Best Paying Poems
Russia's losses have been greater with their Ukrainian invasion
Compared to nine years in Afghanistan, another miscalculation
Many towns and cities in Ukraine are now being taken back
As Ukrainian defenders launch, a devastating counter attack.
At a river in the Donbas region the Russians tried to cross
But were met with fierce resistance and suffered a great loss
An entire Russian battalion with tanks and vehicles too
Have met with a horrific end, as Ukrainian missiles flew.
How many more losses can the cowardly Russians take?
But they'll never admit, that they have made a grave mistake
Their substandard ageing weapons are being put to the test
And are no match for NATO weapons, which are simply the best.
The first war criminal is in the dock, and his trial is underway
For an act of cold blooded murder and with his freedom he'll pay
He'll no doubt serve time in a prison cell ,for a very long time
But surely that is too lenient and he should be hung for his crime.
Russia will never conquer Ukraine and it's a war they won't win
The civilised world is sending a clear message to Vladimar Putin
Russia's botched invasion has now caused NATO to expand
Two more countries will now join the alliance, Sweden and Finland.
Russia is threatening the West and NATO, saying it may go nuclear
It's just sabre rattling on their part and they're trying to instil fear
Even if they launched their missiles, it would invoke article five
The Russian state would cease to exist and they wouldn't survive.
Russia should now do the honourable thing and admit defeat
And for Putin to give the order to his forces, in Ukraine to retreat
Acts of aggression won't be tolerated and the west will not give way
And if you invade a peaceful country, then a high price you will pay.
Written 15th May 2022
Categories:
paying, conflict, murder, prison, war,
Form:
Rhyme
I feel a blockage has occurred...
It must have been all that stuffing and Turkey bird...
The gurgles, the rumbling, the passing of gas...
It’s beyond my control ,Oh dear, please let this pass...
We have guests you see...
So I don’t have the privilege to just get up and flee...
No one should ever be in this state...
And I should never have put so much on my plate...
Cause now I’m paying and to my demise ...
The rite of passage has been denied...
I feel like I may blow up and explode...
It’s times like this when you miss the commode...
Categories:
paying, bird, food, holiday, humor,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I did not hesitate for one second.
I am an elementary school counselor.
I get to play with children.
They uplift me, and delight me.
I do my best to stop their tears and get them back to class.
I successfully eliminated twenty-eight jobs before I became a school counselor.
I was forty-four when I received my diploma.
So forty-four when I had my first counseling job.
I loved it, and I love this one.
I love counseling.
I love the kids.
I love teaching character education classes.
Retirement?
Not for this seventy-one year old.
I will go out at ninety-two in a body bag.
I ask only one thing.
Do not tell the children I am dead.
Just slip my body into the bag and leave me in a locked room
Until after school.
Then slip me away quietly.
There will be no funeral.
I don’t want any of them to have any more tears.
Some have had way too many already.
Categories:
paying, me,
Form:
Narrative
another deep breath
of suffocating air
passes the lump in my throat...
I offer a Kleenex
to the woman beside me
Categories:
paying, death, loss,
Form:
Tanka
I took it all for granted.
The sky, the stars, the wind,
the flowers, the grass, the trees.
I expected to see my friends every day.
It was boring, dull,
humdrum, if you please.
So here I am, in my mediocre mind-set,
walking to a friends’ house, not enjoying a breeze.
Not paying attention to the sky, the wind, the flowers,
the grass or the trees.
Categories:
paying, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
A tree needs sun, water and soil
gives back its fruit...
and its shade
on a hot, sultry day
A bee needs a flower to pollinate
gives the world honey
sweetens life
soothes living souls
We too have our needs
our sun ---------------- the warmth of parents
our water and soil ---- their nurture
our flower ------------- their love
We too give back
our warmth
our nurture
~ our love
Categories:
paying, giving, humanity, insect, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Here are a few safety tips that will help keep you & your family ssafe
When in doubt, throw it out: Throw out foods with danger-signaling odors. But be aware that most food poisoning bacteria are odorless, colorless and tasteless. Do not even waste a food that is suspect.
Use separate cutting boards for meat and poultry: Don’t use wooden cutting boards. Bacteria can live in the grooves. Sterilize cutting boards in the dishwasher. Consider buying separate colors for meat and fresh foods like veggis and bread.
