Best Panned Poems
Of this, I've always wanted to write
How hard it is to grow up white
The very idea makes people uptight
Enough to cause a gigantic fight...
In this, the age of the diverse
There isn't much that could be worse
White skin's a plague, a veritable curse
It almost seems to be perverse...
So I've put this off as long as I can
Knowing the flames that it would fan
And how it would be roundly panned
If not utterly and completely banned...
Yet now's the time for a principled stand
This is the moment; here is my plan:
I stroll every day 'neath the sun in the sand
~ To turn my stubbornly white skin tan
September 05, 2019
Write the Poem You Have Always Wanted To Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Splatter painted, Pollock blessed, leggy I stand,
among the green grass and healing Plantain
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
A walking canvas in the meadowland
stems, humorously stippled to entertain
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
Blush brushed by daylight, a cheeky garland;
a stand bloomed within thin skinned constraints
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Pistils between petals unknown unplanned,
joyous the sound of honey bees restrained,
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
A plantigrade intrusion, a new brand
surface mounted digits adorned prearranged
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
So bright the upright parts, so very grand
one can but dream the crown gloriously manned
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Mused: Bella online Literary Review Winter 2015
I’ll never forget my first day at primary school
You bounded into the classroom, flashing a gap tooth smile
With your blonde curly hair and blue eyes, I was smitten
My first crush at the tender age of five!
Over the years we became inseparable
Then one day you told me terrible news
Your dad had a promotion and you were leaving the area
We both sobbed buckets of tears and vowed to stay in touch.
Letters flew between us like arrows, then suddenly they stopped
Years passed and I married then subsequently divorced
When moving house I came across your letters
I’d kept them in an old shoebox, they were tied with blue ribbon.
I sat reminiscing wondering how your life had panned out
Months later I joined friends re-united -
To my amazement I found your name
I was overjoyed when you replied to my contact
We had so much to talk about and a lot of catching up to do
I was hesitant when you suggested meeting
Would those childhood feelings still be the same?
The minute I saw you at the station my heart pounded
Still the same steel blue eyes, but a lot less hair!
We talked late into the small hours of the night
and when we kissed … I felt like a teenager again!
We had a whirlwind romance and married three months later
So blissfully happy, making up for lost time …
Until
Until ….the day you’d gone to buy my birthday present
Normally we’d have been together but you wanted to surprise me
You kissed my cheek, drove off on your motorbike into the distance
My memory of what happened next is so hazy
All I remember is a knock on the door
Two policemen were standing there
… I started to scream
N/A in A love lost then found, only to lose again Contest
judged on 08~26~16
FICTIONAL WRITE FOR CONTEST
07~27~16
He's just an ol' cowboy
With a heart big as the whole out of doors.
But time has exchanged
His home on the range,
For a garden and five acres to mow.
He still rides the range,
Each day at three,
With John Wayne, Gabby or Tex,
When he closes his eyes he's there by their side,
Somewhere out in the west.
He's there in spring
At the rendezvous site,
When the mountain men all converge,
He'll share their whiskey, adventures and lies,
Till they give into that wandering urge.
He spent one winter
In the mountains way high,
His cabin the size of a den.
He was cozy and warm, tucked safe from the storm,
Until a commercial cut in.
He was there when Jessie, Frank and the gang,
Hit the bank in a small Kansas town,
He ran for the sheriff
Drew his six guns and waited,
Expecting to mow them all down.
On trails he did ride
With Goodnight and Chisum,
His job, To bring in the strays.
Like a coyote he'd croon by the light of the moon
To the cattle at the end of the day.
He froze in Alaska as he panned for gold,
Burned brown as the prairies he trod,
Fell along side Jim Bowie
At the Old Alamo,
And is buried deep 'neath the Lone Star sod.
He tried to avoid the Indian wars,
But rode with Reno
At the Little Big Horn,
The chaos he saw made his skin crawl
And wasn't ashamed as he knelt there and bawled.
His days they were great,
And granted still are,
For he met a new friend today.
