Best Winner Poems
I don’t know tic tac toe
so I rhyme this with flow,
showing Nick Nac knows
how to serve the perfect dose.
Measuring the rhymes
like I’m pleasuring the lines,
leisure for the minds
like I’m lemon and I’m lime,
1st and 2nd personalities
pushed to share realities,
combining combat and comebacks
as I incompetently rap,
you’re ripping me now
it’s a banter attack,
shyt but gripping somehow
as I pant and sound crap.
It’s another chicken dinner
from Mr Trim Trimmer,
not a rapper or a singer
but, a mother loving winner.
POTD 02/02/2019
As I walked into the banquet hall of the
Goodman’s Inn, the first thing that stood
out to me were the eyes of the people. I
felt as though I could actually see hope. Eyes
seemed to sparkle and everyone in the hall
sat talking to the others sitting around them
as they waited for the main course of the evening.
To understand this report we need to go back just
over a year ago when Lindsey Long won the 50
million dollar lottery. Apparently the multimillionaire
booked the Goodman’s Inn for December 24th through
to January 2nd of this year solely to house the homeless
over the Christmas holidays. Miss Long walked through
the streets herself over the last week inviting the
unfortunate homeless to come to the motel for these
festivities. Lindsey Long has not only provided the rooms
for this week, she also has clothed them with new
wardrobes and warm winter clothing and accessories.
Now as the people sat around the table they were
told Miss Long had an announcement. We all waited
to hear what this amazing lady had to say
and excitement filled the room. When this
beautiful young woman began to talk there
wasn’t one dry eye in the building. She told them
how she was not going to just send them back
on the street next week but how she had
built a new centre that would have sleeping
facilities and showers to accommodate all
of them. This new facility will be serving
three meals a day which will be prepared solely
from themselves on a voluntary bases.
The feeling in the Inn that night was pure joy
and as the people realized the impact of this
wonderful news, they all broke out singing
It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. This is
Rhonda Reeds reporting for
The Good Newspaper.
Merry Christmas everyone.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
11.12.2014
Sponsor Mystic Rose
The Good Newspaper
1st
In the twilight's golden glow,
Where the sighing breeze does blow,
A hushed song fills the tranquil air.
A melody that's beyond compare.
The trees sway in a graceful dance.
As the wind weaves its whispered romance,
Leaves rustling in rhythm, so serene,
Nature's orchestra, a living dream, keen.
The moonlight bathes the world in silver.
As stars twinkle, a celestial quiver
"The silent song of the sighing breeze"
Of love and longing across the seas,
Through valleys and mountains, it softly glides,
Bringing solace to hearts that have cried
In the stillness of the night's embrace,
The breeze's song paints a picture of grace.
Whispered melodies, gentle and true,
They speak of love, of hopes anew,
Of dreams that blossom under the moon,
And the promises whispered in lovers' tune.
In every rustle, in every sigh,
The breeze tells stories of days gone by.
Of lovers' kisses under starlit skies,
Of stolen moments and passionate ties.
It carries secrets from distant lands.
Whispered melodies from afar-off sands.
The hushed song of the sighing breeze,
Brings peace and comfort and puts hearts at ease.
*1
A pack of snarling wolves
baying for my blood.
Battered, bruised and bleeding
yet I won’t give up the fight!
Contest: Something with Great Impact
Sponsor Nette Onclaud
Jan Allison
20 words used
20th December 2015
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1224 Poetry Contest, Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Written: June 20, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Zealous
reflections
wrest my heart
humble
pitapatting
Honed
toward my ears
A thrum
glides
alone
Into a
scene
within
finger
tipped
firmed
curved
notes
Seeking each chord
of tempting harmony played
intimately in heartbeats among
the rivulets of a tempo step
Everything is felt in music
This happens as if holding
onto each note of my own life
Feeling harmonic vibrations
in deep resonating moods
of cool evenings on the patio
Crackling embers at a campfire
Voices recite songs held as would
become a tradition of simpler times of
childhood friendships grew together
Held as if we could hold onto moments
of hopes, of loves, of dreams. The stars
seemed to fall only as we looked away
Gained as one humble guitar absorbs
a night sky of improvised melodies
Each harmony found by instinct
by touch, by invisible sight
**********************
whispering leaves sway
crickets' chorus fills the night~
nature's lullaby
sun kisses meadows
nature's symphony soars high~
summer's dance unfolds
In times gone by, in a land of dreams,
Where childhood thrived with laughter and gleams,
A story unfolded, enchanting and true,
Of mirthful times and dreams that grew.
In a quaint little town, where joy ran rife,
There stood an ice cream truck, full of life.
With its jingling tune and colorful display,
It brought smiles and laughter every day.
Children flocked to its magical sight,
Their dreams bear flight, day and night.
With sticky fingers and faces beaming,
They tasted flavors, delicious and gleaming.
Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry delight,
Each scoop is a memory, pure and bright.
In that little town, under the summer sun,
The ice cream truck was where the fun had begun
From morning till dusk, they would gather around,
In eager anticipation of the sweetest sound.
The tinkling melody that filled the air,
Drawing them closer, without a care.
The children would form a queue, their eyes wide,
As the ice cream truck parked by the roadside.
They'd count their coins, their pockets emptied,
Hoping to indulge in the flavors they craved.
The ice cream man, with a smile so bright,
Served up scoops with all his might.
He knew each child's favorite treat,
And made sure their dreams were complete
With laughter and giggles, they'd savor each bite,
Their taste buds danced in sheer delight.
