Best Pith Poems
Of Pith and Tar
Leaves are burning, bleeding and turning
their insides all running out
I see the fires of forests churning
before the Lorax can shout
Towers and spires are pouring out gas
clouds tumbling over skies on the lake
students seem to be crying during Sunday mass
angry about their fathers being fake
The bushes had a dream one time
a future that could have been bright
but the bells have all begun to chime
waking them up in the chaos of this blistering night
I heard that there used to be hope
that somewhere in time there was a stitch
but I guess we missed the boat
because the roots are all drowning in black pitch
Pith and tar
gone so far
can't see the light of day
Bled so much
from devil's touch
nothing left but to pray
sorrows of the fir
the birch and the oak
heaven can't help anymore
because of the golden rules we broke
Pith and tar
lasting scar
can't believe we did this
Pith and tar
the land we marred
no more nature's bliss
my maiden had a kiss for me
but she left it under guard
protected by a juniper tree
one that is splintered and charred
So much for future
so little left to have to hold
the world tried to care and nurture
but all we had was coal and gold
the mountains are all felled
the valleys under tar and fires
we praised false gods and yelled
but all we are in truth are liars
Writing: the great obliteration
of self-consciousness by an
untamed ego seeking
anonymous companionship
Writing is vanity,
except in the bathroom,
where vanity lies beneath,
and is replaced up top
by a truth-telling device
called a mirror.
PHILADELPHIA PITH AND PHILTER
You'll breath her essence as her love's implied
upstairs from where she drank her watered wine,
and for an hundred dollars she has cried
to make you feel the man and feel just fine;
her Afro is all curling in your hair
and as the beat goes on it ups the price
to be two hundred and you put it there
on her nightstand so love can come on twice.
Her pith's exagerated twice as much
in hopes you have three hundred more to pay,
and you explode just from her second touch
to show you black is beautiful her way.
And taking break, she calls for more champaigne
while raising heat so you can come again.
South Philly is her home, but whom she lays
comes from the suberbs just the same as you,
the trash that lines the streets is trash that stays
no matter what do-gooders try and do;
all putrid is the smell out on her street
but you've forgotton what's reality
you're only here to let your bodies meet
and number three has not come on for free!
Concerning for your hubcaps is too brief
and though you've heard it, she makes you forget,
for time is getting on, and time's the thief
more than the thieves that daylight's never met;
up on the roof there beats a summer rain
at which you swear then enter her again.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
PHILADELPHIA PITH AND PHILTER
You'll breath her essence as her love's implied
upstairs from where she drank her watered wine,
and for an hundred dollars she has cried
to make you feel the man and feel just fine;
her Afro is all curling in your hair
and as the beat goes on it ups the price
to be two hundred and you put it there
on her nightstand so love can come on twice.
Her pith's exagerated twice as much
in hopes you have three hundred more to pay,
and you explode just from her second touch
to show you black is beautiful her way.
And taking break, she calls for more champaigne
while raising heat so you can come again.
South Philly is her home, but whom she lays
comes from the suberbs just the same as you,
the trash that lines the streets is trash that stays
no matter what do-gooders try and do;
all putrid is the smell out on her street
but you've forgotton what's reality
you're only here to let your bodies meet
and number three has not come on for free!
Concerning for your hubcaps is too brief
and though you've heard it, she makes you forget,
for time is getting on, and time's the thief
more than the thieves that daylight's never met;
up on the roof there beats a summer rain
at which you swear then enter her again.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Pithy, a word so wise and witty
from travels that take us from wood to city
and in the magnificence of the tallest of the trees
races the gusty winds heavy with their breeze
and why is this today such a tragedy
when the falling warm brings only destruction and storm
so many denying the threats mankind has formed.
For Maureen McGreavy's Pithy Pants contest
2/19/19
peel me an orange
sweet reward beneath the pith~
life's like an orange
ContestA fruity haiku
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Contest Judged: June 13th, 2025 4:54:00 PM
Placement: Third