Best Scores Poems
It could be noticed in media networks
either on television or newspapers,
how some writers document issues
with scores of errors or buthered grammar.
A literature in a hurry, a scripted discourse,
it’s what many demonstrate clearly
both in written and oral communication;
a powerful medium with a sense of liberation.
A ubiquitous voice, everywhere in this land,
its tapestry gets stronger in its own groove;
like those commentators or byliners,
able to articulate their own opinions.
But certain things in different settings
how those people speak with humor
at times make blunders wafting across
the growing audience and readers.
They say a picture is worth 1,000 words,
that exemplifies a reality in action;
as an instruction from the Lord
this Hebrew word from Zechariah’s book -
Dabru emet : speak the truth.
What is the past tense of Quit?
a. Quitted
b. Quitten
c. Quitude
d. Quittined
e. None of the above
Which of the following is the correct meaning of Alacrity
a. Stubborn, unwilling
b. Alarming, Surprising
c. Mediocrity
d. Eagerness
e. None of the above
What word in the English language is always spelled incorrectly
a. Accommodate
b. Wednesday
c. Necessary
d. Fuchsia
e. None of the above
How would you rate this test
a. It was a great test
b. It was an enjoyable experience
c. It was a very easy test
d. This test deserves a 10
e. All of the above
2-1-2023
The Multiple Choice Poem Poetry Contest
Suzanne Delaney
SPORTS RESULTS - FINAL SCORES
BIBLE tale of a lone man but a real hero
Moses 1 - Pharaoh 0 (Egypt’s Nero)
HISTORY filled with tragedy and frown
Julius Caesar 0 - Brutus 1 (assisted touchdown )
SCIENCE without reason or rhyme
Galilieo 1 - Catholic Church 0 ( after extra time)
COLD WAR , forty years of much the same
USA - USSR ( Abandoned game)
At the school and working in the kitchen.
Feeding everyone in the community, keeping quiet without snitchin.
Stirring, pouring, and frying. Hard worker. Build your house together with your wife.
Nice guy. Never forgetting the church. Feeding all races during the depression.
Usher or deacon? Silent warrior. Keep preachin.
Marks have been lower
I will do better beyond
Graduate scores high
Russell Sivey
I will graduate Jan 8th 2012 and will enter my graduate program in February. I am excited for the next stage of my life. And my resolution will be to do well in graduate school and soon graduate from graduate school with a master’s degree! I do think I will do well so I believe I will keep my resolution!
Entrant into Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver’s “~New Years Resolution Haiku~” contest
I reached level forty-one no probs,
And won the game, but had sobs,
So that that just failing was fobs,
If I determined not to join the slobs.
So the next time I reached it, had bobs,
Because it felt wrong to veer from your hobs,
But I failed the level at the last post, robs,
Since I couldn’t merge victory with my everyday disability, lobs,
So the third game after that first success, probs,
I let myself win again so my brother had gobs.
Of all vocations calling each of us
perhaps it is this final ecopolitical stage
most arduous.
To reflect with full integrity,
both Left dominant hubris history
with Right-recessed not full disincarnation,
those unfulfilled dark promise valleys of aptic time
lost to Ego's yangish self-promoting memory,
past trauma vocations sequentially emerging therapeutic transubstantiations,
pregnantly nurtured with Left/ElderRight bicameral balance
not +1 not -0 yet,
to reconsider sinner's sins omitted,
winner's wins committed,
bringing slow-growth ballast to one's enculturation
of synergetic grace,
both those healthier blessings fully consumed
therapeutic regeneration,
yet also known only through past struggles stretching ego-compassion's for degeneration,
declarations of Self+Other incorporating cooperative interdependence,
laughter's miraculous love moments
best shared, yes,
but yet bittersweet nutrition alone,
remembering what lives best not forgotten.
This final vocation,
to merge our previous lives together
with those we hope to follow.
The Election result is a kill-joy
And has a man made a boy:
A result so blunt I’m trying ketamine;
That should my recovery determine
My BP should’ve been key issue
And its treatment a Toilet Tissue …
A woman has captured my capital
And what’s next if not Hospital?
The whole stuff taken to any doorstep
And claiming to have watched my every step …
My eyes have been fed humbling scores,
Another shutting of my political doors
An angering spread sheet on my lap
Underscoring my defeat by a gap.
And I swear animals what these portend,
Birds to laugh if I do them contend …
Right now A chairwoman Elect!
And they wouldn’t me select.
Already, I can see her sky-scraping head gear
And celebratory fanfare in high gear
Artificial eye-lashes one can glimpse from hundred meters
And music-powering generator with hundred litres …
And guess I’m emigrating to Dakar
Or to far-off fourth Africa
Or perhaps nearer Niamey …
No eye-lashes wearer will chair me.
Alive as half a century passed;
I put my life to the looking glass.
Saturday morning after hitting the links;
I paused for a moment and then I thinks;
If I traded these scores with my college tour,
I would have made A’s in each.
Walking the park, don't know the score.
Awaiting lunch, my eyes just roam...
A teen has tried five times or more
to reach her friend(s), but no one's home.
Calls are ignored for time has scored.
There's no one home as my eyes roam.
A stranger strolls with oft-seen pup.
The dog breaks loose, comes to my hand;
tempted by my lunch, he jumps up.
Girl eyes her watch, checks the bus stand.
She's been stood up. Lonesome pup
at my hand seems to understand?
As children frolic on the swings;
moms dressed in black pace the lawn.