The ice cream truck became their halcyon place,
A sanctuary of joy, a sweet space.
And as the years passed, and childhood flew by,
A symbol of innocence and a carefree day,
Ice cream truck remained a cherished reminiscence
Where dreams were nurtured in the sweet existence.
Story Poem
Lyrics By Lin Lane
Seems like yesterday I watched your fingers
play the piano, and heard your music unfold.
In memories, the romantic vision of us lingers,
though love's symphony dulled like tarnished gold.
When we were together, you wrote for me,
songs you scored day and night to compose
of the passion between an oak and willow tree,
Lyrics sweet as the fragrant scent of a rose.
Chorus:
But your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
Tender notes on sheet music, ripped and torn.
No longer sung for they bring pain and grief,
stabbing me like a rose's sharpest thorn.
From loss of yesterday's passion there's no relief.
Can time erase the memories I fear won't fade?
Traces of us and what use to be linger in me.
I sway as if slayed by a dagger, and I'm afraid
that from the ghost of you, I'll never be free.
Chorus:
Your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
Grab that whimsey, don't wipe the blow.
The feeling, of fear, starts to grow
Creepy tendrils that dart around
In your head, they can't be bound
Unleash the power of your poetry,
That is what empowers the poet free.
Let it flow from heart to page,
And let your imagination rage.
Sunlight illuminates the abyss of my heart.
But gloom lurks, for betrayal shreds apart.
The simplicity that I used to consider dear.
Leaving me stranded and packed with fear.
An emptiness consumes my soul,
Yet an urge to write, to brand me whole,
To pour out my pain, my sorrow,
To find a glimmer of cheer for tomorrow.
My pen becomes my only friend,
As I strain to comprehend
The reasons behind the deceit,
The lies that brought me to defeat.
But in my words, I find a way,
To heal, to mend, carpe diem the day,
To rise above the welt and pain,
To find the light, to love again.
The valley of my heart may be scarred,
But with my pen, I can rebuild, discard
The darkness that once held me down,
And rise up, stronger, without a frown.
Stop resisting and start writing.
The pen is bleaker than the sword.
Each draw, each stroke, each sighting.
Unshackle the force of your words.
Written: June 14, 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 37 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
______________________________________________________________
Amidst the rolling hills and verdant green,
Lies a land of arcane, almost Xanadu if seen.
A place of ariose where dreams are born,
And the sun rises each day as an auric crown.
In this Elysian land, time seems to stand still.
Worries and troubles fade away, as if by will.
Here, one can find peace and tranquility.
The beauty of nature is its canorous serenity.
Glory in magenta and gold hues in the sky
The birds emit an opera of tunes as they fly.
The aroma of fresh flowers floods the air.
Trees soar high, their limbs rising in a blare.
Going upward, I have faith in my heart.
Through gloomy slopes and twisty parts.
The peaks are starting to come into sight.
Their tops were aurified with golden light.
I wander through this nebulous land of bliss.
And fathom a sensation of perspicuous peace.
I realize that I have embedded my idyllic place,
An oasis of diaphanous passion and grace.
Almost akin to Xanadu, an island of dreams.
It motivates me with whispered schemes.
The seal of the blessing of a utopian paradise
A realm where loveliness is eternal never dies.
California Chrome’s bid for a triple crown was a no-go.
He didn’t win, he didn’t place. He didn’t even show.
The owners of the horse were hoping to pop the cork
at the Belmont Raceway in New York.
Down the drain went the hope for history with fortune and fame.
Many said the horse that won the Derby and the Preakness was not the same.
Loads of betters were disappointed. What a shame!
No thanks to another horse by the name of “Tonalist”,
another bid for a triple crown winner was missed.
Nobody will ever see me at the race tracks rambling.
No matter how you look at it, it’s still considered gambling.
Everyone's a Winner
They told me I was remarkable
and now it's plain to see
There is nothing extraordinary
about simple little me
All the ribbons I have hanging
Upon the shelf so high
They said I was a winner
all I had to do was try
It wasn't about competition
Every child was told to have fun
They said we were the very best
Each child born to be number one
So out in the world they sent me
Unequipped for what I'd find
With the legend of my accomplishments
sadly this illusion was In my mind
No one was there to help me
The competition was far too real
It felt like other were driving the bus
Even though I was behind the wheel
Let your children know failure
So they can learn to compete
In a world of winners and losers
They'll learn to think on their feet
For adversity leads to greatness
Each loss will point to a win
If I already think I am a winner
What reason do I have to begin
In an age of no grades and trophies for every kid, we are losing our risk takers. We can't insulate our children from what lies ahead. It is a competitive world and we are sewing the seeds of failure. I know there are many young people who don't fall into this category and they are the ones who will drive innovation and growth.
At the beach in your bikini
blowing off those also-rans
you posture in your playful way
with Gucci sunshades and
the latest Grisham novel.
At the gala you're exquisite
in your slinky cocktail dress.
Simple, black, short and sexy,
you shimmer like a morning mist,
the chandeliers are dancing in your eyes.
At the condo in your nightgown,
(the antithesis of sex),
tucking in the kids
and softly singing them to sleep,
you're Wonder Woman in your plastic curlers.
I know I have the best,
without a doubt, it's true,
whatever outfit you put on,
my 'winner' still is you!
I owned a racehorse that was renowned,
as only fit to be knackery bound,
bit it’s not a disgrace,
for it won its first race -
although inside the gut of a greyhound.