Best Rename Poems
Rip down the statues
Rename the streets
Police the language
Label it hate speech
Burn down the cities
In peaceful protest
Justice is racist
Thus, civil unrest
No longer about
Seats on the bus
A bus itself
Is labeled unjust
Envy a sin
Yet the very basis
Of a pernicious movement
Mislabeled social justice
True justice is blind
Social justice sees
Skin tone blamed
For all disparity
Media propogandist
Mix up the facts
Left is right
Right is wrong
Gaslighting Americans
With their fake news
Giving demonic takes
Editing out truth
Hate your enemy
Get up in their face
Resist reality
Let ideology replace
Tragedy in the schools
Fools blame it on tools
Deceived bunch of souls
Who forget man reaps what he sows
How it all ends
Is known in advance
Simply have faith
Knowing it doesn’t happen by chance
Infinite Dot Universe: A Spoof
This rhyming poem was inspired by Arthur Vaso.
It's about a poetic form, and just so you know...
these lines are being written just as a silly spoof
because some of my poems can be called a goof!
There's a new form called, "Infinite Dot Universe"
No, there really is not. Writing this, I feel perverse
because you see, I'd never tout my own poetry.
That would expose a definite lack of my humility.
The gist is that a person's favorite poet should be
him or herself. A bit like the haughty, Vivien Leigh
who thought, "Everything should be all about me."
If things didn't go her way, she'd say, "Fiddle dee dee!"
I digress and must confess this notion of Infinite Dot.
Perhaps instead of dot, let's rename it what it's not.
I think a narcissist would consider it more of a dote
claiming a masterpiece with each poem he/she wrote.
I have favorite poets, and one among them is not ME!
I wouldn't choose those I'd think special in PS. No siree!
That would be like saying who is worthy and who is not,
like the flawed Universe poetry form called Infinite Dot.
I know the first verses are nonsensical to say the least,
but they serve as a sword to slay an insensitive beast.
It's all "Much Ado About Nothing," I would tell a troll
who thinks he's of some importance. Ha! I took a poll.
Many nights you’ve graced my sight
fair Orion, hunter and groom to the abyss,
and yet it would seem an eternity
before we would meet and kiss.
Bought you’d be, and brought to me
by the grace of He who waits.
So, when I die my heart can rise
upon your valor’s brace.
He’d rename Hatsya’s famed
so my soul could light the way.
Dearbhla true poetess of love
‘pon Orion’s sword held sway.
And up I’d rise at my demise
to crest the sky and space.
If I could go back in time;
I would rename the stars that shine.
Hercules and Perseus would be replaced;
Elijah and Moses would take their place.
The Ten Commandments would shine brightly in the sky;
Reminding us that the zodiac signs were but a lie.
God's promises would be seen above,
As a wonderful sign of his love.
When the time has passed and gone by;
Just remember God never lied.
Leading his horse in the heat of the day
Been gone a long time but he still knows the way
Just a few shacks when he went for the gold
He’d found a few nuggets but now he’s too old
So, home to the town that he’s heard has expanded
He’s also aware that the town’s been rebranded
He knows he’s too late to catch up with the guy
Who’d bid him farewell but now lives in the sky
He stops on the trail by the boundary sign
He don’t read-n-write but he knows the design
He knows that the words on the board aren’t the same
Must’ve been changed to display the new name
“Howdy, Old timer,” a passerby said
“The hotel’s just yonder for resting your head.”
The prospector said, with a big toothless grin,
“What’s the new name of this town that we’re in?”
“It’s now ‘Milton Creek’, as it says on the sign
It’s new name remembers a good friend of mine.”
The old fella, grinning and shaking his head
Said, “Milt said he’d live on long after he’s dead.
“I used to tell him he was being absurd
but he always was just as good as his word.
To be sure that fella deserved the ovation
But can we just rename the towns in this nation?”
The passerby said, “There are them that makes rules
And then there’s the ones that behave like their mules
But sooner or later things get a bit rich
And the mules all rear up and scratch at that itch
“Soup Creek fell prey to the powers that scheme
With lynchings and lashings an ongoing theme.
There’s cells in the jailhouse where innocents dwell
Soup Creek’s reputation had heard its death knell.
“You see ‘Soup’ emerged as a four letter word,
And good folk would tremble when e’er ‘Soup’ was heard.
So we ditched the mouldy old cheese for best stilton
And renamed our town to remember our Milton.”
The prospector slapped on the passerby’s arm,
“You think I just ran from the old funny farm?
When you said ‘Stilton’ twas just for the rhyme.”
The passerby grinned, “Fella… got it first time.”
A Rhyme on a Free Verse Poet
Her poetry has brevity and also clarity.
I really like her free verse done that way.
Like miniature free verse too are her haiku.
Often so amazing are they!
From “Kisses” to “Wishes” to “One Serene Morning;”
From “New Year” to “Afternoon Fun,”
The poems of this poet from Canada flow. . .
May Line’s work here never be done!
A Limerick for a Humorist
A fun gal from the Isle of Man
writes “naughty” whenever she can.
For her limerick fame
I should like to rename
her small country the Isle of Jan!
Me
I
write in
many forms -
from classic to
newer invented
one like this: etheree.
Preferring rhythm and rhymes,
I don’t write free verse as often.
But I’ll try my hand at anything
at least once! I’d call my style eclectic.
Jan. 14, 2020 for Line Gauthier's You've Got Style contest
Well cross my eyes and call me Lucy
Met the sweetest lady of the group
She turns my crank, gets my motor a-racing
For poetry I don't give a poop
Should rename the site “Meet A Sweetie”
More appropriate don't ya think
This real cutie's on my mind the whole day
From her cup of nectar I drink
Age doesn't matter when it's a fantasy affair
Thirty years don't mean a thing
As long as our cravings are satisfied each day
The world continues to sing
Met a great big bunch of sweet ladies here
Not enough digits to count 'em
All I can say is my whole life's enriched
Each of these darlings is a gem
So this is my way of thanking youse guys
Where our creativity is nourished
Making all our lives a lot more worth living
Allowing friendships to flourish
Is it poetry or prose
Who really knows
Must it be in a shelf
To rename itself.
This is a conundrum which has appeared here, in various guises over the many years I have enjoyed the talented 'writes' of the talented scribes who contribute their thoughts/feelings/desires and offerings in many forms.
However, the famous Irish playwright and wit, Brendan Behan was invited many years ago to Oxford University, to participate in a debate on this topic.
His opponent spoke eloquently for almost two hours on the important distinctions and the quality of prose.
Behan then rose to his feet and promised to be brief . He recited an old Dublin rhyme .
" THERE WAS A YOUNG FELLA NAMED ROLLOCKS
WHO WORKED FOR FERRIER POLLOCKS
AS HE WALKED ON THE STRAND
WITH A GIRL, BY THE HAND
THE WATER CAME UP TO HIS .... ANKLES"
"That" declared Behan "is prose. But if the tide had been in , it would have been poetry".
Multicultural Britain
(An Unapologetic Statement)
Two “Festivals of Light” there are
Each and every year
The Jewish have their Hanukah
And Hindus their Diwali cheer
The end of Ramadan brings Eid il Fitr
The Muslim fasting's passed
The Welsh National Eisteddford
Culture, craft, songs not surpassed
There is the pagan Betain
That Celtic Festival of Fire
And the famous summer Solstice
Stonehenge, druids and sun inspire
Halloween crosses boundaries
Between Christian and Heathen
Leading on into November
Honouring death and ghosts of men
But amid all this Britain is
A bastion of Christianity
While accepting all religions
They too should be made to see
That in our tolerance still we stand
With our ceremonies and feasts in tact
Our Lent, Easter and Christmas
This is a simple statement of fact
Please don’t tread upon these rights
Which we’ve defended for years
Don’t rename our traditions
And cause confusion or trite fear
The Godless in society
Can rant and claim new ground
But faith is our foundation
And that foundation is very sound
So it IS a Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year too
The Scots can call is Hogmanay
Because they have and always do
It is a happy holiday
To all despite their creed
To each give them utmost respect
In thought and word and deed
But let us all remember
Respect is a two way street
Do not dictate our policies
Among people that you meet
This country was here before you came
And settled on these shores
This is the British way of life
That you’ve chosen, now, as yours
So let the religions flourish
And none to those who’ve none
And live in total harmony
Until our time is done
Politics! Politics!
What a deadly
game,making
her victim early
lame.Dear
memories i
recall there
was but once
an election,but
present tell us
of selection.
With eyes as a
night owl ,we
see men with
ill mind as
ancient saul, it
would have
been a
pleasure to pay
them the visit
of christ and
rename them
paul, they think
the game is
neat yet it
leads them to
early pit,the
whole thing
digs a trench
when they
think its a
fence.
They believe
they are
players yet all
they need is
prayers,they
are v.i.p at
night
clubs,when
they need to
prepare their
cross,they
think they
have alot of
fans but soon
they will be
taken away in
vans.
