Best Additionally Poems
Every one of my five brothers
and I strive to create harmony.
Our lives are lived in parallel
yet at times we work alone.
Other times we play well together -
unity and coexistence is our goal.
A chord can bring us together
into a rich and soulful harmony.
We often seek concord in parallel
so no one is left alone;
expressive music is our end goal,
a desire shared by six brothers.
Django Reinhardt, who often played alone,
had mastery over all us brothers,
as do Los Romeros playing together,
creating a family of classical harmony.
Andrés Segovia with his ambitious goal,
worked with composer Rodrigo in parallel.
Great rock guitarists with their goal
of playing fantastic music in parallel:
Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison playing together;
the Eagles soaring in amazing harmony;
Clapton; Jimmy Page; the Allman Brothers;
or Hendrix playing incendiary solos alone.
Bring your friends, sisters and brothers
to a concert - don't come alone!
You'll meet people who have parallel
interests to your own. Dance together
as music plays. Our common goal
should be brotherhood and world harmony!
Each string of a guitar, alone
can make a melody. But harmony
exists only by functioning in parallel,
cooperatively. Let this be our goal:
for human beings to work together,
recognizing that we are all brothers.
My brothers and I aren't alone.
In parallel lives, our main goal
is to work together, making harmony.
[Sestina]
// A sestina is a non-rhyming poem consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoy. The last word of each line in stanza 1 is repeated in all of the following stanzas. The envoy contains all six repeating words. To emphasize the theme of "Six Relatives", I have also made each line exactly 6 words. Additionally, I began stanzas 1-6 with the letters of the six guitar strings: E, A, D, G, B, E. One final note: the "ambitious goal" of Andrés Segovia and Joaquín Rodrigo was to make the guitar a respected instrument in the classical repertoire. They succeeded!//
Written 16 Nov 2020
When the nights turn cold and there's nobody at home,
I want to be that person on the phone.
When nothing seems right,
and the road ahead appears less than bright,
I want to be that person who holds you tight.
When no one seems to care,
and tears start running down your stare,
I want to be that person who's always there.
When pain damages your spirit secretly,
and sadness affects your heart equally,
I want to be that person to rescue your frequency.
When dreams go their separate ways,
and ambition goes up in a blaze,
I want to be that person to provide the desire within your gaze.
When barriers stop your smile shining,
as beautifully as dawn and all hope looks forgone,
I want to be that person who believes in you to carry on.
When happiness exudes your clutch,
and life's struggles are never a crutch,
I want to be that person who receives your touch.
When you manage to make it through,
and you look around to see who stayed true,
I want to be that person who hears you say,
"my Angel is always you".
When romance and commitment are mixed traditionally,
and comfort is thrown in additionally,
I want to be that person you love unconditionally.
When moments are in their prime,
and schedules become demanding along the line,
I want to be that person who receives your time.
When patience is taken to execute the perfect kiss,
and butterflies create an instance of bliss,
I want to be that person you will instantly miss.
When your tone is as joyful as spring,
and you believe you can do anything,
I want to be that person to change your life with a single ring.
No matter our individual flaws,
I wish to take a moment and pause.
Draw in a deep breath and steady my cause,
as I caress your palm and reveal to you "I wana be yours".
For more poetry goodness visit www.checkmyflow.co.uk
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
Marquee gave me a choice. "What would I rather be, a better writer, or to be able to use my computer?" They notified me.
Their telephone number is 1-800-562-1502 and they are open Monday through Saturday. They are closed on Sundays. if you are interested in contacting them for further information please feel free to call them?
They informed me downloading's programs on your computers. Would open the door for malware to enter in, and take over control of your computers. Additionally, you would have the increased risk of identify theft.
"Did I want somebody to be able to steal my identity. And have complete access to my personal and financial information?" They informed me.
I told them I did not want that to happen to me. They now run anti virus checks on my desk top computer automatically. Being able to commutate online, and through social media. Is vitally important to all online and print based writers and/or poets. Although I basically classify my self as a fictional writer. I have written factual on line information.
The above factual information is based purely on my personal online experiences. I do not want other people to make the same mistakes as I did. I was completely ignorant. But ignorance of the law is no excuse. That did not stop my computer from being directly impacted by malware. Even though I was told it was through no fault of my own.
If you or anyone you may know is downloading programs on their computers. Do them and yourself a favor. Stop it before it is too late. I have crashed two desk top computers and one lap top one. Computers are expensive to repair and or replace.
