Best Presenter Poems
Written by Gail DeBole on October 16, 2014
Updated on October 21, 2014
Note: All unscheduled times are for unplanned miracles.
Monday – 1:00 a.m. - Protect William so that he survives a tragic car accident.
10:00 a.m. - Greet new arrivals to heaven with orientation and tour.
Tuesday – 11:00 a.m.
Attend the funeral of Janet to guide her spirit.
Wed. – 3:00 p.m. – Guide Arthur out of a coma.
4:00 p.m. and on - Help trapped families escape a flood.
Thurs. – 5:50 a.m. - Put the idea for this poem inside Gail's head.
7:00 a.m. - Get wings manicured and halo adjusted.
8:00 a.m. - Look for a more comfortable white puffy cloud to live on.
9:00 a.m. - Attend team meeting with other Angels.
4:00 p.m. - Attend Celestial Happenings meeting.
(Group for Angels to share experiences.)
Weekend Mornings - Attend half-day seminars. Presenter: God
Categories:
presenter, god, humor, religious, uplifting,
Form:
List
From the depth of my heart
springs forth a fountain of gratitude
reaching out to your majestic seat
in my most humbled attitude
I'm thankful for the moments I grew dim sight
and you stepped in to give your light
the moments I was imprisoned by fright
and you gave me wings to take my flight
soaring even to greater heights
I'm grateful for those freezing cold nights
you availed me shelter and warmth
also for the days my ways weren't right
yet, you never rid me off your breath
I'm thankful that I could still smile
despite situations that made my senses go whirl
you ensured i didn't become an imbecile
even when my heart was immensely Vile
you didn't petition me in your case file
I'm grateful for those awkward times
when I didn't get all I thought I deserved
you knew better that they were sour limes
rather, you served me chilled sweet Oranges from your reserve
If words were to be green grasses
I'd have offered you a thick forest
If I were to be a World-class artist
I'd have painted you my GRATEFUL HEART
If I was created as an Angel
I'd have sang you an incessant THANK YOU
Since I'm but a Writer and presenter
I've scribbled you these lines
presenting it before the earth's multitude
in expression of my utmost gratitude
to your existing splendid magnitude
-Ngozi Omachi
Categories:
presenter, thanks, thanksgiving,
Form:
Rhyme
Few Words, Few pictures, News
Thousand narrations to same story
Every day a new story
…
Journalism, an art to write
Whether truth is perceived or false
None care, just write it.
…
Coverage of war or peace
Hidden remains the agenda of brokers
Cameraman with presenter on TV
…
What is shown, repeat telecast?
Same images, and same footage again
As seen on cable TV
…
Magazine, periodicals, articles and letters
People read and contribute searching truth
Some are victims, others spectators
…
Morphed I did see, pictures
Some well crafted, some under bad hands
Every agency has a news
…
Reports, articles, statistics and surveys
Core contents of the daily news papers
2 page news, rest advertisements.
…
New flash, breaking news and updates
Presidential speeches, parliament debates and reality shows
Twenty four seven TV channeled
…
Melodies, drums and orchestra played
Dramas, shows, politricks and business
Echoing; let the shows begin.
…
FT, BBC, CNN, News corp. Siasat
Created, supplied, edited, published, blogged, or uploaded
Chinese whisper crawl in their veins.
…
28.29/04/10
Categories:
presenter, allegory, death, dedication, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
Quotes:
"I hate maths, when I was a kid there was always have a maths problems subject, maths problem, and I have to solve it... Why I have to solve it? Why don't the maths grow up and solve his own problem?"
Quotes by: Deddy Corbuzier , Indonesian Magician & Presenter
Categories:
presenter, funny, humorous,
Form:
Nervous Hands
Did you know nervous hands can cause problems?
Let me tell you, folks, I know they can!
Hear my tale of a fidgety woman
and her equally jittery man.
At a conference, they became restless
as the speaker just droned on and on.
Though they tried to give him their attention,
they just couldn’t. Each stifled a yawn.
He began to drum HARD on the table
with his fingernails—thumpity-thump.
The presenter and others shot daggers
with their eyes at this troublesome chump.
Then he popped EVERY one of his knuckles,
dropped his papers all over the floor,
rattled change in his pockets—jing-jingle.
Sitting by them, I silently swore.
She was busy with her own distractions,
searching noisily through her huge purse
for her Bic, which she clicked with great fervor.
