Best Well Off Poems
Bleed for me
Why?
Why what she says?
Why do you cut, why do you bleed yourself?
Why do birds fly, how the heck should I know?
Ah but you are so beautiful, soft and sweet
You see only as you wish, no one looks closer
At the inside of me
No one sees the mirror I see
Tiss not true, I see through your eyes
Come then take a good look, stare into my emptiness
You see nothing ok?
I remain quiet, somewhat stunned at the rebuke
We both stare out the window, a broken neon sign
Singing with the wind
She whispers
If I cut myself, to pieces
I will slowly disappear and float away
Inside will be outside
The emptiness in my eyes will be everywhere
The Ferris-Wheel ride will end
I slowly gathered up some rather random thoughts
My life was sunny
Then one day it rained
Then sunny
Rain and sun, rain and sun
Then the rain came again
And again…
Dark clouds hovered
The days all became nights
Until there was daylight no more
A ghost taunted… I no longer mattered
Until I became the ghost
So you see, I have nothing left to cut
She shyly looked over at me, confused it seemed
You, you… you have money
You look handsome
I dare say you seem well off
You have it all, and want for nothing
The neon sign, the crickets, the bedside clock
A symphony of sound in a room of silence, tick tock. Tick tock.
Slowly, I discovered words, softly I dared repeat them
You said I see nothing
In this, is true, I did look into your eyes, I saw
Inside of you nothing as you say
Emptiness
I saw a poverty of wanton desire, lost to this world
In this you are also wrong
For as I stared you refused to avert my curiosity
Our eyes locked
The emptiness inside of you
You see
Is me
Time continued its journey
Tick Tock went the clock
Silence crept towards a comfort
Imperceptible, a few of their fingers interlaced
Touching
The neon sign stop flickering
And cried
Blast it bird! Where are ye off to?
Don’t ye know the day is through?
Oh but I’ve a lovely song to sing,
I must ere I do another thing.
To the man in the garden who works with the hoe,
He’s tired and lonely and his heart needs to grow.
Then off to the widow who thinks of her lost mate,
And meditates on the gorgeous sunset of late.
It is my heartfelt, joyful duty for which I long,
To comfort God’s people with my little song.
Oh, well off you go then,
Your song wins again..
Inspired by Francine Robert's contest 5/8/11
I dedicate this poem to you,
The one who I used to call "friend",
"Best friend", or maybe even "sister".
Yes, you meant that much to me,
And I thought I meant as much to you.
No, maybe not as much, but at least a "best friend".
Did I ask for too much?
Was that too selfish of a request?
I thought that we'd be best friends forever,
I really did.
But I guess it was all just a fantasy,
A fragment of my imagination.
After all, reality is a much harsher place.
I think I only realized that after you walked away;
After you walked away and never looked back
And left me in a deep, dark pit of torment,
Wondering why you'd changed.
If I'd done something different, would you still be the same?
Of all the people beside me, I never would have guessed that
You would be the one to leave me like this.
And as I watched from a mile away,
How well off you seemeed without me,
I fell into a sea of depression.
For the longest time,
I felt so lonely,
Questioning myself whether anyone truly needed me.
Or was I only just second choice?
Now, as I am writing this poem,
I cannot say that I have been completely healed.
I still feel the doubt, the uncertainty,
When someone says
"I love you"
Or
"You are my best friend"
Even when I know that it is all in my head.
But I think I can say with confidence that
I have become stronger,
Even if just a little bit,
Even though sometimes
I still miss you.
I forgive you my dear country
And her ignoramuses
To my televangelists who prophesy
earthquakes
And hellfire
Instead of love and forgiveness
So they steal from the poor
To buy miracles from God;
To my shopkeeper who doubles the
price
Of flour at will
Even before Kidero completes his
speech
On taxes
I forgive you all.
I forgive you, brother
For refusing my handshake
Because I'm well-off than you
As if being rich is a crime.
I forgive you Mr Bossman
For turning down my job application
Though my only un-qualification
Was I failed to belong to your clan.
I forgive you my uncle back home
For perpetually grabbing my farm
Because I'm always in town
Getting a life for myself
When your sons are the chief's
drones
Who grab chickens from helpless
widows
And lynch witches in the village.
I forgive you too my ambitious
cousins
For conning me when you promised
To get me a job in your company
Immediately I'm through with
college.
I forgive you Mr. Policeman
For innocent incarceration
Torture
And hefty fines
Though you know I was innocent.
I forgive you Wamboi
For eating my money
Then running away with my children
And half of my wealth.
To my White brothers who think we
still live in the bush with antelopes
And harass us at their embassies
And airports
I forgive you too.
