Long Miser Poems
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Watch the old miser now begin to cry,
Alongside his fancy mail-order queen,
Over the things that money cannot buy.
Wearing an expensive suit and red tie,
The evil king still appears on the screen -
Watch the old miser now begin to cry.
Asking the Electoral College why
There are so many states caught in between
Over the things that money cannot buy.
From his podium he always would lie,
And bribe his people with paper of green -
Watch the old miser now begin to cry.
There is no sense to even start to try
To guess which way some of the states could lean -
Over the things that money cannot buy.
Overseas, soldiers continue to die,
When this will stop is still yet to be seen.
Watch the old miser now begin to cry
Over the things that money cannot buy.
© 2020
Water and Gold
by Michael R. Burch
You came to me as rain breaks on the desert
when every flower springs to life at once,
but joy's a wan illusion to the expert:
the Bedouin has learned how not to want.
You came to me as riches to a miser
when all is gold, or so his heart believes,
until he dies much thinner and much wiser,
his gleaming bones hauled off by chortling thieves.
You gave your heart too soon, too dear, too vastly;
I could not take it in; it was too much.
I pledged to meet your price, but promised rashly.
I died of thirst, of your bright Midas touch.
I dreamed you gave me water of your lips,
then sealed my tomb with golden hieroglyphs.
Originally published by The Lyric
Recently made contact with a delightful new friend
A “new” friend relatively speaking
Known sweet Laura for quite some time
But lately her comments have been most intriguing
Strangely she finds my poetry appealing
A “straight from the hip” old miser
No big fancy lingo, no wasteful five syllable words
That you need a thesaurus to decipher
I owe this sweet lady a huge debt of gratitude
For her support and continued applause
Never once thought of myself as a real true poet
Only interested in the smiles they can cause
Well hopefully you will have guessed by now
The Laura is Laura Breidenthal
The sweetest true friend I have ever ever had
She's helped me realize my potential
So Laura dear Laura, I send you my heart
I offer it with no strings attached
It's yours to do with as your heart desires
My love for you is totally unmatched
Recently made contact with a delightful new friend
A “new” friend relatively speaking
Known sweet Laura for quite some time
But lately her comments have been most intriguing
© Jack Ellison 2015
Beckoning forward, then muting purpose with placid expression;
Courting favor, but scorning gratuity with nobler accession.
Reconnoitering all, yet countenancing none in stolid derision;
Regaling commoners, but transcending all menial patronization.
Subtle smile endears, but spurns all gratification;
Distant stare, onerous repression or dark depression?
All encompassing view, mistrusting miser or prating courtesan;
Stoic posture, exalted position or callous condition?
Frugal appearance, an inner recession or outward confession;
Folded arms, trite convention or cultivated abstention?
Enshrouded by cumbersome shadows or serene accommodation;
Transfixed, eternal matron; or transparent, antiquated apparition?
DATE: November 1, 2010
Contest: Why oh Why
Sponsored by Constance~ A rambling poet
by: Stephen Parker
Form:
The exaltation of the spirit reflects through all beauty,
making ones virtue standing against all vices so groovy.
The poor spirit or guilty conscience numbs the integrity,
those guilty of the same fault unite in making a virtue in that security.
Not until sobriety after the intoxication of life, the wonder begins,
and life itself becomes a scripture to the kindled soul margins.
The miser celebrates any generosity with trumpets fanfare,
reason is the master of the unbeliever and the servant believers being aware.
Faith reaches what reason fails to touch,
absorbed personality in that art becomes art itself so much.
Like the ultimate creator is hidden in his own creation,
gifts of compassion become the value of priceless cessation.
Every desire in life has its answer to survive,
the heart shell in which the pearl of sincerity is the thrive.
The failing of individuality turns to the identification in the group,
the rhythmic expression of an idea in a loop.
All that one holds is conserved,
then all that entire one let’s go of, is dispersed.
Oh beloved ideal one chases through time,
echoes of laughter much later therein.
Belief is the breath of the believer and sustenance,
the dignity in nature springs out of caring governance.
To distinguish between the real and the unreal,
arrives at the point when all becomes the moment true seal.
Pain is falling. Into your arms; pain is calling. Answer me! Pain says. Pain says jump. Anguish says how high sir. And the sky's the limit. It's right there. Here in your face; can you touch it? You cannot! Says Pain. Fear hides behind its stalker, awaiting wrath. Judgment withstood beside Pain and the verdict is in. GUILTY. Come again? GUILTY YOUR HONOR; sir. Bow down to Pain. Crumble beneath pains' ridicule and fall...Into Pain's arms. Snuggle with you? Pain will coddle you until you forget all of your dreams. Hope floats away. Bye bye hopes and—See you later those dreams.
Pain says never. Again we buckle under the pressure, of Pain. Hate hoards our love, collecting—An emotional miser of goodness sakes. Hate simply takes and hate takes...takes...but you just you wait...We have enough of our own strengths. We mustn't let hatred to take...take...take...
