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Best Poems Written by Romeo Naces

Below are the all-time best Romeo Naces poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Punching Preachers

two bible-blabbering, prattling pastors

   from two denominational sectors

      ended up in stitches and bloody plasters;


those around said it actually began

   when one yelled, "faith alone can save a man!",

      the other screamed, "only charitable acts can!";


swinging bulky bibles, shouting curses,

   they whacked each other's eardrums and noses,

      bludgeoned and bloodied their righteous faces;


so ironic, how they maimed each other

   for faith, for charity and didn't bother

      to heed the Lord's words: "Love one another."

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Gloom In Bloom

Yellow petals shroud the glens in buttery bloom,

                                 concealing from the sun a shadowed gloom;


                                                             hapless furs,

                                                             get the curse;

                             beneath the bush feasts the fanged coil of doom!

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Afternoon Afterthought

Upon the roof, outside the walls,

                              now tapping soft its whispered calls,

                                              aftertaste of pain,

                                             this afternoon rain,

                                  like a  fading afterthought, falls.

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A Trophy's Atrophy

for it, the hot-blooded campus youth
   booed and cheered, fought and cheated;

      adrift in the hysteria of intramural sports,
         the losers wailed, the victors jubilated;


now dusty, it leans on a heap of rubbish,
   the Overall Champion trophy once golden,

      lost in the rubbles of the demolished gym,
         a relic of a youthful season long forgotten!

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Superstition

hornbill knocked on wood..

                    superstition understood..

           fly away it would.

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Crow's-Feet

so lovely , yet wearied and worried,
as she looks away with quiet terror

        from the sight of the faintest wrinkles 
        at the corners of her eyes in the mirror;



        he finds it silly, this undue anxiety,
        as she mumbles about crow's feet 

                that on her face she dreads to see,
                reflection she is  uneager to meet;
                


                he assures her they are but laugh lines,
                the true traces of real joys, happy times,

                         just skin-deep hints of deep-seated bliss,
                        amused, touched she is by this view of his.

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Locusts

like wayward thoughts,
in swirling swarm,
dark pestilence 
from nowhere
suddenly descends
upon verdant farms,
darkening the summer
noonday sky;

hapless, helpless,
whole villages
scramble, stumble,
trying to fan
smoky embers
of hastily built bonfires,
to stoke torches' failing flames,
ah, frantic futility!

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Michael's Crotch Dance

Them dancers, singers there on MTV,
why do they grab their crotches frequently?
     I've tried, but I still can't figure it out
     just what on earth that dance move's all about.

That crotch-clutching flick of a mannequin
must be a part of hip-hop hand routine
     with nothing there that's meant to be obscene,
     but which these prudish eyes just now have seen.

But then if it's because of poor hygiene,
it's time to see the doc, to check what's in between;
     if they won't wash and scrub themselves real clean,
     like chimps with lice, they'll scratch, they'll make a scene.

But sure, they know too well what should be done:
if they don't scrape the itch, it will be gone;
     well, Michael Jackson, dance king of all climes,
     at fifty, clutches still his crotch fifty times!

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As Always, Too Late

to ask to be forgiven 
and to truly forgive, 
to make amends, 
to soothe hurts with a vow,
the most opportune time,
my friend, is now;

             instantly we hate, 
             cautiously we love,
             belatedly we miss 
             and long for the one
             who has been unloved 
             now dead and gone;

                          postponing kindness, 
                          hesitantly, we wait,
                          tomorrow, as always, 
                          comes too late,
                          the undertaker knows 
                          the tears, the date.

Details | Romeo Naces Poem

Dangling Contemplation

What's a necktie 
dangling for?

     Too stiff, too thin 
     to be scarf, a bib 
     or an apron,

Too smooth to be 
a hankie,

     too short to be 
     a suicide noose
     to contemplate on!