Best Postal Poems
We are the deliverers of the United States mail.
Even when there is rain, snow, sleet, and hail,
in our daily services, we will not fail.
We deliver letters and packages to where you work and live.
Nothing but good service is what we have to give.
inspired by another member's poem
(Voting Republican)
Who’d have thought that our nation would ever go postal,
Past sin perhaps brings our demise?
From our ancestral guilt at the treatment of Indians,
(Enrichment by gun’s artifice)
To enslavement of innocents branded by color?
Misanthropic beginnings forged seeking our freedom
Duplicity seen as our Right
We then took on the armor of people we hated
Our fear and greed clouding our sight
Could our brokenness truly be hope for all nations?
Undeserving we worship stale Gods and past glory,
New Testament’s cautions, lost art,
As now saving yourself is the Trump-phatic message
God’s grace has no place in our heart,
Self promotion the sand that his lunacy stands on.
Kings of science denial and nails in Christ’s coffin
Christ buried is their promised land,
And the sharing of wealth is a communist mantra
To love is a foolish demand.
A fool’s take on the Bible is what they call Gospel.
For the mighty will fall and their pride turn to ashes
God grant that Trump’s time will come soon
As his follower’s goosestep their way off life’s pathway
This piper just plays a sad tune!
But would taxpayer sponsored elections improve things?
Brian Johnston
December 24, 2015
At the Depot
As the snow flies, on a cold and grey December dawn
to waiting homes no mails are borne
from the depot.
Phil Bloggs, a mailman, scans the news
but his screwed up tabloid gives him the blues
saying 'To compromise both sides refuse,'
at the depot.
Hark! Foxes, stray cats, rats, critters all.
though humans languish, have a ball
in the depot.
On letters, parcels and Christmas boxes
little mice play, as do foxes.
Such a sight you never saw.
as stray dogs chew and rodents gnaw
in the depot.
What fleshpots in sealed parcels beckon
hungry vermin, who can reckon
in the depot?
What meaty dish, what luscious pie
teeters in a box stacked high?
No robber cries 'stand and deliver'
though many freeze and many shiver.
Phil Bloggs turns to another page
and what he reads puts him in rage
in the depot.
For guns and rockets billions go through
but for impoverished nurses barely a sou
in the ghetto.
Our postal system
Mostly sucks
And we should let it die
It losing money
Consequently
The cost of mail’s too high
Mailing a package
Is a pain
You’ll have to stand in line
Five windows are there
Four are bare
During the peak business time
E-mail came along
Letters mailed
No need to buy a stamp
The postal income
Took a drop
Too late now to revamp
Let private business
Run the show
Expect efficiency
Competition will
Then produce
Needed proficiency
Godzilla likes to terrorize
And bring fear in peoples lives
When he took an anger fit
Tokyo destroyed bit by bit
Fiery eyes full of hate
Not one second he would wait
To start tearing down
A big city he has found
And used as a fun game
While hotness and red flame
Rage out of his mouth and nose
Temper rises as he shows
His ability to cause
A lot of suffering and loss
To whoever's in his path
His postalness is growing fast
So run as far as you can
This monsters getting out of hand
And wont stop anytime soon
His enjoyments spreading doom
As he goes on more rampage
Using Tokyo as a stage
To perform a play that will
Go on cause he likes the thrill
Vintage Postal Stamp ( Poem )
Turn of the century Vintage Stamps
Traceable history make value enhance
Prices get higher as the years go by
Dream of finding one valued so high
Extremely fine with the perfect gum
Designer flaws bring high premium
Famous from error illustration
Collection of art inspiration
We are crazy for detailed graphics
Finding rare depends on the markets
Unused are the old collectibles
Their worth can be unbelievable
View history with a new focus
My playlist is something to notice
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWSq_PMWxD9rf9MI0i2eIzSz4thTFPlqy
By : Doris Anne Beaulieu
There is no place for me to go
I'll spend my life right here I know,
I lost my job then lost my dough
Last night I lost my bride with adio'!
I stayed the straight and narrow road,
And carried, always, my own load.
Missed not a day of work, I'm told,
For twenty years. No pocket watch of gold?
It tore my heart apart you see;
They threw me out then tossed the key
Without a nod to loyalty
Or help me find a job at fifty-tjree.
So now I'm standin' over daddy's grave,
Ten days from calm to ragin' full-blown rave;
Hey daddy! I'm no good and I'm not brave
But I'll be killin' souls your God can't save:
I'm hopin for a score of fifty-three
One soul for every year of wretched me.
I do remember daddy tellin' me when I was young -
"I'm proud my son of every single song I've ever sung,
Because the wrongs I found in life to fire and ice were flung!
The Good Book said to cling to IT so to IT I have clung -
That Book was good to me young son and helped me climb each rung."
