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Best Poems Written by Janis Medders Tobechi

Below are the all-time best Janis Medders Tobechi poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Dark Roses

Dark red was the bouquet in white gloved hands
foreshadowing the scarlet stains of dread.
If yellow be the rose of Texas land
why not give her the amber ones instead?

As shots rang out, she let the flowers go
reaching for the flesh and bone that scattered.
Thorns of human blood in a rosewood glow
pricked her heart, destroying all that mattered.

Discarded were these roses in the car
with drops of plasma blending in their hue.
If they were yellow blood would show by far
the horror of the act for more to view

-but she was given crimson tears to shed
dark roses standing for the one who bled

7/29/18
Not Just Any Old Rose Poetry Contest   Sponsored by: Mark Massey

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Poem To Myself

Poem to Myself

You ask to be birthed,
when you know I have passed
the age of passion to sing anything
sweeter than a harmonious hymn.
My taste for life is hollow blue
and all I know is hawks flying and lilting leaves falling.
There is no honey in the suckle.
If I were awake, I would sing of 
blackness and morning star,
being beautiful, heritage of queens,
mama songs and Tennessee,
knowing full well that there’s 
no place, no ears, no eyes.
I am the scorned sister.
I write words and dream.
I look at a group of trees in summer and see
that wonderful, magical country,
to which I never go.
Is that who I am?
The newspaper can't tell my future and
for a twenty-dollar phone call to a psychic
will there be hope, a while. 
Yes, my precious self,
you ask to be birthed
yet you hide your real face
behind the white peaks of a
daily psychotropic cocktail,
parasites of the mind that suck the senses.
Oh, but if you break free,
if you get to feel,
just once
limitless wonder 
WOW!

'old poems, FREE VERSE (003)
Poet Destroyer A, Sponsor

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Contamination

So much contamination
needs a close examination.

take a breath of radiation
or a toxic medication
select a name with aspartame
clean your car of acid rain
eat the food with preservatives
and other long letter additives
from the air-borne pathogens
to the many carcinogens
wipe off this and sanitize that
Pacific Ocean Garbage Patch
landfills loaded with human waste
trash mountains growing at rapid pace
fish lying dead from climate change
icebergs and coastlines rearranged
and now in our existence
is the practice of social distance

Contamination of all kinds
even pollution of our minds.

3/31/17

'STRAND no 700
Brian Strand, Sponsor

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Lady Eloise From Boomerang

A funny movie named Boomerang,
had Eddie, Eartha and quite a gang.
Eartha Kitt was Old Lady Eloise,
namesake for scents and the likes of these.
As an elder owner, her body sang.

Eddie Murphy aimed for the top.
Old Lady Eloise was hot.
He cringed to her love notions
to get a big promotion
but the company exec she was not.

The next day he met the real boss.
All was not a complete loss.
She was a woman fine
that took his total mine
and the job at the top was the cost.

He approached and gave her a line.
She knew who he was all the time.
She gave him some talk
as to their office they walked.
For Eddie, this play was sublime.

Right then appeared Lady Eloise.
Who whispered, “I have no panties.”
While Eddie Murphy turned red
the exec winked and said,
“She’s the one not to displease.”

4/9/18
Limerick Old or New/2883 views

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Black Diamond Child

Black Diamond Child


Black diamond child with hopeless eyes
In your frightful future your talent lies

No worth is greater than watching you grow 
To a world whose wealth you may not know

The street schools you in the ways of hate
And the price of your life’s at dime store rate

Black diamond child with searching eyes
In the rough you sparkle in disguise

Young boy, young girl, you're the toughest stones
Regardless of your precarious homes

Your genes are heirs to our African past
Through you, millennials, our race will last

Grab hold to a dream and pray it comes true
That the doors of this country will open to you

Black diamond child with joyless eyes
Like an ebony phoenix may you rise! 

8/2/16

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Winter Blues

Winter Blues

If you have to lose a love then
not in winter
when words are cold and eyes are 
closed to light
while watching falling snowflakes you remember
a pain that spurred the wounded heart to write.

If you have to lose a love then
not at Christmas
when happiness is just about to burst.
It’s not a time for callous acts and anger
that bring you blues instead of leaving gifts
and make you want to never see a Christmas tree again.

If you have to lose a love then 
not in blizzards
when everyone is cuddling with a friend
and with each inch of snow in isolation 
you contemplate your life and thoughts forlorn
wandering the depths of desperation all day long

If you have to lose a love then
not in winter
when Valentines are favored for the blessed.
Fire and ice together all in red
as advertisements leave you
with unmarried winter dread.

There seems to be no shelter for the loveless.
In a frigid cold they shiver for the warmth of a caress.

1/10/18

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The Lost Poem

The Lost Poem 

This is dedicated to a quickly lost poem.
Its opening line for a second known.
No more than a furtive verse buried away.
Maybe my heart will return it someday.

6/12/17

YOUR BEST FOUR-LINE LIGHT VERSE, NO. 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS

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Houston

Houston

I wonder if the summer rain was warm
that poured like Pharaoh’s plagues upon the town
as people waded from their homes in swarms
and small craft was the mode to move around.
Memories lost by tempest's hurt and harm
float pass as muddy waters flood the ground.

The summer rain may be a hurricane,
a wicked, wind song made in sad refrain.

9/3/17

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Glass Memories

Glass  Memories

How fragile are the things we see so clear?
With passing time, there is no dim of view.
Its frank acuity often fraught with fear,
these mind photos of faces we once knew.

The looking glass of memory’s crystalline.
Translucent veil from there and there to here.
But it grows sharper with the stretch of time.
Peer into the mirror, friend. Truth will appear.

Glass memories are the prize of wizened eyes.
The treasures that are owed for all the pain.
At any time or place they call to comfort,
and from their age-old truth is much to gain.

Reflections from our memoirs please the soul.
True images remind us that we're old.

6/25/17

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Michelangelo's David

Michelangelo’s David

Extol the grace of mortal man
fashioned by Buonarroti’s hands.
What priceless handsome figure made,
the youthful David, bold and brave.
A statue of a human form,
anatomized, perfectly norm.
Giant, quarried, pure white stone,
shaped in fashioned style of Rome.
Standing, heroic, nude male,
ready to take on huge assail.
Pure wisdom and firm sinew
in glory of a naked view.
Amazing how each crease and fold,
is captured as a movement told.

2/21/19

2019 Poetry Marathon Final Placement / Sponsor: Mark Toney 9th place
written 1/21/17