Best Resorting Poems
Battle of the Sexes
A Collaboration Between: Pandita Sanchez and Eric L. Boddie
As beautiful and smart as you are,
you always seem to take it too far.
I know some of it is just;
but there is still so much that never needed to be discussed.
It could be that you too often misunderstand me,
overcomplicating and seeing life differently.
They say men are from Mars and women from Venus,
so things will never be simplified between us.
Tell me, what am I to think -
I mean, your mood changes within a blink;
so much emotion can sometimes get in the way,
you like pushing buttons - what's that shade of gray?
One minute you say that I’m too emotional;
then when I prove to be your equal, you call me irrational.
Is it just that I’m way too much woman for you?
And, perhaps, you really don’t have a clue?
There you go again thinking you are all that;
that's the reason we are always off track.
I love everything about you, but I tire of the stress;
and I can't calm you down unless I get you undressed.
See that's exactly what I'm talking about -
resorting to caveman tactics makes you believe you have clout;
but you're no longer a boy, so you should know better, Boo,
you're wearing me out with your commitment issue.
You see, I just can't ever win.
So don't stand there trying to pretend
like you are faultless in all of this;
but the blame always hits me - it has never missed.
While I admit that I’m not totally blameless,
I’ve been the one who‘s always willing to do more while you do less.
In fact, like Rodin’s ‘Thinker’ you just brood over our problems;
but I’m the mover and shaker who actually tries to solve them.
You know what? I am done with all this…
I mean, you know I am addicted to your sweet kiss
which, consequently, makes arguments hard to resist,
all because there is not a feature about you I want to miss.
So please just let me say -
the indifferences need to end, and let's start anew today.
Well we don’t need to be arguing all the time sinking into quicksand,
if like two adults, we address concerns before they get out of hand.
But in spite of what our differences may be,
I know we love each other to the nth degree;
and in the end, we know we’re worth it, and we’ll see,
man and woman, we can work it out together, Baby, you and me.
Categories:
resorting, anxiety, appreciation, desire, devotion,
Form:
Epic
Too Many Poppies
I don’t want a poppy
I don’t want a shield
I don’t want to visit
Rows in Flanders Fields
Another young person
Yes a young soldier fell
They laid down their life
What story does it tell
Off to another war
In a far off land
Beaches in Normandy
Blood spilled on the sand
I don’t want a poppy
I don’t want a shield
I don’t want to visit
Rows in Flanders Fields
My heart can’t take it
Fathers, sisters and sons
Why do we choose to sacrifice
Precious innocent ones
Are guns the answer
Where does it all lead
Poppies upon rows
As young soldiers bleed
I don’t want a Poppy
I don’t want a shield
Fighting old men’s battles
Just leads to Flanders Fields
Soldier’s Response
I’ll do my best to defend
this land that I love.
I’ll risk meeting the angels
in heaven above.
Raising our flag of glory
I will gladly do
Even if they take me down
I'll hold it brave and true.
Canada my country
I'll stand by her and fight.
I'll take on its enemies
with all my strength and might.
No matter where I’m sent
I'll proudly make my stand.
To protect my home
Its people and land.
Your picture I hold
Close to my heart
Gives me my strength
When we are apart
Loved ones left at home
Won’t hear our battle cry
Their prayers are the hope
On which our spirits fly
If we don’t make it
Back to our home
Our sacrifice is our gift
In a field marked by a stone
Response to Soldiers
To all of our Soldiers
Who cannot be heard
Your actions and sacrifice
Are the final word
We wear our poppies
Hold our collective breaths
Some questions only answered
By actions and death.
A co-written piece by: Richard Lamoureux and Mark Wayne Shifflet. It was a pleasure to write with Mark.
We wished to point out the absurdity of men resorting to war while still honouring the men and women who so gallantly put their lives on the line to preserve our freedom.
Categories:
resorting, emotions, war,
Form:
Quatrain
You have a right to speak your mind freely,
and express what’s important to you,
you have a duty to make your words sincere,
and do what you must to speak the truth.
Also to protect those who would speak out,
even if with them you do not agree,
because if you try to silence them
then you’re a hand-maiden of tyranny.
You have a right to worship what you will,
to believe the dictates of your conscience,
and not to let this be taken by folks
who claim that your morals only offend.
To never spread what you are thinking
by resorting to harsh methods of force,
and to resist those who would do it to you,
live-and-let-live, as a matter of course.
You have a right to assemble, protest,
to demand redress for the powerful,
to remember no right is optional,
but those in government do wish to full,
and that your protest must respect others,
since they also have a claim to this right,
and should the oppression continue on,
you may have a duty to go and fight.
You have a right to keep and bear weapons,
to defend your life with great lethality,
you have a duty to own a weapon,
to understand it’s use in entirety,
to never us it unless there is no choice,
since a weapon only has one purpose,
to know when to use it, and if that time comes
to understand what happens when you miss.
You have a right to possess property,
to control all the fruits of your labor,
and a duty to respect the hard work
shown by the property of your neighbor.
To not let the success others have earned
drive you to a covetous jealousy,
to understand that all civilization
is based on people using their property...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Categories:
resorting, america, freedom, how i
Form:
Rhyme
In opposition they criticize all that is wrong
and all that is good, according to their agenda.
They put clogs in wheels, aided by defiant unions
and often bringing the country to a standstill
with senseless strikes and organized protests.
Mud is thrown at government and individuals;
much of it sticks; the end justifies the means.
During the run-up to elections they use the media
to their advantage; the message drummed over
and over during house visits and heated mass rallies
rousing the rabble with heartfelt oratory.
They promise transparency and accountability;
fair sharing of wealth, help to the homeless and
to the needy; curbing favours to friends of friends
by resorting to the ideal concept of meritocracy;
lowering taxes and bills and introducing new social
benefits that would put all on an equal footing.
Most of all they harp on the eradication of corruption.
They hold roadmaps to solve all the country’s woes.
They promise heaven on earth; they promise Utopia.
Glittering manifesto is presented with much fanfare.
The gullible, switchers and uneducated are brainwashed.
As expected, election produces the desired results and
the party in opposition gets in power...on promises!
Promises that cannot be kept. The devil wants his due.
He grins, pointing to the small writing on the manifesto...
The majority had failed to notice it. It reads...SUCKERS.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: I Can’t Breathe
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillan
Placing: 1st
Categories:
resorting, political, power,
Form:
Free verse
Soon everything we know will rapidly be changed
Into an unfamiliar landscape and a worldwide shooting range
Guns pointing in every direction and at every town
No inspections will be allowed and best not show a frown
Orwellian decrees are issued, as government is a fail
False leaders arise; resorting to trickery and blackmail
Threat of war becoming constant with each passing day
Hot weather rapidly increasing evaporating countless lakes and bays
Electromagnetic pulse use likely; these weapons we do store
Thoughts no longer of deterrence, but of all out war
In a flash, atomic weapons destroy all that we have and stand for
Man still is searching for an out, but there is no escape door
Extreme earthquakes continue shaking the earth down to its core
Sadly, all of this must occur; to allow true peace to return once more
Categories:
resorting, earth, time, war, water,
Form:
Acrostic
this epistle per mine choice of heir apparent presidential throne
composed from one liberal minded non-conformist rolling stone
prompted awareness that one voice can affect which contestant will win
and occupy the white house after the votes get tallied from political spin
aware thy missive from an anonymous fellow and a self anointed scribe
will be carefully screened no matter opinion already cast with nada bribe
personal opinion of this sole american male of two score and nine years
that barack obama possesses that je ne sais quois diplomatic state craft
despite disparaging broadside starring paris hilton plus britney spears
the land of lincoln candidate exemplifies (to myself) a charismatic charm
in tandem with a relaxed persona and gait akin per a commoner on a farm
that nonchalant easy going affinity speaks nonverbal volumes to this chap
cringes when espying or hearing from opposing challenger whose lips flap
meaning john mccain whose hidden motives and agenda include his trap
to plant seeds of doubt per un-decided electorate causing lead to get a zap
unknown how trials and tribulations rival democratic senator from Illinois
will weather local nor global challenges and said solution he might employ
i opt for said captain to steer ship of state and exclaim to drop anchor ahoy
if via cosmic divine intercession the galloping newcomer in this horse race
ushering biracial as nominal winner televisions would show a beaming face
the political ramifications analogous to betting square outcome on this ace
i gently beg, decry, fulminate counter attack advertisements fast and quick
against those subliminal sly messages that at first blush appear airily slick
and please reach deep in that magic bag resorting to retaliatory artful trick
lest burning from the madding crowd extinguished like jack’s candle wick!
