Best Affords Poems
Behold Death
Behold Death in your loving arms.
Embrace it as you would the loved
one who passed…entering another
realm, as they are still hovering near
and can hear, see and feel
your grieving emotions.
You may not be able to visualize
them, but may sense their presence.
Feel the comfort they are trying
to offer by crossing the boundaries of
linear time from one realm to the next
in the beauty that residing divinely on
the other side affords us.
We are able to sense their essence of
spirit that will remain with us always
until we too join them in their existence
that has no limitations and is bound only
by collective souls living in harmony.
Behold Death in your loving arms.
10-13-18
~Poem of the Day October 15, 2018~
Thank you Poetry Soup Team and Members.
I've constructed a picket fence around me to keep jackanapes out
Through pickets they can see me, but I never allow them to touch
private parts of me I keep concealed, and don't talk about so much
I keep whitewashing my fence, cleansing it from things left in doubt
When my boards become exposed to prying eyes that shouldn't see
I open another bucket of watered-down paint and reach for a brush
to cover the flaws, my faults within, and I am always in such a rush
to whiten and brighten the facade out front. The veneer veiling me.
There is a gate with well-worn hinges, but usually it's kept locked
to prevent invaders who would dare trespass on my every thought
Those who'd despoil my fence with graffiti and rip my boards apart
Hence, one reason why I keep a supply of whitewash well-stocked
I am the prismed reflection of my surroundings, including my fence
where no webs shall arachnids weave within my weathered boards.
I will apply a coat of whitewash to my palisade as the need affords
It is a beachhead between me and crawlers; my penury of defense
Twining around my picketed railings, grows a vine of climbing roses
The virtuous blooms are never cut to prolong each inculpable stem
They shroud malevolent fingers pointed at me that would condemn
I shrive every foible and failing that my whitewashed fence encloses
May 28, 2023
W T F Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Trinkets of touch saved for memories keeping
Traces of love we now lock in our hearts
Days never end as the mornings beginning
Tears find their path in our moments apart
~
Catching a glimpse of the barren horizon
Wondering what it will bring to our eyes
Simply the thought of the one true affection
Caught in the stars that do light up the skies
~
Here as I sit on this beach ever changing
Lost in the mind is the essence of proof
Moving my feet, causing ruts in the sand floor
Noticing nothing aside from the truth
~
Why does it seem that this life wallows empty
Every day is the same only more
Swiftly the clouds bring the rain’s chilly vision
Dreaming of only the one I adore
~
Drinking the drops in the puddles of reason
Splashing against all that I’ve ever known
Capturing dreams in a spoon that is leaking
Now as I write in these words all alone
~
Hard to believe that a flower is blooming
Fragrance as sweet as the heart beat we share
Chains bear the lock that does keep me from reaching
Look but don’t touch is the warning...beware
~
I long to run down the path of decision
Challenge my fear in this soft ocean breeze
Finding a cave at the edge of the mountain
Placing my soul in the shadows to breathe
~
Only my heart keeps me here by the wayside
Hoping beyond every truth that does form
Lasting the pain of this fearless affection
Keeping my place in the face of the storm
~
Proving to no one’s un-answering questions
Feeling ashamed as I’ve nothing to show
Still I will wait on the eve of my lifetime
Promising always that I’ll love you so
~
For I am a man who does desperately need you
There is no other that I’m thinking of
Here I will sit as the world it is ending
Counting the days till I know your sweet love
~
Why can’t we meet at the same destination
Drink of the day that affords us the view
Forget the world and its many distractions
Except for this love that I hold here for you
~
Have a great weekend everyone, see you on Monday.
Today, I count my many blessings
as today is a great new day and
I am filled with the kind of joy
a great nights sleep affords
a tired, worn thin, insomniac.
I finally slept for hours and awoke
feeling all is right and we will survive.
From my sunny balcony I leaned
over the parapet to observe my
flower garden growing peacefully
without a care of the chaos in
this world as fears are closing in.
We must not give in to those fears.
I promise to merge with my flowers
and let the day bring what it will.
My heart is full and is singing with
the Angels that are surrounding us.
Today, I count my many blessings.
Today is a great new faith filled day
and I am filled with His eternal joy
knowing this pandemic will soon be
a sad memory we will remember as
the world fighting it as ONE people.
