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Best Poems Written by Jim Slaughter

Below are the all-time best Jim Slaughter poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Ballad of Daphne and Jack, a Romance of the High Seas

Listen, my dears, and I'll tell you a tale
Of a princess, a pirate, and glory.
There's a shipwreck, a rescue,
A romance, a ransom,
And a handicapped whale in the story.

There once was a princess, fairest of all,
But also quite vain and spoiled rotten.
She had a semi-private
Affair with a pirate
That would be but for me now forgotten.

The pirate, Mad Jack, was bloodthirsty and crude,
When upset, he'd explode, blow his top off.
Merchant vessels he sank,
Made their crews walk the plank,
Or, more rudely, their heads he would lop off.

One day Princess Daphne set out to sea
With her maid, they were bound for Majorca.
But the maid, in a gale,
Was swept over the rail
And inhaled by an asthmatic orca.

Lifeboats were lowered, the crew clambered in
And rowed quickly away, only thinking
Of saving their own necks,
Not the princess below decks
Left alone on a wreck that was sinking.

Then through the storm a ship hove into view,
At first Daphne thought it would dodge her.
But before she could hail her,
She felt courage fail her,
From its mast flew a vast Jolly Roger.

When Princess Daphne was brought before Jack,
She was haughty but thought he was handsome.
But to his greedy eyes
This fair royal prize
Represented a shipload of ransom.

But Jack was still human, Daphne was too,
And soon they were sharing their privates.
To his quarters she moved
And his crew all approved,
No one loves a love tale more than pirates.

But what of the ransom, yet to be paid?
Well, here the plot gets even deeper.
The stingy king said to Jack,
"No, I don't want her back.
It's cheaper for me if you keep her."

So Princess Daphne became Jack's sea wife,
And though common, but not mandatory,
When they became parents
They stopped being pirates
And passed peacefully out of the story.

For now then, my dears, that's the end of my tale,
An adventurous one hard to equal.
But, if I may be so bold,
And there's more to be told,
It may one day unfold in a sequel.

Details | Jim Slaughter Poem

Mediclueless, a Hypochondriac's Lament

I feel I have appendicitis,
Or a bad case of bursitis,
And I think I need another tonsillectomy.
I'm sure I got a staph infection
From a tetanus injection
While I was prepping for a hemorrhoidectomy.
I've got cataracts and shingles,
When I cough my kidney jingles,
And my muscle tone's diminished due to entropy.
I have a lower disc displacement,
I need a knee and hip replacement,
And I'm scheduled for my umpteenth colonoscopy.

With my doctor's full compliance,
I will donate my corpse to science
To see if reasons can be found for all my maladies.
No doubt that when they disconnect me,
Vivisect me and inspect me,
They'll find a host of medical irregularities,
As well as hitherto unheard of abnormalities
That may account for part or all of my infirmities,
And might help to explain my PCP's enormous fees.


Author's note: After reading Ilene Bauer's delightfully insightful "A Certain Age", once again I delved into my archives and disinterred this bit of nonsense from 2017. I apologize, dear readers, if any of you who might be suffering from medical conditions find it insensitive. It is certainly not intended to be so. Although I don't think it's been scientifically tested or doctor recommended, I firmly believe in the homeopathically therapeutic value of humor and laughter. And I know that after writing this piece, I felt better about my own health issues.

Details | Jim Slaughter Poem

Let There Be Limericks: a Little Bit Biblical I

The Garden of Eden
Some people believe that the Garden of Eden
Was in Africa, Asia, Australia...not Sweden.
The presumed site of its location
Is assumed from the interpretation
Of which Good Book's being read…and who's doin' the readin'.


Noah 
Noah's ark, neither yacht nor a sloop,
Was constructed to be one big animal coop.
On his crew It must have been a strain
That during forty days and nights of rain
To keep forking in fodder and scooping out poop.


It Ain't Necessarily So 
Pious people are prone to become agitated
When agnostics assess their belief's overrated,
And the words that they're liable
To find in the Bible
By mere men were created, not divinely dictated.

Details | Jim Slaughter Poem

It has occurred to me that as I grow older and use my life experiences more, everything means more than it did before. So, here I am, at the end of another year soliloquizing about myself, studying my life's reflection in a tarnished mirror, and realizing that, considering the alternative, old age is not the worst thing that can happen to a person.

What does it mean to be old? Eighty-plus years of a life lived largely in fits and starts have brought me to the conclusion that a man truly starts to be old when regrets begin to take the place of dreams. Fortunately, that hasn't happened to me, yet.

Interestingly, my life has spanned most of one century and part of another, and has even spilled over into a new millennium. In addition to having the virtual weight of ages upon my shoulders, I can see now that growing older has accomplished for me three things: it has effectively cleared the acne of adolescent atheism; thinned the hair of middle-aged skepticism; and brought me to a semi-firm belief that there just may be, after all, a mysterious order to the universe. In another quarter century or so, I may reach another conclusion: there just may be a "divine entity", or god, if you prefer, who has a personal, if lukewarm, at best, interest in my welfare. I'd like to believe that my life has been more than merely an amateurish and accidental exercise in futility. I do believe that until I die my life will be on the mend. It's impractical to expect a man to be good at everything, but he should be good at something. I can only be what I'm here to be. Now, in this last quarter mile, I'll do my best to take the talent I do have, work hard to make the most of it, and hope, with fingers crossed, that if I keep writing long enough I'll eventually say something interesting. And I'll try to be truthful, although, while truth has a tendency to be remarkably, and at times tediously, tenacious, in the long run it isn't really all that important, and oftentimes is merely a matter of circumstance. Truisms, on the other hand, are something else altogether. Universal truths such as: life is too short for oatmeal; a life is like a story; no story is a straight line; memory tends to glorify a place; no one can be a tribe of one; and hope doesn't work on wrinkles.

Realistically, I suppose I must acknowledge that as the end of this life of rhyme approaches, I can only hope I'll have the grace and courage not to be bitter because it's over all too soon, but be glad because it happened in the first place, and to me. That I was what I was here to be. How much longer will it last? How much more is expected of me? How far do I still have to roam? Who knows? All I can say at this stage of the game, dear friends, is that I'm finally over the hump and happily headed for home.

...Happy 2025, Poetry Soup...

Details | Jim Slaughter Poem

There's Never Been a Time

There's never been a time I didn't love you.
No time at all, and foolish as it seems,
No day goes by when I'm not thinking of you,
No night when you don't occupy my dreams.
Too young, I fell in love with love's illusion;
Naïve to think that such a dream could last.
I know I should dismiss my heart's confusion,
Move on with life, stop living in the past.
They say the first love is the best remembered,
Time heals all wounds, and broken hearts will mend.
Perhaps there'll come a time when I don't love you,
Perhaps that's when eternity will end.

Details | Jim Slaughter Poem

Refurbished Fairy Tales: Cinderella, If the Shoe Fits Part Two

At the ball...

At this point in the tale, a happy ending should be pending,
But readers now are more demanding,
And so, I'll tweak a bit the plot.
Cinderella made an entrance like aurora borealis
That sent a shockwave through the palace,
"Who is this chick? Man, she is hot!"

When the prince caught her attention, his anxieties enflamed him,
But when she smiled, he overcame them, 
And asked her if she'd care to dance.
The king and queen were sore relieved
Because they'd had some apprehension,
To girls he'd never paid attention,
They thought him something of a "nance".

But by the time the waltz was over he was thoroughly enraptured,
This girl his royal heart had captured,
And her to wed he was inclined.
Mom and Dad looked on with pride, 
And it was then and there decided
To get the two of them united
Before the prince could change his mind.

But he was well and truly hooked, and as to true love she surrendered,
Cindy suddenly remembered
She must be out of there by twelve.
If she hung around too long 
Until the tower bell stopped tolling,
The whole darn thing would start unrolling,
The midnight knell would end the spell.

So Cinderella fled the ball, but just before the spell was broken,
She dropped a slipper as a token,
And hoped the prince would come around.
But when the clean-up crew was through,
Along with hairpins and nail clippers,
At least a dozen single slippers
Had been turned in to Lost and Found.

