Befit Poems | Examples

The Burial

     His days he spent pleasantly 
        as befit his soft upbringing
     running the family business
        counting the money pouring in
      leaving the real work to his brother

      One day their father passed – 
         deciding to attend the burial
       he was startled to see a rabbi presiding
          father was not Jewish, was he  

      Does that mean, he wondered – 
          could it be that I’m Jewish 
      But he dismissed the preposterous thought
          buried it deep in his conscience

The Thorns of Prior

Due depart and so, desire
The rose does not befit the choir

Jellicle Choice

Cats are an intriguing tribe.
They celebrate making the choice.
When you hear them, you catch the vibe
at the height of their Heaviside voice.
With lively reveling, they rejoice!

Cats are known for meditation
that mere humans can only surmise.
They devote much contemplation,
being both cunning and wise,
in choosing the one to die and arise.

So when you hear the bawl at night
do not rage or enter a snit.
It is this night they delight
in debating the worth of kith and kit
and contend themselves befit.

Humans contemplate immortality
in somber, immutable terms.
Cats view transition as formality 
for it is death that life affirms
and only life that death confirms.

Ode to Boredom Bliss

When boredom knocks upon your door,
Life can become a dreadful bore,
Don’t fret, don’t cry, don’t belie your eyes,
For creative magic within this boredom lies.

Your mind, stuck in idle neutral gear,
Begins to wander, from here to far and near.
It dreams up worlds of pure wild delight,
Where dreams make hay, and pigs take flight.

You start to hum silly humdrum tunes,
Launch and pop, soap bubble balloons.
You doodle dragons, fierce and grand,
Build huge grandiose castles out of sand.

For when the mind has naught to do,
It finds crafty ways to something new.
It spirals, twirls, in happenstance.
Kicks up its heels in random dance.

You write a play, perform a skit,
For no one but your cat befit.
So three cheers to boredom, long may it last,
For it breaks the drudge of treadmill fast.

The Steadfast Love Of The Lord - Psalm 33

Make melody always to the Lord
with praise to befit the upright
a lover of righteousness and justice
God's steadfast love is full of light

The Lord in His power made the heavens
even the waters are put in a heap
be sure to stand before God in holy awe
consider His majesty, moves one to weep

All the nations God brings to nothing
for God's counsel forever will stand
the blessing of God comes on those
who know God's hand upon their land

Looking down from heaven God sees man
on His throne He sees all of the earth
observing each and every deed
the Lord alone can bring new birth

The Lord is our help and shield
for we trust in His holy name
His steadfast love be upon us
we hope in God forever our aim

Psalm33

Ode To Kente

Colored checkered patterns
Dashing vibrant colors
Hand woven cloth strips
Dazzling geometric shapes.

Characterized weft designs
Vivid eye appealing texture
Ghana’s national cloth
Royals favorite outfit.

From coast of western Africa
An indigenous local brand
Handed from Ages to Ages
Maiden style left intact.

Renowned across borders
for its alluring tapestry marvels
Its cherished history staggers
Our obroni folks adore it.

Oh yes Africans just love it.
So get a piece of kente that befit
with its uniquely native patterns
And lets celebrate and project.

This is our heritage our culture our tradition.
This is Ghana’s premium kente
The Golden cloth from the midlands.

Death

Come to me sweetheart
pale and wane befit your name,
yes I named you
and not just that ordinary noun.
Come not sweeping grimly
but dressed for a wedding.
I call you my 'nightingale'
my little bird of sorrow and joy.
I watch you fly in the dark and light
bewitched by time and place
life beginning on the tips of each wing.
Come to me sweetheart,
let your dress fall over my eyes,
I shall be in you then
as your lover forever,
together we shall light the lamps.

I'M Lovin' It - Tm

She hums "Hmm" on my hymn, "I'm lovin' you"
And runs to crawl in a Delmonte queue
Demanding, "Better befit".
Then cackling, "I'm lovin' it,"	
Gulps my lovely gal there … Delmonte brew.

* A 1st Place* in the following contest (judged on Dec. 31, 2020)

Dec. 17, 2020
Trademark~~Quintain Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Sara Kendrick

Someone Just Like Me: Collaboration

The bright star, blinking in the crystal ball,
Was dazzling, puzzling, and mesmerizing,
Yet I chose a fairy princess from a wormhole,
    Listening to the yearns of my inner call.

You know, it cost me only five-word note:
“I like you; and you?” that reclined on a path;
No decline: a note returned in express post 
With a single box in the mid, marking her vote.

That fairy princess wriggles here to befit;
Wrestles, struggles, and battles with probes,
Unwittingly proving the prophetess’ wit
Tickling me, at times, for dropping that chit. 



Aug. 24, 2020 
Max 12 Lines – Poem-Inspired Prompt Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier

Reserata Carcerem Xlvi

*Reserata Carcerem XLVI*

Salient Sufi quondam was hexed;
haggard hags hoisted hurls 'n' were vexed,
apt alakazam gin behoved -
ere, he'd betrothed marred mercies thrown.

Pestered paddock anon hurled hymns,
pored panther knocked 'p gaunt 'n' gullible thrill,
apared asp pruned pulpy foils time tossed,
taunted trio 'n clumsy cauldron washed.

Sent they then wanky winds t' bear thence
ere sassy Sufi wh' loathed rec'mpense.
T' transient agora bore they him;
a felon furrow 'n an isle's lips.

Jolting judgement torn trio ñ him leased;
an attendant t' paddock 'n' asp's spree.
        '20:07:15:12:03

Note:
a) of jolting judgement.
b) Written apace with Middle English lexis:
i) Sufi - A mystic Muslim
ii) Hexed - to cast spell
iii) quondam - long ago
iv) hags - witches
v) gin (obsolete) - a trick
vi) behove - befit
vii) paddock - toad, frog
viii) Anon - immediately
ix) Apar - armadillo
x) asp - snake
xi) thence - from there
xii) ere - before
xiii) Agora - a place of gathering.
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) 'n' - and
ii) he'd - he had
iii) 'p - up
iv) 'n - in
v) t' - to
vi) wh' - who
vii) ñ - on

Seppuku :: Diabolo

Enemies won't spare those brave; by
opting seppuku, chose to die
never bothered.

Seppuku was not to commit,
‘twas to perform, ought to befit
ever honoured.

Event was part of more detail
ritual done outdoor; great tale
for rest to learn.

Performed before viewer to spread
the message for future; bloodshed
by best no spurn.
~*~*~
Note:: Seppuku sometimes known as hara-kiri, which is a native Japanese form of ritual suicide by disembowelment.
It was originally reserved for Samurai.

Forest Floor

Its puzzling how in this Forest
leaves like dead fluttering flakes fall around me,
sprinkling around my path 
while the ground beneath me rustles with rotten mulch,
layers of shedding smelling of decay and dust.
Layers of lineage around me, the canopy dripping
last remnants of a season.
I want to lay down and sleep.
To roll down into the berm of the forgotten
pulling a blanket of forefathers across me.
I imagine the moss would befit me,
like a pillow of springy green to greet my woes.
I think Ive lost the path, weeping, feet numb, tired in shock,
worn from rambling, looking for direction,
where leaves keep falling, obscurring directions.

Tis a Raven

'Tis A Raven 

'Tis a raven 
    'pon my head, 
Black and graven, 
     dead as dead. 
If I should wake 
     before the morn 
No more shall break 
     a golden dawn. 

'Twas a dark 
     night of nights, 
It left its mark 
    'pon restless sprites, 
If they return 
     before I rise 
Fear wouldst burn 
     my half-closed eyes. 

'Tis a mischief, 
     befit a child, 
A midnight thief 
     dreaded, wild, 
If I should feel 
     out of control 
Wouldst surely steal
     my dormant soul. 

'Tis ghostly screams 
     and black of wing, 
Of terror, to dreams 
     it does but cling, 
If I should stray
     betwixt life and death, 
It would but lay 
    'pon my breath. 

'Tis black as coal, 
     it dare not speak, 
My frightened soul 
     trapped in its beak,
No golden dawn 
    'pon my eyes, 
Where no child is born
     or old man dies. 

'Tis a raven, 
     the image of me, 
A child, craven, 
     in misery, 
If he should flit 
    'tween fear and dread 
I shall but sit 
     upon his head. 

©RJVHorton2019

25th December, 0ce

Behold the Christ child is born this day,
just as the prophets of old did say.
In a manger on the cozy hay
did his infant Lordship choose to stay.
No cradle by a thousand kings paid
for, would befit his divine highness
whose crown is celestial and priceless,
glowing with gems of regal brightness.
Yet in a manger so low he laid.

Behold the Christ child, God's timeless gift,
who will from sin's merciless bondage lift
men to heights from where they went adrift
from God's intended realm in Eden.
His birth in yuletide our lives sweeten
with lit golden marbles to lighten
dark alleys which were once stress ridden.

Oldage

Our car, among the classics
Our things, became antique
We, turned into relics
And our friends, befit a clique

Our cottage, now the hermitage
Our home, is a relique
Our life, will be a heritage
And when we talk, it’s a critique

What we do, has grown archaic
Our habits, turned oblique
Our thinking, esoteric
But now, we are unique
WIZDUMBs by JA 418

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