Best Up For Grabs Poems


Star of the Show

Narrate you own life's story
and tell you own life's tale
Don't leave it up for grabs
or even up for sale!

Write down your own life's story
before the others do
Wading through words and phrases
that aren't remotely true...

Plan out your own life's story
before it's done for you-
and you're stuck acting out a life
that you despise and rue.

Plot out your own life's story
or at least, Act Two (or Three)
Rewrite your script, if needed
to set your spirit free!

Dress yourself with color
costume yourself with care
Create the character you want to be
and strut with catwalk flair!

Design and build your life's stage
or at least, rearrange the props
and play your role with moxie
not caring if it flops...

Create your own life's story
as producer, director, star-
and then kick back & enjoy the show
no matter how bizarre!

Be your own show's critic
ignoring all other reviews
Lavish your life with praise
acknowledging cast and crew.

Become your very own fan club
awaiting each scene of your day
Taking joy in each thoughtful detail
of your glorious, quirky play!

Equality At the Hands of Men

Man so mighty and wise
still has to define this
that another living being's life
has the same value as his 

Boasted, brazened
written in stone
raised above 
these highest places 
where power reigns
crushing down  
in white 
clenched fists
gripping so tightly
to "history" 
squeezing 
draining the meaning 
out of good intention

Those stones are weeping
as grass grows quietly around the edges
The future
chipping
crumbling
forgotten

Differences 
are best listed
to be used like lines in the sand
some seen on the skin
most are though beneath 
tracing 
tearing 
a cross marking
the surface
this land of the free
that the privileged paid for
from sea to sea
with the lives of lesser men
and their women 
up for "grabs"

The women
best when big breasted
beautiful and begging
feeding their daughters
dreams of a better tomorrow
when that white clenched fist 
stops squeezing her ****
before slapping 
lips against her 
drooling over her
in her ear
whispering 
something sweet 
like 
"Honey 
you're mine"

What lines of defense
Those lines lie on paper
written, signed and etched by those
elected and chosen
statesmen stating authority over your body
their dolls
their toys
smiling
serving their purpose
the good Word stenciled in stone

Equality
carved out in flesh
fresh cadavers 
swept under the rug
serving their purpose

Gravestones weeping
as grass grows quiety around the edges
The memory
chipping
crumbling
forgotten

Keeping their hands clean
they wipe their mouths red
blood on their stained sleeves
the polish from their shiny shoes sully 
the stars 
and stripes 
stripped of the value they once held 
when they stiched us all together 
and brought so many strangers home

How white clenched fists
hold power and privelege 
held so high in esteem
like our stars 
and stripes
teetering, unraveling 
the threads shaking 
as if stripped naked 
and forced to wave 
above that Capitol Hill
pivotal 
and still
unchanging
unmoved

Our Lady
liberty 
holds a tattered gown

A P.Ublic D.Isplay of Affection

My challenge was not issued there! My challenge was issued here!
Which was why you threw me off, when, first, you ran in fear.
You, who had the reputation of being the best to play this game,
"destroying" all of your challengers, while gathering all of the fame.
But, maybe all of that fame went too quickly to your head,
As your audience ate up ev'ry word that you had said.
Respect for your battle skills was immediately reserved,
But, now, I have to wonder was all that respect really deserved.
As I stated in my "ODE," this is a game of speed and wits,
Where the strong throw all the punches, and the weak take all the hits;
Where a real poet accepts a challenge, no matter how many dare,
And is always ready to battle anyone, any TIME, ANYWHERE!
The last point, that I just made, is the one that you should read,
Giving it all of the attention, that it really needs.
I decided to step up, but you decided to run and hide.
I guess hiding is much easier, than swallowing your pride.
Ev'ry request that I made to battle was met with an excuse,
Which made me think that you were really trying to dodge all of my abuse.
Are you afraid to get embarrassed, or of losing all the fans,
After proving that you are unable to meet all of my demands.
If so, then you "officially" forfeit your claim to greatness,
Because any such claim, to me, would be considered weightless!
The number one spot is "officially" up for grabs,
So, now, the scientific minds are working in their labs.
"THE DOZENS" is the name of the game that we will play,
So, if you do not have the balls, then please stay out of the way!
But, if you do decide to play, accepting the fact that you just might get pinched,
Make sure you come alone, leaving your "boyfriend" on the bench.
I entertain the crowd, but from the crowd is who you run.
Therefore, your reign at the top is "officially" done!
Now, to more "worthy" opponents my focus has been shifted.
So, turn in your little crown, since you are obviously done with it!


