Best Strikes Poems
A PM fairy's busy this year,
Bringing souper's some much needed cheer
Check if you have a star
A kind gift from afar
No doubt you're grinning from ear to ear!
1/07/20
War is a time of great conflict
bringing so much misery and suffering
to a generation of people mistreated
on their knees in it's wake
prayers are calling to Heaven
Where the innocence of children
becomes tainted
no longer having a voice
little ones confused
scratching behind the ears
Silence there dwells
hate filled secrets buried
under the carpet of lies not revealed
from the unspoken truth
Invaders are tyrants
dressed in suits no doubt
employing soldiers
brutally abusing their powers
given unto them by the peoples vote
With no morals how does society stand a chance
They are blind unconscious
to their acts and deeds of mercy
Sitting on their high seats of office
Purely a stand up joke
with false handshakes claiming peace
Stealing is not a God given right
quoting justice seeks answers
We have all been deceived
Democracy of the poor struggling does not exist
I call for world peace
Address all issues
laid out on the table containing truth
The day for nit picking is over
End this shameful bloodshed and violence
because there is always two sides to every story
Victims of racism
no blacks
no dogs
our race came lower classed than animals
shame on your envy of our father's faith
Kept down for centuries
Sold as slaves of little worth
I am a writer of my times
Where everyone
should have a voice equal
not hiding in the cupboard
Love in God's light
has taught me morals
thou shalt not steal
or take what does not
belong to you pride
Hate with the demons
you dwell crying
over your own spoiled milk
Where was Europe
during this crisis time
when human rights
became violated on our soil
As a child to have a gun
pointed at your face
is down right cruelty in the act
twisting acceptance of arrogance
through the vision of my eyes
looking down a barrel at me
Even yet years later
they remain silent
why I ask myself
when the grass is cut
before your eyes
into addressing murder and child abuse
big issue to act on
in realities fact
the reaper of truth sheds light always
TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THIS POEM PLEASE READ MY POEM 'NOT QUITE
WONDER WOMAN' AND TIM SMITH'S POEM A CALL TO BLUNDERWOMAN
Hey Tim’s kids get off your tush
Your dad is baking something lush
He’s made a massive tray of cake
Do the washing up for goodness sake
Then he’s going to mow the lawn
Poor guy’s been up since the crack of dawn
Then he will tackle the all the weeding
While you shout out ‘dad we need feeding’
So give your dad a lovely break
Surprise him with a special cake
I’d give you a hand but I’m not free
But please send a slice to me
Get off the x box and have some fun
Play in the park or go for a run
If dad is busy then give me a call
And Blunderwoman will scare you all
Then you will appreciate you dad
For Blunderwoman is really bad
She will fill your head with dread and fear
So do me a favour pour your dad a cold beer
Sit him down in front of the telly
With lots of food and wobbly jelly
Give him hugs and a special treat
Now he can relax and put up his feet
Jan Allison
3rd August 2014
Fall is my favorite time of the year
A lovely present that brings much cheer
Longing for the cool air that resides
Lifting me to higher grounds besides
Some pumpkins surely bring me the mood
The way the color and smell means food
Really the fall exquisite pieces like leaves
Ignite my senses as they are what I believe
Kindness seems to exude during this time
Everyone just loves the Fall and its line
So much greatness leaving it the sublime
Acrostic Poem About Fall or Winter Contest
14 September 2017
All along the dead valley
I walked with his gun…
How death could escape..
I gave up this thought
He broke my hope
With his narrow eyes
My plead was refused
Oh! That inhuman look…..
turned the sky black....
What prayers could save
this world at last
We were the ONE but we carried the gun....
Not sure about the title of this poem... Plz suggest?
Women’s rights?
Men in tights
Rising crime?
Hang wind-chimes
Covid fears?
Change careers
Stocks falling?
Piggy-bank calling
Nothing to do?
Learn Hindu
Don’t have a car
Play your guitar
Overeating?
Life is fleeting
The indelible stamp
of my favorite aunt
my birthday gift arrived
seven months late
Yet unwrapping the newspaper
was well worth the wait
Though the fruit cake was moldy ~
The ‘London Times' was first-rate
When love strikes
Love or the emotion of infatuation
is a disturbing feeling, making us
willing to risk humiliation
I have met and loved several women
In my life, but I have been in love once
That was when I was middle-aged
but quite unaware of my years
She spoke English wonderfully
Was it her voice I loved or herself?
