Best 22 Poems
A handsome man, a valiant son,
John Kennedy was he.
A man who rose to President
with civil rights the key.
Who can forget the many days
like Camelot they seemed,
when all eyes were on Washington,
they passed just like a dream.
Ah, we remember Jacqueline
a Vassar deb was she,
who walked with grace on his right side
through fame and infamy.
One thousand days was all we had
of this great President
before a gunshot took his life
for all the world to see.
We mourn him still, we miss his smile
his knowledge and his grit
for he and Martin dreamed a dream,
we reaped the best of it.
Natures fist, such bliss
climb the weeping willow tree!
so inspiring
Natures kiss, wet lips
clouds surround, I imagine.
Poetry firing.
We embrace, she twists
grooving to R&B tones.
Dancing, dry humping.
Her elegant grace,
amazing and entrancing.
Just look at her face...
Jared Pickett
10/3/09
Asavvy1
Being 22
And all the things that happen to you
You ain't got a clue where this will take you
But it's the best age, it's really so true
Falling in love
You catch dreams like a dove
You can see your hopes in the sky above
But you trade them again for a couple of $#§7
You may have the best time
And feel really damn fine
You can make it all up and create in your mind
But in the end it's gone for a dime
The best year is over
Better look out for cover
It's all gonna end in a supernova
Just like the luck of my four-leaf-clover
So baby, please make sure
Never feel too secure
Of the things that happen to you
When you're 22
The poison parrot is repulsed by me, hates my art, laughs at my poems.
sneers when I enter my imaginary world, pokes fun at it.
She throws roadblocks into my mood zone,
destroys my great ideas as fast as they enter my dendrite alley.
You think you are something! Ha! She laughs. You are less than nothing.
No one will like that. It is too sassy, too bright, too snotty, too tall, too snarly.
She snips away at me, chopping little pieces off, as I try not to cry.
You are an idiot! She yells at me, her favorite pastime.
Poison Parrot managed to hold me down, away from myself, for years.
She held me hostage in a prison I helped her build; I cowered in a scared way.
Until I met Savior Boy. Savior Boy did not know about Poison Parrot, for when
I was around him, I was confident, witty, sassy, fun,
out-going and memorably lovely.
He let me do his homework, and he received good grades,
praising me to high heaven.
The closer we became. the more self-assured I became,
assertive genius oozed out of me.
Poison Parrot was fearful now, she saw she was losing her grip.
She began yelling louder than ever.
“You are an idiot! You are worthless! You are a loser!”
I stopped hearing her. Savior Boy’s love and respect helped me
to clip her wings, and tape her beak.
By the time our children arrived, I had re-invented my self-talk.
I was now being talked to by Sophie,
a dynamic, self-assured, marvelous pixie queen who
believed in herself, and everyone else.
I released Poison Parrot and let her limp away,
saving no face at all, after Sophie arrived.
Plucking the Poison Parrot Number 156
Written: 1-6-2019 Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
Promise that when night fades,
and the daylight peeks into our hearts,
that when they tell you to stay away,
we wont ever be apart,
promise that youll love me,
even when i wont love myself,
and promise that when daylight breaks,
our love will still be there and well still be ourselves
Form:
running . . . denying
I am weary -- where can I go
your love pursues me
1. White silver crystals
winter coat over a garden bench
Summer dreams
***
2. Outside the window
the virgin untouched purity
the snow is here
***
3. Angels in the snow
White crystals flashes
The children excited
***
4. Blue gray clouds
Yellow ring around the moon
More snow coming
04.12.2013
A-L Andresen :)
Incineration of Love God Madan (Cupid) 22
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994. The work was written in Hindi somewhere around 1965-70.
Editing and English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Hindi Title ‘Madan Dahan’ 22
Heat expanded thus released,
On the entire lovely Earth,
Terrifying all creatures,
Fearing creation’s dissolution.
Showing how powerful, the man is,
Next to almighty on Earth,
Able to build or destroy,
Influenced by senses or wisdom.
The Sun stopped its motion,
Amazed by the happening,
It appeared as if, the Earth was,
Going to descend in pieces.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 12th May 2012
To continue….
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.
Another year has come and another birthday has arrived
I am 22 and man it feels good to be alive
Now a days with hurricanes and minimum wage
I see why it is hard to be alive
But I'm a junior in college
Trying to make it out so I can have something to give
Give what?
Is the question everybody asks me
I tell them a chance to see
How you go from a struggling student
To an all time role model or a masterpiece
At least I have a dream so you know it wont be the end of me
This chapter of my life
Will be closed by next fall
But with the transition from rags to riches it will be noted
that I must have given my all
Form:
Have you ever thought back and remembered a time,
when poor judgment nearly cost you… your prime.
There were fifty-22 cal bullets in the ammo box I found,
mishandling Remington’s bullets… could put you in the ground.
Putting the box in my pocket, thinking what should I do?
Squeeze off one in the barnyard vise… or maybe do two.
BANG! BANG! Loud reports and pungent gunpowder did abound.
How addictive that fragrance… 48 more lay waiting on the ground.
The next five/six bullets went into holes on the lip of the vise,
swinging that heavy sledgehammer… really felt nice.
Each bullet exploded leaving its’ brass case in the steel.
The heavy sledgehammer gave lead… no mortal body to feel.
BANG! BANG! BANG! The shells reported in rapid succession.
Used everyway possible firing all the bullets… in my possession.
50 times in a row I cheated death and great bodily harm.
God knows he was more than patient… that day on the farm.
* A true story. © 2010 John M. Trusty
22 Lines
By Nate Spears
I stand on top of the opinion of the mighty powers above
Staring into the eyes of their dominion
Keeping myself armed and fighting
In mind
In the order of a new world
In the order of new eyes
My spirit is old
In the order of new times
My heart lacks no fear
My hands lacks no wrong
So I have no tears
to let roll on
As The River Of Jordan splashes in red
My evil days shall past
Consistent with biblical teachings
I speak the truth consistent with loud speakers
Let freedom ring
While I’m running my fingers through the clouds
I've discovered a savior to save us
Now drip my sun light onto the best
Now drip my sun light onto the rest
Goodness shall fall from my fingers tips
Onto the pages
of my ink.
Psalm 22 foretells the crucifixion of Jesus or Father Christ
And lots would be cast for his clothes.
mist shrouded playground
whale pod rests, calfs pirouette
migration magic
Park bench encounter
Old man staring;
Faraway look
~~~~~~~~~
Financial district
Business downturn;
By this fringe
~~~~~~~~~
Stormy evening
Rain flows like oil;
Lightning dazzles
~~~~~~~~~
Lift landing
Blank faces congregate;
Alone together
~~~~~~~~~
Wind on my face
Rushing home;
Rain water wets
~~~~~~~~~
Somnolent interlude
Cricket musical;
Deep dark night
~~~~~~~~~
One by one
Bougainvilleas wither;
Floral carpet
~~~~~~~~~
Pre-war terrace house
Old time architecture;
Four bougainvillea pots
~~~~~~~~~
Bus stop crowd
Two others plus me;
A long wait
~~~~~~~~~
Chinese barbecue pit
Chinese roast meat shop;
Long customer queue
~~~~~~~~
Unique antiques
Old proprietor smiles;
Curious shop sign
~~~~~~~~~
Fashion parade
Glamour girls waltz;
Runway postures
~~~~~~~~~
Beer and buzz
Evening outing;
Boozy conversations
~~~~~~~~~
Parkway passage
Playground gossip;
Maids chatter
~~~~~~~~~
Hymn of morning
Birdsong choral;
Lost in translation
~~~~~~~~~
Huge ancient tree
Witness to change;
Silent sentinel
~~~~~~~~~
Humid overtures
Sun without wind;
Temperature runs riot
~~~~~~~~~
Chit-chat moment
Old lady neighbour;
Market trip
~~~~~~~~~
Weary legs struggle
Heavy load in tow;
Footsteps homeward
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
24 June 2016
Singapore
a pressed petal
between stained pages
his scent still lingers
- - -
a pressed petal
between stained pages
his fading scent