Best Unseat Poems


Premium Member Ode To a Shrink


My thinking was clear -till I met you last year
I was happy in my state of confusion.
But you couldn't bear it -you had to repair it
You offered my thinking transfusion.

When your intent -that's the meaning you meant
Is lost in a rush of rambling.
I think that I kinow -though your face doesn't show
It's those thoughts you're intent on unscrambling.

Oh my brain tries to jog -but my thinking is clogged
Were those meetings only to beat me?
For it's hard I confess -to answer my best
When you're doing you're all to unseat me.

When I lose your expression -in counseling session
I'll admit your conclusions elude me.
My mind's so confused -with those terms that you used
I think that it's time to exclude me.

There's no way I'll make it -I can't even fake it
My thinking I fear now is sour.
Shrinks are the blame -they all are the same
Seeing patients for only one hour.

You can take all the credit -your money and bet it
My reasoning powers are blown.
Yes- if ignorance is bliss -I can promise you this
No more thinking I'll do on my own.

I thank you -(I think)- you're a pretty good shrink,
And I hope you can grin now and bear it.
But I'm hiding my brain -and from thinking refrain,
I am on the wagon - I swear it!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Virgin America

The faintness of flight overwhelms me
boxed in caged, corseted, in a cattle car of the air
pristine bells and whistles cajole the herd
as the breath is cycled and recycled through the 
bellows of plasticine and metal
germs jumping from orifice to orifice
knees crushing bosoms braced for the portent
the potential
the promise
of the fall.

Faintness elicits only minor response
from the tenders who un-tenderly steer the crowd
small moans garner memories of the mallet falls..
but fail to unseat the kindness 
so needed..sought
watery eyes wave
 and the floor seems the only safety
and still the settlers stay settled in their complacency..
neither rising to gift an aged woman with their perch
or commenting as she hits the floor
ah the joys of twenty first century flight
in the belly of Virgin America.

Premium Member Black Pearl Pirate Ship Versus Hurricane Bertha

Black Pearl Pirate Ship versus Hurricane Bertha
August 9th 2014.

Liverpool was a mighty port
New Brighton stood by Perch Rock Fort
The Black Pearl sat on Wirral sands and stone
And against Hurricane Bertha stood alone
Bertha howled and shrieked anew
A massive wind that blew and blew
Waves and tides lashed at Black Pearl 
But could not unseat this ungainly girl
Her wood and flotsam together held 
As the hurricane's fury unfurled
And threw at her all that it had 
But could not wrest Pearl from her pad
Earlier Pearls had sadly succumbed
To other winds and tides and storms
But this Black Pearl finally won
And Wirral's wonder remained undone
Noddy and his motley crew
Had taken precautions and had paid their due
And now as calm is once more restored
Everyone can get on board
Fix her up for all the kids to see
(From 2 years old to seventy)
Form: Narrative


The Peoples Servant

THE PEOPLES SERVANT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS


He was here today promised pie in the sky
But we’ll soon discover its  just another lie
They’ll say anything that to them is a plus
But once they are in they  make fools  of us
They need our vote to get elected
First order of business get re elected


They don’t need our money for the campaign
They get it from those who have something to gain
A freshman representative from any state
May have intentions that to him are great
But when the established seniors get his ear
They’ll guide and instruct and make it clear


That when he needs help or financial aid
He wont qualify til he joins the parade
The parade of voting for unworthy pork
These projects are like eating soup with a fork
The laws they pass affect you and me
But they’re exempt, their perks are free


I question why we continue give foreign aid
To tyrants and despots, makes me afraid
That some of those funds may surely bounce
From the tyrants hands to secret accounts
They pass out flyers at county fairs
After two terms they’ve become millionaires


If things get dull and their attention slips 
They plan exotic  fact finding trips
Those trips would  cost a fortune for you and me
The trips are on us and to them totally free
They come home and host a town meeting
Take a  look at who’s in the front row seating


Peoples servant(2)






But the best of all is a fund raising event
Where the affluent givers use money well spent
Backing a candidate is a system well tested
It yields great returns on the money invested
Once they’re established with one term or two
Hard to unseat them the special interest is glue


These are best described as serial politicians
The facts or a lie is part of their renditions
They support their lives at the public’s expense
Taking firm positions on both sides of the fence
They have little to fear, bullet proof by far
If they get caught with their hand in the cookie jar 


Their own will reject them from left and right
None of them want to be in  the public light
If he is found guilty after numerous trials
You will find his clone fully prepped in the aisles
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Maturity

MATURING

Yesterday, I plunged into a whisper.
The fiery red marquee that blasted my existence disappeared,
Like a B-film star at the Oscars,
And only a faint shadow obscuring its source remained.