Wash and disinfect sponges and towels regularly: Launder in a bleach solution.
Avoid cross-combination by washing all surfaces (including your hands) that have been in contact with raw meats, poultry or eggs.
Thaw meats or poultry in the refrigerator, not in the kitchen counter: If you must thaw foods quickly, use cool running water or the microwave
Do not put food on a plate that was used for raw meat or poultry: If you bring your raw steaks, chicken, or burgers to the grill on a platter, get a fresh platter for a final product
Mix foods with utensils, not your hands: Keep hands and utensils away from your mouth, nose and hair
Categories:
paying, food, people,
Form:
List
The bill arrives; I give a glance
And if it seems correct,
I grab my checkbook, write one out,
The same as you’d expect.
I pop it in the envelope
And choose a proper stamp;
You’ve noticed now that I belong
To that old-fashioned camp.
“Go paperless!” the invoice says.
“Pay what you owe online.”
I’ve always paid the bills my way
And things have worked out fine.
Despite my smartphone, basically
I’ll never be high-tech,
But companies are glad, I’m sure,
When they receive my check.
Categories:
paying, technology,
Form:
Rhyme
Silence was my savior,
and silence was my end.
Silence was my only friend,
but I paid the price in the end.
I wouldn't speak when I was young,
No matter what the problem,
I silenced my tongue.
Inside I was crying,
but you couldn't really tell.
Inside I was screaming,
please release me from this hell.
As an adult I broke in two,
in pieces I did fall,
I kept the silence over the years,
and put up a big wall.
I had a nervous breakdown,
at last I had to speak,
even I was surprised
at what I had buried so deep.
Talking was the beginning,
to the healing of my soul,
and let the past and demons
give up and just let go.
COLLEEN MARIE BONO
February 25, 2012
Categories:
paying, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
In the big battle,
The defender makes mistake,
Lebron hits the shot.
Categories:
paying, basketball,
Form:
Haiku
Parking lots are empty, the streets are bare:
no one forecast this; nothing can compare.
Acting cavalier, some don't even care
that the elderly die, gasping for air:
they still say staying inside is unfair.
The low-wage everyday workers are scared,
finding themselves jobless and unprepared.
And it's soon apparent no country's spared:
the whole world's at war, though it's undeclared.
Facts about the pandemic got disclosed,
and self-quarantine measures were imposed;
while airports and national borders closed.
Social distancing stressed out the nation:
socialization is our foundation.
And, we've got good reason to bellyache.
Corporate greed failed hospital healthcare:
profits increased, and therefore no one cared,
that this pandemic left the world exposed.
A lack of supplies brought desperation:
now, everyone's paying for that mistake.
Categories:
paying, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
I was nineteen that summer
when I met him at a buck-out,
and I was totally smitten
by all the Cowboy charm he had.
I thought that he was rugged,
(and undeniably handsome),
then that bull slammed against the fence
and busted him up pretty bad.
I was surprised when he showed up at the dance,
he was battered and bruised but smiling,
and I heard him talking and laughing,
still high from the rush of the ride.
He said “You gotta’ pay the fiddler
if you want to dance to his tune”,
then he drifted across the floor,
said “Let’s dance” as he reached my side.
Mama told me I’d be sorry
if I ignored her and took up with him,
and I really hate to say it,
but I guess that she was right.
But when I review my memories
I know I’d do it all again,
for that “Eight Second Feeling”
of our first long kiss that night.
We used to dance for hours,
in the kitchen and on the porch
and laugh about owein’ that fiddler
and what his pay would be.
But lately there ain’t been no dancin’,
just long strings of awkward silence,
as his eyes look far and distant
and not so much at me.
Seems his spirit has grown uneasy,
as I listen to him talking
and realize it’s still Rodeo
that truly holds his heart.
Oh, I don’t mind coming in second,
heck, life is like that sometimes.
But knowing I’m invisible,
well, that’s the hardest part.
I suppose I should be angry,
but I just can’t find it in me,
‘cause I know what it’s like
to love something just that way.
I felt it when I first saw him,
in the arena and on the dance floor
and I still feel it sometimes
when I watch him walk away.
I’ve helped him struggle to pay the fiddler,
and it breaks my heart to see him weary,
so I stand in silent acceptance,
as I watch him pack his things.
