Best Pitch In Poems
When asked to write Limericks about ladies
I said, "Oh, no. There's no way in Hades!"
Too many are my friends
I'd have to make amends
Not even for a brand new Mercedes
Then, I gave the matter a bit more thought
And chose women closest to my heart
The ones in Milton Creek
Five who are quite unique
All lovely women who are very smart
Jan holds ownership of the Manx Saloon
Where two lovely ladies sing a fine tune
It's where Milt played poker
But do not provoke her
Jan has been known to throw a mean spittoon!
Tania now runs the bakery in town
Her Whiskey Whoopie Pies are world renown
Come to Kitchin's Kitchen
She might let you pitch in
to help her make the best pastries around
Deb manages the Manx with extra care
No outlaws allowed, so you'd best beware
If you're packin' a gun
Or maybe on the run
She'll call the lawmen and they'll be right there
Two recently hired ladies fit right in
Caren tends bar, pouring jiggers of gin
Anne-Lise is the town flirt
Servin' drinks in ruffled skirt
Fine ladies, living at Aces with Lin
There's a few others at the Bordello
I hear one's sweet on a certain fellow
Maybe just a rumor
A tale told with humor
The Creek's calm enough to hear cows bellow
Residents will keep it free of all spats
No bad hombres who'll be wearin' black hats
More ladies will arrive
Our little town will thrive
Mayor Tom will have more to say 'bout that
I was dreaming of a hunting quest,
feral, wild and untamed in a land strange;
then, outside my fluffy fur there was a change,
the bright sun was shining into our nest.
Yawning wide and on the bed my claws- pressed,
I am soft grey and a pet of one;
I like to prowl pretend mice that in the house run.
Oh, on my mother's lips a kiss I have pressed!
Well, I think she is my mother, anyway,
and I see her eyes flutter and she does stir;
MEOW! Is she going to sleep all day ?
So into her right ear I loudly purr,
I am forced to stand on her chest and plea;
Oh! Do get up and make our tea!
Then, she hugs me close to her heart with love,
and she calls me her little turtle dove!
Now, mother is walking towards the kitchen,
I zoom past her sliding on the wood floor;
yes, ready to do my part- to pitch in,
I know mother what dwells behind that door !
That's right, make the tea and in my bowl pour,
yes, in my plate my yummy food place;
and when I am all full we can play chase . . .
so, sorry mother, didn't mean to break that vase!
__________________________
March 12, 2022
Poetry/Personification/I Think She Is My Mother
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1439-290-12
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Brain Strand Formal
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/12/2022
First Place
Poem of the Day - March 14, 2022
Tania Kitchin deserves to be honored for her courage. If you would like to honor her, send me your thoughts in couplet form. Thanks.
I have some recognition that I'd like to bring forth to all.
Thanks to Tania for having our backs and standing tall.
I’m proud of your character and standing up for what you believe.
I just want to say you’re awesome, and I hope you never leave.
Mark Koplin
Tania Kitchin, cheers to you for writing with lucidity
Your poem of the day carried its weight with validity
For the courage to write the truth, you were chided
But you should've been praised and not derided
Tania, you're being honored for taking a stand
You didn't merit the need for a harsh reprimand
Jenna Logan
I thought that I’d better pitch in
adding support for Tania Kitchin
She wrote her lines straight from the heart
though the POTD honour was soon to depart
I feel there was no need to apologize
Cos nasty soup trolls we all despise
Jan Allison
Why reprimand Tania? this really isn’t right
She was only highlighting not starting up a fight
My support I bring to this wee collab
Your back...so stand tall, we have it, we have!
Angela Tune
When confronted by trolls and bullies, Tania will speak her mind
A lady of integrity and steel, I think that you will find.
She like many of us here wants a quiet life without any fuss
And if what she wrote that day was wrong then I'm Sparticus.
Tom Cunningham
Mother Earth's Plea
Once upon a time I was so beautiful
Now my body is cluttered with pestilence,
I’m slowly dying inside.
Hear my suffering,
feel my rain of tears,
my seasons of grief and anguish
Please restore my magical beauty and charm,
the rhythm of harmony and balance
so I can survive
If you love me, keep me clean and recycle.
Everyone needs to pitch in!
6/17/2015
Muddy Water's Gramma gave us licorice
I walked the old Kenwood neighborhood with my twin little brother and sister in tow,
'hold there hands and look both ways before you cross the street'
No use trying to talk my way out, knew it was the only way mom would let me go.
October's new moon, peaked in and out of passing clouds,
leaving the night gloomy in stygian darkness.
Faces painted, carrying our paper bags, dressed in raggedy linen pillow case shrouds.
