Best Paul Poems
Paul, Peter and the Tweeter
Why not choose,
a billionaire leader?
One who is not
an eloquent speaker.
Trouble rises,
he robs Paul to pay Peter.
The bold rich need tax savings,
forget about the meeker.
From a distance,
we watch the kingdom teeter.
Him smirking on high,
he thinks "What could be sweeter!"
Why oh why,
did so many choose that cheater?
Global temperature rising,
things aren't the same.
Scientific facts need hiding,
isn't that a shame?
There's new logic he's applying,
says coal dust isn't really flying.
Even though the fish are bitter
and you can't see them under the litter,
no one can turn down the heater.
"Fake News" he says,
check out T-Man's Twitter.
The Country is "Great Again",
cause he ain't no quitter!
Yet people are making less than their babysitter.
Good jobs will go with free trade,
might as well become a waiter.
Otherwise you’ll starve sooner or later.
People happy,
he wants to build a wall.
Mexico will pay,
so build it tall.
More immigrants?
You don't need them at all.
But no one left to pick the fruit,
or to be at your beck and call.
Watch it all fall,
for sure the economy will stall.
No one buying nothing at the mall.
Meanwhile
Klu Klux Klan standing tall.
If they ask him,
T-Man will let them guard his wall.
Look for all the signs,
a leader who's a hater.
Mastertweeting, flatulater.
A logic lacking debater,
self-loving,
self-promoting, congratulator!
If he pushes the button,
we might become a large crater.
He'll spin it and tell those left,
"I'm the great emancipator!"
If you don't believe him,
You’re just another disloyal traitor!
I felt I’d known you all my life
When I met you and your lovely wife
Your daughter and grand-daughter too
A friendship forged, we will again renew
When I saw you at the airport today
Hugs and kisses came my way
Treasured memories of the days we met
These precious times we will never forget
Hugs Jan ***
Jan Allison
4th November 2014
The battles on the field are harsh and tough
The looting in their wake engorged with greed
Abundant spoils of war are not enough.
Atrocious in their acts that make no sense
The women and the girls are taken slaves
Abusing them with lust and violence.
Unable to resist the touch of shame
The captive females cry in pain and fear
Their lives will never be again the same.
And when the dust of war has blown away
The children of the foe get born to those
Who months before fell prey and ravaged lay.
Unwanted children still need loving care
Mothers find it hard to nurture such babes
Shame is endured by children in despair.
Their lives are defined by horrid attacks
Evil men who satisfied selfish needs
Indignities make them fall through the cracks.
Who loves a child rejected by its kin?
Society offers them no solace
The “enemy’s child,” created by sin;
But all these children still have hearts and souls
Rejection renews the cycle of pain
When there is no one who cares or consoles.
*Co-written with Paul Callus
FOR PAUL CALLUS
Paul, this short poem is for you alone,
Wish you lived closer,
I’d tell you on the phone,
You have been the cornerstone of
Poetry for me,
A tutor in a way,
An incredibly honest person
Who writes talented poems
You write brilliantly, and you are clever,
Whether Historical, romantic, serious or funny,
Before I answer some of your poems
I definitely research them to see if I’m right,
Not all, just a few.
I know all Soupers respect and like you
A lot, hope the feeling is mutual, where
I am concerned, Alpha to Omega
Was a rhymed poem but I suddenly noticed
After it had been posted
That a good friend of mine had not been noted
A friend that has supported me
Through-out my two years with this group
Called Poetry Soup,
Had in error, not been mentioned,
Certainly not intentioned!
All I can say is please accept my apology
I was working on two poems at a time,
‘Eve of Storms’ involved in mythology
Paul, this I knew I wanted and needed to say,
And, to wish you a relaxed and happy Sunday
I dreamt it in stone
whilst I softly slept
unhurried thoughts
as others wept
exist as one
that is the dream
but the dream is undone
kneeling and wretched
prostrate on the ground
serene and believing
salvation found
by the light of the moon
it's possible to see
the most favoured
most becoming
version of me
I've taken up space
fashioned as ornate
with no way to speak
as a protected state
but thoughts run rife
impossible to still
what bodies can't encapsulate
within the shape that they fill
my bones tell a story
my mind doesn't understand
I agreed wholeheartedly
as horizons are scanned
let me be enveloped by the sandman
lost in a faraway stare
just outside of time
perhaps my purpose lies there
Paul
Husband of Sheila, Father of Kirsty and Paul-Mark,
Grandfather of Valentina, teacher, and friend
Son of Pauline and Nazarene, brother to six siblings:
Joseph – Angela – Carmel – Catherine – Victor – Maria Concetta
Lover of freedom, honesty, dreams, dark chocolate, nuts, red wine, and windmills
Patient and diplomatic, but like a dormant volcano is liable to erupt
Enjoys sports, swimming, walking, travelling, reading, writing, painting, and drama
Detests lies, double-faced people, wars, cheats, bullying, and vandalism
Who feels for those in need, the persecuted, and the marginalized
Who fears loss of countryside, betrayal, hate, suffering, and dementia
Who would like to see tomorrow’s dawn, peace on earth, beyond the mountain peak,
Resident of Safi village, Malta, Europe
Callus
-----------------------------------------
17th October, 2014
Contest: Bio Poems
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Placed: 1st
Come with me to Fontanella
where the bastions rise up high.
There the view is overwhelming;
nature’s beauty meets the eye.
Come with me to Fontanella,
the tea garden that’s unique
in the city of Medina.
Taste bud pleasure we will seek.
Come with me to Fontanella
when you’re dying for a cake.
You’ll be spoilt by the selection
of the goodies that they bake.
Come with me to Fontanella,
I go mad on nuts and dates.
You would drool for cassatella.
All we’ll leave is empty plates!
Come with me to Fontanella
Be it sun or be it rain.
An experience to remember;
you’ll return time and again!
------------------------------------
As the rooster crows:
A look in the pool mirrored a perfect mop
At times of frizzy hair or defiant shaggy tresses
Ohhh the satisfaction at the sight
And yabba, dabba, doo!! echoed loud and clear
Triumphant male ego at its best!
A man’s crowning glory
Pulled, cut, brushed, curled, straightened, shaved
Lathered, gelled, creamed and pasted
Soaked in fragrant Makassar oil
Invigorator, conditioning both groom and style.
Macho, gentle, sweet, daring tastes
Side-partings, medium, undercut and long
Sporting pony-tails, short back and sides
Elvis and James Dean quiffs curled kiss-me-quicks,
Punk, Mohawk, flamboyant fringes
Highlights and lowlights, sprays and blow-dries!
All part and parcel of male vanity and crowning glory.
Heckles from the henhouse:
As some men grow older they shed hair.
Each day they seek strands that were once there,
But skin patches widen --
Just check out Joe Biden.
Prepare to shut eyes in the bright glare.
A comb-over seems like a good plan,
But ladies don’t flock to a con man.
With 10 hairs remaining,
A “crown” they are feigning.
What happens when strands face a wind fan?
No reason for men to grow manic;
Mustaches and beards can work magic,
Diverting attention
Without the pretension
That balding is simply too tragic.
The “rug” method’s just too expensive,
Espec’ly when loss is extensive.
Like Telly Savalas,
The outcome’s not callous --
Few women find baldness offensive!
*Many thanks to Paul Callus for inviting me to join in this co-write.
There are so many sounds
That are enjoyed by so many
But the sounds i love most
Are by plectrum or penny
Lindsey Buckingham playing "Go Your Own Way"
Even Joe Perry makes "Walk This Way" say
Eric Clapton and his solo on "Cocaine"
Don Felder with "Hotel California" listening time and time again
Peter Green strumming "Man Of The World"
David Gilmour and Pink Floyd's "Time" the best i have ever heard
Jimi Hendrix with the amazing "Hey Joe"
Alex Lifeson axing "Working Man" in Toronto flow
Pete Townsend from the Who "Won't Get Fooled Again"
Neil Young and his anthem "Like A Hurricane"
George Harrison delights with "Here Comes The Sun"
Kerry Livgren from Kansas state "Carry on Wayward Son"
Tom Scholz of Boston with their "A Man I'll Never Be"
Jimmy Page from Led Zeppelin as their "Whole Lotta Love" riffs free
Neal Schon on a Journey "Who's Crying Now"
Nancy Wilson Seattle's Heart "Crazy On You" wows
The sounds you read above, are just my ones of many
Whether they are played by a plectrum, or played by a penny
I did mention above, that i loved Pink Floyd's "Time"
But second to it, is Slash's "Sweet Child of Mine"
Slowly drifting, drifting away, and it feel likes I’m drowning.
I'm drowning, my eyes are drowning every time they surf into the world of pleasure,
Seas and seas of bodies creating electricity yet God hasn’t struck me for such sin,
Come closer, Come closer, I freeze as I lose my soul to the enemy, the screen, the bodies I’ve never touched,
This encounter leaves me feeling so ashamed and afraid.
What if they know?
Would they think I’ve changed my nationality?
Would they now think I live in a country of red ,orange, yellow, green, blue, violet.
Heal me, but every time I receive the baptism, I progress into a another stage of sickness,
I envision myself, my body, that I see in such high regard, hanging highly from the ropes of betrayal,
They made me thought that it was okay
Is that you last words? God looked at me as he was ready to pass his judgement.
Yes father,
And my body transformed into the place I belong,
A sea of fire,
And this time I wasn’t sure how to swim, and as I take my last breath and reminisce, I realized I've been here all along, it didn’t burn this bad, maybe because the world leaves you to believe that you have a thick skin and no heart.
I was born sick, I don’t love it, command me to be well.
His poetic voice rides across the sea
I could swear that Paul is speaking to me
With rhythm in his words, peace in his heart
I find Paul and I are not far apart
Collaboration takes little effort
Conflicts in tone we easily avert
In Malta he writes by soft candlelight
When I’m still blessed by generous daylight
Paul takes me to depths I have never known
I feel so blessed; as a poet I’ve grown
*November 1, 2016
For Andrea’s “Community Builders Free for All Tribute”
There once was a snowman named Paul
Quite sadly he had a great fall
When he landed on his head
They thought for sure he was dead
Paul Bearers they started to call
Rich the Ball Bearer
There once was a snow man named Rich
He wore no clothing not a stitch
His snow balls were big and round
yet they were not easily found
Can you help poor rich scratch his itch?
Note: No snow men or women were harmed in the writing of these poems.
Mind you it is possible that balls might have been scratched.
December 30th, 2017
For Eve Roper’s Upside Down World Contest
Washed and smartly dressed in school uniform
Judy tucks into her healthy breakfast
while watching cartoons on television.
Her mother smiles. Outside the sun shines bright.
Rami wakes to sounds of jets overhead.
He pulls his worn blanket tight to his chest
afraid to look outside and see the dead.
His nation torn and by tyrants oppressed.
A friend’s birthday party awaits Judy.
With present in hand she knocks at the door;
already, music fills the evening air.
She’s greeted by hugs and happy faces.
Wails of crying mothers fill sooty air.
Where did Rami’s go? She’s been gone so long.
Each day he offers for her a prayer,
knowing well she would want him to stay strong.
Excited, she tugs at her father’s hand
as she watches the colored lights around
the fair grounds. Nibbling at her candyfloss,
she makes a mental note of the fun rides.
Will there be food today, food he can share?
It’s his duty to care for another.
He crawls through litter, finds the wee one there,
but cold is the body of his brother.
Today it was a public holiday
and Judy’s parents took her to the beach.
A lovely day has now come to an end.
Judy’s mother gives her a goodnight kiss.
With family gone, Rami takes up arms.
They’re readily available to all.
It matters not to him which side he harms;
in battle Rami is willing to fall.
Judy falls asleep in her cozy bed
as her mum softly sings a lullaby.
A fleeting smile lights up her peaceful face.
She dreams of life’s delights, cuddles and love.
To a staccato rhythm bullets fire
as Rami dashes from the ragged tent.
Of Rami’s fate nobody will inquire;
for war’s children, none are left to lament.
In another time and age
we could have written a new page
crossing paths on land or sea
brushing cheeks with destiny.
With youthful zest and joy
our ardent quills employ
to mix your ink with mine
with passion so divine
and then the words would flow
to set each heart aglow.
If our souls could sing and rhyme
beyond the horizon of time
to mirror our words with perfection
with utmost sincerity and affection
to bring distinct colors and shades
we seal a bond that will not fade
as we reach for eternity
bathing in blissful affinity.
Mirrored thoughts on a new page
in another time and age.
Witty sweet man Paul Callus
gets better with every callous.
His many splendid poems
too good! His computer broken!
8:00 am
May 16, 2014
________________peace Paul...:D :P GBU