Best Mistaken Poems
'My' biggest mistake was being born a girl
I was never going to meet your expectations for you wanted a
Son and you got me ...mum said to you ‘I was the next best thing’
That’s maybe why you treated me and my sister
Anne so differently - she was like a princess
Kept by you and mum, never having to work
Even now she treats me like a second class citizen BUT
Now you are no longer here I am finally free from the past
There are no words to express my
Heartfelt sorrow at the way you treated me
All I wanted was to be loved by you but
That love was never ever there for me
You never acknowledged anything I achieved
Or the fact I gave you your only grandchild
Unwanted unloved that’s how I was made to feel by you
Looking back over my life has been difficult
Only recently I discovered the full extent of the
Variance between the way you treated us both during your lifetime
Except one thing you could never take away from me was my
Determination to stand on my own two feet and be my own person
Maybe life could have been different if you’d got the son you wanted BUT
Everything I have I worked for and I am proud of who I am
My Biggest Mistake Contest sponsored by Laura Loo
This is probably the most personal poem I have ever written but it has been so cathartic to finally put this down on paper and put my ghost to bed. Maybe in time I will finally grieve for my father, but I have been told by Hospice that this could take many years.
07~04~16
I never thought my tears would fall for you.
Never thought i would see meaness in your eyes.
I thought you were a friend.
A steady place, safe harbor from my troubled winds.
I never thought our trust and bound would be so broken.
Never thought harsh,cruel words would be spoken.
I thought your were my friend.
A shelter where i didn't have to pretend.
I never thought it was leading anywhere.
But i never thought you didnt care.
We judge in others
what we secretly fear within ourselves,
the mirror of hypocrisy polished daily
until it blinds our reason.
I have walked England’s most expensive street,
and as a Black man,
I was clothed in poverty not of my making—
criminal, beggar, illegal—
an identity sewn into me by design,
to dehumanize for the comfort of others,
a madness normalized as truth.
When I sought only direction,
Miss White turned her face,
her lips cracked with scorn:
“I have no money!”
Her eyes had already robbed me of my dignity
before I even spoke.
This is the devil’s philosophy:
that white is holy,
that pale skin is wealth and high class,
that color is a passport to an imaginary heaven.
And thus we measure souls
by the shade of their flesh
instead of the depth of their wisdom.
I have traveled—
Europe, Africa, Asia—
and everywhere the darker the skin,
the heavier the chains of suspicion.
A second-class citizen
in a world built on fear and mirrors.
Tell me—
has your consciousness evolved enough
to sit in judgment over another soul?
If color and money can buy respect,
then respect itself is counterfeit,
and the empire of prejudice
is poorer than the beggar you despise.
You may know who I am, but not
what I can do.
So let me extend some knowledge to
you.
I see you're new to the game.
It's a game I know very well.
You won't even remember.
The day that you fell.
I'll let you go places deep inside your
mind.
Then I'll twist your perception
of the things you might find.
I'll take you to places so dark that only
shadows can dwell.
I'll let you stand on the threshold of the doorway to
hell.
Then with all of your sexual senses
heightened.
I'll let you do things of which before you were frightened.
You'll bare the scars on your soul ,
that I leave my mark.
On those who survive their time with
me in the dark.
From your life and your loves , you
will be forsaken.
For I am the DEVIL please don't be
misTaken.
JD Berryhill 2012
I Cooked the Book that Would Not Tap
A Doomsday, a nightmare gone wrong,
My hand shot with pain and didn’t stop,
Bandages hid the wound I wove for kong,
The silence echoed round the wheel fop.
I screamed with tears which said the news,
When sirenes had been screened for writ,
Draughts unveiled the blood for reviews,
That cared enough to dare read the fit.
Arching, the doctor stood vacant and here,
Physicalism bent metaphor until she looped,
Analogy personified emphatic nature’s fear,
When realism criticised cubisms’ truly trooped.
Critical realism still made no ontological sense,
My metaphysical slippers knew no god,
Subjectivism objected to empirical arms tense,
When constructivism departed from my odd.
I could not write to epistemology for methodology,
‘Cos clearly my relativity had got it substantive.
Moral absolutism saw humankind as pedagogy,
Still, not yet a guess, a list, a bond, gift, a plaintiff.
Rationalism was not a natural phenomenon, fair,
No predicates set my entities alight to condition,
The proposition adjunct to abstract and layer,
I imagined the mathematics that truly supposition.
