The promise of 2026
It is beginning with the capture of Maduro
totally illegal, but normal for a criminal America
The Venezuelan elite has taken the golden coins
selling out their country for a few shillings more
Honesty does not count in a world ruled by greed
The people of Europe have a stark choice to join
Thieves and the corrupt vote them into office
and hope pocket money will fall their way
The dream of equality and justice is a dream
The poor are useful idiots who believe what
The wealthy say and are fooled again and again
To survive, we have to join the criminals
Certainly no coward was Bob Cratchit
scrapping together fifteen shillings, a measly bit
a dear family man, meek but not bleak
putting Scrooge to shame, driving miser to seek !
~~~~~~~~
2nd Placing : Standard Contest
Dec.2025
Freckles decorated him from end to end.
In Ireland, there was no drinking after 10:00 pm
Leprechaun O’Toole, was his name.
If found with the drink, shame, shame!
One crooked night past 3 am, O’Toole's tea invited whiskey to attend.
Liquid rules that Ireland had spoke, were now secretly broke and drank by nearby folk.
His silver shillings were now mine to spend! He had forgotten no drinking after 10:00pm
The brother who once drank and dined with us
Now orders for swords to slay us
He allowed himself to be brainwashed
By the men whose skins are rarely scorched
For a few shillings, he has been purchased
Purchased morally, mentally , I fear even spiritually
Because his morals and emotions are tarnished
Tarnished and farmished from endlessly trying to please
Please the men who delight in the gnashing of our teeth
Running unending errands has periodically calloused his feet
The feet that once moved to rhythms of the drum we beat
The brother that never seized to dream ,
has now achieved all he craved
but instead of this making our faces beam
rather stressing us out ,making us bleed , forcing us to flee.
Remember brother , we never hate , we still know
That one day , the venom injected in you , will cease to flow,
Then you know, you become keen , on finding your way home
Oh our , far gone , missing.
Sometimes we rush around far too much for sense,
in desperate persuit of pounds, shillings and pence;
no wonder that we're falling down like finished flies,
I'm outa here but I don't know about all you guys.
No pressure now since I just resigned myself to fate,
I only do modern art like a pile of bricks at the Tate;
occasionally I see Tracey Emin who did the 'unmade bed,'
it's no longer on view now, so we slept in it instead.
Thinking of a memorial for that iconic sycamore tree,
for the unenlightened, in north England, cut brutally,
perhaps a statue of Dawn French with a group of blokes,
she can no longer deliver her usual cheap sexual jokes.
We pay our respects to these memorials, disingenuous,
you pretend, procrastinate, which applies to most of us.
i Came to Australia
by Bob Moore © 2020
I came to Australia a long time ago
as soon as I started to talk, they would know
you are a Pome, then they would laugh
your always whinging, and don’t like a bath
We arrived on a Thursday, at Pyrmont 14
and went to a hostel, in a black limousine
the only family who were going there
looked real posh, but we didn’t care
In my pocket two shillings, was all that I had
with me, my three sisters, my mam and my dad
all else was back there, in a life left behind
with the hope, and belief, that a new one, we’d find
To a hostel in Burwood, that’s where we were bound
four rooms in a long hut, our new home we found
we made one the main room, with a tele and things
with hopes for a good future, a new start brings
Bob Moore
“What is this strange place we find ourselves in
Trapped in the open, we are free within”
----------
Trapped out in the open
By hope beyond hoping,
Desperately groping
Down passages sloping:
We've been here before.
We're faintly perceiving,
Our senses deceiving,
Till monsters, we're seeing
Arriving and leaving
Behind every door.
Is there a spoon, or what?
Not easy to rebut.
Foregoing quick shortcuts,
Change deep inside of us
Awakens, wants more.
So, blue or red pilling?
Be blind and unwilling
And settle for shillings,
Or find that life's thrilling,
With much to explore!
—————
for The Matrix Poetry Contest
sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Written 03/23/2022
I was asked why I always
Give kids on my streets few shillings
Even though
The street has no memory
It will kill me when it needs
It is really selfish
I answered
They have held it together
That’s better than I would
I recognise I am a day away
One bad day away from
Waking up covering my face going to a bank and robbing you
One bad day away from
strapping up and blowing myself in a mall
One bad day away from
buying a gun and shooting the whole lot of you
One bad day away from
Removing your eyes because I did not like how you looked at me
One bad day away from
Slitting your throat at night because I feel like you took from me
One bad away
From becoming a monster used to scare kids to be good
To keep it short
The compassion is to keep me safe
Maybe this street kid is one day away
Locked inside the office
Nine to five
Too budy to read the morning papers
Too frustruating to read the colleages
Too unwilling to read
The boss high expectations
Too busy to read the world
The mind is tangling hard
With the cold and bold money affairs
The hands are counting
The cold and hard shillings
Back home
Too tired to read the family's faces
Too tired to read a novel
Too tired to care
At last
Fall asleep with the night papers
To sleepy to listen
To the grumbling of the outside world
There once lived a man, abhorrent and cruel,
With family he resided, high up on the moor.