The wife I had was English, too
but didn't like to live in Portugal, Liverpool
the place where she thrived
We got divorced, which I didn't mind
thought I had found the love I needed
In the woman who spoke wonderfully
The beginning was a lovely time
I even met her posh mother
The abar was where she drank heavily, but
I sat about rescuing her
To save someone who doesn't want
To be saved is a waste of time
Behind my back, she began an affair
With a Dutch person, why is that
Race tall and wear unrimmed glasses
For a while, I took up drinking, which
I'm not good at it; it makes me confused
I tried to unlove her, but she is still
in my heart as a sweet memory that
Once upon a time, I was young
Through the trees, they saw a light
As a haze o’er the village ahead
And weary from walking many miles
Two travellers thought they may find a bed
As they made their way to the village
A mist descended, cold and damp
Hindering the traveller’s on their quest
Shrouding the light from both window and lamp
Cloaked in the mist, the village was still
With no sign of life to be seen
As the traveller’s made their way to an inn
Ahead in the distance, a clock struck thirteen
As the last chime rang, from beyond the grave
Ghosts of the dead filled the streets
The travellers were frozen, unable to move
Fear and dread chilling their bones, head to feet
The traveller’s looked for a haven
But no matter how hard they tried
There was nowhere, for them to run to
With all routes of possible escape denied
Surrounded by the walking dead
And powerless in their plight
They were quickly consumed by spectres,
Who carried their souls off into the night
Satiated, the dead, returned to their graves
The clock once again struck thirteen
And two piles of dust, were all that remained
On the spot where the traveller’s had been.
Janette Fisher
Neptune must have used as parchment
Mother-of-pearl to inscribe his laws
For he’d richly rewarded the oysters
With an oceanic spa.
So, while seeking calm through deliberation
And enjoying the mud bubbles of my bath
Who should I spy in the distance?
But Calamity trudging up the path.
His foot arched out proud and haughty
Like the neck of a noble steed
As he pulled his crustaceous carriage
At a break-neck snail speed.
The mud began to feel like mortar
As I stonily watched him draw near
That audacious, contemptuous clam
Made my heart cry out with fear.
He passed by slow and haughty
Like an imperious, dismissive sigh
But as my tension began to dissipate
He kicked a mudball at my eye.
I watched warily, his insolent passage
Until he was but a tiny speck of dirt
Knowing I'd formed another pearl of wisdom,
From that impetuous, narcissistic squirt.
Luke has a special friend
That only he can see
He calls him Herbert Sherbet
Invisible to you and me
I have never seen him
But he must be real I presume
When things get broken it's never Luke
Though only he's in the room
So many ornaments broken
So many valuables lost
All destroyed by an invisible force
I dare not add up the cost
Luke likes kicking his football
Inside rather that out of the house
His friend always plays with him
Though unlike Luke he’s as quite as a mouse
SMASH, goes another valuable
I know who’ll get the blame
Luke of course a picture of innocence
As Mr. Invisible strikes again
Lightning flashes
across the sky.
Striking Houses,
starting fires.
The whole world watches
their homes burn.
It's a terrible tragedy.
Flames erupt everywhere!!
No one tries to help!!
The earth is doomed…
…or is it?
Inside a house
a dog watches
as the couch explodes.
He decides to help.
Hooray! The world is saved!
The bravery of one dog
saved the whole earth.
EVERYONE SHOUTS HOORAY!
The clock at the station strikes me sad
stuck at midnight or noon.
Its hands won’t tell which twelve.
But that’s not what strikes me sad,
not even the way you got off the train,
met me a block away
and seemed like you wanted to leave
the first second you set eyes on me.
You stood tall and dark and fidgety.
I couldn’t change your mind to make you stay.
And years later we are married
and you barely remember that autumn eve.
But not even that strikes me sad.
It’s the clock that stops when
someone leaves.
April 8, 2017
for Open Poetry Contest 2
sway armenian horde
your master,the ottaman
passes through your door
i wrote this to mark the anniversay of the ottaman/armenian war of 1915,today is the
marked anniversary.i believe this would be the view of maybe a young,swaggering ottaman
officer.