My waitress eyes these same odd things
then she comments on what's going on,
“We're all on swings and time's on wings;
This is the dawn when life moves on.”
Reason A. Poteet, 2/14/2014
an inverted refrain
for Gail Doyle's Whispers of Light Contest
Aboveboard
from the perch
In Spades
1st. Warning
Final Bell
Clean-up
Pause to review
Dolly Carry
Dolly Carryover
time keepers light
The Patina Variant
danger of exposure
Macadam Position
Both Acoustic(grasp and follow-up)
lacking the ability to follow-up
chain of moves that
is sequentail to pinfall or pin attemp.
Cold reading
Hot collar
Naker
off grid
on top
truckers read
pro tech follow-up
trip and copy
high grip and carry
low grip and carry
lycra postion
Whitedress and Ledger
four bootes limited
tuxedo seam
Sketchy
on the mat time
in atmosheric time
defensive posturing
offensive follow-ups
abilty to gain
loss of points
retalation
sqash and finsh
submission interferance
the crowd in the audeince
Dear nurse
The towels in a Knoot
Tie your shoe
points were spots may allow
ranking movement(up and down)
Clean and authentic submission wrestling.
Matches that showcase wrestling abilty
that limits certain kicks and punches.
It's mentioning means a contest to showcase talents
to determine contention
or Name Champion.
A named champion maybe givn a trophy or belt that
symbolizes
Him as best.
It also allows him to be challenged.
Where the sanitioning body will
make a contract,
and will promote the bout , contest, match or Specticail
in theme or as a pure match with either singles
or team effords.
But the concept of the Talus, is to
create teams to showcase and champion the victors.
They battle on and show no shame
The other side must take the blame.
And each side thinks that it can win
Punishing others for past sin.
Increase the suffering more and more.
Kill and maim to settle the score.
Year upon year of attrition,
A desperate situation.
For more weapons each side must pay
Then economies in decay.
The other side must take the blame.
They battle on and show no shame .
Scores of years... post high school graduation...
Whether with/without
spectacles regarding myopia, yours truly
boasts twenty twenty highsight
able, eager and willing to site
emotional, mental, physical
and spiritual deficits
lamely attempting to
explain how one bright
eyed and bushy
tailed older fellow
oft times described
existential nihilist plight
unable to validate
lifetime psychological blight
purportedly manifesting while in utero
citing reiterating “fake”
trumpism statement might
eventually assume truth, I aver delight,
yet neither blaming those
who begot me quite
willingly, masterfully, consensually..., nor
said male offspring dejectedly write
ting total purposelessness, though
abysmal, dismal, normal... thoughts invite
themselves to take residence much
to mine evil doppelganger's delight
generate, foment and excite
once upon a time did
zealously and roundly kickstart
damnation, humiliation,
lamentation, positioning twilight
xing analogous brutal dog fight
to the death, courtesy
psychiatric intervention did alight
reprieve against near rigor mortis,
whereby mortality inexorably did not bite
the dust, yet left emaciated fright
this then starved boy day and night
scaring, mortifying, horrifying...
surviving kith and kin ready to write
untimely obituary whose
freed atheistic spirit,
would ascend stairway to heaven
forever celestial transcending
manumission to infinite height!
Frozen brick church frozen hard steeple.
Nowhere around are any people
Winter mix is all around
Twinkling snow is on the ground.
Frozen limbs, breaking quickly.
In the yard, rather thickly.
Old frost bite Charlie has been busy.
Icicle magic makes me dizzy.
Not a coat or hat or face.
Not a person any place.
Outside is freezing, so we are all in.
Winter once again has scored a win.
Golden leaves, scores written by the hand of unforgiving time,
Fall in the slow rhythm of years slipping away like sand in an hourglass.
We are violins tuned to the melancholic tone of the eternal autumn,
Playing the ephemeral melody of life on the fragile strings of existence.
The mirror of the lake reflects the leaden sky of memory,
Ripples of water intersect with the wrinkles of time on the face of aged nature.
Memories dance in swirling winds like ghosts of the past,
Like dried leaves from the bygone summers of our lost youth.
The scent of ripe apples and burning wood drifts in the air of nostalgia,
The last symphony of nature before the long sleep of life's winter.
Every note is more precious than the gold of our dreams of yore,
In the final concert of seasons that relentlessly succeed toward infinity.
Trees, people deeply rooted in the fertile soil of the past,
Some still green with hope, others bare of illusions, all whispering untold stories.
We are wanderers lost in the park of collective and personal memory,
Gathering yellowed leaves from the album of life that thins with each passing day.
Spring once deceived us with sweet dreams of eternal youth,
Summer intoxicated us with the bright mirage of a promised eternity.
But autumn, sincere in its golden and rusty melancholy,
Teaches us, with gentleness and firmness, the beautiful and cruel lesson of passing.
We are but fleeting notes on the cosmic staff of existence,
Meant to resonate for a moment and then fall silent in the great silence.
But in this fleeting and fragile melody of our limited existence,
We find the heartbreaking beauty of the moment that shines before it fades.
Each autumn is an invaluable gift in the crown of the dwindling years,
An elegant invitation to the last dance with life that still pulses within us.
We gather precious moments like golden fruits from an enchanted garden,
From the orchard of time that shrinks but grows sweeter and more intense.
We breathe deeply the cool, fresh air of autumn that embraces us,
Feeling how we become one with nature in its eternal cycle of birth and death.
We vow in the violet silence of dusk to live each autumn with intensity,
As if it were our last symphony in the grand orchestra of the universe.