Best Order Now Poems
When I gaze far off into the night sky
The chaos is not pleasing to the eye.
Seems there was never an overall plan
When the beginning of time began.
I don’t mean to sound so high and mighty
But the stuff up there’s not very tidy.
Yes, there are luminous constellations
But it needs cosmic configuration.
When figuring out just how to plan it
I started on the jumbled up planets.
It’s not a stretch to say they need sorting
And here are a few things I’m purporting.
First I thought they should be alphabetized
Or at least ordered according to size.
They could be arrayed by number of moons
But I think that’s getting too picayune.
Sure, there is a listing of other things
Like arranging them by their colored rings.
Or by what lie’s hidden beneath the dust
That entirely coats their outer crust.
I settled and placed them by dimension
As said plan will cause the least contention.
Starting with the sun, since that big old orb,
Can’t help but lead; being so self absorbed.
Petite planet Pluto, this time is first
Mercury’s next, then trodden Mars comes third.
After that Venus, followed by our Earth
Which were in that order, now they’re by girth.
Let’s jump up to Neptune, then Uranus
Which happens to rhyme with Ignoramus.
Yes fancy Saturn, you go next in line
Jupiter’s last, since so easy to find.
Let’s continue this celestial tale
By systematizing the scene, broad scale.
We’ll journey further than Venus and Mars
To coordinate the world of stars.
We can array each pulsar by brightness
Which doesn’t interest me the slightest.
Or chart them based on their distances from us
Though why on Earth quibble with all that fuss?
Instead we’ll do what the globe mappers did
And arrange every star on a grid,
We’ll plot a rough draft on large graph paper
Like olden times, by light of a taper.
Now, you can choose a square and stick by it.
Worry free of the old cosmic riot.
Where each and every star is viewed best
Whether gazing to north, south, east or west.
The sky is looking much better by now
And all the skeptics will have to avow.
That once you know how to rework matter
Like here on earth, it’s the size that matters.
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I sit down
After eight hours of ordering
And waiting on the customers
I must relax
From a day’s work waiting the tables
That have been mine since I started
Steak is my specialty
So I tell my customers
And the food here is excellent
It’s not just a line
It really is good here
I worked fifty eight hours
Just in one week
And I get the normal overtime
Just time and a half
Not much considering
All the extra work I do
I help clean the tables
I get the menus all set up together
And I make sure the chairs
Are all in their places
I want my area to be in perfect shape
So when the customers come
They are impressed
By how this place looks
And start their pleasant stay
At my steakhouse
I greet, seat, and treat
All the customers that come into this restaurant
I tell each one
The daily specials
Which, in my opinion
Aren’t worth the price we charge them
But they order them anyway
And with a smile
I tell them thank you
And I turn in the order
I do this for each table
Saying that I am so happy they came in
And that I will take their order now
I serve each customer as if they are family
They appreciate this
And I’ve seen many repeat customers
That want to sit
In my area
They want me to be their waiter
I easily approach them
And lovingly take their order and serve them
With the greatest of joy
And when they leave
It’s the tip that keeps me alive
The work is alright
But the tip is what keeps me working there
I collect all of them for the fifty eight hours
That I have worked there this week
And I deposit them into my bank
Where I must have the money
To pay all my bills
Life requires so much
And I need this job
To stay afloat
I don’t know if I would ever be anything else
This is my life
And I am the waiter
At the local steakhouse
Just a note, I've never been a waiter, this is purely a fictional observation.
Entered into Catie Lindsey's "Free Verse Time Again" contest
3/7/2013
Nature’s way is perfect
And once we all connect
We’ll view the brilliance in the airwaves
Essential order now correct
I believe that this will come to pass
Intuition saves the day
We learn our thoughts materialize
And see the power of our ways
Now if this solitary person
Sitting peaceful in the grove
Can see the world ablaze like this
We can all create the love
It just takes ordinary people
Giving credit where it’s due
Focusing their strengths
On what is right and what is true
Morning Coffee
by Edmund Siejka
The night before
A soft rain had fallen
Traffic lights,
Hitting the streets
At just the right angle,
Transformed wet asphalt
Into long shiny ribbons.
