Best On Occasion Poems
I stand about five feet eight
I'll admit, I'm a tad overweight
Drive an old pick up truck
Not one to pass the buck
At the moment have a dog for a mate
Dropped out of school at eighteen
Got married in a pair of old jeans
A father of four
When I sleep, I snore
When angered been known to get mean
I grew up huntin' and fishin'
Done more than my share of wishin'
Been in a few fights
Know I'm not always right
For my age, still in decent condition
In my life, I've worked many hard jobs
Its been said, "I'm rough as a cob"
I've smoked and drank
Spent time in the tank
And never, not once, did I sob
I also love being outside
My old skin is weathered and dried
Still play in the dirt
Cuss when I'm hurt
But I do have a softer side
Poetry, I read and I write
These days, prefer music to be lite
Love trees and flowers
Warm spring showers
And swinging on stars at night
I like women who like to hold hands
Take moonlight walks on the sand
Curves excite me
Whispers invite me
A good listener who tries to understand
I wash dishes, do laundry and floors
Clean bathrooms, wash walls and doors
I'm a pretty good cook
Without a cookbook
To be honest, don't mind household chores
Just so you're perfectly clear
I've traveled from there to here
Simple but complex
Know love's more than sex
And on occasion I cry manly tears
Yes sometimes I even wear pink
Wear cologne to make sure I don't stink
Write poems about birds
Use everyday words
And I don't give a damn what you think!
by Daniel Turner
Conducted by the Hands that gave them voice
Sweet songs of evening soothe my weary soul.
Oh, how I love to hear the birds rejoice
As frogs and insects hum adagio.
Each night I sit and watch the sun go down
Accompanied by song that has no score
Each night His orchestra holds me spellbound
That's why each night, I come right back for more.
Yet I am just a simple country boy
These nature songs were my first lullabies
E'en to this day they bring my heart such joy
And on occasion tear these simple eyes
When moon appears to watch the sun depart
My only thought, "My God, how great Thou art."
Daniel Turner
Too little
too late
God said to me
in this dream I had about fate
So I asked him
what did he expect,
A goody two shoes
a prophet
a saint
to be something I ain’t
Not at all he said
I want to be entertained
Eternity is boring
mostly people snoring
especially at night
and during the day on occasion
Look god! I walk around an
Amazon warehouse all day
pigeon-holing tat
picking this and that
How am I supposed to amuse you
Well I do enjoy you
breaking stuff on purpose
sabotaging the line
Bunking off for a smoke
going to the toilet
and drinking erm… doing coke
Ok hands up!
I admit
I’m a total chancer
and do stuff I shouldn’t
But it’s alright isn’t it
that Amazon place is full of s-hit
Yes it is a terrible kip
but more fun when you entertain
Like in your last job
listening to you lie
not taking the blame
asking me to help out
In your moment of doubt
All that stuff you stole
and barely got away with
on the whole
That was quite funny!
Oh the (paper and plastic) I gathered,
before selling it to the highest bidder
Throwing expensive stock out in the trash
The owner was a bastard
all things considered
a miserly swine
But nevermind
Thanks!
I did need a dig out that time
Hey! remember when I was aged about 7
and was told my pal went to heaven
Why did it happen
A year later walking to school with another kid
he was only 8
And that nut-job attacked us with a hammer
Put a hole in my friends head
The blood pumped in fountains of red
I thought he was dead
All the gore I’ve seen
witnessed a killing at 18
Trying to hold down an abattoir job in between
Yes! Life ain’t pretty by design
sometimes the stars just won’t align
Others times they go nova
and leave black holes behind
still you’ll never really understand
The powers in command
So how about this poem
Will it see me home
Does it amuse you
are we cool?
You’re still alive aren’t you!
By
David Kavanagh
The sun is the sun
It rises we run
When it turns the nighttime to day
It's hot when it's cold
And never grows old
As our time slips quickly away
The sun remains the sun
The wind is the wind
It lays and it spins
And on, occasion will rage
Be it warm, be it chilled
Whether gusty or stilled
It changes from page to page
The wind is still the wind
The seas are the seas
Just water no trees
Yet harboring life below
They rise and they fall
But nothing forestalls
Their predictable to and fro
The seas are the seas
We think we see change
Ordinary looks strange
Perhaps, something new has begun
In the grandest of schemes
We're all chasing dreams
There's nothing new under the sun.
By Daniel Turner
5/7/2021
This is my interpretation of
Ecclesiastes Chapter 1 verse 9
...what has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again
there is nothing new under the sun.