Your form of
revenue is
easy,while
workers at
your avenue
are busy, they
went rubbing
the poor to fill
their abyss
accounts,while
their purses
were opened
by INEC leaches.
Their wealthy
company are
now crumbling
before a fall,
and their once
healthy skin
are growing
wrinkled,at the
right time, the
bile of death
they
tasted,the
throbbing
sensation of a
last breath
they
experienced,and
their life cud
was cut, to 6
feet he
became
reduced.
Seems like this dude has got all youse guys going
Limericks runneth over and it's growing and growing
We'll rename the group
Call it Limerick Soup
I'm so thankful, my pride is literally overflowing
© Jack Ellison 2015
Fi is my name
Short for a title I can't rename
Fi is not a note
Two letters shorter than a mote
A fiddler from Finland
First son of a worker in hinterland
I travel near and far
With or without money in my jar
I am not broke
Just a funny bloke
I once sailed like a sailor bee
Zipping on a summer sea
I landed with my feet
One bended and one splinted with slit
I walked a million steps
From the shore spoke and loved a thousand veps
I trekked a flat icy nest
And climbed the trees of ivory crest
One day I found a coconut tree
A sacred palm from Thee
One name given to me
A connection of wireless canopy
Fi you can call me
Can't tell more about me
Read my name in reverse
Many things I say in verse
Ask me what my dream is?
Simple life I wish and kiss
I'll never drive you like a nut
Just stay true without a but
I'll keep you warm and safe
Stripping you out of troubles that chafe.
I am walking again...
This time on waters that drain
Temperature's so high that ire
Dipping on a basin of fire
Soaking up to knee-level
Skimping, not revel
Then I dropped in a hole
Bigger than a man hole
I was flushed in a long tunnel
Sliding through a funnel
At the end of the hole I cram
I dropped myself in a dam
I was like a rolling stone
Tumbling and landing on a cone...
The story continues
An epic of giggling ensues
Next time I'll write a story about swan
When you acknowledge my greeting, not ban
Fi is my name with continuity
Fi of fidelity and infinity
See you next time
Be merry and smile all the time!
You say Trim Shady come out and play
but Shady aint around no not today
that alter ego went away away to stay
I'm crazy maybe taking on a lady
but here now so hip hip lets slay.
Now Brenda remember
you're just a tender member of the opposite gender
a ghetto gangsta pretender
that I can slam and mash and rename Blenda
and then drink to remain Trim and slender
you'd think I'd stop the slander but
you created a demand for banter
and I'm a year round Santa
present with presents that when I present
generate laughter like America
flying your Tard Spangled Banner with your hand on your heart
your anthem is British and your flag looks like childrens art.
And though we're a pond apart
you will only ever be as lethal as a leaf in free fall
leaving a tree that is leaning deceased and peaceful.
There's a horrendous fungal flap with a flammable feaces in all your pieces
it never ceases while my skill only increases
you smell like cheeses off one of Jesus's pizzas
a pizza that's old, Jesus does that have to be told
you asked and I came and beat ya burned and lol'd at ya,
you wanted to play, well hip hip hooray, I played today!
Thana
“Do not be afraid you don’t know what storm I’ve asked her to walk through”- God
She was in a bad state of mind
Not realizing she was affecting mine
My eyes pressed tightly together
While she reaches for anything she can find
Every beating remain as memories
That affected my life daily
I wish I can say I could look up to you
I wish you looked me in the eye and said I love you too
But I’m just a disappointment, so you beat me
You’ll tell me to close my mouth and watch me as bruises form on my body
All I asked was for attention but only received rejection
We remained so distant that there was really no connection
Feeling like a lost child with nobody to love
I had no Guidance
My fears hidden behind my silence
You weren’t a mother so I had to rename you
So I called you Thana which means death
And at one point I wished that upon you
Because of you, every night I have nightmares
But I was afraid to speak so everyone was unaware
But now I found my voice
I finally decided to make a choice
Not to follow your habits
But to follow my dreams and use my own talents
Its funny how everyone thinks you’re so sweet
But each night you remind me of how my dad left me
Thana, I will always remember what you taught me
To be better than you
And to fight for me
Trump's newly-appointed EPA Chief
Found himself buried in EPA grief
To prove he was no party-pooper
He likened Trump to a Giant Grouper
Swimming against an almighty current
Where even the sharks were no deterrent
"Forget the 'U' and immigrant no-hoper!
I'll rename that fish, "The Slippery Groper"!
Well, Congress agreed to just let it pass
That's God's honest truth, you bet your wrasse!