Best Quite Common Poems
Our problems all began with the industrial revolution
And its legacy has left us with toxic pollution.
Climate change is real and been declared a code red
And if we chose to ignore it, we'll all end up dead.
It's not a new problem, they've been saying it for years
Driven by greed and profit now there will be tears.
Ice caps are melting, I'm sure you already know
And soon the polar bears will have nowhere to go.
Sea and river levels are a worry as they continue to rise
Houses and cars swept away before our very eyes.
Wildfires are quite common now the air is so dry
Many people lose their homes, sadly many of them die.
Not forgetting wildlife, they too perish in the flames
Insurance firms kept busy with thousands of claims.
Our vast oceans too have become a dumping ground
With oil slicks and plastics, just some of the things found.
We burn fossil fuels that release carbon to keep us warm
Now we must find an alternative that wont cause us harm.
Pesticides sprayed on crops with no thought for the bees
Forests cut down ruthlessly, soon there will be no trees.
Action is needed now, they know what's needed to be done
Because when it gets worse there will be nowhere to run.
In the distant future an apocalyptic waste land will be
And all because of mankinds greed and his own stupidity.
Every country must play its part, not just one or two
And every individual on earth that's me and you.
Dinosaurs roamed earth and disappeared mysteriously
And here we all are creating our own catastrophe.
And the many idiots out there who think it's a big joke
They won't find it so funny when they're choking on smoke.
Written 13th August 2021
What is love? What is love? ‘Tis a word often heard.
“Unconditional love” oftentimes is absurd
because there are many who seem so capricious.
Tossed around is the word when their love’s fictitious!
What is love? What is love? It’s a feeling and some
may feel it, while some others - to love they are numb.
Some say it and mean it; with actions they show it.
Those numb to it though cannot know it or grow it.
Love with passion or romance can fool us the most.
It’s more like a sickness that’s been misdiagnosed.
It’s all about pheromones or how someone looks.
It gets exaggerated in poetry books.
Love of country, of God; love of family too.
These all are quite common, but are they really true?
I think most sincerely that examples abound,
and those with Agape in this world I have found.
Love for friends and dear ones though imperfect it be
is both practiced and felt by good folks constantly.
One cannot deny the remarkable joy
of holding one’s own newly born daughter or boy.
What is love? What is love? Its proof lies with those
who bring light to our lives. In their actions love shows.
As God’s children, our potential we must believe.
Loving others as ourselves, great peace we’ll receive!
Feb. 7, 2021 for the Unseeking Seeker's What Is Love Poetry Contest
It was reported that she had died,
but I saw her
months after the obituary.
She came to me in a dream naturally,
the mind has to be as relaxed
as a three-toed-sloth
before it can report any intelligence to us.
I knew her, the way a distant relative
knows you from an old black and white photo.
Anastasia: a crazy name for an Irish woman,
but actually quite common
in the long buried book of Celtic Memories.
I was hanging-out under my eyelids,
the way a winter sun hangs under a winter tree,
or a sloth hangs from a moist lichen reverie
maybe.
When Anastasia - her 80 year old hair
flying on countless dove-gray moonbeams
came to me,
a pitter-pattering of soft rain
falling onto my big, round, brown,
dreaming eyes.
“I am not dead, and you are not dead.”
She said.
I should have been afraid
but fear takes much more energy
than I had at that moment.
I heard myself answer:
“Then you are alive”?
The soft rain continued to speak:
“Did I say that”?
That’s all I remember.
Later, just for we big thinkers,
I commenced to rummage
through the long buried book
of Celtic Memories.
It was then that, ever so slowly,
I remembered.
There once was an Arkansas beagle
Though quite common, registered legal
But when it would rain
The throne he would reign
As if thinking himself so regal
Feb 18 2016 an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Why does our nose smell and our feet run?
Methinks the answer could be kinky
If Mother Nature chose the other way round
It sure would be messy and stinky
Here's something you should never ever do
Don't make fun of a paleontologist
Bet you're wondering why, you bright people
Coz surely you'll get Jurasskicked
What did the banana say to the doctor?
“I'm not peeling well today”
Did you hear about the Italian chef that died?
Apparently he pasta way!
Two drunks in a bar, one says to the other
“Isn't that Hortense over there?”