When the prince saw all those shoes, he didn't ponder which or whether,
Just one was crystal, the rest leather,
And he knew what he had to do.
He had his mother pack a lunch, 
And Benzedrine he grabbed a fistful,
Then off he shot just like a pistol
In hot pursuit of that glass clue.

To be continued...

Details | Jim Slaughter Poem

Many Thanks

!!HAPPY THANKSGIVING, POETRY SOUP!! 

I'm thankful for sunsets,
And rainbows and stars,
And for ice cream and cookies,
And, of course, candy bars.
I'm thankful for movies,
And for TV, and books,
And that internet banking
Is not as hard as it looks.

I'm thankful I've food,
And a roof, and a bed,
And if I don't want to drive,
I can "Uber", instead.
I'm thankful for family,
And for good friends I've known,
For the generous love and support
They have shown.

I'm thankful for mental
And physical health,
And the myriad small things
I esteem more than wealth.
And even with all the turmoil
In this country today,
I'm still thankful I live
In the U. S. of A.

I will also be thankful,
Until I run out of time,
If I can keep trying
To cheer the world up with rhyme.
My thanks are ad infinitum,
But to pare them down to the core,
I'm simply thankful I've things
I can be thankful for.

Details | Jim Slaughter Poem

The Ballad of Daphne and Jack, the Sequel

Gather 'round me, my dears,
I'll continue the tale
Of a princess and her pirate lover.
Of her crown unencumbered,
They pillaged and plundered
As they wandered the seven seas over.

Crimes maritime were elating
And invigorating
'til Jack noticed a bulge in her tummy.
The princess first was offended,
But then she comprehended
He would soon be a dad, she a mommy.

Two months later, one morn, 
Daphne's baby was born,
She said, "Time to rethink our position.
If we stay here, our child
Will grow wicked and wild,
We must provide better, milder conditions."

Jack's crew were confused 
When he told them the news,
All they knew how to do was be pirates.
None of them had a dime,
And all too far past their prime
To go home and move in with their parents.

Jack chuckled and chided, 
Their fears he derided,
And then much to their mirth and enjoyment,
He said, "We'll start a new industry
That sells hospitality
And offers year-round and seasonal employment."

Do you remember the king?
That mean, stingy old thing
Died alone in his big empty palace.
But before his reign ended,
His will was amended,
And Princess Daphne inherited alles.

She thought the place would work well
As a swanky hotel
Or a posh B&B just for pirates.
But Mad Jack and his gang
Were arraigned and then hanged,
They should have kept their retirement more private.

And thus, dear ladies and dudes,
My narration concludes
About Daphne's and Jack's days of glory.
She turned her dad's mausoleum
Into a pirate museum
And made a killing, some say,
Conducting tours every day
For visitors who'd pay
To hear a pirating princess' story.

Details | Jim Slaughter Poem

Versatility

Versatility, versatility,
I have no problem with that,
But my versatility's
Not virtuosity,
Those two don't go tit-for-tat.

It's a true revelation
When my inspiration
Comes seemingly out of thin air,
But I don't analyze
I just write and revise,
I'm so happy my muse is still there.

I write both allegorically
And metaphorically,
My verses may well make you think.
Frequently whimsical,
But never flimsical,
I don't let them loose if they stink!

I love writing terse verse
And cherish long free verse,
Though I prefer verses that rhyme.
They're lyrical, comical,
Sensual, spiritual,
Whate'er be my mood at the time.

I write poems to please,
Not earn royalties,
Though I wouldn't say no to some pay,
And hope that my versatility
Will show literarily
That I have something worthwhile to say.

Author's note: I never want to put my muse in a box with a label.

Best Poems Written by Jim Slaughter

The Ballad of Daphne and Jack, a Romance of the High Seas

A Poet's Pledge

Mediclueless, a Hypochondriac's Lament

Let There Be Limericks: a Little Bit Biblical I

Some Final Thoughts for 2024

There's Never Been a Time

Refurbished Fairy Tales: Cinderella, If the Shoe Fits Part Two

Many Thanks

The Ballad of Daphne and Jack, the Sequel

Versatility