Best Person Poems
Identify an elephant
And I will shout, “Hooray!”
For you’re so smart you could be
Leader of the U.S.A.
Another test to prove your worth?
Repeat this after me –
Five words: they’re “Person, Woman, Man”
Then “Camera” and “T.V.”
It’s comforting to know we’re led
By one with an I.Q.
That helps him to distinguish
All the red states from the blue.
Well, I am just a Person,
Yes, a Woman, but, oh Man,
On Camera, for T.V., I’d say,
“I hope he gets the can!”
He speaks metaphorically to avoid dealing direct,
shows the unknown hand he’s against too much respect,
writes about his bravery though it’s no where to detect
or talks in the third person like this I'd expect.
Going on about himself like it’s happening to someone else,
distanced from reality his distracted mind plays stealth,
deflecting the desperation straying from his fails,
because being himself is hell with his fractured mental health.
You’d think he would try to save it but instead he stays away,
doesn’t acknowledge the slaying, writing on as if okay,
creates a situation where he has the final say,
when really just a coward putting himself on display.
He must have found comfort writing this because it's structured,
a new angle on the old tale nothing more than a distraction,
because as soon as it finishes he's back to a spineless buster,
hiding from conflict comforting another poor reaction.
How long will he go on paving this path of pathetic,
in a dangerous direction purposely neglected,
there’s the renegade he speaks of, self elected,
walking towards death being naturally selected.
But deep in this metaphor he doesn’t change a thing,
in his head it’s someone else or a tale of some thing.
To know what happens next go back where this poem begins,
now knowing what life is when your name is Nick Trim.
"I am my father's daughter and I am not afraid of anything."
Quote by - Queen Elizabeth I
I want to be the person my father was, kind, forgiving, loving and faithful.
He was a man who loved nature and taught me everything he knew about
the forest, the foliage, wildflowers, birds and creatures, and of the seasons.
I want to be that kind of person who loves nature and works to preserve it.
My father loved quotes, had one for every situation. I love quotes too
and realize now how fitting his quotes were.
He took me on hikes, like wilderness vision quests. Up mountain trails
to the top and we would camp under the stars, and follow streams.
I want to be that kind of person too, who is not afraid to go into the
unknown without fear to find myself, to be spiritual.
My father had amazing ethics, was a good husband and father, and friend.
His co-workers spoke highly of him. He was a hardworker, I want to be like
that, he had goals, I have goals, he taught to me to leave things the right
way, to never run away, but to turn away from a fight, a stronger person.
He was not a writer, but loved listening to me read him my poetry, he
was encouraging and a good listener, I think that I am too because of him.
Father was quite a storyteller, well, I am too. I could listen to his stories
forever, mother said only half of those stories were true, but I did not care.
I took his death hard, like a part of me was missing, a forever wound,
until I realized everything father had left me so I could grow into me.
Person of colour is coherently germane,
He is never insane.
Some things about this person of colour may seem strange,
He is simple and he is yet to engage.
This person of colour loves the critics,
It is from them, he ticks.
This person of colour is natural,
And so, he is not a trial.
This person of colour loves to exchange
Ideas beyond his range.
This person of colour loves keyboard,
Tis with this he comes on board.
This person of colour is a charcoal- a black beauty.
This person of colour is me.
Strange thought just entered my head
What if I critiqued my own poems
D'ya think I'd really be tough on myself
Or would you detect a slight bias tone
Tried using the criteria of accepted norms
I'd be down at the bottom, no bones
But for humorous verse and originality
Call me Oliver Wendell Holmes
First I followed time honoured patterns
Of poets that have gone before
But that's not what makes a poet of note
Originality is what raises his score
So go ahead and break all the rules
That have been in place forever
Develop your style of creative writing
And be proud of your endeavour
A brand new car is what I love,
Love the body, the new car smell,
So to local luxury garage I drove,
that’s where I met lovely Shantelle!
Bright blue was the colour in mind,
A four wheel drive good for snow,
For my golf kit, lot of space behind,
A shapely front, as men will know!
I was shown to a desk at the rear,
Sitting in her chair was Shantelle,
Divine looks, heart stopping stare,
Like a Sharon Stone, behind a Dell!
What transpired? I can’t remember!
Who spoke and if anything was said?
My mind stoned my legs were timber,
Was I dreaming? Was I still in bed?
Later in the open, to show me the car,
She walked like she was on catwalk,
Blue skin tights kept my mouth ajar,
Her pretty smile was her sales talk!
The blue she wore, was blue I love,
every breath I took was her perfume,
She was so close, when I test drove,
my eyes on her, eyes focus and zoom!
The deal was done, the car was sold,
Shantelle I loved, not the four by four!
Ignored the price, paid what I was told,
Borrowed from a bank, to settle score!
Stone by stone every necklace grows,
Drop by drop, love and ocean soar,
Shantelle I wed, with marriage vows,
Now we are four, in our four by four!
