Best Par For The Course Poems


Premium Member A Rant and a Few Laughs

THE DUMB BLONDE 

Our dumb blonde leader is a total buffoon
Living in cloud cuckoo land in his cocoon
His party's starved our N. H. S. 
Now the country is in a mess 
Thinks the flu virus will be over real soon... 

OUR CRACKPOT GOVERNMENT 

They wanted to create herd immunity 
Run covid - 19 through our community
Now that's a war crime 
They should all do time 
Par for the course, they'd all get impunity... 

(ON A LIGHTER Note) 

TIMMMY MCGEE 

There was an old man called Timmy McGee
Every day he'd drink a gallon of tea
One night forgot to do
His business on the loo
He woke up floating next morning in pee... 

HAPPY BUCK

There was an old man known as Happy Buck 
Loved loud music but he ran out of luck
Had earphones in each ear
Poor old Buck didn't hear
Approaching sound of a thirty ton truck... 

JED THE KEEPER

At the zoo a big cat keeper called Jed
Instead of meat tried to give them stale bread
They roared in defiance 
Poor Jed lost his balance 
One saw his chance and bit off his head...

BILLY GILL

The  dumb outlaws led by Billy Joe Gill
Bank and train robbery they had no skill
They tried to leave town
But they were tracked down
Now they all lie in a plot on Boot Hill... 





Written 2nd April 2020.

Premium Member Just Horsin' Around

Some airlines allow a small pet
To stop folk from getting upset
But a ‘comfort horse’
Isn’t par for the course
I’d challenge this airline’s mindset!

I’m allergic to animal fur
Of kitties who meow and purr
It would drive me insane
If pets were on my plane
I wonder do others concur!

2/19/20

https://news.sky.com/story/miniature-horse-called-fred-travels-first-class-on-american-airlines-flight-11937051

Premium Member Extra

Extra

There are two of us in the house now. 
Not four or six or eight. 
We have more than we need.
We have an abundance of…

How many jackets can we wear?
How many shoes for our feet?

How many blankets do we store and more?
Why do we have so much of this?
How did we get all of that?

Grab a box, bring a bag, 
Come let us hurry. 
There are others in need. 
This will be easy. 

Count the people, 
par for the course, 
that is the action,
that we must take. 

Stuff is just stuff until it is useful. 
It takes up space, and keeps you down. 
Let go! 

Others will say thank you, 
and be on about their way. 
But there lives will be better for, 
all that you have given… 
to the core, 
in his Holy name. 

Amen.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Par For the Course - a Bit Bawdy

There is a golfer from Lima, Peru
        On each of his balls, a llama tattooed
          Up and down his scores jump
          Like a llama's big hump
        As soon as his fans cheer, they have to boo

Premium Member Tricky Chirp

The Tricky Chirp

The nester bird comes to live, 
in a nest, they did not make. 
Yet... the bird, 
feels right at home 
and not alone at all.

The new mom seems surprised, 
she can not hide it from 
her eyes, 
but she continues on
like any mother would. 

The brand new baby is larger than the rest. 
Taking all the best, and putting the whole nest to the test.  
The sad secret of this new life,
this mock, "not my son" from afar... 
The more you give, the more they take.
It is a bad-tasting cake. 
The dark star is par for the course... and now the jar is empty.
There is no more left for those that belong, 
and that is all wrong.  

Eating the food, drinking the wine, 
and telling the time... 
to whom ever walks by
they said hi, 
and not high, 
or how high? 

The mother bird continues, 
wondering where father
has gone?
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

Cum Meditate With Me

Let's meditate & get high tell these physical bodies goodbye explore the universe time and space become closer than we have ever come face-to-face 
Feel my emotions and my energy force we've never been this deep its par for the course let's understand each other's fears and spiritual minds trust and believe there's climaxes of all kinds 
Let go and release meet me in the 5th dimension that's when our bodies don't matter because our spirits are in suspension I see your goals and aspirations too I truly get it now my twin flame and I are now one not two 
Jinxy we riding the same wave 96Hz with her knowledge she a flirt 528 day by day we keep our Bluetooth connected that way 
Once them spirits touch it's a whole different ball game and that's when your ex go from ol boy to what's his name


