Best Swiped Poems
A little bird
Dropped a little turd
Upon my clean windshield
I pushed the button but no fluid did it yield
My wipers swiped and smeared a stripe
And now I'm mad enough to fight
I grabbed a bottle to sprinkle the stain
But the wind took it from me to my disdain
Cursing the bird
With a dirty word
I hear a dreadful sound
I then pull over and receive a fine for throwing litter on the ground
So if a bird drops you a turd and the fluid is all dry
Don't fret don't curse don't even cry
Just pull over and clean the spot
And save yourself alot
I saw a reflection of an angel.
It was rather vague yet so real.
It told me a story of sanctity.
It told me a story of aged maturity.
It was beautiful.
I saw a reflection of an angel.
It was rather vague yet so real.
It held out its pure hand.
Reached for a strand of my weary hair.
Swiftly stroked it back and put it in its rightful place.
It was soothing.
I saw a reflection of an angel.
It was rather vague yet so real.
It took my hand and gently clasped it.
Pulled me up to stand on my feet;
And gently whispered…” this is how you start…”
It was strengthening.
I saw a reflection of an angel
It was rather vague yet so real.
It scooped my hands up in the air.
Slightly forced my head to tilt upward;
And with another whisper said..."This is how you surrender
To a much greater purpose”.
It was heartbreaking.
I saw a reflection of an angel.
It was rather vague yet so real.
It gently wiped away a tear.
Washed it away with warm waters.
Gently swiped my face with a towel of hope.
It was awakening.
I saw a reflection of an angel.
It was rather vague yet so real.
It titled my head towards the mirror.
And gently whispered “this is a story of sanctity…
This is a strand of a life ahead full of exaltation;
A few feet away from healing that inspires;
This is a story of great surrender to pain
And welcoming of inner peace
This is a story of a gentle tear that will forever
Form a river of immersed hope;
It was divine fulfillment.
"It was a mistake", she said.
A tiny life swiped in seconds as
gods creation is rendered a
mere cluster of cells.
Returned back to heaven
hoping the return policy
wouldn't deny.
It was a mistake; a stifled cry
A lifetime of progress,
innovation, and memories down
the drain.
The notorious "what if"
squashed with plan b; no hopes
of a future.
A stifled cry
She could have cured cancer or
delivered world peace.
She could've fed the hungry
and housed the poor.
She could've been a Honors
Harvard medical school
graduate and your pride and
joy.
None are the magical christmas
mornings, first days of school,
or birthdays.
Terminated are the memorable
first steps and momentous
coos calling for "mamma".
No more possibilities. Now a
stifled cry.
"It was a mistake", she said.
A moment of carelessness and
selfishness translates into a life
lost.
Permanent.
Sent back into the arms of god.
An easy way out. A stifled cry.
Not party, but character defines a president
popularity fades quickly
achievements reign longer
Presidents Eisenhower to Reagan
succession of seven World War II veterans
George H.W. Bush the last
Men of service earned respect
brought dignity to the office
true leaders
Family man without scandal
even-tempered fisherman
like Apostles Peter, Andrew, James and John
Clean Air Act
Americans with Disabilities Act
Bush saw as his greatest accomplishments
Approval rating of 91 percent
after winning Desert Storm
admiration proved fleeting
Americans “read his lips”
felt betrayed when taxes were raised
president side-swiped by economic downturn
From Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar,”
“The evil that men do lives on;
the good is oft interred with their bones
so let it be with Caesar…”
so not let it be with George H.W. Bush
remember him kindly
as I always will
*Not for a contest
There is omniscient God
And there is Ultra Sound Lady
And then there is Me
With 24 hours left ahead to wonder.
Two of the three knows my fate.
Cool blue goo swiped across my body
And the nice lady
Pats my bare thigh so intimately so compassionately
With such a sense of genuine comfort
That I wonder if she does that
All day long
With all her pan of patients
Rolled like dough beneath her hands on a dinner table
Or if perhaps we had made a connection
Or if it was just ultra sound code for good luck
Or hang in there
Or was it the first of many explanations beginning with,
“I’m sorry I have to tell you…”
But anyway she said to go ahead and let my breath go
And that it was over for the day.