Low sad sound of a guitar's slow lick, pitch in open E, played a few doors down,
accompanied by a soulful song sung:
'Well, my mother told my father,
just before hmmm, I was born,
"I got a boy child's comin,
He's gonna be, he's gonna be a rollin stone,
Sure 'nough, he's a rollin stone..'
I knocked on the door, our shrilled chorus trio called out Trick or Treater's round,
Clutching a Bible in her hands 'to ward off evil spirits'.
Gramma Della turned on the porch-light, framed in screened doorway,
emitting a joyous whooping sort of laugh, invited the three of us in.
The bright-eyed man sat at the kitchen table, looking up from his guitar emblazoned in Formica reflected glory.
In the corner, a pretty girl, dressed as Cinderella, sat cross-legged on the floor..
with what looked like a million dollars worth of candy.
Muddy, who had ceased his song at our knock, nodded our way.
With curious smile that was both happy and sad, in smooth, measured voice said
'Oh don't you look a fright'.
Della handed out licorice that year, the same as all the years we once knew.
But what us kids remember best, and last, the man who sung & played the Catfish Blues.
What I didn't learn 'til later, a picture placed in Muddy's view of the living room.
Little Walter, with his harmonica cupped in hands,
who died just a year earlier, a day after Valentine's moon.
Inspired by McKinley Morganfield and his Grandmother Della Jones
You get a heck of a sound from the church. Can't you hear it in my voice? -Muddy Waters
Underage Immigrant Crisis 2
The problem keeps getting bigger everyday. It seems to
me that it is everyone's problem. There are a lot of horror
stories that are told by the kids that do make it here.
Some never make it and their parents don't know what
happened to them. A couple from Dallas paid a coyote
$ 7.000 for one daughter and then another one to bring
them here. They have not seen them yet.
Other kids say that they go hungry for days until some of
the people throw them food when they are on top of the
train called ( La Bestia ) meaning ( The Beast ) They call it
that because a lot of people have been killed, falling off, or
trying to get on it.
Sometimes they get to a place in Mexico that is run by a priest
and there they get food and can stay a couple of days, than
continue on their journey. This run by donations, but they are
running out of food.
They just had a meeting with the president of Honduras and he
said that these kids should not go back, that the United States
should help. What can we do? Mexico said that because of two
derailments that happened in one week on ( La Bestia ) with more
than 1.000 passengers - now no immigrants will be allowed in that
train.
The president is now asking Congress for $ 3 billion to combat this
problem. I don't know if it will work, but I think that if we all pitch in
a dollar, or whatever we can - it would help a lot...
07/12/2014
By Lucilla M.carrillo
Note: I Just think that this concerns us
all. Have you got any Ideas? Kids are
kids, no matter where they come from.
wave and waiting shore
gulls sing with the oceans tune
rustling trees pitch in
7/1/15
You put up the numbers
Year after year.
You faced every pitcher
Having no fear.
You have a great eye.
The best of them all.
You made it look easy
When you contact the ball.
A pitch in the strike zone
You gave it a slap.
Singles and doubles
Were scored in the gaps.
Over two hundred hits
Five different seasons.
Over thirty-one hundred
Hall of fame reasons.
You batted an average
Three thirty-eight.
Over twenty straight years.
I'm just saying that's great.
Eight batting titles
With the very same team.
For today’s average player
It's only a dream.
Out in right field
You were a cut above.
And for your great play
Won five golden gloves.
You stole 300 bases.
Most never knew.
Your career strike outs
Were so very few.
So now you stand
In the hall of fame.
As one of the greatest
To have played the game.
I was dreaming of a hunting quest,
feral, wild and untamed in a land strange;
then, outside my fluffy fur there was a change,
the bright sun was shining into our nest.
Yawning wide and on the bed my claws- pressed,
I am soft dark grey and a pet of one;
I like to prowl mice that in the house run.
Oh, on my mother's lips a kiss I pressed!
Well, I think this is my mother, anyway,
I see her eyes flutter and she does stir;
MEOW! Is she going to sleep all day?
So into her right ear I loudly purr,
I am forced to stand on her chest and plea;
Oh! Do get up and make our tea!
Then, she hugs me close to her heart with love,
and she calls me her little turtle dove!
Mother is walking towards the kitchen,
I zoom past her sliding on the wood floor;
yes, ready to do my part- to pitch in,
I know mother what dwells behind that door.
That's right, make the tea and in my bowl pour,
yes, in my plate my yummy food place;
and when I am all full we can play chase . . .
So sorry, didn't mean to break your vase!
