Best Parsons Poems
911 poem
I see flames and smoke
Terrorists thinking it a big joke
Sounds of eplosions in the air
Screams and cries are everywhere
Little children dying
At home the parents are crying
Sounds of sirens ring to my ears
The looks on peoples faces is fear
People jumping from buildings
Thinking there going to have a chance to live
Smoke is burning there eyes
hearing loud cries and sounds of breaking thighs
the smell of corps and the look of it,
you pray to god you dont have to go throught the pain and fear they went through
people sitting at home watching this tradgity
watching the deaths of other peoples families
you think your life is perfect until oneday
it all goes up in flames
by mandy parsons
Categories:
parsons, losshome, fear, home,
Form:
It was in eighteen eighty-six in the streets of Chicago,
where the greatest miscarriage of justice people would know
transpired in an infamous labor-police rendezvous.
Albert Parsons led eighty thousand people on revue.
The strikers marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue.
The Knights of Labor were sponsors for the work stoppage venue.
Demands for shorter work hours and no child labor were made.
This would be regarded as the world’s first May Day parade.
Thousands nationwide would join in with the activities
In the next few days, the striking workers stopped whole industries.
On the third, some strikers and police engaged in melees.
These actions resulted in two ill-fated fatalities.
The struggles also caused some severe hideous injuries.
The fights took place at the McCormick Harvester Company.
Many held the police for murderous culpability.
Organizers from the Knights of Labor held a mass rally
at the Haymarket in Chicago’s West Loop vicinity.
They would assemble there in the early part of May.
Thousands crowded there peacefully on the month’s fourth day.
Leaflets were passed noting the police for murder to the crowd
as anarchists urged the mobs to join forces and shout aloud.
A bomb thrown at the police catalyzed an altercation.
One officer was killed and others hurt in the explosion.
Matthias Degan was the officer fallen in duty.
Seven other policemen died later from an injury.
The police opened fire on the people immediately.
At least eleven of the strikers were shot at fatally.
Eight men stood trial for the death of police officer Degan.
They were Parsons, August Spies, George Engel, Samuel Fielden,
Adolf Fischer, Louis Lingg, Michael Schwab, and Oscar Neebe.
All eight were tried and found guilty by a judge and jury.
Neebe got fifteen years; the others got the death penalty.
Schwab and Fielden were commuted to life; then got clemency.
Lingg took his own life before his scheduled execution.
The remaining four men were hanged in public exhibition.
Since then, there have been enacted many labor reform laws
The men who died are considered martyrs to a noble cause.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this
poem.
Categories:
parsons, history, death, men, work,
Form:
Rhyme
Quietly recalling
Those few days long past
Where night rose undisturbed
Allowed to live in solitude
Distant from the hum of the city
And the glare of its radiance
For here silence is silence
And dusk mutes the mountainside
Giving fearful pause even to dawns eye
In the pallid glow of moonlight
Stand the great Ponderosa Pines
Veiled shadows of ominous parsons
Resolutely guarding midnight faith
Sweet tendrils of vanilla incense
Wafting on Rocky Mountain breezes
Like passions vogue allegory
A smooth and round obsidian stone
Washed upon a retracted beach
My modest moment of reality
Smoothed over by times hands
On this mountain lake…
…Settling me to begin anew
Categories:
parsons, hope, imagination, introspection, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Ancient and modern is this heartbeat
of a kingdom of four territories;
becoming the first biter to the endocarp of industrialization;
the first host to a global carnival of sports;
running the eldest of all notable department stores
and oldest without aging is one of its publishing houses.
A historic accumulator of colonies
with a spoken identity well pumped into different parts of the world
which has married diplomacy, economy and finance
to give global relevance to anyone who acquires it.
Even with this huge dominance,
Its initial lingua franca was
an adoption from its southern neighbor.
From Winchester to London, the route of its history is endless
Wwth the Lincoln cathedral the first overtaker
of the great pyramid of Gaza in an increasing participating race
and the first caster of the globe’s lifeless identity in Aluminium.
It’s a relentless consumer of Tea
having agents of law enforcement surprisingly not needing weapons
only but in situations of an adrenaline rush.
This defined region also has shoulders high above all others
in space and capacity showcased by Hay-on-Wye,
in dimensions and height, exhibited by Nature’s craft in Avebury,
in the size of a residence of royalty decorated in Windsor,
in numerical value of products traded in Harry ramsden
and a proud member of the starters’ club
in the creation of transportation mediums through rails.
