Best Suggestions Poems
Read the poem, and the poet
Paint the roses, and the vase
Envy the role, and the actress
Enjoy the soup, and the dish.
Love the person, not the looks
Miss the kiss, not the lips
Ride the road, not the bike
Smell the ocean, not the fish.
Grow old, but stay calm
Write bold, but speak less
Dream often, but cry more
Hope big, but make one wish.
Queen Hillary's election to the presidency seems a foregone conclusion,
Brought about by back-room deals, magical tricks and considerable illusion.
I thought I'd offer suggestions for her cabinet officers (as if she cared),
To surround herself with top-notch people so that she is fully prepared.
Jane Fonda, who loves the military, I'd suggest for Secretary of Defense.
Tax evader 'Rev' Al Sharpton, as head of the IRS would make a lot of sense.
The Department of Labor needs a person who is considered top-drawer;
The only guy who I can think of for that job is super-patriot Michael Moore.
The Education Department could be offered to Jesse Jackson, the 'preacher',
And from that bully-pulpit expound his inane babble to every teacher.
Pelosi for Department of Transportation since she knows her way around.
She's adept at using government planes for junkets for which she's renowned.
The inventor of the internet, Al Gore, would qualify for Secretary of Interior.
He could rant and rave about melting ice, a topic about which he feels superior.
How about Barbra Streisand for the important job as Secretary of State.
(She'd outshine Hillary from all her antics we've learned about of late.)
Former Congressman Anthony Weiner might possibly serve on her staff,
But I'll leave his job for Hillary to name -I want no part of that gaffe!
There must be something for Bubba Billary to do, her ever-faithful spouse;
Ah! I know! He could 'manage' young female interns working at the House!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Don't back up car near neighbor's pool
Do pay your latest traffic fine.
Close window first, then yell, "you fool!"
It's wise to always look behind.
If driving an elderly "jewel,"
remember: gears aren't there to grind
If all else fails, try traffic school.
Take bus if over eighty-nine.
Do not tell me, please
how to cut the celery
I do things myself
Some Thoughts, Suggestions and Ideas
If it is my thought or my idea, it is the best
one. The more force I feel to do something,
the more resistance I will have to do it. The
more I make someone think that my idea is
theirs, the more willing they will be to accept
it of course. Why should we have to force
someone to do something that God actually
commanded?
Affirmative action is a prime example. That
is supposed to be a natural instinct that all
of us have. If I force you to have to do it,
you have a guilty conscience realizing you
should have been doing it all of the time.
The more guilty your conscience is, the
harder and more difficult it is for me to
get you to do it.
When we are constantly reminded of how
wrong we are, the more resistant we will
become towards accepting what we should
have been doing in the first place.
Finally, if a destructive nature takes over
all other precedence's the final result will
be total destruction. When God built the
earth, he never had to destroy anything
in order to create something else. He just
kept on building and building and building.
It was humanity who has continually tried
to destroy and pollute things. We try to
wrong all of God's rights. What a shame
Fraud, waste and abuse are the things
that cause the decline in all of humanity.
What we want to be and seek is safety,
sanity and security not swastikas, stupidity
and sin. The handwriting on the wall is
plain and pure. When you want something
that is revolting then what occurs is a
revolting development. Also, it is hard
to revolt against something when you
don't understand clearly what it is or was.
So can you and do you want to see clearly
now or do you want to put it off and not
face reality? I want to be like the first part
while Presidential candidates seem to favor
the other part. How about you? Jim Horn
reality?
I have wondered what Poetry Soup would be like
If poems submitted were subject to critical eyes
And contributors were free to critique the poems,
To say how they really feel about a poem, to analyze.
Of course, it cannot be, for we are a thin-skinned bunch
Often our feelings are hurt by the slightest correction
And, I am of the opinion having been here for a while
We all think we are so fantastic, we need no inspection.
Well, I, for one, realize my poetry would be much better
If I had the opinion of those who could read me critically
Not those who would merely wish to tear me down,
But who would help me become a better poet, literally.
I would welcome those kinds of sincere suggestions
Although, I must warn you, I don’t accept advice so well
So, be careful how you approach my best efforts,
I know my poems would improve if they laid aside a spell.
With this being said, let’s continue to be kind to each other
Appreciating each other’s comments and camaraderie,
But, if you see an obvious mistake in one of my offerings
Do not hesitate! Please, by all means, point it out to me.
Written November 27, 2022
The sun rises and sets to show me I'm still standing
The birds fly then rest, get back up again to show me
Although life is hard I gotta keep moving
Flower bloom, refreshes the world, showin me there can be happy ending
Although they die and I cry I prepare for there warm return
My heart still cries, the pain I still hide
But,
I wake up with a smile on my face
No matter what happenes
I'mma live my life to the fullest,
Tuck away, but always remember the mistakes I make
Carry them around and make the second time around the right way. . . .
I write poems quickly with not much patience
And need suggestions with recommendations
Regarding poems which were written by me
Designed for the average and not aristocracy.
The following comments are what I received
Was she by my poems really being deceived
And also many of my points may have missed
You could add to a awfully, really very long list.
Some fine themes and ideas are in your poetry.
Yet, I get tripped-up by some of your forced wording
(that really detract me from your intent)
And your basic grammar often can be confusing.
I do wish you would proof-read your work for spelling,
grammar, and understanding before throwing it out there!
Any and all serious writers ALWAYS revise their work.
You have such a sensitive heart and also so much to say!
