Best Parties Poems
Umbrellas, brooms, chickens
All they offer us to hope for
Dying dreams
Women Bartender Parties
Their eyes watched
the bartender,
like a tennis ball,
volleying to each side,
bouncing, soft like
from side to side
of the bar, filling drinks
and old men's hearts
with wet dreams,
prompting the men
on gathering closer
to the campfire.
She was hot.
Their necks stretched,
minds made pseudo
claims, and mouths watered
of her effect.
She was young and new,
and too studious.
A librarian by day,
layers of academia,
flowing through her veins-
you could see that
she was smart, yet sassy.
There was no hiding, though,
the biker girl behind
those glasses, hair
in a bun, and brass demeanor.
She made sashay look
pedestrian.
She could compete with
a New York model
with her providence,
long arms and legs,
and a longer neck,
that likely sprung
a gasket in her admirers.
Would she lie?
When she gained wind
of whispering old men,
poking the shortness
of her denim shorts
she tickled their fancies.
"Is my vagina sticking out,"
as she checked her shorts,
innocence oozing from her
and sending old men's
watering hole to rise.
She was a frolicking horse
that put all the other
bar's bartenders to pasture.
She continued pouring
drinks, like how pouring rain-
rescues drought stricken
crops. She had that effect.
When she saddled next
to an old man, lucky one
at that, her gray eyes
boring into his browns,
as they split the night air
into little gifts,
exchanging presents
of knowledge of each other,
you could see his horses
neighing, too, nudging
to get out of the stables.
Did she say she was writing
a book?
He doesn't remember.
He remembers
seeing a moon flower.
She continued serving rain,
while the jukebox played
and the patrons swayed,
exchanging banter with each.
Moments later she did
the unthinkable-no
it wasn't a red scarlet.
Or connotative.
She drank, which is taboo,
matching shots of Royal,
three, with the old man,
while not missing a beat,
holding her liquor well,
and turning back his hands
............. of time.
connie pachecho
4/20/17
Move on, my friend
Raise your right hand
To move on, to concede
Wasting your time will lead
To nothing, nichts, niente, nada
Do it for the soul of America.
Stop wasting your energy
Stop the lies and the anomaly
A real man accepts defeat
Hey dude, you got beat
You lost, you’re defeated
Stop being too conceited.
Hit the road Jack. Move on
The world wants a confession
Dude, you’re losing power daily
Like a cheap antiquated battery
Hit the road. Quit being a nag
It’s time to raise the white flag.
Don’t try a stupid coup d’état
Because you’ll fail like a lama
Let America be proud again
This is a new era, a new season
It’s time to quit. Hit the road Jack
Move on. Please don’t comeback.
Subpoena are coming
Convictions are forthcoming
Shame is arguably disgusting
Real people are singing and laughing
This is another day in America
This is shocking blah, blag, blah!
P.S. Political satire.
Copyright © November 2020, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books.
If by some coup of divine luck I had to wisely say,
I would enlighten you around your exquisite way.
Notwithstanding, they appear to slip from my grip,
Wet wails are set down, and they correctly air slip.
No, I'm not leastwise, going to attempt,
The gentle words solace me while I wept.
With each murmur, they scream in agony,
The conflict with each peek and squinny.
Finding meaning is beyond difficult while composing,
Others sentiments and erratic behavior in portraying.
It scarcely appears to be enthusiastic and precarious,
They abet in the expression of regret and terrible sadness.
At this point, not a wellhead of bother in my life,
It's not a potential benefit, tragically but strife.
Uplifting affirmations and dominant motivation,
The broke advantages of the historic mansion.
The text reveals a likely path to heaven,
It's up to them to halt what's in regression.
I don't have any power while I'm creating,
I only host the party, and words start coming.
Kindly be sure to write as regards to me,
I'm a poem provide me a spot to see.
I'll unfurl, and I hope to receive gold,
My story is being related but not sold.
