Best Stints Poems


Premium Member Tonight

In-flight
In pheromone
Honeysuckle perfume
Insect antennae knot freshly
bouquet.

In breeze
I feel your breath
rustle shiny reeds
of my stints' hapless hinterland
you learn.

A vest
of velveteen
gleaming wings that trembled
Turn to a whirring glint beneath
full moon.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stints, analogy, appreciation, flower,
Form: Cinquain

Premium Member Alzheimer's Parody

her mask unchanging
rippling reality stints
despair’s fiery pits

sanity tilted
crust layered with razor blades
echo touched voices

opposites control
revolving kaleidoscope
serene destruction

sketchy shadow paths
Alzheimer’s parody stains
fog filled memories


Janet L Vick
© Janet Vick  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stints, health, life, loss,
Form: Senryu

Premium Member Hills Are Not For Kings

Feelings of
resentment, I
spurred my
immaturity, my old
man, bestowed his
lousy gift of
unwanted knowledge.
taking from him
lessons,
ungratefully, these
lessons were for
life and patience, I
saw as he worked the
entire world.
From basketball
grounds, to going to
my bedroom, home
court advantages all
his, sitting on his
throne

Angers swelling high
Embarrassment had I 
My day would come
soon

 Early years had I
that passed,
enduring all those
moments, feelings
disappointments
almost every day, I
grew numb
I, believing for
long stints, life
does not care for
happiness such as
mine, and I gazing
at the man of the
hour every hour
like royalty, taking
my defeats less like
a man, more like a
subject would he
ever pass the
scepter? 

Spending those
moments
I appreciated more
In the coming years

I watched five
o'clock shadows,
form on the court,
his face, our
memories, I felt new
kinds of sadness to
win
Getting closer to
his score,
understanding his
game more each day,
I panicking, so used
to being the loser
thought those days
would never end, a
mentality to fail
once more might
revive our spirits

Mutual respect
Changing of the
guard had come
All so bitter sweet
Categories: stints, life, relationship,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Unwanted Ads

Ego between stints -
narcissistic derelicts
scope the classifieds.
Vanity cracks masked mirrors -
Arrogance need not apply.
© John Heck  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stints, angst
Form: Tanka

Salt Lake

On my first trip to the outback across the endless plains,
I saw a harsh and hungry land in pastel coloured stains.
There are more secrets out there, than sun and shifting sand -
It would take more than my lifetime to ever understand.

I saw Eagles, Wrens and Butcherbirds; Kangaroo and Emu,
blending with the Saltbush, in Mallee scrub and Heathland too.
Choughs flock along the roadside. Bearded Dragons soak up sun;
a King Brown sweeps with lightning speed; a Goanna on the run.

A sight to behold my thirsty eyes; a lake filled blue and wide,
big as any ocean I have seen. I could not see the other side,
Wildflowers bloom with coloured heads; purple, red and blue.
The Eremophila and Cassia display, a dull but greyish hue.

Black dots littered 'cross the surface in their thousands do amaze.
Ducks, Pelicans, Swans and Coots - further than the shimmering haze.
Long legged Stints with sticky beaks tread sand along the shore.
Swallows skimmed the water - what fish surfaced I'm not sure.

To stand alone amid this beauty, surely, too few of us will see.
Below the skies unending azure blue - vastness runs away from me.
I get the chance to have reflection now 'bout hardships in my hand,
but troubles in my life seem small when casting eyes across this land.

Once I left the sandy shoreline, this reflection stayed a while
etching past the endless Saltbush, which grows mile after mile.
And the dry and dusty plains return where water’s hard to find -
I yearn for comforts of my home - yet crave the views I left behind.
Categories: stints, beauty, nature,
Form: Rhyme

Jump Start My Heart

Jump Start My Heart



The pulse is barely detectable growing weaker every second
Oxygen, breath of life so thin the moment he went through the glass
Emergency, emergency, code red means critical care needed
Emergency, emergency more time the monitors have pleaded

Through double hissed air lock doors the gurney comes to rest
Only if time gave a little bit more to save these eyes from death
Emergency, emergency critical DOA arrival for the morgue to receive
Emergency, emergency donor card active what organs can we retrieve

Systematic checks and tests to match up with lists of lives who bleed
Cross referenced and graphed a positive match for a heart in need
Emergency, emergency redirect the gurney into operation room 9
Emergency, emergency start to finish we only have a few hours time

The DOA lays bared, incisions everywhere, the largest in mid chest
The helicopter awaits, a panic state, flying a cooler way out west
Emergency, emergency clinging to life left with little chance
Emergency, emergency the EKG is flat as death gets a transplant

Life anew stitched in, arteries in stints, preparing to revive a heart
All plugged in, wired skin, electrical pulses give life a jump start
Emergency, emergency failed revival on the first three tries
Emergency, emergency on the fourth life beats to opening eyes




Written for contest: "Wake Up My Heart" 11/04/17
WON 1ST PLACE IN CONTEST RESULTS
Categories: stints, deep, giving, hope, life,
Form: Free verse


Six of Three and a Couple Extra For Me

Richard clerihewed me yesterday
Why the nerve, I should have got him first I say
Then I laugh still wondering if clerihewed is a word
Realizing that many conventions in our language are up surd   

The Clown of Clerihews, what a moniker Moe would say
I could probably write a lot of these everyday
The ballade though, not a form for a dummy
If I can convince ForDummies publishing, surely I'll make money

I'm butchering the king's English Curly would say
As a child I'd watch three stooges reruns everyday
Yes at that time Curly was my favorite of the three
A poem with nyuk, nyuk nyuk, is a sight to see

I'm not sure what Larry would add
Being the only of the original four from a different dad
A musician yes, a great violinist they say
Healy said he pay him $90 a week and extra $10 to throw that fiddle away

What about Shemp can't forget the other brother
Yes Shemp, Moe, and Curly had the same mother
In the latter years I've grown to like him as well
He was actually one of the original two, or so they tell

Joe Besser, hah, definitely the lame duck
Being Jewish, I'm sure the other three would call him a smuck
Some of his appearances I have to tolerate
I'm a fan of the other two with him, so I can't hate

One more for Stinky Davis, as he was called on Albert and Costello
A role he played, definitely not the role of a hero
They all said he wouldn't take a pie in the face
Did he not know the other 40 years of stooges history, what a disgrace

I purposely left Joe DeRita or Curly Joe
He had two stints with The Stooges I know
Was the one short film Snow White and
I have him below Joe Besser, that can't be grand

I guess ThePhilosopher, now lower shouldn't judge
In the 50's he didn't even live a nudge
I was born quiet a while later
Ok I admit it, of Joe I'm a hater




Even having fun in my hate of Joe Besser lol. He had a very extensive acting career, and there was a reason he was allowed to be there without taking pies in the face. He was actually acting out his own character that he developed over his comedy career, so that's kind of impressive. After posting had to add in Joe DeRita, or Curly Joe, lest you thought I forgot his important roles lol
Categories: stints, horror,
Form: Clerihew

My Truths & Thoughts

we're living in an era of ignorance 
we lost our innocense
at fourteen your too young to vote but old enough for death sentences

these politcians are hypocrits
for the atrocities that they commit we face imprisonment

durring this pro American sentiment
how could we forget the scores of poor ignored
while we finance a war 

that bombs then rebuilds them
feed their children

while the ones back home
have to fend for their own

life is wonderul and miserable depends on the time frame
the birth of Almasi(my son) the death of Dwayne(my cousin)

I went bezerk it hurt clutching his blood soaked shirt
while he lay on the Earth leaking blood on the dirt
I cried to the sky please guide me father
at times this world is so dark I need night vision goggles

i lost friends to ignorance
bullets and jail stints
drug habbits and various patterns of bull ish 
I've navigating through dangerous
streets trying to claim us
beast trying to tame  us
friends turned to strangers
I have ducked heat from flammers
by mennacing strangers
thinking I will survive like gloria gaylor

its a small world but I got big plans
but it gets hard like trying to jog through quicksand
but I found GOD on both knees with cluthced hands 
but kept getting invitations from the Devil to dance

so i went below the surface
became more observant

hand shakes are fake they dont mean a thing
a smile can be a predator preparing his fangs