An unsophisticated man from birth until you died,
But damn it dad you took me to the brink of suicide;
I grew to be not me but you and you died satisfied.
But dad, life spent denying truth denied the Wolves outside.
I took a look at your Good Book and found profound its way -
Make sure you do to those who did to you and don't delay!
Hey dad, I thought I'd share with you, I bought my gun today
And it's a beaut you'd love to shoot and help me bag my prey;
But in the grave you stay to serve your well deserved decay.
I wish that I could do to you what I must do to them;
For you put all the evil in me I can't seem to stem.
My heart and body, now my blood, is turning pus and phlegm,
But when they're dead then I'll have fed my sweet revenge its gem,
So I can turn and kill myself and evil you did breed.
You lit your pious Book up bright, why not your evil seed?
The Postal Worker
The lady behind the counter,
she takes my packages,
and gives me, "looks"...
when I tell her I write books,
and request to send my items
media mail.
It is much cheaper by far,
to send my words to another place,
printed between covers,
I design.
It is a way of sending tangible expressions
to friends, family, and strangers...
soon to be friends, and claimed family
without going broke.
No joke.
I love to send just simple cards,
things that I create.
But sometimes it is my fate,
to write more things down,
like a clown...
in a rodeo at a show,
giving the cowboy time to get away...
free and clear from harm,
with charm.
My hair grows red,
as I am fed crackers,
by the parrot
that lives in the zoo
with a few...
wild peacocks
that make stew
for the rabbits to eat.
You see how my feet wander?
They go all over and back.
Undelivered thoughts
Stuck in a postal limbo
Like lost love letters
With the only proof they were,
Random shouts in solitude
let me introduce myself and where im from
my name is mc hearing aid and im a big huge bum
bummy, moochy ,lazy ,slacker , unmotivated
nudisiplined, unruly, and undereducated
unemployed and unreliably
under achiever under qualified, and thats undenible
but minimum wage yeah thats for suckers
id rather live under the bridge again , man boff these slugger buffers
over worked and under paid youd think thats torture enough
the boss still has the nerve to nag about ridiculous stuff
why are you in turtle mode, this is work not fun
i said shut up before i go columbine kid mode and bring in a gun.
pretend this is a video game , play mars attacks with everyone
they said go home you need some rest, but you can bet
the next day they tried to press charges for making a terroristic threat
it was before 911 that i did this crime
i guess im just a visionary , ahead of my time
the boys im blue were there to cuff me when the shop reopened
but a red light in my minds third eye stopped me from getting broken
i was 3 hours late for work that day u want to know why
because i was hi, because i was high, because i was high
the police got bored and left, i didnt have to go to jail
can you believe they fired me over this minor detail
I feel like I can go now,
I don't know that somehow,
It is just for the show,
The boat starts to row,
I began to go with the flow,
No matter if the tide is low,
It is what I reap and sow.
It is a sense of fashion,
It is still my passion,
There is nothing to mention,
I put on a lotion,
It is not a love potion,
I set myself into motion.
Torned pages turned into a papyrus tree,
Exciting fireworks set into a glee,
The spotlight hit the same place,
To save some private space,
What is it all about just to set me free?
The hind of salt and pepper,
The seasoning is proper,
I know it is a show-stopper,
I don't need a kitchen helper,
To set my meal on the table.
Let it be sunny,
Look, there is the bunny,
A pot of honey,
Pour into the glistening of willing,
I saw myself being silly.
Old saying: Rain or snow, sleet or hail, the mail must go out.
2/13/2010 Saturday,
My fellow Americans, the US postal service has let us down, a light 4 inches of snow kept
the mail truck from traveling sixty miles to our town, south of Atlanta. It is a sad day, one
that I will never forget; it will go down in infamy as the day, old sayings have been proved
unreliable. Life as we know it will never be the same!!
To join our class action law suit please sign in the box below, and forward on to your
congress person.
this I must confess
left letter at wrong address
became a big mess
Postal Service Horn Haiku
(This is a fictional poem)
Last week I received a letter that said I won a million dollar sweepstake.
I got so mad that I started to shake.
I know that the postal service can be slow.
But this letter was mailed to me twenty years ago.
I went to the post office to complain about this.
But believe it or not, they said it was good service.
They said that because of the postal service's inefficiency, I was lucky to get the
letter at all.
That pissed me off so I kicked the postmaster in the balls.
But that turned out to be a federal offense.
I was arrested and now I'm facing a lengthy prison sentence.
Now I will rot in jail.
All because of the inefficiency of the mail.
Do not treat my love like a slender stamp
Left dormant day by day upon the desktop
Quiescent, quiet, I quarrel with my integrity
For I want more than ice-cream and lolly-pop licks
For I have shown responsibility and trust
For I too inquire to be desired
Teasing me with your tongue while tampering with love written memoirs to
someone else
You send me away
But one day I'll come back to you when you forget
his address