Best Élan Poems
Poor little Zena zebra was feeling oh so sad
She was born an albino, which made her look bad
Zena desperately wanted to fit in with the others
And have a stripy body like her sisters and brothers
Zena thought hard and came up with a cunning plan
She would paint some stripes, so she’d have great élan
Zena went shopping in a local hardware store
Bought some black paint for the stripes she’d adore
Her stripes were brushed on by a trusted friend
But quickly the can of paint came to an end
Sadly Zena hadn’t got any more money
Her half painted body looked rather funny
How the other zebra’s laughed at poor Zena
They called her names; they couldn’t be meaner
But good luck was on little Zena’s side that day
The rain lashed down and washed the paint away
For Zena had purchased watercolour paint
Now Zena’s back to white and she has no complaint
She stands out in the crowd because she is unique
Yes she’s different from the others but her look is oh so chic
Zena stands proudly in her white coat which shines so bright
She is delighted to say not everything in life is black and white
Moral of the story it is our differences that make us unique
A delightful Children’s fable Contest Sponsored by Carol Eastman.
Submitted to z contest old or new
Sponsored by Constance La France
07~10~16
I wore fear
like a winding sheet,
leaving behind trails
of dead dreams
I held hope in my hands
and weeping, it slid
through my fingers
evaporating to naught
I undulated to music
praying for redemption
within the passage,
I was left bereft, still, taciturn
but by relinquishing velleity
into the firmament,
and smashing my glass heart
for the loves' of my life
I've begun to believe
in miracles again,
I am finding the way
that comforts my soul
A shimmering
lavender light,
shines with serenity
burns out the fear
and builds a blaze of hope,
by loving without doubt
the whips of regret
are now unmoving
fires have been stoked,
this mystery now has élan
I am flesh, reborn out
and into this life, once again.
Before He was born in this earth,
Angel announced Christ Jesus' birth;
When He was born, a tiny boy,
Angels declared it - Oh! What joy!
He grew up, not with much élan,
But in favour with God and man;
After fasting, came temptation,
Then came angels' ministration;
Three and a half years of preaching,
With His Love to people reaching;
Then He went to Gethsamane,
Praying there in deep agony,
An angel came down from heaven,
Just, in order, Him to strengthen;
He hung on the cross sinister,
No angels came to minister;
An eternity of silence
Followed His affliction intense;
On the third day morning, they came,
Christ's resurrection to proclaim;
On the mount after forty days,
He ascended 'midst angels' praise;
Right from birth till His ascension,
In Christ's life, they had a mention.
Ev'n today, angels are singing,
With His praise, heavens are ringing
He sends them down to protect us,
When we choose to serve Lord Jesus.
08/08/18
TWO WORLDS MANIPULATED
During this stage of development, I seek élan vital.
The creative principle that provides métier and impulse.
In that, the essence of the soul pursues her life choice.
Recourse is palpable.
*****
The breeze was so relaxing that I felt like falling asleep outside.
Lying in my gazebo with the branches of my deciduous trees stretched vast and wide.
Yet my mind did not want to disengaged with the thoughts that preoccupied.
(Maybe this is because I live life in a focus in that all aspects may manifest a takeover).
But oh, immanently I know that a bottle of emotions can explode.
So I took a deep breath and said all things that are possible can be known and achieved.
In meaning, I have to accept those things that must be depleted.
As I yawn, I experienced an aura and my eyes recede into stupor and a dream.
I am walking amidst the trees.
|_______________________________|__________________________________|
Written March 2, 2016!
Plenty of room in « Le Foot »* for Soccer
For Doug Vinson at PoetrySoup.com
I
Not long ago King Pelé
Set “le foot” in America
Today his peoples’ muted “Olé”!
Rue the day at Maracana
Now from coast to conniving coast
Your Can-Can gals kick “le balon”*
No Wall in between the goal-posts
To win at summit many a “galon”*
Alright! Keep your cherished football
Iced-hoc-key bounced balls in basket
But let echo corked-leather on “saule”*
Crikey! "le cri-cri"* of “le cricket”
II
Tremble at the hakka-cry of the All Blacks
Cringe before Aussie toughs at Springbok élan
And let them romp with the Six-Nation packs
Over your greens with fifteen Argentinian
Call out to the run-machine Little Master*
And let his blade flash home-runs tout azimut
Over heads of fielders spectators and trainer
And let your millions throb and catapult
Your new knights sans armour in world arena
And gasp at fresh records topple centuries*
On pitch and turf in Tests across suburbia
And join the world in friendly rivalries.
*"Le Foot"or "Le Fut": French for football/soccer.
*"le balon": French for ball.
*"le(s) galon(s)": French for "stripes" as in "to win one's stripes in battle" (gagné ses galons au combat) .
*"le saule": French for the willow tree. "Willow" is metonymy for the cricket bat as the latter is made from the tree.
*"le cri-cri": familiar French for "le grillon", the insect cricket.
*"Little Master", sobriquet of Sachin Tendulkar, the retired legendary Indian test-cricketer, the counterpart of the Brazilian Pelé in soccer. See my poem: "The Little Master: Sachin Tendulkar", my most-read ever poem.
*"centuries": batting records in cricket run into a few centuries, mostly in five-day international test-matches.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Against the wall I was his devi
Pressed tight beside his soul
Skin so hot it burned through mine like a fever
Warming my muscles
Warming my pulse
Fueling my movement
Touching my body he was my sher
Braving my imperfections
Lips so thirsty they tasted mine with frenzy
Spinning my thoughts
Spinning my surroundings
Driving my feelings
It was…
Underneath the materialistic piles
Cotton, polyester, and satin
He saw my secret nature
Underneath my pigmented eyes
Crushed Lala and gloomy brown
He saw my Élan vital
Underneath my damaged Pericardium
He found my beating heart.
Alumish and Alumina great couple of Rutabaga
Went on honeymoon to the kingdom of Father Alibaba
They sat on alundum
Kissed the son Pellandum
Both planned an élan elanddom in African savannah ha ha
Alumish and Alumina/Limerick Copyright© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
November 16 2014
Animal Farm
The youth of today; the ‘avant-garde’ of new lingo, lost words
‘Ennui’ of wisdom, with a blatant ‘cacophony’ of disrespect
‘Carte blanche’ entitlements pave a highway to absurdity
What once was ‘anomaly’, has become, a ‘bona fide’ threat
The ‘élan’ of our youth, self-absorbed with the screen
Their windows to the world encumbered only by a charge
The character constraints abbreviate a slang stream
As an Orwellian ‘déjà vu’, eighty-four is not far
But these ‘dilettantes” of tech, with an emoji style speak
Will never, understand; the ‘baroque’ of a poem, makes you weak
Contest: 10 Words, 10 Lines 2
Sponsor: Silent One
1/17/2018
Required Words:
-Anomaly
-Avant-garde
-Baroque
-Bona fide
-Cacophony
-Carte blanche
-Déjà vu
-Dilettante
-Élan
-Ennui
when another (anointed as lady lucky)
resident renter bequeathed her bed
prior to that good samaritan deed thyself and spouse
slept on the floor like dogs dead
tired from another day acclimatizing ourselves,
especially when tummies got well fed
and grudging adjustment per lying supine upon the carpet
did upon arising found aches and pains from head
to toes, yet financial shortcomings disallowed this Jed
eye wannabe to defer attending domestic chores,
cuz ma whole body felt like a Led
Zeppelin, and matter of fact oft times,
thy body electric,
though lacked no evidence of disease NED
for short, I near felt a need to relearn basic motor skills,
gingerly, and eagerly reached for
performance enhancing drug i.e. PED
which coded identification
exemplified the a rich color of red
this (and other) prescription medication
(about a half dozen total found me to sleep akin to a Ted
dee bear, many instances of snoring
thine wife claimed emanated –
probably no more than when we wed
if memory serves me correctly
twenty plus years a husband aye attest
and find peace of body, mind and spirit
most exuberant and best
cherished, when hen pecking wife (yup, this husband
got pecking, pock, puck size marks
to vouchsafe his sworn statement)
some visible on my slightly flabby and hairless chest
and if traced with a ball point pen,
the shape loosely resembles mount Everest
with evidence of what appears to be erosion,
but actually evidence of wifely cannibalism –
viz zit on par as with an unwanted guest
which at first found this pop (sic) hull
averse to share the same firm mattress lest
she arise like a flesh eating zombie
during the wee hours of the morning and taking nest
ling to another level, whereby teeth
and scratch marks sure testament asper a pest
stiff ferrous mate, this husband would sooner bid adieu,
letting fate guide terrestrial quest
that might incorporate undergoing
the electric kool aid acid test
perhaps buffeting this corporeal essence north west
or maybe the unforeseen sojourn
would spirit thyself to a distant alien nation
one where each day of soundness of mental, physical
and spiritual growth will be reason enough
to celebrate with élan and zest.
A Second in Court
A déjà vu to centuries past is just a quantum peak
to glimpse the courtly, avant-garde in session to critique
Baroque and Renaissance displays, pointing as they speak,
admiring slight anomaly that makes some art unique.
With ennui they gave no ear to a dilettante’s entreat
knowing only, it’s the king and queen’s élan you have to meet.
A cacophony of tongues gossiped outcomes so discreet,
stood waiting for the bona fide applause, “Oh magnifique!”
Royal people had carte blanche to make artists great or weak
sometimes not ever finding those with natural technique.
iambic heptameter 14 syllables a line
1/26/18
From You have come the wonderful things
That brought me joy and spread my wings
I soar today above the stabs and stings
That unfriendly bias so often brings.
The lightning that came was looking for me;
You deflected it far and away from me.
The snowstorm stayed miles from my town.
The deluge was gone: I did not drown.
For me the trees are green, with élan
Flowers bloom, their colors transform
Nature to a friendly warmth and charm
A rhapsody in hearts they do perform.
For me the sun, the moon, the stars
That bring in bounties, relieve my pain.
I’m no longer alone, I cry not in vain
Hope and faith are, in me, just born again.
In these radiant hands, let me bury my face,
Kiss them with my eyes and seek the grace,
Shed tears and wash away forever the trace
Of an unholy past, its pain and its fiery haze.
Suffering ennui was not an anomaly for me
but tonight was filled with an excited cacophony.
I was a dilettante with an élan avante garde,
and a nod to the baroque.
My handsome sponsor had given me carte blanche
and beautiful models looking like beautiful birds
danced and pranced backstage
in bona fide ostrich feathers and stilettos.
Then it came: “Lights, music, curtain!”
and a wonderful feeling of déjà vu.
By: Carole O'Terry Duet
Copyright: Jan. 22, 2018
"All Rights Reserved"
For the very first time in my whole long life
Things are sailing along tickety boo
Don't ever remember a time quite like this
On top of the world cuz of you
You've turned my world all topsey turvey
Loving it, as happy as it gets
Been sailing along on cloud number nine
Haven't quite gotten over it yet
Probably never will and why would I want to
It's the greatest feeling known to man
This tickety boo feeling, this feeling of love
There's nothing to match this élan
If you think that it's some great formula
I'd simply say look in your heart
Everyone possesses this ability to find love
The heart's the best place to start
For the very first time in my whole long life
Things are sailing along tickety boo!
© Jack Ellison 2013
As a certified, bona fide woman of a grown-up sixteen,
she light-stepped with grace thru the baroque castle.
She wanted to tell her Father of the déjà vu she gleaned
at last night’s élan party scene with a man who dazzled.
She gave her fantasies carte blanche to freely travel
for she was but a love dilettante, still romance green
and unsure what her anomaly feelings could mean.
She found the King, Father, leaning on an avant-garde mantel,
his manner ennui, despite the cacophony of swords at cavil.
Knowing her, he said, "No talk of new suiters, many already battle."
... CayCay Jennings
January 25, 2018
A fresh aroma of the winter roses bore upon
The break of the day light, the first ray hold upon
By the droplets beaded over the floral leaf
Mulled over by the sight so mimetic
The life glazed over the mist filled by the charismatic.
An ecstatic jubilation bided by the Christmas carol
The gala affair of the sunset, the last ray hold upon
By the beloved savored over the time cajole
Relived over by the chorus so balmy
The rendezvous solemnization blended by the carmine patty.
A warm welcome of the edging resolutions blessed upon
The solemnity of Mary, the first greet hold upon
By the wishes ordained over the coming élan
Pleased over by the time so worth
The time of the year met with the springtime growth.
Anew Sun brought upon the garden, bore upon
The green of the array, the first ray hold upon
By the moving moraine over the frost melted -
Drifted over by the season so pledged
The aroma suspired over the blue air, warmth blended.
Pooled by affections over the day choired by love, relived upon
Betrothals belonged forever, the first kiss hold upon
By the destiny manana over the time so limn -
Touched by the amity so dear
The warmth over the ardor met with sweetness so fair.
They held back for the bathe in the colour so motleyed, poured upon
The meme prevailed over decades across the east, the last ray hold upon
By the field blazed over the harvests so sear
Turned over by the air so brut
The time of the year met with the season so hot.
Note: Continued from Fragrance - II