As a born again Christian, I forgive them for what they did to me. If I want to be forgiven, I must also be willing to forgive. And be willing to pray they change their tactics.
Love as always,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/October Country
June 12, 2020/ June 13,2020
Intangible darkness under the
soft
moonlight- another night
shadowing
My lonely my soul.
Among the whispers of the
wind
i shivered cold-
yearning for your multiple
affection- undivided- additionally
I need you
We're a fraction-
Me
over
you-
a part of me is still dying over
you.
Yet again my eyes further rain
and submerge you further
in my thoughts.
I'm saturated by your attributed
sadness that's oozing through
the cracks of my heart.
I wish your arms were her to
pull
me from the pit of my pain.
Every dream on my pillow
got the echoes of your name.
A child is born in the heart of Biafra
in the midst of a war-torn, hungry, and poor world.
A difficult existence and a heartless fate
even just getting through the gruel every day is a struggle.
Their frail, little frame
without anything to eat and nowhere to sleep.
Once brilliant eyes that are now dull and depressing.
They cry as they experience the anguish
Their innocence was taken away
their youth was snatched
forced to continue and to mature too quickly.
There is no time to fantasize or play.
In such a harsh environment, it's just endless toil
They are responsible for the failure of the system
Where venomous corruption and greed have taken hold
They live in a world that ignores their predicament
and abandons them to endure their suffering in the pitch-black night.
The suffering kid of Biafra
Their anguish was in vain, and their pleas went unnoticed.
A fact that cannot be denied.
Their suffering is genuine, and the future is uncertain
Therefore, let's remember the Biafran child.
Because of their genuine struggle and excruciating anguish.
May we cooperate to provide them with relief,
Additionally, give them a chance to live a life based on faith.
IN DUE RESPECT (MY DUE RECOGNITION)
I am not that to my poetry.
We are.
But the thing is, we are not.
You are with me in spirit when I write.
I know this well because we speak into my mental environment.
When I publish my compiled poems in a poetry book, I am not the best seller being marketed.
How is this when you know the poems as I am writing them.
I am asked by my publisher will I use their tools to promote my manuscripts.
I did once and no one pay attention.
Does it make sense when the world knows who I am?
I tell you it is just a waste of money and I am, therefore, being scammed.
Moving mountains is what I do well as Andra Day sings.
Precarious times and perils of the world manifest the truth in that I write about life and things I have witnessed to.
Don’t I suppose to get recognition for writing so good?
Additionally, is it right when the Soup ignores my poetry?
They do not put me on the list of “Best New Poems” popularity.
Yet, I have my audience and I am read just as much as everyone else.
Thus far, I must let the Soup know that this list is incorrect.
Mountains I do not shy from.
I am to climb to overcome.
No reasons to be dissuaded by a lack of recognition.
My poetry is to be written.
It heals the troubled soul soothing the thoughts that ponders.
Political activism for the universe of people humanitarianly bonded.
I am a Poet and Philosopher growing stronger.
_____________________________________________________________|
Written July 29, 2016!
Is it duende, if I say
the streets are empty,
the nameless streets,
empty, but watching,
hollow, but watching,
as if with soju eyes...
as if with eyes that see me
only as I seem, always as I seem,
but never as I am....
would you call it beautiful,
if pain is beautiful,
would you call it duende,
if there is art
even in solitude?
would you call it duende,
... or call it suffering?
*** The title of the poem 'dukkha'
is the Buddhist term commonly translated as "suffering".
Additionally, 'duende' , or tener duende ("having duende") loosely means having soul, a heightened state of emotion, expression and authenticity, often connected with flamenco and poetry (see Garcia Lorca). Lastly, 'soju' is a traditional South Korean alcoholic beverage (the location wherein this poem was concieved) ****
I wish I had time for poetry and plays
My mind allowed
As I watched the same aged, bespectacled monk
For about the fifteenth time this month
Patter his bare feet
Upon the pavement
Of the dust filled lane.
Leaving me again
To contemplate
Broken shards of yesterday
In a faraway land that reminds me of
Secret Pacts made
To myself
In the time when
Getting too busy was never an option.
These the promises
Made in Nepalese skies
below the Lost Horizon
Of the Dalai Lama
Where,
I could not see
The coming years that would
Tumble earthwards
Like over ripe plums.
Nor the red Lama
Perched on an Annapurnan cliff
Chanting
Melodic verses
Centuries old
Tying a
Red ribbon round my
Wrist and soul.
There they lay.
Meditations that never were,
Given by Siddhartha, Confucius and, even a carpenter, from
Somewhere
Around
The Middle East.
Additionally,
They have even appeared
In soiled books,
Ashrams on the Ganges,
Scribbled on bar room napkins and
Occasionally
Confessed to
Unsuspecting passersby.
Where are these ruminations now
As the pages stick
Like books rarely read
In villages unseen
By streams only heard?
When all I want
Is a little respite from the traffic that
Hums next to the
Lane that is just beside my
Patio where that same monk will
Rise up
Early, don a saffron
Robe and greet dawn both eyes
Smiling.
Jeff Troyer
2006 (Chiang Mai, Thailand)
upon waking from a splendid plunge
into the depths of deep dreamy restful sleep
anchors away set adrift this body electric,
which succombed instantaneously
(without counting sheep)
nor joining the make belive rank and file world
with the likes of little bo peep
an immediate notion arose
to latch onto and ignore
this most delightful, flight of fancy deed
(not dirty nor done dirt cheap),
but a natural function
one cannot overdose nor excede
the USDA quotidian requirement,
where cares and concerns
of an uncertain world freed
yet an asolute bare necessity for stayin' alive
plus richly textured unrivaled vista devoid of greed
additionally cost and gluten free, NON GMO,
zero caloric effortless need
(words of caution to take seriously to heart),
and note that if one doth not yield, but sure to read
the small print affixed like a label each mind
forcing to squeeze out every metaphorical
drop of open eyed juice
perhaps resorting to meth or speed
that silent slurred speech, physical lashing,
head dropping fatique
will invite Halloween aparitions, delusions,
grand hallucinations, et cetera
as if one smoked wacky weed
the forces of anatomical and physiological
heft will take charge ahoy
and blast at top notch nautical surge,
will wrest control against blistering,
festering against withering heights
delivering balms away at feeble attempts
to retain losing battle to remain alert oh boy
no matter how much effort summoned,
(even feigning wakefulness as a decoy)
the trappings of oblivion
i.e. sinking into profound dreamland,
whether an individual ascribes to be Jew or goy
which Maxwell House maxim
“the key to better relationships may be more sleep”
no mortal ought to take lightly,
but pay heed lest the grim reaper doth creep
stealthily and scythe lent lee steal
a haggard skiff of flesh and bone
whereat corporeal essence no more
will there be for the soul to keep.
There are those I love unconditionally
Regardless of their attitudes, ideas or beliefs.
I love them because everyone is in a state of perpetual motion;
Tension or release…
From the surly bonds of society
Wherein we find ourselves full tilt;
And who’s to blame for all the shame,
Turmoil, toil and guilt?
From past and present participle
To future tense somehow;
Those we love we place above
Ourselves, right here and now.
And there are those we wish to elevate
As high as sky is round;
If you and I could transmigrate
I’d find you up or down.
Don’t ask me why
We laugh and cry
Like children growing still;
There are those we love unconditionally
And additionally,
always will.
Richard Thomas man of God.
The one I have foreseen surrounded by clouds.
He plays his guitar to honor our Lord, so beautiful
So powerful. His love songs to Jesus are so very real.
Everlasting is his song that explains best his deep love and
Gratefulness to God.
Grateful for the saving grace of God.
The greatest of love does flow from his heart to Jesus' heart.
His songs and music reach up to Heaven's realm back down
To earth into the below, rebuking satan as Moses parted the
Red Sea.
Catching the wayward while there is still time, borrowed time.
Richard stands in the gap for the people that God has placed
In his care for such a time as this.
Including me you see,
Even though he has an earthly family,
He is truly my brother from the Great I AM.
Strength and resolve do flow through him.
Using his guitar as a staff which do make God's
Flocks move on much more quickly to their destiny.
This is something that glorifies Jesus.
Explore his story Standing In The Fire about his time
In secular music and what the pleasures of the world
Did to him as he partook of these things.
Explore his music which glorifies God on that wondrous
Place known as You Tube and no he is not John Boy,
As he is far too young to be him.
Type Richard Thomas Music in the search bar.
There are many things I can tell you but the
Biggest thing right now is a loving sister's request
Of those who understand,
I have not asked for much in all of this for myself
Though I am very blessed indeed.
I ask with all of my sister's heart for my brother if you
Would please go to Richard's go fund me page and help
To send him on The Tour Bus For Jesus mission as he
Has been so sweet to so many.
To see Richard smile as he loves Jesus makes me additionally
Happy in the remainder of my days on earth.
Thank you and God bless you for your understanding and generous
Love for humanity as they will be divinely blessed when they hear
Richard play with his true talent and sincerity amen!
DONALD TRUMP – RE: DUCKS --
this portion dashed off
(while dry ving an open white hearse slay
so many months back before
slated him slotted the most coveted
Casino biggest win - before the political imbroglio
much more upsetting than today
- - - - - - - - - -
Axe the old don
A trump peter n piper of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
With the ha air brushed pompous ****
so the Macy jackal hound doth run
After public outcry yelps
for his hide and proletarian discord won!
- - - - - - - - - -
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination with bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed expletives
toward lass sees – especially
Fox Television news anchorwoman Megyn Kelly
inducing said personality to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults from incriminating verbal pass
so…ex post facto viz mine NO VOTE from me
thus this digital screed to disallow him
to accept the oath of office, cuz he will hurrahs
from such a snooty arrogant simian with sass!
- - - - - - - - - -
I van a try to describe while sitting on me rump
How he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth
while back a slump
Blasting Democratic nomination as a sham –
From special interest bro and sis turn pump
He, the epitomy of crass bloviation, a malignant lump
Whose rants sans presidential outcome a sham rocking red bull
in a China shop with his millions beds this,
- - - - - - - - - -
That and another woman to bareback jump
Disseminating gene pool –
Obama null lee birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
The mass media as some foolhardy charade
And caricature of a frazzled grump
This arboreal clothed ape
Erecting Taj Mahal phallic symbol where players dump
And gamble away hard earn cash
- - - - - - - - - -
For his hello kitty, as if that cachet to grind and bump
Lambasting with that maniacal leering pout
while hair rum runs rampant with red bulls
In a China shop atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed heady measly shaped
ulterior motive aimed his sights to become Pastor of Muppets
Dis eased cranial hologram
Of a cretaceous, facetious and insidious mump.
----------------------------------------------------------
By: Baron von Ivan Mal N. Ya.
Nay, despite failing to make the grade,
this bluesy well red, duff mute
average white band hit,
hard knock school alumnus
jack of all trades master of none bumped along
pot hole cratered steep pitch
while riding the bus
bullies skewered kosher me all, cannibalized
carte blanche timid ego
brandishing exacto knife
threatening jugular, cuss
sing maniacally pulling out all stops
going headstrong for this doofuss
Embracing premonition making me mincemeat
vis a vis via, Atilla the Hun plus
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
after diet of worms
as hors d'oeuvre hug guess
if given a choice, would prefer Loch Ness
monster, or the whale that swallowed Jonah,
either t'would be a quite im press
heave feted feat, versus being poached,
roasted, skewered burnt alive
perhaps sautéed to feed additionally,
the Gothic (Jacks sin) five
the latter adorned with
Bandolier prototype, whence they would jive
to Vandals mess sigh ya,
these last yet another contra band
to play on command, or risk not being
he gee beegee bing a live
all thee above iterated blather spluttered
as punishment against revive
ving human sacrifice by pence hoove lee donning
a new jersey wordlessly trumpeting, and strive
ving assiduously as a one man lobbyist,
and aye willingly negotiate
to take more'n one wive
even though that would be big o' me decor,
thus a last minute reprieve given
without axing por favor
and black keys handed over
to Holy Roman Empire in hoar
rubble ruins (over the Weeknd), thus brutish nasty,
and short tempered surprisingly
(boot not prematurely) ejaculating bon jour
foo fighters actually (grand
aery an nah - did a three sixty)
feting me guest of hun or,
boosting self esteem, the first time
since being a kid in a candy store
which poetic digression
did make quite a dee tour,
and bringing detente amidst marauding
village people hoop reef furred war.
I, henceforth, known as the respirer, do
solemnly swear hereafter, to take you in,
in sufficient quantities to ensure
continuation of the flesh's animation.
I additionally, do accede my heretofore,
essential need of your estimable service,
and express my desire to continue our
mutually beneficial, ok, parasitic, relationship
Being, as you are, substantive to well-being,
I wish to publicly, and, without reservation,
acknowledge, my sincere admiration for your
valuable and well known qualities
By any and all conveyances available to stated
respirer, procurement of your services is
to be distributed to every cell of said being
equitably and on an as needed basis until
such time as service is no longer necessitated
I, the aforementioned respirer, do in earnest,
testify to my intent and necessity for
a continual contractual relationship, with you
In short, you breathe life into mine
© Goode Guy 2013-04-26