Best Superiors Poems


Premium Member I Sat Beneath a Veteran Oak

I sat beneath a Veteran-oak,
In awe of His strength—
Here was a solid spirit!
Sympathy you get from Willow,
But stiff upper-lip from old soldiers,
With forged bark —
His limbs flexed, cut, rippled against the wind…
No chinks in this warrior-wood…
“Divide and Conquer!”

Then I thought of my Father—
A cook at the end of the war—The Big One!
You know the One I mean, as if there are small ones—
When the commanders were through eating
He was instructed to toss the leftovers
From the belch of plates—
Trashcans were in the alley,
The steel that seems intrinsic to battles
In one form or another—
The hungry German children
Would sneak pass the guards
And line-up;
My father would sneak pass his superiors
And his honor
To dispense carefully wrapped scraps…
Well, soon the line was out into the street
As my father was compelled to seek food
From wherever he could steal, beg or barter
To procure—This brought attention—the cat-out-of-the-bag,
And all hell down on my father,
As the captain screamed: Gus, these are the enemy (the children in the alley),
What in God’s Name are you doing?
He was forced to stop—no Court Marshal though…

I looked up again at the old oak,
Through the snarled branches
Deep into the staunch soldier,
Where I spied a nest
In a small, compact fork—
Having a canopy of extra leaves
For shade and shelter from the wind—
I smiled—hum…
His bark reddened, but like my father, no apology from this weathered soldier…

Premium Member An Alien Observation of Cell Phone Use

A Martian spy from the earth fled
and to his superiors said,
“Although no one is near,
they still talk hand to ear.
Too much oxygen’s gone to their head.”

For Carolyn Devnoshire's contest: Out of this world limericks

Creatures Great and Small

CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL

Of all creatures great and small
Insects are most assiduous folk of all 
They perform assigned duties each day
And let nothing dissuade them on their way
The till the soil and collect the forage
Their labor brings them food, some for storage 
Their diligent spirits have no equaled pace
Mostly repulsed  by a higher stationed  race
Human beings became  Self appointed  superiors 
But without these small beasts humans would be their inferiors


Worthless Pawns

The faded shacks stretch 'neath the stained grey sky,
As stagnant urine and disease creep in.
Hunched at the pyramid's tight base we lie;
Looked down upon by our superiors.

In this poor life we’ve been condemned to die;
Forever stuck in our unwanted caste!
Our tummies are filled with what can’t be sold,
Our hopes and dreams just playful fantasies.

Drained from its soothing warmth, the Earth feels cold.
Where, I ask you are the democracies
That stop worthless things like me getting sold?
We’re all just pawns, broken by society.

Unlike the wealthy, we’re easy to find;
We are the untouchables of mankind.


4/3/2015
© Erica Rose  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Seven Colors Of The Rainbow

Seven colors of the rainbow
Each crowned with a gift
A lifetime gift in each line of the rainbow

The World was once in total darkness without a gift
Beauty of nature the World has never felt or seen
Earth as one world asked for a gift

God of heavens said that beauty can be seen
Until all creatures thought of praying
Praying by kneeling no one has ever seen

Humans are but one product of belief in praying
That all creations must be ruled by superiors of giving
Superiors in human form, striving and praying

All creations harmonized in sharing and giving
Making everything simple, in thinking and surviving
Rainbow as one creation and gift, in seven days of bright light and whole-hearted art of giving.

The Honor of Service...

A pride defind by a history edged in stone. 

An honor that expounds and exudes ones on 

selfish needs and sets a standard to be 

followed by all. We have all been 

given the blessing of our mothers and fathers to serve, 

they have unselfishly surrendered their faith in our 

mission and our superiors to lead us to victory. 

We serve with a pride undefind and 

yet true. We honor those who came before us, 

by not allowing the needs of one to dominate 

the needs of the common goal. We set that 

goal as a cohesive unit bound by words that 

many may never hear. 

Together we have forged a path united as one. 

We honor God and our country as we proudly serve 

in the United States Marine Corps... Pride, honor and 

respect until the day we die... Whoorah!


Memories Are Immortal

We are all equal, though they say you lad
who do they think they are they're not my dad,
on battle fields we live or die the same
fight for king and country that's why we came
being just fifteen makes no difference 
able to shoot and fight only makes sense,
hungry, cold, lousy, I write a letter
to my mother, try not to upset her,
I do not record horror of warfare
or how my superiors do not care,
fix bayonets, our Sergeant yelled out loud
heard a whistle blow so followed the crowd,
those big tough men dropped down lifeless, like flies
sounds so loud though can not drown out their cries,
then shell carrying my number 7
sending me from this hell straight to heaven,
to the memorial now mother goes 
to read my name, so much sorrow she shows,
she now knows the truth warfare is awful
Don't forget memories are immortal.

24/02/2017.
© Roy Pett  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A True American Hero

A REAL AMERICAN HERO

William Calley went to war
His country to defend
He came under a vicious attack
Endangering the lives of his men

In a village manned by Viet Cong
Protected by women and children
He made the decision to open fire
Though he felt it wrong

When the fire fight was finally over
Many women and children lay dead
The Viet Cong were taken prisoner
The lieutenant was filled with dread

His superiors caved to the media
And a court martial soon ensued
The lieutenant was sent to prison
Based on erroneous news

The 'innocent' women and children
Were the horrible tragedy of war
But their fear of death from the Viet Cong
Was overwhelming to them by far

Was Lieutenant Calley's decision wrong
In war, I say not so
However, he was sent to prison
And dealt a political blow

I pray that his superiors
Saw the error of their ways
And the media will one day learn
To report the truth without any bias

May those who died in all wars past
Be remembered as true heroes
And their honor will forever last
Not the memory of their foes

And no more court martials
To cover up political lies
Heaped on an American hero
While his faithful battalion dies
Curtis Moorman
Memorial Day 2014

Dear Block Poet

Dear blockpoet 
      I think you got me confused with someone that cares,   It's lovely how you enjoy accusing anyone who is not in your corner. I hope the cow suit helps your self esteem. I did not deserve the harassing letters, you and your lady friend sent. I speak to whomever I want on this site.   No one voices me, but my mother you are a dirty casino, with no payout at all.   I will not let you bully me the same way you do others. Thank you for sending your patheticness through the mail. I'm a young adult, and still found myself violated by you.
You are very disgusting, I'm not as naive as you think I am. 
Mr. You messed with the wrong 18 year old.  Next time you want to bully little girls, think twice.  I have a father, a mother. I sent the threatening soupmail to the superiors of this site.   Nothing I said to anyone on your blog was offensive. Does it help blocking the poets who stood up for others. I left a good comment, about the woman you constantly enjoy bullying. 

  To answer your question.  Your blog was highly recommended. I never did a thing to you, I hope you feel better and sleep well at night knowing you just bullied this 18 year old. 

Belly
100% Chica pride
© Belly Bell  Create an image from this poem.

An Alien Reports Human Contact

An Alien Reports Human Contact

By Elton Camp

A UFO pilot informs his superiors

The planet with bipedal life forms teems
Their lives depend on an object, it seems

Which, in their possession, they keep
Except at the times when they sleep

As soon as they begin to rove around
It will emit a strange electronic sound

To their ear opening they will press
In speech sounds began to address

Although it might seem rather odd
It may be how they worship their god

They talk a bit and then there’s a break
Perhaps from their god instructions take

A signal, the life forms needn’t wait
But communication can also initiate

They enter numbers and press Send
Once more, their worship may begin

A planet with intelligence so low
Is no place that our race should go

To come here, no profit can bring
From them we can’t learn a thing
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Felix Seely: a Spoon River Poem

Now there are special classes for those like me--
                    "special-needs" people. That sounds so much  
	            kinder than the harsh terms in use when I was
	            alive: "retarded," "not bright." The people in
	            my little Southern hometown seemed to think
	            such descriptions were acceptable if they were
	            accompanied by "Bless his heart!" 	           
                    Oh, they didn't think I heard, but I did.
                    Most "normal" people in town really loved me;
                    others simply couldn't hide their pity.
                    While those around me went to school and college,
                    played their sports, married, had families, and 
	            went to work, I learned from them, my family, and the
	            town. As I loved the Lord and people, laughed, lived,
                    and grew wise in my own way, I observed some who
	            lived good lives--busy, but not too busy to care and
	            listen. From my sheltered spot, I watched others
                    as they multi-tasked, made money, got promotions,
                    built big houses, and drove expensive cars,
                    but never really listened to anyone except superiors,
 	            who demanded their allegiance. These people
                    failed to care until they couldn't care.