Could things possibly get any worse?
Yes! She rattled a hard-candy wrapper
in each hand on and on with true verve.
Then she “combed” her long hair with her fingers.
These two trounced on my very last nerve!
You must wonder why nobody told them,
“You can leave, or we’ll toss you head first.”
You just can’t eject business owners
even when they’re the absolute worst!
written in anapestic meter
July 30, 2018, entered in Nina Parmenter's A Rattling Rhyme Contest
Categories:
presenter, anger, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I was watching a TV debate
The programme was running too late
Several topics had to be discussed
The participants they would not be rushed
The studio lights were set low
As arguments swept to and fro
Fingers pointing and tempers got lost
In this satire of low budget cost
Political issues created uproar
As inflation was all set to soar
Then the balance of the euro and so
The economy recovery so slow
But the thing that made me so laugh
Was this, cos it sounded so daft
The presenter on his feet he did shift
And ended a debate ho so swift
He said, ladies and gents may I please
End this discussion on African disease
Time is passing so fast
There is one more discussion, one last
He stood there microphone in his hand
And cut the last argument so he can
Debate the
“end of the world”
Before the
“end of the programme”
Categories:
presenter, funny,
Form:
Limerick
All The Ghosts
Families hushing
Around crackling transistors,
Like the sound of rushing
And muffled whispers,
And all the ghosts enter
Through a heart-shaped door
Where a nervous presenter
Is announcing war.
Post cards and kit bags
Are strewn in the hall,
Their tears and nametags
Says it all,
And waving goodbye
To their husbands and sons
Are the wives who will cry
For the enemy guns.
Marching tin soldier,
Like a puppet, a toy,
Not much older
Than someone's little boy,
All the ghosts mothers
And all the ghosts wives
Dream under covers
Far from their lives.
A brave volunteer,
An unwilling conscript
Toast the same fear
In fields of conflict,
"To the bittersweet irony
Of life and death"
They breathe, admiringly,
The enemies breath.
When words left unspoken,
To our heroes, are said,
Some return broken
And some return dead,
Where a million hearts grieve
As they are laid to rest
And all the ghosts leave
Through holes in their chest.
© RJVHorton2015
Categories:
presenter, war,
Form:
Rhyme
When You Really Discern…
‘Why The Drama?’ Pattern
and Pending-Adoration,
Pertains-Peroration
When You Perceive…
Who Demands and Why?... Proceed…
… to Ply and Pry to Ascertain…
’ He Deserves This Portion-Acclaim’
and Drumming-Heart, Soulful-Desire…
and Defer-Strength to Dry-Pyre
and Humble-Pie, Donated-Data –
in Your Plea-Bargain-Brain- Por-Nada
Disperse the Diaspora
Prefer Real-Deal and Retain Prerogative-Honor
To, The Divine and Peerless…
Person of God – of Pure-Spirits
… Whose Personage Positively…
Remains Due-Homage and Dignity
…The Pinnacle…
Of The Direct-Pact - Empirical
Drawn and Done,
with His Precious DayStar-Son,
Who Deigned to Come
by The Father’s Decree…
Was Dispatched with Poise-Prudently
as Probe and Provision…
for Our Poverty and Pleurisy-Drain-Derision
He is The Pivot-Portrayal of Royal…
and Portal-To-Pace-Immortal
This Diadem-Prince-Progeny…
of Dazzling Famed-Piety and Propriety!
The Possessor and Presenter
and The Permission-for-us-to Speak and Palace-Enter
The Premium-Derivative-Son,
This Potentate Happy One...
Proof-Explained and Patent-Won
Delving Mysteries; Described Memories;
Drawing Forth Miracle-Draperies
and In Deference…
As A Pro-Dative – Proconsul-Presence…
He Maintains Preference
and Displays: That, The Dynamic-Will…
and Determined-Purpose Still,
Definitely, is Top-Priority…
One… and The Preeminent-Same… Pardon-Plea
He Is The Presiding – Deciding-Door-Key…
Precisely! - Praise-Accordingly!
For We Are Wind-Swept, Droves of Dust…
Dirt and Air-Gusts,
Now, Plundered-Seeds… Still-Planted…
Packed to Earth, Properly-Contained and Patted
if We Continue to Divide…
Disfigure, Pilfer and Hide
From SonShine, then in Dirty-Prairie…
We’ll be Permanent-Lain- and Perjury
If ‘We Choose’ to Develop…
Too Low-Down, to Peel-Hope
or Plow-Perverted…
The Preview, We’ll Not Regain…(We Deserted!)
