Best Objecting Poems
A political Opinion
(idioms taken from More Texas Sayings)
Composed: by Miracle man
3-26-2020
I believe she’s “so narrow minded
that she could look through a keyhole with both eyes,”
and could “start an argument in an empty house.”
When it comes to objecting, “she’s faster than small town gossip,”
and “so crooked you can’t tell from her tracks if she’s coming or going.”
I’ve always felt it’s better,”to keep your mouth shut and seem a fool,
than to open it and remove all doubt.”
She’s “like a rubber nosed woodpecker in a petrified forest.”
I’ve seen “her eyes stick out like a cowcatcher on a switch engine”
she “looks like death warmed over.”
because “she’s been around since water was wet,”
But,”she can strut sitting down,”
and believes that, “if she crows the sun comes up.”
Most politicians are like hogs, “they can’t pass a mud hole,”
and when they get their way, “they’re as happy as a hog in mud,”
but compromise “is like putting socks on a rooster,”
and “a hit dog always howls”
Tom
some days I'm neither decisive nor constant still in mid step advancing parallel combining
due stress pre-tense in depth, feign fair, fair is not love nor hate,objecting
lines turning war torn due reputations proceeding by stride and sweat pourn ,
but the clocks harder at self gaining advantage and foolish lost to
insincerity, caused by quotes barley examples of thought misunderstood .
Tina-Louise dashed into a tattoo parlor
And asked for some ink in the shape of a flower.
Much below the knees so my mom doesn’t holler;
Would you hurry-up please, I’ve only one hour.
Seeing as that flower was never discovered,
Tina-Louise went back in for another.
And this time she preferred it higher to cover
A birth mark she wanted to hide from a lover
Since it turned winter, others were oblivious,
So each new tattoo became insidious.
As her pants concealed the vividly obvious,
This fact let Tina to be more devious.
Then before spring, Tina-Louise met a good man
Who was employed at emptying garbage cans.
In no time she had a diamond ring on her hands,
And a tattoo of “Stu” high up on her gams.
Tina-Louise’s belly started projecting
Because of the baby she was expecting.
And it mattered not that her Stu was objecting
To the art of ink that she wasn’t neglecting.
Even Tina-Louise’s gynecologist
Chattered on like a wannabe psychologist.
Saying stop with the inking, you need to desist,
And carried on like a show off apologist.
Well, TL’s final tattoo went high on her neck
Of some odd creature from the series, Star Trek.
And poor Stu could barely keep his temper in check
With that mouthful of Clingon he got with a peck.
Tina-Louise’s water finally did break
During delivery, Doc said for goodness sake.
It’s bizarre days like today that take the cake,
For there’s a glitch with your baby that’s a mistake.
The parents were concerned; well wouldn’t you be too?
They thought maybe their baby came out cold blue.
Nope, the shaken Doc said, this is completely new;
Your sweet little baby has a rose bud tattoo!
With one look, Stu fainted onto the sterile floor,
Since this wasn’t the newborn he bargained for.
Then Tina-Louise gave out one last birthing roar
That started and finished with curses galore.
Afterword Tina-Louise sat alone and bawled
Lamenting the curse to her new baby doll.
Why didn’t I listen to my mom at all?
And to all the others who made the right call?
TL and Stu’s baby now has beautiful skin
Thanks to the marvels of modern medicine.
Though Tina-Louise never performed a real sin;
She wished all her tattoos stayed below her shin.
For Juli- Michelle's Rhyme Battle contest 9/29/13
I feel at liberty having you here,
Sitting unassumingly,
In the corner of my lounge.
Free to cavort naked as my mother bore me,
While you remain firm and sure,
Spurning your chances to,
Remark upon my togs.
Your bare coat at no time results,
In you objecting, should I open a window or two?
You never shudder or tremble.
Sometimes I hear you brush,
Tacitly, against my restful sage lounge walls.
Never do you interrupt as I prattle,
On and on and on and on,
About frivolous issues.
I furnish you with drink,
As you, tender the finishing touches to my parlour.
Moses and his sweet Molly Mouse
have a puzzling dilemma.
They have used all the names they know
from Marvalee to Maryemma.
They have followed all mouse name rules.
Each must begin with letter em.
