Best Paid Up Poems
COST NOTHING TO DO THE CARE TO LOVE IS FREE---
It cost nothing to say ”how are you”;
It cost nothing to say that I care;
It cost nothing to pray for your fellow man
Will you won’t you just care…
Cost nothing
Cost nothing to do it, cost nothing to do it, nothing to do it;
It cost nothing to love unconditionally and
How are you as I say I care?
As I pray for you and yours
Cost me nothing to see you’re well cared for..
Cost me nothing you see
It’s all part of being in God’s holy family;
The cost of the dealt already paid for on the cross;
My choice to repent you see Jesus has already paid, paid for it;
So now my redemption is freed;
My salvation is free;
Christ has paid the price, paid up the cost for me;
It cost nothing to say “how are you”
And it cost nothing to say I love you
And it cost nothing to say I care so for you;
And that I am here
For you see God’s love is and mine is not for sale
The love we have is free
You see God’s love is free
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
Someone once told me that there's nothing
better than a bear hug.
So I went to the zoo ...
and gave some random lady a bear hug,
but I got slapped
and now I can't go back to the zoo.
It wasn't that great.
I heard butterfly kisses tickle
so I gave it a try.
It tickled a little,
but the wings kept getting hung in my teeth.
It wasn't that great.
A friend and I were drinking beer one day
when his dog came up, and started licking himself ...
well ... you know where dogs occasionally
lick themselves.
So my friend says, "I'll bet you a hundred bucks
that you can't do that."
I said, "You're on." ... and I gave it a try
But the dog bit me and my friend never paid up.
It wasn't that great.
You asked me for a poem today.
I raised the roof of my skull
like the hood of a jalopy,
I replaced the sparkplugs and
Revved my six cylinders, smoking
Choking an unbreathable cloud,
My tarnished shroud.
You asked me for a poem today,
And here I am full of meager
Moments where I once savored
Modest madness. Where I neglected
Love and paid up with hungry longing,
All my regrets for reckless crimes.
You ask me for a poem today.
Just one day, a poem!
But all poems are made somewhere in the stars,
Carrying ships of perfumes and refracted prisms,
They know no start or end,
They violate all clocks and calendars.
I won’t know when the words stop flowing.
You might catch it if they do.
down the stairs
down the creek
creek is down
creek is flowing
flowing fast
flowing under
under glass
under pass
pass it over
pass it slow
slow poke
slow down
down and around
down for the count
count the money
count is under
under siege
under the sun
sun is hot
sun went down
down beat
down south
south west
south bound
bound up
bound down
down the road
down time
time out
time to go
go slow
go under
under appreciate
under paid
paid down
paid up
up the creek
up or down
down wind
down a well
well is full
well is deep
deep pockets
deep and down
down and out
down and down
down under
down bridge
bridge
under
© Eve Roper 8/11/2015
Contest Name: Down Under
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
I-Robby
Robby had been married going on eight years,
2hen his Marie demanded a divorce,
whe had been planning, lawyering up,
and instantly dragged it into the court.
Poor Robby had not seen it coming,
he thought things had been going quite well,
he could barely deal with loosing his love,
much less navigating Family Court hell.
Worst still Marie had cleaned out their accounts,
so he had to borrow from his parents,
just to afford a junior lawyer,
in truth, Robby was unable to bear it.
Being separated from his two boys,
being along with no partner if life…
What could he have done to ever have earned
the enmity of his once loving wife?
The proceedings, they just kept dragging on,
and Robby faced insurmountable bills,
then one day Marie claimed that he’d hit her,
that his temper was always set to kill?!
Robby’s family gawked in disbelief,
their boy never even been in a fight,
they all tried to say the Marie had lied,
but she played the judge’s sympathies right.
Men don’t fare well in Family Courts,
in the end Rob lost near sixty percent,
add the that alimony, child support,
and no custody of his two children.
The young men felt his world crashing on down,
but the worst of it was yet to come,
Marie’s claims made their way up to his boss,
and within weeks, Rob’s position was gone.
When he told the judge he was out of work,
and his payments would have to be changed,
she said,”I’ll have to investigate this,
many dead-beats go to lengths to not pay.”
That dragged on for several long months,
and Robby was already long broke,
one morning a cop waited on his front door,
and with a sneer, glared at Robby and spoke:
“We have got a complaint that you have not
paid up on this month’s child support.
A warrant has been issued for your arrest,
I really hate dealing with your sort!”