Its Our Duty and Delight…
to Reach Dawn-Heights
and Par-Policy: Dump Rotted Produce…
and Pitch-Pit-Grain- Pro-Ruse
Categories:
presenter, allegory, dedication, devotion, faith,
Form:
Alliteration
IN A TIME OF MICRO-IDENTITIES
At my Unitarian Universalist Society
no one is Jane Doe or Jack Spratt anymore!
A person being introduced or referenced for their
political, social or spiritual wisdom, their positive
impact on business, industry, education or community,
inter-faith connectivity or even their potential for
simple friendship and warmth, must be presented and
pre-validated by their ethnicity and race, their religion,
place of origin, their sexual irregularity, behavioral
irregularities, and any number of special pronouns or nouns
that have multiplied like weeds after a soaking late spring
rain or like non-native species of flora or fauna,
imported to address problems both real and imagined,
that have become prolific and invasive, pervasive and
problematic in unintended ways, like the popular new
sport called “daring us to get it wrong”….
These micro identifications give the person being
presented an unnecessary social asterisk that divides our
collective focus, fogging up the intended message, diluting
the joy of engagement, perhaps rendering inconsequential the
reason they are even there!
They are no longer simply folks but a type, a brand, perhaps
another public admonition to check our social attitudes, maybe
scold ourselves a little, and it makes me irritated rather than
appreciative, jaded rather than enthusiastic, somehow
cornered rather than free, a little wary of presenter and
presented, more weary of division, classification and the
perpetually annoying tactics of moral correctitude!
My pronouns, as you can see, are he, him and his, as normal
as water and oxygen in our planet’s biosphere, but more
important are my aspirational adjectives: open, giving and loving,
which admittedly, I’ve discovered, are subject to tidal fluctuations,
my diurnal disposition reaching out and pulling back. But this
disclosure not-withstanding, let the person and the message speak
for themselves like the sun speaks of light and the moon,
like my wife, speaks subtly in phases about sunlight at night!
Let our penchant for insight and moral validity allow us
to determine if speaker and word bring us clarity and truth,
encourages our efforts to find ourselves in each other in this
reckless adventure we call humankind!
Categories:
presenter, society,
Form:
Free verse
Last year around this time,
We were all watching, waiting although it was Super white.
And then Leo won(finally, the academy being relieved of that atrocious crime).
This year I can't help agreeing, the academy is right
Although Miranda kind of lost with his song in Moana,
But wait for it, the Oscars in its height, around midnight-
That's when everybody sits on the sofa,
"Oh, I think La La Land will win this year, let me make that clear
Moonlight was a tearjerker but it is not in the same league by even one iota!"
So the time nears,
The Presenter enters, hugs and kisses exchanged
Applause, whispers, cheers and jeers
La la land's destiny fulfilled,
But "hold on, wait, the show runner's got something to say to y'all
Moonlight is the winner after all!"
The drama, the suspense, the rigged, and unrigged,
we just close one eye and wave in nonchalance," Well, it's Hollywood"
Maybe there is something we are ignoring,
Maybe there is some conspiracy,
Some deep dark secret.
maybe it's just the universe playing a cruel jape
Maybe it's nothing, we are overreacting
Just like we overreact to so many things.
So what if a large orange Monster rules over the world?
So what if Britain is not a part of EU?
One day we will realise,
To our dismay.
That the human kind did not survive until today if we are made of clay.
Everything will be okay.
And we will keep surviving regardless of whatever surprises the galaxy throws our way
So dust off your troubles,
If you keep worrying.
Things will be alright.
Someday.
Categories:
presenter, america, community, conflict, discrimination,
Form:
Rhyme
She is one of many, dear Eleanor secluded
in her secular sepulcher,
One of the lonely plenty, a regular within the
anonymous atoms nebular…
Dreamed of rice, at her wedding
with her sorrows spreading,
She paid the price, with tears shedding
and one pillow bedding…
Of her loneliness, the nights in waiting
never participating,
Perhaps erroneous, her heart pulsating
and will abating…
All her lonely people, avoiding the sun
hurting no one,
Brings them to the steeple, with prayers none
trying to outrun...
Father McKenzie, could not help Eleanor
a social predator,
In his frenzy, using sermons as to metaphor
a false presenter.
Rest in peace Eleanor Rigby...
Aug.07.2019
Eleanor Rigby Who was she
Sponsored by: Jerry T Curtis
Background music by
Jake Shimabukuro
Eleanor Rigby
(HiSessions.com Acoustic Live!)
With a female virtual voice
N/A for contest
Categories:
presenter, eulogy, loneliness, woman,
Form:
Rhyme
A cacophony of thoughts swirls in my confused mind.
Yesterday was quiet and peaceful, everything moving
on well-oiled rails. Suddenly the train of memories
accelerated and now things will never be as before.
A letter came from a well-known TV presenter.
We found your mother, my friend, he said.
Ruminations of lilac and black oscillated tempestuously
Through the corridors of my marshy mind. What was I to do?
Did I want to meet my unknown mother or not?
I had never met her and to do so now seemed I was
crossing a turbulent river, eddying all around.
My mother had to give me up when I was just a baby.
I don’t blame her. There was a war and she could not
give me the care I needed. But she always regretted
her decision and wanted me back. She got her wish
three lonely decades after she lost sight of me.
A decision had to be made, shall I meet her or not?
I had never seen her face, nor her mien, nor heard her talk.
But blood is thick and deep in my heart I knew
I had to meet her. An appointment was made, and there was no
turning back. There she was and my heart leapt with joy.
It was not her looks or how she talked. It was just
the intuition. She was my mum and I hugged her and found
great appeasement, bliss, euphoria and above all peace.
Fiction, please.
Categories:
presenter, happiness, mother,
Form:
Free verse
Good Times
To the Poetry Soup Planning Committee,
many thanks for the great job you’ve done!
Paris weather in August is perfect.
The convention was glorious fun.
I can’t deem one experience greatest.
Every moment of each day was grand.
All the readings and speeches inspired me;
not one workshop was boring and bland.
The presenter who translated poems
of the French masters mesmerized me,
and I’ll not forget Hotel Da Vinci
and the Louvre, with such wonders to see!
On the last night, our dinner at Galette
was divine. Then we had to go home.
Hope it’s not too soon to make suggestions:
Let’s have next year’s convention in ROME!
Written in anapestic meter
If we really had a convention like this one, I'd have to rob a bank to afford it!
Date: March 7, 2019
Contest Title: The First Annual Poetry Soup Convention
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Categories:
presenter, fun, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Calindae knows everything
She is the expert of all
I sit next to her during meetings
For there might be group work
And I know she will grab the poster board
And the markers and do it her way
Such a relief
Knowing I have to do nothing
As she loves being the spokesperson also
Others try to get next to her too,
Sometimes there are a line of us.
Luckily, I am aggressive and
Not afraid to bare the teeth I have left
This is the advantage of being in your sixties
In a group of twenties and thirties who are easily frightened
This last meeting was rather sweet.
She yelled "I KNOW THESE! I KNOW THESE!"
Grabbing the fill-in-the-blank form from all of us who did not care.
No one else reached or glanced but she did not notice.
She wrote large, with a flourish.
When it came time to present everyone acted reluctant.
So I yelled out "Calindae has the answers!"
She gave me a look of love and began reading
Loudly and proudly.
"Sorry," the presenter said," You got one right. The rest are wrong."
Calindae spent the rest of the time arguing with the presenter.
Which means we did not have to fill out the survey
Because we had run out of time.
I will be racing to get this seat every week!
Categories:
presenter, 12th grade, funny, satire,
Form:
Free verse
Messed Up On Poetry Contest Entry
I messed up on North Carolina poetry
contest entry. Deadline was March 1, 2017.
Am sending them to you instead
Successful Story of my Poem
Poem to you did intend to send,
After page would fold and bend;
This envelope poem will contain,
And to read should never refrain.
Poem is over finished and done;
And this will be the greatest one;
Your contest I did enter it into;
Winner am certain that is true.
When I won then would realize
Received Pulitzer Prize in disguise;
Am happy not wearing a frown;
My poem became world renown.
My Poem Became Center
Of attention, my poem became center;
Into your contest it did decide to enter;
Knew for sure subjected that I selected,
Your attention drew and had collected;
Award to me am glad you are presenter.
Jim Horn
At least, you get to read them.
Categories:
presenter, allegory, analogy, humorous,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry