Best Purists Poems
Note : as an experiment i took a random article from the newspaper and extracted phrases from it to eventually form this sonnet. A fun exercise!
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Economic purists say, relief should,
Never have been given in the first place.
Whether that is true or not, perception,
Has always been politically good.
Sensitive issues, as they have and could,
Ever been percieved as assisting in grace.
Relief to be aboloshed! Reflection –
Affordability is understood.
However, now it is to be removed,
People shouldn’t get alarmed, the market
Change to this would deem, respite is disproved.
Any mortgage taken out – we regret.
For seven tax years by that date – and yet
We believe this is the case – hmmm, approved!
Categories:
purists, political
Form:
Sonnet
He was out of Woodie Wonder by the stallion Sunset Hue,
A freak thought breeding purists, who would surely end up glue.
For greys were so unfashionable he'd never get a start,
But this colt was a fighter with a truly valiant heart.
His origins were New South Wales, but sold up Queensland way,
'Twas Pippos, Coorey, Bishop and McMicking bought the grey.
A Goondiwindi syndicate, who gave the colt his name;
Gunsynd ... the punter's darling ... who raced his way to fame.
He'd never be a Peter Pan, a Carbine or Phar Lap,
No Tullock or a Galilee, but still a gallant chap.
Bill Whelow was his trainer and John Edmonds rode The Grey,
Till finally at Eagle Farm this colt was on his way.
It was the Hopeful Stakes that day in nineteen sixty-nine,
Young Gunsynd flashed from thirteenth place to cross the winner's line.
His trademark was his courage, his will to want to win
And how he made the crowds all stand to cheer the grey horse in.
They loved The Grey's performances; a showman through and through
And though he never always won they saw him as true blue.
Before and after races, he would play the press and crowd
By standing to attention while they clapped and cheered aloud.
With twelve wins to his credit Tommy Smith was now the chap,
Who trained Gunsynd while Langby won the Epsom Handicap.
He was the punter's darling, for he never squibbed a race,
That's why the folk all loved him, for he never did lose face.
The white and purple colours were well known at ev'ry track,
Australia's best known jockeys sat astride old Gunsynd's back.
The likes of Olsen, Higgins and young Langby rode The Grey
And flashed to blist'ring finishes, he raced no other way.
In over fifty starts Gunsynd had twenty-nine great wins;
Some eight point five times second placed, but took it on the chin.
Six thirds and unplaced in ten starts throughout those grand five years,
His name was up there with the best who'd raced to great careers.
Though sold to stud in New South Wales, Kia Ora down near Scone,
Queenslanders all adopted him and saw him as their own.
He'd put old Gundy on the map and right down to this day
Gunsynd is still remembered as The Goondiwindi Grey.
Categories:
purists, animals, history, sports, old,
Form:
Ballad
The Great Migration
Millions of shoeless feet stomping across Europe
an unstoppable horde of the rootless and hungry
humanity mostly from Africa.
the human wave is a tsunami no wall however
tall can withstand it and Europe will change from
white to brown and there will be a synthesis of
cultures both exciting and frightening.
Great books will be written by those not yet born but
will represent the new Europe and make sense of it.
I will not be there, but I think Europe will prevail.
When only snow is white the new people will overcome
the barriers of the race purists who tried to stop them
Categories:
purists, appreciation, beauty, blessing, blue,
Form:
Sonnet
Nobody wants a well, when there is sadness...
A few drops are enough, to bring on rain!
The world is full, of sorrow, and of madness!
Nobody needs the bottom of the drain...
The purists count emPHASis and sylLABles!
They like to see beans laid out, in a row!
They have no patience with an one, who babbles!
Believe the Sun should not put on a show!
But... we need purists, for they keep us clean!
Demand a higher standard of the lazy!
They state: 'it's not enough to be serene!'
(And unneeded enjambment
Drives 'em crazy!)
But we can only meet their standards, if
The while we write, we're clinging to a cliff!
Categories:
purists, appreciation, humor, hyperbole, poetry,
Form:
Sonnet
Summer hath come, May blocked the sun, son, yet I know you read this Jedi
poetry.
Airwaves reek of radiation, reverberation stagnant holds no key.
