue firmly planted in cheek,
I would be a fop to write poetry for fame!
written December 23, 2021
[inspired by a recent poem
by a Poetry Soup poet!]
#33 on the Month's Best Poems List
January, 2022
List one: climb up to Machu Picchu,
ride the Orient Express,
see the Terracotta Warriors,
find a monster in Loch Ness,
brave the winds of Patagonia,
hike along an Everest ridge,
visit Paul Gaugin’s Tahiti,
stand on Sydney Harbour Bridge,
stroll round Angkor Wat, Cambodia,
cross the Alps in a balloon,
gaze in awe at Easter Island,
catch a rocket to the moon.
List two: sit in the garden scribbling,
eat a wedge of Stilton cheese,
drink a glass of Chilean Merlot,
watch the sunset through the trees,
play the bass just one more time
in the pub with my rock band,
look both ways then cross the street
holding my granddaughter’s hand,
see my grandson run towards me
smiling, waving, full of life,
meet my son and talk and listen,
phone my daughter, kiss my wife.
Yes. Two lists. There is a reason.
Once I heard a wise man say
Dream as if you’ll live forever;
live as if you’ll die today.
*(a poem in Senryus)*
You don’t have to count,
when you lose a boyfriend, you
know. There was just one.
He was gone before
I knew it - he wasn’t, you know,
tied up or anything.
For a moment I
toy with saying, “Alexa, add
rope to my shopping list."
In High School boyfriends
come and go - it's like shopping
- where you return things.
Lady of the Lists
By Robert (Bob) Moore
The Lady of the Lists, that’s what I call my Wife
not that she would swing a Sword, or use a Lance or Knife
she writes lists, all day long, for shopping, and things to do
crosses them off when they are done, then, start a list that’s new
Now me, I just go down the shops, and look at all the things
I know I’ll see just what I need, and bells will start to ring
in a few hours, I am lost, I came here for a reason
can’t be grass seed, or weed killer, it is not the season
I buy some bits and pieces, just so not to waste
the time I have spent looking, for the thing I have misplaced
somewhere in my mind I know, I need the whatsaname
and I know its hidden somewhere, deep within my brain
I pick up this, and pick up that, but nothing rings a bell
it’s gone, and I can’t think of it, I’ve forgotten, I can tell,
I go home all loaded up, with things I didn’t want
I tried to sneak in through the back, I could not stand the taunt
did you get what you wanted, she says with just a smile
could not find them I said to her, I’ll go back in a while
I know that I’ll remember, what it was I hadn’t found
and next time it pops in my head, I think I’ll write it down.
Things I Almost Always Daily Do
1. Wake up on time; don’t be a sleepy head.
2. Grab the food I’ll eat at work (unless it is a stay-home day)
3. Clean the litter box; make sure the cats are fed.
4. Get dressed; do chores and don’t forget to pray.
5. Drive or don’t drive (see item number 2)
6. If out, decide if after work, I’ll stop by at the gym.
7. If driving also, stop for errands that I need to do.
8. Make time for cats and hubbie; feed them and feed him.
9. Make sure what I fix for dinner also pleases me.
10. Call one of my sisters, my mother or a friend.
11. Go online; maybe write; watch my night’s TV.
12. Brush teeth and bathe, go to bed. Dream good dreams? The end.
Things I’ll Never Make a To-Do List for
1. Practice knitting; make things like a sweater.
2. Be a child again and build a fort.
3. To anyone but Mom, write a snail-mail letter.
4. Watch a show on fixing things or any kind of sport.
5. Learn to parachute or ski; to surf or para-glide.
6. Learn gardening and wait to do it gleefully in spring.
7. Eat some kind of nasty food that I can’t abide.
8. Do a lot of housework any day with zing.
9. Memorize long passages like I did in school.
10. Do a dissertation to get a high degree.
11. Go hiking up a mountain even if the weather’s cool.
12. With stupid or abhorrent things state that I agree.
My Short List
1. Quickly get all boring things (that I must do) done.
2. Relish life and all I love; have a lot of fun.
Feb. 10, 2023 for Suzanne Delaney's The Multiple Choice Poem Poetry Contest
I sit here cursing at Herman Hollerith,
and his foolish punch card machine,
trying to make base-2 make sense in a base-10 world.
