Best Tell On Poems
A nubile young vicar named Jude
Was seen swimming, totally nude
The bishop said WOW
Just look at you now
Your assets - they need to be viewed!
Fiction write!
07-05-17
Invited him home for a drink
A toast as their glasses did clink
Robes down on the floor
Performing a chore...
How far will this story now sink.
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
The vicar bent over to pray
The bishop could not look away
So for his protection
Took up a collection
A robe now conceals his display
WRITTEN BY CHRIS GREEN
I think this story about being nude will sink low
I will tell on those guys, all I know
Those two men are not holy
The bishop's roly-poly
And the vicar used to be in a nude girly show
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
The bishop was feeling romantic
The vicar thought the man pedantic
When the vicar turned around
To give the bishop a frown
The bishop gasped, "Lord, you're gigantic!"
WRITTEN DALE GREGORY COZART
Said Jude, will we both go to hell-
Said bishop, you never can tell
But please will you turn
I've got carpet burn
And my knees are beginning to swell
WRITTEN BY GARY SMITH
As the bishop continued to stare
He thought such a body's not fair
To see the nude vicar
was hard on his ticker
and soon he had to change underwear
WRITTEN BY ROGER ADAMS
Mother Teresa told me so
In the heaven we’ll dance too slow
If you want to come
Bring us some Rum
Otherwise you may stop and go
WRITTEN BY PASHANG SALEHI
btw... What would the Pontiff say?
Would there be hell to pay?
Or would the Pope
just drop the soap
and hope he'd be invited to play
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
When suddenly a knock at the door
they decided they'd rather ignore
in walked the pope,
joined in the group grope
next day they were all saddle sore
WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER
The pope thought it not at all freakly
when asking the other men meekly
that if they were game
and would do the same
they could set up appointments weekly
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Jude's assets developed so well
As the bishop could obviously tell
But you might be surprised
How it grew to that size
Well, he used it to ring the church bell
WRITTEN BY RAY GRIDLEY
07-06-17
Categories:
tell on, body, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
On my heart, a winter swathed
palm
Her spring flowers only right for
When chill itself dons out windblown—
Attached there by my faithful arm.
Green there and here tell on you soft,
Your story's places in the snow—
While meek flakes sleep on my
breastbone—
From your heart, I shake only warmth.
The spring's time to melt frozen gauze,
My whisper in the landing seen
On ice's shine to you,
magical
The winter sun— winter's end be,
When the looking snow further falls—
Our intercession, heart-to-heart.
Categories:
tell on, beautiful, blessing, god, inspiration,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
I remember the good old days
When I was young and wild
With surging passion free;
Now I surrender the old ways,
Retreat to something mild
Stride with sure breath heavy;
Worry was not my sorry play
Yet time flies swift dear child
For fate cannot delay.
Once upon a time long ago,
I ventured boldly far
To find clear destiny;
Today my bones groan and creak slow
An aged and weary star
In struggling mutiny;
Sorry longings fumble to flow,
Passage in broken jar,
Glimpse apt eternity.
My mirror image speaks plainly,
Truth can be so profound
To simply tell on me;
The journey here strings memories
For pictures come around
To show what used to be;
My friend, remember this story:
Beware of fate that grounds
Our common destiny!
The ancient wise men lived bravely
Life's vistas with fond smiles
In true humility;
Pay heed to deeper harmony,
Anchor purpose and style,
Live beyond tragedy;
Let dreams embrace your history,
Make your days here worthwhile,
Dance with life's mysteries.
Leon Enriquez
29 July 2014
Singapore
Categories:
tell on, change,
Form:
Ode
[Poem read at Sekoto’s inhumation ceremony at the Neuilly-sur-Marne-93 Cemetery, near Paris. Channel 4 in London recorded the reading as they did the funeral rites in the presence of his close relatives come from afar for the nonce and based their documentary - as far as I can tell - on my lead cover article on the South African self-taught painter and musician Gérard SEKOTO, published in The Journal of Comparative Poietics, Vol. 2 (Paris), 1993. Both the article and the poem were re-published in my book on “poietics/la poïétique”, entitled: Poietics: Disquisitions on the Art of Creation. Allahabad: Cyberwit.net, 2008, 214p. There ensued a general scramble for his canvasses at the Maison des Artistes where he was lodged in his declining years, and even the sketches he gave me for publication disappeared from my studio.]
III
Long are the years you have lain your easel down
Longer still the sun at Botshebelo burnishing your skin
In the soft autumnal retreat of your heart
You could still hear children playing in the mission station
You saw with what glee they jigged in Sophiatown
And bled for your brothers enchained in District Six
Away in the quiet slumber of a land you loved
You wrought the blazing colours of a secret rage
of man's will thriving in his limbs
of an enduring passion for hope
in the dance of stoic joyousness
in the embrace of a Mandela
Not a shaft of light escaped your hunt for
traces of your childhood
nor
were lost the spare airs that filtered through shanty-towns
Your world was a world of people
simple people
going about their chores with premeditated caution
oppressed people
endowed by need with the guile for survival
People for whom you lived
People who live on in your veins
uninterred in your carved canvasses
(Poem read by the author at Sekoto's funeral in Neuilly-sur-Marne, France)
(c) T. Wignesan, Paris - 1993. (Pub. in the Journal of Comparative Poietics , Vol. 2 & 3 (Paris), 1993 & in Poietics: Disquisitions on the Art of Creation. Allahabad: Cyberwit.Net, 2008.)
Categories:
tell on, friendship, world,
Form:
Elegy
*This is another somewhat dark poem. I share my truth on this site because it helps me cope to write it out in poetry. I’ll shift to lighter things after this. This is my truth currently as I am working through bouts of P.T.S.D. God bless you.
Suffer the Night
By: Meghan C. Hutchings
One teardrop falls heavily, my optic release
A nightly reminder of my loss of peace…
I write down these words to offer me hope
Support from kind hearts and freedom to cope…
‘Twas not long ago, I shadowed a queen
Décor adorned walls, a sight to be seen…
A dream place to rent, a job from my room
A view from the top, no omens of doom…
Gradually, oxygen bled out and I cried
My asthma flared badly, gasping…I tried…
Cloudy, my home filled with second-hand pot
The origin unknown, I yelled out a lot…
I slept on my balcony, a queen nevermore
I begged the office, police, no one cared to explore…
To tell on another, to the weak is a crime
No names did I give; I’d still serve my time…
Banging on walls, picking my door lock, I heard
Frozen in terror, more threats came in words…
Chunks thrown at my windows, three stories high
Grateful my screen saved a hit in the eye…
I knew at that point I had to get out
I shuddered at nothing; the wind made me shout…
Noises and banging, voices all night
Smoke and my doorknob heightened my fright…
After I moved, I thought I’d find peace
Honestly, though, my fears didn’t cease…
To this very date, when darkness paints light
I tremble, hear voices, then suffer the night…
Categories:
tell on, anxiety, bullying, conflict, dark,
Form:
Couplet
(This is a fictional poem but this really does happen.)
You touched me down there and I'm going to tell Mom and Dad.
Don't touch me there again because I know that it's bad.
You touched me down there and that was wrong.
When I tell my parents, you won't be my nanny for very long.
I'm only an eight year old boy, why do you treat me this way?
You touched me down there and when I tell on you, you're going to pay.
Categories:
tell on, angst, childhood, sad, me,
Form:
When I was young, I had a great disdain
for Campell's nasty soup named Alphabet.
One Saturday it was our mother's threat
we had to eat it up or home remain
and miss the matinee. How inhumane!
Mom left the room; I never will forget
the thing which I'd repeat without regret -
I took that slop and tossed it down the drain!
When Mom returned, I'd "downed" all of my soup.
Again she left; Mel went to dump HER meal
and at the sink got caught. Poor nincompoop!