The other says she looks pretty calm to me
Saw her knickers, try not to stare
When a midget fortune teller escapes from jail
It's called a small medium at large
Was laughing so hard, nearly soiled my knickers
That surely gave me a good charge
The difference between pea soup and roast beef
Obviously you can't pee soup
But roasting beef is really quite common
Now hang in there until the next group
© Jack Ellison 2015
TAUTOLOGY is useless repetition.
To explain what they are, here's a few.
“Free” gift, “follow” after, “past” history, are some,
“join” together, “new” creation, another two!
These samples and more are quite common.
Even though they’re grammatically wrong!
The first word says the same as the second,
therefore, it doesn’t belong!
Grammar is a difficult concept!
There are so many rules you must learn!
TAUTOLOGY is one of the problems,
but there seems to be little concern!
In plain day-to-day conversation,
TAUTOLOGIC expressions abound!
I don’t see a sign of it changing,
a problem, I can’t “swallow” down.
So let’s “unite” together and “rise” up and correct this “wrong” mistake!
CIPA or Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis
is a genetic disorder very rarely found among us.
They afflicted with this disorder have a damaged gene
and as a result, sufferers never experience the sensation of pain.
Many may assume that this would be a good thing
but they who are afflicted encounter much suffering.
Death from hypothermia among CIPA patients is quite common
because they never know when their body temperature is low or rising.
Some CIPA patients have had to remove all of their teeth
to prevent them from chewing on their lips whenever they eat.
There isn't any cure or treatment presently
for the few afflicted with this rare genetic disease.
I guess with so few afflicted, it's not a medical priority,
but maybe this disorder can be used positively.
Many bed ridden terminal patients suffer needlessly
with agonizing pain until they're deceased.
In my opinion, they ought to have the right to be
euthanized and put out of their misery,
but that isn't ethical among the medical community.
This is where I believe CIPA would come in very handy.
If research can figure out how to damage this otherwise healthy gene
responsible for allowing us to feel the sensation of pain,
perhaps it could be injected as a serum possibly
and relieve the chronic pain from dying patients permanently.
The patient would have a leisurely, peaceful exit completely pain free
and ethics wouldn't be violated within the medical community.
All terminal patients in chronic pain could all die humanely...
...but then I'm not a professional. This is just my theory.
Said his lover to the horny toad:
"Buster, you can hit the road!
A 'horny' Romeo you ain't,
And here's the basis of my complaint!
I don't know why they call you 'horny'!
'Tis a gross misnomer and is so very corny!
When it comes to romance you are dead!
You're about as sensual as a loaf of moldy bread!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
For those not acquainted with horny toads. They are a species that sport horns on
their heads, therefore, called horned or horny toads and are quite common here in
Colorado. I have no personal knowledge of a "horny" toad's sexual activities but
apparently the little lady toadette in this poem is upset about it!
Morning sun slanting
Sparkling on secret river
Through new-unfurled leaves
Kingfisher diving
Nature’s own precious jewel
Scattering rainbows
Bright blooms of summer
Exhale their sweetest perfume
In afternoon sun
Dragonfly hawking
Drawing maps of green gardens
In three dimensions
Cool air of evening
Painting sunset’s afterglow
In softer colours
Pipistrelles darting
Embroidering deep twilight
With velvet patches
Tiny miracles
Waiting to enrapture us
If we only look
# Pipistrelles are the smallest of European bats.
They are still quite common in Britain.
III.
Scott bought the farm and some dairy cows,
and set about building himself up.
He soon made a name for quality milk,
local wholesalers could not get enough!
One summer day he took to the plow,
preparing and old field to grow hay.
The plow hit something, twisting it hard,
just badly enough to ruin his day.
He grumbled loud, went back to look,
and saw there, to his great surprise,
a hole in the ground, empty and long.
A new cavern there before his eyes!
Now caves were quite common where he lived,
several were open to tourists for show.
The thought of building up just such a place
made the dollar signs in his head grow.
The next day he returned with lanterns and lines,
carefully descending into the dim.
When he touched bottom and lighted it up,
what he saw laying close by shocked him.
Two skeletons lay just five feet away,
it was a miracle he hadn’t crushed one.
Both looked human and one of the dead
lay with the moldering remains of a gun.
The other was huge, at least eight feet,
and the bones too thick, impossibly large.
The skull was giant, the teeth oversized,
Scott found the sight of it quite bizarre.
