Best No Nonsense Poems
So sensationally super; Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel
Oppresso de liber, optimistically captivating; oratorical
Saintly passionate, succulent salmon sampler; sweetheart!
Exquisitely enchanting, enchantingly amatorious; éclat!
Playful, painstakingly passionate, pajama wearer, patient
Handsomely helpful handyman, harmonizer of happiness
Sweet as syrup, shining armor off the shelf; savoir-faire!
Red-blooded poetry connoisseur and radioactively lovable!
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Won Seventh Place Position
"Tell Me About You Contest"
June 16, 2010
Sponsored by Amy Green
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*Sung to the tune of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” Intended to be taken
humorously.
“When are you gonna grow up?
It is in jail you will land
You’ll have to stay after class
And I’ll be talking to your old man”
“You know you can’t hold me forever
The last school bus is now due
You can’t rap my knuckles with your ruler now
Stand in my way and I’ll just run through
So nah, nah, nah…
“So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were cruel
The Catholic school’s finally closing
The lunchroom’s stopped serving gruel
“I’m taking that bus, might never get off
Don’t want to face my Dad’s wrath
Oh, I’ve finally decided to free myself
And set out on my own path
So nah, nah, nah…”
“How can you earn a living?
You can’t even spell your name
You’ll be required to take some remedial courses
And stop playing silly head games”
“Maybe you’ll get a new convent
I hear there’s some room in Brazil
Students there might appreciate
A no-nonsense sister with a voice shrill
So nah, nah, nah…
“So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were crude
The altar boys have been set free
The priests are no longer lewd
“I’d like to stay, watch them raze it
The site with torture imposed
Where skeletons still hide in the closets
Nevermore to be exposed
So nah, nah, nah…”
*For John Heck’s “Dear John” contest.
Those of us who attended St. Joseph’s just learned the school is being closed.
Although a good education was provided, some students were beaten there repeatedly.
I feel a good education was provided, but they went overboard with discipline.
CAR COURT
Enter, the older heavyweight steel giant,
The bailiff, a 1954 Hudson, reads unhesitant :
On the docket for this morning : guilty by implication - a Trabant,
In close custody with a Cutlass Supreme for supervision.
Next on the docket: a Pinto for likely gas-tank explosion.
Third on the docket: an English-made car (any marque) - body corrosion.
Lawyer for the prosecution, a pretentious character, a gas guzzler SUV
4x4 off-road with winch - for Saturday use on driveway only -
Hangs out with Vettes; and uses NO2 in fuel. Who?Drugs? Not me!
Downbeat guy as the defence counsel , a solid no nonsense Hummer,
A real enviro-bummer,
Klutzy ugly and personality like a mack truck in summer.
Trabant coughed its way to the stand.
Clerk of court Volkswagen, order in hand,
Read the indictment quietly, efficiently, bland.
Prosecution began with noisy opening musical-horn tunelets
The jury, all serious-minded stolid Volvos and Toyota Starlets
Were not impressed. Hummer clumsily interrupted with an objection, “Let’s
Stop, on the grounds of precedent,” but at this point Pinto reversed,
Crushed its trunk and its gas-tank exploded, and worst ,
Hit the the English car : and into flames they both burst.
Cutlass argued with the SUV, which was winched away pending sentence.
Case against the English car dismissed from lack of evidence.
Trabant was deported back to Germany: no import licence
Overseeing all these proceedings : the ever-reliable, I-won’t-budge,
The I-have-a-spotless-reputation, I-hold-no-grudge,
The mechanical virgin, the silent Rolls Royce as judge.
...........................................................................................................
He sat at the beer stained table,
a cigarette in his fingers.
Smoke pooling round his cloth capped head,
the look in his eyes still lingers.
From his rough wool shirt to his DIY tattoo
I could tell he was no stranger to labour.
From the scars on his face and his broken nose,
you wouldn't want him as a neighbour.
Yet he had about him a dignity,
a rough hewn, no nonsense stance.
And eyes that spoke volumes of his life
that sparked and mirrored and danced.
His hands bore the wear of a life of toil,
his shoulders a little stooped and weary.
And, whether it was the smoke or memory,
at times he seemed a little teary.
He sat and sipped his favourite drink,
a dark, nutty ale from the cask.
What tales had he? What stories to tell?
If I'd only the nerve to ask.
