Best Stay Put Poems
* Collaboration of Limericks written by Jan Allison,
Tom Cunningham, Tania Kitchin and Lin Lane
Here's a news flash, the latest scoop
There are parasites in the soup
AI bottom feeders
Poet superceders
Those who cannot write worth a poop
Artificial intelligence is smart
But never uses words found in the heart
Some dolts use it to cheat
Thinking they are discreet
We should hit them in their butts with a dart
They say AI is here to stay
But plagiarism is another way
Some may copy/paste Poe
Or other greats you know
Add their name, it's sorted way hey!
We know you're fake and using AI
Your poems are nothing but a lie
Wanting to be cool
but instead, a fool
Now you can just leave our site, goodbye!
Some poets get Poem of the Day
It's AI, (of course they don't say)
AI contest "winners"
Are poetry sinners
Does admin prevent them - no way!
Real poets write using only their hand
AI users need more'n a reprimand
Deleting their accounts
'fore their winning surmounts
There should be a way they could all be banned
Stay put, no need to get out of bed
Or have a thought in your empty head
So, just ask Alexa
And she'll write it for ya
A shame you can't use your brain instead
What is your real poetry name?
As fake poems seem to be your game
All Plagiarism and AI
We're really not sure why
Your page is pathetically lame
Pestilence borne in the form of AI
Not of Biblical proportion but why
do you have need to chouse
Poets' concern and rouse
the community to feel so awry
On the day AI begins its world rule
People will still call each other a fool
Is the human race then doomed
AI will have us all groomed
To serve them as lowly slaves, a footstool
I asked a generator to write a Limerick, its response was...
An AI that wrote with great flair,
Could craft limericks beyond compare.
With rhythm and rhyme,
In a jiffy, each time,
It brought smiles to faces everywhere!
This was my response
No! au contraire, AI generator
Not everyone smiles at your creator
I will admit you're quick
but it's deceptive schtick
You're a bad poet's ego inflator
Up high on our soul’s trapeze
we tire of the bar we hold
but we find it hard to release our known.
Eyeing the free bar of full potential,
we wish to air dive, then faith-catch that swing
so we may fly to where our allure roves.
All crave heights something in us sights.
Here comes, now nears, the free bar
we thoroughly want to grab,
but fear paralyzes all dreams we have.
We tell ourselves what convinces ourselves
to stay put, we count the reasons we should:
"there’s no way it could work out;
not with the balance in my bank account;
I'm too body sorry and old for dating;
I’m so tiny they won’t want me playing;
If I joined, problems would just stack;
Not without good health that I lack;
Trying would just lead to more crying.
Many angels tend God’s blessing warehouse,
some dusting boxes of blessings bearing names
of those who felt they deserved no claim.
When faith lacked so did dust thick stack.
Father stressed pressed,
promised abundance,
yet many clutch less
and name it their best.
Such believing may weave soul regret debt
for our depth knows we were made to love, not fret.
A collaborative poem, written in renga format, or "linked-verse", by Timothy Hicks and Jesse Whitehead.
Verses in normal font are by me.
Verses in italic are by Jesse Whitehead.
January jest
drawing mustaches
in the newspaper
coffee to warm the hands
walking the railroad
refusing
to stay put
a child's balloon
spring in her step
red moon overhead
has dusk come already?
the field of tulips
seem to say
unwavering and gentle
strong as stone
mountain peaks
wind through summer meadows
a tender caress
lying there still
a heart-shaped mark
steady rhythm
ebb of the tide
broken shells
spiraling earthward
the last golden leaf
fading in and out
memories sweetly touched
a dancing flame
burning through pages
another x on the calendar
NOTE: This was my first attempt at a Renga poem, written in collaboration, with one of my best friends from Idaho, Jesse Whitehead. He's one of the few friends of mine whom I could discuss writing with. Though he typically writes fiction and stories, rather than poetry, he was willing to give this poetry format a go; and to my knowledge this was his first time writing poetry. It's a fun little challenge that I hope you all will give a try!