In the middle of the great ribs did lay
two balls, the kind from old muskets.
And near the spine was the rusty head
of an aged and battered hatchet.
Turning to the other, Scott Bairns saw
they were the bones of a normal man.
The ribs were broken, every one,
so were both of the man’s hands.
And on the stock of the old gun,
Scott found an old, tin name plate.
He bent down low to read it clearly,
‘Amos Bairns’ in the metal was scraped!
Scott flinched back, remembering tales
told in childhood long, long ago,
Campfire stories of bigfoots run wild,
to his mind they all started to flow.
And now when he stared at either of them,
both the large and the small skeletons,
he realized the truth behind all the myths,
he was staring down onto his kin!
Scott hurried out, and filled in the hole,
then gave the field over to brambles and berries.
He never plowed there, or spoke of it at all,
for some truths are better left buried...
It is quite common to kiss injuries on those wee.
At three, my son asked to have bath autonomy.
I tossed a washcloth, then stood where he could not see.
Soon, he called out words that amusingly shook me,
"Mom, it washed sore, come kiss ouchy on my pee-pee."
Shopping, strolling him down the grocery store aisle
where female hygiene products are sorted in piles,
my son, age four, earnestly said, "When I'm grown, I'll
buy all these things with flowers on them for my wife."
His words styled a smile in me that would last for life.
I used mild-applied wooden spoons for mood anchors.
This set me up for disgust from food cart flankers
when my son yelled, "Look Mom, a hole bag of spankers."
My child, four, eyed that, not the shelved Power Rangers?
I hoped no one would report child welfare dangers.
Once, when a minister summed up his sermon's span
asking "Who's the greatest force in the universe?",
my son, at five, stood up with some dramatic plan.
Lifting his toy hero as high as small ones can,
he enthusiastically declared, "Batman!"
Thoughts of vacation, developed my fav word pearl,
"How many times do I wake up before Disney World?"
Standing all alone, we watched
The winner of the gold,*
Who’d skated quite amazingly,
Her elegance extolled.
Her teammates sobbed and ranted
And the cameras caught it all
While the winner clutched a teddy bear
And listened to them bawl.
What should have been her moment
By her teammates was denied
And when asked her feelings, she described
“An emptiness inside.”
Disappointment in athletics
Is quite common to report,
But both doping and sore losing
Cast a shadow on the sport.
*In the women’s Olympic figure skating event
Momma was Nonoma, her daddy was Powhatan
Pocahontas married John Wolfe, a union not in fashion
Unheard of back then
Today quite common
Prejudice is defeated, um... well there's still a wee chasm
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My garden today, suffering. No rain for weeks, hosepipe ban expected anytime soon. Unfortunately, I only have one water butt and that's dangerous low. Using a watering can, time-consuming but its a question of needs must. I'd hate for my butterfly bushes to not bloom. Many species of butterfly are under threat of extinction in the United Kingdom, in my locale I have not recorded the wall brown for over twenty years, used to be quite common, even in my garden. This day, even though we are all experiencing a glorious summer, the butterflies are struggling to recover from the recent bad springtimes' and non-existent summers. The heavy rainfalls and colder than average temperatures being a big factor in their demise. Today, I have up to 1500 hours, (21st July 2018), only recorded one speckled wood, one holly blue, several cabbage whites, both large and small, a very poor day indeed, however, better than none at all, of course, I do mean butterflies! The latter being the only two that I can describe as abundant. No peacocks, green veined, brimstones since late spring
pretty butterflies
many in the UK... gone
fickle summertime weather
Click Me!
Go! Go to sleep!” Night said
“Where? Where?” I whispered back
Sleep - Where can this famed land be?
Where one must close their eyes in order to see!
And must I go there at nine o'clock?
How to get there? Will I walk?
Will my friends be there as well?
Or should I bid them all farewell?
And Night was silent for a while
Til she answered with a knowing smile
Sleep is the land where your dreams dwell
More than that I can't foretell.
But perhaps it’s the home of fairies
Perhaps it’s full of tales and stories
Miracles are quite common there
You could meet Hope, or else Despair
And then Night said beware;
Beware the place called Nightmare
The land of banshees, dwarves and dragons
The home of elves, griffins and kraken.
And shuddering I closed my eyes
For there the land of sleep lies
And Night continued its lullaby
Until the sun rose in the sky.