Frozen

Cold Hearted, ice-crusted, frozen, dead inside,
I thought I was immune 
but your stinging words cut my heart, I should take it in stride
Mean spirited, spiteful, ruthless, arrogant, obtuse
expected, accepted I should be use to this abuse
par for the course over a lifetime of sorrow
happy memories I cling to, clichés I borrow
repugnant and reconciled to callous, oversight
my bleeding tongue to stay the ire, I bite.
unspoken, unbidden pain, anger freshly awash
mourning for a childhood lost.
Blinded, enraged, still I hope
finding sardonic wit, sarcasm, my avenue to cope.
you abandon me at every turn
secretly for your approval and affection I yearn.
I want to be something you treasure
cherished, loved, a joy beyond measure.
But again I'm met with cold-hearted narcissistic indifference at heart 
painstakingly I lock away the storm that threatens to rip me apart
and quiet the thunder in my head
biding my time, pretending all is well, when all I see is intense red
You never gave me what I most needed
I had to bow to your wishes, my own unheeded.
You play the savior when it's to your avail
when stories of your mercies you can regale
Pompous, egocentric, grinches of grinches above all
I still hope your beloved, me you will call.
Now there's a new one that hangs on your every word as law
She watches you with love and adoration, her radiant face filled with awe.
When she was born, I had the fleeting thought
you might be to her, what to me you were not.
Your love and approval she tenaciously sought.
With every callous blow you harden her heart like you've done for so long
Always right, you can never be wrong.
Cold hearted narcissist I am done with pleas for love and affection
I'm done vying for your love and receiving rejection.
Now, the lesson you've imparted has been learned, scorned for many years
resignation has set, I've dried all my tears.
It should be easy to walk away from numbing pain
To settle my heart and ease my brain
I no longer mourn for what will never be
I no longer care if you love me.
Putting words to paper, made it all real
Anger and sadness remove, indifference reveal

Tea Cakes and Coffee Breaks

Monday morning coffee break
Everyone seems ill at ease
To be back working from eight to five

It almost seems the order of the day
For people to sit down and dissect human nature
Just to keep themselves alive

'Did you see what she was wearing'
'Did you hear what she said'
Its all par for the course I'm afraid

I sit amongst lives 
Happy to critise others
Rather than face the mistakes they might of made

The business of bitchiness
Has me reaching for my quiet room
Begging for a sun that wakes

To bring me solace and freedom
From whisperers and secrets 
On Tea cakes and Coffee breaks
© Jo Hayton  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member La La Land

Don't think everyone eats
Because you eat
Or drinks clean water 
Because you still can.

Don't think everyone has a bed 
On which to lay their head
Don't think there's a stove
Like yours in every household
Houses hold stuff.
Some people walk 
With all their stuff -in bags.
Gotta sleep with 
One eye open
Glad to have eyes.

And there are more and 
 more out
There with nowhere to be.
Cannot stand nor sit.
Glad to have a cell
Jail is their
Hotel. If lucky.

Don't think that- that bath 
You took is "par for the course"
Think outside of your door. 
Look outside of your window.
Laaaa deee da laaa dee da.

America isn’t happening no more
Now you lay it down to sleep,
Praying for your soul to be kept
The shorted verse is, “Jesus wept"
People sleeping 
On the ground and floors...
Even the shelters are closed.
How long can you hold on?
Facing the elements and the sun.
Living on the edge of hope.
Kill you for a bar of soap.

No medical nor food and now neglected.
No control over your own circumstances
Children no longer protected.
Living off others and depending on chance.
No one to give 
You that human touch
Dog eat dog.
"look at her"-
"She over der eating"'

Some have nothing 
Some have much. 
So much that;
They are not in touch
with the new reality.

"America ain't happening no more".

Singing la la la la..

Attacks on the ones 
who have too much-
Jealousy rises if you eat a lunch.

So just keep walking through
Singing- la dee d da la dee da.

Hey you in la la land. 
Watta yall going to do?

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2013

Premium Member Par For the Course

My sister Lucile sold her acoustic guitar
To buy a hot motor scooter with a sidecar
Her bad luck, they soon separated
On which she hadn’t calculated
But I said, “For her that’s definitely a par!” 

Written July 15, 2022

Premium Member La La Land

La la land
Don't think everyone eats
Because you eat
Or drinks clean water 
Because you still can.

Don't think everyone has a bed 
On which to lay their head
Don't think there's a stove
Like yours in every household
Houses hold stuff.
Some people walk 
With all their stuff -in bags.
Gotta sleep with 
One eye open
Glad to have eyes.

And there are more and 
 more out
There with nowhere to be.
Cannot stand nor sit.
Glad to have a cell
Jail is there
Hotel. If lucky.

Don't think that- that bath 
You took is "par for the course"
Think outside of your door. 
Look outside of your window.
Laaaa deee da laaa dee da.

America isn’t happening no more
Now you lay it down to sleep,
Praying for your soul to be kept
The shorted verse is, “Jesus wept"
People sleeping 
On the ground and floors...
Even the shelters are closed.
How long can you hold on?
Facing the elements and the sun.
Living in the edge of hope.
Kill you for a bar of soap.

