Best Opted Poems
For those who don't read blogs or know of Jan's successful first book, I've written a limerick for her and included it in my comment on her blog. She's included her interview in a podcast. I was asked to post my limerick here as well. If anyone would like to write a limerick in honor of her first publication, please join in and send me a limerick, or even a note to congratulate her. Thank you.
Jan, our Queen of Poop has a sexy voice
Crowned as Limerick Queen, she is our choice
But oh my lordy
Some are quite bawdy
Book sales are good ~ she's getting a Rolls Royce
by Lin Lane
Jan's poems are clever and funny too
Full of bawdy lines and some about poo
Comedy at its best
Her poems will attest
Read" A giggle a day" to not feel blue
by Tania Kitchin
No rolls Royce or Winnebago camper van
A sedia gestatoria, for Jan
One with a floating loo
For outdoor number two
Carried shoulder high around the Isle of Man
by David Kavanagh
LONG LIVE THE QUEEN
Jan Allison has written her first book
It was a mammoth task she undertook
Preview it on amazon
I'll guarantee you'll want one
I've read a bit and my whole body shook.
by Tom Cunningham
Jan nixed the idea of getting a Rolls
She opted to put wheels on toilet bowls
Her farts serve as a horn
She ignores those who scorn
And she never gets stopped to pay bridge tolls
by Mark Koplin
In a bathroom where tales tend to unfold
And humerous secrets are often told
There’s a plop and a cheer
Laughter rings loud and clear
In porcelain chambers poems are sold
by Arthur Vaso
Poetry Soup’s Queen of Poop
has made herself a news scoop!
She published her book
and that’s all it took.
A second book is now in the loop.
by Linda Alice Fowler
Congratulations Limerick queen Jan
A poetess who’s from the Isle of Man
Pleased your book is a hit
A giggle a day gift
From an hilarious comedian.
by Beryl Edmonds
Categories:
opted, friendship,
Form:
Limerick
Our dinner, boiled to death root vegetables, we swallow in silence as night closes-in on the school. The co-opted Buddhist monastery housing us empties its porcelain thrones into the walled garden’s weedy rear yard. Village women wash: the floors, the pots, the laundry from first light to deep dark. The water runs downhill. War does not stop the drudgery. Where the women sleep is unknown to us. The owners’ are small men; they rule the house with a heavy hand. They teach the techniques of shamanic healing and Thai Massage.
the Green Tara
hangs upon the room's wall:
geraniums on the ledge
The drowse of Friday evening evaporates in a burst of gunfire. Behind the high walls surrounding the school, the sounds of violence escalate. Through open, screen-less, windows sirens sound, the sky lights up and red, yellow, blue, and white prayer flags hang lifelessly from the eaves to the locked gate. Sleep hides, as I do, beneath the covers.
coiled
insecticide smolders:
temple bells sound
The monks, long gone, leave remnants of themselves on the incense coated plaster. Peace sought here was not found. Poverty necessitated the building’s sale. Here on a side street in walking distance from the American embassy, a school for westerner’s storm cellars. The desire to learn Eastern Healing techniques and a common language, English, binds us together: American, French, Spanish, and South African captures of the internet, pilgrims. We come, healers all, undaunted by the Civil War, to Kathmandu, Nepal.
Monday, the riots end on cue. Tourists, again, meander the dust clouded streets, skirting the alley’s begging children. Tea is served in the burgeoning shops. Butchers swat flies from hanging haunches of meat, rare bird vendors walk the street with baskets of exotic birds. And, brazen Westerners stride bare armed, sari-less exposed, and rude, at least until next Friday night—they own the world.
First Published by Mulberry Fork 2016
Categories:
opted, anxiety, fear, war, ,
Form:
Haibun
I'll never forget the date, the nineteenth of November
It's etched firmly in my mind, and I'll always remember
It was the day that I had my spinal decompression surgery
And hopefully it would put an end to over a year of misery.
I was struggling to walk, and it was depressing for me
And it was especially frustrating for all my close family
I couldn't go cycling or for walks in the countryside
I just wanted to stay at home and from the world hide.