As if I were her husband
Dressing in front of her
In our morning bedroom
I fastened my buttons and tucked my shirt
Zipped my pants and re-tied my tie
Chatting small talk about anything and everything
But for what was truly in front of us both
Along with fate
For the rest of the day.
Two know the truth
While the other dares not ask.
Being happy is found deep within ourselves...
It can't be bought or found on a empty shelve...
Nor can it be copied or stolen from another smile...
It has to be built from the bottom up with a loving style...
When it comes around hold it tight with respect and care...
It can easily be swiped away from a life not fair...
inspired by P.D.
A cat crept out of hiding
To ambush was she gliding
Toward a mouse, unaware
Whose time he was a-biding
The tiny mouse did sniff the air
His nostrils poking here and there
Pricked his head up in alarm
His radar beeped, 'Better beware. '
Stealthily the cat advanced
The mouse's feet fairly danced
As the cat's paw swiped thin air
The mouse long gone, off he'd pranced
This simple game of cat-and-mouse
You too can play it, in your house
Just make sure that you're the mouse
If you'd like to keep your spouse
I have watched with sorrow,
the tragedy of love turned into a hierarchy of colour.
When a black soul marries white,
it is called progress —
but only by those who still see whiteness as divine.
You, black child,
have been taught to hate your reflection,
to see validation only through pale eyes.
When you love yourself, they call it arrogance.
When you seek their love, they call it ambition.
Such is the madness of a divided world.
On the dating screens of modern Rome,
black faces are swiped away like dust,
while white faces glow with borrowed grace.
Even among your own,
the lighter skin calls itself superior —
a mimicry of old masters and new slaves.
This poison was crafted by hands
that divided God’s image by shade and geography.
They crowned ignorance as civilization.
But love was never meant to serve the market of complexion.
Black blood carries the seed of endurance,
the rhythm that sustains the Earth’s breath.
One day, when the African looks in the mirror
and sees not pain but power,
the world will kneel again — not in worship,
but in respect.
What creeps in space beneath the Elder trees
where time exists unfettered misting shore
that haunts and howls yet never says what for
as unborn twins that rot in garbled seas?
Whose breath turns stale an autumn mystic breeze
then speaks of life remembered ripe with gore,
of lust and death all stemming from a whore
who swiped a card to pay her selfish fees?
When rolling fog turned damp the summer air
while moon-lit skies exposed a mother’s tomb
then infants torn in half made heartfelt pleas
that fell on deafened ears which didn’t care;
The slain that rest now freed from Satan’s womb -
What creeps in space beneath the Elder trees.
(Apologies to any cowboys in Derbyshire)
The telegraph came through, but just in time
before my coach had passed the county line
mah girl wuz all alone and in distress
only one guy could go save her- well, you guessed.
Ah told mah driver “stop! I gotta help her
drop me off- ahm headin' back to Belper!"
"Yo crazy boy! The old guy spluttered forth
there ain't nuthin' but trouble that far north”
His words had barely registered, I'd say
but I was in Duffield, post-haste, half way,
that one horse town of Derby far behind
but only winsome Janet on mah mind.
Time wuz almost out when I rode through
she'd almost given up on me, I knew
as when I burst in through that old front door
and spotted her, alone, on that shop floor
mah old lady there, terrified, no doubt
cryin' "Help me, Lord- mah credit card's maxed out!"
We all know a man does what he's gotta do,
I reached fast for mah wallet and broke through
passed her mah card, and though it be a sin
I'd told her long ago mah chip 'n pin.
She spun real tight and, takin' no more lip
swiped up the card, dang! Shootin' from the hip.
We road into the sunset, purchase done,
and before nightfall, hey- someone had some fun,
Woke up just before dawn, mah eyes still poppin',
so what- who said us guys just don't dig shoppin' ?
