Best Upping Poems
My favorite President is yet to be
He may well not go down in history
For he'll do what really needs to be done
Antagonizing almost everyone under the sun
First he'll fix Social Security; it's running short of cash
Upping retirement age to 68, a move the 'swamp' will call rash
Then he'll crack down on Medicare/Medicaid fraud and crime
Infuriating the clout-heavy cheaters in America's medicinal slime
Next he'll free up school choice for the poor, not just the rich
More vouchers and charter schools: teachers unions will yell and beech
He'll clean up the ghettos, bust up the gangs, and load up the jails
Violent felons and their Park Avenue backers will want him impaled
He'll break the stranglehold on free speech and inquiry in universities
Big-tech CEO's will squirm, when he ends their totalitarian strip-tease
He'll repair the military, building the strongest defense ever
Daring China and Russia to come get us -- They won't; they're too clever
He'll veto delusionary pork projects which taxpayers can't afford
Boosting old-fashioned 'capitalism' -- for that he will not be adored
As for climate change, he'll pressure China, India and the other slackers
To reign in their CO2 abuse, while the world calls him a bully and hacker
Truth is, my favorite President-to-be will probably never get elected
And if somehow he does, I hope from angry mobs he'll be protected
~ Inspired by, but not an entry in L. Milton Hankins'
'Your Favorite President Contest' ~
Categories:
upping, america, anger, how i
Form:
Couplet
By committing to nothing, one retains infinite options.
I have hid inside these words for moons and seasons and New Year’s toasts.
The lone wolf roams fertile pastures unfettered.
The thrill of the hunt.
The chase.
An empty bed is the hope of a new body’s sleeping curve.
Tomorrow becomes yesterday.
“The mystery of mysteries is the gateway to marvels.”
I stopped looking long ago.
The faces have blurred into a montage of emptiness.
Come and go; came and went.
I never bothered much to be bothered.
There aren’t many memories
And I am thankful for that.
Wet fingers and licked lips’
Blood on my hands.
Wasted time.
The years run on like a favorite sitcom gone bad.
It all should have been retired years ago.
It is easier to stay afloat and roam the big waters alone
Than set up camp on an island and face a face.
No problems.
No worries.
No connection.
Freedom is all that you cannot commit to
And who surrenders to nothing is he who lives in frigid shadows of fear.
Maybe I have never truly known warmth.
I walk the streets like a war-worn shoulder.
A little cold, a little distant, a little too silent.
The words I have are recycled fragments of someone else’s life.
I don’t offer much.
Poker face.
Can you read my concrete stare?
I have an entire universe hiding in my back pocket
But I’m scared to show you.
It’s been so long since I groped or even fondled my own life.
I’m not sure what I do or don’t have to offer.
I just keep making bets and upping the ante.
Categories:
upping, angst, confusion, inspirational, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Upon the lakes they do swim gliding so effortlessly
These species of graceful waterfowl the largest of anatidae family
In their beautiful pure white plumage with elegant long curved necks
Blunted beaks and big webbed feet living together by water's edge
These magnificent creatures of the waters are a sign of purity and love
Remind us of the blessings in our relationships a gift from heaven above
If all goes well in there pairing they will stay together for rest of their life’s
When they glide upon the waters of our awareness they bring us deep insight
These birds of Mother Nature they’re exquisite and unique
Bearing exotic waves of beauty to our dreams as we do sleep
They swim around in our divine mind adding colours of delight
Encouraging us to spread our wings and take our glorious flight
Courting occurs on rivers and lakes throughout the known world
Whilst they live on plant life tiny fish and scattered bread as well
You might see them duck their heads as they feed upon their foods
But you better beware of their aggression whilst they protect their broods
The elegance of these myterious birds are displayed in a ballet dancer
Dancing into our emotions with their romantic artisticpower
Transforming our souls with delightful moves bringing us into harmony
With a brilliant performance of balance, control and technical flexibility
The beautiful dying swan pours its heart out as death draws near
Greeting this with an exceptional beautiful ending balladeer
Its modulated voice singing the swan-song of death so sweet
This harmonious sound can be heard as its last creative piece
The crown retain the ownership to all unmarked mute swans
A ceremony takes place once a year and lasts for five days long
Swan upping is a tradition dated back to the twelfth century
Markers row up and down the rivers paying tribute to the Queen
In England they’re a protected species and owned by Her Majesty
The wing spans on these wonderful birds can extent to several feet
These sacred aquatic birds male and female cobs and pens
Those little cygnets and swanlings on a swan lake that never ends
© Copyright KC.Leake
8th December 2014
All Rights Reserved
Categories:
upping, beauty, bird, mystery,
Form:
Light Verse
We can go for dinner and have a discussion,
a bit of mass debating when we're done masticating.
