Best Lucrative Poems
A huge monstrous olive tree
not giving shade nor bearing fruits,
existing in pains and disappointments
together with the others, they live
is the exact expression of my grieve.
Too hypocritical in being aggressive
and defeated by the contraceptive of my try
condemn and make me believe
I'm failure's chief executive.
How am I to know
that every attempt completed
is success' eve?
How am I to know
that more failure is effective?
How am I to know
that I ought to be vigilant
and be patient like a detective?
faulting the situation, myself I deceive
and landing in this mess
surely wasn't my motive
I should have been more creative
instead of staying sensitive to my senses
and searching for palliative methods
of scoring my goal.
I shouldn't have used
my cognitive functions this way,
perceiving challenges as dangers
always attentive to the red light
when it is in fact yellow.
Running away,
when the push seems less attractive
and summing up the crash
to be definitive.
For all these years
the agony has been an adhesive
to my soul.
comparative to a privileged bridegroom
who outslept his wedding
to an undeserving bride.
As descriptive as that,
mine is even more corrosive.
Now I pay taxes to sadness
and my regret more lucrative than ever before
as nature chooses my heart
to be the dwelling place of sorrow
keeping my self-ruin well preserved.
I've tried to turn back time
I've tried to apply similar energy
and pretense is now my best talent
but all I get is NOTHING!
I'm only left with wishes
a million times have I made them
and a million times more I'll proclaim them
but they will all stand as cup-bearers
to my constant regrets.
as I forever say........
I wish! Oh I wish!
Categories:
lucrative, grief, sad,
Form:
Prose Poetry
It seems you are not taxed enough
But the government knows what to do
and even though the times are tough
The state needs revenue.
We'll bring to law, a knowledge tax
On each concept that you grasp
And then put forth an oxygen tax
For every breath you gasp
I envision a lucrative walking tax
From jaunt to slow meander
I see a tax on every scent
from garbage to fresh oleander
A blinking tax would open your eyes
and surely allow you to see
That people love paying taxes
Except for taxes on tea.
Categories:
lucrative, political
Form:
Rhyme
Economic development is the precondition of higher living standard
Therefore we should focus on economic development at first
We know infrastructural development is a must
For economic development of any country
So the government should go for it in the first place
And if necessary they should go for partnership with private entrepreneurs
Now it’s an open market economy
If we want to take off to the sky of prosperity
We need to utilize our own resources including manpower
We need to figure out our competitive advantages
Because it’s not a hard task for us in the information era
Now-a-days tourism is a lucrative sector for any government
Because we are living in the time of globalization
Protectionism is now a history
That’s why
The role of commercial banks and other financial institutions
Is more pivotal than ever
They should provide loan to the industrialists
In such a manner and style
So that the latter can import cutting-edge tech
In order to survive in the fierce competition of open market
Categories:
lucrative, inspirational, political, visionary,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The natives believe that the Mississippi River
carries the souls of their ancestors into the water of judgment
wherein they will either enter the Sun's fire of joy
or sit in the ice of the Moon having their feathers counted and examined,
I suspect that when we, The Corps of Discovery accomplish our mission
this Grandfather river will haunt us like a deep dream that fights Time,
He is an American river now, an avenue for the trade of empire, substance and soul,
President Jefferson purchased the Louisiana Territory from Napoleon in 1803
for 15 million dollars, enough gold to build a bed with
and a landscape large enough to construct a nation on,
it is now summer of 1804 and with hearts, rifles and ores we explore
into lands that lurk with life old as oceans and tribes ageless in tribulation,
we are three dozen men whom hunt not warriors or wealth
raiding and rapine be not our pleasure, war party song our spirit sings not,
we are agents of destiny,
emissaries of Washington and explorers of the Northwest Passage,
the Spanish, French, and English already have merchants and mercenaries
peppered in remote areas of lucrative wilderness
furs, precious metals and trade routes lay naked to the will of disciplined conquest,
for the Indians survival is the business, their heritage hinges on heroism,
everyone has a claim yet only one power will reign,
J.A.B.
