Best 61 Poems
Mirrored Refrain
xaBA,xbAB,xaBA,xbAB
x represents the only lines that do not rhyme in this poem. A & B represent the refrain!
Linda-Marie
Angelic force,
draping over me, her canopy.
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster,
her spirits alive within me
You helped erect my "secret window"
Ambitiously chasing what I hunger!
Her spirits alive within me,
unmasking the wonder of this youngster!
Our poetry sessions, I sit and reminisce.
Stress free, under this willow tree
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster,
her spirits alive within me!
When depressed and blue you come through,
relax me when feeling vulgar.
Her spirits alive within me,
unmasking the wonder of this youngster!
Every verse meant to impress this poetess,
an essence of the empress I aim to please!
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster,
her spirits alive within me!
Harshest critic yet my biggest fan,
imperfections cast asunder
Her spirits alive within me,
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster
Death cannot take the gift I was given,
Linda-Marie!!
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster,
her spirits alive within me.
Jared Pickett
2/17/2014
Asavvy1
Cry to the Lord with a real passion
make sure you mean it by heart
believe in prayer that God hears
for if you don't no point to start
Prayer is a spiritual mystery
how God hears you in heaven
no matter where you're on earth
oh Lord hear me before it's eleven
In one's heart feeling overwhelmed
making loud cries to our heavenly father
knowing the certainty of God's love
makes one assured to come and gather
The psalmist asks to be lead
to a mighty towering rock
where their safety is assured
this is for all of God's flock
Lord help me, answer my prayer
thanks and praise goes to you
for your knowledge that's so divine
blessed be your name everlastingly true
(Psalm 61:1-2 (NLT)
"O God listen to my cry! Hear my prayer! From the ends of the earth, I cry to you for help when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the towering rock of safety.")
Triangle of death
UFOs- maybe reptiles of space ?
Unexplained powers
A story well told
Questionable assumptions
Who knows the answer ?
01.08.2015 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
When you’re born into this world of ours.
You have no idea if you’ll reach its ivory towers.
If you’re lucky to be born into a house of wealth.
Chances are, you’ll go far, have money for yourself.
And even if you aren’t a stiff, who got a lucky draw.
You can still makes millions, as we certainly have saw.
So what exactly is the definition of a successful life?
Money, fame, success, children and a loving wife?
My point of view is one that’s true, what my father told me.
Son, peace of mind, if you can find, you’ll never end up lonely.
I heard the words, not one absurd, but somehow didn’t listen.
For I’m 61, my life’s not fun, not an enviable position.
How I got here, perhaps that’s the question on your mind.
It would take a book to explain, how I came into this bind.
I’ll give you the short of it, I made some bad decisions.
And now it seems that I’m living in the Spanish Inquistion.
But you’re not dead you say, there’s more life has to give.
I agree and want to be out of this insane prison and to live.
Want to enjoy, to employ, the gifts and all the wonder.
And not be attacked, from the back and live a life asunder.
At 61, your life’s not done, you could have died at twenty.
You’ve had many years upon this earth, enjoyed it aplenty.
But if you’re broke, your fire’s unstoke, not a life of envy.
You ask yourself day and night, what will be my end be?
If I had fifty thousand dollars at this point in my life.
I’d create a machine, that would put away all my strife.
So if I can sell this house I own for more than what I bought her
I’ll take the profit, if I can, if I’m not underwater.
And with that money, this ain’t funny, I’ll make a whole lot more.
For I have ideas in my head that will even up the score.
It’s sad, it’s true what I must do, and list this property.
And chances are, I’ll go far, live life properly.