He yet drew breath, a misfortune unbeknownst,
To those in his care, their fate soon manifest.
His wife had passed, through illness he claimed,
He sent his two eldest, to labour the land.
So he remained, with child daughter abode,
As his drinking grew more, and his purse ever lighter.
On one stormy night, in a drunken rage,
He took her life, for two shillings and six pence saved.
Bearing child in grasp, to a disused mine he tossed her remains,
And claimed to his neighbours, he had sent her away.
By sheer fortune and distrust, the vicar enquired,
And so it was known, the man had lied.
Reports of a distant light, on that stormy night came in,
Led a search to the mine, where lost child was found.
So the man had fled, but the law followed close behind,
Even across the vast channel, he could not evade his fate.
In chains he was brought back, to face his shameful crime,
And so he was despatched by rope, the hanging man.
Five stones
closing times
radiograms and
seventy-eights
school caps
sticklebacks
saturday flicks,pooh sticks
Charabancs
steam trains
linoleum
oil cloth
mangles
fish paste
sandwich spread
Hot towel shaves
cut-throat razor
shopping baskets
paper bags
braces,plimsoles
short,back
and sides
Wizard beano
and hotspur
lending libraries
picturegoer,
road to
Bridget Bardot
Marilyn Monroe
Dripping
coal fires
antimacassars
nylons,suspenders
crumpets
and toast
Brown and mild
barrelled beer
conkers,school milk
blackboard rubbers
and liftup desk lids
times-tabled
school-kids
Draughts
and allotments
rusty bikes
roller skates
satchels and scrumping
pounds,shillings
and pence
Laying down on my bed to rest,
A flood of emotions run through my head.
Tears rolled down my face,
For Your love and grace.
As I cried I want to say, thank you, Lord for all the pain,
These lessons I learned was not in vain.
Tears, for all the people who crossed my path,
The good and bad, those who made me happy and sad.
I wondered is it me, who is abnormal in society,
No longer want to be in the circle of popularity?
I am tired of chasing after the wind,
Just to earn an extra few shillings.
Life is more than wasting time on vanity.
Tears, for all my blessings, my kids and home,
For Your first born.
Your love has no beginning or end,
To all You are a best friend.
Five stones closing times
radiograms & seventy-eights
school caps sticklebacks
saturday flicks pooh sticks
Charabancs steam trains
linoleum oil cloth
mangles fish paste sandwich spread
Hot towel shaves cut-throat razor
shopping baskets paper bags
braces, & plimsoles
short back& sides
Wizard Beano & Hotspur
lending libraries &picturegoer
roadfilms Bridget Bardot & Marilyn Monroe
Dripping coal fires
antimacassars
nylons suspenders
crumpets &toast
Brown &mild barrelled beer
conkers
school milk
blackboard rubbers & liftup desk lids
times-tabled school-kids
Draughts & allotments
rusty bikes roller skates
satchels &scrumping
with mates
hence
no
pounds shillings or pence
Chandeliers hanging from the floor boards.
A kitty cat and a rabbit play silence on chords.
I ask myself, ‘what do I see before’
The spiders swing across to sing,
… ‘We’re all normal over here’
Normal, I ask?
They reply as expected
Spiders speak in a manner so soft snake’s slow slithers subtly detect it
Did you stutter?
Sorry that was unexpected,
The tea is late hence my feelings negate,
All for the price of ten shillings and sixpence
All my insanity comes with no deliverance
… I’m sorry, I must have missed the time
Candle sticks swings from horizontal walls,
And out of the distance my ears compute several subtle calls…
Teas ready
What social distance, at sunrise?
Cheek by jowl,no surprise
No greedy cops yet on patrol
Throwing awry, infection control
Elsewhere the experts crunch the numbers
As the hungry nation slumbers
A hundred deaths amid too many feelings
Negative test results for three thousand shillings
What is true, what is false, we know not
Which book have we sought?
Wisdom, the beginning of all understanding, real
Makes conventional thinking surreal
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.