Today, I began to climb a mud puddle,
Sweating brown slime and panting organic putridness
Like a Ferrari submerged in flood waters
Needing to be recognized as a treasure hidden by an unnatural disaster.
 
Tomorrow, I will rest on a bucking bronco,
Riding the turbulence with ease and poise
Like a skater glides across smooth, glassy ice
Experienced and unfazed by the bumps that once threatened to unseat me.

April 26,2016


Entered in free verse, judged 5/2

The Grand Old Game

...to Charlie Hebert, my father-in-law,
   with respect and affection


Wind-swept and sun burnt alone on the fairway 
he fusses and frets with his lie; 
he's been here for ever commanding the course, 
ever since you and I were knee high. 

Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes 
for the chance to play just one more round, 
replacing his divots, observing the rules 
and keeping his feet on the ground.

Always nattily dressed he is ready 
to tee up and go for the green; 
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck, 
but he's crafty and wily and mean!

It's the day of the championship and he's all ready 
to teach these young men how it's played; 
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par, 
he'll show them how great shots are made.

On the final hole two men are tied for the lead, 
they are edgy as each eyes the pin; 
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left, 
and Charlie makes par for the win!

CODA

In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score, 
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain, 
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart.
Form: Quatrain


Autumn's Cornucopia

As the window closes on Summer's breeze,
A door opens for Fall's colored leaves...
Crispy sweet apples and plump pumpkin squash,
Solitary scarecrow continues to watch.

Shorter days with longer nights,
Misty fog causes blurry sight.
Green turns into late season brown,
Barren limbs as leaves carpet ground.

Early morning frosted landscape,
Slight slips possible without wearing skates.
Knitted caps with oversized scarves,
Clouded breath leaves trails at large.

Gradual prequel to Winter's ice,
Some preparing hibernation
.....their need to survive.
Before harsh frozen winds begin to unseat,
They enjoy gorging upon Autumnal treats.

Familiarity of seasonal change,
Periodic in it's cyclic arrange.
From mountainous colors with snowy caps,
Nature's creatures fall into relapse....

Thanksgiving turkey and treats of Halloween,
After, Christmas yule tides upon the scene.
The caring and sharing of Nature's bounty,
Cornucopia horn full of plenty...
Form: Pastoral

The Grand Old Game

...to Charlie Hebert, with respect and affection


Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway 
he fusses and frets with his lie; 
he's been here for ever commanding the links 
ever since you and I were knee high. 

Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes 
for the chance to play just one more round, 
replacing his divots, observing the rules 
and keeping his feet on the ground.

Always nattily dressed he is ready 
to tee up and go for the green; 
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck, 
but he's crafty, and wily, and mean!

It's the day of the championship and he is ready 
to teach these young men how it's played; 
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par, 
he will show them how great shots are made.

On the final hole two men are tied for the lead, 
they are edgy as each eyes the pin; 
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left, 
and Charlie makes par for the win!

CODA

In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score, 
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers and to bad lies and to rain, 
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart!
Form: Quatrain

The Grand Old Game

Wind-swept and sun burnt alone on the fairway 


he fusses and frets with his lie; 


he's been here for ever commanding the course, 


ever since you and I were knee high. 





Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes 


for the chance to play just one more round, 


replacing his divots, observing the rules 


and keeping his feet on the ground.





Always nattily dressed he is ready 


to tee up and go for the green; 


the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck, 


but he's crafty and wily and mean!





It's the day of the championship and he's all ready 


to teach these young men how it's played; 


at the turn he's ahead with a three under par, 


he'll show them how great shots are made.





On the final hole two men are tied for the lead, 


they are edgy as each eyes the pin; 


Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left, 


and Charlie makes par for the win!





CODA





In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score, 


he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;


here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain, 


to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart.



Last Modified: September 03, 2015 at 09:06 am
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved 

Author Notes


...to Charles E. Hebert Jr, my father-in-law and patient golf instructor!  May he Rest In Peace.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Courage

Courage

Courage is what you have 
when you have only two choices left. 
One of them to accept fate, 
and the other to cheat it, 
beat it, 
unseat it... 
meet it halfway, 
and then knock it back across the line.
That is to say, 
whatever "it" is. 

Size does not matter, 
when the intent is right and good. 
David was never afraid, 
as the Lord was with him. 
He knew he could defeat the giant, 
it was only a matter of how hard, 
the evil would fall, 
from way up high on its pedestal, 
down to the hard ground, 
where it belonged
to begin with.  

Have courage, 
and pray. 
You will then be, 
never fighting 
alone.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

The Grand Old Game

...to my grandfather, Charlie Hebert,
   with respect and affection  RIP


Wind-swept and sunburnt alone 
on the course he fusses and frets 
with his lie; he's been here for ever 
commanding the links, ever since 
you and I were knee high. 

Golf is his passion, he lives and he 
breathes for the chance to play just 
one more round, replacing his divots, 
observing the rules and keeping 
his feet on the ground.

Always nattily dressed he is ready 
to tee up and go for the green; 
the young guns are anxious to unseat 
old Charlie, but he's crafty 
and wily and mean. 

It's the day of the championship 
and he's all set to teach those young men 
how to play; at the turn he's ahead 
with a three under par, he'll show them 
how great shots are made.

On the final hole two men are tied 
for the lead, they are edgy as each 
eyes the pin; Jim misses his putt, 
it goes wide to the left, and Charlie 
makes par for the win.

In the clubhouse they congratulate
the old boy on his score, he thanks them 
from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, 
to bad lies and to rain, to another shot at glory 
when they climb aboard the cart!
Form: Verse

Speechless!!!

“That dream only needs a speech to bring about the change the world has been waiting for, 
never be speechless no matter what; you have something to say...” 
 Felix Joseph.o



SPEECHLESS!
 
A feeling contends to conquer me
Perhaps, I wanting to defeat it
Indeed, my irritability of the obvious
My contest to make it plain, baffles me
My best try,
 Fry me to cry
Helpless my mouth
It cries echoes is speechless
 
When truth mutates to odium
Falsehood applauded as in a stadium
Avalanche of wrongs
Beaten into a compendium
Corruption celebrated in ovation
Justice, yet foreign in a nation
In reckless abandon,
The games rule is impunity
Flaunting absurd rights as immunity
Shame like a name
Honored as fame
 
Speaking the more
They have colonized the peak
Your audio, print and visual ranting
Concludes you an ant
A pens ink, as tears
Their brick hearts, quickly ignores
What then unlocks their hearts mystery?
Power emitting from the army’s canon?
Perhaps, the pens might
May cause a rethink
Yes a reflection amidst the stink
Confronts all loudly
 
Speechless is the act of the feel
Yet, still I dare to make a speech
A speech for my compatriots
A speech desiring a change
Yes! A speech to propel the speechless
Am speechless, yet not lacking in speech
Speechless is all it makes me feel
A speech can break the chains
Being speechless is not a gain
It germinates pain, like rain
 
Speak and rule the peak
Roar to unseat the freak
Shout and alarm the weak
Sing a tune, their hearts will break
Cry, your tears may cajole compassion

Yes! A speech ushers the change
The villains abhor a change
Truly, a speech moulds them speechless
A speech a world desire
Lacking in speak, all backfire
yet a speech will save the day?

Why speechless?
Just a speech of change will unveil the dream
yes! A dream for real change.
 
 
Author: Felix Joseph Osaeghemede
Chumfin4poem@yahoo.com ;+2348037825027.
 
Written:1-05pm-1-25pm:  10th-06-2008.
Form:

Premium Member We Can Save Us

Our Congress George Washington cannot save
Honest Abe's rolling over in his grave
   So many lies, such deceit
   It's well past time to unseat
Those Law-fakers ~ Hold the fire to their feet
Form: Limerick

The Grand Old Game

...to Charlie Hebert, my father-in-law,
   with respect and affection


Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway 
he fusses and frets with his lie; 
he's been here for ever commanding the course, 
ever since you and I were knee high. 

Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes 
for the chance to play just one more round, 
replacing his divots, observing the rules 
and keeping his feet on the ground.

Always nattily dressed he is ready 
to tee up and go for the green; 
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck, 
but he's crafty and wily and mean!

It's the day of the championship and he's all ready 
to teach these young men how it's played; 
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par, 
he'll show them how great shots are made.

On the final hole two men are tied for the lead, 
they are edgy as each eyes the pin; 
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left, 
and Charlie makes par for the win!

CODA

In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score, 
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain, 
to another shot at glory when they climb aboard the cart!
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Earthquake and Jumping Jenner

'TWAS  4PM yesterday, my daughter called and shouted.
"Did you feel the earthquake, Mom?"
Oddly, I did not, though we live near each other.
Last night there were forty aftershocks.
I felt so cheated somehow and I pouted.

Life must need a spark when a earthquake you must feel!
Perhaps become a man, like Caitlyn Jenner, would be more fun.
Wear lovely dresses and my hair in a man-bun?
Oops, cannot do that either?
The Woke-Parol demanded I may not call it that!!

I have the perfect answer.. Binary-Bun!!
Perfect for summer, as I race for Governor of California.
As my faithful followers, cheer me on!
In this most auspicious, political race.
Come on down, if you can you keep pace!!


                 7/9/2021


Caitlyn Jenner...running to unseat Gavin Newsom, 
Known as "Lockdown  Louie!"
Form: Verse

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