Tried writing stuff of a serious nature
Just knew it wasn't for me
Dabbled a bit but I just couldn't hack it
A humorist is all I'll be
It's not exclusive, still write about love
Some about conflict and war
But I'd rather write about a sorry dude
Slipped on a banana peel and swore
Don't call me Burns or Shelley or Keats
Prefer ones that make me cackle
Guess you could call me low brow poet
Causing one's tail to waggle
Was born with a silver spoon in my mouth
Fortunate when so many struggle
Don't call me down, it wasn't a choice
Much like the law of the jungle
The luck of the draw, whatever you call it
Really didn't have much of a say
I was truly a product of World War II years
Still happy to this very day
Hippy, could I say? Or rogue, rascal or roughneck?
Who, his and lives of others, does knowingly wreck;
These are 'born with a silver spoon in the mouth', sure,
In their mind and heart, yet, are these noble and pure...?
Though looked respectable, in verity, spoiled brats,
They hide from honesty like rats from frenzied cats;
Magnificent meals they majestically host,
As though accomplishing austere missions they boast...!
Wreckage, sabotage, torment, torture, loot and kill,
Watching others dying inch by inch - is their thrill;
Fighting against the good, is like playing football,
Their hearts never melt seeing severest death toll...!
As any association that gets started,
With principles noble and goodness wholehearted;
Bullingdon Boys too had objectives virtuous,
Living of which gradually grew arduous...!
17 March 2023
Bullingdon boys Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Mikail Ivanovich Glinka
fountain head of musical Russia
Born with a silver spoon
bel canto a favoured tune
“I suggest we break the ice”, the interloper said.
I began chopping with a snow axe, and she laughed.
You must have been born with a silver spoon, she threw out.
I threw the snow axe at her; irritated she had called it a spoon.
She ducked, as cool as a cucumber.
I was irritated now.
“I’ve got your number,” she told me.
I had no idea how she had gotten it.
“I was not born yesterday,” she added.
I knew from her wrinkles she was not lying.
“This is as easy as ABC,” she said. “You are transparent.”
I was not a happy camper now, she was getting under my skin.
“Hold your horses,” I told her. “You are coming on too strong.”
“You’ll be in hot water if you continue egging me on like this.”
She laughed. “Let me put a bug in your ear,” she said.
“Hot water is something I do best after falling through a hole in the ice.”
Washing the sleep off my face, at me the sun smiled;
Telling me it’s a brand new day
A bright young day, a foot to start a mile
And to gather my tools and make some hay
Washing the dirt off my feet, my dreams jumped beguiled;
Beamed with great expectancy, my joys aloft
Enough strength to keep my hopes revived
And to full up my hayloft
Yet in my high spirits;
Sometimes I feel scared and down
I see my dreams split
And my hopes seem to drown
Cause unlike them my path is rough and muddy;
I know how that woman, my mama she tries
Ploughing the fields yet tough and droughty
And drenching up her purse, tearfully she cries
Washing the sleep off my face, patiently awaits my journey;
I was not born with a silver spoon and neither will I be pushed on a gurney
So with this mindset I set my mind
That no matter where my dream is, deeper will I mine.
Many are born with a silver spoon in the mouth
Some are just not happy of their birth
If one rightly thinks of how time flies in south
You will be grateful for thy breath
Keeping all hope only in enjoyment
Is a scam to blindfold one into over thinking
Possibly getting heart ready for deployment
To how his time could kick the bucket and go shrinking
Leave aside the shadow of thy former self
And wear your heart on your sleeve
Then you will joyfully swing the tough
Count your blessings and joys you will retrieve
Heart rejoices to the piece of cake at hand
Than the birds in bush, so show gratitude's grand
And everyone's chance of receiving more will expand
Ivory tower dweller;
born with a silver spoon
in his mouth.
He's used to riding
the lofty coattails
of his tycoon father
Selfish,
arrogant
and self-centered,
he expects people
in his life to go
the extra mile to keep
his life "comfortable"
When they fall short,
he treats them
like chopped liver.
He's convinced himself
the world owes him
something.
Date written: 06/04/2021
I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth.
I'm thankful for that.
I know the value of a dollar.
Everything I have I've had to earn myself.
I'm thankful for that.
I have a reason to hold my head up and be proud of my accomplishments.
I was born, raised and live in a free society.
I'm thankful for that.
I take for granted freedoms others only dream of.
I was raised to be charitable and to help others.
I'm thankful for that.
Otherwise I might look down on those less fortunate than myself.
I was taught not to be cruel and uncaring.
I'm thankful for that.
I could have become a very unkind person.
I am not wealthy. I work hard for everything I have.
I'm thankful that I can.
I'm thankful for good health, my job, my home, my car and all that I call mine.
I was raised to know there is a Creator and that He loves me and wants me to know Him. He already knows me.
And I'm Thankful For That.
Instead, I Choose To Honor And Then Gift
Yet another poem, yet another blog
On and on with my poetry I jog
Not to insult others or to degrade
Those with creative creations thus made
Instead, I choose to honor and then gift
Poems given to all and so uplift
Poets and other readers as a boon
Be they poor or born with a silver spoon.
I must ask why world's angst and such ire
Attempts by some to light a burning fire
We as poets post that which our hearts write
Wonder why some seek to make that a fight
Is not this world already sad and dark
Without some few setting another spark
Alas! The old saying is very true
Some live only to attack me or you.
Yet another poem, yet another blog
On and on with my poetry I jog
Not to insult others or to degrade
Those of creative creations thus made
Instead, I choose to honor and then gift
Poems given to all and so uplift
Poets and other readers as a boon
Be they poor or born with a silver spoon.
Robert J. Lindley, 7-09-2020
Rhyme,
( poem dedicated poets, those oft attacked for simply writing poetry )
from my blog posted.
This silly man needs some cheering up
Really don't get it, the sun's my pick-me-up
Things are in tune
Born with a silver spoon
Then why am I carrying such a grudge
We were sisters, but more like Cinderella and the ugly sister variety ...
and of course you always made me feel like I am the ugly one!
I’ve done so much for our parents for years
but you got all the glory ... and the privileges
A house, private college education, a car
Enough money to open a bank!
You weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth
More like a solid gold coal shovel!
Everything I own I’ve worked my butt off to get -
holding down 5 part time jobs to buy my first car
I appreciate every single thing we own
You’ve lived on benefits for over 30 years
Oh and of course of bank of mummy and daddy
Yet when dad died
You lied and cheated and only thought of ME ME ME
Perhaps you should get an Oscar for your performance!
Believe me I wouldn’t swap places with you for the world
Forgiveness feels like a rotted grave ... you can rot in yours forever
Free verse only Contest Sponsored by Laura Loo
6/3/18
Ample wealth of man
Has been passed down through bequest
Or inheritance.
With none in my infant's mouth, I was born
Even though a big silver spoon I craved
Of an affluence, I was left quite forlorn
Hence, contentment without the spoon I craved
For myself, a black wooden spoon I made
Spooning my mouth with every contentment
Said I then to my heart: 'good it's self-made'
Oh! I love the darkness, my excitement
In my tea cup, there was a stubborn storm
To break my spoon it gladly desired
With a strong resistance and great reform
Courageously said my spoon: 'you're fired'
The stubborn storm it calmed, where art the loon?
So adorable! My black wooden spoon
N.B: I have used 'my black wooden spoon' as a metaphor for contentment.
Stanza 1 expresses my wish to be born with a silver spoon in my mouth (I.e to be born rich)
Stanza 2 expresses my self-discipline, diligence and contentment since I wasn't born rich.
Stanza 3 expresses that there are trying times difficult to deal with.
Stanza 4 expresses how contentment calms covetousness especially if one is a loon.
Is it luck or fate that carry you thru?
Do you always win, whatever you do?
Do you fail no matter how hard you try?
Does that drive you to question, and ask why?
Some people are born with a silver spoon
Others are born in a crowded dank room
While one is handed their path to succeed
Others pushed back by poverty and greed.
It’s not fate or karma, tho some think
Or dumb luck that brings you to the brink
But I say, ditch that dark cloud overhead
Vow to build yourself a new path instead.
Luck can be had with determination
But life is grounded in education!
A Silver Spoon
In my mouth was not born with a silver spoon
So God when you take me to heaven soon
To many facts I must become resigned
Hardly anything have I ever left behind.
One is wife who I love through and through
Who was always faithful to and then true
Children who to us from God had been born
And each came to us on an early morn.
Numerous friends behind will also leave
Yet still knowing in God I should believe
Knowing in my life what was meant for me
From all earthly things will set us all free.
On earth are material things all around
While God's love is there and does surround
Us all as we shall start to see His open door
Which will be way to heaven forevermore .
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran, Poet and
Member of Board of Vestry
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