If you come and eject fluid situations,
give it hard with the exact impact you lay shown,
stand perfectly straight and strong when projecting,
you'll feel you can handle the hard times alone,
and spray the floor in awe and arouse.
Fire at will, keep comments coming,
come with them from different angles,
keep it coming together, back and forth,
give each other a hand to fluctuate a juicy content with flow,
always announce, "I'm gona command"
to one another before you fire away.
Start slow,
upping the beat and beating out the debate at a faster rate.
Go through the motions to get to fun fast pacing blast debating.
You will feel a great relief at the end of this intense group activity,
with powerful ejections, one or two oral pleasurers no doubt,
but mostly it's hands on,
so make sure your pen is in your hand,
your pen is out, and the pen is in the hands at all times.
If your pen is leaking in vain thus messy, we'll stop,
tissues are on tables, bins are behind you, clean up, put it in,
and when a new pen is handled in both hands,
showing you're ready, we'll whack on.
Keep your eye on the ball, good luck in this test to all,
give those judging the winner, a tough test to call,
because the headmasters mass debaters
go fast as a team mass debating.
Commit to the debate and show class of a master,
have a massive class debate.
Remember the pen is in your hand from start to finish,
don't lose grip, be on the ball,
enjoy your mass debating.
Work hard and mass debate as you play,
have fun.
Good luck.
Mass debate away.
Categories:
upping, hilarious, humor, humorous, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
I do not listen because my heart hurts when I hear the sad, and the mean.
And I get way too loud when I hear the happy. Sad, angry people frown at
My giant head-throwing witch cackling laugh. It hurts them.
I do not listen because it is better for my tender empathetic soul not to hear
What might make me feel bad all day long. However, people think I am listening,
Because I am the great pretender.
My head is nodding in all the right places, giving these people my comfort eyes,
As I am expertly not listening, fooling them, so I can retain the part of myself
that desperately needs to retain hope, joy, innocence, and optimism.
Uh-oh. Something has gone terribly wrong.
I am shaken into active listening, as I can tell by the person’s face
that they are not spewing out drama, or one-upping
Stories, just to be talking. I start to listen, learning who I need to help today.
My only talent, is being a maestro at knowing when and how to listen.
Categories:
upping, life,
Form:
Free verse
Panting and puffing I’m feeling the burn
Even though I’ve done only a minute
This machine is the work of the devil I’m sure
Oh god, I think I might vomit
I’m treading the mill to try and get fit
But I think this thing’s going to kill me
My bosom is heaving I’m sweating like mad
All this jiggling…. I now need a wee…
Increasing the incline and upping the speed
My little legs pumping like crazy
I feel the weight lifting I’m floating on air
Oohhh… every thing’s going quite hazy
Finally, slowly, it grinds to a halt
I’ve done TEN WHOLE MINUTES … can’t talk
Although I’m all wobbly I’m feeling quite chuffed
Maybe one day I’ll jog, not just walk
Categories:
upping, health, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Some con men blew smoke
Trusting it was adequate
Vulnerable and uncertain
We gambled from the same stack
For the beauty of your game
Men with no tells flat line their hearts
For a better chance in spades
Calling our bluffs, upping the ante
Some will fold, others will match
We have seen each others faces
Our cards presented on the table
Laden with truth, sobering
Round tables offered many suitors
I complement it, a ring of surprise
For your hand, your love, I am all in
Categories:
upping, valentines day,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Bring all your revenges to the table
Sit them down and serve them well
Crystal cut glass, French Champagne
And listen to the stories that they will tell
Place guilt across from regret
Whilst heartbreak and sin reacquaint
Thoughts starched up cotton napkins
Dine with both the sinner and the saint
Lies like locust swarms spelt in sentences on the menu
Anger boils over erupts spoiling the setting
Ego attempts a humble hasty intervention
But memories x-ray sharp prevent forgetting
Tensions trek arduously around this table
Whilst fear scavenges for dirty little secrets
Elusive emotion makes an elegant appearance
Upping the ante, everyone taking side bets
I thought I heard someone call my name
It was coward hiding behind the door post
How could I not go to his aid?