Categories:
resorting, dedication, faith, hope, inspirational,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Policy or personal
questions? In the poem Two White Wines
a child adopted from Cambodia
is a thing of beauty, and so she is
as she showed herself to be yesterday. Lovely. However
the poet implies market, i.e. economic, forces brought her to America
when, as her parents know, it was war,
the sad Vietnam War or the War with America
as I think the Vietnamese remember it.
Honor and bravery
equal courage. Reed Whittemore's poem about
a photo of Viet Cong prisoners, stoic, defiant
under an American officer's boot
expresses admiration for the enemy. Then and now
a dangerous sentiment. Your fellow citizens, denizens
of convenience stores, even your family,
may come to see you as the enemy. Once ostracized, the other,
not belonging to the loved ones, you're not long for
this world of dew.
**** and ****
Ken says, describes America's culture, not its poets
or jazz. What's worth fighting for?
Your land, your right to be stupid on your land.
Now there is one large land, one people
and many. The vote is a crude, monosyllabic grunt,
no way to express the subtle degrees of experience
our long lives represent. Thus,
it is good, when the family gathers, to talk,
each person speak
of what has been forgotten, forgiven and forgone.
Trading or taking
every family must be tithed or taxed.
Every man who finds his meaning in war
will be pained into wisdom and gentleness.
Who comes home
comes home to a future that bypassed the fighting, or did it?
The oil must be sold,
even Saddam or Osama cannot withhold it.
You can drink your quota of water
and still your heart can ache.
Empire or democracy
of nations? We can choose to be the reigning kings
between the last empire and the next
or we can implement a vision
of collective deliberation.
America the seeing-eye dog,
not America the junkyard dog.
Going question by question
toward predictable, transparent governance.
Example: How can a people become a nation
without resorting to violence or incurring violent reaction?
Categories:
resorting, america, courage, dog, future,
Form:
Free verse
LOVE MIGHT BE BLIND (a true story, apart from last two lines of 7th verse)
'Love might be blind, but it's not deaf,'
Is what my dear husband has said.
By claiming my snoring is so loud,
It's enough to wake up the dead.
He's made some outrageous statements,
That my snoring 's like a truck's roar,
Causes the windows to rattle ,
Thinks an earthquake's shaking the floor.
My snoring woke the neighbour's dog,
Is what I was told one morning.
I really think that's a bit far-fetched,
Though rubbing his eyes and yawning.
He's tried different types of ear plugs,
But never dulls the noise I make.
Though I haven't heard myself snore,
He swears it keeps him wide awake.
I've also tried kinds of inventions,
Bought from the chemist's shop.
There were sprays, plasters and masks,
None worked for my snoring to stop.
Love might be blind, but it's not deaf,
We married for better or worse,
Never dreaming it could be this bad,
Loud snoring can be such a curse.
Resorting to drastic measures,
Deciding on sedatives to take,
Sleeping deeply he now snores,
Which keeps me wide awake.
Love might be blind,
but marriage is an eye opener!
Copyright © Vivien Wade 2013
From book 'Chocolate and Chuckles'.
Categories:
resorting, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
In memoriam: Queen Elizabeth II died on 8 September 2022. May she Rest in Peace.
Gracious and a constant all my life,
not bending to public opinion o’ strife,
your sharp wit could cut like a Bowie knife.
With statesmen you did meet—had an excellent seat.
Paddington Bear, so sweet—your compassion, not beat.
You’re honoured as a national treasure,
never resorting to artful pressure:
Deus ex machine per Measure for Measure.
You danced with those freed—gifted a French Guard stead.
You have lived by a creed—example to us indeed.
Remembered as beloved mother and wife,
seventy years on the throne: quite a feat.
There’s no more need of any embrasure.
For your esteemed family, hearts now bleed.
Poetic form: Suzette sonnet.
The title of the poem refers to Paddington Bear saying ' Thank you Ma'am ... for everything...' when he 'took tea' with HRH in celebration of the Planinum Jubelee in June 2022.
___________________________________________________________
© SUZETTE SONNET—SUZNET for short (9 April 2021)
A 14-line sonnet of alternating triplets and couplets, concluding with a quatrain.
Rhyme scheme: aaa (b1–b2)(b3–b4) ccc (d1–d2)(d3–d4) abcd
The triplets are iambic pentameter [*/|*/|*/|*/|*/].
The rhyming couplets are iambic hexameter and include an internal rhyme, namely [*/|*/|*/—*/|*/|*/] (alexandrines).
Concluding with a quatrain in iambic pentameter that summarises the poem in a rhyme scheme set by the triplets and couplets.
The volta is at L9. OR the couplets may define pivots within the poem, ie a tilting or shifting in the mainline of thought. When the latter is employed, it needs to be uniform throughout the poem.
Categories:
resorting, death, funeral, grief, in
Form:
Sonnet
My scan was not “preventative;”
Instead it was “routine.”
Insurance will not pay it
If it’s somewhere in between.
But can someone please explain
How any X-ray, scan or test
Can be thought of as “routine?”
I think that this should be addressed.
Every dental check-up, mammogram
Or colonoscopy
Has a purpose – to prevent a problem
That might come to be.
So denying reimbursement
Seems a pure display of antics,
Swindling unsuspecting patients
By resorting to semantics.
Categories:
resorting, health, words,
Form:
Rhyme
A QUICKIE
At last resorting to trickery
faking orgasms so stickily
that the bed sheets adhered
to her bush, and his beard
pleased it was over so quickily.
John G. Lawless
6/18/2014
Categories:
resorting, lust,
Form:
Limerick
At the moment of our birth,
we begin a journey on earth,
knowing nothing of what awaits.
Being a one way uncharted road,
it’s where we’ll gather a disparate load
of indiscriminate likes, loves and hates.
Our road may be smooth or rough:
level and straight, or hilly and tough/
Hazardous or convoluted, the way
ahead is never predestined nor known.
Whilst the choice of road is ours alone,
it determines our each and every day.
With help from family and friends,
we become aware our future depends
on our accepting guidance and advice,
then, acting as our conscience dictates,
we can seize opportunities Life creates,
without resorting to avarice or vice.
Although the path we tread, be long or short,
it allows diversion, should we wish to abort
a wrong turn taken, when truth shows the way,
but should we choose to defy ethical morality,
then our chances of achieving immortality
are slim, if temptation induces us to stray!
It’s by applying experiences we acquire,
that we can face adversity, and aspire
to go forward, without looking back
or having sad regrets, whilst our reward,
judged on deeds - both good and untoward,
determines our end, with no going back!
With Life an unknown journey, for one and all,
it’s by personal decisions, we will rise or fall.
We can ascribe no blame, for errors we might make
nor is circumstance an excuse, for any misdirection.
Our span on earth, requires prudent circumspection
if we would leave a legacy, free from critical debate.
Rhymer. September 2nd, 2017
Categories:
resorting, life,
Form:
Narrative
upon waking from a splendid plunge
into the depths of deep dreamy restful sleep
anchors away set adrift this body electric,
which succombed instantaneously
(without counting sheep)
nor joining the make belive rank and file world
with the likes of little bo peep
an immediate notion arose
to latch onto and ignore
this most delightful, flight of fancy deed
(not dirty nor done dirt cheap),
but a natural function
one cannot overdose nor excede
the USDA quotidian requirement,
where cares and concerns
of an uncertain world freed
yet an asolute bare necessity for stayin' alive
plus richly textured unrivaled vista devoid of greed
additionally cost and gluten free, NON GMO,
zero caloric effortless need
(words of caution to take seriously to heart),
and note that if one doth not yield, but sure to read
the small print affixed like a label each mind
forcing to squeeze out every metaphorical
drop of open eyed juice
perhaps resorting to meth or speed
that silent slurred speech, physical lashing,
head dropping fatique
will invite Halloween aparitions, delusions,
grand hallucinations, et cetera
as if one smoked wacky weed
the forces of anatomical and physiological
heft will take charge ahoy
and blast at top notch nautical surge,
will wrest control against blistering,
festering against withering heights
delivering balms away at feeble attempts
to retain losing battle to remain alert oh boy
no matter how much effort summoned,
(even feigning wakefulness as a decoy)
the trappings of oblivion
i.e. sinking into profound dreamland,
whether an individual ascribes to be Jew or goy
which Maxwell House maxim
“the key to better relationships may be more sleep”
no mortal ought to take lightly,
but pay heed lest the grim reaper doth creep
stealthily and scythe lent lee steal
a haggard skiff of flesh and bone
whereat corporeal essence no more
will there be for the soul to keep.