The home of technology’s birth
and the courtyard where science is entertained
which is both less and greater than Thomas Harriot;
smiling when Christopher Merret and the Champagne
both got registered in history’s dairy.
The contribution of William Dockwra through stamps;
the excellence of Charles parsons shown in the stream turbine;
and the magic of Bletchley park
exhibited through the wonders of the colossus
are a fascinating fraction of a wing of its colourful feathers.
If these praises should spread online
The entire world of the internet has among others, Tim Berners to thank.
Categories:
parsons, earth, social, society,
Form:
Ode
Here he comes again
The keyboard pounder on the loose
Sure wish he’d learn to type
Without the finger abuse
Or overuse of
The Backspace key
Don’t smack me
I didn’t lose your pictures
You should have backed them up
Before you opened that attachment
And invited that worm
Into my circuitry
You bum
Go get some medicine
And wipe that nose mist
Off my monitor
That’s disgusting
Don’t open that file
Here comes that Trojan Horse
You’re on your own now
I just don’t care anymore
Hey, who are you
Where’d my user go
What’s that CD you’re shoving in me
My memory
My memory
My mem…………..
Hello
Welcome to Windows
© 2015 Earl Parsons
Categories:
parsons, computer, humor, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
It's all your fault
Charles Mortington Parsons
Designer of landscapes
Extraordinaire
That no one has a sense of time anymore
Green lawns appear
Instantly overnight
Tall trees grow
In a morning or an afternoon
Mother nature
Stacked tastefully
Between terracotta bookends
And it's all your doing
Charles Mortington Parsons
Categories:
parsons, time,
Form:
Free verse
I feel that funny bulge a tingle
The mouth was craving for
Doritos and Pringle
Burger King has become the norm
This belly here is weathering hunger's Storm
French Fries Haven
for an old lard unshaven
I'm too late for a Spanish cutie
A fan of grease and some tutti-frutti
Enters the area that I call the throat
Ring Dings and cupcakes
soon they will coat
the layer of fatty flab
by forgetting the diet TAB
Bimbos love A HUNK
But not a dweeb of proportionate CHUNK
A little blueberry POP TART
For the tongue of this aging FART
Cannot savor if you give me that LIFE SAVOR
Leave me with Orville Redenbacher
If you would do me that kindly favor
We all have a thing
for munching on ONION RING
Pass the 1A
and some hamburgers our way
Flavor the bacon
scramble the egg
Mrs Parsons is 25
But already shows it in her leg
Margot sucks on a chip
All she is doing by enlarging her hip
Scotty is being naughty
That's why he's forever on the potty
Frank's sitting on the log
enjoying some HOT DOG
Patty has left for the day
before the OREOS come her way
The end is near
I feel it in my rear
As my once trim line turns jelly
From having too much junk food in my belly!!
Categories:
parsons, funny, me, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Nearby, drained, workaday faces pass by:
Working people with working class woe:
Faces bent in suffering, near hopelessness, made indiscriminate rue.
But turn on the car radio as the people pass by within earshot:
Music escaping from the radio,
Like the paradisal bird escaping from the
Proverbial gilded cage:
The otherworldly, mesmerisingly liberating rock, blues, jazz, and
Poetry of the Doors;
The antic, agonized meditations and harmonies, the unfettered idealism and
Humanity, the driving, rocking rhythm of the songs of John Lennon;
The rustic, soaring harmonies, the heartfelt, universal humanity of the
"Cosmic American Music" of LA "rhinestone cowboy" Gram Parsons:
Working class faces passing by, suddenly smiling, happy looking for
The first time that day, Spirit enduring, Victory assured.
