Best Uses Poems
Terrorism Uses Violence
By Franklin Price
9/21/2016
Terrorism, uses violence to politically achieve a goal
The terrorist does the dirty work, as required, it's his role.
A bomb, a gun, a knife or two, a commercial high-jacked plane
Anything to scare the public, causing death and hurt and pain
The acts that we have witnessed, for fifteen years and more,
I don't believe are terrorism; let's examine what they're for.
Perpetrators have no politics; at least none I can see.
Some say, it is religion; doesn't much sense to me
It's about the haves and have nots. The haves, have riches to entice
The have nots, who have no future, into terror that's not nice.
If the enticed had any politics, would they take a one-way ride?
Terrorism, as it's known today, mostly ends in suicide
The poor and the impressionable, are the ones who join the cause
To disrupt those who have a future; they do not stop or pause..
Strike fear into the lives of those who have a stable life.
Cause them to wonder, if they're next; replace stability with strife
Can't see how that's political; except make civil go away,
May inject their chaos anywhere; to hold the world at bay.
Looks like they're succeeding. They're disrupting every day
Can't let their acts continue; can't let them have their evil way
If violence is all they know; the only thing they use
Here's what I say that we should do; a plan they can't refuse
Don't make excuses for them. Don't give them any slack.
Make all efforts, now, to stop them. Don't talk useless, idle smack.
Send the special forces, the snipers and the drones
Kill those who plan to harm us until there's nothing left but bones
What does not exist, can't hurt us, can't recruit misguided men,
Can't kill others indiscriminately, can't be terrorists (?) again.
Every day is a page to write a new story
But isn't this life's diary?
Leather aroma
Tightly bound tome
Mint and crisp at birth
Becoming well thumbed and worn
Finally we reach the last page
As we reach our last breath
To be filed away in the Great Library
Shelved with all the others
Do we meekly record our lives?
The next page like the last?
Are the paragraphs important?
The sentences?
The phrases?
The words?
The letters?
The droplets of drying ink?
Maybe it's the paper?
Most days are plain writing paper
Some are parchment
Some are toilet tissue
Bit of cardboard here and there
Or is it what we do with it?
Tear out a day
Let's start with a paper airplane
That was fun
Tear out a few weeks?
Shred and mix water?
Papier maché?
Make some great volcanoes!
Tear out a season?
Spring, summer, autumn, winter
Doesn't matter
Bit of origami?
Sandpaper swans?
Foolscap frogs?
Papyrus posies?
Or tear out a lifetime
One day at a time
Score and fold and stick and cut
Small pieces join together
Slowly takes shape
Patience
Build a model
Build a sculpture
Build a masterpiece
Save the last page for the epitaph
At the end the Great Librarian
Takes this finished life
Glasses perch precariously on the point of her nose
Tightly bunned hair now slightly askew
She shakes her head and tuts
"Not another one!"
"We don't have the space!"
"I'll just have to squeeze this between Mozart and Einstein"
(Entry for the "quote response" contest - re-entered for the "Premiere I - OpenPoetry Contest")
the enemy tries to use people to try and knock us down
but I am still smilling and not wearing a frown
I know God is greater and stronger than all things
and thats why today my heart still sings
I wake up early at the crack of dawn
and just keep singing even if i yawn
I feel revitalised i feel so new
my Lord came and rescued me
and he will come and rescue you
I carn't explain in words how he kept me on my feet
and all my pain and burdens he did release
he set me free from abuse and kept me safe from harm
when life Got a bit rough the Lord made it calm
I am safe and secure and all is well
and this is one testomony that i must tell
How amazing is the Lord that he does love me
how marvelous is his mercy and his peace shall always be.
What in heaven's name would we ever do, oft' I wonder,
If not for the humble pencil eraser to correct our every blunder!
Plaudits to Mr. Hyman Lipman for his inventive intellect,
For patenting this mundane gizmo for our errors to correct!
A pencil eraser is also useful for musing bards to chew on,
While striving to concoct verse when their cleverness is nearly gone!
I've even observed folks surreptitiously cleaning both of their ears
With a pencil eraser that would cause alarm to an otic doc and his peers!
A weekend golfer's pencil is sans an eraser and for good reason I suppose,
Otherwise, with certain "adjustments" to their scores they would all be pros!
In this enlightened and technological age, correcting mistakes is much neater.
No eraser needed - just click a button on the computer called a "deleter!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Honorable Mention in the "Rub It Out" Contest - June 2010
Wrote half a poem on a rat
Then realized I’d spelled it wrong
It’s not “Pact” Rat, it’s a “Pack” Rat
This write is just taking too long
Did a search on the Internet
To see how the word can be used
Wanted a unique use of Pact
So all of them there, I perused
Gave up and threw-in the towel
And decided to use them all
Although it may not make much sense
It’s a way around a brick wall
Like a treaty between nations
Pact is a formal agreement
Accord, alliance, protocol
A bond, a deal, an arrangement
PACT, a maker of underwear,
Hawaiian family service
Makes digital power scales
It’s also an adoption service
PACT is a citizen work group
And also bunch of other things
This has been going on too long
It’s over, I’m stopping the pain
Pardon me, is that your toe
I just had nowhere else to go
Excuse me, ma’am, I lost my footing
That’s why your dress is full of pudding
Oh, so sorry, you must be furious
I only touched you ‘cos I’m curious
Sir, I really forgot how tomatoes squirt
‘Til I saw the mess on your shirt
And please forgive me 1,000 times over
I thought you’d love my pit bull, Rover
For those of you who enjoy my work and both the "Beary Tales" and "Discovered Bear Poems" I have shared with you so far on Poetry Soup, there are now 44 Beary Tale adventures with 44+ Companion poems (written by my Teddy Bear "Bear Johnston") that you can view as they will be published with accompanying Illustrations by Artist Mar Fandos (still being completed). I invite you all to both share and comment on this new "Children's Book of Poetry?" that I have modeled after my favorite book of all time, "The Little Prince!" My final book will be 190 pages long so you can see I have been busy! Ha!
To view the book in it's current stage of completion (many illustrations are still missing but photographic ideas and directions to the artist can be viewed). Go to ...
www.icloud.com
Enter my username and password - [email protected] and AlecTron@9800.
Then select the iCloud Drive Icon. You will then see the latest version of this soon to be finished book which I am happy to share with you. Please feel free to leave me a message on either of Poetrysoup or by [email protected] for longer comments. Are the "poet's notes" a valuable part of the book in your opinion? I would be interested too in what your take is on my use of color in printing these poems to give children a visual sense of a poem's meter!
Nobody is afraid of unforeseen restraints
I use unused corners to keep my quiet complaints
By far the most despicable four letter word is fair
Because you don't see it, does not mean it's not there
Yes! Dust gathers everywhere you don't go
The Academy Awards yours, for your roll in the show
A movie about you surrounded by what you can't see
You have stolen the show, but still you won't leave
To you the bird chirps, to me the bird sings
You use unused corners for beautiful things
In my youth, I made
A bubble gum ball . . .
That over time just got bigger and bigger, usually.
It was sticky icky, just like me.
It splattered perfectly onto the wall . . .
The bubble gum wall!
That over time became a work of Art.
Always getting bigger, usually.
Also, a great filler for holes, I’m told.
It also sticks great on bark, and behold,
The bubble gum tree!
Every childhood should have one.
That tree on the walk to school,
Or in the park next to the playground,
Or next to the community pool.
So everyone can share.
But, if you left your ball at home,
Already passed the wall, missed the tree,
There was always that spot under your desk,
Or perhaps that forgotten tuck behind the ear.
Of course, the cute girl two rows up,
Blew the most wonderful, beautiful bubbles.
And when they’d pop, everyone in class knew.
She’d just smile with sticky all over her face.
I, and every other pubescent male, just wanted to pick it off.
No, lick it off would be more correct.
And chew her gum gum ‘til the end of time.
Though, she, and many of the girls, had their own, very own
Bubble gum box.