Categories:
lucrative, adventure, america, christian, courage,
Form:
Epic
I am the honey pot
Famous for the well brewed bittersweet content within my belly
Like molten chocolate sweet, only more sumptuous
Not that I’m a bragger –
But many have come to me for an ounce of my content
And I must say; it has them licking their fingers
They can’t seem to have enough of me
But before you judge me a drug – hard or soft; which I’m none
It’s gospel my attraction is just as strong if not more
Having colleagues at all ranks, my fan base is overwhelmingly high -
Dozen power suits have shaken hands with me
Lucrative business deals sealed in my presence
Services are efficient under my order
Law lenient at the mention of my name
Findings less unraveling with me at the middle
Lands change titles under my brokerage
A few helping hands more willing at the sight of me
Small favours too at this age seek me first
My tentacles truly reach far and wide
And lest you call me a blackmailer or worse a prey –
I seek not, but sought after
Hooked as a bait on my colleagues’ preying poles
And cast into the stream of the less fortunate
To the oceans of abundance
Where their ever hungry greed is never filled
They care less of my side effects
That range from a sour reputation
Law catching up if I don’t buy a way out for them
To the recycled injustices from the days of their fathers
Injustices that to date rock the social, political, economic arenas
Bitter side aside–
I still remain an allure
To them it is survival of the fittest
©GraceM Composition
Categories:
lucrative, character, corruption, history, drug,
Form:
Free verse
I love you the best, but you LIE with your invites
Leisurely you come to entice my taste bud and hijack my brain
Oblivious to the addiction of sugary, fatty, salty foods
Victorious you come out ahead, lucrative to my waist
Eating for pleasure than hunger
French fries crisp and delicious you cannot eat just one
Oh, slathered with gooey cheese & pepperoni with sausage & tomato yummmmmm….
Onions rings, Cheese burgers, Bacon so loaded with what is bad -for -you my undoing
Desirable cravings, makes my heart a beating, swooning for the meltinyourmouth good
6/29/2016
Contest: I love food
Sponsored: Lewis Raynes
Categories:
lucrative, addiction, food, heart, i
Form:
Acrostic
Can i drift away in your silhouette?
or just stare consciously at the road ahead
for technique is lucrative in the battle
but whats a battle if you're already dead
listen carefully
I'm planning to subvert the misfit
who is unworthy of the crown
but sovereignty doesn't appeal to me
in all honesty if darkness attacks
all i want is you beside me
the love would be all the protection we need
but when your gone i would be...
waiting for the second coming
and you my goddess
are made in my image in likeness??.
Categories:
lucrative, beautiful, girlfriend, hope, love,
Form:
Free verse
Families sacrifice savings, every petty frill
Praying a lucrative grade to mill
Seeking a bartered shill
Greedy coffers to fill
Hopes and dreams to rill
Nuggets of fine gold to spill
On Porcupine creek's nettled till
Hearty crew of six sated to drill
Though sorely lacking experience. skill
Shoddy equipment of patchwork steel
Surrendering to elements with whimper, squeal
Black sand, gritty rocks pass through grill
Garnering thin wispy flakes; will not pay the bill
Note: A diatribe on the Discovery TV show Gold Rush
Categories:
lucrative, adventure, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
Literature was pursued
by the greatest individuals who ever lived,
and they left us works of unsurpassable wisdom;
human emotions have always been the same,
and this can't attest to the fact that they will not change anytime soon,
but the freer we are, the further we go up in our balloon.
The richest heritage of Humankind
is found in the written word, which is heard often and not really understood;
where would we be today without the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare that were quite sad,
or Dante's famous canto, not excluding superb works by modern writers?...
During the dark ages, monks translated books from Greek and Latin into common languages;
as the barbarians destroyed everything found in their path, civilization did not end.
Tragedies of famous people attracted the lucrative minds of poets who had heard of them,
thus embellishing them with their vivid imagination and present actual facts...I follow in
their poetic footsteps, writing down stories that have recently happened, or occurred
before I was born; and with ideas as interesting as theirs, I continue in that tradition
without envying their unaging expressions and distinguished style, but by aggrandizing them.
Literature has finally found its merited place in History, unlikely a hundred years ago,
more people are voraciously reading, and keeping the writers busy by admiring
their sensational works, making comments of encouragement to boost up their optimism;
and to theaters they go and spent an entire night to listen to drama and satire...to scoff,
laugh, or cry when emotions intensify by the sconces of the electric lights; and cheering,
they applaud the richest heritage of Humankind on stage, and are captivated by its scenario.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
lucrative, dedication, funny, history, imagination,
Form:
Narrative
Like spindled glass,
remnants filter in timeless twine,
Peaceful moments - retrieve the silence,
Like new velvet stockings, ladders await.
Time itself fraught, with abandon abate...
Yet nestled high, marooned with intrigue,
Time still time, in search origin with trace.
Times silky sands neath craggy rocks,
every rain drop accounted?
every snowflake free?
remnants filter in timeless twine,
Time retires countless moments,
With our memoirs we agree to disagree.
