Best Accumulate Poems
Oh if I were a true poet
one that could write a good rhyme
I would compose a few ones
and earn myself a dime.
Why, I'd write about man's folly,
as the robin said to the sparrow:
"Why are men so stupid
their minds so clouded and narrow?"
The sparrow cocking his head replied:
"They accumulate facts and lies,
Little caring about their true intent,
Alas, they are not really very wise."
The robin looked at his red breast,
remembering a Man on a cross,
how He bled, and sighed and suffered
all because of man's grace loss.
The sparrow nodded and smiled.
"Wisdom is not acquired by knowledge, my friend.
It comes when in our lives we've failed
and when we truly try to comprehend."
If I have the time, I’ll wait eons, to greet you in scarlet dawn
As you marvel its vermillion garb embossing marigold arc
Emanating golden sparks, piercing hazy contours of dark
While gilded ripples glisten pond, where floats a snazzy swan.
Listen I’ll, to the music of morn, in songs of gentle breeze
Quivering new growth on barren trees where chickadees sing
Shedding dread of winter, in adoration of vibrant spring
As you thrill in waltzing hills, where green conifers wheeze.
Ambling through idyllic meadows of my coveted dreams
I’ll emerge in gilt-sunshine on silken petals glinting dew
Where pink and purple rosy blooms enliven to enchant you--
Meeting you where giggling streams glitter in amber beams.
By your side in a quiet spot, I’ll watch the sparrows fly by
Hopping from branch to branch in euphoric random dance
Scurrying suddenly in curvy flight, inviting your glance
Celebrating freedom, flying high, into expansive blue sky,
And compose a chapter of doting allegory in romantic glory
Lingering in hearts where cadent verses of desires sway
Turning up the tempo, letting life’s ravishing rhythms play
As hours and days accumulate slowly, into eternal love-story.
December 17, 2019
Placed 1st: If you have the time for an enclosed rhyme poetry contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
HM: Strand select 10 contest by Brian Strand
“Of time you would make a stream upon whose
bank you would sit and watch its flowing…”
From On Time, by Kahlil Gibran
If you could imagine time as a beauteous spring
Blossoming your life, charming euphoric dreams
I am sure you will regret not having enough of it
Reveling fondly, vibrantly, on prairies, tributaries
Bouncing blue-tides gaily, buoying cerulean seas
Traversing through seasons without ever ceasing
Yet, it lengthens or shortens much to our chagrin
Depending on whether in happiness, or in grief,
Reminiscing in love, or despising pensive memories
Days of yesteryears, though long gone and spent
Seeds that were sown then, now produce harvests
Either wailing in laments, or lauding of goodness
Time yet to come may find~ a tomorrow elusive
So invest it on today, elevating it to exhilarating
When your song is playing, opt to waltz and sing
Paint time immortal on portrait of angelic deeds
Hang on the walls of future your timeless legacy
Be the finite world priceless, that ticks to infinity
Let your time accumulate to meaningful centuries,
Don’t watch it pass you by, decaying in unworthy,
Offer time an inspiration to build your own destiny
November 7, 2021
Placed 1st: “T” Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Time
Nature says create and rejuvenate.
Beasts cooperate and repopulate.
Sun’s rays dominate; showers saturate!
Blooms that fascinate soon accumulate.
Bees don’t hesitate to participate
as they pollinate. Isn’t springtime great!
Written April 28, 2017
for John Hamilton's Rhymers delight-internal monorhyme-2 Contest
Since childhood,
as alexithymia struck my soul.
I kept all my hopes a secret,
hidden in a bucket of unshared dreams.
I kept my soul sweet like marshmallows,
but life has finally caught up with me,
Like a fast car overtaking recklessly,
leaving me behind in the slow lane -
and I'm running out of fuel.
I'm a vehicle of flashbacks from flashlights,
fatigued from embracing the old,
preparing for freshly brewed emotions.
Yet they deprive me at every dawn,
as new beginnings are always challenging.
Suffocating in this silent selcouth slumber,
life tries to call my bluff, when it knows,
I am the master of my masquerade.
My soul pleads with fate to usher me with belief,
but I can see death at my doorstep,
creating intrusive insecurities like termites,
eating away at branches of my sanity,
feeding upon my ordained Orphic glory.
Emotions are an interior mechanism,
so many remain fooled by my exterior,
but I'm tired of searching for salvation.
You who claim to love me,
gift me a scented candle made with your hands,
so its sentimental scent can bring me peace.
Take me to a place without a name,
without a label,
without judgment -
without suffering.
Unchain me from jeapordising January jitters.
Free me from meandering in misty meadows,
which have misplaced me in foggy morning sunshine -
bring me clarity.
These are not random thoughts, random poems,
because my ink is tired from trying to find new metaphors,
to supplement an abundance of alliterations,
portraying humble happy horizons.
Love can be a false emotion,
when we yearn for reciprocal ravishing redamancy,
but when was love ever equal or even fair?
I have no resolutions, just to breathe with ease.
Sometimes love's presence made me feel aesthetic,
but sometimes a badly drawn self portrait.
You can stay or leave, but do come back,
hold on, but not too tight that it chains my wings.
When I ascend, please, miss me,
so my spirit flies back to you.
Can you not see the irony?
We accumulate many reasons to die,
but search for only one reason to live.
Ask yourself which oxymoron are you?
Dying to live or living to die?
*Alexithymia
A person's inability to recognise or describe ones own emotions
* Redamancy
a love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you; the act of loving in return
(a combo of free verse and rhyme, so I'm calling it verse)
The race for all humanity is on.
On your mark,
Ready
Set
GO
Make a dash for Saks
Then realize their prices
you can’t afford.
Many of the runners
are way too slow.
How can everyone keep up?
Pocketbooks too
are running low.
What to do? What to do?
Will you accumulate enough
to make it through?
How glittery the gold:
the bracelets, the chains,
the fancy rings and other things.
We rush through life.
We run and run and run
trying to obtain all we can
beneath God’s golden sun.
The bills are coming in:
electric, water, gas,
the mortgage and insurances.
Taxes overdue.
Make a sprint to the nearest mint.
Discover this: is the gold even there?
This race is so unfair!
Yes, the race is hard, but do you still
want the facade of great prestige?
Then find the hollow gold.
It still can look big and bold
stamped authentic gold
from ten to eighteen K.
Only you will know the emptiness
inside.
Don’t let others see what you’re about.
Just be sure not to wear it out.
Life is closing in on you.
The race is winding down.
What have you got to show for it?
Are your spouse and children happy?
Did you make some people smile?
Were you kind to those in the race
left far behind?
The golden gates of heaven
await.
That’s a gold you surely need
and where there is no greed.
Before the race even had its start,
were you smart?
Did you drop out?
And if you’re still halfway through,
S L O W
down.
Stop the mundane madness.
Possessions you can’t forever
hold.
And the only gold that matters is
that of a heart of gold.
(not to take too seriously; I think I am immune
to my "enemies" by now!)
How near to us are foes we can’t resist
when cells, like terrorists that we can’t see
accumulate! What parasites exist
within our very homes! We can’t be free
of them, and even the perfectionist
can’t rid his castle of the enemy.
They have no need of camouflage. They breed,
for on those cells sloughed off our skin they feed!
Though microscopic, they are numberless.
For those with allergies, the “mighty” mite
can wreak some damage. Nasty, they possess
the air we breathe, the beds we use at night!
And they will never simply evanesce. . .
To kill them off requires a constant fight,
but no one, sadly, perfectly defeats
them, even vacuuming and changing sheets!
Inside the fridge, on counters, in the sink
lurk others. Do not be too much at ease.
The very sponge you’re using, which you think
is helping, could be spreading a disease!
Who knows what swarms in water that we drink,
on spinach leaves or just a piece of cheese?
How fleet is time; how bleak to have to spend
it on a war we know will never end!
Memories accumulate with each passing year
Some dark with troubles, some marked with cheer
I would rather stay focused on the smallest of things
For these are the ones I can keep in control
When everyday problems have taken their toll
Outside the window is a little orange tree
The laughter of children is heard in the breeze
We can feel hearts surrender while looking at three
quirky round faces, that look back at me
There are three rotund oranges, lined up on the fence
Left from the children who were playing last week
They picked a few oranges right off our tree,
then painted small faces, … with smiles on their cheeks
They'll remain there, to remind us that the happiness never leaves
So strange it seems, some things are meant
such little things. of no consequence
are the very same things, that might soon fade away,
but remain close to our hearts, the rest of our days
______________________________________________
3/5/16
For United Colors: Orange Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
I seal a kiss of blessings away from traitors
away from judgmental people and haters.
I am weary of reading and listening
to people using their pen to cripple, bringing
pain and suffering to other living souls.
I ask what their goal is to cast hot coals.
The vengeful dishonesty to incriminate
just makes us accumulate and abominate
the actions of the judgmental people and haters.
That is no way to behave, like mud swamp gators
because it seems to be conveyed that way.
Stop and surrender your brawling and say, "Nay!"
Back off! No more! Stay away!
11/8/2017
Don’t get down because of haters hating,
use it as motivation to shove your success in their face.
nature’s love precepts
accumulate, circulate –-
wisdom’s pools of truth
*In honor of John Freeman’s “The Precept: Nature’s Haiku” contest
This coin depicting a head of man with laurel
is a rare treasure from the American History,
as an auctioneer I could sell it for a large
sum of money: its estimated price is over
two-thousand-dollars, it shows it was minted
in eighteen-ninety-four, come forward and bid!
I found it among pennies I saved for rainy days,
there must be at least four thousand of them;
my collection includes contemporary silver dollars,
many generations must pass to accumulate value...
any other collector would action them any day!
I jealously hold onto them to own a piece of History:
how they glitter in glass cases on my walls!
I may donate them to the American History
Museum in Manhattan and see them on display!
Many auctioneers would love to get hold of my silver coin,
their mind is set solely on greed, not thinking of its history
which can unravel fascinating details about of its minting process;
the unknown artisan was very skilled in itching date and image
on both sides to testify the greatness and wealth of this nation,
but Americans don't realize that they are very wealthy indeed!
Take special care of your heart, mind, and body temple
Love all and have all
Be the best and believe in the best
Accumulate learning, trades, skills
Be knowledgeable of all things
Don’t stop giving and sowing
Life is a harvest of things planted
Live today, plan for tomorrow
Be courageous, adventurous, industrious
Awesomeness, bigheartedness, distinctiveness
Live like how He would want you to live
Think of others less of you
Take care
God loves us
He will never forsake us
Abandon us, throw us to the wicked one
He is there
For us now
And tomorrow
And always
I get pretty picture postcards
from faraway places,
not many but over time
they accumulate
on walls, fridges
and marking pages in books.
Mostly from old girlfriends
writing to prove
they are still alive.
"Amazing scenery, wonderful people,
haven't had a decent cup of coffee since Montreal,
watch out for the water in ice cubes.
Wish you were here (Not!)
all my love xxxx"
Still on a dull grey morning,
a message from Mexico, Italy,
Vietnam or New Zealand
is at least intriguing.
Me, I never send postcards
as I never go anywhere
but I get pretty picture postcards
from faraway long ago bitches
every now and then.
Gazing over the sponsers searching for what they seek
I find "Dr Rams words are better than gold"
I note this contest is slow to accumulate its limits
of which is readily understood given, Gold verses Soul
This man who is put forth where one must comply
matches feelings against the rules of impossibility
Gold is but a tangible asset that when mined becomes liquid
Dr Ram's words are better than gold as is everyone's whom God created.
Contest: Dr Ram's Words are better than gold
Sponsor: Joe Maverick
Submitted by: Judy Konos
I'm the ultimate
bookworm
my mother, God Bless her,
taught me the joy
of reading
of writing
of using thought
for something
a little more meaningful
than cars, popularity
money or fame
in books
your mind can travel
there are no barriers
for you
each book adds
another flavor
to your being
another star
to your mind's sky
they are things
of beauty
because you share them
the reader and the author
each merged together
somehow their minds
make more than two
so I have spent
a king's ransom
in the years when
I could afford
to accumulate
these golden treasures
far more rich
than gold or silver
I made the master bedroom
of my current home
a library quite extensive
where my mind can roam
I have so many books
I could not fit them all
but part with one?
never....
for any reason under the sun
I have diaries from the civil war
faded slightly
but still a wonderous mirror
into a time and life
never to return
many other treasures
but books among my best
I could never be
a librarian
little work would
I get done
my eyes would be stuck
inside my charges
and no one could
withdraw a one.