He tried to explain his words with the judge,
but the officer really didn’t care,
dragged into court, Rob found the same judge,
glowering down at him from her chair.
“Your wife needs those payments to survive,
nut you seem to think this is a joke,
so you’re going to spend a week in jail,
and learn an important lesson, I hope.”
As to the judge’s biased nature,
Robby no longer had any doubts,
and none there knew that when he went away,
never more would he ever come out…
CONTINUES IN PART II.
I am posting this for Carol B., there is only one way my friend.
“How do you plead?” he shouted and stared.
I was startled and dazed, alone, cold, and scared.
My mind was confused and starting to race.
What are these charges I now seem to face?
Last thing I remember, was hitting my head.
Maybe that’s it, I thought, maybe, I’m dead.
It was difficult to orient myself to the room,
giving off an impending deep feeling of doom.
A husky voice bellowed, “Do you have a plea?”
I didn’t understand what was happening to me.
“It’s a simple little question. I’ll ask once again.
In the life you were given, were you guilty of sin?”
I was seeking composure, unsure what to do.
I stammered confessing, “There have been a few.”
He began to unravel a lengthy white scroll.
As he scanned down the pages, I saw his eyes roll.
I wanted to speak, not knowing if I should.
Then, “Guilty as charged!” as gavel struck wood.
“But wait” I objected, “That doesn’t make sense.
Have I no opportunity to mount a defense?
I have made mistakes like your document reads,
but I’ve given my time, done many good deeds.”
He gave me a nod, but proclaimed, “It’s too late!
The presence of sin cannot pass through the gate.
The works you have done are not up for review.
Our directive is simple, who gets to go through.
Your sentence is death!” he proceeded to say.
“How will you resolve this debt you must pay?”
I felt my knees buckle as I dropped to the floor.
A light started glowing like I’ve not seen before.
A resounding voice then began to cascade.
“By the blood of the lamb, his debt has been paid!
For, he hath proclaimed his faith in the Son.
So written in the Word, now let it be done.”
That gavel slammed down an ear-popping sound.
“In light of the evidence that now has been found,
with debts all paid up and a life free of sin …,
well done faithful servant, you may now enter in.”
As a door opened up, light shown on my bed.
My wife said, “Wake up! I know you’re not dead.”
He was an old fella in overalls
With a greasy rags hanging out of his pockets all
And his finger nails were bordered in black
From the years fixin’ engines on his back
He worked hard every day
Burnin’ daylight was not his way
And I rolled into town behind a truck
My car givin’ in being out of luck
He took one look at the car
And wiped his hands with a rag so far
With a look of thinkin’ hard and long
“Well give me a couple a hours and I’ll have her purring a song”
So we left him to the work to be done
And went to the town cafe for a meal all along
A few hours later he turned up to the cafe
Again wiping his hands for the grease
Saying, “Mate, Gudday”
“Well I’m not too up on these modern engines
But I fixed it up this time havin’ won again”
So we paid up for the service made
With a smile and another legend making the grade.
© Paul Warren Poetry
If your automobile insurance was all paid up to date
And you suffered a loss, just what would you say?
Would you say, “Mr. Repairman, I will pay the bill”
I don’t believe Allstate will do what they say they will
If one paid for your families health insurance policy
And a family member had to have a small biopsy
Would you have the confidence to make a claim?
Or pay it yourself, since they weren’t to blame?
If one bought life insurance for your burial and plot
And you died, would your survivor say, thanks a lot
But I think I will pay for this all out of my own pocket
After all it was not me, but another that bought it?
If you owed a debt so big that you just could not pay?
And one who loves you said He paid it all in one day
Would you continue in futility to pay, in unbelief
And pay for all eternity, a promise you can’t keep?
