Trade In Poems | Examples

Premium Member Twilight Zone

What ruse is so effective
that someone blatantly perverse
can succeed all so easily
to convince one after the other
to give it all up
to trade in their integrity
to renege on their values
to turn their back on any moral compass
to literally sell their soul to the devil

And… have the gall to walk among us
still with their head held high ?

Seems like we’ve entered an alternate reality
beyond the stretch of imagination
where nightmares are the new norm.



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

Florida, How Many New Law's does It Need Each Year

The sun still spills on the oranges' skin,
Bright as the lies we bury within.
The sea is patient, the palms still sway,
But silence gathers at the edge of the bay.

How many rules must the warm wind bear
Before it forgets how to kiss the air?
They scribble statutes in hurried ink—
Do they ever pause long enough to think?

Children dream under moonlit skies,
While lawmakers trade in their lullabies
For leashes on thought and tide.
Liberty wilts when shadows need not hide.

Let me lie down where the wild birds go,
Far from the noise of the men who know.
A law for this, a law for that—
But none to hush the diplomat.
Oh Florida, must you cage the breeze?


Premium Member Mother

M
  a
    y
 I, you may
play dress up
with showers
treat your crown
to flowers
trade in the cold
for warmer hours

M
  a
     y
 I, you may
tiptoe outside
whisper
to the zephyr
eye the blossoms
as they sashay
port and starboard

M
  a
    y
 I, you may
remember
Mother’s Day
with tears
and smiles
and cheers

M
  a
    y
 I, you may
look forward
to Summer days
with a plentiful
garden of praise

Premium Member Preceding Ice-T

     The very first rapper preceded 
       Ice-T by aeons and eons

     Though his rap-a-tap-tap
       never earned him lights in neon

     Humbly plying his trade in forests far
       from billionaire rapper stars

     The woodpecker taps out his tune on trees
       ~ at times nearby, have a look-see

Branded Y2K

Yankee-two-kilo
Yankee-two-kilo
Can you read me?
Y2K
The year 2000's on the way
The new millennium's almost here
To write January 1, 2000 will be weird
Star Trek's beam me up Scottie was
A far out idea
But now the space shuttle goes up
Several times a year
The crew of seven went up that day
(don't look up to watch it burn)
they had no fear, now their view from heaven
Is crystal clear
When January 1 comes will
My computer freeze?
Will I get my money from the
ATM with the greatest of ease?
Did I store any staples and canned
Goods to keep my mind at ease?
Will I be able to trade in the
Stock market as I please?
Y2K
Yankee-two-kilo
Calling all earthlings!
Come aboard
The space center on the moon is
Ready (it has so much more
More than you'd ever imagined before)
Don't look back to watch it burn


Riots From Rhymes

There are only so many pages and so many stages
Of life I can riddle and write on through 
Until the paper's a waste, and the words are bad taste
And I can't tell fiction from true
Until the pen is bleeding and loves are leaving
And my cursive has gone too far
Eventually the trees start screaming that I'm not worth redeeming
And I don't know who you are
The notebook is finding it detests it's binding
And the lines are just scribbles and scars
The pencils revolted, and the erasers remolded 
And the calligraphy has taken up arms
There are only so many minutes and moment, of clarity and atonement 
That the typewriter is willing to hold
A quill and a quiver, and how do they differ
When the reading light has become so cold
There are riots from rhymes in tempestuous times
And I am growing so weary now
When I sit down to write, of love and of spite 
And whatever my pen will allow
There are only so many nights and so many slights
I can sit and stand to record 
With words as my weapon, to make the pain lessen
It's time to trade in for the sword

how it is

Yeah yeah yeah 
fair trade columbian fair trade in the cup
wishing it was sheets but I got 
they tell me thats life

and I guess (though having o 
other way to be convinced to 
contrary results)
those are the way things are
S O C K S
as they said down south

along with tomorrow I think kerouac might
have heard this one to
that way we make our peace with
some kind of grander rhymthic thrum

might not be heaven and if I could
(find a better word though who tries too hard
these days) might have come more prepared

best gas it up and be moving on
S O C K S
right.

War Mongers

the ravishing revolution, 
a wanton waltz of war, 
where proud generals prance, 
with bloody, 
bruised hearts' saw, 
their noble steeds, 
a phalanx of fantasy, 
trample the trembling, 
tender/timid/bereft/faint,
the mere infinite.

in this bloody ballroom, 
where death's dark majesty reigns, 
the lubricious language love/lust, 
of liberty's sweet pains, 
is reduced to snarling insolence, 
a dry, dusty joke, 
as kings and queens of chaos, 
trade in promiscuous fortune, 
and bottomless debt, 
and ravaged/rotten hope.

Premium Member Less Complimented Is The Name Of The Game


It's colder than cold but the sun's shining brightly
Which makes a whole lot of difference to me
Must have been born on a bright sunny day
To expect that's how each day should be

Unfortunately we must take the bad with the good
Helps us to appreciate the good even more
Gotta be happy with the skin that we're in
Cuz I don't know of any trade-in store

What if you were to loose the job that you've had
For years then it suddenly becomes obsolete
Sure a good reason to sound off just a bit
Need security to make life complete

But really no one else can promise you the moon
You determine how your life will work out
Choices that you make is totally yours 
And strive to persevere throughout

So the bottom line as I see it are really quite simple
Less complicated is the name of life's game
Don't complicate life more than necessary
Soon be back to from where you came

Premium Member God's Children Are Not For Sale

Today our world is threatened by,
An evil that should make us cry.
It’s vicious as a tidal wave,
And involves men who trade in slaves.

Their victims are young girls and boys,
whom they abduct and sell as toys,
to clients who are pedophiles,
Who makes them live in constant dread.

The number of these chaste child slaves,
is more than those who crossed the waves,
in ships with men crammed in the hold
destined to be bought and then sold.

Why is there, not a great outrage,
Against this evil of the age?
Is it because powerful men,
use these children in their playpens?

The God who loves them hears their cries,
Their plight is painful to His eyes.
Those who hurt them are fit to die,
by drowning when the tide is high.

Let all of us join in the fight,
To rid the world of this black blight.
Support the ones who risk the grave,
for every child, they try to save.

We need to let these perverts know,
That we would fight them toe to toe.
Let’s shout it loud, tell without fail,
That God’s children are not for sale.

King Chuck

King Chuck [Apologies to Steve Martin]

King Chuck (King Chuck)
Now when he was a young lad,
He always knew he’d be
the sovereign of a nation people stood in line to see.
(King Chuck) How'd you get to be you?
(Funky Chuck) Did you do the Loco Motion?
Born at Buckingham 
Schooled at Gordonstoun, (King Chuck). (King Chuck) 

Now, if I'd known
They'd line up just to see you,
I'd trade in all my money
And become an English citizen. 
Married to Queen Camilla (Funky Chuck)
He is so very vanilla!

Born in London,
Studied rocks at Trinity College (King Chuck)
Dancin' by the Thames, (Disco Chuck)
The ladies love his games, (Polo Chuck)
Rockin' to the Mersey beat (Rockin' Chuck)
He likes to eat game meat. (King Chuck). (King Chuck) 

He lives his life for England.
Defender of the Faith
He's a Windsor I’m tellin' you.
Tight as a knot. (King Chuck). (King Chuck) 

Now, when I die,
Don't think I'm a nut,
Don't want no fancy funeral,
Just one like they’ll give for King Chuck. (King Chuck)

He created the Carta Astra 
He shoulda win a BAFTA,
Reigns o’er Great Britain as its king-o,
Reigns o’er Great Britain, lives in a palace made of stone-a,
King Chuck.

Premium Member Clerihew Ramsay

Scottish poet Allan Ramsay
a bookseller by trade in his day
He established the first circulating library
penning poems therein to have his say

Premium Member The Crown of Thorns

King of Jews they would mock
Making a crown of thorns 
To place around His head
That He might look foolish
To make an example out of Him
For their king of this world
Had a crown of wealth 
If only did they know the thorns
Would symbolize what kept them in death
In bondage of sinful nature 
They can not grow on their own 
For these thorns held them from 
Reaching the light yet to come
That Jesus came to free them from
Through love that we might 
Come to know a true love
In His death we have been given a way
To seek the light that burns out the thorns
So one might rise above the darkness 
To trade in there crown of thorns
And receive a crown of life 
Which places the seal of approval
That you belong to the God of the living
That He might reign within
To give knowledge and wisdom in His word 
That shines light on the darkness
To see Jesus is the King of Kings


Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.
James 1:12 KJV

Premium Member A Very Memorable Christmas Present

** A Very Memorable Christmas Present **

Someone made an err::
Boxing Day ‘ere’s 
Been the day of — not after.
What started as the greatest 
Christmas ever, turned 
Us from better to worse
As our tempers grew, altered 
After our fingers were slid into
Those gift-wrapped firm gloves of leather,
Punching through the room’s air
At each other
With words roused from harsh to meaner,
‘Till our referee pup barked 
To end our Round 1, forcing a turnover
Into creating a round of rich laughter.
Re-freshed, happier, remembering our
Proper manners appropriate to honor
Our Savior’s birthday…We resolved
A return trip to the store to trade 
That shared present of boxing gloves for 
A healthier, sturdy set of parallel bars.


————————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 12/25/22
Happy Birthday, King Jesus

Fix

I am broken
And have no one
To help fix me
So I sit at home
Soldering, tinkering
Trying like hell
To drain my body
Of all this bad blood
And replace my heart
With machine parts
Engineering out
These feelings
Become inorganic
And free
Lost the blueprints
Along the way
This path I've taken
Not by choice
Yet here all the same
A trail staind with blood
And tears
Trying all the old maintenance
To fix my problems
Ending up just as broke down
As I was before
It's time to trade in
This broken model
For something shiny and new
So Someone please tell me How?
I am infested
With rot and decay

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