Besot Poems | Examples

Death

Here Death strode and left its trace
Where laid its hand to mark the place
Bade stony pages stand in waiting
To offer up in silent greeting
Final words for those distressed
Written out on granite stones
Under which in Deaths caress
Lie sedentary bones
Whose dreaming now is not besot
In earthly tasks nor woes begot
For Death to those in quiet repose
Bequeathed lifes last refrain
And eyes and lips forever closed
For evermore abstain
Yet with a dreamers certainty
Now ponder for eternity
The meaning spake in timeless odes
Upon which Deaths surcease bestowed

What's This Picture Worth

It has been said pictures are worth a lot
A photo of this wanna be big shot
Leaves no room for doubting
Like a child he's pouting
With want to rule the whole world, he's besot

Fallen Leaves

Humans are quite a deciduous lot.   
It's our nature, but not Mother's motif. 
We fall from grace without faith and belief 
when fleshly flaws make us stumble, besot.  
Tousled emotions are tied in a knot   
as though weatherbeaten, love ends in grief.  
Reddened eyes, the shade of a cast-off leaf    
from tears spilled and splattered like an ink blot.   

We fall in and out of love. It's a chance  
taken, like planting trees for greenery.   
Then, we watch deciduous leaves perish,   
borne on blustery winds in one last dance.  
Windswept limbs despoil Winter's scenery.  
Love and lush foliage, we should cherish.

At Peace

I went out on a summer’s evening
Alone, but not lonely in thought
For I was a lover of every oak tree
I was a bride by the twilight besot

And for a single golden blue hour
I was one with the vespertine breeze
For nothing in all of the earth or the air
Could keep me from feeling at peace.

Free Diving

In superhuman ability or the golden ring sought 
filling the lungs to capacity into the waves besot 

Faster and deeper into the depths sleek as if born to this world
Seeing what few will ever as around its denizens swirled

Diving off an undersea high rise of stones  not trodded by men
my own breath becoming troubled she dives deeper and deeper again

Sprinting  alleyways on the seas floor between walls cut precisely by time
Or chiseled by The will of God a workmanship sublime


The danger of becoming so fully entranced must remain uppermost in mind
As to aid in the returning to the world of the land breathing kind

Unencumbered free flowing soaring leaping in a single bound
how does she talk herself into returning to this now unhallowed ground

Awash in this world without chaos quieted by purpose of thought
Off the wheel off the chain this my friend can't be bought

Watch it yourself see what I mean live it through the fearless eyes
Of a free diver plunging into the surf to traverse it's watery skies

Old Soul

In that we are all a vassal to age
  no sceptre or mitre can set us free,
and no fealty can old time assuage
  or rail against its synchronicity.
For ever decreasing circles besot 
  the cognisance of what and who we are,
yet I am not fogged to what time begot
  but wise to your end and your exemplar -
of all our earthly labours and pleasure,
  and all that was ventured and lost or won 
for insofar love is the true measure
  I shall be its keeper when you are gone.
Alas, no mortal thing this world outlast
yet still the risen sun your shadow cast.


         Written: November 2010

Explanation - But Lisa Ricci Said Don'T Long Ago

I
The scripture I read
Rebukes lust and greed
My Lord will forgive
Change how we live
Love God, love people:
Not pastor, church, steeple

II
I have Hindu family
They offer their homily
On forgiveness too often
Basics of love, shun
So, I write poetry
To add to missionary
Tools, a biblical education
God offers ALL SALVATION

FOOTNOTE: I am a missionary in South Africa at this time. It is common in this diverse country to focus on popular themes of Love, forgiveness, charity. But many pursue lives besot with addictions to drugs and illicit sex, yet get government "welfare" based on child- bearing. Family stability has not been connected with family welfare payments. It is both sad yet an opportunity for our small team. Our desire is to help folk value their/ our environment, too. All aspects of this work show little progress, but I preach all truths in the Bible. Shalom shalom

I'M a Simple Woman

I read other people's poetry and I wonder to myself, 
Where do they conjure up their massive vocabulary?
The words I don't know, I write down; and I have quite a list.


Some of these English words, I know belong somewhere between here and Ireland, but maybe in another century, with Coleridge or Thoreau.  But yet,
here we go. Betwixt, bemuse, besot, who writes like this? 

I have looked up more fanciful, interestingly new words in a month than I knew existed, and I used to think I knew some words. Keep them coming, my Poetry Soup pen pals. I am fascinated, and learning a new vocabulary  faster than I thought possible.

At faculty meetings people are asking, "What are you doing?" I'm looking up words, I tell them.  Lots of eye rolling; these are teachers, and many, I am afraid, have not opened a book since college but you didn't hear it from me.
I'm a simple woman, not a snitch.

I Am Broken

Legs that can’t fly
Heart that can’t love
Lips dry
Kisses under go a rye

I am blind
Only seeing within the past lens
Only holding on to memories
That wont last
Your sweet smile fades away
As I whispered in my deepest of dreams

Now I live inside insane mad thoughts
You have moved on
I am not longer in your way
My love lingered
No more can I sway

Your beauty
My dreams
I have lost directions
Flowers never come in May

Waves’ roll to shore
Angels play in the tempest sea
They know not love was not for me
Blankets keep the royal lovers warm

I left to winters charm
Coldness is my home
Chilled thoughts haunt my very bones
Broken and all alone

Forlorn
Battles yet fought
Over me grave
Besot, tears still drop
Underneath

Poetic flowers bloom

Lay of Love

O! My love, come lie on my lap;
And tell your besot stories…
Q! Frozen breeze, come tickle us;
And lilt your mellifluent songs.
 
 
We are roses in Venus’s garden;
And our souls are honeyed pollens.
We would seize every moments;
And really see it…live it and inure it.
 
 
Dear! Death may swipe our bodies;
But snarl betwixt souls are perennial.
Remember and lilt the song again;
Love is perennial but life is ephemeral.

To Be In Love

To be in love along the rushing shore
And hear sounds from your heartbeat to enslave
To kiss your hungry lips, then wanting more
Obtaining love's desire, its constant crave
Besot, beneath this dazzled sky, I find
Love's lightning splays a light that clears my view
Such echoed worlds, warm soft as waves inclined
Submerged through quiet eyes, a love so true
My hand entwined in yours, we bond as one
While watching footprints fade in pebbled sand
To spy a reddening sky and setting sun
While falling into night, at stars command

We'll feel the waves upon our warmest skin
And touch the stars, as dawn arouses in

Written by Mystic Rose & Frederic Parker
                March 3, 2014
For contest, Collaboration.. sponsored by Jared Pickett

Belladonna

I see you in my dreams
An unravelled seam,
A faded place,
Struggling to resurface,
An irrefutable alteration in my life's plan,
Branded and irrevocable throughout my lifespan
Leaving tear-stained cheekbones
And whispered tones
Depthless emptiness in my trembling heart
Trails of scar tissue as you depart
Stilling the voices in my melancholic mind,
Memory I see has truly been unkind
For here you were and here you are not
My heart and my soul remains besot
As I glide through the mires and murky without care,
Your cruelty has erased my concept of fear,
There is no life in these arms to reach forth,
No craving or wanting to be sought,
If there is a thing to cure what is ailing me,
Darkness dictates that even that will fail me.

Husbands Are In Heaven Whose Wives Scold Not

‘t was on a rainy day in Camelot
A knight saw a maid he liked a lot
Before he paid heed
He remembered, indeed
Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not

The maid, it seemed, had almost forgot
The words of her mother, whose name was Dot
For marital bliss
Remember just this 
Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not

The knight with the maid was quite besot
And after a time they tied the knot
She never did scold
He did not grow old
Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not

The end of this tale may surprise a lot
Because heaven is not the place he got
 Words one day you may recall
Some, but certainly not all
Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not

Robert Burns P Is For Poet

Robert Burns  - P is for Poet.

Intro- Rabbie Burns stated on his deathbed on 27th July 1796 that he did not want the Awkward Squad i.e. Scots Military firing a tribute to him at his graveside.Burns wish was not granted and he died with full military honours with thousands lining the streets of Dumfries, Scotland.

At the graveside the Scots Military fired three volleys as the dirt was shoveled into his grave.


P is for Poet

Peasantry pulled by independent thoughts
Posthumous plaudits, academics besot
Penury not privilege, to which you were born
Poor ploughman's son, sowed our new poetic dawn

Prescriptions for passion and artistic artillery
Paradoxical pilgrim in heaven's distillery
Poetic pied piper, peat-fuelled injected ink
P is for poet, from your chalice we'll drink

Persecuted profile, diagnosis was death
Painful, your passing, blood in your last breath
Pistols point skywards, as Awkward Squad fire!
Pageantry and pomp as dying wish expires.


RIP ROBERT BURNS.

Robert Burns P Is For Poet

Robert Burns  - P is for Poet.

Intro- Rabbie Burns stated on his deathbed on 27th July 1796 that he did not want the Awkward Squad i.e. Scots Military firing a tribute to him at his graveside.Burns wish was not granted and he died with full military honours with thousands lining the streets of Dumfries, Scotland.

At the graveside the Scots Military fired three volleys as the dirt was shoveled into his grave.


P is for Poet

Peasantry pulled by independent thoughts
Posthumous plaudits, academics besot
Penury not privilege, to which you were born
Poor ploughman's son, sowed our new poetic dawn

Prescriptions for passion and artistic artillery
Paradoxical pilgrim in heaven's distillery
Poetic pied piper, peat-fuelled injected ink
P is for poet, from your chalice we'll drink

Persecuted profile, diagnosis was death
Painful, your passing, blood in your last breath
Pistols point skywards, as Awkward Squad fire!
Pageantry and pomp as dying wish expires.


RIP ROBERT BURNS.

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