Best Lot Poems
I’m so sad mom
That I’m missing the chance
To be with you on your birthday
and to watch you dance
Yet your spirit I admire
You’ll celebrate with style
With friends in a parking lot
You’ll boogie for a while
Enjoy your special night
even if it’s a bit chilly
Let others ponder
the magic of being silly
You are so amazing
the youngest eighty I know
The music stills moves you
Whether it’s fast or slow
So open all the windows
of your shiny Ford Escape
Fly to the sound of the Radio
my hero without a cape
May the night skies twinkle
to the sound of the beat
and the pavement marvel
at the movement of your feet
For you my dear mom
are a one of a kind
and I’ll be there dancing with you
Even though it’s just in my mind.
I love you mom
Happy Eightieth Birthday!
May 18th, 2020
I also want to do a shoutout to my friend Eileen Manassian who shares the same birthday as my mom. I hope you have an amazing day Eileen. My friends, please drop by and wish Eileen a Happy Happy Birthday! The added bonus is that you will get to read her amazing poetry.
The face in my mind
comes to stay for a time
and will not let me go
the day time crime
on which I dine
for my fantasy show
I lie in bed
to it I am lead
for quiet and pleasure
A hunger is feed
All through the day
I see as I may
in moments I imagine
of the never
A time of day
fantasied away
when thoughts of her
I measure
Days months
and even years
A beauty appears
that fetters
Deliver my life
to happiness
and my soul
to highest heaven
Let me see the eye's
that smile in their own way
Look at me not knowing
the power they display
Let me see the smile
that flash's in our meeting
how meaningfull the times
How precious is the greeting
Let me see the hair
That hang around your neck
the red that defines color
the waves I can't forget
The movement of an angel
the grace of a flower
The endless joy given me
with each and every hour
This part of life is giving
a thrill that children know
Everytime I see her
Vane affections continue to grow
I'll never regret loving her
with only eye's and memories
at night I close my eyes
and see her with imaginary gaze
If not time had cursed me
to be born before her days
I'd live my life for only her
and would not miss for age
She is but one of many
Of the past lives I have grazed
And if within this certian time
my life shall pass away
she will be mine forever
forever and a day
Her image as an angel
that hovers over my grave
"I swear, so help me God"
The essence of a divine oath
As Supreme Court Judge
You are now a member of the "Donald Clan"
Prosecutor buried in a black hole
Why do women not have the same impact as men?
08.10.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Justice -- Word of the Year, Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire
1st place in the contest
There’s a thing called Corona that’s going around,
and the yakety-yak of it’s bringing folks down,
for it’s not like some circus that’s coming to town!
If you turn on your telly, you’ll probably hear
lots of news shows predicting this virus is near,
and the airports stand empty from everyone’s fear.
Just a week ago one of my friends only paid
twenty dollars for a standard flight that he made.
I say THAT’S taking lemons to make lemonade!
I'd say hop on a plane for perhaps a low fee;
now however, that's nixed by new rules that I see.
Just take walks with your dog or stay in for your safety
Perhaps you'll go out. Put a mask on your face!
and a handiwipe's great so that you can erase
pesky germs that are lurking in every space.
While your neighbors are running like crazy to buy
extra paper for wiping their precious behinds,
go to Amazon. There a bidet you can find!
Everything is now closed. If it's not far away,
pay a visit to Mom (if allowed). and l say
try to think of your lockdown as some fun "stay-cay!"
Whatever you do, please stop buying Purell.
Leave that stuff for the folks who are truly unwell,
and please leave on the shelves toilet paper for sale!
Yes, a person could die, but folks die from the flu!
Just eat healthy, be cautious; that’s all you can do.
It is not the Black Plague that is coming for you!
Odds of dying from it - I believe - aren't THAT bad.
Many many events are now cancelled; it’s sad.
But have faith it will pass, like the Saggy Pants fad!
March 13, 2020
For Nina Parmenter's A Rattling Rhyme 2 Poetry Contest
Re-entering contest because in light of new information I have learned since writing this poem, I felt the need to make major changes to some of my lines.
Once commenced the fest of feasting and giving thanks for genocide,
‘Tis the season to be jolly to replace our thoughts of suicide.
Santa claws his way into a child’s mind insidiously,
And the air begins to reek again of yuletide idiocy.
The bliss of belief in an ancient hippie turned into a homeless wizard,
Adjoins the joy of gifts from an obese geriatric myth flying in a blizzard.
Eight deer reign behind his ninth whose nose an eightball thaws,
Fa-la-la-la-chainsaw-sounds-that-make-me-gnaw-my-inner-jaw.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,
It follows us everywhere we go,
Take a look and ask like Jack, “what’s this?”
And see it’s but blinding capitalism aglow.
The Scarecrow, he was born without a brain
And the Tinman got all rusted from the rain
Because the Tinman had no heart
And because the Scarecrow was smart
Instead of walking to Oz, he'd taken a train
Sometimes a day just like any other
That began or started carrying
forward all of yesterday's woes
into yet another
Can sometimes just end up availing
that sinking feeling in the pit of one's
stomach
Into something that you haven't felt
in so long it comes across as totally
foreign
And simply all that is one left feeling
half ok which at this current point in
time may be as good as it possibly gets
And it doesn't cost and I am sure giving
it leaves neither party with anything lost
or at all worse off
And what today Jenna gave me may
well be the most precious and important
gift of all if you indeed like me find yourself
flailing and lost
And that my friend is someone else's
time else's time they are willing to
give up and spend with you and engage
So thank you Jenna for the pleasure of
your company this evening kind support
and words of encouragement
Because honestly even I didn't realize
just how down in fact I actually was
Until after speaking with you and I am
not to proud to admit i have very little
faith and love for life at the moment
And as this is my only form and outlet
of cathartic expression and release
Tonight I find myself in a much better
place and feel somewhat at peace
So once again thank you Jenna
I am much obliged and appreciative
indeed
For both your kind words of support
and your most precious valuable time
Laugh a lot
Because when you do
The edges of hardened problems
Crumple away to dust... Smile!
Akkina R Downing
Nice books
Are just awesome
They can teach us a lot
Help us know things when we read them
We can explore new worlds and more with them
Books are wonderful full of fun
Most books can feed our minds
We all should read
Nice books.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2013
October,27, 2014
* This was written for the It Means a lot to me Contest, but it looks like I missed the deadline.
Nature means a lot to me -
God’s creation is a gift to cherish
I’ve lived with nature my entire life
From sunrise to sunset, decorated skies
The colorful trees in autumn, highlight the land
The blooming flowers at home or in the wild,
Bring beauty and scents, filling the day
The happy bird songs and freedom filled flights
The playful animals with antics, put on a show
The refreshing rivers bring renewal with flow
The winter wonderland from soft falling snow
The calming chorus sound of the ocean waves
Beaches with softened rocks and delicate shells
All bring peace, inspiration, lessons and entertainment
God created this
gifts with wonder every day
gratitude will stay
Heidi Sands
2//26/23
after Dilly Dally
She bought a button
to be pinned on vintage dresses
to be placed back on the lacquered shelf
after another day at the gallery:
getting lost in brushstrokes
of light and shadow,
transported like an Echo
reverberating on gilded frames
It's been sixty years
and the vintage dress has been
dry cleaned and packed away
The button lost to time,
yet small circular visions bounce
back into my head
like Echoes
The father said,"Kids, God told Lot,"
"Take your wife and flee from the city!"
"His wife became salt, looking back!"
On their faces, he saw pity
"They were not suppose to look back,"
The father said, "I guess you see,"
"We should always do what God asks!"
The boy said,"Yes, but what of the flea?"
Grains of sand
hiding small burrows;
every tiny sand crabs, the Emerita Analoga
needs its burrow.
intense sunlight’s warm but
has its dangers, even for a tiny crab’s skin.
xiphosurans, cousins to the sand crabs,
don’t need to stress and
worry about the sun
as unless they are upside down, it won’t harm them.
long hot summers will see sand crabs burrowing to
keep themselves from sunburn and dry skin. These
burrowing crabs have insufficient legs for traveling.
zooplankton nourishes the crabs,
building their health so they can burrow deeply
underneath the sand.
just watch where you step at the beach,
no one wants to be squished when they’re building or be
renovating their lovely burrow. All life is sacred,
please show some respect.
A man's lot is not for a woman to bear,
A man's lot is not for a woman to replace,
A man's lot is not for a woman to excuse,
A man's lot is not for a woman to direct,
A man's lot is not for a woman to belittle,
A man's lot is not for a woman to cling to,
A man's lot is not for a woman to pigeonhole.
A woman's lot is not for a man to own,
A woman's lot is not for a man to decide,
A woman's lot is not for a man to discourage,
A woman's lot is not for a man to define,
A woman's lot is not for a man to pity,
A woman's lot is not for a man to despise,
A woman's lot is not for a man to fear.
Nor is it a man or a woman's job to to dictate,
What these lots mean to any one man or woman.
The only thing that should define either role,
Is respect for a choice made freely and willingly,
Without coercion or lack of opportunity,
With passion and love the driving force.
Will making fifty/fifty calls,
For women and Men without passion,
Or love of the choice made in their name,
That makes men ashamed to be men,
And women ashamed to be women,
Really be the path to a just society.
Can we not look to the great women of the past,
Who let passion and love,
Be their guide when mountains had to be climbed,
Men had to be convinced,
And social norms ignored.
These trail blazers who were not ashamed of their sex,
Who fought not to take over but to stand alongside on equal footing.
Will we ever understand that equality equals opportunity?
Opportunity equals progress,
Progress equals commitment,
Commitment equals Love, respect, passion, understanding,
Understanding equals lack of shame or guilt about a choice,
We should all be free to make by and for ourselves.
Only when we have learned the meaning of these words can we
Hope to one day reach the top of the mountain,
And see what grows where Love and Passion alone,
Are the driving force.
We don't see the stars as we once did.
We've lost contact now,
we live indoors.
We've lost the mythology of stars,
our ancestors once had.
They were glued to the celestial display at night,
and the stories and omens it told them.
Even when city-dwellers venture out at night,
to gaze and peer up at the night-sky of lights,
their view is dimmed by city lights, so bright.
Perhaps we should get out more at night,
and relearn what the ancients knew,
and what the stars told them.
It makes more sense than what we are told by science
much of which is quite frankly beyond belief.
In one Australian Aboriginal culture,
the Sun is female while the Moon is male.
"The Sun is a lovely old lady called Walu Yolngu"
She arises each morn and puts on her red ochre
this is why the sunrise is red.
Then the sun, sets a stringy bark tree on fire
and carries it across the sky and giving us daylight,
At day's end the sun puts out
the flaming stringy bark tree, and it's night till dawn.
The Moon is a bad person, called Ngalindi,
He is lazy, does nothing around the camp,
and becomes big and round and fat,
like the full moon.
His kin get so angry with his laziness
that they chop bits off him off each night.
So he gets thinner and thinner in phases.
Eventually he dies and disappears
completely for three nights in a row.
Then, he returns as a new full, fat new moon.
His is still, just as lazy, and loses his bits in phases.
This is charming, and makes much more sense
than what we are told in school.
We should get out more at night,
with our torches to read the ancient texts.
To relearn the lovely ancient stories again.
To put the heavenly soul back in the night sky.
There's a lot more out at night.