Here we, hear yee, Kings of Alchemy
everyday, every way, mopping floors like janitors, scientists of style, fluidity.
Yet, have you ever seen "Good Will Hunting?" "How do ya' like 'dem apples!?!"
Faces fraught with pale, we do not understand or yet fully comprehend what it
is being accomplished here.
Still, week after week, we build this small community of ambition through
attrition. We pour out our souls...FOR WHAT? Bickering in this pan, flash
flooding through months supposedly in a drought. But, FOR WHAT"S IT ALL
ABOUT. (or Aboot, for my Canadian brother's and sisters)
I give thanks for your interaction, but will not accept judgment of the few. In
fact, purists, I will address you too, by flying high my middle finger, resisting
the itch to even edit this "worthless excuse for a poem". But I know better
than to pester you much more than that. For I too, need readers, and you're
dropping like flies in protest. Still I say: "You're pissed off, it sure beats
getting pissed on!" Perhaps the world really fades to black when everyone
stops talking of you.
There is not much I believe in firmly as the Universe/Multiverse is a million
white canvases. But I, and I do mean butt-eye believe we are waking up. My
duty involves elimination of the snooze button. If wishes were coffee, I'd stir
the world hot, and see that cups overflow with pure energy. The black veil
over our many nations needs lifted, and it's gonna take full concentration,
positive motivation, and quite possibly myriads meditating.
Amen brothers and sisters!
***
If this piece doesn't resonate, I recommend one week off from television and
or video games to improve clarity. Light becomes clear when dimming what's
dumbing you down.
Categories:
purists, america, england, seasons, social,
Form:
Epic
In Central Park the crowds were out,
New York in all its glory,
With bikers, walkers, picnickers –
The same old weekend story.
The horses clip-clopped on the road,
With carriages of tourists
While singers sang with microphones
And bands without (the purists).
But always there is something new –
Today, some art creations,
Including projects for the kids
With paint or drawing stations.
What caught my eye, though, were two birds
Which shared a single goal –
To fly into a tree trunk
And to exit through a hole.
I guess there was a hidden nest
Tucked right inside the tree,
Another sighting in the park
To bring delight to me.
Categories:
purists, new york,
Form:
Rhyme
My brain... it's one of the most wonderfullest
Don't like to brag but gonna open it to tourists
So they can observe
How I manipulate words
Will bamboozle all you literary purists
Categories:
purists, devotion,
Form:
Limerick
What’s going on these days~
Is the world flip flopping on its side?
It’s the fashion of the day
To declare how we’re offended
No matter what was said
Or what we imagine was intended
We’ll put a twist on things
With much drama and sensation
Now it’s offensive to say happy holidays
Purists put up a stink
Get their nose out of joint
Their panties twisted in a knot
Offensive or not I fully intend
To continue spewing tidings and warm wishes
I’ll say happy holidays to everyone I meet
From early December on through the month
It comes from a place of love
A feeling of brotherly kindness
And sharing a mood of happiness
A hope for living in the moment
To appreciate all that’s wondrous
Happy Holidays means go be joyous
Enjoy every single moment
Of this lovely season
May your heart be filled
With cheerfulness and bliss
Like that of a child’s
Singing exuberantly
Putting up the Christmas tree
Setting up the nativity scene
Baking pies and cookies
Reaching out to family
Getting together with friends
Stirring happy memories
Happy holidays to you!
Happy happy happy holidays to all!
What’s all the buildup about?
A MERRY CHRISTMAS
To one and all
And a very HAPPY NEW YEAR
To everyone !
AP: 1st place 2020
Posted on December 20, 2019
Categories:
purists, anxiety, christmas, holiday, hope,
Form:
Free verse
My brain... it's one of the most wonderfullest
Don't like to brag but gonna open it to tourists
So they can observe
How I manipulate words
Will even bamboozle all you literary purists
Categories:
purists, wisdom,
Form:
Limerick
'THE WRITING ON THE WALL'
god hath numbered thy kingdom and brought it to an end...
porta-potties scattered around high rises
placed like sacred pillars.
a stonehenge edifice of heroin diaries
and delicate scratched cuneiform figures
scrollings of huge *****es and booby robots.
the eloquent poetry of low brow purists
along the walls they read like the neolithic monuments
of old so telling us all we need to know...
the urinal dialogs written for future posterity,
are defacing angels inscripted with lipstick and pocket knifes.
