Best No Takers Poems


December Sun .

December sun that hangs so low
To crawl across dim Winter cloud .
You were our friend six months ago
And wrapped me in your Summer shroud
Of coloured gardens , full of bloom 
That scented life
In my living room .

The long cold shadows that you cast ,
Like the frosted breaths of early morn 
That linger ..., yet , but never last ,
Like some dark and dreary love forlorn .
Memories of your crisp, clear cold
Long Winters past
Wrapped , but still unsold .

December sun of blinding light
No takers for your offer , here .
Your short day and your long cold night
The dying throes of one more year .
Your only pal , the Winter snow
Is children's friend
And farmer's foe .
© Sean Kelly  Create an image from this poem.

Freedom Before Religion

I declare today 
That my body is my body.
No government entity, private citizen, 
Or business public or private
Has any rights 
Or permission to use, 
Abuse, 
Regulate,
Deregulate,
Confiscate 
Obliterate,
My body.
Law makers and religious shakers
I petition no takers.
My appendages are mine
I choose their destiny
I choose their function
Their purpose 
I choose. 
I enter no contract 
I obay no edict 
My flesh is mine
I enter in consensual unions
Without compromise 
Without permission 
From the state 
From the clergy 
From any finger pointer or tongue wager.
I declare today 
From a starting point of now
Until my end
That my body is my body 
I will defend my flesh 
My growth 
My every carbon 
From those who wish to dominate 
Regulate 
Seek to enlist the state 
I am not a part of any collective thought 
Nor am I unionized by fear
That wilfully drives to steer
Anything that can be bought 
By sanction, or divinity, or code.
I declare today, all days
That my body is not yours 
No one shall limit 
My abuse or use or purpose 
I will not obey 
I so declare today.

Premium Member Hotel

Hotel...  in the Song

I listen to the radio, 
it is turned way down low, 
but it is all that I care to hear, anymore. 

The TV in the other room, 
is going all the time, 
but that is just fine. 

Father comes home late, 
from nowhere he works at all. 
Mother stays home staring at the walls. 

I go to school, until I do not. 
Then I am grown without... 
a place to be, you see. 

Now, we live in one room, 
my parents and myself. 
Sometimes I get to sleep on a bed, 
and sometimes the floor. 
It is better than the door, 
and the unknown outside. 

We had a real home once, 
but it is gone for now, 
I doubt I will ever see it come back. 
Instead, we pay each night, 
or once each week, 
to be allowed a place
among the many. 

There is no privacy, 
and everyone is starving. 
No one has any money at all. 
There is no reason to go, anywhere... 
but the stair, to stare at the lost people, 
as they set up camp in the parking lot
across the road. 

A preacher man he comes by twice, 
once to give a note, and then to give his coat. 
There were no takers for his words. 
They would rather eat the continental breakfast, 
provided by the establishment. 
Broken people living in a rut.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.


A Quick Feel

I’ve set up a mammogram service
On a stall outside the bakers
Been sitting ‘ere for hours
But I aint not ‘ad no takers
I can’t understand their reluctance
‘cause, it only takes a minute
To put my hand inside their bra
To check what they keep in it 
Now this simple operation
Could put their minds to rest
If only they would let me ‘ave
A quick feel of their breast
© John Fenn  Create an image from this poem.

Heaven's Above That Mountain

Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS L.H. ANDRESS


GODS---ABOVE---THE---MOUN/TAIN...!
THERE---WERE---GODS/ABOVE---THE/MOUN/TAIN!
GODS---ABOVE---THE---MOUN/TAIN...!
THERE---WERE---GODS/ABOVE---THE/MOUN/TAIN!

HEA---VEN'S---ONLY---ABOVE/THAT-MOUN/TAIN!
HEA---VEN'S---ONLY---ABOVE/THAT-MOUN/TAIN!
THERE---WERE---GODS/ABOVE---THE/MOUN/TAIN!

WHEN---YOU/'R---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!
THAT'S---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!

AN---HELPLESS/LESS---YOU'RE---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!
YOU'RE---HELPLESS/LESS---YOU'RE---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!

IT'S---A/SONG---SO/SWEET---'N/TART!
A/SONG---TART---'N/SWEET!

HELPLESS---UPON/THAT/MOUN---TAIN!
WHEN---YOU'RE/HELPLESS---UPON/THAT---MOUNTAIN!