Written: April 25, 2022
1st place contest winner
POEM ON POETRY MUSE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
the greenland shark can be seen around greenland
and the brain begins to slow at 24
my brain fully developed in primary school
but my face has yet to do so
toxins in the air juxtaposed with the fermi paradox
rivers of mercury and winston churchill's parrot
i want to move to monaco
where all the mitochondria gyrates
the school don't ask me to host the christmas party
they ask the long-legged wood elf of a pe teacher
but i'm teaching romanticism
and still want to join the circus
we must decide to stop pollution before it to late, natures struggling it won't wait!
misuse of fossil fuel, deforestation, habitat destruction, plastics, failing to recycle is sealing our fate!
that is what the green party environmentalists are always preaching, you bet their fretting!
climate warming, no, climate warning, look, the green party their pants they are wetting!
i will speak on their behalf for they are right, we should all fear!
next general election vote them in, don't wait to hear the tories say, "oh dear"!
labour once a cracking party, still is, check out all it's splits!
most thought it favoured green, with good intent, now a load of silly gits!
lib dems, omg! nearly lost it all, have to get their act together,
in fact, stop acting, live life for real, throw away their tickling feather!
next time, what ever party gets into power must remember the clock is nearing midnight!
were not talking Cinderellas glass slipper, we are talking cinder hell ahs! right!
mass extinction, yep, all seven point three billion in one big puff!
let us not forget all the other fauna, flora, all that stuff!
we can talk parties all night and day, parties talking fun, done!
facing self-destructing, come on, poll lotion, rub it in, life can be fun!
Do I believe in change?
I do, for when I first meet
a love, can not be made until
a change comes from both
parties involved.
Then the promises for tomorrow
come we are much wiser at this
point we finally fill love with joys
of yesterdays, today's and tomorrow's.
Then our love becomes a memory forever.
"Is there anyone for stuffing?
Well done George, send us down your plate,
Auntie, if you've finished with the cranberry sauce
Could you please pass it across to Kate?"
"Brian can I interest you in my brussels?
There's nothing quite like a good sprout,
If anyone wants anything passed,
Don’t wait to be asked, just shout."
"Richard, will you please sit and eat,
And just stop irritating Claire,
No, you better wash your hands first,
You're getting gravy in her hair."
"Ted, you wanted more potatoes,
What, you only want one or two?
But the ones left really aren’t that big,
I'd better pile on a few."
"Sarah, you're not looking after your young man,
The poor boy's been left to starve,
Go and get him some more turkey dear,
Your father will help you to carve."
“Malcolm, not too much in Grandma’s glass,
You know what she gets like,
Open another red for Father,
I’ll stick to the bubbly-white.”
"Well if everybody's had enough,
I think I'd better finish the peas,
Richard, don't cough over the table,
Remember your manners, please."
"Ah, make way for Father and the Christmas pud,
I hope he hasn't overdone the brandy,
Saints preserve us ... Father’s on fire ..!!
Oh, well smothered dear, three cheers for Mandy,
Hip, hip, hooray,
Hip, hip, hooray,
Hip, hip, hooray."
"No, Louise, you can't pull the crackers yet,
We're saving those for tea,
Richard, take that stupid tinsel off your head,
And put it back on the tree.”
“Everyone go in the other room and play games,
Just leave all the dishes to me,
I’ll do the washing and drying up,
While I’m sorting out something for tea.”
“Richard please don’t tease the dog,
Claire don’t pin that tail on the cats,
Lloyd, play nicely, stop fighting with Louise,
You’re ruckling up all of the mats.”
“Hmmmnn … not quite enough sherry in this trifle,
Hick … I think there’s probably more in me,
I’m sure I’ve been working far too hard,
Hick … I’m feeling quite dizzy.”
“They say that Christmas comes but once a year
And aren’t I just glad that’s so,
It’s nice to see all of them for a while,
But it’s even better to see them go …”
Between two parties Ron Paul openly stands,
a Libertarian running for the GOP nomination.
Wealthy Mitt Romney stealthily switches brands;
a liberal disguised as a Republican I’ll shun.
*For Gwen's Chastushka contest
Twinkle twinkle, the lights red blue and green,
On the end of the week, twilight evening scene.
The partygoers emerge, stardust in their eyes,
Like the sunshine glare on golden butterflies!
The end of a long day, withal the end of a week,
Sequins after sunset, and full moon of mystique.
My working days behind me, stars shine so bright,
Along with many yellow orange and purple lights!
At parties - all my colleagues look so funny,
And very often to an embarrassing degree.
I take their pictures absolutely free,
But I delete these photos for some money.