Categories:
purists, allegory,
Form:
My husband bought some ice cream –
Rather costly, but on sale.
“Organic” said the label
So assumptions did prevail…
Perhaps it would be healthy
(Though we usually don’t care)
Or made of some ingredients
Imbuing it with flair.
Instead, it tasted lousy.
Though the package called it “mint,”
Of that specific flavor
There was not the slightest hint.
The “chocolate” chips were carob,
Lacking any chocolate flavor.
I filled my bowl but sadly,
It was not a treat to savor.
The lesson to be learned is that
No matter the expense,
“Organic” equals not much taste.
(To purists – no offense.)
Categories:
purists, food,
Form:
Rhyme
The restaurant was noisy;
We shouted when we talked.
If I had been from Boise,
I’m sure I would have balked.
But all the hungry tourists
Outside Katz’s formed a line.
For deli, we’re not purists
So the other place seemed fine.
The food was mediocre;
The service merely fair,
But rain was the provoker
So we ended up in there.
Yet it was what we needed,
A refuge from the wet
So convenience superseded
The pastrami we’d not get.
Categories:
purists, food, new york,
Form:
Rhyme
Let me not play tuneless in today's time,
Some purists sure get praised as Gandhian,
Yet, crass nevertheless is no more crime,
Old values are hailed may be in heaven.
Whilst weighing values for the weathered time,
Let's mull on old saying: Thou shouldst secure
Safe income ere vouchsafing virtues pure;
So, wisdom weighs more than values' old chime.
At few places virtue may be chief good.
Some go for health, power, or reach for riches,
Or honours, a touch of pleasure pleases,
Heart has no heart in virtues, head wears hood.
Confucius with a list of values came
When values valued were at very core,
Many did talk of this out-of-fame dame,
But they managed to confuse all the more.
Holy cows when at a premium are sold,
Poor virtue as a species goes nigh rare,
In a world that today wallows in gold,
Old values get wiped out by this black mare!
A quiet virtue may conquer world's good,
Yet, virtue's prayers in silence are said
Nowhere are heard just as Lao-tse laid;
And clueless, confused I retire to brood.
Near home, digging unto our ancient text—
Mahabharata, a huge storehouse of lore,
And in today's times knee deep in context—
The epic failed to define virtue's core.
Yet, there seems but one thing to me nigh clear:
Virtue and vice, all else on death when fails,
This twain alone survives the soul when sails,
So let me virtues cheer and vices fear!
Or in today's times going in top gear,
I should my virtues fear, my vices cheer!
________________________________________
16 June 2021
For 'Jaundiced Eye' Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Categories:
purists, life, truth,
Form:
Ode
Ice cream purists like theirs plain
With nary a scintilla
Of nuts or chips or sprinkles
To deface their pure vanilla.
I see their point but disagree;
Additions have their place
And hunks of fruit or chocolate
I can easily embrace.
A vein of peanut butter swirl
Is something I can savor;
When it’s embedded in a scoop,
It multiplies the flavor.
Some chocolate covered almonds
Or some coconutty shreds
Embellish like a garment sewn
With sparkly silver threads.
A burst of buried cherries,
Like a pirate’s secret treasure,
When uncovered unexpectedly
Can fill one up with pleasure.
Of course, to purists, such advice
Is worthy of ignoring.
To me, a plain vanilla cone
Is needlessly quite boring!
Categories:
purists, food,
Form:
Rhyme
I simply can't help it, I just love to Rhyme
it may be passe, but it helps pass the time
Free verse is much cooler, of that there's no doubt
and a good Haiku's always worth talking about
Acrostic is better for those who like puzzles
and Sonnets tempt readers the words for to guzzle
a Quatrain is no pain to read or to write
a really good Chain verse can help pass a long night
Limerick's are great fun and Calligrams too
but Rhymes are the ones that I most like to do
so, sorry dear purists, if I disappoint
but if writings no fun, really, then what is the point?
Categories:
purists, humor,
Form:
Rhyme