She missed "Red Riding Hood" while I, the heel,
went out. Our mom was left "out of the loop."
My little sister did not even squeal!
(Some slang words here for my non-native friends:
a "nincompoop" is a foolish person,
"out of the loop" means to never be aware of something
and the last verb "squeal" means to "tell on someone"
I always tried to get away with murder when I was young
and I can't believe my sister missed the movie by not telling
on me! On the other hand, I really enjoyed "Red Riding Hood" heehee)
For Frank H's
A Childhood MEMORY Poetry Contest
Categories:
tell on, family, funny, mom, sister,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
Armadilly Billy the Sling Shot Kidster, was the Sheriff of our town.
When mangy rustlers went into action, he was wont to hunt them down.
‘The Buzzard’ and his surly gang of rustlers of epically, bad renown…
Had picked Texas and other states clean, and were on the move, NOW!
A terrible dust storm, dumped them smack dab, into our piece of territory.
The evil buzzard leader sat, now contemplating, upon the hangman’s tree.
His gang was ready to rustle, as he sat scoping out, many a nefarious deed.
Their base camp was an Old Box canyon, not far, and full of tumbleweeds.
Now, snail rustling’s a crime, so word got out, of where they’d be found.
As they’d gleaned, every single snail, grazing in all the creeks, all around.
The outlaws were expecting soon, to get away quite clean, with them all.
But the sheriff of our town, Billy was steamed, and he was standing tall.
Billy went on the move, and he meant business, if you know, what I mean.
Yep! He’s tough! He’s mean! He’s focused! His eyes were hard and lean!
While ‘The Buzzard’s’ head was bald, eyes cruel, his stance was cold as ice.
In the box canyon they’d be snail kabobs, by sundown, if Billy didn’t strike.
The snails were easy to follow, just had to follow their trail of yucky slime.
With Billy’s trusty stead Jalopy, they were at the boxed canyon by noontime.
Now, No One, and I mean NO ONE, steals, while Billy’s Sheriff in any town.
That no good, low down, Buzzard better watch out, for he’d now been found.
When Billy arrived they were loading snails into a boxcar to ship for Escargot.
The French black market in Quebec would offer a price, beyond compare so…
To bring them buzzards down, Billy’s slingshot clipped each wing and tail.
Without their feathers they couldn’t fly so they couldn’t remotely prevail.
But not without looking each one in the eye, for he was the good guy, after all.
There was neigh a feather left, as they were buzzard bait, way before nightfall.
But who can tell on a buzzard, for they don’t have much to start with, anyway.
Now they were the one’s loaded on a train set to Yuma, to prison all the way.
The moral to my story is that: Crime never EVER pays. Besides…
Snail rustling is just plain dumb! They’re so slow, that it's a pain!
To the music: The Good The Bad and the Ugly.
Categories:
tell on, adventure, fantasy, fun, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
God forbid i ever tell on my friends
God forbid I ever betray my country men
As aesthetic as the gas-mask
Dressed for work, dressed for success
As alien embryos thrive inside glass tubes
101 psychological tactics classified welcome to that classroom
The instructor he's fantastic as unstable as a bait cast
Watch for the hook watch for the backlash
The words clandestine written across the chalkboard
He say's Underline the the two words Cherry Terror, The Masters
A hand raises and he looks right past him
As he has flashbacks of the cold war the whole classroom
Ask him in unity why did they outlaw Shock and Awe
He draws a diagram of the food chain and says life is a cycle
HE ASK THE QUESTION WHAT'S THE 5 BASIC NEEDS TO SUSTAIN HUMAN LIFE?
FOOD , WATER, SHELTER, CLOTHING
DON'T FORGET THE LOVE YOUR MOTHER FAILED TO SHOW YOU]
He hit the nailed on the head repercussions from cowardly acts
And now I wonder why my brother's still missing in action
They camouflage sexual harassment
But in this classroom they call it forced rape
Go back in time, Go back to the Air Forces
Tell me how an alien killed three Airmen
I guess they die the same way i kill em back with my bare-hands
Categories:
tell on, allusion, funny,
Form:
Free verse
Childhood Friends (Boys)
Fishing lines and fishing poles
sinkers, hooks and bobbers.
Maybe someday we will go
when we're not playing cops and robbers.
Cowboy hats and balls and bats
my horse an old broom stick.
Can you see? Come look at me!
I learned a magic trick.
Spit balls shot but I got caught
Tommy points and grins.
You did it too I could tell on you.
I miss my childhood friends.
Make no mistakes we're catching snakes
to play with in the yard.
I didn't cry it ain't no lie
when I got spanked real hard.
Racing trains and playing games
this ain't no place for girls.
Summer sun and carnival fun
we wanna ride the Tilt-a-Whirls.
Our first late night but we're alright
see how the scary movie ends.
Creepy crawlers crept our secrets kept
I miss my childhood friends.
Edwin C Hofert
Categories:
tell on, baseball, best friend, children,
Form:
Rhyme
A weeping willow is alone outside Was it happy I couldn’t decide Its trunk was thick and massively tall But its weeping leaves almost made it look small
It sat in the woods behind my house
Its only company was a small mouse
It seemed to whisper secret truths
About what it had seen through its youth
It’s been around longer than four generations
Being one of the oldest creations
My elders say mind what you do
Because if you don’t it’ll tell on you
It keeps a big watchful eye
On those who mess around and spy
I like to call it my hidden knight
That is as pure as any shinning light
If you sit beneath it you’ll hear its song
Making you feel as if you belong
You can watch its leaves sway
Dancing in its own special way
The day I hear this willow weep
I will feel my pain go down deep For this willow is a big friend of mine Who I hope will always be fine
So now I sit up in my room waiting for it to go dark soon I’m waiting for the sun to break free So I can say hello to the willow tree
written by my twin sister (Phoenix Szentesi) and I
Categories:
tell on, nature, nice,
Form:
Rhyme
In the garden, The Christ did pray
For strength ardent to bear pain's stay.
Gethsemane, the Master kneels
To ask to be with fond appeal.
His close aides lie in heavy sleep;
The Christ now cries in pain so deep.
The soldiers come to seize the king;
Judas now sums betrayal fling.
A kiss laid sound to tell on him;
Jesus is bound with scornful whim.
Then off they go to a mock trial;
Conspire to show with sure denial.
From high priest to Pontius Pilate;
An impromptu in vile charade.
Death sentence flawed in power play
As Roman law primes unjust stay.
Scourged to appease the crowd's frenzy;
The Christ was seized with mad cruelty.
Thirty lashes upon the flesh;
A mocking clash of bloodied mesh.
Crowned with thorns plucked from marine haunts;
Pierced mortal tucked with painful taunts.
Then the mocked king is forced to walk;
Heavy cross stings the burdened stalk.
The route is long with steps uphill;
The Christ bears strong with humble will.
Three times He falls, and feels the whip;
Cruel soldiers all who torments heap.
On and on He bears the wood cross
To death's alley, to sure recourse.
Along the way, The Christ meets those
Who did display the pains and ghost.
Golgotha's space, nails are driven,
The cross is raised in cruel action.
The Son of Man prays for mankind,
To save the damned that evil signs.
Two thousand years have come and gone;
The Christ did peer to times forgone.
Good Friday psalm to each and all,
We must not harm but heed love's call.
Love frames a law: "Who harms, must heal." --
Law without flaw, it's heaven's will.
The way ahead is beyond hate;
Let love break bread as grace now plates.
The Living Christ offers to each
Love's fine reprise: Love each to each.
The message comes to one and all;
Love is the sum of love that calls.
Go deeper still to know and see:
The Christ that wills love and beauty.
Grace sets you free to know your place,
To simply be love's happy face.
Heed this story just to be clear;
Join the lovely way to love's cheer.
Follow your heart and it will show
The steady art that true love knows!
Let love bring light to live and learn;
Let peace bring sight for grace soothes yearn.
Leon Enriquez
18 Apr 2014, (on Good Friday)
Singapore
Categories:
tell on, child, children, good friday,
Form:
Couplet
In these four walls I look, I see
I visualize dreaming in my head
I talk - I hold conversation - I wonder
Somehow I keep my sanity instead
Knowing you listen through these four walls
I hear voices - knowing thus it is true
That these four walls also tell on you
Silently you trespass on my mind
I sit - my eyes wander daydreaming
I am mesmerized by the gaze at my window
I twitch - I stare and still I know
You listen intently to invade my privacy
Knowing in my heart - I am clean
Keeping secrets in my place and my four walls
Does it make you wonder what's in theirs
When they put their ear to this the wall
I stand tall ! I conduct myself well
To go out in society knowing you pry
You seek attention - I strive in perfection
I see this in you - the Norman Rockwell gossip
Spreading my business - ear to ear - lip to lip
In these four walls it is this my home
I sit home at night waiting too for a call
Knowing you are listening through the wall
Can you relate? to your silent listener
Invading your time - I do declare
Your time is spent gazing at the four walls
Listening into me and all my calls
You are my neighbor an this you spy
Into my private life as if to pry
I'm sure you all relate to what we hate
The spy listening in to your own four walls
Knowing all your business and all your personal calls...
Yes indeed the silent listener, I proclaim
Is the worst nightmare problem, yet We stay sane........
Categories:
tell on, life,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
My kids like myself were instructed on how to wash clothes as soon as they were tall enough to reach into the basin without falling in. Parenting 101 calls this the see-saw or teeter-totter effect, whereby toddlers balance themselves on their bellys, feet dangling acrobatically off the washer machine lip scooping damp clothes onto the floor in order to place the articles in a dryer. Many arguments have been made on whether this helps or hinders a child.
I've watched my kids cry and tell on me to their momma. "Daddy won't let me eat or play or whatever (I told them to do) until I clean my room."
I gotta tell you, it's joy unspeakable! Almost to the point of tears falling on the pavement and forming a puddle kinda joy to know I prepared my kids to the best of my ability to overcome struggle and adversity.
I don't know if it's fair to say, but parents back in the day echoed a "don't depend on me, when you can do it yourself type attitude." I think in some ways nurture went to the wayside and that switch made it to our backside. In our attempt to add hugs and kisses while turning down the discipline, we created kids who are accustomed to having it their way. It's a balancing act. Parents try and find that balance, oftentimes, falling well short of the washer machine lip, praying God will clean up our act.
The joy I have is because her light bill is due but is making it work by candlelight. He's struggling to correct his adolescent mistakes. Hustling like a Martin Luther King speech, everyday puttin in work till his dream is lived in. The youngest is taking night classes in order to graduate on time.
Glory be to God. Message has been received. Don't depend on me, when you can do for you.
For times they fell into the washer machine and scuffed their foreheads, I'm genuinely sorry for that, but parenting is a balancing act.
Love is helping even after you're depleted and right when your about to fall in from grabbing a heavy load, they step in and say "Dad, we got this."
Hallelujah with a double amen!
Categories:
tell on, children, parents,
Form:
Prose
Once upon a time,
Their used to be a lucky heaven-heeled ring,
To the fourth finger of a lazy lanky king,
This king said one nice thing,
That in India there is a heart
Drenched in a great art,
Crackled and com-busted in every part,
He doesn’t tell on which ribs it sat.
I got to know, its shadow is courage,
When the worlds encourage!
I got to know, it is in a humanoid soul
Where billions of achievements over role!
This soul is having a dignified model.
It started to rebel.
For a chapter narrating championship,
That would heel the hell and heaven with wisdom's flag
So now make your lips repel and shout loud.
Let your palms attract and clap high
To see the diary of achievements,
Releasing on the eve of the year 2017.
Categories:
tell on, appreciation, mirror, moving on,
Form:
Ode