Categories:
resorting, good night, introspection, journey,
Form:
Free verse
Resorting nature of Years and year's,
Moving miles and miles,
Life is just a bit of moments filled with sheer joy as I share it with You, my lovely Adam.
You won't believe, Its even been more better accompanying with You.
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As I Wana express, My love which will never fade for You!
Melancholic thistles cheering in its ain way with your manifesting reflection.
Rosing my heart , raising the plum of my cheeks,
Wana stay together in unison, Nestling the two empty sweet hearts.
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As in Every turn of life, My love will never fade for You!
Amongst the Wintergreen hazy bush,
In the Glass of grass, O'my ornamenting daisy joe,
You are the blushing flower of an hour, emboldening absolutely everyday in the morning sunrise!
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As You are filling the vibrant colours in the void space of my heart, My love will never fade for You!
Near the coral island, The sand castle will be always lighted forever,
With the whispering winds and the dancing souls,
Roaming around the dark evening blues,
Lying on the sea bed, Twilightedly glowing like the silver moon surrounding with the stars,
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As I'm blessed with a magnificence of heavenly glory,My love will never fade for You!
Removing the interstellar space,
By assembling the two innocent epitomes,
My love shall be immortal,
With the feast of love, signing the promising bond,
Gathering the meal of goodwill, showering on the sprouted buds by God,
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As You are uplifting me musically at different intersperse, My love will never fade for You!
Marquee is been always blinked by your name making a contract with the pitches of my heart lifetime.
Aisle of my heart's wheel, energetically spinned with your intact spokes,
Mounting the sparks of love,
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As my Life is a beautiful journey being together, My love will never fade for You!
Categories:
resorting, beautiful, blessing, crazy, cute
Form:
Epic
this own lee bro' thar of yars
dashed analogously graced
on par how a marathon runner raced
to Macbook Pro laptop computer post haste
soon as he goat back
to his domicile nestled and encased
in the bucolic, democratic,
and fantastic spit non defaced
woodland partially hydrogenated oils baste
surrounding Highland Manor Apartment our ace
in the hole, whence he i.e. mice elf
(Matty Mouse) with threads of gratitude laced
within a feeble attempt
to burble, cobble, fiddle, easy as gravy,
an insrutable letter placed
in the output queue
soon as all
the typo O graphical errors erased
and, though struggle to convey love
for such an endearing older sister,
which digitally squawking,
aye did not cut and paste
boot doth admit to allowing,
a saucy bit of small potatoes sayest
in ma trademark (truemark)
stuffing of fluffernutter (that taste)
G---R---R---E---E---A---A---T
(courtesy of flaky Tony the corny tiger),
which gimmerish aims to waste
juiced spare moments,
and tubby direct, earnest and frank
lemme communicate without resorting
to caginess,
but free roaming thoughts to thank
ye and Rich for welcoming a small group
of family and friends
to your Woodbury, New Jersey abode,
page number two:
somewhat near Redbank
to relish the salad days of times gone by,
when as kids,
we tricked each other with a harmless prank
such as hiding a fuzzy wuzzy Willie,
or scaring the other
with the molded Creepy People that doth rank
as laughably innocent, these topsy turvy times,
when faith no more
eroded cameraderie
among fellow Americans to tank
especially as the world wide web
iz going to fill in the BLANK
thus moments to share
a tasty repast did help me to crank
out this artichoked gibberish,
which when placed
atop pyramid of cranberries sank.
as didst this heart of darkness
within soul asylum
of papa and momma genes
to two beautiful young women
re: daughters, whose absence
felt as gloomy fiends
similar to the Ogre encountered,
when goose that laid golden egg stolen
by Jack of beanstalk
of story book fame as a cash cow means.
Categories:
resorting, age, blessing, food, humor,
Form:
Elegy