However, my opinion is that you need to focus more on
"polishing" your poems up when you want others to value
the concepts that you want to and are trying to convey.
Above are comments I received my Poetry Group Coordinator.
In her earlier life, she was a thoughtful teacher and an educator.
The same also applies to most of the other members as well,
And I am different from them all of them, you can always tell.
There are almost 20 at times in the poetry group.
Of them all, two or three others and I are the only males.
To me, writing poems like therapy in the form of a release.
Each poem which I write just comes naturally flowing out.
Often thoughts and ideas are from what I heard on the news.
It may only be two words which I woke up with in my head.
If you see anything confusing in my poems that you don't
understand please be sure to let me know what they are.
James Thomas Horn
www.poetrysoup.com
I now have entered over 300 poems in my Poetry Soup account.
They tell us we are pressure cooking Earth..
I wonder, are we melting away our values and humanity, too?
Pollution and an Eco-friendly way of life are today's hot topics..
What about our contaminated souls??
We are taught to stand up firm against the wave and not to follow the crowd..
What about the Tsunami of lies, deception, and hypocrisy?
How do we protect our sanity, our children from this moral carnage?
Are there any 'Eco-friendly' solutions to prevent such deterioration..
I give up... Any suggestions?
Im a deep thinker
not much of a drinker
I don't break the rules
I ain't no fool
I'm dedicated
I'm highly educated
I dont wear a disguise
I keep my eyes on the prize
I'm a bit crazy
not a bit lazy
I learn from mistakes
I give more than I take
I expect nothing in return
I let the fire burn
I don't pass judgement
I rely on discussion
I don't make assumptions
I always make adjustments
I do not steal
I know how it feels
I'm tired of being the grease
to your constantly squeaking wheel
I do not destroy
I rebuild and create
I don't debate
I'd rather negotiate
I forgive
I never forget
no room for regret
when you don't place bets
I'm a singer and a writer
a lover not a fighter
I'm grateful
never hateful
always starving
yet serving a plateful
I care deeply for others
Im a proud mother
I'm speaking clearly
yet you hear a stutter
I repay my debts
I show others respect
I give all that I have
and this is what i get?
I don't seek revenge
I always bend!
I never attack
when stabbed in the back
I do not spite
I do what is right
no reason to harm ya
for I have faith in karma.
Sublime reflections ,eye catching tableaux
monstich ekphrasis tribute to Dutch realism in art
Hear me recite from my 4000+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro..
catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter..
read my kindle guides on amazon
This is me.
This is me.
Not caring so much about caring,
but still caring.
Because to be labeled sane you'll have to care.
And still I'm falling short of prerequisites placed upon me by your judgemental faces, my life choices are like Facebook filled with unwanted comments.
Hanging, out the window like my own dirty socks.
Made to feel short even though I'm tall.
In that imposed suggestion box.
Your assumptions like sticky notes attached to my skin, clawing at my flesh with that he said she said pastes.
And I faced this too many times, this pointless tune repeated playlist.
I showed you my own naked skin,
and you made up the rest.
You exaggerated rumours caused this tumor in my head, like a poison your words spread haunting every choice I'd make.
Criticizing my thoughts, movements and actions pretending like your own glorious transactions are legit.
Sprouting your own bad seeds.
Greed.
Envy.
And post traumatic everything and I mean literally everything because everything has it's own string.
Not always is it no strings.
Not always does it adhere to sin.
The world is grey.
No one's perfect.
That mindset alone will make things certain.
For you.
For me.
For us.
No judgement passed shall downplay my self worth so I could fit in your facade that you call your,
"Class."
Or maybe just another message placed, in that imposed suggestion box.
17/08/17?
Ideas I need,
Give me topics for Haikus,
Down in the comments.
Without malice nor forth-thought,
no wide dee what aye will write
and thus would gladly take suggestions,
hence coon sitter this
manifesting poetic effort an in vite
unusual, yes, boot
oft times mental blitzkrieg
brainstorm relapses (pondering)
the same trite,
hence on a whim aye pulled
out all the stops in an effort
to zero in on an in site
full topic in situ, which need
not be politically wrong or right
and trying to tow the line (to avoid
upsetting some person,
faction, ethnicity...quite
impossible, and...oh gnome hatter
that any individual
could share unpleasant
worldly news, (aye avoid
gloom of neigh sayers),
and much prefer to weigh in on
the contemplation of a personal plight,
which sudden on rush of ideas
(akin to an emotional tsunami)
usually occurring at night,
whereby an indomitable surges
of overwhelming might
flashes thru my consciousness light
ting up thine entire cerebral circuitboard,
whereupon this white knight
feels mounted up a wild steed
with fiery eyes that seem to ignite
reining up on hind quarters
to an exceptional height
and now reached a writer impasse, I abhor,
where flow of bubbling ideas
find me marooned as if
stranded on a sand bar
came to screeching stop, thence desperation
analogous caught in a traffic,
and ready to jump out the car
or perhaps feeling
a day late, and dollar
short aghast that glib flow, an exception
that showed me as a
false prophet with no exemplar
of English language with prospects
landing deal as best selling author far
remote then getting struck
by lightening twice starkly aware
ma fingers could not even play
a one string guitar.
Leaves brown and broken lay upon the ground,
Reminiscent of my scarred heart.
Slowly dying day after day.
Winter winds blow; shredding what's left.
These leaves will never be reborn.
And I...there is no salvation for one such as I...