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Best Poems Written by Beth Evans

Below are the all-time best Beth Evans poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Painting A Dream

This picture, quietly serene,
May be of some familiar place,
An idealised and surreal scene
Which memory lingers to embrace.
How soft are those blue leaves afar,
And, in the foreground, silvered and tall,
Ghost gums reach towards the stars,
Towards heaven, after all,
For those slim and graceful trees,
Growing by that rock-strewn stream,
Stand perhaps as allegories
For the artist's sacred dream
Of that haven she believed
Could, with God's grace, be achieved.

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019

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Full Of Bull

Bullies who prey upon the weak
Seem to believe that they are strong,
They open boastful mouths and speak,
To manufacture right from wrong.

Those who are different in some way,
Bullies who prey upon the weak
Will look upon as their mainstay,
Because they look on them as meek.

If you seem to be a freak,
And do not blend in with the crowd,
Bullies who prey upon the weak
Will start tormenting you out loud.

Of course, they have now gone online,
Endeavouring to make more bleak
The lives of those that they malign -
Bullies who prey upon the weak.

"Strand Select B"
Brian Strand

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2020

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Frost By The Stars

Someone there is who does not love the stars,
Expressing doubts as to their relevance,
For him they simply twinkle in the sky;
He knows not the pull of Venus, or of Mars,
Or if they speak of peace or of malevolence,
What powers they may hold have passed him by.
One must forbear to chide his ignorance,
For he is not the first to ridicule,
There seems but little use in remonstrance -
Far better, I believe, to use example,
Rather than on disbelief to trample,
Since our beliefs are not subject to rule.
Dear Robert, since your output is voluminous,
The tally of your verses vastly numerous,
I had every reason to suspect
That your Mercury and Jupiter would connect:
Robert, you have Mercury in Pisces,
With Jupiter in Virgo opposing,
These planets are assisted by reception,
One of astral lore's most prized devices,
Ancient astrologers supposing
That this was an advantage to conception.
Therefore, although your oeuvre is immense
(One wonders when you found the time to sleep),
Every poem to me makes perfect sense,
From "Out, Out" back to "Mending Wall",
Back and beyond, I can embrace them all,
These verses you have given us to keep,
And since your natal astral pattern
Includes a nicely elevated Saturn,
It is little wonder that such fame
Has been associated with your name.

(Written in response to Robert Frost's poem "On Looking Up By Chance At The
Constellations", using the same rhyme scheme).

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019

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My Heart Is Full

My heart is full, gorged on times past,
From regrets I have swallowed,
Precious moments held fast -
From all recipes followed
In concocting my life's feast
Of dark pain and deep pleasure,
Mistakes far from least,
And triumphs to treasure.
Into my pot of Memory Soup
I have poured love, spiced strongly
With misguided dupe
That has all ended wrongly;
Cruel remarks that were made
Grow less potent by years
As slowly they fade
Steeped in my secret tears.
For dessert, my bursting heart
Has feasted well on Kindness Cake,
And tasted of Temptation Tart
With all the sweetness it could take.
Life has dished up a varied meal,
Not always easy to digest,
But one cannot strain out the real,
Though it may not taste the best.

My Heart Is Full
Cindi Rockwell

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019

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Fools' Paradise

We're all living in a Fools' Paradise,
In this land of plenty, and plenty of sun.
(We must take America's advice).

We live in Australia where everything is nice,
We're a beaut lot of people, with very little vice,
We're True Blue Aussies, every one.
We're all living in a Fools' Paradise.

We love our sport, and play it without spite,
We'd never cheat at cricket, that would not be right.
We just like to have a lot of fun.
(We must take America's advice).

We like life with a little bit of spice,
We'll bet on horses, or the roll of a dice,
We never know how our luck's going to run.
We're all living in a Fools' Paradise.

We are proud to send our boys to fight,
To die for their country is their sacred right,
These boys soon learn to love the gun.
(We must take America's advice).

We're not really a pack of timid mice,
But, after all, we have to pay the price,
And we know there's nothing to be done.
We all live in a Fools' Paradise.
(We must take America's advice).

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019

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To Owe The Mockingbird

Australia was an uncut jewel
With an interior vast and cruel,
When first brought under our Mother's rule:
Rough diamond in the Pacific pool.
With fair Venus as his guiding star,
A Gulliver reached it from afar.

James, Captain Cook, with furrowed frown
Unearthed that jewel for the British crown,
The "Endeavour", Cook's ship of renown
Brought him to "New Holland" ground.
Thus Cook made a good report,
And ships for settlement were sought.

This was not an untenanted land -
A population of darkly-tanned
Nomadic, unsophisticated bands
Were nominally those in command:
"Terra Nullius" was a "white lie"
Used to soothe white scruples by.

The dark custodians of the place
Were a culturally complex race,
But existed at so slow a pace
Their presence scarcely left a trace.
They did not share white man's obsession
With settlement and land possession.

And so began an unequal duel
Between the new and the ancient schools,
One, complex of law, simple of tool,
Its foe with far more modern fuel -
Foes utterly dissimilar
In ways sacred and secular.

The Aboriginal people found
They were hunted from their tribal grounds,
Peace-making efforts were not profound,
The "Abos" were not wanted around,
So the shy bush-dwellers learned to stay
Well out of the settlers' way.

The treatment of an innocent race
May be described as a disgrace,
But most here can now embrace
The necessity to put in place
Constructively applied concessions
To compensate for their dispossession.

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019

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Fire In The Cathedral

Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!
Fetch the fire engines -
Notre Dame's on fire,
Its history's up in flames.
How did it happen?
Who's to blame?
Heads will roll for this!
The beautiful cathedral,
Eight hundred years of age,
Steeped in ancient history,
Home to a hundred legends,
The setting for Hugo's famous book.
(Sales of "The Hunchback"
Are soaring, so they say -
One way to get the folks to read!)
Meanwhile, what's the damage?
Entire sections ruined -
Irreplaceable architecture -
What a day for France!
Designs are being sought
To remodel the ruins,
Decisions about materials
Must be made soon:
Authenticity versus practicality,
And practicality will probably succeed.
Donations are pouring in -
The famous want to get on board -
There'll be lotteries, no doubt,
Maybe a "Cathedral Tax",
But the Vatican won't be donating.
Heaven help the Notre Dame Cathedral!
God help the noble Notre Dame de Paris!
Find a modern Quasimodo,
Some lovely Esmerelda,
Some black-hearted priest,
Find another Victor Hugo,
Some bravura story-teller,
And have our humble hunchback save the day

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019

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Teddy Bears Picnic Revisited

If you go down to the woods today,
You'll see the teddy bears at play,
But do not give yourself away,
Find a hiding place to stay.
If you're quiet, you just may
See a wonderful display,
For this will be the bears' big day, 
With fun and frolic all the way.

8 Word Challenge
DH - W.Ode

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019

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Size Six TNR

This will be a hopeless task
                            Without a magnifying glass:
                                    I am looking for a surname,
                                                    One of dozens of the same;
                                                  The phone book print is infinitesimal,
                                     So small it should be inadmissible,
                                                No more than size six TNR* -
                                        I can't see what on earth the words are.
                                                  So where, oh where, is "C. J. Smith",
                                  Or does he simply not exist?!

*Times New Roman

          July       2019              Miniverse

                                          Nina Parmenter

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019

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Clerk: All rise!  Now that His Honour is seated,
This district court is declared in session.
Let us do credit to this noble profession,
And ensure that all are properly treated.

Judge: Mr. Grey, what is your client's complaint?
Grey: Your Honour, he says he has been assaulted,
And that loss of income has resulted -
He says the attack was without restraint.

Judge: Mr. Black, how does your client plead?
Black: Not Guilty, Your Honour!  He has been framed!
He has vowed to have the real culprit named,
And is confident he will be freed.

Judge: Do you have proof of this allegation?
If so, we have the wrong man on trial.
Has this claim received any denial?
We have here a most grave situation.

"Your Honour!" interrupted Mr. Grey,
My client swears he is not mistaken,
He says his belief will not be shaken,
Even if Mr. Black badgers him all day!

Black: I object to my learned friend's tone!
I deny I would badger his client.,
Although, of course, if he proves defiant,
My displeasure will be clearly shown.

Judge:  Well, well. Come gentlemen, shall we proceed?
Mr. Grey, your first witness is waiting - 
No need for you to be hesitating!
Let us settle this matter with all speed.

Grey: Call Mr. Timothy L. White!
Mr. Timothy White, come to the stand!
Where is he?  Surely he hears my command.
I hope he is not overcome with fright.

A loud disturbance is suddenly heard.
Judge: Order! Order in the court!
Why is this unseemly brawl being fought?
It is disgraceful that this has occurred!

Black: Your Honour, I believe it is Mr. Brown,
And that other man must be Mr. Green.
Judge: This is the worst display I have seen!
Usher, clear the court! Take that pair down.

The erring twosome is hustled outside.
Judge: Gentlemen, I declare a mistrial.
I will not permit behaviour so vile.
What, Grey? You have news that Grey has DIED?!

Heart attack when he saw the other two?
You say Brown attacked him by mistake?
He meant to get Green? Oh, for pity's sake.
Thank God, tomorrow we'll have something new.

Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2019