Categories:
parsons, music, work,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Affleck, Bailey, Banneker, Bernanke, Big, Blue,
Button, Crenshaw, Disraeli, Dover, Folds, Franklin,
Gazzara, Goodman, Graham, Harper, Harrison, Hogan,
Kingsley, Johnson, Kweller, Netanyahu, Parsons,
Roethlisberger, Spock, Stein, Stiller, Turpin, Uncle, Vereen,
… and Jerry
Categories:
parsons, funny
Form:
Free verse
A black cat didn't exactly frighten Gavin
He initially jumped kinda lightly, Mom
Now, Ola Parsons quickly responds, saying
The ugly varmint wanted xeroxed yellow Zinnias
Categories:
parsons, animals, funny, people
Form:
ABC
Row after row they all look the same
Fading white marble with name after name
Grass growing slowly, groomed by the week
Occasional strangers; other names that they seek
Lying in wait, no one seeks my stone
No tears shed for me as I lay alone
Alone with thousands of souls just like me
Thousands who fell for the land of the free
A land that I love, and gave all to defend
And now I lay waiting for a loved one or friend
Loved ones or friends that so rarely stop by
Forgotten I lay here not understanding why
I sacrificed it all to keep freedom alive
My spirit cries out with a plea to survive
At least in the memories of those left behind
While I lay here waiting, entombed, confined
Unable to do much more than reminisce
About family and friends and everything that I miss
My memory is sharp; my whole life I recall
From the day I was born ‘til the day I gave all
Thoughts run willy-nilly always through my head
My body is wasting, though my mind is not dead
But now I am saddened as I lay here alone
Waiting for anyone to stop at my stone
Earl Parsons
Copyright © Earl Parsons 2012
Categories:
parsons, death, grave, hero, military,
Form:
Free verse
Hedda Hopper
wore many a fancy topper.
Louella Parsons hated her guts,
no ifs, ands, or buts.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for
information I obtained to write this clerihew.
June 27, 2013
Categories:
parsons, dedication, tribute,
Form:
Clerihew
The physicist Sheldon Lee Cooper -
I’d call him a big party pooper!
He doesn’t like dancing
or even romancing.
His chats put you into a stupor!
April 2, 2022
For Joseph May's 'On A Lim' Poetry Contest
Character is Sheldon from BIG BANG THEORY.
Now that the original show is off the air, I really enjoy YOUNG SHELDON,
which is narrated by the character who plays the older Sheldon, Jim Parsons
(A highly intelligent character, he is extremely boring to most normal people!!)
Categories:
parsons, character,
Form:
Limerick
this is my own experience it happened to me.
There is an eye similar to the Alan Parsons project on my door,
Also when I attend group the Matre on the door template read Parsons
I'm haunted almost every night toward a demonic entitity that shakes my bed
it will pick my body up and move me toward parts of my room
Based on the life and work of the great author and poet, Edgar Allan Poe.
The later re-issue on CD (in 1987) was re-mixed from the original master tapes enhancing some of the tracks and including the Orson Welles narration, recorded for the original launch of the album in 1976.
From listening to the songs on the Alan Parson's project I felt its awareness
Specifically, "The Eye Of The Sky" it got me thinking about an outer body experience.
Maybe it's just me but that's just how I feel about the project.
Categories:
parsons, anxiety, art,
Form:
Free verse
Today, even the hills seem blue.
Unhappiness is just happiness ~
being torn to shreds by you.
Bartleby: "I would prefer not to."
Lawyer: "But Bartleby, you've got to.
Pull yourself together, somehow,
and make a copy for me. Right now.
It's your sad lot to."
Bartleby: "I would prefer not to."
Someone stomped on my heart with their feet.
There's the red blotch ~ on their soiled bed sheet.
Doesn't look like a heart anymore ~
more like an open, festering sore.
And ~ I'm not waiting around for a repeat.
You know what I wish for the most?
That we could drive once more up the California coast,
listening to Emmylou Harris, Gram Parsons, and John Prine,
with me holding your hand, and you holding mine,
and not stopping ~ till we had safely crossed the fault line.
Here we are, finally at our loose ends,
with no more possibility for amends.
Our love's edges just got too frayed
for anyone to be able to come to our aide ~
no elf or fairy ~ who sews up, patches, or mends.
From Barcelona, she shipped me boots of Spanish leather,
with a note that said, "So you might get to understand Bob Dylan better."
And that's the last word
from her I ever heard,
and sadly, we never listened to Bob Dylan again together.
I made an appointment with me.
I was in need of some clarity.
I needed to know why it was
I felt like I was a lost cause.
And boy, did she act snottily.
The old tree on which I carved your name? ~
during last week's windstorm, down it came.
That staunch, indomitable oak,
that saw you prod and watched me poke,
is firewood now, ready for the flame.
Categories:
parsons, blue, heartbreak, how i
Form:
Rhyme