Now I can add and subtract as well as any man,
But peeking where I poked is really a hard call,
much harder than it looks!
Though I've received compliments for my two's-complement notation.
Some people even flipped their bits!
I have fond memories of bytes that flowed, making words into meaningful structure,
Though I must confess, that iterable data structures often leave me irritable.
Like objects of my memory, now dereferenced, though fail when strict'd
I also learned a few good pointers, which makes it easier I find,
if you want your look up tables to behave.
But I've also found that,
it's pointless pointing pointers where you have no address saved.
I never optimize what I have written clearly,
But I shudder when coded memory has leaked!
Oh no, t'was caught too late,
it's crashed again.
Potpourri of collections
Hug of affections
Season of winters
Track of sprinters
Road of cars
Street of bars
Pad of flies
Pod of eyes
Tin of sardines
Western of jeans
View of lens
Peck of hens
Pulpit of preachers
Lesson of teachers
Smack of bottoms
Perfume of blossoms
Fist of thugs
Bed of bugs
Table of logs
Circle of cogs
Score of musicians
Face of beauticians
Kiss of loves
Peace of doves
Whistling of birds
Conversation of words
Blind of blinkers
Twitch of winkers
Curve of bends
Finale of ends
~~~
Inspired by “An Exaltation of Larks” by James Lipton
When inviting some folks to your home,
Over guest lists you really should comb,
Crossing out those whose views
Have made waves in the news
Or you might end up here in a poem.
So a bigot or one filled with hate,
Should not find his name card on a plate,
Though, of course, it’s a choice
To break bread or give voice
To whomever you think carries weight.
Still, expect to be hit with some flack
As your friendships come under attack.
If you’ve chosen to dine
With some snakes, show some spine
And admit that it’s savvy you lack.
My vacation prep consists
Of checking items off my lists.
Toiletries and extra socks?
One more pair of shoes, sans box.
Make-up? Check! A book to read?
More clothing than I really need.
An umbrella? Meds and snacks?
Passport? Chargers? (Can’t relax!)
Bills paid up and cards all sent?
Nothing left to thus lament.
Pencil and my writing pad?
The checking off is ironclad.
As the time to leave draws near,
One by one they disappear.
When I’m headed out the door,
My lists aren't needed anymore.
I suppose the usual suspects,
should fill up this poem,
City of lights, ancient pyramids,
colosseum in Rome,
To be honest I seen all these places,
sitting playing the slots,
Yeah we’re talking Vegas baby,
sin city, I’ve given it a shot,
Been up the Eiffel Tower,
Bellagio fountains down below,
Viewing the Sistine chapel,
in Venice along the same road,
Look across main boulevard,
I see Caesars palace all lit up,
Just outside on the strip,
Elvis sings through a begging cup,
Passing the cosmopolitan,
New York springs into view,
Must go by the crystals first,
still looks sparkling new,
On second thoughts cross over,
go shop the miracle mile,
Planet Hollywood rises above,
looking a bit retro in style,
Outside it’s baking hot,
have you felt that Nevada sun,
Cool vapour blows from
roadside bars, I do not shun,
Next day into the stratosphere,
ride the big shot atop,
A thousand feet over Vegas,
screaming will it ever stop,
Later up or down to freemont st.
cannot tell I’m totally lost,
Craziest place I’ve ever seen,
little sleazy by default,
So that’s my bucket list,
everything’s now crossed off,
World under one roof, pretty sad,
yeah well! go ahead and scoff.
