Best Wid Poems
Winsome Wisteria Sonnet
Eden, open your ardent arms to grace
Wisteria's soft lilac petaled blooms
Draped stunningly about Spring’s sunny face
In softest shades of lavender like plumes.
Your aroma wafts heady in the breeze
When graceful racemes descend from above.
Divine as the frilling flowering trees
Your stunning sight captures my heart with love.
Goddess Venus must surely be aware
Of the glorious sight that you bestow
Like dainty dangling ringlets in Spring’s hair
As zephyrs sprinkle your petals below.
I am profoundly moved by your presence
And tranquilly transported with pleasance.
4-19-21
Poems of the Day April 21, 2021 ~Thank you Team Poetry Soup!
ALL YOURS (Apr 20)Contest -First Place
Sponsor Brian Strand
Your best sonnet this year so far Contest -Second Place
Sponsor John Hamilton
My thanks to this site for the photo of Wisteria:
https://target.scene7.com/is/image/Target/GUEST_5f778c57-02de-4839-9233-d70736dddd8d?fmt=pjpeg&wid=1400&qlt=80
Categories:
wid, beautiful, beauty, flower, spring,
Form:
Sonnet
Ellie was just three months old,
When she was brought to our sanctuary,
A safe haven was our fold.
She was an orphan, her mother,
Her sister, her aunt, her brother,
All chased and shot, and left to die,
From our sad experience we knew,
That probably a foul mouthed,
Red faced, sun frazzled man
Whose muscled legs would look
Disgusting,
And who with red eyes bulging
Would say,
What a booty,
We have in the truck today.
He would generate an excitement,
Of the atrocity they had
Committed, saying they would
Receive a bonus this month
Added to their pay.
And what was their booty,
A truck full of tusks
Elephants killed when it
Was still light,
Until dusk
Too dangerous at night.
A war between poachers
And rangers
How could rangers,
Gentle souls, who loved animals,
Equal the poachers trained brutality,
Who had not a trace
Of humanity.
Baby Ellie
Was found,
Starving, scared and cold,
Somewhere in the African bush
Almost dead,
But she survived a shot to the head.
We had other young orphans,
They all would play
As baby elephants do,
And slowly Ellie became stronger.
Her mummy who faced
Horrific slaughter,
Would have been so proud of
Her daughter.
Rehabilitation was done,
It was both work and fun.
Eight months later we all
Thought that it was time,
For Ellie to be with her own kind,
And knew she would find
In the African bush, a new
Family who would care
And love her.
Clumsily she got into the truck,
Perhaps it was fear that
Brought the smell of death near,
Awkwardly.
And hesitantly she walked
Down the ramp,
A mama elephant spied her first,
And with their recognizable gait,
And heavy weight,
Walked to one another,
Swinging their trunks,
And so, they met,
And side by side they walked
To the nearby water pan,
Our hearts sang,
As Ellie turned and let out
A loud,
But proud,
Thunderous trumpet,
Thank you she meant,
I love you too.
Ellie had finally
Come home,
To her own.
Categories:
wid, death,
Form:
Free verse
Usher him out!
I think this was the Lord's house
Wait a second
Pastor where is the love of which you speak
All your brothers armed with guns not a Bible ...wi in the Middle East?
Usher him out!
Pastor something wrong ...isn't there a place for me, wid mi red lipstick, mi wig and mi modern day dress ...a little short but a fi mi ...
I don't have a place in heaven?
Mi nuh count inna the good book?
Mi nuh know the scriptures well but mi sure a part seh "render yuh heart not yuh garment"
Mi never go nuh theological school but mi heart clean although mi dress short.
I think in the Lord's house yuh woulda usher mi in.
Pastor mi have a problem with you telling me I have no voice because I am a woman.
Who give you the right to call me a prostitute just because I don't dress like your wife.
She may be silent but I will speak ...You will not take away my voice from me.
Usher him out!
Shouldn't you be the one inviting him in
Mi nuh understand this church thing
Love your neighbors as yourself...I guess you miss that part in the bible pastor ....I hear you call him hypocrite...isnt that what you are?
Usher him out a the Lord's house ...isn't this where you welcome us all in with open arms...it shouldn't matter how I look ... now we know who the real hypocrites are.
Categories:
wid, christian, judgement,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Ammmazing how many blithering idiots
sip silently while from their
purpled tongue
horrors regurgitate...
a ripe bachus regurgitation
soured by the tilt
of goblet and the howling
incessant banter of
bartender
Blithering idiots who the hell
what the heck
geez my glass in almost empty
HERE maitre DEE
fancy BOY!
MerrrrrrrrrrLOW pllllllleeease!
get the damn ice away from me
that’s real cheesy
You know NO FOOL puts
ice in red wine
Yeah yeah…git a bottle
gimmee that cork I wantta
sniff it
YOU
BOY!!!
Clink? Clink where? WHAT?
oh fork YOU
Buddy whatzit mean
when ya drop a fork?
Bill HERE!
Pen? pen WHAT?
I don't need no damn pen
can't ya see
I'm writting
wid one?
Categories:
wid, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
The Amadawn ‘ave played the joker
for the Good folks fairy Coort
‘T was they ‘ave egged the paper birches
an’ touch’d the scare crow’s stalks.
They ‘ave giv'n leerin pumpkin ‘eads
to Dullahan black ‘eadless ‘orse.
Tied the liein’ Leprechain’s tongues.
Changed the dread Pooka’s course.
Stol'n the noble Banshees keen moan.
an ‘idden ‘er bone white comb.
They ‘ave lured two changeling lovers
to Red Man’s bloody ‘ome.
N’er free since June, the jesters play
their brash tricks on Samhain’s eve.
Stealin’ all the gifts left fur the dead
‘neath mournin’ mortals trees.
N’t till the sunrise will they lave off
wid ‘ the Leprechauns in toe.
And sadly scurry ‘omeward bound
sure laven us all alone!
Categories:
wid, adventure, fantasy, funny
Form:
Quatrain
Yuh come inna mi office
come tek out mi tings
yuh bright!!!!!!!!!!!
Mi nuh undastan yuh!!!!!!!!!!
Mi sey to miself...
"Lawd, mi a go forgive him....see di good side"
but nooooooooooo......
yuh come, nuff up yuhself and TIEF!!!!
Bwoy o bwoy....
ghost know who fi frighten...
clearly me a no one.
Come nuh...step in yah again!!
Me an yuh a go 'ave it out!
Tink seh mi likkle bit an caan mash ants...
wait likkle more...
King Kong piss up himself when me get bringle!!
An den yuh 'ave de audacity fi come laugh inna mi face!
Yuh no know who yuh a deal wid!!??
lata fi yuh...mi have betta tings fi do!
hhmmmmph!
NB: For those who may not understand the language the poem, it is written in
Jamaican Patois.
Categories:
wid, angst, on work and
Form:
Twere a blisterin day, on da Fundy Bay, aboard da ‘ Black Angel of da Blue”,
with a crew of 32, whilst resting a spell, wid a thunderin clap of grog ,
when da Jack o’ Cups , his Jib a hangin, spotted a Jolly Roger aft.
Aye! ye coulda sinked me! When dem thar scallywags gave chase.
So we pumped da bilge, droppin a load of crap in thar path, weighed anchor,
turned three sheets to da wind and tried to outrun dem thar sprougs,
but me mateys' deadlights twere blinded by da grog -
as useless as dem thar lanlubbers, and soon dem thar scallywags
overhauled da ‘ Black Angel’.
So! wid a heave to, we blasted dem thar swabs wid da balls off da Brass Monkey...six pounders dey be, but nary-a-one hit da mark and nary a one came back. Dem thar scuffeys' didn’t aim ta sink us, fur da botty be all dey be wantin.
Arrr! Fur sur now we be black spotted,
but I not be ready fur Davey Jones locker yet.
One more clap of thunder be what I be needin ta clear me groggy mind
and figger a way outta dis hornwaggle.
So I spliced da mainbrace and it come ta me in a flash,
da only cargo we be a carryin be Rummmmmmmmmmmm.
so we set dem thar kegs adrift and it wernt long afore dem thar
sprougs was a drinkin grog and a fine time be had by all.
~~~~~
Inspired by: Paula Swanson's contest
Awarded: Second Place
Author's Note:
In order to understand this narrative, you need to understand Pirate's language. You can
find it on the web - just type Pirate language in your search engine.
Categories:
wid, me,
Form:
Narrative
Geordie is ma brother; some say he is a hero!
Me, ah ken better an’ his rating’s close tae zero!
He likes tae hog the flair wi’ jokes oh say dreary’
Efter twenty meenits we grow a wee tadge weary.
He has a better side but it’s hidden oot o’ sight,
An’ onything he says, Ye’ve guessed, he is ayewis right!