This OR that, tip AND rat, not for me or negation
FOR ALL humanities THERE EXISTS a surreal,
Mere, underneath my formula, nude propagation,
Creating the sum of me that axiomed regal’s legal.
Logic. Logic, just pure blooded logic. Critical,
Crucial. Conscience, not questioning the cost, fact,
Never asking for terms or claim, the carer brutal,
The dame. The lame as mentioning the act.
Structural.
Rhoda Monihan
Some say I look like Hemingway
Some say he looks like me.
But six-toed cats cannot be fooled
That’s why, from me, they flee.
Written by John Posey
03-16-13
Down around ankles were his trousers
as he caressed her he said wowzers
finding there no lady
it was all so shady
as he always seemed to pick posers
written 05/22/2014
contest Bawdy, Bawdy Bawdy Miss Clawdy
When we went to a steak house named Zake’s
We discovered a shocking mistake
That my wife’s meal had hair
So I asked why it’s there
They said, because she ordered shaved steak
Ok, I normally keep my cool.
I rarely get THAT mad.
I wanted to knock her teeth out!
Oh yes, it was that bad!
I was innocently shopping.
Going about my day.
I was finished with the browsing
so I headed up to pay.
This nasty, mid-aged woman
looked me in the eye
and what she said made my mouth drop
and made me want to cry!
She asked if I ''get the discount''.
Of course I said ''I don't know,
how do you get this discount? ''
and then she said...''Oh, no.''
''Forget it, I'm sure you don't.''
I knew what she meant then...
this woman was asking me
if I was a... SENIOR CITIZEN! !
It takes alot to get me mad
and I never ever swear
but, let's just say I bit my tongue
as I left that day from there!
I told her she just ruined
what had been a decent day.
She gave a smirk and brushed me off
with little more to say.
Perhaps I don't look twenty...
this I will admit.
But, she was at least 60
and looked every day of it.
How rude to ask a woman
when she's only 34
if she's a senior citizen!
I won't shop there anymore! !
There was an eel on the ocean floor,
Sammy his name, he knew the score.
His friends said, he was smart,
Then upon a dinner cart,
He said, Hey, I am not an albacore.
A bad crime has landed me in jail,
I also told the judge "Go to hell,"
for while serving the time
I did not do the crime...
Honest! It was my twin brother Sal.
The royal cat nips from staring morning glories drunkenly pounces
Mark and Micheal,
were identical twins,
who would confuse,
every one in the world,
who do not know them.
One time came,
Mark bought a boat
that knocked the same day,
Micheal's mum died.
A few days later,
a funny old lady,
short and small,
mistaking him for his brother.
She said i'm sorry to hear
about your loss,
you must feel it terrible",
Mark, thinking that she
was meaning his boat.
He replied a big no,
really i'm glad to be rid of her,
she was a rotten old thing,
directly from the start.
Her engine was all shrivelled,
and smelled like a seven days
dead dog!
she was always losing
her water and had a big
crack in the back,
even a pretty big hole in the front.
Every time i used her,
her hole becomes big,
and she leaked like crazy.
Finally i guessed,
what finished her when i rented
her the five big guys,
looking for a good time.
I warned them all,
she wasn't very good,
but all the fools tried to get
in her ! she split right up
the middle",
The old lady fainted.
We went to a grand masquerade,
My love and I, this night;
I wore a sweet pink gown and mask,
Oh, we were quite a sight.
I was twirled and swirled and then dipped,
In my ear he whispered;
At the stroke of midnight we meet,
Sweet kissing- I pictured.
Our meeting place, the rose arbor,
I spoke with the handsome;
Many a slow dance with masked men,
Love vanished- a phantom.
Midnight and out to the garden,
Oh, so dark with shadow;
I saw him under the arbor,
And there was no hello.
I kissed his lips with deep desire,
And he enclosed me tight;
But, I sensed something different--
Why was the moon not bright?
I pulled away with a loud gasp,
This man was not my love;
I bumped into my love walking,
I flew like a pink dove.
Inside, I collected myself,
Two men- and one did wink;
Oh my dear, have you met my twin--
I blushed a deep pink, pink.
______________________
July 27, 2016
Poetry/Rhyme/Mistaken Identity
Copyright Protected, ID 812-030-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the Premiere Contest Number 4
sponsor, A Skat
Ninth Place
They have been struggling for years
with the tag of:
racism,prostitution,gayism,witchcraft,womanizing,
beastiality,canibalism and satanism.
Truthful men won't be shaken by mistaken identity.