Is every politician just interested in cash
It seems their lives are all corrupt and filled with so much trash
Is it just two parties where they’re laughing deep inside
They voted their own paycheck in so they could take a ride
They spend all of our money quicker than we spend
Then they try to spend some more; it never seems to end
Even when they are voted out their paycheck’s still the same
They are rolling in the money and playing at the game
They don’t listen to the people or balance budgets now
All they want to do it tax and tax and feed that big fat cow
They write so many laws we can never keep them all
Now we feel like criminals lined up against the wall
Our privileges and rights are getting slowly snatched away
We’ll soon be owned by the government when they have their day
Most voters don’t cast votes at all, yet complain about their loss
They say the idiots voted for their new politician boss
Is it all some real sick joke or a well thought out devilish plot
I voted and I put my dollar in, but look at what I got
Debilitating laughter
at the hands of a master
a dirty minded b@stard
who knows what he’s after
The ever subtle asker
he caresses and flatters
his clever patter shatters
cares that should matter
Finally, we moved to extract her
the wobbling girl from Nebraska
from a drunken fraternal disaster
and the junior poised to shaft her
Uhh, sorry to interrupt
Anna, pick her up her stuff
We gotta go home hun, get up
Hey, you touch ME and you’re f-cked
Hun, you’ve had too much rum
when tomorrow comes
if you still want to slum
you can still bed the bum
We’re waiting for an Uber
Are you starting to sober?
No babe, you didn’t screw-up
Ughh, yep, she threw up
Dad had left on urgent business,
something to do with a workers' dispute,
and Mum was at the next-door neighbour's
on one of her 'brief' visits.
Mary, the birthday boy's elder sister,
had just dished out the junkets.
Martin, known for his irascible fits, arrived late.
He started flicking blancmange around.
His main target was Aloysius,
though Jacob and Andreas got hit too.
At the head of the table someone looked sad,
trying to hide his tears, while smiling courageously.
Birthday boys do want their guests to be happy.
But then Calvin turned up, and started an argument.
His'dispute" with Martin soon turned vehement,
only to degenerate into a bawling match.
Girls on the sidelines started to giggle - nervously.
Karl, Jacob's distant cousin, was the last to arrive.
He said birthday parties were silly and tugged the tablecloth.
The din was hellish, enough to wake the dead.
The birthday boy shook his head and sighed.
"If only Dad and Mum were here."
The guests looked at him and grew silent,
some for shame, some in recognition,
mindful of what the birthday party was all about.
planning
The other day Anna created a Pinterest board of wedding ideas (Cheesy, she knows). “It’s time to hop on the bandwagon,” she said. She insists every other girl she’s aware of - except her weird Yale roommates - has one.
We think her girls back home (in Oregon) - who didn’t go to college, are matching up with the Larrys and Gregs who stayed home to become auto mechanics and carpenters - and are now serially getting married. This trend seems to be exerting an odd, psychological pressure on Anna.
“You may be jumping the gun,” Sophie observes.
Anna’s never even had a long-term boyfriend before, but she wishes she had one now. A part time BF anyway, because who has time for more? Anna is self-proclaimed awkward with guys, especially cute ones.
She created a tinder account and uses it to see how many matches she can get - but she refuses to meet any guys there because she says she’s not “desperate.” She thinks everything about tinder screams awkward, unless people are just hooking up there - and that idea, in her mind, is absolutely disgusting.
saving the planet
Late last Friday night, a graduate friend of Peter’s threw a party at his house - far from campus. The house was packed with people and the music was thumping, the crowded rooms jumping - practically humping - in time to a Sacramento horror punk band called “The cramps" that was playing on loop.
I made it through the living room mob to the kitchen, which was oddly empty and well lit. There was a disheveled girl gripping the island bar with one hand, like we’re on a rocking ship, while trying to light a cigarette with the other. I gently wangled the lighter from her - so she didn’t set her hair on fire - and gave her a light.
Afterwards, I slipped the lighter into her skirt pocket, and noticed half the island had coke spilled all over it. “I gave it a drink,” she said, slurring and wavering on her feet, “it looked thirsty.”
That’s when I noticed her now-empty rum and coke cup next to a soaking wet little cactus plant, two ice cubes now lodged in its dirt. I reassured her as I helped her onto a chair, “you were saving the planet.”