Ah’m no sayin’ he is stoopid, that wid be unkind;
Aw he really needs is a kick up his behind.
Hooever, he’s ma brither sae ah’m gi’en’ him some flack;
Ah’m share that when he reads this he’ll gi’e me plenty back:
Ah suppose ah really like him, weel jist a tiny bit,
Even wi’ his awfy childish doonbeat wit!
Ah should stope ma ramblin’s an tell ye somethin’ guid!
It isna really true that his heed is made o’ wid;
Naw, he’s truly brilliant….when he is far awa’,
An’ talkin’ oan the telephone he’s like a babblin’ Craw.
AYE FOLKS THAT’S MA BRITHER!!!!!! An’ ah love him!
Categories:
wid, brother, funny, humorous,
Form:
Verse
Let’s hve haggis and drinks mi luve
Find de bes ina de ole land
Lay yu head on mi chest mi luve
Whilst wi dance musik wid de band
Dance wid de band in de Highlands
Backyard jig good fer de ole soul
Tickle mi nose with yu gold locks
Tigether wi bade ead to toe’s sole
Call Fionn mi Luve with his jug
Nice poems he read at de gate
Summon the Clooties with a mug
Aye, they will cum and bles dis date
We’ll sail de river on Loch Ness
Kelpies will protect our flanks
Goddess Scotia says we bless
Oh mi chamin' sweet Sidhe, tanks
Aye! Mi sweet luve; Boobrie will fly
He will fetch up the Salmon Ring
And a knot cross de land we tye
Red Caps our guard til cum de spring
Then wid haggis and drinks mi luve
Goddesses'pipes blow dem great songs
In the grey mist we skip and dance
Then like Boobrie we fly with doves
Scottish Mythical Legends:
1. Fionn is a Scottish magician, warrior and poet
2. Clootie is a Scottish name for the devil. The name originated from the word cloot, which
mean a division in the cleft hoof of an animal.
3. Kelpie is a Scottish water devil who lurks in lakes and rivers and drowns its victims.
4. Scotia is a goddess normally portrayed as an old hag with the tusks of a wild boar
5. Sidhe (Shee) is the Gaelic name for fairies in the Highlands of Scotland and also Ireland.
6. Boodrie is a wonderful water-bird from the Highlands. It haunts and protects the lakes
and wells.
7. Red Cap is a sort of short, stocky old guy with long gray hair and claws instead of hands
and fingers. He lives on the Scottish border and guard the ancient ruins of castles
Categories:
wid, adventure, fantasy, funny, happiness,
Form:
Ballad
Written in Scottish dialect.
Jack, Bernard and John, the Bandit Kings,
Hae handicaps wae too high.
Each o’ them score four points a hole,
Ah canna tell ye a lie!
Me, ah’m Rabbie, the bard o’ the course;
Ah’m lucky tae score yin point.
Ah feenish the game an’ come in fur a jar,
ma boadies awa’ oot o’ joint.
Jack, Bernard and John, coont up the scores,
Tae see which yin o’ them’s won.
Me ah look doon at ma pitifu’ caird.
"Nae guid wi’ a hunner an’ one."
Bernard says, "Jack what have you scored?"
In his posh Yorkshire dialect tone;
Jack’s lingo is great at a rugby club bash
But no’ sae guid oan the phone.
The Caverley Poond is played doon the last,
The lowest net score scoops the lot:
They’ve aw hit great drives right doon the middle;
Noo they wait for a shoat frae the Scot!
Ah dinna let them doon, ah’ve duffed ma ba’,
It’s flown fifty yairds, nae mair;
Ah tak’ oot ma five wid an’ gie it a heave
An’ they aw begin tae stare!
The ba’ flies superbly, as tho’ it had wings
An’ sails richt intae the hole!
Ah’m happy ah’ve taken these bandits doon,
At last ah’ve achieved ma first goal!
The moral o’ this tale is keep yer sporran zipped up
Dinna let them see a wee groat:
They’ll hatch oot a plan tae help themselves
Tae aw the shillin’s ye’ve goat!
Categories:
wid, friendship, funny, sports
Form:
Verse
Injeck evey POD a dad pluckin' bird
Wid a quote a chow-chow seasonne
Led id sid in dem fridge
(Fo tree whole day, sha!)
You god dad fry-pot on da poach?
FAAR id up an po in dad stuff
Heed dis ere PEA-nut orle bout tree fitty
(Taak almos a dhaam hour!)
Led dad big-boy fraa til it GOL-brown
(Don WOORY, it gid all da way done!)
Oooh-wee! Dem smell ghoood!
Whad you gon use a KNIFE fo?
Id fall rhaad apard in dem finger...
(Khepp yo fithy HAN off mha tuckey!!)
***If you've never had fried turkey, you don't know what you're missing...
Categories:
wid, food,
Form:
Light Verse
Long have me feet walked..bare upon de earth of mother Afreeca.
Days, passing in a flow’r chain round de brow of de morn.
De sacred drum calls wid de heart beattin of de Hougan’s soul
Afreeca’s soul ...
Long, long, de walkin from village mounta’n citie
to the hounfour ... de temple of de people.
We walk joy’us, and penit’nt and pleadin‘.
Mama carries de food gift fer Ogou Balanjo on her head,
corn meal she ‘as ground fine. "Ah, de poor sick child"
De glass beads aroun‘ Mama’s neck shine
like her tears in de sun an de sweat on her skin.
We ‘ear de rattlin‘ and de drummin.
Dust of de many feet rises.
'undreds and thousands of worshipers pack de square
in front of de temple and dance red, gold, orange swirl
honorin‘ our parents and der parents.
Long, long, we dance, we dance, and de Loa arrive ...
Mama falls possessed by Ogou Balanjo ...
De white robes of de pure at heart, and does wid de white faces
dance de prayers, de priests returns from de sacred grove
white rock, egg white of wealth and happiness
de year will be good ... de sick child will heal ...
Long, long, the world has spun in a daisy chain
Around de sun............
Categories:
wid, caregiving, childhood, dance, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
Boxing match in Patois
de warm blood splash on me face
me was startle
wid de blood all over
de place
me lookin out for police
man
but is legal (no disgrace)
ding dong de bell go wild
all dey people like a child
dem
shoutin and dey take dey booze
dey hit anyone dey choose
me get up to go, no want dey
boxin show, no more dance around the ring
to do dey blood splashing ting
me short,me glove,me tie-up shoe
up to attic dey all go
me boy no more dey boxing dude
now dey rum and pot of food
Categories:
wid, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
it was not a long time ago story when we have met
it was not a long time ago when we have shared our stories
we have never thought of loosing our dignities when we opened up and chat..
time has managed to met our two worlds like it bries..
we cherished our memories down the lane..
we laughed at our likings and made it more insane
we thought of getin ourself mould to our loved songs of i thnk coldplay..
time has also make it melodious as like somone will be in pain..
we also givin each other reality checks to make image clear..
we have been into touch with each other just like it was meant..
suddenly the fog has arrived like in any other story and all disappear..
time has changed d situation but its you who has tapd it to decant..
after a while u came up with ur funny lies and mocked around..
its funny to saw u like that and makin me fool again like its sound..
there is no hope in me trustin you blindly again..
dts how i can teach you the lesson of love n now to refrain...
dere were times whn i feel like havin u back again..
my heart was weak dts why it was calin ur name..
since when i have told u to move on but d pain remain..
time has nevr been same until it was meant to be framed...
love pari
if u likd d poem or if didnt ...just put ur input wid cmnts....i wud love to observe dt..
Categories:
wid, emo,
Form:
Romanticism
SOUP RAP
You can pass me the biscuits, get a chicken from the coup
An give me a bowl of poetry soup
Since I schmoozed wid da muse an I started to write
It’s sure given me a real big appetite
Cos until last year I ain't never writ a poem
From my brain to my fingers didn't know which way I’m goin
But I now got da buzz, verses poppin hip hoppin
I'll keep on 'til they tell me it's time to be stoppin
We got poems that are sad we got poems that are glad
We got poems that say 'why you treatin me so bad!'
We got poems that are tough we got poems that are gentle
Poems so sentimental that they drive me nearly mental
Poems written in a purple haze alcoholic
Poems written in a field - pastoral and bucolic
See I'm learnin to be lit'rate usin good words not obscene
Words like pastoral an' bucolic whatever they mean
So gimme dat soup from the big tureen
Diip my pen in the saurus if you know what I mean
When the words are plated I’ll be re-stim-u-lated
And my verses contemplated be appre-ci-ated
So put your hands in the air all you poetry soupers
Get it on, solid gone, you da troupers souper douper
Categories:
wid, humor,
Form:
Rhyme