After their hundreds of babies,
they have no more new names for them.
They can’t use Micky or Minnie,
for they know the unwritten rule.
Using gods or goddesses names
will make any mouse look a fool.
When Sally Squirrel comes to call,
the new mouse family to view,
they speak of their giant problem
and ask Sally, “What shall we do?”.
Sally swiftly offers to help,
but the fine ess names that she knows,
are rejected by the mouse pair,
“We surely can’t use one of those.”
Opie Oppossum arrives to ogle
and bring names with an oh or pee.
Moses objecting once again,
“They must start with an em, you see.”
Then Molly whispers to Moses.
“I will question Miss Mynah Bird.
Mynah is sure to remember
every em word she’s ever heard.”
Miss Mynah is very happy
to respond to their fervent plea.
She has a name for every child
they will live long enough to see.
There‘s Myra and Moira and Meg,
for the girl mice now in the nest..
Maurie and Mervin and Maleg,
are boy names passing the test.
The mouse pastor baptizes them
and as he pronounces each name,
Moses and Molly glow with pride.
Miss Mynah has saved them from shame.
Personification Moses and Molly Mouse, Sally Squirrel, Opie Oppossum, Mouse pastor
Miss Mynah Bird
When your breath you are not feeling
and your heartbeats you stopped hearing
When who are around you, you are not seeing
and your very missed world started objecting
When you feel lost as you lose the sense of belonging
and you wonder if your compass you are following
When what you are feeding on, far from the soul fulfilling
and you remain the subject and the object of your seeking
When you feel a pain of no trace, the Self ravaging
and you keep for a magical elixir looking
When the touch of a dried inflamed pen burning
and you can grasp the nature of your suffering
When alluring wonders in silence you keep admiring
and the words within you are still and hiding
When you muse and long for verse reciting
and the Muse of poetry, your soul invoking
When to all the missing links I am yielding
as every ounce of me aching for poetry, my life sustaining.
August 5th, 2020
Human life deserves a platform to unfold
Away from straitjackets of pious scrutiny
Whose eyes, ears and hands feel so cold
They reject freedom and project a mutiny
Born from the scorn society pours on freedom
Curtailing every progressive move towards expanding
Frontiers of free thought, thought outside the stricture kingdom
Where dissenters earn the label of antisocial branding
Perceived by untested notions whose dubious value
Lies in objecting to new ideas, new approaches
To matters where life suffers because critics with no clue
Claim innovations and expansions in thinking circulate cockroaches
In citadels that preserve culture and tradition
To limit the extent to which inhabitants expand the scope
Life ought to enjoy without any undue restriction
Imposed by custodians of traditions whose pope
Preaches limitations on abortion and exploration of modernization
In the wake of disruptive technologies
That spawn conundrums in which efforts of socialization
In traditional societies and African mythologies
Die a natural death
When social media facilitate new ways of communicating and connecting
Whose wealth and health
Diminish and extinguish mores, norms and customs, projecting
Arguments whose cogent basis tenuous at best
Can’t stand reliability and validity
Scrutiny and which traditionalists attest
Matter to defend the utility and solidity
Archaic notions offer to society’s progress
In which the worth and splendor of life
Matters more than efforts to suppress
Moves to eradicate and eliminate wife
Battery and slavery in the context of gender based violence
Rife in African townships and homesteads
Where traditionalists promote the importance
Domestic violence plays in subjugating stubborn heads.
Like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince to come some day
I've waited half a century to feel the things you say
I've heard the words before and always thought I understood
But never have I felt their touch, nor even knew I could
How would I have ever known that I'd spent all this time
Clutched tightly to my reasons with no credence to their rhyme
Searching for someone to share my life because I should
Wide awake yet half asleep and good enough with good
Then you came into my life like snow so gently falling
I heard a voice inside myself from deep within, a calling
Something's different in the way your words befall my ears
I realized my heart has missed their touch throughout the years
When you say "I love you" there's a sparkle in your eyes
Every time I see it, it still takes me by surprise
A twitch among my dormancy, feelings long in wait
Sensations might I'd never known without your hands of fate.
Unknown to me, this happiness of being what I am
A woman filled with heart and soul, in want and need of man
A want to please, reciprocate, objecting his desire
Needing this new warmth I feel each time we stoke the fire
Like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince to come some day
How grateful I will always be that you had come my way.
This beautiful sleeping side of life I could have easily missed
Without loves touch inside my heart, awakened when we kissed.
-Jeannie Minor
Within that rule of thumb
that I am vanquished, yet among
majorities ~ the role's succumb
I cast it not ~ the vote's benumb?
Acceptance core ~ I take the floor
objecting, by what's evermore
the scoundrel's choice, is his rapport
so in my station ~ file encore!
Admonishing by gains restore
the underdog of faith's implore
is greed ~ and tools its own abhor
creating havoc ~ to have more!
The time be right ~ the writer's chore
in all directions ~ leverage store
the composition of truth's score
is now's own lesson ~ reaching for!
Composure ~ let us write and pour
out our aggressions ~ published o'er!
This is it, I want to say.
An acid rain falling each evening
and you, reading a poem
surrounded by flame – attendants.
Nothing moves farther than activism.
Conversation centers around the flares
on the surface of an orange sun,
a big hole coming up in the ozone layer.
You are an ocean, needs penetration
of inquiry. Running a relay race in
a big cage to keep the torch
burning. Clouds in the sky
objecting to full moon, coming up,
nonchalantly. Landscape rips – off
the ideas from the thorn
in the heart.
SATISH VERMA
Someone over 200 pounds, start at the lowest setting
On an Elliptical Trainer can burn 400 calories, that's bed wetting!
Says the brochure
Gonna buy one for sure
Soon be a trim senior if my ticker doesn't start objecting
Silence of space
broken by a ships' roar
across the expanse
to dock at the stations' shore
while the unidentified flying
hover nearby in their quiet craft
objecting, "They can not come here!"
Not to our corner of Milky ... no!
no earthlings must stray
for they come only to prey!
We must keep the universe pristine
and these humans never trust
with their predaceous lust
for our bauxite, uranite,
calcite, pyrite ... right! right!
"Not in my back yard!" cried
the saucer-eyed leader.
Let them stay on their blue sphere!
Get this ark in gear ...
its time once again
to let them know we're here
in the neighborhood!
Body exhausted from a day of work.
Aches, pains, soreness seeping from every inch of my being.
Mind is tired, weary, words fighting to come out.
Difficulty moving pen across paper.
So much to be said but no energy to allow the healing outpour to occur.
Eyes so heavy, a burden to keep them open, to keep them alert.
Restful sleep calling out to me, but I refuse to answer it's call.
Refusing it as if a lover begging for forgiveness.
My heart of hearts objecting the undeniable reality that it is time to close down
shop.
Recognizing my true mission to flow, to let go, to release all pent up within me.
Trying very hard to put up a good fight, to battle on.
The day drags into night, as I drag myself to bed.
Not totally admitting defeat, not relinquishing completely.
Just going to rest my eyes, lay my head down.
Plan in my mind to use the dawn to refresh me,
energize me,
until the next day befalls me renewed.
Call it as it is!
Not mistaken.
Not uninformed –
They just don't care!
Death in record numbers
at our Southern Border;
Death in the streets
of large cities from
Fentanyl...They just
don't care! Mask-less
getting her hair done;
at the seaside with
his obedient dog, steak
for him and Kibbles
for the population. She
parties in Florida,
while the streets of New
York are rapidly becoming
an uninhabitable sewer –
Even pigeons, rats and
roaches objecting to
piles of feces on sidewalks,
along curbs, obstructing
their normal foraging, healthier
diets of tossed pizza, bagels
and imported lox – They just don't
care! Using God and religion
as a prop, to control the naive
masses, while they get richer,
sitting ever higher on their
imagined Royal Asses. Already
card-caring Mammon's. They
just don't care! Obsessed
with Pursuit-of-power –
badly in need of a soul-cleansing
shower – the Devil Delighted,
fiery-plans for each selfish-hide --
advance reservations on a
Subterranean Ride –
Someone over 200 pounds, for 30 minutes at the lowest setting
On an Elliptical Trainer can burn 400+ calories, that's bed wetting!
Says the brochure
Gonna buy one for sure
Soon be a slim trim senior, if my ticker doesn't start objecting