Best Twenty Fifth Poems


Premium Member January Twenty-Fifth

January twenty-fifth 
silver locks idle talk with
age comes wisdom an old myth
a dance holding firmly fixed walker 


1/18/2020
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Our Twenty-Fifth Anniversary

Went to Cape Cod for our 25th anniversary
For our 30th went back and got her, must be wary
That's really not nice
But I did have a choice
So we're back together now and still married

Premium Member The Twenty-Fifth Amendment

The Twenty-fifth Amendment
By Franklin Price
9/7/2018

The twenty-fifth amendment 
Has the donkeys on a roll
Impeachment is too difficult
The work would take its toll

The twenty-fifth much faster
It appears that it is so
Can do it with the cabinet
If they think that Trump must go

The New York times has published
An insider's discontent
It's rumored now, they're all unhappy
The twenty-fifth can see he's sent

He should not be the president
Was never meant to be
Let's oust him with the twenty-fifth
Will be gone, you will see

Those who tout this grand amendment
Should read it once or twice
To see  that it's not so easy
The procedure's not so nice

Whether or not successful
The twenty-fifth will have a cost
With no regard for voters' wants and needs
We the people will have lost


Premium Member Twenty-Fifth Mission

This is the crews final flight, their twenty-fifth mission.
"Lord", they pray, "deliver us one last time from this perdition!"
Thank You for Your guiding hand upon the yoke thus far.
We ask for Your protection, nothing this mission to mar!"

They get the green light from the guys in the tower,
Then roar down the runway, engines straining at full power!
Crew place their trust in the Lord and their venerable old queen:
Their durable, faithful, war-weary B-Seventeen!

They climb steadily from their British home station, 
Joining other flights in a protective box-formation.
Gunners on the alert and the bombardier at the ready;
Navigator charting the way, pilot keeping the plane level and steady!

The target is sighted, shot and shell fly as thick as hail.
Over the intercom is heard an anguished cry from the tail!
The gunner is wounded, please God, don't let him die!
Two engines are gone, it's becoming difficult to fly!

Two little buddies, P-Fifty-Ones, close in to escort them home!
Flaps and wheels are lowered, they land smoothly on the drome!
The gunner survived, they thank God for their salvation,
Each full of jubilation, ready for home and joyous celebration!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)

July Twenty Fifth, Ninety Ninety Six

Xxvi+ marriage  anniversary (mine)
recalls first disastrous
date with future missus
approximately waltzing 
matt tilde two dozen
plus years ago

Tex Mex Connection
201 E Walnut Street
North Wales, Pennsylvania, 19454
every entree included beans
maybe refried or otherwise

effectively laid siege
mine delicate constitution
quickly felt bloated
ready to explode
ala Hindenburg Airship

rushed out restaurant
like bat out of hell
twofold purpose accomplished
desperately needed
to eliminate gaseous buildup

airing banal courtesy
yours truly as kapellmeister
aired rendition, viz Die Fledermaus
for sphincter muscle
hence, faster than Usain Bolt

dashed out front door
plus needed to tap MAC
inadequate wallet stash cash
thus, aye hightailed to nearest ATM,
or rather courtesy rectal explosion

blasted lovely gaseous body
analogously, effectively, gravity free
whizzing, whirring, whining balloon
a bit far afield
incidental bank woe

gastrointestinal directive resolved
forced effort taxed derriere
all told alight propulsion
natural gas fueled
lovely bones within flash

far surpassing long held
Guinness Book world's record
Jackass the ripper former
flatulence champion claimed,
nonetheless I safely landed far

from madding crowd
analogous pulling pin
out hand grenade
gluteus maximus burnt to crisp
necessitated immediate diversion

local drug store
purchased preparation H
discreetly patted, palmed, pacified
scorched cheeky bum
suffered first-degree burns

hemorrhoid cream balm
alleviated buttuck blasts fallout
quickly reunited with my gal
slightly concerned about whereabouts
related personal anecdote

tuckus thru remains of
otherwise humdrum hours
concluding asinine antics,
where approximately

half past monkey's ass
driving lass back home
found me exerting effort suppressing
recurring rumblies in domain tumbly.

Posterior script:
the above account
unsolicited plug for satisfied patron
asper jumpstarting behind the times
car rear ring buttuck blaster beastie boy.

Premium Member My Twenty Fifth Christmas

My twenty fifth Christmas arrived with grief.
Snowflakes and anguish transcended belief.

My mother’s fifty sixth year would be her last.
Stage four had arrived, embittered and fast.

Engaging moments were invariably made.
Our last family Christmas was splendidly played.

No sibling rivalry, not one single rift.
I couldn’t have wished for a finer Christmas gift.

There was tinsel and lights, stockings hung with care.
The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air.

Christmas music played; we gave Mom our best.
That year was tops, better than all the rest.

Six weeks later, I watched my mother die.
It’s been twenty-five years, I still hurt and cry.

Merry Christmas Mom, in my heart you will forever stay.
I will always treasure God’s gift that I received on Christmas day.

12/4/21
A Christmas Gift Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor: BJ Legros Kelley


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