He walked by a bookstore, saw Louie Lamour
Now new adventures are coming his way.
He sits in his chair with a confident air
And turns on his TV at three.
He rides with his friends
Till the commercial cuts in
Then he takes out Ol' Louie and reads.
Cile Beer
written l990
The word of discovery of gold in '49 in Californy raced across the nation!
Why, it was said you could fill a bushel basket full with little botheration!
This appealed to a young feller in Boston town named Clancy Wiggins,
Who forthwith trailed the sun west to help himself to his share of diggin's!
In them days to make the trek you had a choice of travelin' by land or sea.
He chose the sea carin' not a whit for wagon trains or tanglin' with Cherokee!
Clancy left his mom and dad, Spike his dog and Sarah Jane his fiancee,
Fixin' to strike it rich, return safe and sound to marry-up with her one day!
In March of '49 he boarded the ship Barnacle and sailed from the Boston quay.
'Twas cold and icy, the sea was rough, he was sea-sick, not a cheerful day.
They tacked to and fro and three months later transited perilous Cape Horn!
Four months later they reached San Francisco, both man and ship badly worn!
Clancy bounded off the ship anxious to head fer them thar hills and streams.
He bought the necessaries needed to accomplish his far-fetched dreams.
Includin' shovels, boots, jeans and grub as well as a sassy mule named Fred,
Plus pots and pans and a tent to 'batch' in to lower costs and overhead.
Fer nigh on a year he panned, dug and sluiced searchin' fer that pot of gold,
Sufferin' claim jumpers, cheatin' partners, floods, rain, snow and cold!
Now and then he'd pan some dust or a nugget, but didn't amount to much;
What he found he quickly blew on gamblin' whiskey, wimmin and such!
His venture didn't 'pan out' like them lying Californy hucksters said it might.
He sold Fred and his belongin's since his future as a miner didn't look bright.
Clancy left Boston with 21 bucks and left Californy with 18 bucks in his jeans.
It might be said that he didn't arrive back in Boston as a man of means!
Down in Sonoma, down on my luck
Needing a horse, down to my last buck
Man said 'That Pallo he's the devil to ride
You can have him for the shotgun by your side'.
'Throw in the saddle,' I said, 'You got a deal'
I was raised a rebel, I know how he feels
The horse studied me, I understood him,
We knew things could never be the same.
I rode him across the plains, I rode him through snows and rains
I rode him like a bullet train and he never never once complained.
I rode him through rough terrains, I rode him down ragged lanes
White tail, white flowing mane, you will never see his like again.
The years rolled by for Pallo and me
Worked open ranges but loved breaking free
Mount Baker gold rush at the Lone Jack mine
We were cold and hungry and close to dying.
Then among the stones glory to behold
Good God Almighty, I panned me some gold
Sold my stake to some desperate men
Then rode with my money like the wind.
I rode him across the plains, I rode him through snows and rains
I rode him like a bullet train and he never never once complained.
I rode him through rough terrains, I rode him down ragged lanes
White tail white flowing mane, you will never see his like again.
Then came the deathly whistling sound
A sniper's bullets dropped us to the ground
Laid there with his head across my knee
I swear that he was smiling back at me.
All those good times running through his mind
I knew he'd be willing, he knew I'd be kind
Four more bullets and our lives were gone
We rose again under a different sun
I ride him across the plains, I ride him through snows and rains
I ride him like a bullet train and he never never once complains.
I ride him through rough terrains, I ride him down ragged lanes
Grey ghosts on some spectral plane, as I ride my sacred horse again.
SEE/HEAR ME SING THIS ON YOUTUBE. LOUIS SPENCE & GRAHAM BROTTON PALAMINO. Thank you.
football
is all
crowd roars
kick soars
a pass
at last
man cave
men crave
cold ones
at once
demand
she panned
but serve
the beer
and chips
for dips
hubby
must pee
walks out
on lout
and shops
till drops
lonely
lady
returns
and learns
the lout
passed out
flat beer
oh dear
the game
now tame
half time
her time
clap hands
to bands
the game
what game!
