Best Professional Poems
Lawyer,
slippery snake,
white collar criminal,
mirror image of thievery,
serpent.
For John Heck's 12-In-1...Choose Your Forte! contest.
Ted was a professional farter
and at his windy recitals he’d boast
that could even toot Moonlight Sonata
If his wife fed him baked beans on toast!
There was an annual farting competition
Held in downtown Chicago, (the ‘Windy City’)
Ted had pre-loaded his guts for the mission
To lose his title would be such a pity
Ted knew that the competition was stiff
His groaning guts how they gurgled away
He farted an exceptional guitar riff
hoping he’d be winning the trophy that day
Ted raised his left leg and let rip
But disaster was about to strike
His todger got caught in his zip
The searing agony Ted did dislike
Limping off the stage in great pain
Bitter tears fell from his blue eyes
He re-adjusted his trousers again
Could he retain that coveted prize?
Now Ted returned to his farting position
With the microphone close to his tush
And with determination and good nutrition
He farted all of ‘Mystic Rhythms’ by Rush
The audience gave Ted a standing ovation
(Lucky for them they weren’t too near the stage)
And much to Ted’s delight and jubilation
The judges thought his farting was all the rage
Ted was eventually declared the winner
And he returned home to his lovely wife
She’d prepared chicken curry for his dinner
To safeguard his job for the rest of his life!
06-30-17
After he was shot,
the doctor told her he would die,
he let her cry,
deep, heaving moans,
heart-wrenching groans,
pain that carried fear
beyond the realm of sorrow,
her son was certain to die by tomorrow,
the doctor hated himself during times like these,
she lost it as she fell to her knees,
cold, clinical, professional,
all went out the door,
the mother cradled like an infant on the floor,
nothing else he could say,
it was such a dark day,
but he didn’t turn away,
he was struck deeply by her pain,
her terror, her strain,
he couldn’t be cold, clinical, professional,
because times like this leaves an emotional stain.
Professional Poet Position 6992
For Professional Poet Position will apply;
So many of my poems started to supply;
Apprehensive,
And sensitive;
Had been horrible and me they did deny.
Jim Horn
I stare at all the stars in the sky
Like everlasting snowflakes
No two are alike
I wonder what god was thinking
Maybe they are just his
Guidance and comfort
Seeping through
I look all the trees
Wonder how many can there be
Think about insects
Their number and variety is bigger
Then my ability to pronounce
This must be gods
Overactive imagination
Seeping through
I watch my fellow humans
And all they are capable of
Masters of both hate and love
The material and physical
And how they love to create
I have come to the conclusion
That this is all an allusion
To god having O.C.D.
Probably has multiple personalities
And the devil
Is just his paranoid schizophrenia
Seeping through
In late on a late night from a long journey,
Barely in the door
She's telling funny stories of her own misfortunes.
A comedy of errors that harried her homewards.
The young woman who will always be our child
Has the lot of us laughing
When we should be asleep
At things that would've driven others
To fury or despair
But those have no hold on her,
Because bulldogs don't give up -
They just hold on.
So now she's holding on again -
A new grownup
In a too grownup world.
Schooltime over;
Lessons now born from living.
- But that's all right,
Because biting down, holding fast
Is what she does -
She's gonna chew this bone too,
The tough white bone of adulthood,
Down to a pile of fine, digestible dust
She'll make it all her own
The while she works it.
A ballade I will now begin
Why do this form I now try
Surely no contest will I win
I can see already I will cry
Rarely am I a sensitive guy
Oh what will I possibly gain
Yet again asking myself why
From this form I’ll REFRAIN
Haha I used a humorous spin
Leaving my ego to again sigh
But soon my rhymes will thin
A rhyming dictionary I do spy
Before rhyming I could say my
Surely the ballade I now stain
I got this down the first lie
From this form I’ll REFRAIN
Lol once again my ego grins
I have a smile from eye to eye
Another twist, and not the end
A near rhyme was my last reply
The form I broke, but won’t buy
For a ballade, I cannot even train
If it meant my life, surely I’d die
From this form I’ll REFRAIN
A difficult form, I cannot deny
But soon I will hit the exit lane
That ego still smiling feeling sly
From this form I’ll REFRAIN
The lesson here, don't write a ballade in 10 minutes unless you're a professional. A professional clown that is lol. I tried to stay metrically consistent, but I'm American, we don't use metric unless it's convenient, in poetry it's never convenient always forced lol.
I called a professional to help me in a task,
to lift and move out a lot of trash.
The room was full of heavy things,
and boxes of burdens that life brings.
I watched the man as he sifted through,
tossing out years of clutter too.
Once in a while he would glance at me,
doing it His way as He wanted it to be.
One by one, the pictures of times past,
got stripped from the walls from first to the last.
When he got done, he picked up a broom,
cobwebs he saw all over the room.
In the center, one thing He didn't touch
covered by His blood, for he loves so much.
There stood an altar for my praise and prayer.
He told me He would always meet me there.
My heart now has room to be filled with His love
and the things that He wants from heaven above.