Before you clone another virus to
kill my people
I forgive you.
To all vagrants who rape our women
And slash the throats of fellow
Kenyans for money
I forgive you all.
To my bright law-makers in
parliament
I forgive you for your lies
I know I will see you again in 2017
In brand new bank notes
And brand new promises
And I will still forgive you.
To my colleagues fighting for
recognition
And job promotions
And wishing me jobless
I forgive you too
Your're just victims of greed
And selfishness.
To my heads of state
Sparking wars at will
Puppets of neo-colonialism
I forgive you too.
It's not in my position to judge
Or condemn you
History will do that.
Lastly
I forgive myself
For being too human
And trusting too much.
They weave, they weave
They weep and they weave
Smarting under the persecuting whips -
Verbal, literal or carnal whips
They weep, they weep.
Locust-like they swarm the streets
To reach the factories before the sun settles well
In its diurnal rounds.
There are no circumstances unavoidable
Reach they must the gates at the hour final….
Sartorial gladiators they are
Salary they draw but in the
Etymological sense- they are well off
Enough to buy salt.
Eagle-eyed lustful look
Do the ups and downs of their physique hook -
Surveying the geography of their constitution
And the lecherous bosses or carnally starving colleagues
Devotedly concentrate on each continent
And ready to pay compliment
Only if they are crowned with the sovereignty to discuss
Issues that make the gynecologists blush!
Penelopes of the modern times,
Your hands transform loan-sharks
Into pot-bellied, globe-trotting tycoons.
These textile Sheikhs
When their family or female(s) sneeze
Millions and millions they unsqueeze
As if they are sylvestral leaves
Falling beauteously in the vernal breeze!
But alas! These helicoptered and villaed
Villains, as if through the alchemy of a vile wand
Into penniless paupers transformed
When the Midas-hands entreat them
To get exchange for their tears and sweat.
All big talks, fountains of philanthropy run dry -
And they weave and cry
They weave and cry!
Cry no more, Penelope, weave no more,
Never will your Odysseus come
Cease weaving, cease embroidering.
Yet the dream-laden Penelopes
Weep and weave,
They weep and they weave!
They weep and they weave!!
If I could rap, it would probably be about how the people feel
Not just any old crap, you know something with more appeal
Maybe this and that but something thats a little bit more real
Talking of the less well off, not the ritches of all the toffe nose
You might scoff, but not refering to women as *****s and hoe's
Some might cough, I could have people in stitches who know's
Yo! I might not be as thick as I look, one of those simple minds
Rifmic?, I don't know, is there a hook, read between the lines
Some might take the mick, I'd better then duck at these times
Talking about adversity and emotion, talking you are in rhyme
Kind of like poetry in motion, expressing yourself in every line
Discussing all the anachy and comotion happing at this time
Trying to get a mesage across but in a different kind of speach
Talking about faith, hope and loss, getting to those out of reach
Some probably could not give a toss, but I'm not one to preach -
like the future the present and the past tense, not any old crap
It would not be the sort to cause offence, not just this and that
It would be something that made more sense,oh if I could rap
Written 2006 between july august probably to many cylibals
just playing with words some words lines
became apart of poem I wrote called no deeper meaning
written 2008 which is kind of like an introduction to everything else Id wrote
and a much better write
Grandpa said you work hard all day
to do to yourself some good....
So, what you think as priory in your pay,
is a well deserved dish of good food!
For the less fortunate; one square meal.
And for the well off; another day's feast!
In diet classes, I say it’s not a big deal
to decline your favorites to have fat decreased!
At home, I sit with a well garnished pizza “extra cheese”.
a large chunk of ‘Black Forest cake’ to follow
and a glass of wine, selected and chilled, please.
I can't help, my stomach is an ever growing hollow!
So, do what I say but don't do what I do.
Rational on duty but mad for a ‘biryani”, spicy and hot!
Strong to my audience, but weak with a pint of home brew.
Excuse me, friends, I can’t resist much my cooking pot!
28/06/16
Honorable mention for contest I love food by Lewis Raynes (29/06/16)
It was cold in New York City. In the dark,
alley, behind the lavish buildings among the
super rich, roam the forgotten.
Waiting in line at the redemption center,
turning in their plastic bottles, to pay for their
next meal.
The well off in their arrogance look at them
and look away in disgust. In their minds they
are nothing, of no value, they are the blemish
of society.
They have blinders on like race horses as they
make their way to Macy's avoiding looking at
them. Is it their selfish conscious, was it
the way they were raised? That causes this
self centered behavior.
What is lacking in a human being not to feel
the pain of others? Not to want to lend a helping
hand like a good Samaritan to a poor, or hungry
soul.