I prefer freshly wrapped store-bought gum.
All those artificial flavors and “natural” sugars,
They’re the best! Yum!
Mom always bought us Dental Gum.
She claimed it was good for our teeth.
Though, it’s practically impossible to blow bubbles.
But I was never one to pass up a freebee,
Especially when I was broke, which was most of the time.
In my youth,
I always had gum in my mouth.
And I never needed money to buy my own.
If my pockets were empty (which was most of the time) . . .
There was always the ball, the wall, the tree, or the desk.
A quick check behind the ear, just in case I forgot.
If it got stuck in my hair, then probably not.
I don’t have a box, that’s for girls.
I have something better. . .
A bubble gum world!
When I used to read the poems that I had written
I would be amazed and truly surprised
for I was aware that I wrote good poetry
but they turned out better than I would have realized.
Today I know better than I did way back then
I know that these words that I write are not mine
they could not have been created in a heart made of flesh
because their author is all powerful and divine.
I know that I could not think of these words alone
nor possess such creativity
God Himself created the words that I write
and then put all of these feelings in me.
When I'm inspired to write a new poem
I know that it's God giving me inspiration
He then goes through me and uses my hand
to give life to His wonderful creation.
When I am inspired I am one with His Spirit
which to me is unbelievably exciting
for God is giving me His thoughts to share with the world
and He is doing it using my handwriting.
I used to take all credit for the poems that I wrote
but I don't now for I finally understand
that all of my poems were created by God
He just chose to use my hand.
by
Benjamin Macieo Davis
ThePrinceofPoetry
Santa uses a sleigh
A race car!
A sled!
A tambourine!
How do you use a tambourine?
He drummed out a beat.
We mean to get around
To travel
Oh, that’s easy.
He has a limousine.
We are in ready-to-punch-each-other mode now
Just then Santa flies by under a helium balloon
GLORY TO OUR LORD AND SAVIOR Yeshua HaMeshiach
Thousands of miles away, my drums beat with America -
the ear drums as much as my heart rhythm: news of abuse
A mild term for what some (a minority, surely) police do
When they can get away with murder, or "crucifying a man" -
But when I am called to pray - here at the Senior Center -
I jump to it, my raison d'etre, my thanks to Jesus
As I did again today, for Tanie Dora. Mama Lilian had a testimony:
Her right arm, she lifted high, to show what prayer had done
(She had asked me to pray for her right leg, but now GLORY!
Her entire right side is responding, and moving, joyful story!)
Three years later, in her faith, Lilian believes Jesus will "restore"
So Wendy and I, prayer partners for a few months now, rejoice
In our LORD who still performs signs and wonders - imperfect voice
Of mine, and Wendy praying in Afrikaans, we deliver a one-two punch
To the dark side, in Jesus' Name. How good to also know
Jesus is the same always, even as our planet plunges in this or that
Tragedy wrought by human hands. What can God do with hate, our fear
Unless we trust Him for he says, "Come ... I will give you rest" * the burden
Lay at the foot of the Cross. If we hearken, we often pick the load again
And take it on our journey through the day. He will not violate
Our freedom to do as we will; even our freedom to fear and hate!
NOTE: * Matthew 11:28
Assembly everyday:-,
my friend snores!.
Priest Has Great Looking Hair
Hair looked great when Priest used dryer,
He has become known as prudent pacifier;
With long feet;
Voice so sweet;
Loved choir while wearing their attire.
Choir Never Liked Their Attire
Choir never did like their attire though,
And into trash they would rather throw;
Appearance poor,
And want no more,
While saying that God had told them so.
Disaster Did Strike In the Valley
A religious revival had become a rally;
Choir went on strike so we took a tally,
And lost count,
Of the amount;
Badly sang so buried them in the valley.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Choir members said that vestments made
them look like Baptists who were catalyst
for being abundant Episcopalian analysts.
Hello dear Papier Ma’che papoose.
Do you use paprika on your plums?
Babies do not talk, papoose thought.
This grandma must be all kinds of dumbs.