4-9-20
Now is the summer of our discontent
Made glorious opportunity for change
And all the clouds that lower on our land
In the bosom of the media rearranged
While I who have no mind for fair concord
Determine to conspire and prove the fiend
And hate the idle pleasures life affords
Ensure conflict is harvested and gleaned
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
To instigate a man against a brother
Black history I will exploit to thrust
In deadly hate one race upon the other
Soft hearted folks I will manipulate
And play upon their heartstrings for my schemes
Their sympathy emotions shall dictate
Virtue signalling conformant to woke memes
To activate my hidden plan I’ll move
Self righteous useful pawns - give delegation
With peaceful protests (who could not approve?)
Though they shall lead to ruinous conflagration
The people will rise, call for a redeemer
When old regime has made a full contrition
To save the nation, be a chaos healer
I’ll, with reluctance, undertake the mission
Then my control shall be with iron fist
Surveillance of the people I’ll refine
And cohorts of young zealots I’ll enlist
The name: ‘Beloved Leader’ shall be mine
18 June 2020
Garage
stacked high
scribbled stenos of
an automatic act
of little understanding or thought-------------
{tuhituhi}
visceral finality
zero return
zero reward
and then there's
a learning disability hindering the reading-------------
{panui}
writing
is taking a dump,
except after wiping, I tend to take a peek
this creative act ill affords a 2nd glance
a good day and bet the writing stinks... boring
jail or hospital equals readers galore
"TELL ME MORE!"
could correlate with occupancy rates
what a sorry excuse of a poet I am
damn if that ain't sayin' much.-----------
{paru}
~editor's note: Poetry Soup would not let the beautiful Urdu script be seen, so I substituted Maori~ :(
How different this place
this sanctuary feels, here
inside one’s head. Where
insidious illusions fondle
a subvert mind, and obscenities
resonate within the confusion,
when fidgety creatures, assume
guardianship of my preternatural
situation, scurry around my space,
creating lattice of fabrication
across the quaking ceiling.
My imagination becoming
their fodder, my perception
their power, my tenacity
their strength, before spinneret
interweaves segregation of my
day and night.
Bollocks! To the physician of eastern
promise, he that controls this
nightmare, drip feeding diurnal
poison to this empathy
lost within an advocated paradox!
“Yet surely I have no need of
hatred, now I am confined within a
fragment of one’s dream.”
A genus of warmth; yet a confused
state of perplexity that knows
no boundaries, where bloodstain
walls survey me, incessant shadows
dance in gutless sunlight, and
radical rays anoint me with
“Hope and religion.”
I call out to Rock’n’roll!
Sammy Turner gives me
an impetuous rendering of
“Lavender Blue.”
Then I see an old man struggling
with his own situation. Touched
I call out.
“Are you ‘Jesus Christ?”
He scans my inquiring mind.
He senses I’m an imposter,
he raises one finger
affords me two words!
Both of one demystified syllable!
© Harry J Horsman 2010
Play me a teardrop, that sits atop my heart strings.
One to make the Angels weep, a vigil to my soul.
Strum me sad chords, that affords my mournful cry,
to spill upon your memory, still within my mind.
Choose the notes carefully, as floats petals on the wind.
To land softer, than the whisper of your breath.
Keep slow, the tempo and low the expectations,
I don't know how to say goodbye, so play me a teardrop.
For the contest: The Rhyme Inside
Sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
Placement: 4th
If only one shall know my name
With pride to care that I have been
A title that might share such fame
And from my cause true passion seen
A name that defines one life
Worthy of fame's price to bear
Lived for peace and free of strife
That's just, in honor, not from fear
I'd be content if called by God
A name that's less than pride affords
That leads to paths so seldom trod
For fortune undescribed in words
From true hearts let names be heard
May lives with love define the words
What's In A Name Contest
Sponsored By Silent One
01/16/2017
(Dedication: For Monterey Sirak who is the first poet
on PoetrySoup who made me feel welcome here. With
my fond gratitude.)
------------------------------------
Movement feels mellow with spontaneous joy;
Orbit of sure spheres in changing charades;
Night stars to follow the impulse that toys;
Trust lovely times here to style your parade.
Enter a new dawn with easy intent;
Remember to smile with grand demeanour;
Embrace this fine morn with loving content;
Yield to the lifestyle that affords true splendour.
Wise is the bold man who lives soul beauty;
Reap the sweet passion that yields to the light;
Ink and understand that truth speaks calmly;
Touch is firm action that follows foresight.
Endow each new write with discovery;
Sync your voice and cite subtly and clearly.
Leon Enriquez
25 Apr 2014
Singapore
(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet.)
There on the threshold of the dawn
when lights of night of had been outdone.
His chariot was slowly drawn
before the Mistress of the Sun.
