Stop The Presses Poems | Examples


List of Member Poems

Premium Member Stop the Presses



              My Message to the Media


Brave, staunch Israel, will rise in the end!
After painful losses, victory shines ahead!

You media, laugh and paint Israel all black.
Of moral integrity, you do sickeningly lack.

Have you no shame, as Mother would say?
Do you think a pogrom is a game to play?


                      ~ Poem 1~
                        3/10/2024

Premium Member Your Precious Life

Your Life
Your Precious Life

You went to school, learned about history and much more.
One day, you carried your beautiful wife, across the threshold to 
begin a new life!

Raised children, paid the expense by sending them to private schools.
You worked grueling hours, all your life.
Sometimes  both you and your wife, had two jobs to avoid strife.

So, stop being ashamed of all you have done.
Acknowledge yourself for all your contributions to the poor.
You have done throughout all these years.

Thanksgiving Day is to be thankful, to your God.
Make a fine dinner and stop the presses from making you  
the fault and cause of others messes.


November 27, 2019

Premium Member My Best Friend

Let the flags all stop their waving,
Let the traffic lights turn red.
I was informed this morning,
That my best friend was dead. 

Let all the world be still,
Stop the sands of time.
Stop the presses, stop the show,
This man was a friend of mine. 

Let there be no laughter,
Not even to hide a tear.
You have taken my greatest treasure,
and decided to leave me here.

Life now has no meaning,
there's no project I want to start.
Stop all the things that I once loved,
then stop my beating heart.

>> 
           I paint pictures with words.
                [email protected]


Mr Fancy Pants

You're passing by the window
Of a fancy clothing store
Eyes popping in surprise
As your jaw drops to the floor
All you've ever dreamed of
All of this and more
More than enough can't believe your luck
As you hit the revolving doors

You've found a pair of Fancy Pants!

You do a happy dance
Cause you know this is your chance
To fulfill the dreams you've dreamed of
As a gullible young  lad
You have the widest grin
You have ever imagined
As you slide one leg then the other
Stop the presses this is it

Hello Mr. Fancy Pants!

These being the fanciest pants
Anyone has ever seen
People stop and stare 
With eyes that can't believe
Flashing pink and blue and yellow
Orange, red, and green
Not skipping a single solitary beat
Strolling confidently down the street

Look out world it's Mr. Fancy Pants!

Some people have minor dreams
Of being kings or queens
Others wish their names
To go down in history
Struggle all their lives 
To perform some awesome feat
But as for you
You're just happy

Being Mr. Fancy Pants!

Exclamations of the Perfect Child

Goodness Gracious!
My classmates are all hot messes,
They all managed to get cookie crumbs
all over their dresses,
They have warped into little monsters!
Attacking snacks as if they were Edward 
Scissorhands,
I can't bear to look,
Their antics are repulsive man,
Please stop the presses and the publicity!
Someone needs to show these kids how to
eat,
How can anyone go from enjoying a meal,
to being the most notorious violators
of fine cuisine...?
There is no peeling, patting or baking 
involved, so why is it so hard to partake
politely, without being ghastly and unsightly?
Goodness Gracious!
It is such a turn off when youngsters act like
complete slobs,
I wonder how they would fare eating pasghetti
in globs? Or cotton candy melting by the millisecond?
They would probably need a Nursemaid......
I reckon.

Statistic

Statistic
Stop the presses roll the presses stop the presses roll the presses stop the 
presses roll the presses stop the presses roll the presses man is just a 
murdered victum just an ad campaign gone wild just a circumstantial incidental 
mark in time a blood red smear in some dark alley way a thing to be uncovered 
and then covered over in the dark but wait it has not happened yet a man is 
moving in his day a man is writing all eye say he is still typing on his keyboard 
and watching all the words making sure this time that the spell check is on he is 
undercover of the day light and the darkness flees away he is me and he is eye a 
poet and a birthright an occidental gentleman turning time back into usage of 
forgiveness and some privileges. It is just a poem after all they say who reads it 
anyway who has the time who has the time to learn the way of GOD. In Peace a 
Poet is the one. I am only a statistic after all.


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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace