Best Spend All Poems
Upon those who yield to anger, I should take pity
because words they spit are like sandpaper, gritty.
A loathsome temper causes them to fume and fret,
sometimes churlish ones spew what they will regret.
Restraining venom is an idea some are unable to grok.
Fury is the key to a door they have no right to unlock,
for they seek revenge when it is not theirs to take.
Hissing like the demon who was disguised as a snake.
It's amazing to what lengths their bitterness will go.
Look into their eyes and you'll see their malice grow.
A hostile fire-breathing dragon is an ignorant beast
who will spend all its time eating outrage at a feast.
They wear the weight of vitriol like a boa of albatross
when it should be thrown away. In the sea given a toss.
A temper makes foolish ones lose all sense of reason.
They may even betray themselves in an act of treason.
Rancour can be an anchor that drowns them in the sea
if they cannot cut the chain that would set them free.
It's evil to prick as a sharp thorn in someone else's side.
Irascible people are those most nice folks cannot abide.
If they continue to blow on smoldering embers of a fire
they will be burned by the contentiousness of their ire.
They should douse all glowing cinders within their soul,
to loosen shackles of angst and keep anger under control.
What would I give for a book and a nook
I'd forfeit some cash from my pocketbook
Surrender my coat to a hanging wall hook
Then give it a look , as long as it took
I'd roll back the stone, crawl into a cave
Find Ol' Tom Sawyer, take some close shaves
Look for Boy Wonder, help free some slaves
Hunt for lost gold, discover old graves
Go room to room, look high and low
Ride on a broom, escape through a hole
Go with the wind, fly over rainbows
Ride chariots of fire where ever they go
Search lost horizons with great expectations
Go hunting for bison in Indian Nations
Swim with Poseidon and gather crustaceans
The suspense would heighten my imagination
A book and a nook, a perfect day
Rain or shine, take me away
To read every line on every page
Spend all my time, that's what I'd pay
an original poem by Daniel Turner
My daddy was a mountain climber
Cause life's a mountain all men must climb
From the foothills of adolescence
To the last days of our lives
My daddy always raised me
To do what I thought right
The lessons that my daddy taught
Have helped me throughout this life
He lived on mountain wisdom
And showed me in my youth much of the same
Said son don't spend all your days in the valley
Cause in the lowlands there's no gain
And boy don't take the path well worn
That's been cleared out all soft and smooth
Take the one with rocks and ledges
So you'll have something to hold on to
That's why today I'm a mountain climber
Cause life's a mountain all men must climb
From the foothills of adolescence
To the last days of our lives
My grandmother used to bake pies
in the kitchen where I lived as a boy.
She would spend all day mixing
and kneading,
singing her old lady songs to herself.
I would get to lick the bowl.
This was my prize.
Back when the world was psychedelic
and hippies wandered the streets.
My sister and I would play outside
almost every sunny day.
Magic kingdoms made of mud and bricks.
Toy soldier citizens of mock empires.
Barbie doll victims of terrible wars.
Bubblegum music from the top forty
traced the pattern of our lives.
Our country had a new flag and boys
in school still had short hair.
Little girls wore skirts and dresses and
pony tails were still the normal fashion.
Black and white television set turned to
the latest American sitcoms. We would
laugh at Granny and marvel at Endora.
Mr. Sullivan would present the latest rage,
the latest quartet or singer from England.
Back when the world was psychedelic
and hippies wandered the streets.
We wore peace buttons on our coats,
and drew "smiley's" on our books.
We talked about what we were going
to do to make a difference in the world.
We admired the Fab Four and worshipped
at the altar of glorious possibilities.
We knew it was going to be beautiful,
because that is what we were being told.
Every morning at school we would sing
"God Save the Queen" and "O Canada",
say The Lord's Prayer and
hear the announcements.
Teachers talked about the future
as if it was a land of possibilities.
We did not know the black and white visions
would be transformed into colour horrors.
We had no idea that the dreams of peace and love
were going to be forgotten. Who could predict
the grey soul of adulthood? Where have
all the beautiful people gone?
My grandmother used to bake pies
in the kitchen where I lived as a boy.
Back when the world was psychedelic
and hippies wandered the streets.
Her neighbors claim her as their fairy,
And gather around to protect
This little wood nymph of their forest
Who so needs their love and respect.
They don't know how she came to their woodland.
It seems she is one of a kind.
She must gaze at reflection in water
For one like her own self to find.
Lovely flowers bow in abeyance
All the wood creatures kneel down with awe.
The wind tries to clear the lake waters,
That she might see the picture they saw.
The magnificence of her surroundings
More than easily rivaled by
The beauty of her reflection
As it’s framed by the bright blue sky.
She has no access to glass mirrors,
This little nymph of the wood.
She longs to see her own features
Without ripples if only she could.
Goddess Hera is extremely jealous
Of her beauty, her goodness, her youth.
Though there is no reason for vengeance,
Goddess ire doesn’t listen to truth.
She puts a vile charm on the wood nymph
And steals away her sweet voice.
She can only speak now as an echo.
This dear child has no other choice.
The wood creatures gather around her.
They miss her melodious song.
They give her the new name of Echo,
Declaring what happened was wrong.
One day at the lake was Narcissus.
She was charmed but could not tell him so.
When he asks if she deems him as handsome,
She repeats his own words as an echo.
He’s amazed at her impudent actions,
Intrigued into saying “I love you.”
Love releases her from the wicked one’s spell.
“Beloved Narcissus, I love you too.”
They spend all their hours now together,
Gazing at the pretty pictures they make,
More gorgeous than lilies reflected
In clear waters of their wedding lake.
By: Joyce Johnson
Behind the rough and gruff facade,
amongst the sternness and the pride.
Along with calloused hands and the scars
A little boy still resides.
in spite of responsibilities,
the hard days, daily grind.
There within a man full grown,
that little boy still hides.
In the crooked grin, stuck out chin,
mischievous twinkle of the eyes.
Crazy antics, chances taken,
a little boy joy rides.
Eat one more cookie before dinner,
spend all weekend, playing outside.
Put off mowing the lawn one more day,
that little boy decides.
Work extra hours to pay the bills,
don't let that "Honey do" list slide.
Do anything to see me smile,
His little boy is justified.
For the contest; Anything
Sponsored by Matt Caliri
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
One grows fond of all the involvement one has with society
To what end do we extend those words of forgiveness said so easily
You spend all those days and weekends
With those they say they are your friends
Those that say they will watch your back to the end
Then that day comes, and they pretend
They don’t know you; … those friends
Are not no more, they offend
They will hurt you and stir your anger
They say absence makes the heart grow founder
Is not always the answer
People inspire you, or they drain you and make you bitter
Reality is… we were friends for never
I can’t take this no more, so I’ll kiss them good-bye forever
They were not worth my time and worry so I’ll arrange to stay away
Stay away
Stay away
Forever
I don’t need you as friends if you can’t take me as I am and
Have my back at the end
11/6/2015
I never thought I'd be the type to say,
suppose at some point love gets to us all.
Hearts like your own can't be given away,
they have to be earned on top of the thrall.
Your embrace had such a powerful grip,
forever at peace when shielded by it.
Said you were leaving my heart hit a skip,
Left alone in an emotional pit.
I struggled with reason - what did I do
to lose the love of my life? Welcome, death
say how do? Of life I am all that is true.
My soul has passed on; I saved you my breath.
I hang my head now accepting defeat,
Deep in my heart she triggers it to beat.
Deep in my heart she triggers it to beat,
remembering love with all its embrace.
I'd give her my all and bow at her feet,
God only knows how I miss her dear face.
She is my definition of heaven,
and her love defined: the key to its gate.
Given her hand my glee it would deafen.
No fear in my heart at one with my fate.
I spend all day dreaming of her beauty,
most vivid images do not come by night.
Win her back that is my only duty,
so i wait for her with a lovers might.
So, all of these feelings I did convey,
I never thought I'd be the type to say.
I look in the mirror that sees the rear view
Someone is there that looks a lot like you
A pair of sharp eyes of a person I knew
A phantom that can't come further than glass
Caught in between, stuck at an impass
Made up of memories swirling en masse
I find myself alone again when I turn
But behind my reflection a searing gaze burns
I still check each time never willing to learn
I spend all my nights waiting for you to arrive
For this uncanny copy of you to revive
I do nothing these days but drive and drive
Mirror image when gone, where do you go
I wish you were still someone that I know
Looking over my shoulder, still as my shadow
after To My Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell
Had we but World enough and Time
Your mating call, sir, were no crime.
If lifetimes were more than a few
I’d spend an Age for each of you.
