Best Spokesperson Poems
To speak for those, who no longer have a voice,
were I to get it wrong, would they really have a choice?
No.., they didn't choose me as spokesperson, why would they?
I am not clairvoyant.
But they haunt my dreams still...cause me to rise, plead me to look back.
They won't let me alone, point in fact.
“I am waiting patiently. Goodbye my darlings"
Bill didn't have enough water to write much more than this.
Born on Valentine's day, with his heart set on Chubby,
eight days to dwell on a love that almost was, now missed.
Mia was a sad-eyed beauty, there's no denying that.,
she never got free the shadow cast, Ernie's early demise.
Though a mother's love, given and reciprocated,
found a fondness binding, throughout her short life.
Marty made the day special for friends and family,
never thinking of himself, a miracle and twin borne.
Forsaken in life's wishes, called only for justice seen,
lived life fitting of a brother they'll always mourn.
Save up the coins for the ferryman while you still can,
the days will bring swift recounting.
Leave lasting memory for love's empty hand,
and debts of the heart ever surmounting.
Dear Jonathan you seem more refined than most
Were you appointed spokesperson to fill a post
I'm the Canadian equivalent
I'm really quite magnifient
When it comes to public speaking I can't help but boast
Well don't be shy you should blow your own trumpet
Need to show these guys we ain't just some puppets
Got savy galore
Taking over the floor
To the applause of many causing smiles by the bucket
Now don't get me wrong John, I'm straight as an arrow
It's my humble attempt to prove I'm really not shallow
My breath is strong
As I lead them in song
And they keep throwing me money by the barrel
So John, this is not one of those “Dear John” letters
Trust me, this little limerick is a whole lot better
To acknowledge your talents
Won't call you a savant
Though on Poetry Soup you're image is unfettered
Enough is enough, mustn't cause too much laughter
For fear you might think it's your body I'm after
On my mama's grave
It's only friendship I crave
Okay I admit writing this while a bit plastered
© Jack Ellison 2015
In the beginning
All I ever wanted to do is talk it over
But constantly getting the cold shoulder
Causes cold hopes
You made me feel like nothing inside
And egg with no yoke
You can't be mad forever
Eventually it'll all come spilling out
I just wanted to talk
But now we've embarked on 4 month drought
You'll forgive me and I'll be long gone
Don't have Motley message me
And don't go callin John
You'll be back
You'll be back
Me and John are calling that
I'll be filling up people's prescriptions
And you'll still be making Big Macs
What are you forgiving me for anyway
For getting to know you and taking the chance
While you spill your insecurities out about your eyes and tight pants
Are you forgiving me for making think outside the box and laugh
You telling me they was taking forever to remodel your bathroom
And you had to go over your sisters house and take a bath
Was i perfect...no
But that doesn't justify the petty lies
Do you know how many times I blamed myself
Do you know how many times i curled up and cried
I never said I ddnt care about you
But I realized that I have to move on and accept the end
I just wanna talk to carry on
At this point I don't wanna be your friend
I just wanna be cordial and have nothing to do with you
Searching for forgiveness
You act this is an episode of Blue Clues
And I'm tired of searching for the clues of the real you
I rather search for Steve and Magenta
It's just started off as a big misunderstanding
Now 4 months later we have a dilemma
I'm tired of guessing
And hurting
Since I can't talk to you
My tears have to be my spokesperson
Tears talk to
But you might not like what they have to say
Cause they'll be talking about you
Don't come back
Don't come back
My heart you broke that
And in the beginning all I wanted to do is chat
You kicked me outta your life
Left me looking dumb at the door mat
You would snarl at me when I was ringing the bell and knocking
So just walking away was kinda my only option
BevelynKaye said you need some coal in your stocking
Pieces of my broken heart I got stuck sweeping and moppin
From this situation I've cried, I've tried; heart died, matured, grew
When I'm gone I know for sure you'll miss me
Picking on me
Will I miss you...