Believing that marriage was ordained of God;
that, like a seed, it needed constant nurturing,
she sowed her deep devotion with a hope
that stretched beyond an ordinary scope.
That hope scanned schisms that had left her desolate-
until it reached the heavens with her prayers.
Time and time again, her spouse complained or failed to do small things
essential to cementing the marriage bond.
With unusual restraint, she held her tongue, forgave. . . and listened.
If matrimony were the fire in a hearth, she supplied the kindling and the logs;
then lauded him for twigs that on occasion he tossed in.
Some nights she’d lay a weary head upon the chest
of the one she called her husband (when he was fast asleep and didn’t know).
In those moments, she felt the beat of that heart he never showed to her.
With humbleness she supplicated God
that she might find connection with her mate.
She wondered and she wondered why. . .if thoughts, invisible,
which were transmitted to the Lord, were able to be recieved by Him,
why could not her words, directly spoken to the one on earth she loved, be heard?
Daily on her knees, she telegraphed celestially with a faith most extraordinary. . .
and wisdom came. Her love would not be broken, and she grew.
The seed she’d planted took root too and grew until there came a time. . .
she laid a graying head upon the chest
of one that was her husband (not just in word only);
a someone who now watched HER as she drifted off to sleep.
With his heartbeat strong in her ear,
she heard him whisper softly, “I love you” as he kissed her cheek goodnight.
For Audrey Carey's "To Err Is Human to Forgive Divine"
It took place shortly after and the stage was set
before words before ink before heavenly breath
There was a rain on the parade
of eternal monotony
and the angels were elated
In the Beginning God created... the verse everyone knows
tantalizing phrasing that leaves you on your tip-toes
before grass before plants before earthly foes
And the earth was without form... (and talk about void!)
It was there when it was all lightning and storm:
chaos untamed in watery upheaval,
though the celestial walls were impermeable
Enough disarray to make a grown man weep
And darkness was over the surface of the deep...
It was there before it was given the title: Sea
Before light was birthed with a "Let there be"
Blanketing the earth with cerulean comfort
in preparation for ethereal tickles,
despair happy to take her wings
And the Spirit of God was hovering...
Like a golden eagle dipping down
into azure pools
knowing mountains will soon rise from your depths
... but LOVE is the requisite
... and HOPE is the heart of it
Just like the weather that's about to hit the scene,
before Pangaea performs in emerald green
... and there was morning the Second Day
Can you not hear your doubts just wash away?
---remember what happened on the Third?
I'm sure you do---
As you see Him reaching down with liquid love for you,
longing to invigorate your being
He wants to split you in half
as the Rod of Moshe
made watery walls of crystallization
He longs to enter into your towering trust
(and not just on occasion)
For sometimes the Water of Life is dramatic
Sometimes it's not
And sometimes your fears could use a little irrigation
(right now your eyes could use
a bit of prayerful precipitation)
Remember the ruby water that dripped down
the Face of the Son
that fateful day
Drink it in Become full
Indulge in humble hydration
Your heart will tell you what you should
And behold it was very good...
NOTE: Moshe is the Hebrew rendering of the name Moses.
Written April 2nd, 2016
For the Element Water Contest Hosted by Brian Davey
Six Words Used: Impermeable, Requisite, Invigorate, Crystallization, Precipitation, Hydration
Beware the morning tiger
Before his first coffee
Look out for the afternoon lizard:
Ectotherm on the sidewalk soaking in other people’s acknowledgement
On occasion I’m a hummingbird
Seeking life’s nectar while shying away from human contact
Sometimes I’m a dolphin
Smiling and dancing in the waves
Last week I felt like a beaver
Getupgotoworkdomyworkgotobedgetupgotoworkdomyworkgotobed
(do beavers even have beds?)
Whatever happened to the puppy
Who would romp exuberantly through the day
Eventually collapsing in utterly exhausted joy?
Be wary of the electric eel
Who will zap you if you get too close
Look at the proudly preening peacock
Hoping somebody will notice me
Occasionally I’m a jackrabbit
Always on my guard, ready to run away from conflict
At times I’m a giraffe
Able to rise above the dust of the day
This week I was a worker bee putting in a day’s work
Happy to let the Queen be in charge
Whatever else I may be, I feel like a White Rhino
Older, wiser, stronger, endangered
My spirit animal is a zoo
…or a puppy
She rides on a sailing ship high in the skies
embracing creation of her wandering star
cheerfully greeting her guests.
Some pleasant and chatty,
some on occasion she may ask,
“Please don’t fall over me.”
Hawaii is where her heart lies;
and island of poetry that inspires her soul,
of orange sunset against sublime radiant blue.
She strolls up and down the tan beach,
enjoying the feel of warm grains of sand between her toes,
breathing in the whole innocence of beauty
as tears of joy blend in with the cool briny sea.
A place of timeless harmony
her peace of heaven
6/19/2017
A tribute to Connie Marcum Wong
Her poems are inspiring
This was a comment written by a friend; I know is if a fight breaks out on a plane and I'm your flight attendant please don't fall on me during your altercation ??
SPELLING TEST (there are over 30 words contained within this poem that are often
misspelt by the common man)
We all do on occasion temporarily misspell.
Amateur or connoisseur of language,who can tell?
Conscientiously piece together,peculiar bits of rhyme.
Manoeuvre letters gorgeously for others to refine.
Discipline and experience,all apparent to you and me.
Pronunciation not enough to spell linguistically.
Skilful realignment of the letters needs addressed.
Paralytic implications quintessentially expressed.
A ricochet of rhythm,sabotaged in a queue of verse.
Cacophony of tone with their spellings unrehearsed.
Is your spelling kamikaze,a haemorrhaging of ink.
A karaoke nightmare,communication on the brink.
So literary geniuses,i am all apologetic.
If my utterance is rabbled and my spelling is pathetic.
You see,many words i utilize in this poem i create.
Have been misspelt for centuries,the most common is
separate
Believing that marriage was ordained of God;
that, like a seed, it needed constant nurturing,
she sowed her deep devotion with a hope
that stretched beyond an ordinary scope;
scanned schisms that had left her desolate-
until it reached the heavens with her prayers.
With unusual restraint, she held her tongue
countless times. . . and listened.
If matrimony were the fire in a hearth,
she supplied the kindling and the logs;
then lauded him for twigs
that on occasion he tossed in.
Some nights she’d lay a weary head
upon the chest of one she called her husband
(when he was fast asleep and didn’t know).
and she'd feel the beat of a heart he wouldn’t show.
With humbleness she supplicated God
that she might find connection with her mate.
She wondered and she wondered why. . .
if thoughts, invisible, which were transmitted
to the Lord, by Him were then received,
why could not her words directly spoken
to the one on earth she loved, be heard?
Daily on her knees, she telegraphed celestially
with faith extraordinary. . . and wisdom came.
Her love would not be broken, and she grew.
The seed she’d planted too
took root and grew until there came a time. . .
she laid a greying head upon the chest
of one that was her husband(not in word alone),
who watched her as she drifted off to sleep.
With his heartbeat strong in her ear,
she heard him whisper softly, “I love you”
as he kissed her cheek. “Goodnight.”
For the contest FAITH/ sponsored by A Rambling Poet
Slipping into my silver-gray SUV
Nicknamed " Sly Buster Cruiser”
I speed off down the rocky, off-highway road.
Twisting and reeling like my wired mind,
windows down, sunroof open,
(Annie Lennox groveling on the CD player),
reckless noon rays on my chin,
wind on ticklish, naked nape ...
Damn, who cares? I am 19 again?
Shuffling into the 7-Eleven Store
beside the Shell gas station
(With a free wind shield clean-up),
I draw out some bucks for a Philip Morris pack
and a two bottles of beer, plus a Dorito
( the barbecue flavor , please)…
Ain’t a drinker; a smoker on occasion,
but I feel like being reckless and
slightly rebellious ;
I lock the door prepping up for an untamed ride.
Grabbing a spray of cologne mist
and red-violet lipstick from the tote,
my irises roll from the lane to the side mirror,
as I slowly dunk the beer, icy and bubbly
zooming away with hands laughing on the wheels.
Nobody knows me in this place; my ribs shout silently:
This is just all for me; just now, I’ll be.
This is just between me and the edge of a free road.
This is about my navel breathing fire and ice,
It’s about touching danger fast without reason or fuzz
Because later, all this smooth craziness will soon pass.
Back to the same home trail, I rip the cigarette sticks,
slide the unused bottle in my bag
before wiping the red on lips with the Dorito foil…
“ Mommy, Mommy… where have you been?”
I smile as if my skin had chased a tornado…
Dumping the beer on the back porch,
My hand is cleansed by some kind of holy water,
And I start to hug my mischievous girl...
Then off I start to roll the plates on the sinking sink.
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Celebrating My Faves Contest
For Andrea Dietrich--Faved by Sponsor
Reposted 4/24/2016
FOREVER LOVE
Margie........my one and only........Margie
love's music echoes timeless
spring fed it flows forever
Pop would get up early, make Mom's hand-mixed
favorite black and green tea, and when ready,
he walked down the hallway tinkling her teacup
with a spoon, gently waking her.