By The Book
(a monoku series)
someone once called me a walking dictionary they must think i'm thick
i have been told that it has been said i use the passive voice a lot
critics panned my book, "dearth" it's okay, it means very little to me
...but thanks for your kind review of my book, "plethora" it means a lot
...and for buying my new book, "omniscient" it means more than you know
...i'm so glad you liked my epic poem "earth" that means the world to me
Dream on
Be it white rabbit holes of wonderlands
Or black holes of never-here flounder lands ,
Dreaming on and on
Vaunted webs they spawn
In this ‘ uni-verse’ that ever expands*.
Expanding like vapor, fluff and free verse
In eccentric quest, new frontiers traverse
Dreamlands roaming
Ideas beaming
Procreating, creating things diverse.
Diverse, like what is extant, are all stuff
From the nutsy-feverish heads of buffs
Their ways are damn strange
Their worlds like deranged
Salt of earth, they are, above all rebuff.
Kneading up, weeding and leading the earth
Right , left or centre , ever, two cents worth
Although they grandstand
And get praised or panned
Of their wisdom, world should not be in dearth.
*Science tells that the universe keeps on expanding by itself.
Black hole is a region in space- time whose gravity field is too strong for anything including light to escape from it.
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
22 jul 2013, Limerick
A British designer of clothing and such
Is showing an outfit a bit out of touch
It’s all made of leather but that’s not my beef
It’s straight from a cow but from far underneath
She wanted some leather but did not want to pay
She heard that the tanners threw nipples away
She gathered up nipples; 3000 in all
And stitched up a gown for the next Cow Town Ball
She fashioned the nipples into genteel rosettes
A floor-length leather gown for the disarming coquette
But the critics all panned it all over the joint
The designer just sighed; said they don’t get the point
The critics replied, that is all that we see
And a dress made of nipples is pointless to me
But the British designer said she’d try another
And this time use more than the tip of the udder
Mdailey 9/6/12
Google Rachel Freire to see her designs.
The two Cowboys stood at the cliff of a great divide.
Jacob stood, starring across the opening with Bill still
in his saddle, close by his side. The rocky scene was like
A kaleidoscope, every color, ever known.
Is there any other place you would rather be Bill?
Bill said, No Jacob, I don't believe so.
Jacob slowly, climbed back on to his horse and pulled the
reins and headed North. He started whistling a happy note
and Bill listened as he followed Jacob to the valley
slope.
Deadwood City here we come, looking for gold and lots of fun,
Jacob shouted! Yep, Bill shouted back, and we need to keep us
a fully loaded gun. The Cowboys laughed out loud as they rode on.
The Cowboys knew Deadwood could make a man so very rich
and they had contracted the gold fever itch. The day's travel was
so very long and hot, and the sun began to sink below the mountain's
amber, rugged tops.
They found a place to camp before nightfall and how that fire crackled
as they ate beans and corn fritters, and over coffee talked.
You know Bill, said Jacob. One Summer could set us straight and you
could pay off the old farm and fix that crooked gate.
Yeah, Bill responded and then you could marry Jenny. Maybe start
a family and maybe even buy the Ole Mill. Yeah, said Jacob, so surreal.
The Cowboys lay starring at the stars in the sky that clear, crisp night
and dreamed of all the things that gold could buy them, until daylight.
The Cowboys made Deadwood and Oh, the sights they seen.
They panned every river and every stream. Then at summer's end
they cashed it all in and headed back to Tennessee, to live out their lives
and share with their family the story of their Deadwood dreams.
Glitterin' gold wuz struck along Alder's Gulch in eighteen sixty-three!
Potential prospectors came frum as fer away as Knoxville, Tenn-o-see!
Hordes uv soiled doves and gamblers migrated to the Gulch as well,
Along with platoons uv ruffians and barkeeps, their potent booze to sell!
