Oh, let us write of finer things
of stupid songs our leaders sing
perchance a word of climate’s rage
of private planes for traveling sage
or better yet the planets health
while stripping it of all its wealth
but nay, t’would seem a bit uncouth
we’re they to tell the friggin’ truth
for both the sun and moon abide
in lover’s quarrel o’er the tide
the bees are humming in their hives
while we plug in the cars we drive
If God had said “all men are equal”
I doubt that He’d enjoy this sequel
As both teams claim unyielding faith
they turn their backs on the homeless wraith
Unless, of course, there’s an I-phone near
And an edited clip that they can share
Why not stay home, stifle that shout
And in November…VOTE THEM OUT
when a flower designer
nothing ever is finer
eye has a shiner
It's funny the simple pleasures recounted in life
all manner of wonders reminisced I'll miss most..
though list grows shorter with each passing day
thoughts align in proper time as desires sway
storm bent trees, sunsets, a child's laughter,
and chicken salad on toast.
To be true others may find want of finer things.
fancying first class flight or latest in 'lectric cars,
refined tastes in Nanterre brioche or imported caviars
yet never replace good company a heart brings.
As winter closes, and spring finds its way home,
eternally grateful for all new pleasures won
give thanks warm day's return in rising and setting sun
yet alone, to bygone days my thoughts may roam.
Yeah, there'll always be chicken salad and sunsets..
perhaps a slice of keylime pie or two.
When I look back to a wonderful past,
what I'll miss most
is you.
Once denied the finer things in life
admitted to aesthete's circles
Be the concert snare drum and fife
the curtain perceived ~ royal purple
Come, let us together consider the finer things
Like mystical pyramids and fringed silk scarves
Stones that bring comfort to the aching bone
Intricate ebony statues the lonely man carves,
A secluded stroll through a shaded pine grove
The glimmer of a blue diamond in natural light,
Warm feelings borne of proud accomplishment
A billion stars shining in far galaxies in the night.
Whispered words of love under the firmament,
Wonder of the senses, feelings, touch, and sight
Intricacies of a threadlike web brown spider wove,
Cool mists that bathe the worn Mississippi wharves
Scoops of frozen custard piled high on sugar cone
A fine restaurant neither can afford, going halves,
Enraptured by intricate trills the coloratura sings.
EIGHTH PLACE WINNER
written April 25, 2022
[Verso-Rhyme]
submitted to Brian Strand Premier Contest
sponsored by Brian Strand
The finer things in life are not diamonds and pearls
But desire a good reputation and the principled life.
Think about it, my friend, not all of those glitzy girls
Are ultimately as desirable as a faithful, loving wife.
But desire a good reputation and the principled life,
Cherishing virtue well-obtained is quite satisfying,
Are ultimately as desirable as a faithful, loving wife
Knowing you’re grounded you’ll find most gratifying.
Cherishing virtue well-obtained is quite satisfying
When you are taking stock of your goals in life,
Knowing you’re grounded you’ll find most gratifying
Like living peacefully with others, eschewing strife.
When you are taking stock of your goals in life
Think about it, my friend, not all of those glitzy girls
Like living peacefully with others, eschewing strife,
The finer things in life are not diamonds and pearls.
Written March 17, 2022
White skin wins in White Territory
With its ever celebrated White History;
The West wielding its Western Mandamus,
Not bothered that I’m no ignoramus.
White skin flourishes in the White World,
Where it sits like a Final Word:
Judges with their Stylish Neutrality
Their whistle blasting a Fair Partiality.
White Skin remains epidermal Snow,
Scarcely telling skin rashes “No”
Freely awarding each publicity
and for this promoting losing docility.
Indisputably lighter in color
But – Alas _ easily gets duller,
As the wearer fatefully gets older
Or the sun rays, its determined folder…
So is white skin finer than black?
Former and latter to not walk a track?
In Openness does black slack
But the White’s Openness wires it a whack!
Feeling influences
conception,
conception influences
action...
Action influences life...
So that we must always cultivate
best feelings,
For well living!
My Finer Days Always
I have traveled far, shore to shore,
from Hawaii to that of Maine,
Florida's fun, to northwest rain,
some of my finer days of yore.
My choice of work hailed me further,
a people person came to be,
The White House to queens, all met me,
rock and film stars, days of finer.
Be certain that downs and ups dwell,
with family forward my ways,
parties, birthdays, be wedding days,
those finer hours, plus somber knell.
Day's I spent be times I borrow,
wakes, save me, a finer morrow.
2020 September 27
Fastidious gildings must dot your mien:
Sizzling lips that ooze unbridled charm,
And a neck sleekest with angelic luster
To daze the eye and sun a smitten arm.
Still deeper graces beyond corporeal eye
Shall your gold’s stoutest bulwarks prove:
A mind pliable into another’s loftier ideal,
A heart malleable to wit’s forging groove.
A full stock of sly eccentricities to baulk
Pert overstepping darts round the clock;
And a placating vocular chime that tells
Time’s tick better than poor-piping bells.
A hope that dares azure's illest signs;
Turning gaffes into leaps onto higher
Insights purer than filtered science,
Dwarfing Fate and her fiendish fire.
And shall all these bejeweled traits
Sure lie within one maiden’s tastes,
And finally match the magic gleams
Of that fairy gal I see in my dreams?
Comparisons are unerring things at worst;
Every common ore yielded for shinier gold,
And tepid junkets given up in apt forfeiture
For tolerably pricier carats unsullied stored.
Far less treasured lots perpetually stand
In shrouded paths to more pleasing deal,
And more often than not emit lures bland
To fade jollities owners of finer gems feel.
Prudent choosers are harder to hoodwink;
They're grateful to know how to swiftly tell
Vast variance between wee penny's worth
And huger wads quiet past old minas' kink.
They're merrier types closer to Midas lips;
Smarter-thinking pickers noted with strips
Of fair Fortune's higher turns beyond taste,
Loftier than Fancy's dreams and her haste.
With comparative logic one never can err,
Since brighter minds cheap choices abhor.
There was a time
I saw my mother's hands and
noticed quite a difference
between hers and mine
hers were fine
soft and smooth
with lovely nails, refined
While mine-
so rough and dried
no lotion could soothe or hide
the blisters and the callouses
while hers were fit for palaces
mine were like a scullery maid's
accustomed to hard work
I often thought looking at her
that we must have been made
of different stuff
for even though
she was a simple woman
no frills or fluff
she seemed somehow
to be made of finer clay
Like porcelain-
delicately enchanting
but prone to chips and cracks
while I, more like a
sturdy stoneware
strength and durability
making up
for what I lacked
I never knew just how true
this was until she died
never realized just how fragile
she really was, because
she was the vessel
that originally
carried me
Champagne kisses and caviar dreams these are a few of my favorite things
butler to pick up my phone when it rings
parakeets to sing to me
service at the snap of my fingers
the finer things in life are often exotic splendors
far off the smell of old bones rust in rains of gold
take off your glasses
shards of dimes blind bright eyes
look at the moon
full tonight pregnant with life
look at it, then tell me money is the only thing that makes you happy, honey.
If I were the fairest and finest of all the finer
Could about myself come up with a crazy one liner?
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
We wake up every day with the realization that we're waiting to die
Life is short, depression is long
I guess that's what makes us writers and poets, to escape the fear others have of the our time we have
We as writers and poets and people of prose see the beauty in tragedy, we have seen love with our own eyes
We have felt it
there is love after death
That's what keeps us going
Because when we die, our writing will live on forever
Our writing can be a whole different world for someone else
It can inspire, and change lives
Writers, poets, people of prose, We will live on forever in the finer things club.
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