Her sable breath was caught by day
locked in his snare, their paths aligned
Diluting Earth in passion’s haze
Her soul absorbed, her love entwined.
From out within that Eastern sky
a flirting warrior touched her face
and lured a blush from maiden shy,
a russet moon with fawning grace.
She paused a moment, heart undone
to drink the charm of Master Sun.
The twilight never warmed as much
as naked fire in hungry eyes
while basking in his ardent touch;
each new facet a sweet surprise;
the way his light made her fall blind
the way his warmth stayed on her mind.
But Ah! The game, the Missing Game
brief moments claimed while on the run
her duty calls, his life’s campaign
enlists the Mistress of the Sun.
His light reflected dusk to dawn
her own desire she could not find.
In each eclipse, his shield was drawn
so quick to hide, leave her behind.
His meager offerings of light
so often waxed and waned again,
and yet her thinning heart held tight
to fairy tales of princely men.
A damning war of heart begun
to love or hate her Master Sun.
.
She gave so much, he never took
and took so much she never gave,
his victor’s eyes too oft forsook
the feelings that she longed to save.
A failure’s guilt, a bitter rind,
a gray, bald husk o’er heartsick mind
A farewell kiss from parting lips
his tantric palms on prizes won.
From wells of eventide he sips
then leaves the Mistress of the Sun.
A mistress of the light no more
‘twas not her place in day to shine
in spite she takes what he affords
to taunt him with what he’d declined.
To The Dreamer Within...
----------------------------
Line after line flow as touch and feel surge;
Ink stains galore ply in emotive fire;
Voice whispers a show that caresses urge;
Evermore strains vie in sensuous conspire.
Linger in echoes that play thoughts floral;
Open your sure heart beyond mind games here;
Vouch music galore in word sense aural;
Embrace lovely start that charm now endears.
Lively this sweet choice in happy trickle;
Indulge rhyme and verse in urgent passion;
Set muse to clear voice in fragrant mingle;
Tinge inner core terse with words that fashion.
Enjoy each moment that affords jingle;
No need to lament that fearful juggle.
Leon Enriquez
27 Apr 2014
Singapore
(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet.)
“Thou shalt guide me with Thy counsel,
and afterwards receive me to glory.” Psa 55:22
Lord I seek your guidance
For your counsel is sure
Show me Your will
May my transgressions be fewer
Your guidance is necessary
And Your counsel essential
For me to see your glory
To reach my full potential
Of myself I have no power
So I daily beseech
The guidance and counsel
You willingly teach
I am not always as surrendered
As you want me to be
To prepare me for glory
With a powerful testimony
Give me the courage
To show others the way
Share your wise counsel
To those gone astray
Let them know that works
Will never suffice
That’s why You made
The ultimate sacrifice
Your promise of glory
I want dearly to share
With my brothers and sisters
I want to be there
Please God make them willing
To hear Your words
See the guidance and counsel
That your glory affords
We are but helpless
In our human plight
Give us your wise counsel
Eyes wide open for your great insight.
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2007-2012
soft, yet ...
like a breath of Noshaq
you are gone in a whisper
bound for some dreamy realm (imagining)
where exquisiteness affords you
a throne in Valhalla …
you dance among the frosted peaks
like Misha with the Mouse King
prancing on a puff of wint'ry wind
yearning for the bloom
of early Spring
the nuzzle of a warm nose
or the easy gift
of a frozen lake of swans
hush, you ...
about your business
secret stories you tell to the mountain
of visceral attentions, keen
wondrous things that we lesser creatures
will never be privy to -
things that you find your common bidding
but that fools like me -
wholly taken with sublime form
and ghostly airs -
find spellbinding ... breathless
enchanting ...
you are a feral phantom
demon AND deity of a covert kingdom
I am cursed to only conjecture on
or put to inadequate word ...
a magical dominion of
deliberate and brutal elegance
that has graced me with but a glimpse
a rare, tender, precious instant
blessed by the substance of a moment
far too beautiful to ever
capture.
from "The Waking" by Theodore Roethke:
"I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go."
Queasy anxiety, a fearful edginess of dread,
an old and omnipresent sense of doom
taint the times that random opportunity affords
to slip convention's chains, to openly proclaim
a saner point of view, a logical rejection
of muddy, inane thinking, of tradition-bound
adherence to stupidity's insistent songs
that perpetuate a myriad of wrongs.
Let there be no turning back; face the fears, be the change --
for diversity, humanity, acceptance, brotherhood,
and love. Explain, support, convince. Break the silence:
come out, come out, whoever and wherever you may be!