Fall out of love with this Hate...hate...out of love with this hate. Back in love with our fate. Knowing...I got what it takes...takes...I got what it takes...oh goodness my grace...put me back in my place and end this whole chase...whole place of this chase...Pain Pain go far far away. I say pain go away...Way...wait.
I need more than one plate. You all break with this slate. I'm done chalking up crapes.
I'm strong like an owl. And ya'll smell fairly foul. So times come to be towered. And I hoo hoo like an owl. Out of my circle, leave this powwow. I'm all over this now now. And Pain falls to the ground round; and...Hate trips on his towel. They both sit in time out now. Pain is gone now I'm falling—into grips with my calling. Reconnect with my family; and own up to ole' Sammy. Finally doing the damn thing. And this ending is happy. But don't let Pain gain way into your backseat. Life's a journey, don't call you the wrong taxi. Time has come, Pain go head try and get me, cannot catch me. Yes sir, (says Pain) just don't put me back into that taxi. I say that's right look right at me. When you speak talk about me. No more hate, pain is now but a memory. Hopes and dreams, love and family....Pain is falling—But not at me...
-end
8-29-17
Clutching the purse to her chest and the counting
She grabbed at the invisible hands and doubting
If it hadn't been one thing it would have been another
The greed put out the fire with smother
Greed, the great pacifier
Holding each coin close
Counting and counting over and over
The hiding place ever changing
A dog can never have enough bones to bury
The alcoholic and one glass of sherry
Snatching at fingers and to the comfort of the vault
A ski mask helps one not to be caught
One pacifier deserves another
Turning from the bank with her greed
Draws her purse to her chest
Maybe the freezer wrapped in foil
Holding each emotion and counting
Not a drop of water and the broken founting
Such a miser she won't pitch a penny for luck
Met her doctor at KMart for a nip and tuck
The Baby Queen strikes her rattle
As the basket is passed she puts in nothing
Always wanting to know where the next one comes
And the texture of each bill
Even Barbie held with the covet
Getting summons and the snub it
Ken wears only Gucci suits for his pleasure
Barbie holds each banknote with measure
In my minds eye surely it’s skewed,
But I can’t fish out the bad eggs from the shells,
The baby’s flushed down with the bathwater,
And I’m so utterly screwed.
Clean the seat, hide it beneath the fibres,
But still, there’s Scarcity, and Squalor beneath the gown,
I glance back to see if you’ve noticed
I need you to pull me back, and lead me to the cure for being a miser.
Is your flame so malleable, because mine keeps giving ,
You’re 10 times my age, Spirit, they’re all older,
But least resistance is the smoothest path,
So pity their thinly veiled tact of acting none the wiser.
The beauty’s all yours,
It’s in your eyes not mine.
It doesn’t reflect the light,
So I never got to be the beholder.
Tell me you’re concerned by our lack of knowledge,
But you didnt make that cut,
And where were you
During my four AM forage?
And now you’ve etched your memoirs into my brain; that’s a users manual.
An old pro, I’m a jack of this trade,
And you’re the master of the flies on the wall,
Prodding me whilst laying low.
You think you’re the knowing eyes in my kitchen,
Yet you ask me: is this hunger? Is this habit?
But we’re cut from different reams of cloth,
It isn’t even the same fabric.
I can’t complain I’m sheltered and fed
But this nagging ambition still builds in my head
Of what was written and what was said
Of a lonely road far from my bed
You don’t venture far tiny bird in the thicket
The home you mind is safe from the wicked
It’s a shame you can’t fly far away
And see all the cultures time built on its way
With the people of both peace and war
And the beauty of things in nature to adore
But your home is well kept and happy it seems
But what of your heart, your wishes and your dreams
I can’t feel shame it would make me weaker
About the wasted moments left to the meeker
The scoundrel in me keeps my heart from fever
But fever is wanted by my soul the dreamer
So tiny bird would you say you much wiser
The time you spend you count like a miser
Or is it that you take simple love in your day
In the little you make from the soil and the clay
Do the storms bother you at all little one?
Do the storms keep you hiding waiting for the sun?
I see the light is there in the weather so destructive
Are clouds to you renewal or counter productive?
I take it we differ in thought and song
Though I can no longer say yours is wrong
But I take from you a lesson - a lovely subtraction
In the happiness to be found in simple satisfaction
Sometimes life teaches you a lesson
Before you meet the right person.
It throws you around, shakes you up
And saddens you till you have no more tear drop;
Life takes away the thorn that may hurt your path
And replaces it with lawn grasses upon your earth.
Ofttimes wrong people makes you wiser,
To stop being nice, and become a miser;
As the sun yawns and wakes every day,
Experiences beckon you to come it's way.
Fret not, for pain only makes you stronger,
Whence you step on thorns no longer;
Gravel would never be gold I shoulda known,
Roses instead of "koriko lasan " I shoulda grown
But He let's you know when the time is come,
It's Time O' Clock for me to overcome.
#Alayinde #Niggyraslife # GaliDaPoet!