Best Tow The Line Poems
'neath my family tree I found
something green and blue and brown
hatching out beneath my touch
that I love so very much
can you take it home tonight?
feed it soup and hold it tight?
I can't have it ,Heaven knows,
it wants to wear my sister's clothes
and dance around in town all day
and make confections out of clay
put it in a sachel bag
make it march and wave a flag
until it learns it must conform
it's just too different from the norm
and when you make it tow the line,
I'll take it home and make it mine.
Let’s take a ride, how about traveling, to outer space,
Just accept anything’s possible, it’s our cosmic chase,
Moving faster than light speed, in the blink of an eye,
Unleash your imagination, laws of physics, don’t apply,
Maybe stay closer to home, getting carried away,
Not that it’s impossible, Probably better this way,
I bid to free your mind, open up Pandora’s box,
Some controlling egotist, may be keeping locked.
Might think this is fantasy, I promise you not,
Keeps us unrestrained, from an imperious lot,
Rather we’d stay stupid, believe everything’s fine,
Brainwashed all our lives, left to tow the line.
Too many gaslighters, out for personal gain,
Call us troublemakers, having gall, to complain,
I am not preaching, just offering sound advice,
Keep your independence, for life’s full of choice.
Well thank God for google, if needing a little help,
Press a few touchscreens, a tonic within itself.
Always some caveats, beware of computer trolls,
Half decent firewall, should suffice on the whole.
Is too much knowledge, really a dangerous thing,
Worse than owning shotguns, barely aged sixteen,
I agree in some cases, ignorance truly is bliss,
Only if comforting, from the inevitable abyss.
Many poets shone light, on history’s darkest times,
Obscure aficionados, emancipating reality with rhyme,
Fighting nightmarish wars, writing obituaries home,
Bleeding ink upon paper, never flinching in their tone.
Others encapsulate landscape, frozen in winter snow,
How they portray nature, this rhymster will never know,
Beautiful form of art, smashing out from all restraints,
Poets you set me free, lest my tribute is mundane.
By
David Kavanagh
Finding love in play all by design
Working overtime to keep one that is all mine
Magnetic powers not able to tow the line
Letting another love go that fails to define
Why must my life be filled with so much sorrow
I just want the kind of love that last for all my tomorrows
Opening my heart when it always seems to get blown apart
Laying my life out there being honest from the start
Lord is it possible that I may have some broken parts
Or is cupid just shooting blank darts
Can't put my finger on the reasons why
Always looking for the next love to try
Love that will reach out to touch the sky
With a woman who will find no reasons to ever lie
Things like that always seem to break this guy
Believing she is out there eager to fly
Needing this kind of sizzling hot love before I die
Not one where it all means saying goodbye
A real lady who will always look me in the eye's
Not one I will end up having to despise
Believing the right woman is out there
Ready to invest her heart and play fare
Has the ability to show her loving care
Lord, I know you hear my longing prayer's
Send me the right one without so many layers
I will await that special flower
Making sure to water it every day so it will tower
Love soaring through life hour after hour
Sharing the kind of love that will blossom as it flowers
Who Will Water My Plants
I swore by the rare LEO moon -
well lighted above.
That I would never falter
in our marriage of love.
I swore by all that's good and right, that
I would be the perfect wife.
I told myself and a million stars;
It would be best to cover up the scars.
If I were to only tow the line
I could keep the matter
under my mind.
So sure that your temper
would settle down.
When our children be grown and gone
and finally living on their own.
The inner-voice you have inside
I hoped to your GOD
conscience, it would chide.
Awaking yet your virtuous side.
I should had left when
the children had gone,
After that you
barely came home.
ALONE with my wounds,
computer,and plants.
You allowed me no friends,
never filed a complaint
no records were kept.
Under the carpet
my abuse had been swept.
One night he came,
could not find
his good shoes
which he kept
under our bed.
He then,threw a glass,
and it just missed my head.
The fury in his eyes,
said that I was to die.
When the smoke cleared,
it was he that lay dead.
Being alone, I had secured protection
"Who will water my plants if I die"
"I thought "
"I fired a shot in his direction.
I could not reply
When the officer
asked me "WHY"-
I could not explain
the tears and the pain
"Who will water my plants"
was my only cry.
"Who will water my plants "
I did sigh..
Explanation,of no use-
from years of
silencing abuse.
Why I stayed
I never knew.!
Love had ended,ended too soon.
I had promised that Leo moon.
As I had no rant-
All I could say
as they led me away...
Was... "Who will water my plants " ?
"Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet & Watch,"
and everyone laughed, as he pointed
to each location.
Irreverent,
to some,
but in the rhythm,
a silent prayer.
No God could control him;
have him tow the line,
put fear of retribution,
or threaten him to a life
stoking the coals for Beelzebub.
He would give you the shirt off his back.
Comfort those he didn't know and
face death square on,
while laughing it down, to his last breath.
Courage, unending love for mankind, for life,
today, they talk of his character,
his gentle manner, and kind and humorous
heart.
With respect for his decency,
they honor him,
and still laugh at his jokes.
>>>>>>>>>>>>Krista is my beautiful young niece you see,
She lives in a small fishing village down by the sea.
She has a daughter named Kaitlyn, who looks so fine,
Without a doubt, she is one of a kind.
She is as smart as a whip,
With a heart of gold.
She gets along great with her friends,
Not to shy, or not to bold.
Her teachers look forward to having her in class,
She is not like some kids, she completes her tasks.
Her mothers heart swells up with joy,
When she opens her report card, with marks so high.
I know she will grow up a smart young lady,
For she has been this way , ever since she was a baby.
But then she has a great roll model, a helper , a mother,
Maybe one day, a sister, or brother.
But for now though i am sure things are just fine,
Grand pa and Grand ma will help to tow the line.
A rock and a hard place between,
It seemed a limited choice,
But a burning bush he had seen
And lo it was he found his voice.
And though unpopular indeed
With constituents one and all;
Courage enough to take the lead
And for what's right he'd take the fall.
For children dying on the streets,
No longer as a hostage held;
Party politics with the deadbeats,
The lies alas must be dispelled.
For rights of others, yours and mine
To walk in safety come what may;
Never more to tow the line,
He's standing up to the NRA.
A hero of the people yes,
In a filibuster what suspense;
This Republican who god bless
Has finally shown some common sense.
To be. To feel.
To feel, to love,
To love. To rage,
To rage, to die
Like a good Romantic, or to sleep like this,
Ghosting about
Like a loose plastic bag
That flaps on a windy night
Under a sodium street lamp’s
Eerie all-submerging light.
O Shakespeare, pity us,
O Wilkes, O Pope,
O Voltaire, O Heine,
O Byron. O Shelley,
Shed tears for us.
We have mislaid the liberties
You fought for.
And the truths you taught us.
The Board of Standardisation
In the interests of this nation
Will suppress the imagination.
Like ranters at Hyde Park
We’re still good for a Sunday lark.
Our patrons are benign
as long as we are innocuous.
They’ll allow a little room for satire
(as long as we keep our hats on)
Just to show what sports they are.
Toothless protest’s just a cliché,
But don’t let slip a waspish quip,
Or “Sirrah, Sirrah, the whip!”
Tow the line. That’s fine.
“Douse that prophetic fire by nightfall, sir,
Or the neighbours will complain.”
A D-Notice served on the brain
deadens every joy and pan.
Cross the heart with this red pencil
And with this stencil write:
THE END OF ART.”
How divine the way God throws us a safety line
To remind all of mankind
We need to follow behind in his footsteps
To help us define his holy sign
That will help us refine
Gods love that is so divine
Making sure that we understand it's by his design
The scriptures tell us of his son healing the blind
Believing in my mind
IT all comes together so fine
Teaching us how to unwind
What we have wronged in our lifetime
Keeping our souls safe to tow the line
So when God sounds the horn
The ones left behind we won't have to mourn
Free of Satans scorn
That we can be reborn with his sworn truth
Leading us to the promise land
He taught us to understand
God is the king of all man
Who has a grand plan
For all his children to reach the holy land
Where it all began
A place that Satan and all his followers are banned
For going against Gods plan
Satan promising to corrupt as many as he can
Only to abandon us once he has us by the hand
God gives us the strength to go the whole length
Away to be free from satans decay
By teaching us when we pray
He is with us throughout all of our days
Clearing up all that Satan lays in his hellish ways
Giving us a shield so he cannot prey
To take our souls away
To have vanished in a blaze of fire
Listening to an evil liar
So we all need to seal our fate
With Gods holy deal
That heaven is for real
Allowing us to feel Gods love
That he sends all of us from heaven above
His divine presence
That gives us a reference to why we die
When we take flight
To a place where it all comes into sight
where everything will be so bright
All because we followed God into the light
Shhhh whisper
Cause I love your very breath