No medical nor food and now neglected.
No control over your own circumstances
Children no longer protected.
Living off others and depending on chance.
No one to give 
You that human touch
Dog eat dog.
"look at her-
She over der eating"
Some have nothing 
Some have much. 
So much that 
They are not in touch
With the new reality.
"America ain't happening no more".

Singing la la la la..
Attacks on the ones 
who have too much-
Jealousy rises if you eat a lunch.
So just keep walking through
Singing- la dee d da la dee da.
Hey you in la la land. 
Watta yall going to do?

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2013

Fear of Violence Fill In the Blanks

Stop drop 
gun shot pop 
whoops to late 
hollow point penatrate 
your cranium N===='s.be blastin um 
like the wild wild west 
N===='s.ya don't wanta test 
roll up on ya quick as S=== wit 
Glocks cocked 1 in the chamber 
14 more in the clip 

Go ahead N==== start talkin S=== 
get your dumb A== pistil whipped 
Say what N==== make me squeeze my trigga 
Take your narrow A== and teach ya how ta dance 
wit 2 in the head N==== never had a chance 

Don't act like you got somethin that I won't take 
Get in my way fool end up at your own D=== wake 
I learned to solve my problems wit my fist 
Traded that S=== in for a Smith and Wesson 
now pay attention cause here come the lesson 

A real menace to society 
a product of hypocrisy 
my mind is twisted 
there's no remorse 
I'll stomp the S=== out ya N==== 
leave ya face down in the gutta 
M===== F===== that's par for the course 

so when I roll up on ya.N====.... 
give up the cash 
and don't start talking S=== 
cause your punk A== will get hit 
in a quick minute N==== so come on wit it 

West 55 Philly 
N===='s be ILLY 
make ya sleep wit a lily 
' RIP' above your name like I told ya 
from my hollow point that holed ya 
I be the trip that'll trip ya 
like the LSD someone slipped ya 
I be like the grim reaper 
I'll send ya 6 feet deeper 
ta see the crypt keeper 

rated R for violence
Fear, and violence as a result, but no truth behind the reasons, or thought for the solution

The Journey of Your Song

It's a lonely, truthful journey
 finding your voice, with which to sing,
 even worse, then there's the journey for your song;
 
but, we all sing from our essence
 to share the truths each heart may bring,
 so sing out loud, sing out clear, and sing out strong.
 
After a while, you may meet someone
 who may fancy the same "life tune",
 but, their performance of the song does not ring, true:
 
I can't emphasize enough, my friend
 that we all live the songs we choose,
 and that the melodies, and lyrics always falls on you.
 
That's why I sing the Blues these days,
 and feel as lonely as the moon,
 there's a certain honesty in reminding folks of pain;
 
and how next time it might be avoided
 by adding "blue-notes" to the tune,
 to draw attention, so it can't happen to us again.
 
Now, the other side of those "blue-notes
 is a more joyful, hopeful tune,
 to remind us that our hearts aren't always wrong;
 
it's merely "par for the course",
 to sing of both sweet love, and pain...
 ..but, that's the blues.....and that's the, Journey of Your Song.

The Day Guy Montreaux Died, Part I

Back in nineteen hundred and three
I working with a logging crew,
cutting and limbing mighty trees,
be they hemlock, pine, or spruce.

We worked for the Nowell Paper firm,
in the shades of the Adirondacks,
spent all winter in Camp Seven,
sending full sleds down icy tracks.

One morning in late December
we got up before the dawn,
that was just par for the course,
our work days were rather long.

We made it to the cook-house,
where waited the salt pork,
with flapjacks and potatoes fried,
we ate until enrgorged.

Then with a nod to the bull cook,
to let him know he’d done good,
we grabbed our axes, our crosscut saws,
and headed out into the woods.

By noon we worked a stump garden
we’d cleared back in the fall,
when we’d cut down the spruces
though a few still stood tall.

Those ones are the seed trees,
to make sure it grows again,
but the ones we felled we had cut
into fourteen-foot lengths.

Now in that deep chill of winter
we worked with our pike-poles,
hauling the logs to big sleds
drawn by horses, rather cold.

We stacked them for the ice road,
in air that made all shiver,
the teamster waited to haul it
all the way down to the river.

Now lumberjacks always work in pairs,
and my partner was Guy Montreaux,
a Quebecois better with an axe
than any farmer with a hoe.

He was quite an entertaining man,
lifted spirits in our shanties,
and knew the words to every bawdy song
ever sang in the north country.

On that grim day he huffed loudly,
having been put through his paces,
as he loaded up the last big log
a horse jolted back in its traces.

The equine kicked, the pile shook,
the teamster cried,’Get clear!”
Me and the boys all dove away,
filled with a familiar fear...

CONCLUDES IN PART II.

Premium Member Par For the Course

18 hole weekend golf
domesticity avoided
greatness eludes them

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