By
David Kavanagh
What Have You Kicked Off
On Your Bucket List Poetry Contest
08/11/2020
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
My list of domestic chores
vocations
avocations
I no longer wish to know and do
grows longer with each advancing year.
And, because I live with no one
capable and willing to work with me,
side by side,
or even in alternating shifts
and loads
and harvests
and plantings,
it is difficult to grow experientially sure
my motivation has faded entirely,
whether with at least one Other,
or by myself
with only nonhuman fully-abled natures
for song and dance accompaniment.
But, what of my non-domestic bucket list?
That larger stage of ecofeminist transformation,
ecovillage healthy wealth invitation,
sanctuary, green and/or multi-colored celebration
for compassionately resilient
and nutritional communication,
active hope,
sacred trust vocation
for
and of
and within Earth's warmly integral home
and Great Transitional heated heart potential.
No bucket I could imagine
would fill all these polypathic double-binding destinations
becoming wealthy here
and trans-regenerationally healthy throughout time
communioned here as now
to my remembering mind
This further fortune future-hunting heart
fulfills my whole EarthBucket
with passion's perpetually young
embodied co-investments
transcending past wealth
through immanent
imminent future inclusive health
resonant within all EarthTribe.
I know all things begin and end in eternity,
There have always been visitors,
I’ve seen them, haven’t you?
It’s scary how we treat them,
But would they treat us any differently?
Leaving the lights of LA way behind,
I’m heading for the blue remembered hills.
I don’t want to go back,
I've got everything here.
But when I look around, I see
That the only thing that I haven’t got
Is my freedom.
Look back to how it should and should not be,
Stacks of Gold teeth and glasses and clothes.
A history in pictures overflowing with grief,
One mistake and your life is over,
Just like the one armed man shovelling snow.
And still no sign of the red coat,
Listen to everything that she said.
Then shoot her in the head for being right.
They’ll take you from your homes,
And fill the ghettos with your kind.
You might as well be dead,
If they leave you there behind.
There’s no where left to hide,
And you don’t know who you can trust.
So many people dying,
A river of blood mixed with the dust.
How heavy does your heart feel?
To watch the senseless waste of life.
Covering your ears and holding your breath,
As the sound of a thousand feet run by,
Trying to be invisible.
When all the hiding places have been taken,
Tears are not enough
It will only make it worse.
The man with the gun in his hand
Playing Russian roulette with your lives.
One day I know he might shoot me
Secrets are something that I can’t hide.
The more I see, the more I fear,
I look through him, hoping that he does not see me.
Sometimes it’s not wise to know too much,
The more I see, the more I cry.
To be drunk with all this power,
Is not the same as being insane.
I hide when I can, but I can’t hide away forever.
Ivanhoe had just killed Sir Brian de Bois- Gilbert,
I watched him and felt the hilt of my sword,
perhaps I could change history without a word,
we spoke and he said that you can call me Richard.
I said that I was from the future and needed him
to dispose of Isis in the Middle East 2018,
he looked at me and said:' Would you wish
me to leave the Lady Rowena to do this task?
I said that I would because he was a winner,
we now needed to remove infidels and sinner;
we rode together - now I was in the book,
there was hope as far as you could look.
Those arrows would now be banging into the gates,
there was a chance we would rid ourselves
of fools everyone hates.
there's something intrinsically poetic about lists…
1.
bread (wholemeal)
twelve eggs
solar panels
occasional frogs
corporate lawyers
steam
2.
onions (red)
tomatoes (finely chopped)
garlic (four cloves)
fireman's ladder (aluminium)
disparity (secretly hidden)
mildness (abundant)
gluttony (almost definite)
mozzarella (abridged)
3.
clean sink
dirty sink
point un-necessarily
wear wetsuit and carry surfboard in populated area
shirk responsibilities
vacuum dog
hide
reappear (nearly palindromic)
borrow an eagle
book car in to be painted yellow
buy a bucket
start new list