Pulling into the Diner
He saw that most of the tables were taken
But there was one left
All the way in the back.
She was there
Calling all the morning customers by name
The men answering good naturedly
Their voices still heavy with sleep.
He watched as she walked
Down the narrow aisle
Every so often resting on a familiar shoulder
As she leaned over to pour another cup of coffee.
Closing his eyes
He wished she was with him
Kissing him
Her arms around his waist.
He, holding her so close to him.
When he looked up
He was alone.
Eventually she came to him
Walking all the way to the back of the diner
A mischievous smile on her face
Her impatient eyes asking
“Are you ready to order now?”
His first experience of the schoolyard
on his first day, shown total disregard
by all of his peers, as pecking order
being established, viewing disorder
he was unsure if, or how to interact
for no reason he was physically attacked
by children that he had known as good friends
his status in the pecking order now depends,
demonstrating courage, and determination,
looking to gang leaders for inspiration
allowing himself to take pain and beatings
gaining respect that he was seeking,
after years of unhappiness, abuse
he had gained some knowledge that he could use
in future life, schoolyard politics into lifetime
Politics, never again a victim of any crime.
14 April 2017.
Contest:- schoolyard politics.
We are pelted daily on television by some brassy tout,
Hawking useless stuff we're told we can't survive without!
"Not available at your local store - the price cannot be outdone;
Order now and I'll send you two for the price of one!"
A pastime as American as baseball, barbeque and punkin pie,
Is touring yard sales! Mercy! The myriad of junk you can buy!
Neighbors hold sales displaying useless gimcrackery,
To rid themselves of whatchamacallits and other knickknackery!
Antique stores are a haven for cast-off falderol galore.
The shelves sag with stuff folks have no use for anymore.
It doesn't make sense to clutter my attic or spend my dollars,
On such stuff as antique coffee grinders or old horse collars!
Even my computer is not immune from spewing bodacious bunk,
Displaying a litany of unsolicited emails called "junk!"
Some guy in Liberia promises millions if only I'd send some cash.
Others with deals too good to be true - Lord, spare me this trash!
Alas, our house is crammed with stuff bought over the years,
At flea-markets, yard sales and from babbling auctioneers.
Most of it is useless, collects dust and takes up space.
Come to think of it, a yard sale might be my saving grace!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
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The End
*For those who are interested. I am posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day or so.
I am a baker in a quaint, small town,
for my artisan breads the people come ’round,
Tuscan and baguettes by the dozen are sold,
but most people come here for my Gender Rolls.
I came up with them on a cool day last year,
a batch I’ve been baking had come out all weird,
some came out all golden, slight and petite,
others were brown, all bulked and manly.
Specialization will move the product,
so I fiddled, until a stroke of luck:
feminine rolls that were soft, light and sweet,
masculine rolls, tasting strongly of meat.
The female rolls were a joy to look upon,
but they went bad quickly, best eaten when young,
the male rolls had flavors bold and very strong,
many were eating only them before long.
And that’s where the trouble truly began,
that male rolls sold better some would not stand,
they said the female rolls should get a leg up,
that I undersold them, did not make enough.
Other people got mad that I had the gall
to assign gender to dinner rolls at all,
they said it was a form of sexist abuse,
and that I should let the dinner rolls chose!
What if the dinners rolls did not fit well,
what if trying to be a gender was hell?
That said the it was presumptuous of me,
what if the roll identified as taffy?
I did not at first believe they were for real,
that they were just snowflakes, shouting their ‘feels,’
until the day they blockaded my store,
then staged a ‘die in,’ lying on my floor!
The easiest route would’ve been to backtrack,
but a man like me just ain’t wired like that,
so I posted a sign, this ‘creators’ word,
‘When it comes to rolls, there are just two genders.’
