Best Royalties Poems
>Playing games with tennis balls?
Men, playing games with tennis balls!
Earn far too much dough.
In the game of tennis you know.
Some male players are now acting tough.
Saying they aren’t paid enough.
For playing games with balls not too rough.
Now they say they want more pay.
Than women, who with their balls do play.
Dragon, that last line sounds not right.
Might be read wrong, on first sight.
Guess someone will soon complain tonight.
We’ll blame it on AI, that’s right.
I’m glad they’ve all got the same dough.
When winning Wimbledon you know.
I still feel sorry for all them balls.
When served so fast into the air.
That’s the thing, I don’t think’s fair.
Why is it when men play ball games?
They insult women so.
Them that play tennis, with those tennis balls.
Some men really do you know.
If women should with those tennis balls play.
Men should never complain anyway.
For when women serve those balls so.
Men can volley them back you know.
Women may not be as strong as men.
In all sport games they play.
But neither do they throw tantrums.
If match points, don’t go their way.
I’m not a keen tennis viewer, that I must declare.
As I watch those poor tennis balls, whizzing through the air.
I had a job explaining that, to my friend Planet Nine.
He thought they were small planets, being hit for fore.
I said that was another sport, best we do ignore.
I wish all sports ball game prizes, were at least the same.
Played on a fair smooth plain
Not on a plane that flies so high.
You can’t play those ball games, in the sky.
So come on you men, do play fair.
Pay all prize money equally so there.
When women play, ball games with you.
They can be on equal pay too.
What else can I really say?
As I play with balls every day.
But as a poet, I don’t play swell.
Nor am I paid as blinking well.
Well done Dragon and you Spellchecker, sorry but we will have to divide the royalties with Planet Nine. Why? That simple he is bigger than us. Bye everybody. Stanley (The mad Author)<
The talentless, envious, plagiarist’s dream
Was to find someone’s ‘Works’ on a shelf or a beam
In a Pub, in a folder, alone and ignored
As the author lay slumped and as drunk as a lord
Stealthily taking those coveted sheets
He rushes off home via dimly lit streets
When his doors were all locked and the curtains drawn tight
He copied his windfall well into the night
First thing next day, not long after he’d phoned
He went to his agent with the stuff that he’d cloned
Dreaming of royalties and acclaim by his peers
But for him it was destined to end up in tears
There’s some gentlemen waiting for him in the hall
(His agent had asked two policemen to call)
“These poems aren’t yours, they’ve already been done
By that drunk in the pub, who is also my Son!”
So, if you aspire to a literary style
You should write your own poems or books but meanwhile
Twixt penning a story, blank verse or a rhyme
Keep your hands off my stuff or be Shamed for your Crime!
SHE-TIGER
She-Tiger patiently watches,
In shadows,
Dark concealing realm,
Green eyes pierce nights,
Blackening shroud.
Ever weary, seeking motions,
Movements,
Beware the bush itself seems,
To come alive,
Beneath moonlights twilight mists,
Heavy foot steps cautiously,
Tread.
Traveling along a carnalistic path,
Deaths servant stalks it's prey.
Revealing raw natures twisted fate,
In her flashing gaze, ageless,
Wisdom lies,
This huntress most majestic.
Sleek jungle mistress, fearlessly,
Striding.
Forgotten trails cutting,
Edges unyielding,
Patrolling vast wilderness.
Drink deeply clear waters purity,
No other creature dares,
Come near thee.
Forests chameleon, hidden,
Amongst bamboo thickets.
Camouflages golden blends,
Are parted,
By divisions striped bands.
Feeding legacies future brood.
Crowns glorious jewels,
Young cubs at play,
Learning life’s lessons to be,
Remembered someday.
Rough dull stones at first,
Finely polished y age,
One day they'll sparkle,
Under sunshine's rays.
Royalties queen, stands tall,
Upon prides rock,
Surveying an evergreen,
Kingdom.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Putting my kisses all around your neck,
Obligates you to do the same to me.
Electrify my soul and I will be
The one whose knees will quickly hit the deck.
Destroyer, I am now a nervous wreck,
Expected to pay the ultimate fee,
Selling my soul so I can set your free
To bounce, as if you had been a bad check.
Restitution will have to be paid back,
Or I may never pleasure you again.
You can take my payments off of your rack,
Extending the time to pay for a sin.
Royalties will always be in the sack,
So that I can always secure a win.
Versatility, versatility,
I have no problem with that,
But my versatility's
Not virtuosity,
Those two don't go tit-for-tat.
It's a true revelation
When my inspiration
Comes seemingly out of thin air,
But I don't analyze
I just write and revise,
I'm so happy my muse is still there.
I write both allegorically
And metaphorically,
My verses may well make you think.
Frequently whimsical,
But never flimsical,
I don't let them loose if they stink!
I love writing terse verse
And cherish long free verse,
Though I prefer verses that rhyme.
They're lyrical, comical,
Sensual, spiritual,
Whate'er be my mood at the time.
I write poems to please,
Not earn royalties,
Though I wouldn't say no to some pay,
And hope that my versatility
Will show literarily
That I have something worthwhile to say.
Author's note: I never want to put my muse in a box with a label.
Government
Royal family, regal, royalties,
England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales are part of GB, Europe
Army, Air force, and Naval support
Treasures, tutoring, training
Buildings and gardens of significance
Rivers, rail and roads
Islands surrounded by sea
Territorial forces, tax tea and traffic
Archaeology, history unveiled and preserved
Industry
National pride, National Insurance, National Health Service
ONE HEART, TWO HOMES; (was first written in December of 2011)
Belize of my birth; where my first love bloomed
You've showed me sweet freedom, to grace a second home.
But who'd forsake you? prodigals with intent to stay away?
I recalled years of help, silently floating in, from the US of A.
Where else would I dine with virgin air, suffusing flowered backyards?
I have no qualms, propagating positive economic rewards.
Two splendid homes; one of rivers, one of sun kissed sea
I think to myself, who runs where, to be warm and cozy?
Then again, who's all sufficient; people's lives intertwine
In spaces here and there, surely that's no crime.
One heart that loves... two homes... so close and unrestrained
There's diplomacy and grace, you're both well trained.
O Belize, I see bravado and zing; you're still happy and gay
Royalties still go and come, like tourist ships, from the US of A.
*
How rude and obnoxious, she was, to push me down,
step on me as if i was her rug,
i might be a nerd but that doesn't give her the right,
inside and out we're all the same, right?
Only geeks have been there and i'm sick and tired of it,
the way the cheerleaders stare, looking like witches with no moles no zits,
i am beautiful but i hide from that with glasses and grades,
but it doesn't matter, right? we're all the same?
Sitting in class, watching the teacher read,
i watch him struggle as he's trying to teach,
to a class full of students who don't even care,
that they're all ignorant and i can't bare
the thought of them leaving,
as mr and miss royalties,
i should be respected, i shouldn't be teased
so i grab my backpack and leave the room in a haste,
the bell finally rings but i don't look back anyways,
because BUMP just like that i fall down,
looking up i can see now,
my angel has come and he takes me away,
where devil children no longer play
I'm in heaven, i'm sured of it,
and no one is mocking me, we're all into this,
and our white wings spreadout and we soar,
and then my angel kisses me, and i'm a goddess, geek no more
It was snowing, and in the middle of a great big storm… as…
Another storm raged on, inside our dear, sweet little Dragon,
His penguins so care free, were now chasing after, you see…
The great Dragon Country Western Singer and Star, ‘Drago’!
Yep, they wanted autographs from that OTHER musical Guy!
Dressed up in country attire, as they two-stepped, down the hall.
So Dragon put on his cowboy boots and hat, and other fine stuff…
And caterwauled, in competition! Low and behold, surprising us all!
We fell, begged, & prayed for Dragon, to stop, what he was a doing.
He thought he was, grander than grand, for us to be bowing and cooing.
In truth, we were merely, passing out, from traumatic exhaustion!
As he stopped we tackled him, to the ground, which was the only option.
He was so happy; to have such devoted fans, swarm over him, instead!
He was rushed into a sound proof room, to record for YouTube, we said.
In mercy to all, we turned off the sound, so he unknowingly, lip-synced.
Yep, to Drago’s song! Low and behold! He got 50 million hits, I am told.
With so much acclaim, for the video! Royalties roared in, so we decided.
To rent a big bus, to take us, next summer, to see our new friend Drago!
So beware, there’s still time, to get out of town! This truly is, a warning.
I impart, and if he tries to sing again, have a soundproof room a waiting!
And between you two, in a music video, you and Drago will be set for life!
Don’t forget, the penguins, want to dance, in the video with their idols.
Isn’t it amazing, how stories can unfold, to quiet, the WORST of storms?
But Beware, two Dragons, bring bigger storms, than one alone can form!
Written 2-28-2015
Exorbitant-
extortionist,
self-orient-
red-royalties with,
oil based rents...
Ten-tentacle dresses,
head-level-leftover-ness.
"Instead of shedz we're getting into the mess,"
the fled are those who made precautions press,
loftily next.
Feathered grand masters of the air,
Winged lords of the sky,
Chieftain's of the heights divides,
Behold the great American Eagle.
Flying rafters grappling at the moon kingdom
Of illusions, shadow stalkers by the night's
Tidal eclipse, do these lunar hunters await
For the weak and meek, to emerge from
Purging's black holes beneath the earth.
Deadly free falling demons, aiming with
Stealth's pin point accuracy, flesh to the bone,
Raw elegance in motion, soaring these the Gods
Of winged flight.
Kings standing on the roof tops of the alpine
Mountains, royalties monarchs living by instinctual
Survival, notabilities symbol of strength and power,
Divine lords of the sky.