Fellers labored hard all week pickin' and a-shovelin' at their claim.
But Sundays wuz set aside to raise 'oly 'ell, much uv it to their shame!
Baptist preachers thumped their Bibles tryin' to preach above the din.
There warn't no churches so they preached in saloons aginst the wages uv sin!
Hurdy-gurdy gals roamed about 'neath the steely-eyed gaze uv their 'madam'.
Guns and bowie knives wuz rife and wuz brandished by the dudes that had 'em!
Brawls erupted resultin' in blackened eyes and numerous bloodied noses,
Leavin' heaps uv rowdies sprawled on sawdust floors in grotesque poses!
Pie-aner players added to the din beltin' out their bawdy songs!
Preachers gave up and said to 'ell with it and joined the festive throngs!
Poker games wuz proceedin' in ever' saloon, usually endin' in a ruckus,
Since there seemed to be an excess uv aces held by some cheatin' cuss!
Fallin' down drunks wuz nuisances that bouncers simply booted out the door,
But they somehow meandered to another pub to imbibe a little more!
On Sundays they had their spree - on Mondays though sick and broke,
They panned fer 'dust fer another Sabbath frolic - the aim uv ever' bloke!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
In bridled hovel on denuded strand
Tanned damsel loiters on barter stand
Waiting for purloined fealty her title to brand
Festooned in ritual garb, decked with lavish garland
As noble peacock, her fecund colors are fanned
Waiting eligible suitors her utility, virility to scan
Her father a lofty price doth rightly command
To root out pilfering charlatan, worthless brigand
A reputable family with aspirations noble, grand
Bids for the honor of reticent, sheltered hand
Her elder for propriety doth initial offers withstand
Until the esteemed value of his ward family doth understand
A suitable piece of fertile lowland he indignantly demands
In order his tribal status and perpetuity to expand
With gratuitous stipend in token parlance panned
In customary deference, contrite bride accepts husband
The tale now starts to fling enchant,
Let mind and heart surge piquant pun.
Seer of Greek lore strides in time lost,
Reminds of yore what foresight costs.
My eyes have seen the goddess bathe,
Spy the unseen this foolish knave.
Yet Zeus gave me sight in insight
To live more free than in the light.
Once I could see, now I am blind;
How could it be? this strange design.
I am a male cursed as female;
The telling tale forged and unveiled.
I Tiresias, blind seer and sage
Glimpsed all but fear till ripe old age.
I counseled kings who sought my gift
In sorrow's fling to tend uplift.
Wisdom can cure the ills of pain,
Yet it's allure fails my constraints.
I can give aid to those who find
Me to lift dread yet I am blind.
For seven years I was woman,
Changed to appear for offense panned;
Penance did bring a sensuous mind,
Yet bore offsprings for kin and kind.
Oedipus sought my advice then,
To ease vain naught to right attend.
Odysseus asked for a path home,
To bear the tasks, no more to roam.
Tiresias walks with blindness yet,
For poison talks in waters set.
Now in Hades, this seer of old
Strides still ready to speak so bold.
Mister Eliot did consult this gaze,
In Wasteland midst as chaos filled maze.
So you and I see spectacle
In weary sighs sans oracle.
Now tale is bought as fancy frees
That simple plot that helps us see.
Such modern times seem squalid pale
With awkward rhymes in frigid tale.
Tiresias gropes the underworld
Waiting to scope insights that swirl.
Sense new affairs that attend here,
Dense breathe of air can cloud our fears.
Leon Enriquez
17 December 2014
Singapore
Strolling along Myrtle Beach
Collecting shells in the sand
The waves become hypnotic
And the mood moves into grand.
So many thoughts and memories
Come rushing back with the waves
Thoughts that flood and can’t be stopped,
Some get panned, but some are raves.
Again and again
They flow in and out
Life reliving every decision
Life reliving every doubt.
Then sanity reasserts
For the mind knows what it knows
And hypnosis grinds to a halt
With the sand between my toes.
By E. Marshall Evans