Competition- ' Let 'er rip- shoot from the hip 18th March 2015
when i was a silly kid ,
'round the age of 17;
i pulled a trick on gran'ma,
it was really kind'a mean!
while gran'ma was a' snoozin',
like a spy down underneath;
i crept into the bedroom,
& swiped her false teeth!
early the next mornin',
i heard someone fussin';
pots & pans were a' flyin',
as it soon turned into cussin'!
i stepped into the kitchen,
gran'ma was squishin' tomatoes;
she reached beneath the cabinet,
& tossed a bag of potatoes!
stars, moons, & saturn,...
swirled above my head;
gran'ma went on a rampage,
i swore that i was dead!
i raced into my bedroom,
reaching below the bed;
i pulled out a jar of dentures,
to the kitchen i quickly fled!
there stood gran'ma,
madder than the maddest cow;
she smacked me with a wooden spoon,
as i unleashed a screechin'..."OWW!!"
i learned a vital lesson,
it's healthy to keep the peace;
seniors are sweeter than honey,
but never kidnap their teeth!
Do or Die?
I am perplexed
unable to decide
what to do?
Either to spare
a traitor's life
or to kill him
what if the traitor
is my own son
or brother?
I am perplexed
unable to decide
what to do
what to do if the traitor
in concert with his accomplices
gets his hands on my life
what if he kills me
while i indecisively sit
and think
then suddenly comes to my mind
how the great Mughals
dealt with such problems
the gentler Mughal monarchs
would catch their inimical brothers
who were after their lives
so that they could
grab the Throne
and come to power
They would arrest them
and blind them by bringing the fiery glow
of red hot burning rods
opposite their wide open eyes
and then throw them
in dungeons to rot
the other more harsh Mughal Emperors
would fight against such traitors and enemies
and kill them
in the battle grounds
But I am not a Mughal King
nor a kin of the blue blood
yet I am am
in similar situation
in a place where law and justice
bows to the strong
and corrupt
So what should I do?
Kill or get killed
by the greedy enemy
none else but my own
flesh and blood
I am simply perplexed
unable to decide
which course i should
adopt
to save my neck
from imminant risk
of being swiped
while i think.
poor Walter Jacobs, a wretched soul was he
one day he said he had enough, then hung himself from a tree!
the tree was old and brittle, its branches gloomy and dead,
which snapped like a fragile twig, as Walter fell on top of his head!
from the tallest building in town, he decided to make a jump,
he landed on a construction scaffold, which made a loud..."KA-THUMP!!"
he grabbed an old revolver, one that he swiped from his mother,
the bullet passed through his empty skull, one ear and out the other!
he laid across some railroad tracks, silent as an unspeakable mime,
wouldn't you know that train had stopped, just in the nick of time!
a bottle of sleeping pills didn't do the trick!
he barfed like a volcano, they only made him sick!
he drove his car off a bridge, such a stupid plan he hatched,
he walked away unscathed, without a single scratch!
he set himself on fire, but the flames quickly died
all he lost were the hairs on his butt, which badly singed his pride!
one day Walter said to himself,..."life ain't so bad, what the heck!"
just then he tripped over his sleeping cat, and broke his freakin' neck!
a moral behind this writing? i knew you'd quickly ask!
no one said life was easy, each day's a difficult task!
death's beyond the horizon, time passes all too fast,
life's with us for only a moment, slow down and make it last!...
With bolt-cutter they destroyed the gate
And they rammed their way through the door
The ones that dictate the fate
Like those religious wars before
"Please,that's my papa, I love him!"Cried the child
While hugging the leg of the man of doom
The man in bonnet ice-cold wild
Locked the child in the bathroom
"Please sir give him a chance,a chance to change,
Cried the wife, in Jesus name sir, in Jesus name!"
Hugging her husband tight, yet it is strange
That a conscience is incapable of shame
The man with a gun swiped her head sideways instead
To keep her away from harm
Pressed the muzzle to her husband's head
Two shots, and he died in her arms..
*Tokhang- is a current popular slang word in the Phillipines which means killed by a policeman's visit.
We swiped left, then swiped right. Mostly out of curiosity or just to get through another boring night.
I swiped left, you swiped right. It can be that way or the other way around.
I swiped left and you also swiped left. Now we can never meet in person or maybe that’s just our fate.
I swiped right and you also swiped right. I guess we made the right decision, is my assumption precise?
Yeah! So maybe we met on Tinder, but someday I hope to put a ring on your finger.