Feeling alone like I’m by myself on an Island,
Spending time within my mind and forever rhyming,
Remembering everything comes together slowly when ya smiling,
Like a raw gem that transforms into a well-crafted diamond,
While aware of the memories in the shadows that keep crying,
Tomorrows a better day when we can see over the horizon,
Compiling and filing my thoughts with perfect timing,
Always protecting my inner being while reconciling as I climb,
Climbing this ladder in this life I was given,
Driven by the beauty I see,
Knowing where I come from through my family tree,
Knowing where I’ve been, what I’ve seen,
With an active mind with neurons connecting,
Directing notions without any commotions,
Our imaginations are like the ocean,
Vast with changing tides of emotion,
Unspoken words become broken,
If you continue to keep silent,
This life we are experiencing can be vibrant,
So I look out the window and past the social climate,
Stop hiding and check out some info,
Gaining strength as I go, my way,
This is true wealth making sure I don’t betray myself,
Looking to a bookshelf to help myself learn,
Understanding one’s self has to be earned,
Through the burning temptations as I yearn for more,
The need to explore through the open door to find what’s yours,
Working on my mental flaws as I pause to give thanks,
Lighting my lamp in times of darkness,
Seeing the vastness in my mind,
Finding I have greatness that needs to be rhymed,
Designed and well organized by my inner sidekick,
Quick and honest with no nonsense I give thanks to my subconscious,
As I make a promise to myself with my inner logic,
To always write my insight and be cautious and flawless.
Quincy Mac
Date Written: 30.4.2016
Let me be clear with no fear
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Sensationally super, and Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel!
Comments: During my twenty plus years of military service I was always called
Spence, J. That's just the way the government does business. This acrostic is
about Spence, J. It's crafted on a combination of alliteration, assonance and
consonance sounding words. Eggnog at Christmas is my favorite. Having a
Sunday afternoon sundae at the ice cream parlor is oh so tasty. Wow! I just love
it!!! Anyway, here are some comments on writing an acrostic. The basic acrostic
poem is formed by writing a word vertically down the page, which may also be
the topic of the poem. It’s recommended to use one letter per line, and the
beginning letters should be all capital ones. Each line of the poem should begin
with the letter on that line and the line should pertain to the word or title being
used. Some may recommend using one word or a phrase which does not have
to rhyme; however, one may move beyond the basic acrostic form and use a
complete thought with a rhyming sequence. It’s also recommended to use
adjectives and phrases that describe the word or subject of the acrostic. Finally,
one may take the quantum leap and write a double acrostic where the first and
last letters of each line are the same.
Dependable Defender Jésus Christ of Nazareth Football Club
This morning lost His appeal for the red card He received
During His side game with the highly rated Pharisees
He’ll be unavailable for their match against the Sadducees
He was sent off by no-nonsense referee Pontius Pilate
For defeating a host of Principalities and Powers
The Club failed to have the decision overturned by the Jurisdiction
He will therefore be sentenced to death by crucifixion
The ‘Special One’ is to make no comment on the decision
After Herod Disciplinary Committee dismissed the club’s appeal
Jésus offered Himself as a *Sacrificial Lamb* for a collective guilt
On the football club’s recent sloppiness and wilt
The Stalwart Defender's Penalty
Will begin with a physical torture
Followed by carrying a heavy rugged cross
Is the Disciplinary Committee right? Make your gloss
GLOSSES FOR JESUS LOSES RED CARD APPEAL :
Tony Taylor writes, March 28th…2:17
A typical King Herod Decision!
I think the decision needs a
Gary Neville writes, March 28th….2:19
Watching Jésus on the field is immensely enjoyable
This Rock from Nazareth is just unconquerable
Rashford writes, March 28th….3:15
Corrupt official! Corrupt leader
All they care is 30 pieces of silver
Major Buckley writes, March 28th…3:17
HE CAN’T GO AWAY WITH IT!
CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM! I submit
Nana Ama writes, March 28th…..4:17
The decision by ref Pontius Pilate was very harsh
Jésus triumphed! And He did it with great panache
Wolf writes, March 28th….5:15
The blame must lay with Judas and McCoy
Surely it’s their fault not Jésus. Sorry boy!
Omar writes,March 28th….. 6:17
You’re an idiot’s wolf!
This Jesus should go play golf!
Crucify Him sir! Crucify Him! I rest my case
Jonathan Reid writes, March 28th…7:17
I personally think Herod can’t rescind the red card
We talking football politics. He didn't tackle too hard
Leave your gloss in the box below
Running at the right rhythm
no nonsense needing attention;
Doing a dance though the day
ferociously fast It's flying!
Built to be a busy bee,
waking wanting to be working;
Perfectly productive
taking advantage of the time;
Running at the right rhythm
Coveting each click of the clock
Impish Legacy
by Odin Roark
He was like you and me
Arms
Legs
Regrets
Passions
With little that stood out
Save his church-Sunday handshake
His calloused palms
Telling much of
This no-nonsense man
His plaid shirt
Always starting off clean
But wrinkled
Hating to bother anyone
To iron
Wafted oil and soil by midday
The kind sometimes tied
To grease monkey slurs
Labor-ravaged pants
Covered legs of hardlife-stamina
Where given his bumless backside
Help was always needed
But
Snap-of-his-thumbs suspenders
Imprinted proudly with Monroe’s famous
Skirt-blowing pinup
Kept shortcomings intact
Here was an everyday man
With time galloping by
Waiting for no one
He rose at 6
Quick coffee
Out the door
Down the road
8 at the yard
Change this one’s oil
Replace that one’s brakes
Add up the receipts
Take home the earnings
Make another deposit
College won’t be cheap
Leave front door open
Son’s out late
Comfort frail wife
Crawl into bed
Labor’s hand gentle
Jergen’s hand longing
Spooning together
Smiles and pain
Always slow to slumber
So went this life
Until it didn’t
The funeral brought
Many more wafts of oil and grease
Friends of a feather
Still flocking together
With tears and sadness
While upon his face
A subtle smile well known
Belied the crossed hand atop his chest
Some of us knew
He was dreaming
Just one more snap of the suspenders
One last reminder of life
Such became an impish legacy
One who acquired so much
Yet took so little
She’ll always be our family’s valedictorian of sight…
For
She was the no nonsense type of woman who gave all of her love and insight to the world…
That was her gift, her sight and God’s sun that shinned through her… known as the light.
Hattie is our family’s pillar of strength;
Our educator of many lessons learned…
The type…
Who’d go the extra mile, the width, the distance and length; in insuring our family’s security, history, legacy; as well as other lesson’s passed down through the years …and now she leaves us with a scale from one… right down to her last lesson of the tenth.
And As
We come together as a family in the memories of Hattie…
We’ve all come to the conclusions of being blessed in having our own personal relationships with her that was meant to be; and with that in mind…
Her eyes of beauty will always shine through and within us; for all to remember and see.
And now that
She’s looking down upon us proudly… she’s happy to have engraved her individual and personal memories down within your hearts, minds and souls.
For
This is the biggest lesson that she leaves behind; her own personal legacies of personal stories with you to cherish; her own personal touch for which she alone and personally chose.
And now,
The heavens have opened up for Hattie and now she’s received her wings; with the angels rejoicing and singing.
Can’t you all see?
For this is what she envisioned her legacy, vision and happiness of memories with you to be;
A wonderful spirit of the wise
With the glimpse of looking through her eyes, so you can see
Her touch of class that will never die…
And lastly, “THE BEAUTIFUL EYES OF HATTIE”.
Listen up’ here’s the scoop, and honorable day is coming.
It’s a day to celebrate mothers celebrate special woman.
Without mothers this world would be miserable and would be a real shame.
With them on the scene there is no nonsense raising children it’s not a game.
All of “us” who were blessed with a mother.
Know she is the only one and she is special above sisters and brothers.
She has always been there for her children and their problems.
Blessed by God, her job is to teach, heal, pamper as she takes care of her private kingdom.
Special in every way it’s the hardest job in her life and the best job she could have.
Staying home to provide the best schooling in life, teaching them morals and how to behave.
All of “us” who have had loving mothers should be truly thankful.
You know you have only one, and we know were blessed and are truly thankful.
The standing rock of the family she is the one that binds the household together,
She has undeniable love for her children, devotion that lasts forever.
Putting her career on hold putting it aside to be with her children to raise.
She is deserving of all allocates we can give them, thanking her on this day with love and praise.
Jealous, Jealous, Jealous
The swiftness of the Vessa just killed me,
That speed and the grandeur of the seat,
The frame’s shine and the four wheels free,
The maroon leather upholstery neat.
The diagonal pattern on the seat and back,
Which made diamond shapes all over,
Reminded me of Pringles golf wear sack,
That sportsmen buy, their goods designer.
The prestige of owning one was immense,
A Vessa with thin black joystick, gray box,
Orange on/off button for your own sense,
To use wisely to be the batteries’ prox.