N/A 27/02/2020
Dated 18/02/2020
Premier poetry contest Shantelle
Sponsor Julia Ward
Entered for John Hamilton N-A contest
12/Jan/2021
she is the shield
slaying i
i might just die
***
In a forest grove, where shadows dance,
Stands a gnarled tree, a symbol of chance.
Its twisted branches reach towards the sky,
A source of inspiration, none can deny.
Through countless seasons, it stood the test,
Weathering storms, it never lost its zest.
With roots deep and strong, firmly it clings,
Teaching us lessons that inspiration brings.
From its gnarled form, stories unfold,
Whispering secrets, untold and bold.
Each twist and turn, a tale of resilience,
A reminder to find strength in our existence.
In a world of faith, a gnarled atheist stands,
Defying beliefs, questioning the divine's demands.
With a mind unyielding, and thoughts unbound,
They traverse the realm of reason, profound.
No prayers whispered, no gods to adore,
Their path is paved with skepticism and more.
Through logic's lens, they seek to explore,
The mysteries of life, its essence to restore.
But in the depths of their skeptical soul,
Lies a yearning for truth, an eternal goal.
They seek understanding, beyond what we see,
In the wonders of science, in knowledge set free.
In the depths of time, a soul so old,
A gnarled person, weathered and bold.
Lines etched deeply upon their face,
A map of wisdom, earned through grace.
Their hands, like branches, twisted and bent,
Each wrinkle a story, a life well spent.
With every step, a slow, steady gait,
A testament to battles fought, never too late.
Their eyes, like windows, weathered and wise,
Reflecting the world, its lows and its highs.
Through storms and sorrows, they've stood tall,
A beacon of strength, through it all.
Their voice, like whispers, gravelly and low,
Carries echoes of wisdom, of stories untold.
Each word, a nugget of truth and insight,
Guiding lost souls towards the light.
A good person.
What makes a person quote a “good person”?
Does a good person always finish on top? Not really.
Does a good person get rewarded for good deeds?
No not in the material manner.
Does a good person deserve the best? Sure.
But so do not so good people.
Does a good person always receive the best? Nope.
But their needs are met on a daily basis.
Does a good person lie? Sometimes.
But no one ever said a good person is perfect.
See…
I have many flaws inside of me.
I have character defects that keep me up
at night starving to fall asleep.
See…
I may have many problems inside of me.
But I have a heart of gold that loves too quickly,
yet breaks too easily.
What makes a bad person quote a “bad person”?
Does a bad person always get their way? Sometimes.
Does a bad person deserve misery and
condemnation? Not always.
See…
Bad people aren’t born bad, they became bad
probably gradually as they get older.
Does a bad person deserve goodness? Yes.
Everyone deserves goodness.
Big…small…black…white……everyone.
See…
I am a good person. (I finally admitted it despite all
contradictions and self-loathing)
A good person deserves the best, yet sometimes
gets dealt the worst.
I ask God, why?
I have heard in my heart this being said…
A good person will always face challenges more
than others because they carry the faith that
they can make it through anything.
A good person has demons but they also
have a light in their soul bright enough to
kill anything wicked.
A good person may get ridiculed more than others
because they are different than most others.
Different isn’t good or bad. It’s just different.
Am I different? Maybe.
Am I normal? There is no such thing.
Am I a good person? Yup.
Will I always be a good person? Yes, Lord willing.
My goodness has rooted from a loving family.
My goodness has rooted from my belief that
the Almighty Lord, loves me…
He loves me because…
I am a good person.
I love Him because....
he made me a good person.
-Laura Loo
On a train going south on business
For what seemed an eternity,
I chanced upon a memorable man
Who changed the path of my destiny
He was itinerant to look at
With tatty coat and shabby shoes,
An unshaven face, his hair unkempt
And string, as a belt on his ‘trews’
He boarded the train, peoples heads dropped
For fear that his gaze they’d meet
He walked down the aisle, disappointed,
As no-one would give up a seat
I offered the seat beside me
He thanked me for making the space
I replied with a sincere ‘you’re welcome’
And a smile warmed his weathered face
He asked me about my journey
And I asked of his in return
I felt in my heart, that by talking to him
There was much about life I could learn
I bought us both refreshments
As he told of his life’s history,
Once in a while I would interject
With a small anecdote about me
Behind the shabby persona,
Was a man of intelligent mind
He’d lived on the edge in finance,
Made his fortune, left it behind
As his bank account grew he’d lost everything
His family, his friends, his wife
He’d found out, too late, and at great cost
That there was so much more to life
‘You have to stop and smell the roses,
Make some time for those you hold dear’
And as he spoke, down his rugged cheek
I saw the track of a small, salty tear
As we reached the end of our journey
He clasped my hand at our time to part,
He thanked me for my company
And told me I had a good heart
When I got to my lonely hotel room,
I called my daughters on the phone
And told them ‘we’ll be together soon
I’m taking some time off when I get home.’
Sometimes it takes a chance meeting
To give your whole life a shake
I felt I had met my ‘Hermes’
And now had decisions to make
When I got home, I made a decision
The missed years with my girls I’d amend,
My life took a different direction
All down to my indigent friend
You can’t judge a man on appearance
But if you look in their eyes you can,
I knew in the instant I gave up the seat
I had met a remarkable man.