Std

If you want my ex girlfriend, she's up for grabs.
But if you sleep with her, you will get the Crabs.
It's possible that you may get Herpes too.
Sleeping with her is a stupid thing to do.
I caught her in bed with my cousin and I thumped her.
She sleeps with a lot of men, that's why I dumped her.
I'm giving you valuable advice so you'd better listen to me.
If you seduce my ex girlfriend, you are sure to get an STD.

(This is a fictional poem)

Cliche Heaven

Cliche Heaven

Be it as it may I'll try my hand at some clichés
    and address the elephant in the room soon when pigs fly.
It’s a win- win situation, put your game face on, work the crowd
   as we wrap our heads around comparing apples to orange.
We are all data driven, with an ace in the hole, stick a sock in it
   while stepping  up to the plate and  peeling back the onion
 and easily hit it out of the ballpark with a world of hurt.

Be my team player, run with this, my agent of change  
  but don’t throw me under the bus as you think outside the box.
We can touch base later seeing where the rubber meets the road
  and put boots on the ground, a perfect storm, deal with it.
Here’s my two cents,  if it works  I'll go off the beaten path
    driving route 66 on the road not taken when it’s up for grabs,
     and taking a walk in the sun, learning the new math.

That said,  don’t  put me out to pasture,  wait for it,  
  there’s no sign of my slowing down,  its going viral.
These are the signs of the times, take the bull by its horns,
   It’s a brave new tomorrow and all bets are off.
Don’t  force my hand to be up close and personal
  I’m a rebel without a cause and  to die for.
   Don’t get bent out of shape raising the bar in the winds of change
    There’s something for everyone, just another babe in the woods.

Stay tuned, like, duh, as a matter of fact, at the end of the day,  
  it’s a last ditch effort as you live and learn the luck of the draw.  
Pay it forward, that’s the ticket, give and take, get a wake up call,
 same song and dance, say what you will, you’re as sharp as a tack.
It’s all smoke and mirrors, just splitting hairs to reinvent the wheel 
 and walk the red carpet for a quick buck to pay as you go
 Heaven help us, 
I believe there's an app for that.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

Rearview Mirror

Rear view mirror

Objects, objectively put, are  closer  
than they  appear. But it doesn’t say it all. 
With the fair signs that spewed  forth once turning to
a slew of  pre-twitter  pseudo- tweets since.

 I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
 In rhyme scheme:  aab, bb, ccc .

(“  At the wheel 
At night. Uneasy feel. 
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.

Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist, 
Comforting  coolness and sultry night coexist .

Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)

A row of  earthy  images it failed 
rather than showed ,images  with  eerie  
 librations and weary nutations  .Which 
was not  Physics,  but physiognomy of  life.

Like when bashed  by  kiddy badasses  and  
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but  math a behemoth 
all the same, and  guided perfunctorily
 often, and rarely with the right intent.

In  the  peccadilloes- round,  the  Tintern
 Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans 
creativity , but the three trees on 
the low sky  made sense , and then on to  
T.ds. equations and tedious times 
 soured by  sleep and steep sloth.

Ingenious in fair measure , now turning 
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after, 
 in the space of a couple of cusps of 
light and sound   mom was  no more  and we  
whimpered  and  simpered under a dad who cared 
 but did not seem to,  in  his straight-faced  mode

Then  came  falsely  flashing ,  faintly  fuming ,
 slapdash  years of machines and mega hertz,
 eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain 
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.

Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
 ( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);  
 preferring  palm-frond’s loftiness  cum  
deprivation to  urban  up-for-grabs  
benefaction;  and the mess of docs, deaths  
and a mossy crock of living pain since.

And all the dicey way , never  patted 
but  p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed; 
 banked on , debunked ;  short-changed, sort-of-changed ; 
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering  
and if anything  wondering if it’s
 not  all  the mirror’s prim fault 
which never once showed my face.


The Moving Target

I am the eponymous A. Floating-Voter!
I do know my mind, but I’ll follow the pack … 
My vote’s up for sale now, to the highest bidder.
Yes! What was that offer, sir? You at the back?