My journey started with physio, but exercise caused me pain
And I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever be the same again
My MRI scan showed trapped nerves at the base of my spine
I opted for surgery and the surgeon reassured me I'd be fine.
I arrived at the hospital and was under the care of a surgeon
A renowned Consultant Spinal Neurosurgeon, Mr Faizul Hassan
They put surgical socks on me, along with a hospital gown
Then a porter arrived at nine o'clock to take me down.
They put a mask on my face and then I went to sleep
And it was a quarter to one when I was woken by a beep
A nurse then asked me if I wanted a drink of water
And I thought I'm having an op, maybe I'll have it later.
But I'd had my operation, and I didn't feel any leg or back pain
I was so relieved I'd had it done and I could live normally again
The porter took me back to ward one and the nurses were there
It is their kindness I'll never forget and their excellent care.
And all the surgeons too who performed my operation
They've given me my life back; for them I'm full of admiration
And all the porters, admin staff and auxiliary nurses too
They all play a vital part in making dreams come true.
I'm recovering at home now and post op I've got slight pain
I'm so glad to have had it done; I have plenty to gain
My three daughters and my wife are now looking after me
And I consider myself lucky to have such a caring family.
In a fortnight I've got to have staples removed from my back
Then my back won't feel so stiff, and I'll soon be back on track
And I've got to take it easy for a few months and watch what I do
No heavy lifting of any kind and in six weeks return for a review.
Written on the 23rd November 2023
Dedicated to all the staff at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in Birmingham. UK.
Categories:
opted, care, caregiving, family, joy,
Form:
Rhyme
If you judge food with the quantity put before you
Then my first choice will be the Victoria Hotel*.
On Sunday lunch, food is too plentiful, makes you blue.
There we will eat so much it will make our tummies swell.
In my travels, I had times when food was super great.
Like when in sunny Ireland we drove up a high hill.
Fragrant smell of seafood, an inevitable bait,
And who cared about driving, chilled white wine was a thrill.
Athens and the Acropolis, a sight to explore.
We descended on foot and found a farm that served meals
We poured some white wine I had never tasted before,
Various cuts of lamb tastefully spiced, worth the deals.
One surprise was in Switzerland, on a mountain high.
My wife and I opted for a trout for the first time.
It was deliciously tasteful, we could almost fly.
We shared a second helping, costed many a dime.
I suppose there are other good times when food excelled,
But Urk in Holland was my biggest surprise of all.
A shack near the sea served food but not even a smell
We ate the finest fresh sole, the chef we had to call.
But the worst food I partook in was in old Brazil
Only meat and hormone-fed chicken, cooked with no skill.
NB The Victoria Hotel is situated in Sliema, Malta, not far from where I live. The food there is always first class, except for the wine :)
Categories:
opted, food, travel,
Form:
Rhyme
HIS GRACE IS RELENTLESS
You called me from a million
but what did I do Father God?
You gave me eyes yet I chose to be blind
You gave me ears yet I chose to be deaf
You gave me mouth yet I chose to be mute
You gave me hands yet I chose to not share
You gave me feet yet I chose to turn my back
To Your call,
I said No
I did not stop
I run away
I opted to disobey You
So stubborn, I refused
doing only what I want
what I like...
Left to right roads with trees,
cemented, rocky, sandy,
so many roads I walk through
believing I can without You Father God
but I was wrong... terribly wrong!
I gain the golds, the diamonds
I was happy then for I have lots of friends
Day and night,
I taste the best meat
I drink the finest wine
I drive the newest limousine
I dress in signature clothes
I walk in branded shoes
I can sleep even in a bed of bills
but why?
Why amidst all these I am not happy?
I feel lost,
there is no peace, no contentment.
I am like the empty hole of a doughnut.
It is as if I am in a dark tunneled labyrinth.
I am calling the name of my mama, my papa
the friends whom I shared my golds
but what I heard in an echo
is my own voice....
I fell and dream.
I captain my life's ship
so wanting to sail,
swim on the ocean blues
watched over by sunny skies
and if tired
rest awhile in silky white sands
but along my sail,
the breezy air begin to blow
the quiet sea begin to wave..
Lots of wind blows they hit my ship
I thought only seagulls I will see
but again am wrong,
waves became tides
shaking and disturbing my ride...