Admiration For the Person You’ve Become
Don’t ever forget you will always be my little boy
Reflecting in the year’s past of your favorite toy
Was also your security blanket that you always kept near
A mere little stuff rabbit you loved so much dear
If it disappeared, it would always reappeared
From the washing to the drier because it had been so soiled
As you grew older the little artist and Shakespeare you became
Pictures, flowers, poems I would find I’d date and write your name
There were times fear overtook your little mind sweetheart
You would walk in your sleep until the pain would go away from your heart
You'd whisper in my ear to tell me you loved me
You always wanted to be like your daddy, inventive
You've become a man, “Mama I love you” you still tell me
You've become the carbon copy of your dad and passive
We are so proud you took the road of responsibility
Your dad and I agree
You are still my little artist and Shakespeare full of joy
Don’t ever forget you will always be my little boy
Admiration For the Person You’ve Become
2/27/2016
My Lovely Children
A Gift You Are
Who would have thought I would be blind
To eternal sunshine that’s mind
The day you were born was the beginning
My heart's petals bloomed most compelling
Tears of joy I shed while I saw you smile
In my arms I knew the pain was worthwhile
Lullabies sung and hummed to bring comfort sleep
As you lay in your crib without a peep
Challenges as you grew with bumps and bruises with footfalls
Sticky fingers, scattered toys, fancy artwork on the walls
Meaningful memories as I look into your eyes
Of the mischief you use to get into, but I was wise
I'll always be here whenever you need me
Stand by you, whoever you decide to be
Eternal sunshine that was mind is still my total joy
Don’t ever forget you will always be my little boy
2/9/2016
This is dedicated to my three wonderful sons that I cradled in my arms and wish I still was
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_gift_you_are_-_my_lovely_children_755125
Wow! Please do count yourself
exceedingly blessed!
You need not meet their requisites,
to pass a friendship test.
They allow you a fragrant, flowered
leeway.
It’s not the ice cold, rock hard,
pavement of “their”way!
Respect means giving your sister
or brother, expressive room.
Not sealing them like death, in a “my
ideas only, allowed” tomb.
Friends, we seem to think, are there for
us to hurt?
You will feel their absence terribly, when
the friendship bubble, you burst!
11/18/2022
A person who feels about others
And speaks on their circumstances
And offers a better suggesions
To improve the damped system
To add fundamentalistic solutions
To delete opportunism aspects
To develop everyone’s share
To approach everyone’s contribution
To maintain progress and prosperity
To build a civil agenda to enjoy
Without any prejudice barrier
For our human dignity and regard
To differenciate humanism and animalism
To learn about patience and respect
To discuss a topic of learning
A natural behaviour and sophisticated
Developing approaches at same time
To recover the positive and negativeness
To establish distinctions of values
To identify a usefull and useless motives
To live with peace and satisfaction
To encourage further preparations
To secure and safe future
For beyond from newborn buddies
To provide good tools to develop
To understand a constructive problems
To dissolve wastage of recycling
To save extra energy for dangers
To refine pregressive thoughts
To share his doubts and gains
For a better carriage
Is known as a political person?
How do you feel to listen others?
Satisfaction is a matter for all.
MISSING PERSON
Saw him sitting on the curb weeping,
pompous parades of the self righteous
passing “his” children – in disgust.
Eyes glistened through the tears
hands trembling as if to control himself
he rose – as if to speak….
was jostled by passersby, cursed at
by glassed in motorists, mocked
by the children on a passing school bus.
Approaching the synagogue
he was rebuffed by the rabbi,
a relived experience.
The churches, gilded doors locked,
advertised Sunday services
and a trip to Fox Woods Casino.
Saw him sitting on the curb weeping
accompanied by a stray dog
that licked the wounds in his hands.
John G. Lawless
10/26/2015
I miss the person I used to be,
You would have liked her too—so full of life and carefree.
Her glass was always half full,
She saw the bright side, ever hopeful.
No matter what came her way,
She’d just smile and face the day.
Grieving the self that’s now long gone,
Knowing a part of her is beyond.
The emptiness now shapes her today,
Sadness, like an uninvited guest, lingers more than joy in her day.
Aware of how fleeting life can be,
She still rises each morning, thankful to thee.
Hiding behind her mask is grief,
Sorrow and pain, she’s still in disbelief.
She stands tall, remembering the past,
Memories burn bright, forever to last.
She misses her to the depths of her soul,
A loss so profound, it takes its toll.
Her love for her transcends time and age
Everlasting through all the stages.
The ghost of the mommy she used to be
Is now in heaven, rocking her Karyn gently.
Sunrise
The flame of love is as
pure as the day she was born
May 8, 1993
Sunset
The day of mourning etched
in her soul
January 12, 2024
“Your life was a blessing, your memory a treasure. You are loved beyond words and missed beyond measure.” — Unknown