_________________________
February 1, 2017
Poetry/Personification/A Little Animals View
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 8717-80-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Entered in the contest,
Any Poem Written on your Birthday
Sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
_________________________
For the contest, In An Animals View
Sponsor, Jamie Pan
Fourth Place
If you and your friends pitch in together, you can arrive in a limo at the entrance of your senior prom.
Makes an entrance a little bit more formal.
Prom is a dance where you dress in a formal dress
When you wear a lovely corsage on your dress or wrist
A small bouquet of flowers which is the proper decor
On a formal dress or wrist, you wear to your prom
An unforgettable cherishable memory
only happens when your seventeen
The last dance of your high school life.
A night worth creating long lasting memories
Sharing every moment along with your friends
A night where you dance along your classmates.
Dancing along to every musical beat
When the music suddenly stops
You'll hear the announcement who received the highest vote
Those who win the majority vote
Get elected as Prom Queen and King
They'll share a slow dance along with their classmate.
They rest of the runner-ups get chosen as prom princesses and prince's
They each dance to a slow song along with the king and queen
Take photos, snapshots, and selfies
So you don't forget your Prom night
Prom isn't only about dancing. It's also about gathering with teachers
Teachers you surely won't ever forget.
Spend time wisely with all your teachers and friends.
A few stay in your life as for others it's a final goodbye
Don't take your high school life for granted, because prom is the last dance.
This particular event only occurs once in your life.
For others, if their lucky enough to go to college or university
With a friend or individually
Prom is known as a formal dance.
A dance which occurs after graduation
Where you can enjoy yourself with your classmates.
This gives you another opportunity to create more unforgettable memories
Memories worth creating for the second time.
Hard Work And Sweat Turned We Boys Into Men
Every summer we picked berries on the hill,
sweating to gather enough for mom to make a pie.
Wading among the insects and the dreaded snakes
we worked because hunger was a daily deal.
As farm children we were taught to pitch in,
to do as told and help out as was needed.
Any chore was to be done quickly and done right
hard work and sweat turned we boys into men.
Hunting game animals was not just a sport,
it was a means to keep our family well fed.
Taught how to gather more for much less(ammo)
father the judge ruling over our hunting court.
Living on the thin edge was not a great pleasure.
Looking back, I see Dad and we were his treasure!
Robert J. Lindley, 04-13-2015
Part I: Sin
Mariah of Magdala
The cursed one among women
Better that you were not born
The one full of black evil
Queen of prostitutes
None of modest can be traced in you
Yet men still Adour you
They still come crawling even in black dark
They do not care if day is scorching bright
Neither if its black pitch in deep groovy woods
They hunt you from the cave you hide
When they smell your shadow Mariah
They cannot hold on their dripping appetite
That made wet their groins
What charm are you using Mariah!
Why don’t you share with other women?
Do you want all the men to yourself Mariah?
Jelly Belly had her sex with a saxophone
Up and down in pitch in perfect transposition
In melodic intervals
Jelly listens what he tells
"I put my dysfunction at your disposition".
During a tour in this island nation,
a Maori guide was seeking a nomination.
Among our tour he sought out a spokesman,
to respond to the chief's words, as a small token.
"Sir, will you represent your touring tribe?"
"Yes," I responded, "for a very large bribe!"
I wanted to know what was required.
Giving a speech was nothing I desired.
"No. There's nothing to it at all.
Just go up there and stand up tall."
As we closed in on the Maori stage,
changes to instructions began to be made.
"Say some words when the chief's talk is done.
It's just a matter of having some fun."
"You must always show a serious face.
Or the chief will put you in your place."
"In your speech, you must show respect.
Or the gravest insult, the chief will suspect."
I was as nervous as one could be.
I seriously considered an option to flee.
"Don't worry too much," the Maori man said.
"I'll give you some cues to ease your dread."
The chief rambled on with his lengthy speech.
Then it was my turn, into the breach.
Nervously, I told the chief about my tribe.
"We're from a cruise ship, traveling far and wide."
I could think of nothing else, just wanted to be gone.
The guide then whispered, "Sing the chief a song."
Again, the Maori guide bent my ear,
"Have your tribe do a song near and dear."
'Take Me Out to the Ball Game' invaded my mind.
Could I get away with that this time?
I asked my tribe to all pitch in.
And we all sang loudly that sporting hymn.
Congratulations were given, a job well done.
Everyone cheered as they had much fun.
I was so glad that things worked out.
Would I do it again? Without a doubt!
Clear the table
Line the books along the shelves
Everyone join in
Arrange the chairs so none can fall
Naughty children don’t pitch in
Under chairs and under tables check we haven’t missed a toy
Paints and brushes put away
Toys are all picked up for today
I read a story as we wait
Mom’s or Dad’s are on their way
Everyone its time to go…..I hope you had a real fun day