Some warned that this would destroy my sales,
but to this day I sell them all without fail,
the Red Pill crowd can’t get enough of it,
what can I say? Gender Rolls are a hit!
Order now and I will custom carve the male or female symbols into you batch. No extra charge!
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When you fear for loosing me,
I really don't care.
I rewind to my past
and I'm still standing there.
When you say if I go
surely you will die.
It seems to be baseless
And I really don,t cry.
I really don't care about,
I really don't know how.
Believe me,
Love and lust are in the same order now
Nay,
You are not uncouth;
There is something I never taught you:
When my mother told me to play tennis at school,
And advised me to swim at school,
When she networked me with the best of her people;
And she hid my shame, or indeed I was profligate.
When my steptather bought
Me a marble stone chess set,
I had done well at school;
I was motivated by materials.
When I fled the good in your mother,
After listening to the whispers
Of the evil one;
Indeed, I left you exposed;
But your mother hid my shame;
Never taught you to disrespect me;
It is a tall order, now that I am back,
I am not heavy handed, time is all that it takes;
I love it when we sit in the club,
Play a game of snooker or two;
You are now like my brothers,
Standing shoulder to shoulder with me;
It is all I ever wanted;
Tears in my eyes!
Can you take my order now if you please?
Orange liquor would definitely do the trick.
Now don’t go away for my tale is not a tease.
Frankly no one listens. I make them sick.
Every word I say each day of my life.
Sings of rhyme to an amazing flair,
Sessions that I do speak flows to rife.
I asked an elf to give me a poetic fair.
Oh you know how mischief they can be.
Now I honestly have a problem, you can see.
Saying rhymes constantly is not an esprit.
Tell me bartender have you seen a pixie.
Oh please say that you have even if it’s risky.
A real one if you please not just any nixie.
Bartender bring me a Jack and Coke, I crave.
Another chance I need, another wish to plead.
Really, really this story is true, I swear on my grave.
To tell a lie, it would make me fall down of my lead.
Elves are everywhere; they give wishes, this I know.
Now you might think I am drunk, or need to let go.
Dear bartender you are a psychological pro.
Earnestly you know this is not a fantasy to outgrow.
Remember the ghost last week that won the game show.
written for
Sponsor Natalie :) The Rogue Rhymer
Contest Name Confessions to a bartender
What is this strange place we find ourselves in?
Trapped in the open- we are free within.
Somehow the norms we always saw as true-
have been displaced by those we're not used to.
Some rules we follow for our country's sake
no longer held as true, replaced as fake!
A new world order- now our leaders crave-
and yet, within we know we must stay brave.
Free speech, our Bill Of Rights, grants one and all
to speak our minds on all things large and small.
But now, we're punished to express known truth
as those in charge may deem as so uncouth.
The matrix we are asked to now uphold
defies our Constitution's clear-cut mold.
And so we find our ways to follow creeds
our Constitution verifies as needs.
The underground of free-speech websites grant
safe haven for we patriots who can't
express ourselves- the truths we still adhere
without the thought of being silenced-fear.
There, lives support for spreading freedom's spin-
trapped in the open- we are free within.
A daylight daze
has been removed to a dark city
in a DC Comic.
Nations have swallowed their tongues,
have become a caped parody
of an undeclared independence.
The good are caught in the search lights,
the bullet heads and bare-faced bad
run the globe, turn the coats,
unify the unwilling sheep into lambs
until liberty itself is the aberration.
The enemy is a suit stuffed
with daemonic dandruff
reserved to snow job the helpless.
There is a new world order now
for the meek, weak and bolder.
Globalist's glob onto the taste of power.
Our super heroes are pot-bellied
and cancelled.
RoboCop is now a peace poet;
he gently rants
in a soundproof basement,
writes sonnets to forget
the already forgotten.
Tears and beers freefall
behind crumbling walls,
we must add too tight tights to the list
of all our ripping sorrows,
shake enfeebled fists
as menacing shadows gather
and we
ever willing to cast
accusing looks upon each other.