One fellow offered me ‘less unemployment’;
Another one’s promised a crackdown on Crack.
A third says my kids should get more education!
Now who’s gonna offer me tuppence off tax?

One bloke is standing who’ll never be sitting!
So if he’s elected, he won’t see it through.
He said I could choose ‘Not to be European’.
I thought I did that back in ’72 … 

‘A’ says I’ll have more disposable income;
‘B’ says he’ll build us more roads and such-like. 
If I vote for ‘B’, I’ll have more roads to drive on; 
If I don’t vote for ’A’, then I can’t run a bike! 

All of them claim to be fighting corruption; 
Opening closets; exposing the sin … 
Though naturally, MPs are above suspicion! 
Now, what was this ‘Members’ Expenses’ thing? 

I’m already beginning to feel some confusion.
Which of the parties is really the best?
They all claim the others are nothing but liars …
But none of them passes the ‘truthfulness’ test … 

I really do not have a clue who to vote for!
I’m starting to wonder if I should abstain … 
But ‘Say what you want!’ was my Mum’s favourite motto, 
‘And if you don’t get it, then you can complain!’ 

So, come voting day, I’ll be down at that station.
I’m going to vote, and I’m keeping close tabs …
So go for it, candidates! Try to attract me! 
‘Cause, ‘tween now and then, chaps,
My vote’s up for grabs!

..........................................................................

This is how we tackle elections in Great Britain - not so slick, but lots of fun!

Entered in Dana'lynn Smith's "Politically Educated" contest by Frances King

Premium Member If I Were a Man

If I Were a Man, I'd:
     Never purchase another dress,
     chop the heels off my stilettos,
     burn every pantyhose in the house,
     allow my ears to close their portals,
     and use pinking shears on all the bras.

If I were a man, I’d:
     Place my jewelry up for grabs,
     cart the curlers over to Goodwill,
     paint the town with cosmetics,
     and visit the barber for a buzz cut.

If I were a man, I’d:
     Buy cowboy boots, a straw hat,
     season tickets to baseball,
     and a zero-turn lawnmower.

If I were a man, Id:
     Control the remote at all times,
     commandeer the recliner,
     sit however I please, with perfect ease,
     and change my name from Cona to Chuck. 

If I were a man, I’d:
     Reserve the right; 
	to track mud into the house,
	leave drawers/doors standing open,
	leave clothes/shoes lying where they drop,
	control the money, and always ask, 
		“What’s for dinner?”
© Cona Adams  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Stairway To Nowhere

Up early in the morning and off to the gym
Determined once again to get myself slim
The place is full of tight butts and flat abs
How long I'll last here is still up for grabs
I sweat through weights and cardio stuff
After about 30 minutes I had quite enough
There's one more machine that has my name
The stair-stepper always put me to shame
I climb to no-where, my legs giving out
I hate this sucker-Id almost rather be stout
Once again I leave feeling quite depressed
People love this stuff? oh surely you jest....

Premium Member Technological Breakdown

Technological Breakdown.
.
Has Hi-tech technology
Now gone too far 
That we seem lost without
In this hedonistic instant gratification
Obsessed  days
.
Or were we better without it yesterday
When life was simpler and less complicated
In so many different ways
.
Of course it has made life easier
And communication better still
But I think it's gone too far
We are moving too fast
In a speeding burning car
Without a brake
.
For the good souls it’s a useful tool
But for the evil one’s 
A Devils playground
With souls to take
Leaving devastation
Within it’s corruptive wake
.
Where is the joy today?
For the evil and greedy have taken it away
With ads that invade your home
All the time on social media
And now on your phone
.
The latest must-haves
Up for grabs 
Telling you it’s the most current desirable thing
They just don’t want to take your money
But sell your soul and even take your skin
. 
I used to love to watch old movies
That I enjoyed as a kid on TV
but now they have taken them away
And now charge you a fee
.
Too much choice too much hype
The net gets darker
With so much trolling and so much vice
But serious sin comes with a price
.
Ads that bring pain and sorrow
Invest in a will or funeral plan now
Never mind tomorrow
Brainwashing by marketeers
And greedy investors
Who hound you into submission
Vultures who pick at your bones and pester
.
Endless logins and security
Take the joy 
Out of everything for me
.
Bulling extortion and scamming  
Viruses and jamming
The dark web
And evil sceaming and planning
.
The high cost of technology
Doesn’t just come 
From the latest labeled must-have phone
But the one’s we use every day
That intrude our lives
And our home
.
G5 and too many microwaves
May take us to our early graves
Technology has gone way too far
And soon will have its day.
.
‘’We are just too reliant’’.
,


Peter Dome©2020.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.

Every Chance Available

Every chance available, you take it. 
An opportunity missed is the absence of potential success.
It is not easy to be a success.
It demands hard work and sacrifice. 
”Success is found under the alarm clock.”
It takes effort to look and even more to do.
In life, you cannot miss chances. 
Never pass the opportunity to better yourself. 
Be happy to face challenges and be proud to have milestones. 
They build you up when overcome and better your character. 
It is not wise to complain or to give up. 
Showing weakness to your problems will weaken you. 
Complaining to them will show your immaturity. 
It takes a lot of fight to overcome adversities and even more to keep them in check. 
Seize moments and capture dreams. 
Fly higher than the stars and shine brighter than the sun. 
The universe is up for grabs.

Oscar Night

I’ve seen the Golden Globe awards,
The People’s Choice, the SAG,
Which lets us know, for Oscar night,
Which prize is in the bag.

The only one real obvious,
Consensus is a factor,
Is Lincoln’s star, Day-Lewis,
Who’s a shoo-in for best actor.

The rest are up for grabs, I guess,
With choices to compare;
The question is, at this late date,
If anyone could care.

We’ve watched the actors strut their stuff,
With glamour gowns galore,
Or tuxes, as the case may be,
But it’s been done before.

The Oscars show, once all the rage,
In sequence comes in last.
We’ve heard the speeches, seen the tears
And all that hype has passed.

Of course, I’ll watch the show tonight,
‘Cause that’s what people do;
Though why we care about these things,
I haven’t got a clue.

Premium Member Tell It Like It Is

(aka… A Note To A Cheat)

The birds and the bees are down on their knees
The bunnies and kittens are riddled with fleas
The chocolates are melted the flowers are dead
And Cupid’s gold arrow turned out to be lead

Although you once rendered me all of a flutter
You’ve skewered my soul like a hot knife through butter
So, where do you go to get cozy and tender
While I lay alone with my heart in a blender

I long since discarded my rose-tinted specs
So don’t tell me that it’s not love, only sex
Did we not each promise till death us do part
Is that why you hammered a stake through my heart

Well, not anymore: keep your hearts and your flowers
I’ll fret nevermore when you’re missing for hours
To love and to cherish, remember that lie?
Be sure to remember this truth, “Goodbye.”

                         *

P.S… I’m reclaiming my pride that you took
For you never took… my little black book
                 ________________




[Sorry ladies, I’m not up for grabs… this is all make believe]


30 October 2022
Contest: Tell It Like It Is
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose

Wal-Mart

It is where you shop

everything is up for grabs

time everlasting

low prices are the key there

Sam knew what we all wanted

Long Fork Side One

Said she was Sitting Bulls great, great, great
from Bill Cody's rodeo days in Germany ~
I did see a resemblance ~ pix, side by side!
Germany ~ before and after ~ Nazi's!

Now Monica a left-over immigrant to USA
proud in stature, limping, leg twisted
all alone on a RV campground ~ Winter!
Froze up plumbing, living on hand outs!

Husband in the Secret Service ~ military
murdered in his own bed ~ at home
used to fly to Monica's side ~ helicopter
only week-ends ~ secretive!

A green barret instructor to U. S.
Never found out why ~ no evidence
Monica now  ~ on German pension, 63
last Birthday, celibrated with friend & me!

Each Sunday ~ after church
I picked her up ~ her RV ~ loaded w/cats
Her family ~ pix of German folks
all over ~ flowers ~ stacks of goods!

RV ~ crammed with poop ~ couldn't flush
No one wanted Monica on their premise
The Santee Sioux ~ campground, near Casino
Sitting Bull's relative ~ now stuck!

The Sitting Duck predicators
used to be the Indians ~ hunting, self taught
now educated Internet gamblers & the like
What a revolution of choice!

Local hardware ~ wouldn't help no one
open her frozen lines ~ all Summer
Til now ~ backed up with poop & cats!
Finally Monica OD'd,  a diabetic!

RV blew up, she threatened to do often
Hospital, Psychiatry, Santee moved RV
To County garage, Center, Ne.
Want her story ~ it's up for grabs!

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