I severed ties with friends who's minds were stagnated
had king pin dreams but never quite made it

friendships were torn
and habbits were formed

and the ones who escaped crack
heroin snatched

and I engaged in acts that were so unGodly
only he can judge me punish me or pardon me

watching this world makes me shed eye water 
our sons get slaughtered  and denegrated ours daughters
its the sign of the times cant you see that people
first it rained airplanes then the mail was lethal

ghetto youths indisputes they spray A.K s
suburban kids throw pipebombs in school hallways
after so many years of feeding violence to youths
I guess those chickens came home to roost
Categories: stints, angst, black african american,
Form: Rhyme

Addiction Ii

Addiction II
I listen carefully to gage what you are covering up
To hear if your words are slurred
Or your outlook too bleak, 
Or if you have verged into mania.
I tell myself, 
This is the nature of addiction.
I try not to take it personally, but
I internalize your depression and misplaced rage.
I love to hear from you on a good day
Straining towards the normalcy in your voice 
Recalling how you once were, and could be again
Imagining all the fun we could have as sisters.
Setting myself up to fall when you crash.
I cover for you to try to spare others the worry
How many stints in the ICU will it take 
“to reach rock bottom?”
I have been encouraged to walk away but I cannot.
My guilt and my love and my powerlessness weigh heavy.
This is the nature of addiction.
Categories: stints, addiction, sister,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Mythical Chicago

Once "City of Big Shoulders,"
 Stockyards and industrial concerns:
  A man's self-worth measured
   By muscle and energy burned.

Today the stockyards are shuttered,
 The Face of Livelihoods changed;
  From Meat-packing and Manufacturing---
   To Financial Services and Video Games.  

Serving loyally with blind dedication,
 Following only a high school education,
  Lifetime stints at one factory or plant,
   Today simply ain't where it's at:
    Mere shards of memory
    Of what life was before
    Everyone had a college degree,
  And sought work in a plush office indoors,
  As opposed to lifting heavy two-by-fours.

Looking back at Chicago's history
 Over the last century,
  Our task is this simple question to ask:
   Have we moved ahead and progressed?
         Are our lives any better?
   Or have we reversed and regressed---
   Spending the prime of our lives studying letters?

It's easy to end a poem on such a note,
Leave the reader to cast his or her vote;
  But I'll not finish off with a nod a wink,
  I'll let you know what I actually think:

Chicago was rough, Chicago was tough,
 Her denizens coarse and gruff;
  Not much for culture or fashion,
   Artists and poets she was constantly bashin.'
Workingmen reveled in their muscles,
 Frequently engaging in tussles
  With their bosses over hours and wages,
   Oft-ending in fisticuffed rages---
    And the workers sentenced to 6' x 8' cages.
Gangsters like Capone and Dillinger flourished,
 By slimy politicos encouraged
  To extort and shake down
   Workingmen all over town,
    At deserted sites with nary a copper around.

Sometimes we look back and forget how it was,
 When education and the arts were slighted,
 And even good neighborhoods were blighted:
   Where an ugly picture emerges
   Of exploitation and funeral dirges.

So let us be grateful for what we have in some precincts today,
And hope that Chicago's future points to an even brighter day.
Categories: stints, chicago, corruption, hope, murder,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Pocket-Memories

Pocket-Memories
           by Odin Roark

Layers of love are never lost
Even after a good bath

How long had it been?

A mantle of dust
A bit of sand
Some fish oil residue
“gives special character”
He used to say

So many days now past
Magnifying ants
Imagined horror stints 
Trimming a yolk branch
For slingshot accuracy
Screwdriving Erector Set connections
Gutting deep-lake spinner catches
Leather punching favorite belts
Ah the looking back

Now like new once more
Everything tucked back in
Servitude getting momentary rest
As a hand-me-down’s rebirth 
Awaits new challenges 

It’s peaceful under here
Dark and warm
Haven’t been this clean forever
Kind of eerie
Like narrow canyons awaiting sunrise

Loved being cocooned back in my box
Wrapped in red and white
Yellow ribboned for giving
All set to surprise

Soon

His grandson’s pocket-memories will begin
As that’s what Swiss Army Knives are for…
Passing to the next
What makes growing up never ending
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stints, memory,
Form: Free verse

Expatriation In the Greatest Nation

Written November 19, 2015


Paint it with Tom and Tiny Tim
Then have thanksgiving dinner with your aunt Lisa and your crazy uncle Jim
Here I am
Uncle Sam I am
Sitting on a white picket, barbed wire fence