Your whispers breathes into me
Nothing sweeter not even death
The wisps of it glides over me
Tickling every inch my silken skin
Making me reach out to you
As I try to pull you in
Shhhh let's not speak no more
Let's lay within our embrace
Looking into the eyes I adore
As fingertips trace your face
Let our souls do the talking
Like only they can do
Let your fingers do the walking
I trust in you I know your true
Shhhhh let our bodies mingle
Let's share each other's sighs
How your touch makes me tingle
In such simple hushed replies
Share your essence and I will mine
Let's go in slow motion
As our bodies start to entwine
Sweat feeling like satin lotion
Shhh let ecstasy tow the line
Let our beings articulate
The passions so Devine
Shhh let's stimulate
1st place
STRAND SELECT 7 any form,any theme' Poetry Contest
Sponsor;Brian Strand
Once freedom vanishes down the broader way
And shoulders start to droop, sore backs are sure to pay
Once fingers grip and dig, then lust for a stronger hold
Hearts tend to falter and “ The Titled” become prudish and bold
Weakness welcomes the pride of a wicked, controlling state
Men strive to mask the policies, hiding conditions they already hate
Standing to yield to corruption with a hand that salutes the brow
Risking their future to tow the line, and only if the governor allows
Once it’s over and done, freedom will never again revive
It's like a mean bronco bucking high, many find it hard to ride
Once it’s over and done and a great country looks back on the vote
Memories coveted from another time when people weren’t ordered to cope
Words spoken by the insane yet, passing over with hardly a wink
The trainer repeats his message, the chain breaks at the weakest link
Lies and deceit are sure to wear and unravel like a ball of twine
But the damage is done, all is lost, given over to a reprobate mind
MY LIFE MY BLOODLINE
Finish line...main line so many lines
Yes at last, the Finish line...
Was it only a demarcation line?
Could it turn-out to be an imaginary line?
The would be orator must have been ashamed of his line!
Or he could be a mere duck, a lame duck!
A duckling who ducks and ducks to everyone's delight
Maybe he's full of accomplishments in the world of art
Worst, if he's simply a trash to rusts!
So, he must tow the line
He can be stepping on the line
Or he can be on zigzag or straight line
But he cannot make an alibi...off line
Otherwise, he could be sidelined.
Unless, there's a bank run, just like
In Mutual Bank a bankrupt
A dead end... and a red line!
Gran stands over me whilst I eat my corn
gee, I’ve hated corn since I was born,
but my Grandma says it's good for me
so she’s cooked a huge pile for my tea!
Gold kernels get stuck between my teeth
all my friends laugh at me especially Keith.
He’s lucky he doesn’t have to eat the stuff,
I’m sick of eating corn I’ve truly had enough!
I wish that I could be like all the other boys
I have to tow the line, mustn’t make a noise,
I’ve lived with Grandma since I lost my Ma and Pa
So in all honesty my Grandma’s a real super star!
Image 3 chosen
Realism Art Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
10/4/19
The Man in the Mirror
Don’t you live at your mother’s place?
Are you in the basement or the room upstairs?
Are you still taking a year off from school?
How is that going for you?
How many is that now?
When your mother stops doing your laundry,
will you start to stink?
When she stops making dinner and feeding you?
Will you then be skinny again, as you need to check the mirror?
We were friends. We still are. You need to remember that.
That means I am here to tell you the truth.
I have no reason at all to lie. I have no agenda.
You are on a bad path. That is clearly evident by your lifestyle.
If you are okay with that, fine. Not much more to say.
If you are not…
I am here.
Not to coddle you, but to make you tow the line.
I will not be kind in the manner of which I choose to end your days…
As a bozo clown.
Grab a pad. A pen. Find one! Now!
The key here is a reference point. I am going to give you that.
From there… you will be in free fall until you fly.
Or…
Die.
At the top… write, “pray”.
Now we begin.
A demographic donkey-punch,
Has choked us all, the Credit Crunch.
Percent reduced by 33,
Of Style of life and Luxury.
No more loans, no more lending,
Forced to earn what we’re spending.
Gripped by servile deprivation,
Ripples of the World inflation.
Decadence at its peak,
Necessities once everywhere.
Advent days appear so bleak,
A smile a week will soon be rare.
Destitution for the rich,
Paupers in a flash.
Many opt to eat their guns,
Or instigate the slash.
Some Produce, all consume,
Slaves before we leave the womb.
Walk the walk, tow the line,
Influenza, bird or swine?
Tyrants born from jackals torn,
A nacient Reich shall have its dawn.
Consummation of an era,
Armageddon getting nearer.