That privilege, that air that they all held,
Even made their severe disabilities trivial,
Counted them as people who so gelled,
With normality, the cool and the convivial.
I couldn’t walk at all well, sore feet often,
And in Primary Two asked of my physio,
That she give me in order to cheer, soften,
An electric wheelchair for my portfolio.
I wasn’t asking for a Vessa, not at all,
Just a Bec, ‘cos that could be anyone’s
They were blue, just for indoors, did stall,
And there were some just sat there, tuns.
My feet got sore and I was badly in pain,
Because mum insisted on Clarks shoes,
Old fashioned, hard, so I did complain,
Ås I saw trainers that would fit my toes,
My mum’s strict faith said no to sense,
No to love and yes to abuse, I’d loose,
So I explained to my physio, no nonsense,
That Christianity meant my pain, choose.
My mum thought trainers were worldly,
Demonic, non-Christian, rough and sinful,
But I didn’t know my credibility fully,
And so my physio said no more mouthful.
I knew it would’ve given me a life,
A mouth, a mode that could let me talk,
‘Cos I couldn’t talk and walk, my strife,
Together, simultaneously, talk and walk.
So at school I was always jealous,
Of those with a Vessa who got respect,
From every staff member zealous,
To enhance their freedom prospect.
I got my Vessa at university, shiney,
But I saw it rationally and with thought,
Understood something had blatantly,
Gone wrong, since it I’d only just bought.
But I appreciated my Vessa so much,
At Uni, no-one knew the status or fuss,
That’d been attached to it, not to touch,
At my special school, uh ha, for all of us.
ROTTWEILLER
R eady to serve
O pen to kindness and understanding
T otally dedicated and devoted
T olerating only one true master
W illing to learn
E ver faithful
I mmense heart filled with love
L onging only to be loved as he loves you
L oyal and accepting to the end of his days
E xacting in his duties giving what he thinks is expected from him
R ottweiller - A good dog but not for everyone.
The Rottweiller is probably descended from the Italian Mastiff during the Middle Ages
and was originally used as a herding dog.
It was bred in the German town of Rottweill.
It has a massive, powerful body, powerful scissors type bite and dark brown eyes
with an expression of quiet good will and loyalty.
His personality is nervous around others but tranquil, brave and obedient with his
family. He is easily trained with someone who knows what they're doing and has
great desire to please. If he knows what is expected of him that's exactly what you
will get. HE IS A NO NONSENSE DOG and becomes vicious if he thinks he or his master
is in danger. He will give his life in the protection of his master or his master's property.
He is used as a herd dog, in police work, and as a watch dog and body guard.
Extremely affectionate but NOT the dog for everyone.
He needs a master with common sense, not some idiot who wants to beat him into
submission. NO DOG NEEDS THAT!!
THEY HAVE AN INNATE NATURE TO BE CLOSE TO SOMEONE.
DOGS ARE PACK ANIMALS AND NEED TO BE PART OF A PACK OR FAMILY .
IF NOT THEY SUFFER HORRIBLE MENTAL ANGUISH.
DOGS LOVE COMPLETELY AND NEED THAT LOVE RETURNED.
THEY ARE THE NOBLEST OF SLAVES.
Judy Ball
Women in my family have to fight
Fight to live fight to die
One born premature with challenges
With a heart so pure settling the balances
She was a model name Tiffany
Like her name she was very pretty
Stayed sane despite the insanity
Cancer took her but not her virginity
She was a slave whose name is unknown
In a photo dress is full beige and long
She made a sacrifice for us to achieve
Named her baby my great grandmom Mary.
She was Mary and quite contrary
No nonsense with a hint of fairy
She made wonders from a wood stove
Raising grandchildren as she did so to vote
Her namesake Sister Mary
Would carry on this voting destiny
Fighting in life the man and her man
To make a life with Christ as American
And Wanda Jazmin Gail was soft spoken
Despite her challenging life she kept hope and
Beat cancer beat the odds of black in the south
Covid took her body but her spirit lives proud
And there is me the poetic strange type
I too persevere from many a fight
Fight to raise a black son in a hostile USA
Fight to the rights of Roe vs Wade
Fight to eat when food is so high
Except junk food which is cheap all kinds
Fight to enjoy land that I may never own
Fight of the nights molesting devils roam.
The women in my family would never write this
For they are too strong to need a word such as is
A poetic petition praying for perseverance
The women in my family are of courage and endurance.
7/2/2022
Written for The Women In My Family Poetry Contest
Sponsor Soto Poet