When he came home each day
he'd whistle the tune......
"Margie......how I love you ......"
alerting her that he was near.
On occasion, his mood would be jubilant
upon arriving home,
whistling......
"Sweet.....Georgia.....Brown!"
just like his favorite basketball team,
The 'Harlem Globetrotters'
Mom was Dad's whole world,
I could hear his expectant excitement
in the tone of his remarkable whistling
whenever I pushed him down the hallway
in his wheelchair, knowing his one and only
lifelong love would soon be in sight.
He couldn't mix and brew her favorite tea
anymore, or wake her with her tinkling teacup,
but until the end, he could still whistle!
.....and man!
could he whistle!
"Fragments and crumbs of life,
all the little pieces"
John Ruskin 1853
Having lived with our Mom in Sydney for six months
Federal Police returned us to live with our father
He had begun working as the art teacher
at a small Christian school in Tasmania
He and other staff members lived at the school.
I was 8, my sister 6. Geneva was experimental then.
Elementary students were taught together in one hall.
Desks divided from next, talk was completely disallowed.
An American curriculum called ACE was adhered to.
As the art teacher's daughter, naturally I washed all the brushes.
Three utterances compiled in class per day earned detention.
Despite it being 1991, rulers whapped knuckles on occasion.
Cherished butterfly catching buddy, best friend, Penny
Fed apples from ample pile to fence wire necked horses
Dawn saluting dairy sold milk for locals, chapel on site
Peers lived a wall away, an idyllic community lifestyle
Generally, three afternoons per week, my father took
My sister on playground, shopping outings.
I stayed home. Instructed not to go outside.
Staff's children grassy antics gazed at through glass.
I ate vitamin c tablets by the dozen, and scrapings of butter.
A staff member bought all our groceries from a limited list.
I sang for company. There was no radio or TV.
My Dad and sister returned at nightfall. Chewing on sweets.
Alone in the house, I imaged it was a cruising ocean vessel
I sailed down the dim driveway, swamped by giant pines
I took apples, a cow, a Bible, pencils for sketching horses
Sailing on jaunty sun hugged foliage, I was captain
'Geneva Has Evolved'
Constance La France
All The Little Pieces Contest
25th August 2020
I shore up my doubt, behind a loosely bound hope
Which in turn is propped up without foundation
Cynical of a life, at the mercy of luck
Collateral damage feeds my reservation
I shore my up tomorrow with what I see today
Without conspiracy or investigation
I place trust in all that’s completely unfettered
For fear, I’m left to this present resignation
I shore up my life with whatever came before
Not hindsight or academic education
The oblivion traversed until I was born
Strings along primal echoes of information
I shore up my conscious with bliss and ignorance
Interspersed with indifference on occasion
It’s not I don’t care about suffering and death
Rather, I’m desensitised by their pervasion
I shore up my denial with an open mind
Which is nothing except raw interpretation
This planet spins correctly, even though tilted
Not by wishful thinking, but strange gravitation
I shore up my boredom, trying to fall asleep
When really tired, will attempt hibernation
Anything to forget this human condition
After remembering, I’m long past salvation
I shore up my heaven, by creating a hell
Balance looks more appealing, in an equation
Gaze upon purgatory, and share what I see
Not because I’m kind, it’s more my destination
I shore up my poem by claiming it’s my own
But in truth, it’s an open collaboration
I conspire with the musings of all that’s unclear
They dwell inside me, in flawless aberration
- - - - - - -
better to face hell alone ~ than bring the whole world along for the ride
said the moon eclipsing the sun ~ who replied son I’m right behind you
By
David Kavanagh
Panagiota Romios
Spirited, elaborate and gracefully
She weaves with ease her poetry
Wistful, yet strong, carries her own
A starry queen on her exalted thrown
She writes to please
Puts minds at ease
Cinnamon and peppermints, I wish her well
Flowers and dance for mademoiselle
A true patriot, all Americana
A loving mother and Nana
Sadly, I drifted away from the poetess
Too busy in my world of selfish distress
Engaging in on a realization
That she fights for all and on occasion
At worldly events she has a feel
Who can dishonor a woman so real
I’ll read her poems and hear her song
The innocent lady, whose was right all along
Equanimity
Humanity’s dance of grace.
Deepest smile, writing dreams.
Upon her velvet finger,
Gleams a moonstone ring.
Iced glass of Jasmine tea.
Honoring the warm, melodious,
Whispers of this midnight Spring.
Avant-gardistic
by Panagiota Romios
Copyright © Panagiota Romios | Year Posted 2023