I woke-up, asking myself...
If only I have chosen,
responding to Your call Father God
where could You have lead be?
I start my search,
uttering my cries,
repenting for my disobedience
weeping for Your grace and compassion
to kindly rescue me...
Always loving,
Always faithful,
Always merciful,
Father God answered me.
__________________________________________
Copyright © 2015
11:00 am, September 06, 2015
Categories:
opted, bible, character, christian, god,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
There was once a king who decided that for him - beauty was silence.
He issued a decree that all sound was banished henceforth and that his land would forever more be as silent as snow. To enforce this impossible law he sent countless envoys to every corner of the land. Every creature was informed. No birds can sing. No dogs must bark. No man, woman or child could speak their needs and must now make them known by signs. Even the very thunder was ordered to be mute.
The penalty of course was death. Few were able to obey.
Flocks of birds were shot from the heavens. Dogs were slain before their master’s eyes. All the trees were stripped of leaves lest the wind should sigh through them. Brooks were frozen so water could not splash or gurgle down the stream beds.
It was like a permanent winter with bare trees and frozen ground.
Children at play were wiped out without mercy. Cows being herded were bombed for lowing. This unmerciful killing went on for many years.
The merest sound so angered the King that he ordered atrocious punishments for offenders that he did not kill.
The talents of artist were in great demand as they painted cards for all occasions for people to flash. in lieu of speaking. The effect on the population was to cause the formation of many covert societies where secret meetings, when betrayed, were raided and countless murders committed by the ‘silence’ enforcers.
The King was greatly feared by everyone and dubbed “Snowman - the Silencer”
Generations of good people were wiped out. Countless noisy species were hunted to extinction. Music was never heard or played.
Silent clocks were invented. Sound-proof rooms were built. Some desperate parents, to protect their children, opted to have their babies larynx-es removed at birth.
The King was surrounded by silent apathetic, joyless subjects.
The King’s obsession had effectively destroyed all the people, the life and the environment around him.
How much easier it would have been, if he, in wanting silence had only thought to destroy his own eardrums.
Categories:
opted, allegory, evil, humanity, power,
Form:
Prose
On a dark Friday night, creature crawling
The darkness silenced, frogs in swamps shuts
Croaking and the hissing create muted at once
To perceive the whistlers whistling in turns
PaMushika-shika, To board home, Combies
After being dropped off by the combi Pahasha
I opted for a quick thriving by the darks, Ana
Sisi Pamumvuri. A quick one to say, quench
My absurd sexual appetites, lips left so dried...
Two steps forth, leaking my white rimmed lips
A bite too, appreciating a sultry maze in front
Never did I thought of my ED condition. Oh
Had long forgotten about understanding my ed
And his symptoms, Ed and my lifestyle as well
His common causes I had drawn a blank eye.
A short skirts fitting her slendern torso, as of
My utterance she became the defined beauties
Of the night, Eh... so eloquent alike Mugabe's
Speech in Native language, mocking the chaps
Whom taught him of vowels a e i o u. A ei ou
Quick to react, she gets to talk business as of
Her routine, A five dollar note for short time
Not a bad fortune for her well decorated torso
In her dark room I found myself in, undressing
And her radio, powered on spelling the melting pot
It spelt of the misfortunes of the domains vividly
How we queue in long impetuous lines to refill
How the price hiking and shelves emptying wry
How the bond note manifest into bondage, more...
And more dilemmas spat by the voice in her radio.
The heraldings left me a quagmire, I was stunned
In a state of confusion and conflicts, I was naked
So rinsed were my thoughts of independence awry
And to her nakedness I found not any pleasure more
An ED to her rescue, Victims of circumstances
Never did I thought of stress to lead me an ED
Depression, anxiety, and alcohol often trigger it.
In this case maybe my physical factor of diabetes,
My kidney disease and blood vessel diseases been the culprit.
An Erectile dysfunction to her rescue. Victims of ED.
Categories:
opted, allegory,
Form:
Quatrain
The Painful Facts
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
Dedicated to Chantel
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
Apparently now, Jan in the year 2019, States like New York have opted to let go of civilization altogether and drown their laws with paganism and child sacrifice. Lord God have mercy on us !? or not?
-Robert A. Dufresne
PS.
ET TU VERMONT ? FEB 20 2019
Categories:
opted, holocaust,
Form:
Rhyme
A legend who created the Afro-beat,
Sent to read medicine,but opted for music,
Advocator for the poor,who refuses defeat,
He uses his music to strengthen his physique.
He fought against corruption by leaders
A legend who created the Afro-beat,
His songs traveled like an eagle with strong feathers,
To correct the ills in the society is no mean feat.
He lost many things in his struggle for bright lit,
homeless,orphans and poor he feeds and elevated,
A legend who created the Afro-beat,
He was tortured,imprisoned and humiliated.
Many tried to weaken him by making comments which are oblique,
Yet,he remained an ambassador for good work and seat,
The father of Yabis and king of the Talakuta republic,
A legend who created the Afro-beat.
*A quatrain with a refrain in line 1 of verse 1;line 2 of verse 2;line 3 of verse 3 and line 4 of verse 4....
*Yabis-means making jest of people,government and situations of life.This was created by Fela Anikulapo Kuti.He also named his shrine Talakuta republic where he entertained people/fans with his music before he died....
Categories:
opted, dedication, life, music, music,
Form:
Quatrain
Wednesday night, hard at work
We strove to get the paper out;
Our goal to met the deadline
And secure the daily routes.
But then an accident occurred,
A case of slice and dice and dread.
A finger slipped, now padded tip
Was hanging by a thread.
Unable to stop the flow of blood,
The victim quite distressed
We opted for the ER
All hoping for the best.
And luckily the doc on call
Was ready to perform.
"The bark is worst than the bite,
The blood worst than the harm.
He raised two hands, t'was plain to see
To him it didn't matter.
"Stitches or glue, it's up to you."
All eyes lent toward the latter.
A questioning smile to prompt my choice
Which all but put me at my ease.
I shook my head and closed my eyes
"Just stick it to me, please."
A true, if colorful presentation
co/my mom-Reta Pruitt
August 17,2018
Categories:
opted, fun, funny, humor, truth,
Form:
Rhyme
Tongues loose, tongues in a hangman’s noose
Wag without care to declare nonsense
As wisdom salvaged from the sluice
Where nonsense whacked common sense
Lost in a sea of error whose terror
Harmed victims concealed by protagonists who opted to promote
The cult of nonsense whose defence mirror
Plunged into reverse gears that chose to demote
Common sense when tongue waggers
Congregated in an occult cabal to upgrade gossiping skills
As though grapevine daggers
Staggered upper echelons of wisdom whose quills
Spilled reason in dark corners where tongue waggers shared nonsense seeds
Plus fertilizers of idleness and the icing on cakes of lies
Whose taste on tongues that wagged feeds
Total belief in naked gossip sties
Tied malfeasants together tighter
The better for them to wage war on common sense and desecrate workplace etiquette
Which is anathema to tenets of ultimate gossipers rate lighter
Than curses the wisdom ticket
That caught gossipers red handed munching grapevine beans
While sharing tins and pins of sins
For which gossipers scrambled when grapevine means
Came under close scrutiny when truth queens
Declared grapevines illegal in Wisdom Land
Where any culprit convicted of spreading gossip propaganda
Would be stripped of the royal brand
And punished for the gossip blunder
Committed without shame
To discredit the truth and integrity
In solemn worship of the blame name and claim
Would be sent to Coventry for eternity.
Categories:
opted, poems,
Form:
Free verse
A pair of eyes glowed in pitch darkness
Like two emeralds set on a black foil
My black cat paced across the doorway
Her tail, curled at her back like a coil
With soft steps, she crossed the aisle
And ventured out looking for a prey
She didn't meow or make any sound
Outside the house she opted out to stray
Our home with its premises was her domain
With glowing eyes that were cold as ice
She padded up and down the drive way
Looking for some unsuspecting mice
The night was still and not a leaf fluttered
The moon was a paling silver disc in the West
In her sharp ears, fell the faint sound
Of the nuzzling of fledglings in a nest
Sensing there was chance to spot a prey
Agile and alert she looked around
Down she slid along the steep wall
Following the trail of that faint sound
She arched her back into a curve
And moved closer and closer to the hedge
She saw three birdies like dressed chicken
Snuggling in an open nest at the edge
Bare of plumage, they were like pieces of flesh
And too young for fight or flight
Their mother had sadly flown away
Never expecting them to be in such a plight
The cat carefully raising itself on hind legs
Poised bristling for the measured kill
With claws sharp, she pounced upon her prey
And in a second all was silent and still
Unable to flap their wings or make a sound
They yielded to the needle claws of steel
When the mother bird alights with worms in her beak
Who can gauge the depth of pain she would feel!
Placed First
March.27. 2022
Black Cat Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Robert James Liguori
Categories:
opted, 9th grade, cat, fate,
Form:
Rhyme
I've grown rusty and unused to summoning words from a blank page - but FINALLY - there's something new to describe. School (11th grade) is over - at last - and... more.
There's a party tonight - a REAL, honest-to-God, in person, PARTY - for about 30 of us. Yes, vaccinations are documented. Life seems to be beginning again.
I'm eager, like a boxer before the bell or a racehorse at the starting gate. I'm an animal, long constrained, who knows it's about to be set free.
I'm as disorientated as an awakened dreamer and I find myself laughing, drunk with possibilities as I try on clothes for preliminary impressions.
It's hard to quash tremors of impatience.
I'm sick of helpless, indifferent, pandemic necessity.
I'm SO tired of boredom, circling me like a vulture, in my panopticon palace - that I opted for a respite of pure terror - I'm SO clever.
I'm skipping my senior year of high school and heading off to university. I'd rather die than risk spending another year in my room(s) - I almost went crazy .
There's a paper on my desk, white as a bride. It says "ACCEPTED for fall term 2021."
I’m trying not to let on that I’m afraid. Is desire always a tangle of impossible, contradictory impulses?
I've decided that my life is my only real possession - my own, small, life-or-death riddle to solve.
I want to live with intent, like I'm aimed at something and I'm going to chase happiness like it could be caught.
My luggage is open - like alligator jaws. I stare into those tan, Ghurka depths - rigid with anxiety.
My sister (home on vacation from her surgical residency) sees me eyeing the empty bags.
"Are you worried?” She says, “You look worried."
I normally find the sister-teacher-coach vibe irritating, but now, somehow, it seems reassuring.
"No," I lie - then - "A bit," I admit, close-lipped.
But that's a later worry =]
p.s. I write short stories too =]
Categories:
opted, 11th grade, confidence, journey,
Form:
Free verse
People made fun when I bought an Echo
they said it couldn’t out run a gecko.
Called it a four cylinder sewing machine
about the size of a large kidney bean.
In 01 when the gas was not as high
a manual stick I opted to buy.
I said gas will go up you wait and see
they jeered and laughed, all poking fun at me.
I pampered it with K & N filter
made sure not a thing went out of kilter.
Added a tornado to air intake
increasing mpg was piece of cake.
With windows rolled down, holding constant speed
forty-seven miles per gallon- indeed.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Categories:
opted, on writing and wordsfun,
Form:
Sonnet
Penny Lane
Penny Lane is more than just the last stop on the number 62 bus
Far removed from that of today
Where the children spit and cuss
The place tourists go to experience and kick up a fuss
Penny Lane words depict a black and white portrait of history
A branch on every scouse family tree
That which mum and dad got to see
When they were teens
Today viewing Penny Lane through the lens on a tourists bus
You sadly wont encounter any of this
It's very strange the way Liverpool changed
The old barber shop has been replaced by a supermarket chain
The banker opted for a foreign exchange
He now runs the New York stock exchange
And Freddy the fireman who kept a picture in his pocket of the queen
Apparently batted for the opposing team
He turned out such a scream
The only thing to the naked eye that appears to have stayed the same
Are the Beatles flying in the park under the cover of dark
And in typical fashion the English summer
Is still pouring rain
Its very strange
Something's never change
Here beneath Liverpool's decaying blue and red suburban sky
I was born and and shall die
Categories:
opted, music
Form:
Free verse