Spent two stints in the army
With my aunt's uncle's great nephew
Guess that makes him my cousin
See we don't have much communication
Expatriation leads the nation
So I listen to a one of a kind hipster radio station
That sounds just like the rest

Let's have some fun and paint it red white and blue
Hell, let's paint a picture of me and you
Painting a picture of you and me
Sitting on a dock overlooking the great blue sea
You see, life isn't what you wanted it to be
'Cause in the end
It's just a picture of a picture of you and me

So go back to your story and paint it black and white
Paint it with Tom and Tiny Tim
Then go to the next thanksgiving dinner with your dead aunt Lisa and your now sane uncle Jim
Here I am
Uncle Sam I am
Sitting on a white picket, barbed wire fence
Categories: stints, absence, angst, emotions, life,
Form: Free verse

Tongue of Media

Tongue of Media

Book of James, Chapter 3.

Must be tongue of media that is massive
Say things in voice either active of passive
And then later found to be in future tense
Tongue should only be moving in short stints.

What a big difference tough tongue will make
And many breathes away it just might take
So instead of having to be heart-rending
Use tongue for what God was intending.

Now that on the differences we did decide
And in quaint corner no longer have to hide
If you start studying hard and remain inside
God your mind and future will open wide.

James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stints, allegory, analogy, philosophy,
Form: Couplet

A Stretch of Island Foreshore

A constant charging and retreating,
leaving behind the soaking sand,
is the ever changing of the tide,
pushing the sea against the land.

And all along the changing shoreline,
Pacific Gulls glide on patrol,
seeking out the ocean bounties,
of washed up departed souls.

There’s flotsam and old cuttlebone;
driftwood finally makes the shore.
Stints and waders chase invertebrate
stranded along the sandy floor.

And up above high water mark,
there is the victims of wild gales.
Dead sea grass in drying windrows,
meander below sand dunes in trails.

New Zealand spinach thrives and spreads.
Marram grass has stabilized the dunes,
and here and there is native spinifex,
among the burrows of communes.

These communes arrive in early spring 
in thousands to the burrows each year,
so it becomes a special time,
with mutton birds returning here.

And constant charging and retreating,
leaves behind the soaking sand,
in the ever changing of the tide,
pushing the sea against the land.
Categories: stints, nature,
Form: Rhyme

The Prince's Wife, Part Ii

...In the capital a great feast was thrown
to welcome Larren back from the frontier.
Minstrels sang songs of his victories,
while they ate venison and drank beer,
the whole city thronged with good cheer.
But Larren was subdued in the feasting hall,
his betrothed sat across from him, haughty and tall.

Her name was Berice, a princess of the south,
quiet pretty but not the kindest around.
Her tongue was sharp, her manner aloof,
both in bed chambers and tournament grounds,
Sse saw this marriage as a great step down.
But Larren had a duty, and they were wed,
and went, cold and distant, to the marital bed.

Though the king praised this noble pairing,
and so did his great heir, the crown prince,
Larren found his wife a drain on his soul,
and hard to bear, ever for short stints,
of true affection, she showed not a hint.
She took to his bed only at fertile times,
to bear him an heir, with no love in her eyes.

To make matters worse, by the first month’s end
Great King Rael was beginning to flag.
A fever set in, yellow came to his eyes,
and his breath in great rasps did drag,
Larren spent weeks by the bedside of his dad.
When he passed on, Crown Prince Duhran rose,
he made Larren chief general, the bane of his foes.

Five months passed, and Larren’s misery grew,
no accolades or awards could assuage
the loneliness he felt, the true lack of love
sometimes drove him quite close to rage,
he began to look older than his age.
His brother, the king, said,”Take a mistress,”
Larren couldn’t say he’d already had the best…

Then a new foe arose in the far west,
encouraged by the death of King Rael.
They besieged the citadel Larren had held,
and committed crimes that were beyond the pale,
rape and slavery were their grisly tales.
Duhran sent Larren with all of the troops
to smash the heathen invaders for good.

Larren arrived, somewhat glad to be gone,
back doing something he knew quite well.
Gladder still was her to be free of his wife,
Though to others this truth would not tell,
not when battle raged at the citadel.
Once on the scene her surveyed the siege,
then lined up his troops, and charged to their relief…

CONTINUES IN PART III
Categories: stints, adventure, lost love, love,
Form: Epic
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