	            Pity "normal" folks with hardened hearts, unseeing eyes, 
	            and unhearing ears--the ones who pity those like me.


entered in Skat A's Premiere Contest Number 13 on September 24, 2016

Brave Soldiers

Brave Soldiers 
We all like soldiers, if not brutal enemy soldiers, only ours,
they defend our country keep it safe even if they fight wars 
little to do with defends but more to do with securing oil
fields and other minerals. Everyone in politics like soldiers 
even if they don´t know any since soldiers are usually from
poor and deprived background. TV reporters too get misty 
eyed when talking about our incredible brave boys.
Some soldiers behave badly, shooting wounded men, as in 
Fallujah, and peeing on corpses of people they have shot;
and some leave the camp at night, go out and civilians, for 
the pleasure of it.  On the whole soldiers are nice people who 
believe lies they are told by superiors. Problems start when 
soldiers are demobbed-finding a job, and missing the intense 
*****erotic camaraderie makes them dysfunctional in normal 
family settings. Divorce, and alcohol do the rest, end up sleeping 
under bridges. Yes, our soldiers are brave and a bit dense, can´t 
hack it in civilian life and some end up shooting themselves.

Premium Member The Supervisor

I'm in charge of everything.
It's my responsibility,
To keep control of everything,
Maintaining the tranquility,

Of everything and everyone,
And see that all runs well;
For this workplace is my domain,
I watch the rise and swell,

Of all the comp'ny's status quo,
And employee relations,
Making sure that everyone,
Is mindful of their station.

My shift will be the perfect one,
And if not heads will roll.
I want to see a perfect score,
When tallying day's toll.

The boss must know it's not just that,
I'm so dependable,
I'm more than just a pretty face,
I'm indispensable.

The boss must see that I'm the one,
Who runs things by and large;
A well oiled machine is this,
Because I am in charge.

                                   Judy Ball

Sometimes in an effort to do a good job and gain the respect of our superiors we tend to forget what's really important. While it's iimportant to do your job to the best of your ability we must remember that the mark of a good leader is the ability to shoulder authority without growing muscles in your head.  ;p
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Scared

Scared
   by Odin Roark

Fear saved the fly
The spider wept

Fear kept men alive
While Napalm paved the way

Fear keeps the 1% insulated
Handlers and mental bodyguards 
At their beckon call

The mongrel on Manhattan’s frozen streets
Knows well the virtue of fear

Yet

Never will we see our species
Handle being scared like an animal

Where the lesser evolution will defend
We the sentient superiors will think only offense

How beautiful 
How heart wrenching0
The defense elephants
Rhinos
Big cats
Exert to protect only that
Which is their province
Their instinctual responsibility
Wanting not to harm the perp
But only to ward off the aggression
Escape to safer surroundings.

Why does man feel he must instigate aggression
To justify his superiority?
Why do we continue our behavior
Moving science
Technology
Mind set
Ever closer to android resolve?

Might we be so complacently satisfied
We ignore the advances of AI?
Are we really so consumed with the media clap trap
We’re becoming more and more ignorant of information
Vet proof stats that tell us 
Wake up

And yet

To sit in a quiet attic
Observe the simple
Yet perfectly designed survival
Instinct of the spider
Is to become aware

It’s all about living in harmony
Not acrimony

Wait patient spider
What you need for another day of survival
Is but waiting

Love nature
Or perish
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

The Rejected Baby

It was my moral duty to operate and in many people's eyes, I was admired.
I did what needed to be done and because of that, I was fired.
Four years ago, a baby was born with Down Syndrome and he had a heart defect.
Because of his mental impairment, he was a baby who his parents chose to reject.
I told the parents that without an operation, their baby would die.
They told me not to operate and sadly, I understood the reason why.
They wanted him to die because of his Down Syndrome and some others and I protested.
The parents were taken to court but the judge agreed with what the parents requested.
Even though that damn judge upheld the parents decision, I operated anyway.
I saved that baby's life but my superiors were outraged and decided to make me pay.
I was fired but because of public outcry, they said that I would be reinstated.
I told them to go jump off a cliff, I wouldn't work for a hospital that I hated.
I was fired because of my moral scruples but I had the last laugh.
Now I work at a better hospital and I've become the Chief of Staff.

(This poem was inspired by a movie.)

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