If you were on death row, for all of yours sins to die
And someone gave their life for you a sacrifice
Would you start a new life, like you were born again
Or continue to live your old life of shame and sin
Jesus paid your debt, Gods word is your guarantee
All you need was paid by Jesus death upon a tree
You can pay the cost, not believing you are free
Or cast all your cares on Jesus, fully redeemed
If you can trust Allstate to do what they say they'll do
Then surely you can trust in the Word of God too
If you can trust when 'you’re in good hands” they say
Then trust the nail prints in His, It's you He died to save
Villanelle : Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
Pull Pound down tear veil off event horizon holes
All to make for one's own sacre the pur sang lyre
Invent a machine feed it Homeric fire
No enjambement perfect rhyme rhythm metre folds
Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
Whoever tops the charts which poem's ire
Shines through Apollo's defiant mien Zeus scolds
All to make for one's own sacre the pur sang lyre
Ne'er short the naive champion of the ephemère
Paid up club member the mutual backscratcher roles
Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
Machine that thinks can it rasa taste inspire
Mete out criteria merit sound sense enfolds
All to make for one's own sacre the pur sang lyre
Art of artifice best profits business liar
Poets at the stakes burn to free the poems' souls
Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
All to make for one's own sacre the pur sang lyre
© T. Wignesan - Paris, December 15, 2018
I had decided to go through with it
and this time it was serious
not just another
melodramatic episode
brought on by events
that were beyond
my control
this was the real thing
a calm calculated decision
I had taken care of outstanding debts
paid up bills, ran errands
mowed the lawn
and fixed a leaking tap
words are subject to interpretation
and could never adequately express
what I really wanted to say
so I didn't leave a note
I locked myself in the garage
stuck a length of hose up the exhaust
got in and closed the door
I sat there chocking on fumes
when suddenly the car conked out
looking at the instrumentation panel
I couldn't believe my eyes
out of all the stupid mistakes I'd made
this was surely the best
sitting there like a complete idiot
holding onto the steering wheel
would you believe
I'd ran out of gas
* penned by
Scarecrow Joe
We had ourselves a time last night
the card game bordered on theft,
but there was no trouble at all thank God
the losers paid up and left.
The younger men with wives and kids
went home to their early nights,
with their egos went the worry
of there being any fights.
We old divorcees and widowers
would stay until the dawn,
there being no comforts left at home
all of them long since gone.
Alone except for each other
we share an age old bond,
gruff old men with ailments
our camaraderie has grown fond.
We know better but it’s too late
nobody listens anymore,
making the same old mistakes we did
trashing marriages and fighting wars.
Our poker is penny ante
like our income and politics,
others ended up with the money
while we were getting our kicks.
All of us have stood at the forefront
with weapons or tools in hand,
to build a better safer world
we never broke or ran.
Suffering mud and disrespect
long hours with aching feet,
facing up to the challenges
refusing to be beat.
Companies governments and exes
stripped us to the bone,
taking all we had salted away
even the comforts of home.
But we know for certain in our hearts
the kind of race we’ve run,
finishing without gain or glory
still convinced we won.
Because our nation stands intact
where our children are living free,
built with nerve and sweat and blood
and that’s reward enough for me.
Pay Now Or Later
Miracle Man
5-14-2022
Sin,
is like a credit card balance that isn’t settled monthly,
and the choice is ours. For sin, we can seek forgiveness,
becoming paid up, or watch it multiply,
and pay an exorbitant penalty forever,
in eternity.
My vacation prep consists
Of checking items off my lists.
Toiletries and extra socks?
One more pair of shoes, sans box.
Make-up? Check! A book to read?
More clothing than I really need.
An umbrella? Meds and snacks?
Passport? Chargers? (Can’t relax!)
Bills paid up and cards all sent?
Nothing left to thus lament.
Pencil and my writing pad?
The checking off is ironclad.
As the time to leave draws near,
One by one they disappear.
When I’m headed out the door,
My lists aren't needed anymore.
I wrote a poem years ago.
The content alludes me and its theme.
I recall It was written in Innsbruck Austria.
I was writing it while I ordered a dry martini;
they brought me the whole damn bottle
together with a huge bill!
I was young and trying hard to be sophisticated,
my German may have confused the wait-staff.
I paid up
then took the bottle back to the hotel.
Now I was left with no money left to eat
and I really loved the Vienna schnitzel.
The poem was not about all this at all,
I just remember I was very hungry
and the martini did not help.
If your best work is done at night,
Which is now no longer your right
With neighbors to to your right of you,
With neighbors to the left of you,
Neighbors on top of you
Who don't want to hear a sound out of you,
Before breakfast,
And if they do,
Your insurance had better be paid up,
In case the wrong people, you wake up.
If your best work is done at night,
While the moon is still bright,
And you passion for your work is at its lowest under sunlight,
It may be time for you to pack up,
Before you get too many backs up,
And head for places,
Where the neighbors to the right of you,
The neighbors to the left of you,
Are far enough away, not to hear the sound of you,
Or where the roar of the traffic,
Is horrific,
For the full twenty four hours,
And it is safe for you to work your normal hours.