ZEUS---AIN'T/GOT---NO/TAKERS---BUT/LAKES---WELL?!?!
WHEN---YOU'RE/HELPLESS---UPON/THAT---MOUN/TAIN!

IT---MIGHT/BE---FOUR/TEEN---HUNDRED/YEARS---LATER!
SOME/TIME---IN/17---SEVENTY---SIX!

ZEUS---HE/WAS---A/CRY'N!
ZEUS---HE/WAS---A/CRY'N!

BOLT'N---LIGHTNING---HE/NEEDED---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!
BRACKETS---'N/BRACES---'N/BOLTS---OF/ROLLIN/THUN---DER!

HE---WAS/'NOTHER---WONDER!
ZEUS---HE/MADE---'NOTHER---WONDER!

WONDEROUS---AT/THE---BOARDS!
HE---WAS---WONDEROUS---AT/THE---BOARDS!

JUMPING---AN/LEAPING---HE---WAS/A---GOD!
JUMPING---AN/LEAPING---HE---WAS/A---GOD!

FACING---HE/HAD---A/SWEET---SWEET/FACE!
FACING---HE/HAD---A/FACE---TOO/SWEET!

GODS---ABOUT/THAT/MOUN---TAIN!
GODS---ABOVE/THAT/MOUN---TAIN!

IT'S---A/TALE---LIKE/THAT---SILLY/'OL
ROCK!
THAT---SILLY/'OL---ROCK!
SYSSI---PHUS---AN/HIS---BOUNCING/ROCK!

IT'S---A/TALE---LIKE/THAT---SILLY/'OL
ROCK!
THAT---SILLY/'OL---ROCK!
SYSSI---PHUS---AN/HIS---BOUNCING/ROCK!

HE---WAS/ROLLIN/THUN---DER!
HE---WAS/ROLLIN/THUN---DER!

AN---THE/STARS---RE---MEMBERED---TWENTY-FIVE-OR-SIX/TO-FOUR!
'CUZ---HE---WAS/MORE/THAN---SOME/SILLY'OL/NUM---BER!
AN---THE/STARS---RE---MEMBERED---TWENTY-FIVE-OR-SIX-TO-FOUR!
'CUZ---HE---WAS/MORE/THAN---SOME/SILLY'OL/NUM---BER!

HE---WAS/A---GOD!
HE---WAS/A---GOD!

THERE---WERE/GIANTS---IN/THE/LAND!
THERE---WERE/GIANTS---IN/THE/LAND!
© Thomas Hsi  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Jigsaw Puzzles 3

Bus stop sensations
Where's the bus?
Tardy connection

~~~~~~~~~


Old contact hearsay
Not much to say;
Silent confrontation

~~~~~~~~~


Frangipani sunrise
Pink, yellow, white --
Magical moments

~~~~~~~~~


Smoky stray wind
Grim echoes;
Stale air descends

~~~~~~~~~


Shoppes in decline
Ancient wares loiter;
No takers

~~~~~~~~~


Evening settles
Noisy commotions fade;
Mahjong excavations!

~~~~~~~~~


By this old quay
Modern face lifts greet;
New watering hole

~~~~~~~~~


New dreams stacked
On old faded sites;
Cool revolution

~~~~~~~~~


Play school toddlers
Exchange play things;
Rude awakenings

~~~~~~~~~




Leon Enriquez
17 October 2014
Singapore


Lazy Day

The water was
dark and brown,
two turtles rested on a nearby log
soaking in the sun.

A large grey heron swooped lazily down
landing effortlessly
while looking around for a tasty morsel treat.

Overhead a squawking jay served as sentinel
to warn of my intrusion into its domain.

All I wanted was to sit and dip a line 
into the cool brown pool.

Perhaps an unsuspecting fish would seek
the dangling worm on the end of my line.

Even if there were no takers
I wouldn't mind.

It just was a chance to visit
the calm and quiet of that dark and cool 
pool as it just drifted by.

Thoughts of nothingness clouded an 
otherwise empty mind.

It was just a lazy day,
warm and friendly sitting by that
dark and brown pool 
with a drifting line.

Cares drifted away
like the white fluffy clouds high above.

So why spoil a beautiful day.

Requiem For the Mannequin: Mannequin Series 6

You love skin
that cannot feel
a mannequin
she isn't real.
She ripped herself open
to find what was beneath her
maybe a heart she was hopin’
but, she is a plastic little girl
she'll never feel
her skin's plastic
she doesn't heal,
even if it’s drastic.
She cut skin away for you
maybe then love would mean something more
but you left her in the shades of blue
was she nothing but your little whore?
She is a mannequin
lost in the reflection
used for her skin
of twisted perfection.
She peeled back all the layers
to find raw red creed
to find she had no takers;
never knew she could bleed.
Don't let her forget
you don't love this mannequin
make her a regret
just wanted her for skin.

The Farmers of India

The fields lie barren
The cultivated produce
Lay in vain
Our families are in pain
With pangs of hunger
In their veins
Tied to our debts
No takers for us
In markets
there is scarcity
In our houses,
There is poverty
Some fast for glory
Some fast for a cause
Some fast for their
Near and dear
We do not fast
Yet we suffer
Our stomachs are empty
No one to bother
You may call us cowards
We do not mind
We will end our lives
Can’t live without self-pride
Do not ever desire
To be born again
As a farmer
We can’t live the pain

Down To Georgia

Down to Georgia my sister and I went,
                                          We heard the weather was heaven sent;
                                          bought a ranch house on three acres,
                                          was in foreclosure, but had no takers;
                                          For two years we worked very hard,
                                          fixing the driveway and the large yard;
                                          cut the pine trees, they kill all my grass,
                                          put up a tower with a big bell of brass;
                                          put up a greenhouse to grow my plants,
                                          poisoned the yard to kill the fire ants;
                                          then one day my sister became ill,
                                          the doctor said, better draw up a will;
                                          for three weeks, she just stayed in bed,
                                          then one gloomy day she was dead;
                                          now a Connecticut yankee stuck alone,
                                          looking for a good women to bring home.

Frog Kissing Booth

The animals on the 
farm are having
their annual county
fair.

Frogs from the pond
have agreed to
set up a kissing booth,

so far no takers,
except other frogs,
but for 50 cents,

it's a good deal, all
the proceeds go to
homeless farmers,

so come on down,
kiss a frog, hey
it's for a good cause.

wrote 8-8-08

Alone

Do not go too far unnecessarily
So to unable to be followed by others
There you do not go where you are only one
Lonely and alone
Do not walk the road even a step on which
You don’t get any companion
As you know even to do things wrong
Persons are needed at least two
One is for doing the act
And the other for being acted upon

You may go where you desire
And speak words as your wishes are
But if there are no takers out of greed or fear
Then it will be taken for sure
Your endeavor is a waste and you are a failure
No matter  how you there do round
Jump high or dive deep
And like a bubble go for a blast
No one will be there even to listen the sound.

Premium Member I'D Rather Pick Flowers

If I weren't afraid, I'd pluck some dainty flowers
Be unashamed of mostly women at showers,
Stand with you dressed in choir robes and singing hymnals,
Be sweet like a kitty not roar like animals
Hold infant with both hands, and not catch a fly ball,
Be very nice and kind with my mother-in-law,
Chewing gum and smiling, not crunching jawbreakers,
Great in mid-life with no crisis, and no takers.


2019 September 10
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Making Mask, Instead

On the flower petals of the blooming faces,
flutter the patina of chromatic luscious lips,
gracefully painted with alluring shades of lipstick,
the attraction amplified by the dazzling smile. 

In the women’s winsome world of enticement
many things stay tediously the same unalterable,
but the colors of the lips is an option of change,
they all strive to try in various charming hues.

Realizing it’s a large fashion market worldwide,
I set up a modest factory rolling out array of lipsticks,
not competing with the products of L’Oreal or the like,
my business started booming, soaring to new heights.

But then comes the virulent corona virus from the blue,
making lipsticks for the masked lips rather redundant. 
No takers, I have to close down my factory where now
I am making mask to survive in these difficult times.


May 16, 2020

Premium Member Berry Picking

The old man arrived a gleam in his eyes;
He announced with aplomb “berries are in”
The buckets are clean, the weather is fine;
Who wants to go berry picking with me?

No! No takers save one, I had the time.
So off we did go, to the berry patch.
My grandfather knew all the best places to pick.
Berry picking meant story time for me.

We picked berries alright, but the real delight,
Were tales he would tell of when he was young.
My imagination would soar to great heights;
Time stood still, as pails seemed to fill themselves.

Alas, time marches on; the old man is gone;
Gone are the stories, the pails lay in wait;
I still ask the question, no takers I get.
Sadly there are no berry pickers but me.

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