We selvedge our past tenths,
The lucrative lessons we behold,
Our well worn velvet stockings,
few ladders some bereft,
This future has unfold,
remnants filter in timeless twine,
Time retires countless moments...
Time retires Time...
Categories:
lucrative, art, goodbye,
Form:
Concrete
Slaves to media hype
Feeding your numb minds
With news tripe
Celebrity Correspondence
Filled glossy pretence
Lost all feeling of common sense
In there defence, they are paid
To believe in their own self importance
Documenting lives of no consequence
Details scrutinized, laying in wait
With prying eyes, having to go out in disguise
When actually this brings more attention
Did I forget to mention? That was their intention!
Staples and tucks, staple to the diet
Eating thin air, to keep them quiet
Ten pounds gained would cause a riot
Paid to kiss and tell, myths to dispel
And expose the jezebel, cut her to size
Sent to the press gutter hell
Snapped in precarious places
With powder nose faces
Or solicited embraces
Lawyers with sharks fin
Ready to lure in
Unsuspectin’
Paid lucrative deals
Ensuring nobody squeals
Eating into royalties
Big bucks and bigger fees
This addiction, this disease
Once tasted, hard to leave
Brainwashed to believe
This is the only way
Yes, it’s naïve
But when you’re stuck in L.A. L.A. Land
With the good, ugly and the tanned
And your face is your brand
What else are you going to do?
You’re sold out and see through
Left exposed, battered, black and blue
Become reclusive behind 12 foot walls
You don’t go out and nobody calls
Washed up, wasted, worthless
No one left to impress
In your final distress
You consume pills
For imagined ills
Locked up in Hollywood hills
Drugs to wake, drugs to sleep
One to many and in to deep
Found by a maid in a heep
But at least A listers attended
And your send off was splendid
And they cried, even if they pretended
No, not like you intended
But you’re a star in the street
Forever remembered in concrete…
Categories:
lucrative, slam, social
Form:
Rhyme
REGULATIONS
BY
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Two sources of laws that govern the lives of men
One’s called survival the other a stroke of the pen
Those from survival are easy to list
Food, water and shelter so we can exist
Those from mans hand are often not clear
A crime over there is legal over here
Man’s laws may be admirable at their writing
Later found questionable at their citing
Laws, ordinances , regulations or policy norm
With so many restrictions not easy to conform
Don’t forget rules they’re important as well
Am I acting legally or awaiting a cell
Take the sinister case of the berlin wall
Many tried to cross it only to fall
It had been prohibited to go to the west
Any attempt to flee would result in arrest
One night a defector was fatally shot
Hung over barbed wire destined to rot
Then guess what happened the very next day
Passed a law if you want to go west “ its ok”
An example of a law that caused men to die
An illegal extortion forcing free men to defy
There are needs for law and order to protect
Each new law tightens the noose on a citizens neck
The penalty for breaking a law way back when
Put the guilty in leg blocks or a public pen
Shame him in front of neighbors and friends
Humiliation may cause his lawlessness to end
The initial mandate of imposing a fine
Worked quite well for a very long time
Regulations(2)
It became so lucrative new laws were soon due
Pile on new charges, generate more revenue
A man runs a red light cops are hot on his tail
There’s so many charges he may not make bail
Want to change the house color from tan to gray
Need to get permission from a hundred miles away
Redo these doors on the inside of my flat
Got to submit plans and a copy of the plat
It just gets tougher each request causes a fuss
Easier for the government to keep a rein on us
To control the masses is an easy feat
They just add more laws just never delete
It’s easy to have contempt for so many laws
The enforcement of them is loaded with flaws
A girl with drugs gets years of incarceration
Drunken teenager kills four receives probation
Additional laws will make us quiet as a mouse
You’ll soon need a permit to leave the house
Categories:
lucrative, analogy, conflict, freedom, hyperbole,
Form:
Rhyme
Let me……….Let me … Let me in….. Let me in,
I want you, I miss you…… Mum!
Let me... Let me... Let me... Mum Lead me!
As something inside me is burning,
Let me be, let me! Be me,
Face of Stella get in and be with me!
I want you tell me everything is gona be okay,
Now let me write the spectrum between death and life of my mother,
I’m clement about my mum even when deceased and vanished.
I always heed to her spirits even when I know it’s a myth.
Mum without you, no me, no words, I would have transcribed,
Nothing is synonymous to you, mother
Because the love I feel for you is eternal.
I’m one lucky guy, my mum is in heaven, I, am still in haven.
There’re flashes I remember,
I remember talking to my mum when I’m a sleep,
And then, when dawn ruptured, indeed I recollected everything she had told me,
She told me, “When you start from nadir, you can glimpse zenith.”
My mum holds my hand and fills the gaps in between my fingers, when no one else can,
Gad dam it, that was just a hallucination but I fondle it.
My mother played her position,
I’m playing my cards and My numbers are bingo!
I perceive and heed to her voice every nightfall,
My mum whispers to my ears saying, “Cling on to ecstasy my son.” I’m with you.
She may be gone,
But her soul is wiggling with God, mine mingles with hers!
Let me accolade my mum,
Even when evil always wheels from North to south, my aegis is my mum,
My mum is my afflatus in my acreage.
My mum left me callow,
She vanished during my juvenile stint,
But I’m pursuing and so far opened new leaflets and lucrative I am now,
The canons suggest that the dead are not dead,
They just switched to the phantom zone,
So her soul is mythical in my presence,
But In the back of my mind, my mum is animate.
Face of Stella is me.
Mother, these are my words to you.
In loving memory of my Queen Mother #Stella
©Bryan De poet
©Tsi
Categories:
lucrative, dedication, mother son, sorrow,
Form:
Name
Overflowing like the sparkling spring from acerbity,
The emerald stones on the relieve peak
Causing welling up like stormy waves,
And breath taking halt, grunting
Roar as the thundering drums reverberating;
The window pout unfold a feature
As when open wide,
Spoilt by the joyful loudness of croaking;
Grief lips drawn taut
Drop spreading flow,
Drop to wash the ripe Apple cheeky, drop
And meandering through grooves and porous ream
Obstacles of pendants and pillars;
Conclusively arrived, making the jugular waterfall,
Cascading into sea of tears.
True, men do not weep
That bespeaks Hercules vaunting ego,
But, I thank you sir,
Often they sob now or before
Not for unfaithful heart breaks
For loves aplenty,
Not often loves for not excusing
In passing by to greater beyond,
But on lucrative dear deal that sore gone,
On capital fretted away
On good look in,
But crash without remorseful pity
The masculine effeminately swim in river of tears.
Strokes of wipes to back from savage master
The oppressive bully to hapless youth,
Which draws livid reddish lines picture
And rabid yell of agony on twisted mouth,
When puerile little lad yelp
Could be for appeasing breast
But, definitely not for help,
Could lustfully be warmth of mama’s arms,
Things we’re n't aware but peradventure leg to arms
Or nothing, whichever way,
Their stubborn screaming suggest
Ways of impuissant expressing unanswered request.
Tears of gladness
Moved to elevating joy,
To see again long time lost love,
Surely for ages and time agone
Surprising hugs with all kisses,
Dearest who aforethought cross beyond
But now you are prospering.
Categories:
lucrative, funnytime,
Form:
Lyric
Saw the advertisement of a sleazy Volkswagen
Surfed the net as the seed was sown
For anything based on german technology
I knew nothing about car mechanisms
Except the comfort of conveniences
Yet updated my limited knowledge
With its mileage, performance, safety
Saw the diesel and petrol options
Of the Vento sedan facelift images
And I struck the hammer for
An ivory Vento petrol run sedan
Thought it to be the most perfect gift
For my no demanding husband whose
Passion for good cars was no secret
But had never indulged in such luxury
It looked as chaste and modest
Yet powerful in making its presence felt as he
The plush ivory seat covers made me drool
The hatchback was a a luxury for holidaying
Car loans were enticing with festive offers
I had saved enough for the initial down payment
Before it reached home at the traffic lights
An illiterate rickshaw puller scoffing all rules
Squeezed his way between two cars
To leave a scar on the front door
The heart on a trapeze on highways with
Many more dents and bangs on tragic Indian roads
Fuming and fretting at every imbecile
Given a driving license without any lesson
The plush seats became uncomfortable
And the ass became sore
The generosity of an overwhelmed heart
Seemed not a very lucrative proposition
As every pay packet announced debits
With fewer coins on retail therapy
Alas! The years of stringent measures
Will die within a week with the end of the last debit
The Old Vento is finally ours, but wonder
Is it really ivory that I had bought six years ago?
Is it the same sedan whose facelift images that had lured me?
Or does it need a facelift?
Balveen Cheema
January 1, 2015
Contest: Cars- Only for Women
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Categories:
lucrative, car, desire, giving, husband,
Form:
Free verse