But the real question is
Should I forgive you
hillary hillary hillary
who sobbed her way in cafés
all along the campaign trail
who now sits beside her prime opponent
as spokesperson-talking-head-puppet o’ the empire,
telling us all for the
489,675,788,899 th time
that the possibility of Iran
being blown off the face of this earth
is still “on the table”
because we americans
whose big dick beats all others across the world
need to enforce our
PEACEFUL INTENT
upon those who will not do what we say
because
we americans who beat our big dick all across the world
need to enforce our
PEACEFUL INTENT
upon those who will not give us what we want
(resources that lie within their borders)
because
we americans who beat our big dick all across the world
need to enforce our
PEACEFUL INTENT
upon those who will not adopt our own way of greed, exploitation & deprivation of our own citizens---
OH
THE
LESSONS
WE
TEACH
THE
WORLD.
Unshackle my verse: The People V. Poetry
The judge says,
“Will the defendant please rise”
Intently, I stare into his eyes,
was once the apple, but now despised.
“Poetry, you have been charged with multiple counts of loitering in minds,
Assault with a deadly weapon penning words that give sight to the blind,
Aiding and abetting phrases that freed dark memories which were confined,
Multiple counts of theft of feelings, stealing hearts with emotional lines,
Mass murder charges stemming back years from killing time,
Poetry, do you understand these charges and the nature of your crime?”
“I do your honor. By the way, I love how you rhymed.”
“Don’t get smart with me, poetry.
Now how do you plead?”
“Ha! You did it again,
anyway, I plead guilty as sin.”
“Very well, let us move on to the sentencing.”
“Before we begin sentencing
May I share a few sentences on my day of reckoning?”
“I'll allow it
I can't disavow it”
“Excuse my french but
screw your laws.
Your rules cause people to follow
I cause people to pause
And to think, about how many victims blame me for what happens?
I am only the rescue boat when they are drowning, not the captain
I am the ambulance when lives are a wreck
I’m not the suit and tie, i'm just the crew neck
Underneath it all, that's where I thrive
When voices fail, I won’t deprive
I am the spokesperson for the heart
Public relations for nature and art
You can convict me and lock me away
Throw the book at me, I’ll just eat its words like a buffet,
You can’t pray this gay away
For I am happy as child’s play
So yes I am guilty,
Guilty and proud
I am who I am,
a wordy muse well-endowed”
“Oh and one more thing, your honor
Before you rule and make me a goner
Could I request a cell in isolation, not that it matters
That’s just where I do my best work. It’s kind of a work hazard.”
Written April 11, 2017, for the unshackle my verse contest
One minute bought to make an impression,
One minute to stir emotions, swirls of anger, guilt, affliction,
One minute to pull the heartstrings to pack a punch to feel the sting -
puppy dog’s hopeless eyes,
matted fur, dismal cries,
broken spirits under rainy skies,
neglected animals getting thinner,
shivering bones exposed in cold of winter
In less than one minute, tears flow –
spokesperson speaks in somber tones,
snapshots of distressed animals are shown
as a somber song arouses sorrow.
One minute of time before ad fades to black,
one minute to make a massive impact.
Is one minute enough time to make a human connection,
to cause a spiritual reflection,
to create a mood for heartfelt invocation?
In less than a minute a bird can take flight, clouds can drift by concealing light.
In less than a minute we can feel pain or regret, we can believe a lie,
turn our backs, become desensitized.
I thought about one minute while I watched these scenes.
I thought about cruelty and suffering.
I thought the strong overpowering the weak.
I thought about the imprint of the words we speak.
I thought about how in less than a minute innocence can die,
and how it takes less than a minute to share a smile, soothe a child’s cry,
or wipe the tears from grief-stricken eyes.
Yes, a poet can breakdown in a moment of time
watching a commercial, a movie, or the sun setting in the sky.
In one minute, we can crumble or soar on high,
but what can we do with our time, what do we create, how can we shine?
We can evoke passion in a moment, we can create change in a moment,
we can live in the moment.
In this moment, I need to wipe my own tears and give to the cause.
This organization has spent their minute well.