First with a Parisian lover
For a century I’d hover.
Then hot Latino macho boy
Will fill a few decades with joy.
Then I meander solo East
On diverse cultures I would feast.
When great adventures I’m done with
I’d meditate on what Life is.
For, Mister, I deserve such state
Not would I love at lower rate.
Then comes the quest for the best part -
To whom I shall invest my heart.
But, sir, you’re right, there is no time
To waste on matters less sublime.
I’d rather spend all years I have
On vast eternity of Love.
Your mortal fears I’d gladly spurn,
The grave would be my last concern.
About my pores with instant Fires?!
They’ll last a lifetime to transpire.
Into my coyness do not delve
Handle your ardour, sir, yourself!
She’s stuffed and she’s mounted;
She’s up on a board.
This week, she’s discounted;
We’ll throw in a cord.
Her joints all work;
She flexes and bends.
Pretend that she’s surfing;
The fun never ends!
She’s Wi-Fi-enabled
And password-protected.
Her system updates
Are auto-detected.
And upgrade to Pro
For 995;
She never talked more
When she was alive.
So don’t waste
your dough
On a mausoleum.
You spend all
That cash
And nobody sees ‘em.
Don’t sit there, man, move it!
Get up off your can
Our agents are waiting
Get your Instagran.
I spend my life waiting
Waiting for what comes next
Waiting for the other shoe to drop
Waiting to be disappointed again
Or to have my heart broken
Always waiting,
Anticipating
Preparing myself for the next tragedy
Or heartache
And I'm not really living
I'm just surviving
I mean, what kind of life can you have
When you spend all your time building walls
Preparing for the next battle
Waiting for the next storm
Just going through the motions of life
But here I sit,
Waiting
A world without you would mean no more smiles.
Only a dull resemblance of who I used to be.
A world without you would be no more songs.
For music would shatter my heart into pieces.
A world without you would have no agenda.
So I would have to spend all day and night picking those pieces up just to break it--again.
A world without you would be aimless.
So the body that holds me together would slowly and painfully disintegrate
For I am alive, but dead, simultaneously.
A world without you be beautyless.
Sunsets would be grim and sunrises would be dim
All goodness would be reversed for I would be ready for my hearse.
In a world without you.
On one of the myriad bays
along the Maine coast. Keep the holocaust
at bay I said to Dave because
you’ll spend all day gathering
2,000 calories and still be miserable hungry.
An undiminished population of humans is risible.
Black spruce and balsam fir,
you can eat the inner bark
in a starvation emergency.
There’s plenty of Cornus—bunchberry—
each orange pith around the stone
worth maybe a quarter calorie.
Lots of sarsparilla but the fruits
not out yet and to date I have not
savored one. Let’s see—dandelion
of course and huckleberry but
the most important source of sustenance
would be seaweed.
Learn your mushrooms! for the protein.
Accept the situation
come the apocalypse.
I struggle against my insignificance
but it would be better to struggle
against my ignorance.
Less effortlessness, more fishermanliness.
That’s the lesson of this Maine vacation
there’s a lot you can eat when in need—
the hips of roses and the pips of grasses.
And an endless supply of seaweed—
bladderwrack, dulse, kelp and thin green lettuce.
In the world of today girls feel the need to sexualize themselves.
Social validation is more important to them than personal values, family, and getting good grades.
Makeup and skincare can be found in their online shopping carts—
replacing Christmas wish lists
along with clothes that are two sizes too big or two sizes too small.
They get so anxious when they can’t find their makeup
that they hyperfixate on their hair and clothes and pray that their face wont receive as much attention.
Their crooked teeth and hairy legs start to feel like defects that are yet to be fixed.
They let their old interests sit in boxes and collect dust in the attic because they’ve been peer-pressured into believing that they’re childish and uncool—
just like they were convinced that food was bad
and teaming up with their own bodies to fatten them
and make them too big to fit in their own minds.
In the world of today, some cant afford to buy food.
And those who can often wish they didn't need it,
because they can also afford screens,
and they can afford to spend all the time they’re not working
getting addicted to the digital drugs we’ve convinced ourselves are not the problem.
Because nothing is ever a problem—
not to those with cool vacation pictures and straight A’s.
Nothing is ever a problem
for those whose perfect teeth and smile serve to display their picture-perfect lives.
In the world of today, life starts being difficult at age fourteen.