Oh readers, may my brevity be realized in this passage
Oh fruitful earth, may you please ignore our credulity
Oh bountiful harvest, may you please continue to feed our souls
Oh radiant stars, may you please not dim for we relish your glow
Oh loving sun, may you please shine into our yearning hearts
Oh blissful moon, may you please stay put as a marquee in darkness
Oh blanketing wind, may you please blow softly on uneasy minds
Oh hand of esoteric mystery, don't close your fist in disappointment
Oh love, I see your everlasting grip of the good
I see beauty in all you encompass
I see you encompass all that is beautiful
Oh love, I see how you walk in the hidden channel of eternal and mortal
I see you shine from each atom, I see you brimming from tears of joy and sorrow
Oh universe, is your magic a byproduct of love, or is loves magic a byproduct of you?
Who are you?
Beautiful are the good laws
Beautiful are the good smiles
Beautiful are the good tears
Beautiful is the mingling of good and natural
But what is good and natural? Beautiful
And what is beautiful? Love
The circle of infinity winds into itself, and begins again
With a touch it is electrified, and with a breath it can vanish
To understand, would require parameters, instead we take a step with eyes closed
If there's solid ground or quicksand is a mystery
In that mystery is where the verve and itch for life swells and dwells
Oh life, it is fun pretending to unravel riddles of your silent gifts, by atom smacking naively
We're swallowed by your breath; by asking why we breathe
When all the while, the answer is the question itself
Oh god, let us bask in your symbol as the totality of existence
Let us drown ourselves in reverence of your labyrinthine eyes
Who am I addressing? Love.
Who is love? You.
Just see
How fearlessly
Sunshine is seated
On the gravestone
And the caring breeze
Whispering to the loneliness
So absolute
Beneath the tombstone
A paleolithic stone
A meaningless silence
Guarding utterly alone
The desiccating non-existence
Here lies she
Neither sad nor happy
Decaying gingerly
Enriching the earth
Are all doors locked
The moment we breathe our last
Then why the philosophers and scientists say
Energy is neither created nor destroyed
Happy earth
Taking her in with mirth
Smilingly giving birth to
Green pink and yellow
Coz her face chiselled
Poetry in her dimples
Aggression in her pimples
She made the flowers bloom
Where there was just thorn
Dried hay on broken bricks
Rude words from unwashed mouth
All stared with amazement
Yes when she had her words and breath
Flow of life like a brook
Never dreamt of lying buried
Knew her life in wavelets only
In her looks
A cup of morning tea
A mug of evening coffee
Fountain pen and notebook
One who gave so much
To life and society
Will stop stay put and still
Useless skeletons?
In death too
To herself she is true
Providing nourishment to soil
Making room for red and violets
I look in wonder
You are still writing poetry
In these flowers of skeletons
Colours of desiccation
I am sure next spring
Here in this green cover
A Cypress will grow and spread
A recognition of yours rieker deeds
Now the afternoon is still here
Moments are tender and pale
Shadows are coming and going
Stillness of accumulated past
Intense is darkness
Beyond death of life
Like when a love
Suddenly ceased to exist
As I remember your face
I earn freedom from this cold ice
Your warm cheek and palm
Are still a vibrant support
In death you lie down here
Stay reassured
In life you are in our thoughts
Whenever a candle goes out
Whenever we run out of candles
We look for you at our centre
You never disappoint us
Ever lighting us a candle
This way death awakes in life
Cypress grows on lonely graveyard
This way shadows of deer and cheetahs
Rise in life to engage our eyes
_____________________________________
September 15 , 2017
Poems that paint a picture 2 Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
In snow
Walk slow
If stuck
Hard luck
Bad foot?
Stay put
Forced stay
Delay
A sleigh!
Hooray!