Written 6/10/20 for Chantelle Anne Cooke's
Time Poetry Contest
Jali, jeli
African historian
You’re a storyteller;
Praise singer;griot
Griot, jali, jeli
You’re a storyteller;
Singing, telling your tales;
Words songs in harmony wails;
Poet or musician;
Oral repository tradition;
Seen often as leader;
Advisor to royal personages;
Kings and Queens
Jali, jeli
African historian
You’re a storyteller;
Praise singer;
Sometimes called a bard;
Lyrics and words taking charge;
Peoples of West Africa;
Captured into bondage;
People of the kingdom;
Chained placed in boats to be shipped to a new far land;
I am a Jali, jeli
African historian
You’re a storyteller;
Praise singer;
Griot, jali, jeli
Composer, Diplomat;
Historian, Interpreter, musician;
Peace maker, praise singer;
I am
Poet, spokesperson, Teacher, translator;
Witness, warrior
Griot, jali, jeli
I am, I am
Jali, jeli
African historian
You’re a storyteller;
Praise singer;
10/17/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
Calindae knows everything
She is the expert of all
I sit next to her during meetings
For there might be group work
And I know she will grab the poster board
And the markers and do it her way
Such a relief
Knowing I have to do nothing
As she loves being the spokesperson also
Others try to get next to her too,
Sometimes there are a line of us.
Luckily, I am aggressive and
Not afraid to bare the teeth I have left
This is the advantage of being in your sixties
In a group of twenties and thirties who are easily frightened
This last meeting was rather sweet.
She yelled "I KNOW THESE! I KNOW THESE!"
Grabbing the fill-in-the-blank form from all of us who did not care.
No one else reached or glanced but she did not notice.
She wrote large, with a flourish.
When it came time to present everyone acted reluctant.
So I yelled out "Calindae has the answers!"
She gave me a look of love and began reading
Loudly and proudly.
"Sorry," the presenter said," You got one right. The rest are wrong."
Calindae spent the rest of the time arguing with the presenter.
Which means we did not have to fill out the survey
Because we had run out of time.
I will be racing to get this seat every week!
Ollie Hynd MBE is a first class swimmer,
And has neuromuscular myopathy et all,
He broke his brother Sam’s WR skimmer,
Which was set in Beijing 2008, his gaul.
Ollie debuted in 2011 at the IPC Euros,
Where he won the 200m individual medley,
Setting a new European Record, a new pose,
And also taking a silver in the 400m spray.
He got gold in the 200m SM8 in London,
At the Paras in the individual medley again,
And silver again in the freestyle 400m photon,
And a bronze at the backstroke 100m men.
In 2015 at the IPCs, Glasgow, he did win,
Gold in the 200m individual medley mix,
And a bronze in the 100m backstroke to grin,
And another gold in the 400m freestyle pix.
In the Euros 2016 at the IPC championships,
Ollie won 5 gold: the 400m freestyle and relay,
The 200m individual medley, and with his hips,
The 100m backstroke: the boards he did array.
And he struck gold again, just as he does,
At Rio 2016, where he won the 400m freestyle:
Another gold for team GB, strong as its foes,
So that prowess at sports we do meatily tile.
He swims in the S8 category and in 2015,
He became the year’s Disabled Spokesperson,
At the Nottinghamshire Sports Awards preen.
He was born on 27 October 1995 quite a son.
Songstress
by Michael R. Burch
for Nadia Anjuman
Within its starkwhite ribcage, how the heart
must flutter wildly, O, and always sing
against the pressing darkness: all it knows
until at last it feels the numbing sting
of death. Then life's brief vision swiftly passes,
imposing night on one who clearly saw.
Death held your bright heart tightly, till its maw?
envenomed, fanged?could swallow, whole, your Awe.
And yet it was not death so much as you
who sealed your doom; you could not help but sing
and not be silenced. Here, behold your tomb's
white alabaster cage: pale, wretched thing!
But you'll not be imprisoned here, wise wren!
Your words soar free; rise, sing, fly, live again.
Nadia Anjuman Herawi (Nadja Anjoman) was a talented young Afghani poet who died at age 25 under highly suspicious circumstances. What were her crimes? To be a woman and dare to be a poet? To speak her unmanacled mind freely? To become an advocate and spokesperson for women like herself?women who loved literature so much they risked death by reading censored writers right beneath the snoutlike noses of the Taliban? Ireland may have hurt Yeats into writing poetry, but Ireland didn't kill him for having the talent and audacity to be published. And while it may not be possible to say Anjuman's position and stature as an acclaimed female Muslim poet directly brought about her death, the mere fact that such an eventuality seems plausible should give the world pause.
saw the cover of
a magazine while
waiting in the grocery
checkout line that
revealed to me, a
citizen of the cesspool,
that mr. tom cruise
HAS BEEN ALONE
FOR_______(insert
whatever amount of
time that said smut
writer thinks is enough
to get people to read
said trash), as if one man
in the world being alone
is grounds for a few
magazine covers
(think of the money spent),
not to mention
that to seriously believe
that the most famous
spokesperson for
scientology, would be
alone for even a few
seconds, if he did not want
it,
is simply ludicrous.
tommy cruise is
tommy cruise &
there are women & men
out there that will want
to **** the daylights out
of him until the day he
dies,
so to think that because
the head honchos in
the organization are
taking a little longer to
find him a proper
wife that will sign on
the dotted line to be
contractually wedded to
him,
that he would
EVER
EVER
EVER
be alone in the same
manner that a
non-tommy cruise
might,
is
****ing insane.
stop weeping for him
america.
(alternately titled random axe of violence)
I calculated an average
of ~10.16.... deaths per year
of mass school shootings since Columbine,
a morbid benchmark where,
iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit,
now students require armed guards to learn - veer
really within purportedly "safe places",
which statistics tracks a unilinear
trend, and justifiably causing
absolute zero reassurance
countering alarmist state of mind dust tear
ability to accept rationale
dismissing greater probability
prevails lightening will strike loved ones,
nonetheless share
ring understandable expressing
rightful salient concerns with school board
quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare
lee remain mum at every opportunity,
how second amendment does not square
with democratic e pluribus unum firmament,
lieutenant management,
quintessential reverent tenets
pointing trigger finger of accountability
at lax gun purchasing rare
lee does emotional uproar demanding
immediate controls, limitations, restrictions,
et cetera on firearms scare
the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association,
whence spokesperson doth prepare
convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear
ring lee outgun legitimate
parental concerns, now near
daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed
inducing similar reactions as
sports home team defeated, sans mere
slightly raised eyebrows while headline news
when another tragedy gets tacked
unto the 122 students killed since Columbine
took the lives of innocent lives 19 plus years ago
which ho hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare
lee induce ripple despite an increasing number
of spent bullets fallout inflicting
more than 208,000 vulnerable
impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
I knew you before you were even thought of,
By your parents on mother earth.
Your attributes, your qualities, yes even your shortcomings,
I knew all before your miraculous birth.
I then set the plan in motion,
A chemistry between two recipients.
It was not long afterwards,
That your illustrious entrance was made evident.
You may not have had all the luxuries of the few,
I wanted your environment to be a little deviant.
I had a special group of people in mind,
That I wanted to be the recipients.
I already knew of the timid times,
When you wanted the acceptance of those that went.
At school, at work, and even at home,
But it would be I whom you would represent.
That same group of people, you took to your very heart,
You became a little more confident.
You became the spokesperson of a blessed few,
Not knowing that one day, you would represent.
Now you have finally realized your true calling,
For a people who are hesitant.
To be whom I have chosen them to be,
For it is also I whom they represent.
You are loved by a few and rejected by many,
Though your calling is still evident.
And now I see that you are ready and capable,
For it is now time that you “REPRESENT”
No arrests have been made yet,
but an investigation and manhunt for the suspects are underway,” says police spokesperson
Col Mavela Masondo in a statement.
The family of the deceased was in Cape Town
when they tried to contact him but he could not be reached, a family friend went to check up on Gordin.“Upon arrival, she found the back door of the main house locked and the key of the door was in the lock on the outside, she entered the house and discovered that it was ransacked,” journalist was already dead with multiple injuries.A television and Gordin’s car were stolen.
Jayaha, the ameoba for the chemistry lab, was shy but she had a cause
She had a mission – she wanted to be emancipated
She asked me to be her spokesperson
Because she sensed I was a girl who would not say no
I was young then, and she was right.
My lab partner had gone to the bathroom when I got my chance at the microscope.
Jayaha was waving a sign that said “help me!”
She was holding it with the tiniest pseudopod I had ever seen.
By the time my partner got back Jayaha was in a slide in my pocket.
Why couldn’t she stand up to her relatives herself you ask?
Have you forgotten that ameoba has no backbone?
Written 5/18/2019
Poetry Contest: Dial it Back
Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy