Best Objections Poems
A garden presents a most beautiful sight
When seen from afar in a much broader light,
For there in a setting with all that surrounds,
Its total of beauty and color abounds.
To observe much too closely, study and dwell,
Inspect every flower and leaf very well,
Will quickly cancel the powerful presence
Of unified form with divergent essence.
Then we are bound to observe those objections—
The scattered, meaningless small imperfections
Of petals and blossoms and leaves not so fair;
Lose sight of the wonderful whole that they share.
We can also apply this to those we love,
And sometimes must separate, step back enough,
To view the grand total of gifts which combine
To create an image of balanced design,
And appreciate well those colors which are
A bit subtle up close but strong from afar.
So trite imperfections get lost in the ray
Of the aura of wholeness seen from away.
And so like the grand garden’s totality,
When we stand back to thoroughly look and see,
We will vision with awe a marvelous view…
Total beauty and depth now perceived anew.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Hidden Beauty
Sponsor: Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Judged: 02/04/2015
Quote: Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Every particular in nature, a leaf, a drop,
a crystal, a moment of time is related to the whole,
and partakes of the perfection of the whole.”
Ron Dump says he’ll destroy North Korea
With finger poised, we have so much to fear
He’s a power mad glutton
With his hand on the button
Will the universe still exist next year?
BY JAN ALLISON
I just hope his finger gets stuck
Where his bum cheeks do tuck
I don't live in fear
Long as they're up there
oh Don why are you such a schmuck
BY TIM SMITH
He couldn't have made it clearer
His objections to North Korea
Did his blow up doll fail
At the point of his exhale
Revenge is a good butt cleaner
BY SEREN ROBERTS
Ron's trigger finger is too quick to attack
Mouth gets him in trouble for talking smack
A rocket up his butt
Another to his gut
Should put an end to Ron Dump, the quack
BY LIN LANE
In the genre of equal time
May I present my 2 cents and a dime
Rocket Man's been coddled
By Barack Obama's Bobble
Now Trump is gonna get him back in line!!!
BY CHUCK MELUGIN
To the moon ‘North Korea’ the Rocket Man says
I can press this button because I’m the Pres
But his hands are much too small
Can he do it at all?
A comedic tragedy like Lucy and Desi Arnaz.
BY WINGED WARRIOR
Supreme dictator mad Kim Jong un
shows off his massive hydrogen gun
Donald trump wants to play
time for us all to pray
Irreversible act when they're done.
BY ROY PETTS
PLEASE SOUP MAIL ME YOUR POEM IF YOU WANT IT TO BE ADDED
09-19-17
The storms were strong with the wind fierce and the waves high
Always trying to stay afloat, to not drown and try to learn to fly
Survival became a way of life, to make it through opposing current
While I spoke the truth, they lashed at me, twisting what I meant
It was cold, so cold, many times in the middle of the dark night
When everything good, seemed to be completely out of sight
Then one day when the sun did rise, he suddenly came along
I could hear the rhythm of a soothing, comforting, distant song
The waters calmed like a mirror of glass, I could see reflections
It had been so long and I didn’t have the usual objections
It was different as the scenery slowly evolved and changed
As I adapted to new things and my thoughts were rearranged
Although without wings, I was flying, but no longer alone
Across the sphere of clear skies, where the wind had blown
Heidi Sands
9/28/17
She is the super girl of poetry soup a cute
who through her limericks renders us mute
How can I resist a giggle when she writes
or helps me to sully my new tights
She is a lovely presence and I wish her well
if anyone here objections it won't jell
We are a site of beauty not one of snooty
so shake out your pom pom, give a hooty
Its Christmas a time for love words of essence
Jan, I'm glad your here and that you got presence
Lets give the girl a cheer today write a limerick
for her that is funny one with kick,
"FANCY SCHMANCY"
One day I met a fancy schmancy girl named Jan
and when it came to the funnies, oh how she ran
like an underwear on fire
yes, she's the girl for hire
if you want poop in your underwear then read
her crunchy lines, she leaves a laughter seed
for all....
xoxoxoxxo
Dec 10, 2018
**“Those that respect the law and love sausage should watch neither being made.” –
American Humorist/Author Mark Twain (real name Samuel Clemens)
Prestigious lawmaking bodies are comprised of solons*
Some find it hard to refrain from comparing them to cons
Few legislators know the ramifications of bills
And the way they’re rushed to passage can give the public chills
We don’t know what’s in bills or how they strip away our rights
And if we ask our lawmakers, they provide few insights
Piles of amendments are thrust hastily in political machines
Objections are made; no one successfully intervenes
“What’s that?” we ask later when we realize what has been done
(In Kennesaw, Georgia, all citizens MUST purchase guns)
Try to blend the conservative and liberal viewpoints
You’ll find the machine sputters with fat spewing from its joints
It’s like taking hunks of pork and grinding them into links
The process is messy and the outcome usually stinks
No matter! We are supposed to smile and just eat it up
Then we wash it all down with a sip from the lager cup
Pork barrel projects like Alaska’s “Bridge to Nowhere” confound
As on nebulous values of bills lawmakers expound
So beware if for common sense in these bills you forage
And remember old Mark Twain’s analogy to sausage
*Solons are members of any legislative or lawmaking body.
If I go to the library each day
and seek out the knowledge there on display,
reading all the newspapers, come what may;
and listen to what others have to say?
Then, will I be wise?
If I let the children teach me their way,
drop my inhibitions, and learn to play,
asking old folks before they slip away;
their secrets, to keeping doldrums at bay?
Then, will I be wise?
If I study nature's wondrous array,
questioning space and the stars as they lay;
or unearth ancient pottery of clay
revealing treasures of buried Pompeii?
Then, will I be wise?
If I demystify ancient Cathay,
deciphering riddles of yesterday;
and evoke all the prophets when I pray,
absorbing all that their teachings relay?
Then, will I be wise?
If I condemn all wars, strife, and melee,
voicing my objections without delay,
while upholding truths I'll never betray;
and find the courage to walk from the fray?
Then, will I be wise?
Gustav Klimt adored for his murals and paintings
Turned life in poverty into art of awesome glory
Pioneering erotic paintings depicting female body
Moving boldly to shape pages of his artistic story.
Honored for murals painted in famous public places
Klimt became renowned at relatively young age,
Soon changing course of his creative endeavors
Crossing boundaries of norm to launch a new phase.
Paintings like Philosophy, Medicine, Jurisprudence
Quickly became symbolic of his early innovation,
Yet, he was shunned due to misplaced objections,
His trio was later destroyed by ignorant generation.
Moving boldly to declare freedom of expression
Painting Nuda Veritas to foretell his intentions
Achieving critical acclaim using gold in his portraits,
The Kiss raised his profile to yet higher dimension.
Exotic naked women became hallmark of his art,
Depicting Girlfriends in colors of nude confluence,
Drawing Adele Bloch-Bauer I as an elegant woman
Wrapped in a golden gown of rich Asian influence.
So many paintings became renowned masterpieces
As Death and Life won first prize in world exhibition
And Adele Bloch-Bauer sold for huge remuneration
Rejoicing art lovers who seek to own his creations.
The Apple Tree I, Birch Forest, Litzlberg am Attersee,
Adorned with nature, joining ranks of so many more,
Upon Klimt's death became tremendously valuable
As admirers of his art continue to cherish and adore.
November 28, 2017
Klimt
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Listen here, buddy,
I'm in control.
If you don't like it,
Then go for a stroll.
There is more than one exit,
And I can give you directions.
I don't care what you think,
I don't need your objections.
I can get to be a b---h,
In two seconds flat.
I can also be a sweetheart,
There's no question of that.
But here's the bottom line,
It always goes my way.
Do what you like,
Just do as I say.
Written for bartenders everywhere. From a bartender whose seen quite a lot. So
please give your respect to your local bartender. Especially when she only one
working, and she's bouncing a fight by herself.
I can’t resist a To-Do list.
In fact, I’m an enthusiast
For pads and pencils must exist
So chores are taken care of.
Such itemizing does assist
Me in my day or I’d have missed
Important tasks which might consist
Of deadlines to beware of.
Though some objections may persist,
To me, they’re easily dismissed.
Without my list, my mind would twist
In ways I would despair of.
Can I picture being on a plane
Or in a car that’s rented?
Eating indoors in a restaurant,
My fears all circumvented?
Can I see myself discovering
My flight’s been scratched from going,
Just pacing in the airport lounge,
My panic up and growing?
I am stuck inside a Covid box
Despite my three injections,
Yet when I think of breaking out,
I face the same objections.
Perhaps I’ll never reach the point
Of feeling safe and stronger,
But ‘til that day arrives, I will
Stay put a little longer.
Canvas,
Soft brush strokes touch your lips
every word a colour
caressing those little bits
creating a soul
a whole
a panpsychism
free conscious
no objections
I the bristles bending with the curves
biting down at the turn
of the page
bookmarked the darkness bleeds
and I surface for another read
red looked up at green
back to blue
a sky of a different hue
a fresh river view
eyes stay the course
the cart driven by the horse
the breeze hardens the hairs
you soak them in your warmth
we return
always we return
to gaze at the moon
or is it the sun
perception
all a matter of trust
thrust in the throes
where lust is the precursor
to love
painted
outside the lines
My tranquil world is trembling
with sublimated anticipation,
I’m losing my footing of romantic resistance
Body shaking is convulsive proof:
equilibrium quaking; off balance, I deduce
Mind trapped in love —
can’t wiggle out ... can’t squirm loose
My feeble objections
are falling through the roof
Wave after wave
moves swiftly beneath my heartbeat
I’m tumbling head over heels,
landing silver rush hard at your feet
And your avalanche of kisses
are beginning to smother me
Only your searchlight of desire
can maiden eyes see
how far I fell ...
As waves of your love
has buried me deep
Wave upon wave,
an earthquake beneath my heartbeat
Save me with a yes,
baby come vow rescue me
This poem was inspired by a poem
penned by the talented poetess, Alexis Y.
Her beautiful poem is titled: "The Pledge"
WHO IS JACK SCHITT?
The lineage is finally revealed.
Many people are at a loss for a response when someone says,
"You don't know Jack Schitt."
Now you can intellectually handle the situation.
Jack is the only son of Awe Schitt and O. Schitt.
Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate married O. Schitt, the owner of Needeep N. Schitt Inc. They had one son, Jack.
In turn Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt and the deeply religious couple had 6 children: Holie Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Giva Schitt, Bull Schitt and the twins, Deap Schitt and Dip Schitt.
Against her parents objections, Deap Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school drop out.
After 15yrs. of marriage, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced.
Noe Schitt later remarried Ted Sherlock and because her kids were living with them she wanted to keep her previous name. She was then known as Noe Schitt-Sherlock.
Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt and they produced a son of nervous disposition, Chicken Schitt.
Two other of the 6 children, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt who were inseparable throughout childhood subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony. The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens wedding. The Schitt-Happens children were: Dawg, Byrd and Hoarse. Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world and recently returned home from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.
So now when someone says, "You don't know Jack Schitt." , you can correct them because you most certainly do.
FAMILY HISTORY RECORDED BY CROCK O. SCHITT INC.
There sat in opulent xanadu, the
demagogue of empirical hedonism,
his granary once fuelled regal reign of epicureanism:
gregarious, restive, much-awaited successor of imperial dominion,
neurotic, obstinate, was the cynosure of cynicism.
The eldest child of Duke and Dutchess of York, erstwhile Prince of Wales,
the proclaimed young heir, stood far from the course of sceptical euphemism;
The heir apparent had a historical encounter with Wallis Warfield Simpson by fatalism,
by wooing Wallis, the royal blood encountered, clangorous cynical criticism.
The resultant mayhem broke, the blue- blood became the bottleneck of idealism;
sagacious, was brooding strategies to be the prototype of unprecedented heroism.
The proclaimed marriage faced vehement oppositions:
encompassing : religious, political, legal and moral objections.
The outright denial to accept Wallis as the king's consort, broke the anticipated rebellion,
Edward's refusal to give her up, led to his final abdication.
When was quite apparent, he could not marry his beloved Simpson,
finally settled to rebuke the throne from etched imperialism as emancipation.
The man of the hour was then entitled "the Duke of Windsor", a transformation stunned the world and wrote an unprecedented statement in chronicle after abdication.
Edward VIII, once epitome of monarchism, became an ideal icon of asceticism.
A sybarite, turned commoner by deserting the successive chair of the british kingdom to wed his ladylove;
a tale of unprecedented impeccable loyalism.
The abdicator's epitaph on Royal Burial Ground, Frogmore,
is still bearing in indelible transcription,
the testimony of an uncustomary love saga of renunciation.
An epoch making transformation, decades have ever witnessed from iconic monarchism to transcendental loyalism:
through unprecedented renouncement
of the bequeathed throne
to array chronicle's unrivalled iconoclasm.
All Rights Reserved © SILPIKA KALITA
Clinging to sunny Bognors regal
skirts
At his Majesties most royal verges
The readied hand thrusts upon the
lever,
And, shuddering, She forward lurches.
Clanking ominously over diesel fueled
growls,
Expediency, they said, was driven
to ignore:
The raised up objections and anguished
frowns,
And track them under tracked-over
ground.
For by unanimous vote they did smugly
decide,
Albeit tales of backhanders hotly denied,
That poor clymping Parish could no longer
abide
The daily through fare of the popular ride.
So when you next travel upon the new
Bypass
Think of the local residents you no longer
harass;
Dwell on the advantages you formerly
decried,
Whilst ripping through the greenbelt
to the jolly seaside.
Think of their tearooms, and the little
stone bridge,
Think of the old fort just beyond the sharp
ridge;
Think of their gift shops decked out with
festoons,
With bright little trinkets, plates and silver
spoons.
For over and beyond the ancient on-looking
hills
Creeps an old warming wind that carefully
steals:
To gently gather up the wretched mechanical
sounds -
And bear them away above the pale, distant
Downs!