I can see it in your eyes
your brain ticks over
search supplies
the lie with fall cover
Because mother always used to say be aware of those around you
their reaction to your actions giving clues how to act with them
so I did but it didn’t flick the impulse switch off
appearing distant as if I don’t look
assured I wasn’t tell me off believing I wasn’t
yell at me too need to look already was
now I looked hard saw what I shouldn’t
suddenly impulse takes control
I look so quickly at lying eyes behold
dishonesty or truth the 2 sights sold
see through whilst my impulse confuse
actions speech diverting you
insults words no filter just blurt
yet within all this I still observe
every week my psychology observed
experts spoke to my parents helped me learn
conversations of why I don’t concentrate and learn
adhd gave me selective interests
psychology one where calories invest
I was impressed my hyper mind never rests
find focus and psychology progressed
disguised by impulse so natural
paying attention looking as though I wasn’t at all
made me realise I’m unreadable
and it confuses so learnt to use this tool
random strange so you can’t work out my brain
I'm looking insane whilst I calculate game
focus on situations
knowing their intentions
what motivated seeing their options
string the circumstances
how and what is their rewarding destination to pace on
leave no chances I'm ahead
stop them became so good tease and seem close no problem
make them a fool
you think I’m cruel
avoiding a brawl
make them look small,
them target me retardently,
but I’m weird cus I get psychology
so I fight physical now psycho probably,
but if men didn’t challenge my alpha status
I would live normally,
it’s them but you blame me not their insecurities.
I was 7 or 8 when I first learnt psychology
smart people only use it in defense you see
If I see scum manipulate for selfish gain
I beat them at their own game
Basement full of odds and ends
in metal bits and comprehends
Glue and gumption, grease and grit
born from nimble hands of wit
Dimming evening, find him there
in the basement, light of care
winding ribbon through the glass
watching movies from the past
Tiny brushes, sticky paint
Clock strikes one, it's getting late
Dolls in poses, birds in wood
whittled and misunderstood
Nuts and bolts of stainless steel
forming legs and arms so real
Skylights etched from glass in lead
with words he hears inside his head
Beauty that he pours out free
stuck inanimate though they be
All these hobbies free the mind
Tinkerer, you are divine.
They complain in the morning because their night was a fright
They complain at noon because their school lunch was not right.
They complain to everyone who enters their sight
They complain and complain, long into the night.
At first these complainers are rather entertaining
They complain about their umbrellas, and the fact that it’s raining
They complain about others, not ever refraining.
But after a while, others run away from their constant complaining
They complain about the traffic, and see others as bad.
They complain about their children, whose lives must be sad.
They complain about their parents, their mom more than their dad.
They complain until they lose every almost-friend they ever had.
They complain about their life, and the heat of the sun.
They take away our energy, zap our strength, and sour our fun.
They complain about their hot dog, and its tasteless bun.
If you see one, get out of there, fast, on a dead run.
Bruce Wayne is not alone in hating Superman. The United States government is none too pleased with the last son of Krypton leveling large parts of a major city. Lex Luthor, a wealthy businessman and scientist, also hates Superman. Now, you probably couldn’t quite figure out why Lex Luthor hated Superman so much. Unlike Batman, he has no clear professional jealousy. In fact, in a brief aside, Luthor mentions the construction projects his company undertook after Superman wrecked Metropolis. If he had just kept his mouth shut and let Superman topple a few more buildings, he could have kept raking in the government contracts for decades to come. Instead, he spends most of the movie trying to get Batman and Superman to fight, then creates a monster in a pool of brown toilet water for no reason. I thought this guy was some kinda genius? It doesn’t make sense at first, but upon second viewing, it’s clear that Lex Luthor is actually a malfunctioning android and his moronic behavior is due to his circuits being fried. Every bizarre character choice can be chalked up to what I like to call the “Android Defense”. Something happened in Batman v Superman that doesn’t make any sense? It was probably done by a secretly malfunctioning robot
http://2013.nyccamp.org/event/chimphdhqz-watch-batman-v-superman-dawn-justice-free-full-movie-online-hd.
A manager worried about how many pens
used in a month
can barely sleep, dreaming of running out
of ink, and how pencils aren't professional-
shouldn't everything be typed now
anyway? Even this poem
is Times New Roman, pondering
the merits of Comic Sans,
while a memo is sent on behalf
of an executive vice president,
wishing everyone Happy Holidays,
but also warning of the need
for cost cutting in the new year.
From: Dollar Store Blues (Published 2022)
time seems sometimes to stand so still
and seems to have raced by while I was spending it
I now have a rather large and growing collection
of un fulfilled dreams
I tell myself it's a minor scheduling problem
I can't believe it yet
It saves time
worrying how much is left
PANED REFLECTIONS
Here lies the glazier, Peter Lee
His wife is shattered, naturally!
LAST NIGHTS ON THE TILES
Alas poor Joe, I knew him well
He fixed my roof before he fell!
SNAKE IN THE GRASS
Here lie the bones of Jones the vet
Inside his boa constrictor pet!
HE KNEW HIS STUFF
Ted, taxidermist, here doth lie
He stuffed himself with too much pie!
HAMMERED HOME
Here lies my auctioneer friend, Ron
His final ‘going, going gone!’
14/09/18