---------------------------------
Contest: March of the Footle
Sponsor: Timothy Hicks
I must have been five
And my brother only four
Feeling adventurous
We explored the wooden area
A stone's throw from home
I had the bright idea
To climb that tall oak tree
It was so grand and majestic
I told my brother to stay put
I climbed up and up
Way out onto a branch
Then I had nowhere to go
Stuck I couldn’t back up
Ended up flipping over
Arms and legs
Precariously wrapped
Around a rough old branch
Looking straight up at the sky
I knew I was in trouble
When my grip got loose
And my little arms let go
I held my breath to no avail
Free falling slow motion
It was the strangest feeling
To see my little body
Flat on its back
From way up above
And hearing a deep voice
Out of my own throat
Saying to go get help
Laying there motionless
As I watched still from way above
Like never again ever in my life
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 20, 2017 for contest POEMS THAT PAINT A PICTURE 3 sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 4TH
Seeking Serenity
To seek serenity is simpler said than done
at times so filled with sadnesses that come and go.
When one's resolved or healed, another has begun...
nowhere to go; nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
The choice...stay put, adapt, relaxing with life's flow.
Support comes from inside with paths to guide us through,
adjusting thoughts to glorify life's peaceful side,
embracing joy beneath the sun and skies of blue.
Hope, love, and faith can transfigure the darkest view!
Serenity...the calm...to where we steer life's ride.
Sandra M. Haight
~9th Place~
Contest: Rhyme Battle XI
Sponsor: Juli- Michelle
Judged: 12/05/1018
~10th Place~
Premiere Contest: Late May 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 05/29/2018
~2nd Place~
Contest: Rhyme Time 2
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 04/24/2018
Rhyme Scheme: ABAAB CDCCD
Can I picture being on a plane
Or in a car that’s rented?
Eating indoors in a restaurant,
My fears all circumvented?
Can I see myself discovering
My flight’s been scratched from going,
Just pacing in the airport lounge,
My panic up and growing?
I am stuck inside a Covid box
Despite my three injections,
Yet when I think of breaking out,
I face the same objections.
Perhaps I’ll never reach the point
Of feeling safe and stronger,
But ‘til that day arrives, I will
Stay put a little longer.
Views evolve, revolve
devolve… dissolve
Values stay put
~ require resolve
She’s eighty-nine years of age
So wise she’s quite a sage
As long as she’s sane
Long may she reign
I do hope she draws a good wage
She married Prince Phillip who’s Greek
His gaffes sometimes make him a geek
When he opens his mouth
His brains they go south
The Queen cringes when he starts to speak
They live in London in a palace so grand
The finest royal residence in the land
Waited on hand and foot
I guess they will stay put
Crowds are entertained by a marching band
Prince Charles is King in waiting
His mother’s reign he is berating
Banana skins on the floor
Superglue on the door
Some hope he will never be King
He married Camilla Parker Bowles
She loves to drive off in the ‘Rolls’
Before he was married to Di
Camilla had caught his eye
And now his heart she controls
Contest: Long Live The Queen
Sponsor: Judy Konos
05~09~15
Love is pleasure and is always patient
In all its pure form it is always kind
Love is considerate and is not jealous
In its nature it cannot be boastful
Real love is neither arrogant nor proud
Love is tolerant and it is not rude
Love has power to quash signs of being rude
When love is provoked it remains patient
In all its achievements love is not proud
Love favours not only those of the same kind
Yet, love avoids all those who are boastful
Love builds you up if you are not jealous
In faith love prospers without being jealous
Subtract love from the heart to become rude
Join the crowd of fools to become boastful
Let mockers mock but stay calm and patient
And work for the good of all human kind
And let fruits of your labour make you proud
In His Highness God has never been proud
Only sinners can make God become jealous
To those who confess their sins God is kind
For while God leaves those who become rude
To a fool God is not always patient
For He condemns every tongue that is boastful
When love is insecure tongues are boastful
As ego pushes lovers to be proud
Snatching their chance to stay put and patient
Instead provoking them to be jealous
Altering them from being good to being rude
Making the world to see them as not kind
To pretend to be nice is not being kind
For when hearts are full tongues become boastful
Spitting words that fit a brat who is rude
A spoilt brat who knows only how to be proud
When people are happy a spoilt brat is jealous
Cause spoilt brats never learn to be patient
Almost all who are patient become kind
But all who are jealous become boastful
If they are proud, certainly they are rude
Oh, fuming teardrop!
You’ve boiled over from wrath and anger,
leaving painful blisters as you sear the heart
Why you don’t evaporate is a wonder
but there must be a valid reason…
If only to let the heart know it lives
Oh, fuming teardrop!
Will you ever learn how to forgive?
Oh, defiant teardrop!
Teetering on the edge and glistening,
refusing to fall to make yourself known
It is not fickle mindedness playing,
rather, a power play of emotions
a blatant refusal to show what’s within
Oh, defiant teardrop!
Why even stop yourself before you begin?
Oh, crocodile teardrop!
If you were truly so, slink back shamefully,
recede to your lacrimal gland and stay put
There is no need for your insincerity,
the world is chaotic as it is, too troubled
Fall not, trickle not, trick not who see you
Oh, crocodile teardrop!
How can you be so heartless to fool people so true?
Oh, pensive teardrop!
How gracefully you streak down window sills
Wash away grime and grit, cleanse everything
Flow unhindered, purify hearts you fill
Laughter may be the music of the soul,
but you are pure— the distilled spirit
Oh, pensive teardrop!
Will you course down blackened hearts, pay a visit?
Oh, jubilant teardrop!
Married to laughter, frolic and dance to its tune
Give birth to hope then soar with elation
Brighten faces, sparkle days, light up the moon
Let souls remember that you speak of pain, joy
Let them remember, then allow them to heal
Oh, jubilant teardrop!
Why did I ever doubt that you are spirit revealed?
04062011
**for Paula’s “Beseech “ contest :)
A Victim of the war
*
Steve L. Siegel
December 2, 2014
Once there lived a fine young city boy,
once so brave, true and Restless, filled with
energy And somewhat foolish too He went to join
the US Army Adventure filled his mind He knew that
for a soldier's life, all of this he was destined.
He did his training in a camp at Ft. Ord Calif.
Than on to Ft Benning GA, home of the jump school.
Where he became a member of the 101 First Airborne
Oh, man did he ever wear those silver jump wings proud
and the Wings of the 101 First, Screaming Eagles.
He did not know it at the time, but maybe he did,
for he was destiny was Vietnam.
They stole his feelings, taught him how to kill
and walk those jungle trails And taught him
that the enemy were the evil men
Then he went off to fight a war that he might not
of believed in but the call went out, now
he'll serve his country's need; just as his dad
had done in the last great war.
Now the old young man of what was,
Only now he's a shell of a man,
A victim of the war now too.
He can't seem to find himself in this world.
His own nation has turned against him,
the nightmares never seem to go away.
His next door neighbor that he knew forever
called him a baby-killer. Don't that beat all?
Now he is on his fourth marriage, and they wonder
why he can not stay put, his wife wonders why
she end up going to bed alone most nights?
It's because he has to make sure that
everything is in place before
he goes to bed; Yes,
It's hell being a Victim of the damn war...
For my bother who was killed in May of 68 and
myself who I think sometimes part of me died
at Albany with the 120 brothers of mine who
did answer the roll call the next day in Oct of 65.
What do I want to write?
I think I will write about the seriousness of God
Does God want you to be serious?
In the same token, He will be serious with you
Do you keep your promises?
Do you do what you say?
We as humans are frailing creatures
We can try if we want to
But we can never be compared to God
We can never be measured up to God
Yet we think we are great
So just think how great God would be lol
So do you think God keeps His promises and does what He said?
It depends in the day, right? lol
Get it straight my friend
He keeps His promises in all kinds of days
We are the ones who fail Him
We are the ones who are whishy washy lol
But remember God is not like that
So if He puts in your spirit that He will do something for you
Trust that He would
He usually lets you know when He is about to do it
Yes He does announce
in His own way
We have to be sensitive to it
And we can never make God to do anything
So don't even try
Let Him come to you
He will do in His own sweet time haha
All you can do is wait my friend
Yes wait lol
Anyway that's enough about this subject that I want to say
So stay put and stay tuned
Be still, will ya