Haiku 61 _ Version 2
the neighbors arrive big rig diesel whumping our tiny trailer
Haiku 61
the neighbors arrive
big rig diesel whumping
our tiny trailer
full moon
filling honey jars
at dusk
Today I woke up
And realized that I was 61 years’ old
Felt that I had lived
And almost died
So many times
I have challenged life
And faced my fate
And yet
Through it all
I am still here
I am still here
And that means something
Something to me
And something to the universe
Yes, I am still alive
And kicking
And nothing is stopping me
Yet still I wonder
Still I wonder
What does it all mean?
winter sun
shines on snow drift
deep footprints
~~~
freezing rain
upon the sidewalk
slippery slopes
~~~
frozen ice
upon the pond
skating rink
~~~
14/02/16
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 61
Evil-doers at heart are the worst cowards
Since the war-path pullulates in their numbers
They conceal their greed in faces turned backwards
The Yi Jing’s strategy compels turning inwards
Do big power foreign policies discount dollars
Aren’t evil-doers at heart the worst cowards
To seek peace in one’s well-being needs no words
Must countries sans big wing span claim to be powers
They conceal their greed in faces turned backwards
Turn not inwards for fear of others making inroads
Can what applies to countries fall on wax-clogged ears
Evil-doers at heart are the worst cowards
Yin left to itself cannot but collapse inwards
Retreat into the safety of the self indoors
They conceal their greed in faces turned backwards
The cavernous mouth sucks on its own innards
Shun the cannibal who feeds on his own neighbours
Evil-doers at heart are the worst cowards
They conceal their greed in faces turned backwards
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Prayer poem ..
my call out 61
I who in long hour ..
low down in despair
I who need repair
And confidence
I who mourn
In struggle
I who tremble
Who is lost
I who hurt
And in pain
I who cry
For hope
I who is rejected
And failed
I who pray
For redemption
On my knees
For rescue ..
Show your greatness in my sky
Save me with your might my God
O Lord lead me
Don't pass me by
Give me sanctuary
O my Shepherd
Cast the dust away
Forgive my disobedience
Let me live little longer
Small and weak
I am now
Let me not be scared
Lead me Lord
Touch me Lord
Take me back with
Joy, grace and glad
My psalm of 61
Oh! wind those windows down!
Gitchigumi, race your breath through my soul!
fill me with the strength your sons
Hubert and Walter gave us!
Oh Highway 61...bring me to your cliff tops,
let me feel the passion for justice
your brothers, Humphrey and Mondale gave us!
Pray I help just one unfortunate heart,
just one embittered soul....
Oh! wind those windows down!
Gitchigumi, race your breath through my soul!
-tribute to two of my heroes
The radio announcer lady on 91.9 FM
sounds about thirty-five years old. I wonder
how many hearts she’s broken in her time
and, for that matter, how about you?
Try to count them all up,
Two? Twenty? Two hundred thousand?, then
give yourself forty lashes,
because it’s all the same.
There is a desperate bent in Men who lose,
A silent howl that seeks the lie to prove,
That She Loved Him, who otherwise did choose,
And shunned him! Seek with teaspoon seas to move,
And you, my friend, my silent fool, my boy
Will suffer for your faith, for ‘twas ill-placed.
Why can you not believe? Why must you toy
With fantasies? The calms with which you’re graced
Must be your roadstead now – your sails repair!
Pound in the caulk! Reseat the mast and cast
Anchor! From storms rest, now the way is fair!
From hopes to ropes and rigging! Sail on past!
She loved well as she could, but did not want
You! Fool! Let past be passed, hopes no more taunt!
I see the desolate stares of the poor huddled masses.
Clothes piled in a corner, a woman stirs as each person passes.
The putrid smell of weed and urine fills the air, I choke on the smell.
I search my soul and my heart cries out to those that live in this Hell --
An abyss where people go to get away from the harsh realities of this world.
The grief I feel for those who lay upon the ground, with sleeping bags unfurled.
I listen in earnest to stories of suffering and pain that seem to fill this place.
I see the lines and creases upon the brow of a woman with haggard face.
The Lord has brought the good news forth to those poor, broken spirits.
Isaiah, humble prophet, summoned to preach to all who'd hear it.
Sweet Jesus, send fourth your love and mercy to those under the bridge
and Lord I pray that the words I write will summon faith and courage,
to those who attempt to turn blind eye to these poor souls in need.
America, cover not your ears to the poor, and my words I beg you take heed.