Best Tally Poems
Tally-ho, the young steeplechase rider cried
As his horse stumbled over the barrier he up and died
The rider went flying
He heard as he lay dying
“Welcome cowboy” he heard a voice from the other side
© Jack Ellison 2015
THE CRIPPLED
Walking toward foreshore
I saw the devil seated on a fence
Fishing
Next day I heard he got a thrashing
It was intense
Blood trickled from his core
He would fish no more
Baby and Mommy shark were out to score.
*
Toll and Tally Taken On Valley
What Trump did was to dilly dally,
When he had been at the big rally;
Those supported,
Were all shorted;
Tossed trash took its toll and tally.
Jim Horn
Crossbones and arches
Need cats and axes
In a governmental brass taxes
I circumcised the heads state of those
Who pick up the pieces off the sofas spanning too much for their sodas Bicarbonate
This is my rally as I tally
I count all the joy
I play with all the toys
This is for me and all my boys
Sounds of the band playing on and on and on
I regenerate there's a star in my eye
The skies falling and to my surprise
As I am crying supersonic Bionic browser
Dilated people
This is my rally as tally
I count all the joy I play with all the toys
This is for me and all my boys
I counted up the cost, I am the boss
Sounds of my band playing on
Jolly Ranchers, Hershey's Kisses
Faith move mountains so delicious
Governmental diversion I can't hear for the noise sounds
Of my band playing on
This is my rally as I tally
I count all the joys
I play with all the toys
I regenerate there's a star in my eye from painting ceilings
Drippings falling onto my head
The sky is falling to my surprise and as I lay in bed
I Rise supersonic bionic browsers computerized dilated people this is my
My Rally, I Tally
3/24/14
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©2014
Arranged music by Jonathan Echtinaw
Of poem soup poems, took a tally
Found this to be right down my alley
When I had read poem every time
Was similar to mine and did rhyme
Dashdashdashdotdotdotdashdashdash
Which is S-O-S and hate to be brash
I'd rather be smart and never dumber
There is Morse code for each number.
Read poem and it seemed to signify
Care for things or we soon will die
After allowing our attempts to fail
Air is bad and no longer can inhale.
Response to poem of the day on
October 26th, 2014. Also, noticed that
nothing religious has ever been poem
of day or week.
2 + 2 - 4 = Freedom
(Dreamsleep: April, 2021)
tally of real rally
had been vacated in valley
submerged by sally
(evaporated in valley)
(a vagrant ((virgin)) in valley)
(very variable vaunting veracity vibrantly voiced in valley)
(got eaten in gally)
(took God for granted in galley)
(has a lot of gall by gully)
(murdered in Mali)
(was sort of smelly)
(would have big belly when in valley
blood of poem runs thin
were great after they had been
famous and free from sin voiced
what I have believed
a great Horn poem you received
now I am relieved
latest and greatest
read Horn Haiku would suggest
have won a contest
he had been haughty
should see her beautiful body
news would be naughty
when we persevere
have a great happy new year
wish you had been here
incorrectly would do steer
my bad news will appear
car was not in gear
Do have a horrendous Horn Haiku
humorous numerous happy day on
display while I will plan to play and
start to pray
The Taliban all took a test
To see who would govern the best
If Win, Place or Show
Muhammad will know
Exactly which ones to arrest
Our morticians are thanking their god
For a year where they all earned a wad
Though some were burnt
Many more weren't
Still, their best work lies under the sod!
2 + 2 – 4 = Freedom
Black + White – Gray = Vision
He + She – Them = Anguish
Yes + No – Doubt = Prescience
(Dreamsleep: April, 2021)
Another day in paradise; where all the ladies sing;
With their honey tasting ruby lips; and their garments that do cling.
And Jimmy sings of unknown soldiers; to the timed and the weak;
And Edgar speaks his darkest lines; on a mountain of Twin Peaks.
A tiny little field mouse; gathers scattered crumbs;
Then takes it to its nesting place; where mothers never done.
And the blue jay takes his shinny things; the ones he likes the best;
And it turns to watch the night come round; as the sun sets in the west.
As we live here in our cavern’s where fires the only light;
It casts its shadow on the wall; and we deem that to be right.
No one ever climbs the ladder; that could take them to the sun;
Where the clarity of light it brings; could be a freedom when we’re done.
And in the master chambers; on a bed with satin sheets;
The lady with her chains and whips; will help you feel complete.
Living in the darkness; where the only light is fire;
Burns away our better parts; that will turn into a mire.
And it’s another day in paradise; and the summer does its thing;
And such a lovely day it is; when you hear the song birds sing
was an incredible parable
which made life bearable.
when we were down in valley
heavy toll had taken a tally
White stone for favor, black stone for guilt,
It is the bedrock of choice upon which we have built.
In fifth-century Athens, the citizens came,
To cast down their pebbles and enter the game.
In Athens they voted with clay or with beans,
By filling up jars to decide what it means.
Though "spilling the beans" is a myth we mistake,
The secrets of voters were heavy to break.
Middle Ages saw Venice adopt the same art,
To pick state officials and set them apart.
The ballotta of Venice, a ball small and round,
Is where our modern word "ballot" was found.
Borne over the waves to a new western shore,
The custom found life behind liberty's door.
Then nineteenth-century fellowships grew,
Where Masons and clubs chose new members they knew.
A box with an opening, hidden from sight,
Concealed every hand in the dark of the night.
A single black marble, a single dark choice,
Could completely silence a candidate's voice.
Anonymous judgment, entirely erased,
Left hopeful applicants banned and disgraced.
And so "blackballed" lingered, a phrase from the past,
Whenever a person is shunned or outcast.
Now ballots by millions are dropped in the mail,
A modern adjustment on history's scale.
Yet shadows of doubt over custody rise,
Of unverified hands and of fraudulent eyes;
As paper drifts far from the traditional booth,
We struggle to balance convenience and truth.
From stones in an urn to the clubs of old fame;
A tiny dark pebble gave exile its name.
Unkind thoughts and deeds tallied
Demerit points implicitly accrued throughout a lifetime
Belated guilt at heaven’s gate
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
It hurts to say goodbye
It’s never easy to leave someone behind
~ Another notch to my heart
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025