Best Missed The Boat Poems
She sits in the old rocking chair
Threads of silver in her golden hair
Alone in the glow of candle light
She rocks so gently in the night
Outside the autumn leaves do fall
As shadows dance upon the wall
Crystal tears in eyes of china blue
Fall for the love she never knew
He came to shore that summer day
His schooner anchored in the bay
And with a glance her knees grew weak
She lost her voice and could not speak
For there he stood so tall and lean
The handsome man in all her dreams
And he broke her heart that summer day
When he said goodbye and sailed away
The Painful Facts
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
Dedicated to Chantel
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
Apparently now, Jan in the year 2019, States like New York have opted to let go of civilization altogether and drown their laws with paganism and child sacrifice. Lord God have mercy on us !? or not?
-Robert A. Dufresne
PS.
ET TU VERMONT ? FEB 20 2019
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
God bless you Chantel.
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
-Robert A. Dufresne
I believe, I may have missed the boat
The water’s deep, I couldn’t float
Perhaps the marks I set weren’t high
The tide’s in now – I’ll wave bye-bye
I read Thoreau and Frost, I know
Of wilderness and falling snow
Of Roads Not Taken tongue in cheek
Of singing trees and babbling creek
With pomp and ceremony flyin’
I stopped to sniff a dandelion
To watch a honey bee rejoice
At making such a tasty choice
I sit beside the croaking pond
A heron blending with the frond
A muskrat watches warily
A dragonfly upon my knee
My pants are frayed, my kayak weathered
I share my time with furred and feathered
Visiting these woods, their home
Leave them, as I came, alone
Hurricanes Up Close And Personal
As of this writing, Florence is intensifying and threatening the shores of the Carolinas. She is dangerous, even in her early stages and may pattern herself after Katrina or Irma. Should she do so, the candles, oil lamps, flashlights, matches, and other essential items will be in great demand. Do your shopping early lest you be caught unawares. Evacuate if directed and do not adopt the attitude that you will be okay if you stay. Drowning men grasp at straws, but drown nevertheless. How long can you stay afloat? Don't be like the man who refused help from others by saying "God will take care of me". He ignored the boat who stopped by, and a helicopter that hovered above him and he perished in the storm. When he reached the Pearly Gate, he queried God as to why He failed to spare him. God's answer was, "you missed the boat", "and the helicopter I sent". So, I ask the question again --- "How long can you stay afloat?"
8 September 2018
For the contest sponsored by Sara Kendrick
Picture No. 4
"is this ticket redeemable"
Once I thought that
poems had faces
whose silent plans
offer checkered meditations,
who weave endings
to hope´s beginnings,
whose raw robust smiles
explode in dizzy contemplations,
who unravel strings of time
into quantum fits of rhyme.
Then I saw that
Songs are
A singing
Where I
From my
Self-
Emerge
Unstating myself
(abandoning grammar as
prepositions avoid place)
I say
(failing to claim that time
gave birth to nothing) that my!
“God
(being an adverb)
I missed the boat”
Nothing disappoints like a misleading title
For your reader will look for its theme throughout
And if no plausible link can be made, the reader
Will wonder why you chose that random word or phrase
With no credible link to your chosen lines or your theme
Perhaps, you should rewrite it from the beginning
For if your work does not reflect the title you chose
The reader is certainly apt to think you missed the boat.
The title of your poem is like a door swinging wide open
Welcoming the curious reader to look at what is inside
When your readers step inside the scene you have created
They will search for meaningful words and appropriate phrases
Lines that explain the title you have painstakingly chosen
It can be clever, or funny, or point to what lies ahead, but
Make no mistake, my friend, when expressing yourself
Your title is the key that unlocks the story you are telling.
HONORABLE MENTION
Written on April 27, 2021
For "What's in a Title in 14-20 Lines" Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Of Pith and Tar
Leaves are burning, bleeding and turning
their insides all running out
I see the fires of forests churning
before the Lorax can shout
Towers and spires are pouring out gas
clouds tumbling over skies on the lake
students seem to be crying during Sunday mass
angry about their fathers being fake
The bushes had a dream one time
a future that could have been bright
but the bells have all begun to chime
waking them up in the chaos of this blistering night
I heard that there used to be hope
that somewhere in time there was a stitch
but I guess we missed the boat
because the roots are all drowning in black pitch
Pith and tar
gone so far
can't see the light of day
Bled so much
from devil's touch
nothing left but to pray
sorrows of the fir
the birch and the oak
heaven can't help anymore
because of the golden rules we broke
Pith and tar
lasting scar
can't believe we did this
Pith and tar
the land we marred
no more nature's bliss
my maiden had a kiss for me
but she left it under guard
protected by a juniper tree
one that is splintered and charred
So much for future
so little left to have to hold
the world tried to care and nurture
but all we had was coal and gold
the mountains are all felled
the valleys under tar and fires
we praised false gods and yelled
but all we are in truth are liars
nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
Dedicated to Chantel
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
-Robert A. Dufresne
You can look the other way, say you did not see a thing
Do not want to get involved, let the other guy do it
Beside you have to many other things to do
You want to hear the music, but you don't want to sing
If backed into a corner, you throw a fit
That is what some people will do
Don't take a stand, but go with the flow
Power in numbers, but the majority is not always right
Some day if you lose your right to vote
That would be a sad thing for anyone to know
You would lose the war without a fight
And complain that you missed the boat
You say you want relaxation and distractions
Besides this is all to complicated to understand
It works in their plan, they will give it to you
Like taking candy from a baby, could care less of your reactions
Like a heavy fog it will cover this land
And this is what they are planning to do
If your head is in the cloud, you will never see a thing
If you turn a deaf ear, you will hear less
Never get called on, if you do not raise your hand
They want you totally numb, never feel a thing
And we wonder why we are in such a mess
Some live in La La Land, with their head in the sand
RADIO VOICES
Thirty-three and a half minutes listening to the static;
I'm one big ear! hoping to hear a message
from the other side...
Beethoven has an unfinished symphony he wants completed,
Arthur Conan Doyle complains fiction today is all detective work,
Joan of Arc loves Mel Brooks.
Thirty-four and a half minutes and my patience snaps;
I turn to RTE, the writer Derek Mahon
Is being discussed by a panel.
They've detected importance in his poem
'A Disused Shed in Co. Wexford'.
Mushrooms decaying in the dark,
Holy Joes adrift in a Godless cellar,
Sweethearts who've missed the boat,
Bollards moored in misery,
Death-pale and ghostly.
I would store this poem in a cool dark place
and only bring it out into the light of day
for a bookish friend, a literature hound;
it merits close inspection.
The Who,s down in Whoville
Well, I've heard them sing before
I don't think that they're great
Nor did I feel that way before
Oh, they hum a pretty tune
and can reach a lofty note
But compare them to the "What,s"
I think Who,s have missed the boat
Of course there are "The How,s"
And "The When,s" and "The Why,s"
And "The Where,s" can carry tunes
That much I realize
But if you want perfection
From those who'll make the cut
Then wear some ear protection
And listen to the "What,s"
AKA Dr. Mousse
Though not really that old, living piece of my face cut away,
Tissue sacrificed hoping that Basil cell cancer is cleared
Never much for the beach scene, a tan has just lost its appeal
And those chemical skin dyeing tan shops now seem better deal.
You remember the real thing you wanted so much it was strange?
The romanticized look of the Marlboro Man on his horse
Knowing well that this fictional guy played to our fantasies
Between sun burns and cigarettes, barker of home deep in range.
A loose tooth’s not the same though as losing a piece of yourself
For just starters most teeth have a spare that fills in when we’re young
But the loss of a breast is a shock for both woman and man
Though man’s feelings about this most visible loss go unsung.
Have you thought about losing your voice, sense of touch, or of sight?
To lose hearing or taste, looks or laugh, would be terrible right?
There’s an absence of balance that teeters when things disappear
Like a beer without fizz that lies flat on the tongue and can’t dance.
But would losing your mind truly be all that bad if it came?
I’ve heard hospital food doesn’t kill you as fast anymore.
For the way the world’s going at least you’d escape without blame
And no family bothers to tell you how you missed the boat.
But the piece of yourself that you don’t want to lose most of all
Is the woman or man who stayed close by your side through each squall,
Facing hardship and pain, when there’s nothing to gain, you now see
That for all of their faults there’s no place on earth they’d rather be.
Brian Johnston
September 26, 2015
I think you've missed the boat
it's time to stop trying
Her words echoed through me
but never will I stop trying
Sometimes it's better
to be on a journey
even if you never
reach the destination
To give up leads to depression
I can't make it
there's no point trying
never will I waste my time
beleiving
there is no future
better to have tried and failed
than never to have tried at all
having a dream
working towards that dream
gives you a purpose in life
gives you a mountain to climb
gives you a road of contentment
perhaps the dream I carry
is beyond my means to succeed
I dream of overcoming poverty
creating a world that works
together
away from the suffering of the past
a world that gives up on violence
a world that builds entertainment
that all can enjoy
a world that builds excitement
leaving behind the uglyness
of anger revenge and abuse
a world that respects each other
perhaps my dreams are beyond
the reach of any man
yet working together
we are each only one person
one person that can learn
to make a better life.
You know you’re out of luck
When you hear the carbage truck
At 6 o clock in the morning,
with a new day barely dawning.
That sound of metal churning
Sets your tired brain cells turning
Why is it you feel ill at ease
Before Christmas festivities?
Then with a bolt you sit upright
You know what you forgot last night
It’s already bursting at the seams
And now it’s shattering your dreams.
Jump out of bed, scantily clad ,
This is your only job as Dad ,
You cannot let the family down,
So grab your paisley dressing gown.
Fly down the stairs and grab the key
Look for your slippers frantically
For you can only contemplate,
That sure and certain deadly fate,
That will befall you should you fail,
(And all the Christmas plans derail),
Because you did not remember,
For that one time in December,
That the refuse bin collection day
Has now moved to a Saturday.
The dog, in canine style reflection,
Wonders why a simple bin collection
Can cause this human agitation,
Stress and clearly consternation?
A dog though, does not understand
That the blue bin is already crammed
With paper, plastic, card and tin
And cannot fit any more therein.
So keep the date and don’t forget
Or you will soon live to regret
The bin is full, you missed the boat,
So please just make a mental note !