Best Skimp Poems
Their lives begin, that special day
Your hardest job, is on the way.
Walking and pacing, all night long
Knowing that one day, they’ll be strong.
Watching them crawl, then walk and run
Treasure each moment, share their fun.
They grow so fast, enjoy each day
For sometime soon, they’ll move away.
Years of school, sometimes they will drag
We’re filled with pride, we parents brag.
Teaching our kids, always be kind
Lasting friendships, many will find.
Do as I say, not as I do
We all have said, our parents too.
The truth comes out, don’t cheat or lie
Don’t try and skimp, to just get by.
Take the right path, we try to guide
Sometimes they don’t, we let it slide.
Knowing they must, find their own way
Life is tough, on track they must stay.
Bumps in the road, many will hit
We as parents, just have to sit.
Learn from mistakes, it takes its’ toll
Their independence, that’s our goal.
The hardest part, is yet to come
When high school years, are said and done.
We’ve done our jobs, as best we could
We must let go, or so we should.
Give them their wings, and let them fly
As we sit back, and often cry.
Turning the page, is hard to do
Wondering if, they listened to you.
Reach for the stars, follow your dreams
It takes time, forever it seems.
Your heart will break, can’t let it show
It’s so difficult, letting go.
Finkelstein breezed through the Old Testament
Hebrew for him was no impediment
But no lobster, no shrimp?
On food he would not skimp! ,,,
Eats pork too ~ No stomach for sentiment
Ahmed thrilled to Muhammad and Allah
He thought he’d be a great Muslim fellow
What’s this? – Pray five times a day
How well is that gonna pay
Ahmed’s new hero ~ L. Dicaprio
Ryan Kelly, the perfect altar boy
Brought the parish priest and his parents joy
Hold on – the priest’s celibate?
First his jaw dropped, then it shut
Ryan ran to the port, yelled ‘Ship Ahoy!’
Lauren Hill slow songs thrill,
they pop like a fast moving pill,
I am flopped on top of a junk food bill,
and running with a skunk who tells me to take in my fill-
like leading um' on into my dream,
I create a festering lean,
I rank every thought in order of how I like it,
and prep for a long time that's gonna break all the cycles.
Striding with my shrine,
as I shock a spine,
revitalize and prime-
as I preen and primp and chimp-
as I act like a pimp,
I black out and gimp,
skimp out on my dying moment because death is no shrimp!
We pray good times will come again,
As we sit and beg for rain,
We pray good times will soon draw nigh
As we dry the tears we cry,
And watch our livestock die.
I am tired of singing the same old song
This drought has lasted way too long
Ten years now it has been
Since decent rain we have seen
As storm clouds gather on the coasts
Flooding rivers, roads and signposts
We wait hoping, praying for a bit
Those coastal towns are always hit
We pray good times will come again,
As we sit and beg for rain,
We pray good times will soon draw nigh
As we dry the tears we cry,
And watch our livestock die.
We save and skimp and stand our ground
Praying for that magic sound
Of raindrops hitting thirsty earth,
Filling dams, creating rebirth
When the rains fall far away
Flooding waters speed our way
Drowning livestock, stealing fences
Removing soil, causing dam breaches
We pray good times will come again,
As we sit and beg for rain,
We pray good times will soon draw nigh
As we dry the tears we cry,
And watch our livestock die.
Life on the land is tough, they say
Yet we are tougher still, we pray
Not often do we take a stand
But now we need your helping hand
Livestock and men are dying here
Women weep for all they hold dear
The time has come we cannot wait
Depression is looming at our gate
We pray good times will come again,
As we sit and beg for rain,
We pray good times will soon draw nigh
As we dry the tears we cry,
And watch our men folk die.
if i could make a real black man
i'd bake him like a cake
i'd mix him up and pour him out
and this is what i'd take
i'd start off with some honesty
i'd mix in in real well
so i won't have to listen
to the lies that some men tell
some trust would be the next thing
that i'd sift into the mix
that way i'd know that he's for real
and won't fool me with his tricks
sensuality would be next on the list
i'd really mix it up
don't want to skimp on this one
i think i'll add another cup
then i'd get out my measuring spoons
1/2 a teaspoon should be enough
cause when i start to add the thug
i really don't want to add too much
good humor is a must for me
i'd add a cup or two
cause a real man knows that laughter
can always pull you through
the fear of God is something else
you know i'd have to add
cause only God can help him deal with me
so he'll stick around when times get bad
and when it comes to flavor
chocolate chip is my favorite kind
i think i'll add a bag or two
i know that he won't mind
he'll have to be a bald man
cause that's the kind i like
and yes he must have the ability
to talk to me all night
once i've mixed up all these things
and i'm sure that's all it takes
i'd pour him out and lick the bowl
and wait for my black man to bake
There is a gigantic magnet
somewhere far out in deepest space
that holds the planets in their place
sun and moon too, do rise and set.