White powder clouds pierced by the sharpened
Edges of the cutters wing, as eyes glare into the
Pitch black of night, with perfections vision
At mid-nights darkest hour.
Honors peaks holds thy nests of liberty,
As prides guardians glide in the infinite tides
Of liberation, above a nation proud and strong.
Although the shifting currents of strife may
Thrust at them, storms hellish winds of war
Strike at them, they remain united against the
Common cause, rising in a spiritual union,
These the soaring lords of the sky.
Hush in silence for just one moments lingering
Breath, watch beauty's clippers cut the sky
In half, freedom fighters living amongst
The brilliance of heaven, in a world of natural
Peace, that only mankind can dream of, are they
Not completely magnificent.
Feathered grand masters of the air,
Winged lords of the sky
Chieftain's of the heights divides,
Behold the great American Eagle.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
My Mama and my Papa. They're good and kind, pure and refined.
Sixty-three years together, their loves become genuine.
Like sweet expressions of art; Papa a poem and Mama a song.
With me, they share their wisdom. I listen and see their words take wing.
This is their story, spoken through his poetry and sung through her song:
Once on destiny’s field, a confident Poem chanced an eloquent Song.
By providence divine, the Jasmine intertwined with the Muscadine.
A Ruff-neck blue-collar, beholden to a bride of serene waters.
Two artists with a portrait in progress. Colored in Faith, in Trust, in Love.
One child comes. Another. Then two. Dressed in his rhyme, kept by her tune.
Four paved paths; scented with sweet Jasmine, bearing fruits of Muscadine’s.
Their children are raised and grand-baby’s grow. A harvest, good and kind.
Their past has become distant, but that love so genuine continues on.
It sails over waves of struggle. It conquers, even in the brutal storms.
Through the trials, the Song acquired her virtue and the Poem gained his grit.
Like royalties of time, Crowned with gray hair and cloaked in old skin.
To open-eared youth, they offer insight and share their understanding.
His wisdom speaks thru weathered words. Her sweet song waters thirsty ears.
Their portrait, is still being made. An aesthetic piece of art, valued thru time.
Sixty-three-year journey; their bodies display age, but their spirits are primed.
La peregrina, why do I pick you from all the jewels of the world ?
Not because you were a fifty -eight and a half carat pear-shaped drop pearl
hanging gayly on enchantress Elizabeth Taylor's chest,
or because you belonged to English royalties ,and held by Buonaparte' hands,
Nor because you were presented by king Philip of Spain to bloody Mary
as a token of his never-ending love .I pick you because indeed you wandered from afar.
You were the fortune of an African slave.,where He found you five hundred years ago
in the coast of the isle of Santa Margarita, Spain.
He bartered freedom in exchange. That makes you indeed a gem,
A treasure trove in an oyster-shell. Its you I'd love to own
Not for your natural nacre colour, nor the chatoyant luster or your size,
But for being the reward, to a man who worked fingers to bone
just to have his freedom back, and be the master of his life.
Freedom- May we always cherish it.
For Carolyn Devonshire's contest
(A Gem For Your Verse )
Oh Peridot, you are a glorious gemstone, one of a kind.
Born of fire from the molten rocks of mother Earth's womb,
conceived by the romantic explosion caused by Sun.
You are the love child of Sun and Earth that made you bloom.
Your unique complexion varies in shades from green to yellow
symbolizing Earth's fertility and Sun's verve in abundance.
You are the crystal of warmth, well-being and you carry
the power of mental and physical healing, the inner radiance.
You are not only the national gem of Egypt but also been valued
by ancient royalties for driving away all the dreary dark forces.
As amulets with your enigmatic charm you have quelled sorcery,
black magic, evil spirits, calamities, nightmares and madness.
You are the ultimate talisman one can quest, for enrichment
in all aspects of life. You're the mascot for lost souls in worriment.
Date : 10/24/2016
Note : For the contest (A gem for your verse) by Carolyn Devonshire.
*Placed Fourth*
The Pirates
Pirates were around in the 16th century, they flew the
Jolly Roger/Scull & Crossbones and would loot and pillage
Ships at sea, for their rich cargo and gold doubloons
Over the years they have moved to land in guises as
Highwaymen and bushrangers, outlaws that steal money
As well as gold and defy the law. In modern times the
Pirate has become an even bigger threat to the film and
Music industry by bootlegging copies on videotape and
Disks, robbing performers and actors of their rightful
Royalties. Now in the days of the Internet, the pirate or
Modern day version known as a scammer, creates
All sorts of evil ways to attain money on hoax activities
Dating sites and social networking even through networks
With items for sale. Yes hoaxes and scams make up about
Seventy percent of Internet activities, which goes
Unpoliced, with people losing large ammounts of money
To these unscroupulous people every day. Can they be
Stopped? The answer is a mystery, as the world is losing
It's innocence to unstoppable theives we call pirates.