The egg said to the bacon
“What is wrong with you?”
“You arrive with such a fuss and a splatter”
“All the eggs are wondering just what could be the matter?”
The Bacon replied with a sigh
“What is wrong with you?
“You lie there, serenely, with no fuss nor hint of a splatter”
“All the bacon is confused about why nothing matters.”
The egg supplied this retort
“I don’t see the problem.”
“Why can’t we just lie here with grace?”
“And accept the inevitability that we all must face”
The bacon responded, quite annoyed
“Right there. That’s the problem.”
“Why would you accept your demise with grace?”
“And miss an opportunity staring you right in the face”
The egg, getting hot with wonderment, stated
“I’m still not convinced”.
“I fail to see the point of the fuss and the splatter.”
“None of this can save me. None of it matters.”
” The bacon, heating up with resolution, countered
“Mr. Egg, be convinced!”
“There is a warning attached to the fuss and the splatter.
“If it saves one strip of bacon, then it matters”
Although I do believe that ET was a very good movie,
I'm not convinced that there are aliens anywhere out there.
I believe that earthlings are now bound by the Law of Gravity.
I believe in what the Bible teaches about an event called RAPTURE.
I believe that Christians will be 'CAUGHT UP' at God's appointed time.
I believe that God has mysteries and scrolls yet unfolded and unrevealed.
The last trumpet will sound, and Christians will be, not beamed up like ET,
but changed momentously. Defying gravity, RAPTURE will be our exit mode.
The masquerade ball is fun for all
This was said by my master, in a voice not small
I was not convinced as she stuffed me into a collar
I looked like a the biggest clown in Gentleman’s holler
My cousin Jeffery was dressed up in a costume too
Why do we have to do this? He asked our cousin Lou.
Just go along, she said, it’s only one night of the year.
This might turn into a regular trend though, is what I fear.
First it is Halloween, then in November they dress us up like a turkey.
In December we’ll be snowmen. What is next? Asked Lurky.
Lurky’s voice of reason made us all tear off our silly outfits.
We chased each other out the door after tearing them to bits.
A TIME FOR US
I loved her more than any girl
I saw before or since.
I wanted us to marry
But she was not convinced.
She told me we were much too young
And, although we might one day,
She was off to university
Two hundred miles away.
There will be a time for us,
She promised at the station,
As she climbed aboard and left me
To three years of frustration.
But, at the university,
She discovered boys galore;
Far more than our village
That had only three or four.
She met an undergraduate
Who swept her off her feet
And, on the day she married him,
My misery was complete.
And so there was no time for us;
I’d read the signs all wrong.
I don’t watch West Side Story now
Because of that haunting song
There’s nothing up my sleeve
Nor inside my old hat
But here inside this bag
Is more than something that…
Is not quite typical
For a first date, but oh well
About what seems to some
As a bag from hell
But no that’s not the case
For hell is not the place
That has filled this edgy bag
That seems so out of place
But she is not convinced
I’m now an outsider
As she dismisses me
And my bag of spiders
As unfit for a queen
But that’s not whom I seek
I just want to share life with
Someone who loves to seek
Nature in all its ways
Be it flowers, dirt, or cider
Until then, while seeking love
I’ll bring my bag of spiders
I have a little greenhouse
It sits wobbly on the hill
Constructed from a kitset
Requiring monumental skill
A 40 page instruction book
Said it was a simple task to do
But I was not convinced
That this was entirely true
A fragile aluminium frame
Held with 500 fiddly screws
Was a testing of my patience
To see how many I would lose
The polycarbonate sheets
Fragile and light as fine chiffon
Flew off in the slightest breeze
Before I could attach them on
'Two hours of construction'
Is all the time you need, they say
But let me tell you, that's a lie
Because it took three days
Then in the first nor'easter storm
It collapsed, negating all my labours
The walls were in the paddocks
And the door was at the neighbours
Now it's badly taped together
And held down with bungy cord
So far so good, fingers crossed
We get some vege as a reward!
empty words without meaning
words mumbled for mere formality
lost in rolling endless echoes
we understand the game
and agree it's nothing personal
just filler to mask the silence that besets us
so we erect tall fences, add padlocks
and answer the knock of only the rare few
we keep it formal so not to muddy waters
how do you do? is not a question
our fine means I don’t want to talk
or I’m not convinced you care
don’t you see how we’ve become blasé
or maybe just maybe we need to better
recognize those pauses of genuine concern
so a how do you feel? becomes
a how do you feel about me?
because I care and we can be friends
AP: Honorable Mention 2023, Honorable Mention 2023
The old haunted mansion was open for guests now.
I talked my man into it. “It will be a wow!”
He was not convinced but agreed if he could bring a TV.
Of course, you can, I said. Whoop Dee Dee Dee Dee.
We were met by a butler with a long hard face.
He said, “Welcome to this annoyingly haunted place.”
His attitude had much to be desired.
But his participation was not truly required.
The ambiance was scary and strange.
There was a touch of hostility, a bit of derange.
I was getting ready to fold myself into my excited Halloween head.
Until I noted the insanity of our Dracula’s bed.
Oh, heck no, I immediately told my man.
I ran away as fast as a mother of six can fill a garbage can.
He stayed there, in that crushed velvet bed.
But never came home, the frightened storyteller said.
In order to fully realize and activate your inner child
You must put your minds aside
Your reptilian mind and your cognitive mind
If you want to be fully self-actualized and enlightened
I stared at the soothsayer, but kept my mouth shut.
My minds were both running in all kinds of directions.
I know what I speak of, he assured me. I was not convinced.
Maybe we have different ways of obtaining enlightenment.
My path might be totally devoid of ignoring my minds.
My feelings laughed in my ear.
Believing he knew more than I did.
My muse began to hum and dance.
That’s the first step he told me.
You are on the right path.
Perhaps I ought to publish my position
(as if there's anyone disposed to care!):
I'm not convinced that open competition
is profitable. Poets, self-aware,
and full of self-esteem (as many are!)
increasingly seem disinclined to share
the fruits of midnight labour. From afar
(and I do not possess a crystal ball)
I think that I perceive a lowered bar:
requirements (this is just my judgement call)
to dress one's thoughts in rhythm or in rhyme
do not delight our writers. They appal.
We need not think of strictures as a crime.
Does discipline torpedo erudition,
or might it help us grasp at the sublime?
Do you remember Boris; back in 2020
A virus was about to break, yet people
None the wiser ' at first he said no real
Big stuff, along with Holland we should face it tough.'
he'd been briefed then by whitty..Dear oh
Dear, three weeks on the tone was changed
To science he'd listen.' Pray come again.?
He caught bad covid He got laid low, said
Once better I'm now immune, and his mask did throw..' Oh
Naughty boy the 'experts pounced' his new
Found freedom in public he renounced, the
Pharmacy groups, exhaled a sigh' cash was
Flowing newscasters cried.' Children scared
Playgrounds closed, £8000 per covid death nhs
Were paid, so back to today He's waving bye
But what was truth? and were there lies? well
Rules and parties We've heard of much, but I'm
Not convinced (that it was such) such a scandal
If You'll look through the list of events think of
Cummings and Flemming too train rides at large
And lovers under cover they knew the game
Then dear sisters and brothers.'
One of us will be the winner,
it could be you.
You get the big house with its walled-in acres.
You get the perfect genes and stay healthy
and good-looking all your long life.
You get the recognition you deserve
or do not deserve but you succeed.
You have the perfect family
the luck, the inherited wealth.
Then again you may be just good
at being you, and you made it
because you worked hard to win
and you did.
I have no envy.
I should like to try being you,
but for now
being me is not so much a loss.
I am not convinced that winning
is winning, or to lose is to lose.
Nevertheless,
one of us is winning,
it could be you.
lying's only a short term solution ~ truth's a lifelong persuasion
By
David Kavanagh
I am not convinced a global reset is what we need
Or how it might be evinced, considering our creed
A selfish world unwilling to seek compromise, though,
Is not likely to quickly change the prized status quo
Or even consider the perspective of different cultures
More likely to gobble up the less elite like vultures
The idea of a One World leader is as old as the Greeks
Still most “civilized” people refuse to turn their cheeks
Most of the world’s population are doing rather well
Better if they live in a country like ours, do tell….
THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written June 10, 2021
for "Global Reset 21" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Joe Maverick
Boko haram terrorists
Times without number
A neighbourhood unsettling with a bomber,
Their grabbed territories
Zones of a thousand worries!
A people in panic
Piteously plan their escapes route,
Their pursuers, a manic,
Who must them funnily shoot!
It’s a horizon of unthinkable sleep
And the digging of graves not decently deep:
It’s a constant brandishing of a superior weapon
That precious lives make a lottery coupon.
North-East Nigeria to forever a story tell
That Borno was once a plain cell,
Each is increasingly a militant
Not convinced that innocent lives are important.
Excellent kidnappers they’ve got
And Suicide Bombers a lot:
It’s a pant welcoming an explosive,
Whose impact is a monster:
It’s wearer, an unbelievable youngster,
Obsessed with destructions, extensive.
Crazily, every Boko Haram
Takes non-adherent for a ram,
To readily his daughter
Slaughter and quarter
For a voiced and heard “Blood of Jesus”
What an Islamization of Nigeria
That should True Muslims anger in Algeria …
Related Poems