I understand his leaving,
I know he won’t be coming back here,
our life together, a lesson,
one that time always seems to bring.
I walk out past the horse pens,
pull the gate shut…and I lock it,
hear my mare start to nicker
as the trailer pulls away.
I’d like to say I’ll miss him,
his past still holds my heart.
But we danced to the fiddler’s tune
and the final payment came due today.
Categories:
paying, cowboy-western, introspection, life, lost
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
On their way to Sunday mass
A homeless man they walked right past
Not a single coin put on his plate
They rushed right by to not be late
They listened to the preacher preach
Compassion to each other he tried to teach
When the collection basket was passed around
Plenty of loose dollars the congregation found
But one little boy took ten dollars out
And the lady beside him started to shout
“That is a sin boy; you’re going to hell –
Why did you do that? I want you to tell.”
He looked up at her with bright blue eyes
And said, “Why, ma’am I am surprised;
Weren’t you listening to what the minister said?
Some of this money should go to the poor man instead.”
As people watched him walk towards the door
The preacher stopped him and gave twenty dollars more
He said to the homeless man, “This is for you”
With a sparkle in his smile and his bright eyes of blue
The homeless man said, “Why thank you son,
This is a very kind thing that you have done.
I told my father who lives up above
That in this world there still is love.”
That homeless man got up to his feet
And slowly started walking on down the street
The whole congregation looked on with surprise
As he disappeared before their very eyes
Categories:
paying, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
At 5 a.m. he's on the job
I kiss him goodbye with a smile and a hug
Our marriage is heaven, he loves me so much
He gives "unconditional" new meaning for us
I maxed out the charge cards and put us in debt
He reminds me I'm perfect without getting upset
You can do no wrong, he says with a smile
My love is lifelong; we'll live it in style
No matter what happens, you're my number one
I'll love you forever, my darling, my hun
He makes enough money for a comfortable life
Yet, there's never enough because I'm his wife
I gave up the drinking intending to change
But truth all be told, it was just an exchange
The shopping addiction was waiting for me
To have and to use at Walmart til 3 (a.m.)
I hid all the bags in the trunk of my car
The guilt and the shame, what I'm feeling so far
Somehow disappeared without leaving a trace
Of remorse or repentance, I'm such a disgrace
His trust is misplaced, love taken for granted
I have to become his shiksa enchanted.
Last week all the charge cards were paid off with credit
I put them away and switched over to debit.
Categories:
paying, introspectionlove, me,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
A fist clenched, face muscles flexed on pinched cheeks, huge sinews appeared on his neck,
The veins in his arms were like twisted lengths of blue rope and his eyes bulged in his anger,
His brother lay face down in a rancid pool, a lifeless corpse, another name in a very long book,
Ghosts in a grey dawn, moving then disappearing, then boom as mighty cannons fire into the sky.
Turning the body over, wretched wounds had ripped his face, ripped his youth, ripped away his life,
A gray morning, the same as other mornings, cold grey twilight, but this day will never be forgotten,
The strong brave man, who had seem so much, cried uncontrollably and his hot tears fell bitterly,
He knelt in filth, to cradle his younger brother and rocked backwards and forwards, unbelieving.
Once they played on long sultry hot days and when the rain fell it refreshed scents in the warm air,
They ran through fallow fields, pretty meadows scythed clear of hay, into a fine wild flower garden,
In days where the air slumbered lazily, they climbed thick leafy masses of high, ancient oak trees,
Always watching and warning his happy little brother, never climb too high nor stand on dead wood.
Laying down and looking up into autumn skies, warm, soaring winds shaping passing fluffy clouds,
Rising early as the sun once more shines, on those brilliant days, the calmest most impressive beauty,
Watching from afar in school looking after him, chasing bullies away, enriching his early days,
Beneath these warm shimmering suns, running, over to hedgerows picking sweet ripe black berries.
But those days are gone, gone forever, replaced by fear and hate, nobody will ever be the same,
Every day staring at death's grinning sated face, trying not to be caught in its cold red eyes,
And we all know the piper must be paid on these killing fields, but his wages are far too high,
Today on this early grey morning, shadows disappearing, a young man and his brother paid in full.
Categories:
paying, war, brother, autumn, brother,
Form:
Prose Poetry