All controlled by this magnet
that makes the moon govern the tides
whilst stars do whisper in asides
of this and that caught in its jet.
Yet who controls it, this magnet?
for that one must read the book
and not just skimp but really look
read every word and heaven get.
Our life of free will is governed
by vast things beyond our knowledge
all courses pre-set by a hedge
that path of god to us is wed.
He was an unpopular celebrity who enjoyed his liquid food
Acting weirdly normal when he was in a happy mood
He’d been on a heavy diet and was eating lots of jumbo shrimp
They were disgustingly delicious with hot chili and on his diet he won't skimp
His stomach was growing smaller and now looked awfully pretty
I hear his dieting was an open secret and not virtual reality
Once a star of film and stage he could stand out in a small crowd
His face was pretty ugly but his quiet presence was quite loud
This was his goodbye reception for he was now a failing star
Now his full time job in his retirement is propping up the bar!
08~20~16
Contest - Oxymoronic Obsession Sponsored by David Lindsay
Stanza 1 unpopular celebrity, liquid food, weirdly normal. happy mood
Stanza 2 heavy diet, jumbo shrimp. disgustingly delicious, hot chili
Stanza 3 growing smaller. open secret, virtual reality, awfully pretty
Stanza 4 small crowd, pretty ugly,
Stanza 5 goodbye reception, failing star, full time job in his retirement
Just an ol' Tom Cat
dirty orange in color,
Rummaging like a rat
through filth and squalor
Painfully moving with an obvious limp
and a single eye from which to glimpse.
Orange cat advanced with a hesitant skimp;
so sorrowful a cat I haven't seen since.
Confused and frightened
I could sense his pain.
Sorrowful and disheartened
He began to fain.
Without value or worth,
abandoned and alone,
he searched from birth
trying to find a home.
Such a dreadful place
to see suffering like that,
in the trash and waste
where I found orange cat.
He struggled with broken limb
and to not ease his strain
would have been a sin
for anyone who could help him.
Giving him worth and value
I cuddled him in my lap,
providing affection anew,
he loved me for that.
After a hard fought struggle
he died that night.
In the warmth of a cuddle
he ended his plight.
Each weight increase signals defeat
and never fails to leave you blue.
For, when you strive to stay petite
each pound is repulsive to you.
You stare in the mirror of truth
scrutinizing each ounce of fat.
And seeking the girl of your youth
you can’t believe you look like that.
Skipping breakfast, you skimp on lunch,
and might require medical care.
But, you think no one has a hunch,
though your eyes are filled with despair.
Like malnutrition’s telltale trace,
regurgitation cuts no slack.
And you display a furrowed face
taunt skin and a skeletal back.
Mixing denial with deceit,
you cannot find solace in sleep.
For when you're starving yet won't eat,
anorexia’s roots run deep.
(Quatrain)
2/6/2017
Everybody deserves a day off,
even corporate pimps
Let somebody else watch the Madison Avenue whores
advertise their seductive cable street wares
Conscript the company pimp wannabe intern simps
Then issue frequent frequency warnings
to the parents,
telling them to shield the children's eyes ...
But do not attempt,
do not attempt to dilute or disguise
the visual sale messages with clumsy adult lies
Though B of D executives will foreswear otherwise
It's on me ... so take that day off, corporate pimps
Just remember to text the memo
to all the legal department gumshoe limps
Should any dark net pirate intercept
this encrypted communique,
of which their security breaching eyes are not
authorized to read
The strict protocol after being cyber hacked,
is to disavow any disseminated classified company
market philosophy
Nevertheless, let the corporate pimps
enjoy their easily earned day off
in a consumer paid luxury hotel
Surrounded by pretty women dressed very skimp
My blimp is on the fritz again
The hovercraft just popped
I surely cannot take the car
That’s jacked up in the shop
The bus won’t come out to my house
There’s no train tracks nearby
But I must make it to your home
And then you will know why
I thought about our preowned drone
With three brand new rotors
Although after its first flight
It needs three new motors
The pogo stick’s got a bad boing
The scooter won’t stay up
Our chariot’s as useful as
A two wheeled cracked teacup
I’m not allowed an Army Jeep
All due to my low rank
Since camouflage is so improved
I’ve yet to find the tank
The last time that I rode a horse
I hollered giddy-up
But wedged it in an alleyway
And couldn’t back it up
Nobody wants to ride by mule
Or jump aboard the ox
It’s hard enough to find it shoes
Or buy it matching sox
The rocket has a busted tip
And they won’t make a shuttle
Since NASA landed its last ship
Directly in a puddle
I’ll try the trolley, tram, or T
The Metro, or subway
But come to think not one of those
Will lead to your driveway
I can’t take the snowmobile
Nor snowshoes without snow
But I’d consider my new skies
If there was a rope tow
Our plane still has a crooked wing
The golf cart needs a tire
My bike is broke, and the kid’s quad
Was melted in a fire
I think I parked the motorbike
Inside the motor home
But then my son lent both of them
To someone named Jerome
The ocean yacht’s still wrapped up tight
Next to the new kayak
But since we always get seasick
We’d like to bring them back
As you can see I’m in a bind
Almost out of my wits
Which all began when I learned that
My blimp was on the fritz
So if I make it to your house
Promise you will not skimp
On buying the right parts next time
You’re asked to fix my blimp
Surfing on West Coast Is Best
He was such a shrimp
Known by others as a wimp
On things liked to skimp.
He had saved so much
With reality lost touch
Started dating Dutch.
Nothing was his treat
Money never did deplete
Saving seemed so sweet.
This want to suggest
West is where surfing's the best
First with toe should test.
It probably will be colder than
hell which really should be hot
So go ahead and give it a shot
Before in bed you just may rot.
Jim Horn
Dad of a West Coast Surfer.
PS. Need a subject for surfing
and even about serfs if they
want to. There once were serfs
serving time for surfing in the
wrong place. Wow. Wrote a poem
about that.
Recipe For My Poetry:
! Cup of release from reality
2 tbsps of too much time on one’s hands
As many cups of McDonald’s coffee you wish
So easy! No pots and no pans…
A generous pinch of ego
A lot of long lost dreams
Some healthy bites of breakfast burrito
Not a lick of respect and self-esteem…
1/2 cup of feeling of failure
4 shot glasses of Tennessee Honey
Smidgeon of feeling of being put out to pasture
Mixed lightly with a minimum of money…
A dollop of overblown sentimentality
A handful of memories and loss
A pinch of penance and a spritz of banality
Add a bit of joy…at never having a boss…
Stir in with a grin, lots of rainbows and sunshine
Blend in memories of days warm and sunny
Don’t skimp a bit when adding red wine
And don’t forget… 6 shots of Tennessee Honey…
Blend these ingredients all into one
Then pour them all into an open mind
Then set it aside…til you think that it’s done
Might want to moisten it, with a bit more red wine…
Dust it a bit with some cinnamon and cynicism
Make sure it’s firm…not too dry or runny
If it doesn’t measure up to your very own criticism
Just moisten it up with another cup
…Of good ol’ Tennessee Honey…
Im Alive
Every now and then you get that buzz of awareness
That makes you feel alive
That makes you know that there still could be
That special person out there.
That butterfly’s in the stomach feeling
That hot and cold iv'e connected feeling
That touch that gives you Goosebumps feeling
How else can you describe a physical attraction so strong?
It makes you tingle from head to toe.
It’s like the beginning of a new season
It’s an awakening
It says
I’m on top of the world!
I’m alive!
Ecclesiastes 9:7-10
7-10 Seize life! Eat bread with gusto,
Drink wine with a robust heart.
Oh yes—God takes pleasure in your pleasure!
Dress festively every morning.
Don’t skimp on colors and scarves.
Relish life with the spouse you love
Each and every day of your precarious life.
Each day is God’s gift. It’s all you get in exchange
For the hard work of staying alive.
Make the most of each one!
Whatever turns up, grab it and do it. And heartily!
This is your last and only chance at it,
For there’s neither work to do nor thoughts to think
In the company of the dead, where you’re most certainly headed.
Heaven knows why you wish to hear anger and misdirected blame
tossed toward you on the ether by unknown souls, what a shame ..
You are misguided, mistaken, a mischievous little maudlin imp
to encourage such bad behavior, and to have us not skimp.
Hornet nest poker, naughty miss, you'd withhold a frog's first kiss
Listen young lady, no good comes of bad reminisces
so, curb control issues, chart your own course, hand on the rudder,
I see you there now, through my third eye, so, don't think to sputter.
Silly, silly, woman, a whirlwind you wanted and now you fret,
you just remember, never forget, you're a real girl poppet.
Stringless poppet with that cute little nose, so engrossed in prosey
write to me from alphabet soup, spin me a fairy tale rosy.
Divine are the curls 'pon your head and your sparkling green-blue eyes
and that heart of gold ..well..you're loved and it's no real surprise
for you sprinkle stardust on our lids at midnight, spinning sweet dreams.
Blessed was the day you were born to this earth, smiles on moonbeams.
Demur as a pink rose, soft as a kitten, we're smitten,
addicted, transfixed, are all by the proseys you've written.
Words, though sublime, can never truly tell of your glory,
only Shakespeare and Wordsworth could do right by your story.