It is Christmas Eve. It is bitter cold. She makes
her way with a group. To the back alleys, to
find the lost, the hurting, the cold, the needy.
She holds them tenderly, tears flowing from her
eyes. She sees the purple hands from the cold
that some are experiencing. They huddled together
by the side of a building. A large blanket wrapped
around them. Cardboard mattresses they lay on.
She makes eye contact and reaches out to hand
them sandwiches. The group gives them blankets
they have brought. Clothing, socks, and gloves.
Their eyes light up, their hearts are overwhelmed
with appreciation and love for this woman and the
group that are with her. They say thank you. Just
before she leaves, she blesses them and says a
prayer for them.
As she is leaving one of the homeless asks." What
is your name, If you tell me I will never forget it. We
all want to know." She responded, "My name is
Mother Theresa...
Dedicated to all those that will remain homeless
during Christmas, those that will be hungry and cold,
those that are forgotten, those that are veterans that
have protected our freedoms and are homeless.
Those for one reason or another are destitute. Those
that are hungry and will not have gifts this Christmas.
May the good Lord watch over them and give them
comfort and joy, peace and hope.
12/4/2015
You never meant anything to me anyway.
If I twist my wrist and thrust it down,
I flick my hips and slip away.
If I smash my forearm into your grill,
this is how I get my thrill.
You never meant anything to me anyway.
I am just a player, playing for fun.
But when I begin to play for money,
I flick my hips and slip away.
Sometimes, brutality and reality collide.
Brothers and players stand side by side.
You never meant anything to me anyway.
Well-off fans and super-rich owners,
to the players, are nothing but donors.
I flick my hips and slip away.
The players always give their all,
but always are expendable.
You never meant anything to me anyway.
I flick my hips and slip away.
The shows I watched when young were black and white.
About five channels came on day and night.
The Beaver, Opie, Jeanie, Flying Nun
were characters I liked both good and fun.
Shows of humor sometimes missed their function;
one like that for sure was “Petticoat Junction.”
But “Laugh-In,” “Lucy,” and “Bewitched” were cool;
“Three Stooges” I rushed home for after school.
“Lassie” for the kiddies, “Rifleman” for dad,
“The Man From U.N.C.L.E” for us all, a 60’s fad.
By standards of today, those shows were tame.
The raciest perhaps was “The Dating Game!”
One genius fat guy, Hitchcock, gave a thrill
with horror tales. I like those re-runs still!
But there’s one 60s TV show that I
recall the best; I’ll finish telling why!
“Bonanza,” broadcast Sundays, was the one
for romance, drama, and great family fun,
for on the Ponderosa lived wise Ben
and his three sons, well-off but simple men.
The chubby one named Hoss was kind of sweet.
The oldest, Adam, I found really neat!
Little Joe, whom we girls would like to marry,
later moved to “Little House on the Prairie!”
It may not have been best of old TV,
but it was sure a cherished show for me
because it came each Sunday night at eight,
a special time so great I could not wait!
My mom and dad and we eight kids would sit
together happily enjoying it.
Before the show began my mom would pop
a huge pan full of popcorn, butter on top.
Each time commercials came, we’d dip a bowl
of ours into that pan; I’d get so full
for I’d eat eight or ten small bowls of it.
Once I begin with popcorn, I can’t quit!
This was the family custom I lived for
since television and food I both adore.
It was the night we all together sat
enthralled, and there’s not much that can beat that!
Written by Andrea Dietrich
(I have too many today to name TV favorites but I really
think "Bonanza" has to be my favorite from my childhood!)
For Michael J. Falotico's "Ryhme Me An Old TV SHow.... Poetry Contest"
A Realtor Haiku
was starting to see
they must sell some property
for them to survive
what would be best way
for all of this to be done
and end up well off
thought occurred to them
they should sell cheap and then run
to escape it all
that is what they did
and now no one is in debt
happy have become
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
One thing about being retired now
It gives you time to think, and how.
I was lounging out in the pool today,
The little jobs done, it was time to play
And there in that warm and sunny haze,
I drifted back to my old school days.
Now where I lived was a grimy place,
Smoke from many chimney's in your face.
But we had places where we could go,
Safe from the traffic going to and fro.
We swam in the canals,rivers and streams,
Always safe trying to live out our dreams.
We often saw pictures of places far away,
Wondering if we would go there some day.
Our dreams as kids were like a butterfly,
Soon something else would catch our eye.
We never strayed far from our home ground,
As money was tight , not much to go round.
Some of the kids of a more well off family,
Went off on trips where they saw the sea.
Now as I look back over all the years it seems,
That it took a lifetime to realise those dreams.
OK ,maybe I now cannot frolic around like a kid,
But I've been there, seen it, done it. Oh yes I did.
To all those faraway places I dreamt of to see,
I went to them all when I joined the Army.
It's nice to look back over the years as I said,
It's just like a bit of nostalgia, revisited.
© Dave Timperley 16 August 2016
Cap'n & the Wench *part the fifth*
Says the Wench to the Cap'n " We'll dabble in Real Estate!"
So says the Cap'n to the Wench " 'Twould seem 'tis our Fate!
As Tales are often Told from Time to Time & Again~
So doth it go twixt Wenches & those very Bold Men~
This Great Saga of the Cap'n & that Wench so Very Dear~
Had been begun then to continue Year after ever Year~
But all Sailors well know if'n they've oft Smartly Tacked~
Yer in Irons fer certain if'n yer Royals are Backed~
Makin' speed astern would allow such One chance to Box~
Mindin' Gales gone a'lee creatin' Naught but Fear~
Only a keen SeaWolf might again Sail as would the Fox~
All surely believin' his Great Ship could naught but Wear~
'Twould be a course destined by Fate were the Helm hard a'Lee~
Maidens of the Depths gatherin' as Winds did'st now Howl~
Yet t'was a plot laid by SeaWolf as his heart Set him Free~
For Great Winds & Waves now did'st appear & Truly Growl~
From Deep Down under this Tormented Surface~
Came now to the ears of all Those now Enraged~
Softly with Empathy & Fanciful Purpose~
Silent Sounds heard well ~ all distinct Reason had Swayed~
Lee Rail's buried beneath Wind Torn Sea~
Gale a Howlin' thru the Riggin' & Spars~
From SeaWolf nary a word nor any Certain Plea~
His Eyes & that 'sprit a'fixed on Far Stars~
This Tale oft whispered in Taverns & Pits.......
Ye'll hear it fer certain Bit by little Bit.....
Pay Heed to Lessons Learned thus Herein.....
'Twere it to be Pleazure in life yer Truly to Win~
For Never Again Will Be Seen that Great Ship at Sea~
Only possibly for some who truly Set themselves Free~
In Dream Foggy Nights fiesty with Calm Swells~
Listen Well off in the distance for that Great Ships Bell!
SeaWolf
©
I am a nurse. It is a difficult job, very stressful and emotional. The patients need
us to be at our best. Nurses are required to be dedicated, caring, responsible and
compassionate to others. Nurses need tons of empathy not only for their patients
and families, but for each other. Now, I have met some mean people in my life
so far, you know friends who disappoint, even family members at times. But I was
shocked to find a nurse who was the absolute worst gossip and bully. Imagine
that! She would join groups to degrade, gossip, insult, sabotage, be mean and
spread lies. How can there be team work with bullying going on? Each person even
if a newbie should be treated with respect, after all everyone was new once! It
always appalled me and from my very beginnings I have never been part of gossip.
Once, for fun, I told the big gossip a story, that I was having an affair with a
older, well off, married man, and I whispered, "PLEASE, don't tell anyone!" Well,
that spread like wildfire. Seriously, a nurse being so cruel is something no one
would expect but trust me she is a pretty good talker. " Oh did you see her
flirting at the Christmas party with every guy!( I think that one was TRUE) Did you
see how much time she spends with her patients and with talking to the families,
REALLY! Oh look at her playing goody, goody with the head nurse! Did you know
she is having an affair with an older, well off, married man, yes, its true she told
me herself!"
this girl was brand new
I did not understand why-
my t e a r s gave me strength
_____________________________
June 15, 2016
Poetry/Narrative with Senyru/The Pretty Talker
Copyright Protected, ID 16-800-637-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Pretty Talker,
sponsor, Skat
Fourth Place
1/20/23
Continually facing struggles
Remaining puzzled
Going too hard straining muscles
Punks always out making trouble
Many in labs out to clone, attempts at creating doubles
So many shell-shocked
Others being fools while well off
Too many people quick to tell lots
They either say truth or sell crock
Had to change this
Less of the same
It took an occasional lane switch
Problems incoming, I took on and faced quick
Regardless if you understand the main gist
A lot of phenomenon and this world can't explain it
Don't be an ignoramus
It's not conspiracy or about getting famous
Why do continual acts occur that are heinous
Times were very far from the greatest
I was headed towards the grave if
I didn't get wiser and become one of the bravest
It's been difficult on a daily basis
I need to jump into a lake
Take a break
Gosh dangit
A heart of gold or soul cold like polar ice
To this day, so much is overhyped
And overpriced
Just not the same as prototypes
On top of that we got all these socialites
It never has been so polite
When it came to voting rights