I really must leave and assist him, after all I am the host
Categories:
upping, character, emotions, environment, imagery,
Form:
Light Verse
Morning
Having sighed a great sigh
He perused all his tools
From the mainsprings and tweezers
To the wheels and the jewels.
He removed the large case latch
From the pocket watch cover
To survey all the insides
As he would any other.
He wasn't familiar
With a watch of that kind
And confused why the workings
Ran two days behind.
He adjusted his loupe lens
And then gasped at least twice
At the solid gold workings
Inside the device.
Noon
He rang up the owner
Who was due to arrive
At the shop to collect it
At twelve twenty-five.
"OK I will fix it
In time for your date
But as it's important
I'm upping my rate."
The owner grew worried
And made it quite clear
By accepting the offer
Amid cries of "Oh Dear!"
The watchmaker laughed
As he put the phone down.
He could now spend the extra
That night in the town.
Night
Once inside of The Tabard
He ignored his bad health
And turned to his drinking
To help pardon himself.
Having switched all the gold
In the watch for cheap tack
He swapped some for whisky
With a man in the back.
On his way home he stumbled
Through the storm and the wind
Tripping over a cat
Who'd appeared and just grinned.
Later That Night
Slumped under a tree
And left gasping for air
The watchmaker's own time
Stopped right then and there.
Categories:
upping, betrayal, business, fantasy, literature,
Form:
Narrative
As you walk in the door. You throw your coat on a chair.
I tell you darling it dosent go there.
You move it to the bed .As you turn around .
I run my fingers through Your long sweet blonde hair
You smile and pull me closer your body has a delicious odour
Now I have a stirring inside me an ardor.
You unbutton my shirt your hands small and warm.
I kiss your soft neck and feel the pounding of your blood
As it courses through my lips. Tickling your vein with my tongue.
Tasting the salty perspiration as you lean closer in.
You run your hands round to my back.
I let your hair fall in my face. Both of our hearts are upping the pace
You gently slowly pull my shirt of my body. As it falls to the floor.
I kick close the door. Nothing to interrupt our hobby.
I pull up your t-shirt. And a huge smile is on your face.
Yes our love is going to hurt. But it will be full of grace.
Now naked we stand and just hug each other.
Theres no need to rush. We are proper true lovers.
Lots of kissing lots of hugging and total respect.
This time will be special as they always are.
Just you an I together forever we never expect
Anything but the best in this our workout spar.
Giggling and laughing as young lovers are.
Categories:
upping, crazy, love, love hurts,
Form:
Rhyme
This epidemic re: murderous love affair perfervid
with gruesome morbid
fixation allowing, enabling and providing terrifying
trappings, whence Pandora out the lid
anger loosed by gun toting recorded by hid
dee us aide de camp per grim reaper
milling crowd, each bewildered person stunned viz satanic grid
loosed bullets ensnare coterie upping ante bid
daring pernicious fare thee well odiously off loaded
per incendiary fiery maelstrom to mega death count added.
Suicide bombardier slakes thirst aims at billeted soiree
with deadly precision, and spray painting human innards
congregated engaged groupon people), with egregious pay
ment for exaggerated slight mowing down, a slew - nay
soon to be lifeless victims unaware - delivering may
hem to anonymous hunter a cannibal as well
family and survivors, who lay
down their sorrows, which bring revulsion and gray
obsolescence of faith in mankind to fray.
Death be not proud, nor ought airtime be allocated to these
heinous cavalier avengers foe tee eight-hour special (proffers
twitchy finger itching to squeeze
especial easy access to sophisticated high caliber compact
offspring family affair sport doth please
manifesting prize pride killing machine owners
posed as stonewall Jackson frieze
rapaciously with so much ease
lethal gimcrackery cutlasses incite epidemic violence as disease.
Sorrow soulful songs sung by the likes of death cab for cutie or goo
goo dolls in tandem with foo
fighting beastie boys pay homilies whence homage grew
to grateful dead nobody knew
fetishistic martyrs wannabe set sights of sister and mew
sic cull doobie brothers of their simian species with no sorrow to rue.
Categories:
upping, addiction, body, cry, emotions,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
E ach Wednesday evening we eat soup and bread,
A simple meal like one our Savior ate.
S upping with dear and closest, trusted friends,
T aking the food to meet His coming fate.
E very one is regretfully afraid,
R ealizing that our loved Savior dies.
R evolted that our own dark, grievous sin
I s causing Him to ride to His demise.
T raveling fearfully with Him to His doom
U ntil his death on Cross on Black Friday.
A ll of us mourn and sorrow by the tomb.
L ooking to promise we'll see Him again.
S unday brings that most astounding vision.
He has risen!! Our Christ is arisen!!
By: Joyce Johnson
Entered in Linda-Marie's Easter contest
Categories:
upping, faitheaster,
Form:
Acrostic
Three plump old biddy birds full of birdseed and whey
Sat on a limb spreading gossip and rumors that day
I heard she did this and he did that said Mrs. McVey.
They all had a story, about things crazy and gray.
One-upping each other on this nonsensical Tuesday.
Surely you have something better to do cawed a blue jay.
They took out their sling shots and forced him away.
I never should have married that fool said Mrs. McVey
Categories:
upping, bird, humorous,
Form:
Prose Poetry
3 poems for contest entry
Failure to come to a Complete Stop
Auto battery.
Clicking.
Depleted energy.
Feeling grumpy, harried,
Impatiently jump-start Kia.
Leave Mom’s neighborhood.
Octagonal, purely quintessential red sign taunts.
Upping velocity, willfulness exacerbated, you zoom…
Yikes!
Extraneous white vehicle (undercover) trumpets sirens.
Realization quickens… Pegged!
Officer notes makeshift license knowingly.
Jail imbues hastily.
Gaining freedom – eight-thousand dollars cash.
Busted again.
-----------------------------------
When the Princess gets Agitated
Some things
test
our
preconceptions.
Some things
Try
Our
Patience.
Some things
TWIST
OUR
PANTIES!!
…
Sorry, time out, please.
-------------------------------
When Time Stands Still
Leaping in barefoot abandon
Soaring every which way from Sunday
Laughter effortlessly exhaling cool breezes.
Lounging on nature’s lush carpet
Silhouette illumined by carefree serenity
Lapping up rays and shining them back
Licorice sticks and crackers and brie
Sweet plumpness of kiwi and mango and peach
Licking ripe juices off contented grin
Long luscious showers in waterfall glory
Swirling delightfully playfully pure
Lingering loving caresses of freshness
Last blush of daylight’s electrical charge
Sunset yields gracefully generously kind
Lights flicker syntax where space enfolds meaning
Lay here beside me
Savor my dream
Let my enchantment touch yours
Categories:
upping, funny, happinesstime,
Form:
ABC
As my thighs grip your neck
And my hands hold on tight
I am a rocket sent to
Blast off and leave this planet
With every spin and turn
I am transported out of this world...
I am riding you big, and masculine, backwards
And you are my bull
When I ride you, you are my lover
And you are mine and I own you...
I show off my strength as
My arms and leg muscles
Hold me firmly in your lap
I show my dancer's
Flexability and grace
As my body flows and folds
With every turn and buck that you give me
I predict what you will do
And I ride and move my body
In tandem with your bucks and thrusts
I enjoy the ride
And as the operator tries to throw me off
Upping the speed faster and faster
I SCREAM because it is scary
And exciting all at the same time
My head is spinning...
And at the same time,2-3 minutes
My arm and knuckles are swelling and in pain
And then with a sign, I let go and give up
Categories:
upping, adventure, animals, cowboy-western, passion,
Form: