Best Ail Poems
There's a lady I know as pretty as primrose,
With innocence of soul,
how I know ----
None whom has walked this wide world 'ere
more lovely than her dimmest delicacy;
The sweet of lavender envious in her passing....
the King-Rose longs her deeper crimson lush,
and divorce he the earth, to marry her but a day;
And death dare not take her
lest he die in her love,
For holy her heart,
where the angels take leave
to but watch mere glimpses of her beauteous art;
with eternal pledges the very ground 'neath her feet
hallowed with heals,
Her wind as cherubin lungs to fill the sails of saints,
a messiah for Epicurus ----
for no ail shall last long in her soothing shadow;
Nay,
the sun shall not shine
with same vibrance in her leaving,
But the stars align with her remembrance,
and God in all His glory more joyful for her making;
For He made her from His finest silks
and honeys from heaven.....
a mentor for Venus,
(ma belle femme)
Great Spirit whispers on breathing breeze; 'It is time',
puce plume in saffron noon signals hunt's aborning,
ThunderBeasts' harrowing hooves erupt Great Plains grime,
soon will ail, widow's wail like a wild dove's mourning...
Ancient wisdom, ebony eyes, high cheekbones wide,
buffalo, he knows, mystical foes who fight back,
astride, he rides his Spanish horse with native pride,
his soul cleared, spiritual prayers 'fore the attack.
Timeworn trails, bison beaten by shaggy stampedes,
hunting grounds feared and revered, tribesmen o'er the brae,
power potent, cloven cloud, hastened heart proceeds,
ambush laid, panicked herd, embrace the bloody fray.
Casualty's chance, horseback dance, drum lethal hoof beats,
thunderous trample of ample prairie crocus,
Sioux and beasts' sacred throes, their crimson flows 'neath feet,
death has a way of bringing life into focus.
Susan Ashley
October, 24,2017
~ Third Place ~
Contest: Tribute To Native Culture
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Mother,
I meant to finish college and
go get my Master’s degree,
to become and engineer
and built great things in our cities.
I meant to show you my new house
with a suite above the garage,
so you could leave that damn ghetto
and have a safe placed to lodge.
I meant to tell you of my Marie,
how she’s all wrapped around my heart,
let her tell you how excited
she is for the family we’ll start.
I meant to show you your grandkids,
two boys and a little girl,
so you could spoil them rotten,
show them off to all the world.
I meant to thank you in a speech
when I got that big award,
then be ushered off the big stage
before the audience got bored.
I meant to help you with the bills
when your health began to fail,
to rant and rave at the doctors
if you continued to ail.
I meant to make the Holidays
a joyous time for family,
to invite them all down here
and throw a truly righteous feast.
I meant to do so many things,
to love, strive, achieve and give,
but mostly mom, to be honest,
I think I most wanted to live.
But in an inner-city clinic
they stuck a vacuum in my head,
barely made it half-way out,
you meant for me to be dead.
a mirage of love
in a desert of loneliness
a glimpse of hope
far in the distance
a string upon a labryth floor
the key to open
a long locked door
the solutions to problems
that cause much dismay
the answer to prayers
prayed that very day
the cure for a sickness
that ail a child
despite patience
there was quickness of time
the clouds that bring rain
to the dry
the sun that brings the light
after the darkest of nights
such are those who spill
love into our lives
those temporary aquaintences
with which we share delight
the company of a
pleasant stranger
or the reunion
of old, old friends
accompanied by the
welcome thoughts of
what could have been
the highlights of a journey
too soon, come to an end
fare well Charmaine
fare well my new found friend
hope has left and ending
where love was suppose
to begin
they were only mirages of love
in a desert that has no end
Cold shower today - (early afternoon)
September eighth two thousand
and nineteen more challenging than June
dog days of summer test tolerance
to feel alive and bark at the moon
hypothetically imagining myself
alone in the (suburban) wilderness
fabricating, envisioning crossing pontoon
bridge while humming nonsense tune.
Jolt to body electric induces zing
unlike missus who cannot wing
subjecting her sensitive skin
versus modest bragging
rights of this faux king
please pas din me boasting,
but perhaps explanation
I shower without hot water
linkedin to aging.
Which (no matter cumulative
chronological orbitz around sun
just a number), the fleeting
passage of years doth stun
more so forces me to assess
mein kampf, retrospective
devoid of nothing merit but pun
hushing disappointment plus
self deprivation of fun.
Alas within narrowly
circumscribed realm stale
stagnation doth prevail,
I easily overwhelm
courtesy panic attacks of this male
bred avoidance behavior
(cue Pavlov's dog) hearty and hale
trained to withdraw
from challenging tasks
markedly pronounced when fail
my middle name,
where besieged psyche doth ail.
Fatherhood, albeit necessitated taking ace
sip of courage, sometimes
adept to chase
fear of unfamiliar, though
never totally erase
sing passive behavior
I attest infrequently to face
anxiety inducing situations
poise zenned clowns
feign amazing grace
me convulsing with intimidation
agitating, flinching, recoiling...
retreating into isolated place
while profuse sweat drips
from every porous space
heart beat does madly race
despite absence of any threat
exhaustion spent without
factual, logical, rational... trace.
Time and again work fraught
self into lather for naught
recurring soap opera taught
me impossible mission
to rinse figurative suds
unlike showering/washing hair,
whereby cleansing wrought.
hope is going on, even if not knowing where
hope is running on, even if not knowing why
hope is loving on, even if not knowing whom
hope is living on, even if not knowing what for.
hope is when you smile not knowing why,
hope is when you think bad times can go by,
hope is when you want to see the light
hope is morning after night.
hope is stumbling, but stand up again
hope is falling, but then getting up
hope is stopping, but going on
hope is dawning, but then rising high.
hope is when the night is cold
hope is when you're feeling old
hope is when you grit your teeth
hope is maybe beneath.
hope is the hand that helps you getting up
hope is the one asking you „What's going on?“
hope is the one who gives you a hug
hope is when you realize that you are not alone.
hope is going on, even if the way is long
hope is running on, knowing, you are strong
hope is loving on, even if this can ail
hope is living on, even if you fail.
hope whatever you do.
hope is what I wish
you.
Abstract images to the debris of micro fibers.
Down to the Haitian survivors praying for Red Cross donations rather than meaningless
conversations and commotions,
Across tech tonic structures islands break off, continents sides of earthquakes, sizzling
millions of years with a side of ketchup as condiment
Natural bloodshed delicate as a cracked vanilla wafer moving and subduing natural
disasters with a waiver
1st born protected on the doorstep with lamb’s blood, a sanctified remnant of raiment
Oceans swallowing nations in containment.
Countries bruise, ail, and swell.
Broken, body bones, normal day vertical swing parallel.
High land separating bodies of water and 3 sides of the peninsula .
Drowns, in the brown decay of metamorphic rock and hardened clay.
Day after the tomorrow, tirades un-tranquil in sorrow.
Statures of broken individuals in full robust
Feed the struggling souls
On the television reveals reflections of us
You live a thousand miles away
So far across the sea
Still I search the reason why
Fate brought you here to me
I never dreamed I’d feel this way
From just one night with you
And always I’ll be wondering
If you still feel it too
If I could turn the hands of time
Or change the rivers flow
You wouldn’t drift away from me
I wouldn’t let you go
I live a lie of happiness
So no one sees my pain
Because I fear forever more
I won’t see you again
Time will pass and tears will fall
But still I won’t forget
For you’re the one night in my life
I never will regret
Memories and dreams
Are all that’s left to hold on to
But while I hold the dream
Someone else is holding you
You were my “Once in a Lifetime”
The moment of truth in my lies
Never will I find again
What I found when I looked in your eyes
My dreams are what keep me going
And I can’t wait to turn out the light
In sleep is when I am with you
And I don’t want to miss you tonight
I'm now just a memory in your past
You'll think of once in a while
But somehow, I know each time you do
My memory will make you smile
I'll always be your Juliet
And you my Romeo
And always ail be waiting
Because you had me from hello...
Darling Afghan grandmother, your weary hands narrates a somber tale
Your bowed head discloses your day by day yearning ail
You have masked your happiness deep under your time-honored veil
Oblivious-- that your offspring’s will follow your footprints-- and abide by this wretched
trail.
Anosha Zereh
Diaspora that cant go home
Mum and Dad came on boats not grand
They left the sun behind
To the old country to lend a hand
replacing uncertainty and find
Prosperity, erase the poverty of native land
And we’ll send money back home.
They were met with sticks and stones
Were broken, not just their bones
Wogs and minstrels they were called
In Harsh winters and damp ghettos hauled,
unfamiliar foods and hapless children
Tears flowed inside and years out,
From broken ribs phlegm does spout
Husband’s and fathers ruled with fists
Paraffin fires took lives of kids
Benefits to small to feed and clothe
Necessitate a hustle to cope
And depression became the reward
Misery slapped hard onto every face
No pubs to ail our weary souls
This old country is a hard hard place
Welfare killed all dreams and hopes
Drugs and anecdotes became our lot
Newer immigrants got the jackpot
Penniless and broke, Too ashamed to go home
No riches to share, not welcomed, disowned.
Windy today so hold on to your hair.
Easter is on it's way with snow in the air.
Air filled with pollen so hide for a few hours.
Thunderstorms will bring May flowers.
Hail for tonight so bundle up tight.
Everyday the weather will change to our delight.
Rays of hot sun are very bright.
Date Written: 3/9/2022
Note: Acrostic Rhyme
Not sure but I have been told, I am the first writer to start this type of poem.
I have been writing them for years.
Life is full of averse
Of course nobody wants to join life adverse
How I wish my life is an isle
At least there will be no one to arrange outrage in mind’s aisle
We walk in troupe
Yet within that troupe, others create a troop
A troop against me but I always elude
I can be specific but I chose to allude
Don’t attribute it to fear or panic
Just for the sake of being poetic
My heart is bedeviled by unknown attacks
Is it my paranoia? No, my mind can’t be one of my setbacks
I arranged my dreams in my mind’s pocket
Where from this pickpocket?
If brains had a code
Hackers would never go to vacation mode
Life is meaningless meaningful
Life is interesting sorrowful
Someone should give me ale
At least, to lessen my ail
Give me in excess, I want to be intoxicated
I can’t watch life whiles my eyes are naked
Today we set sail for the United States of America
I am on the maiden voyage on the most luxurious ship ever built
The first class cabin is absolutely wonderful,
All the passengers are so excited
New York is going to be absolutely fabulous
It’s the journey of a lifetime
Calm seas are forecast for the entire trip.
Message in an acrostic Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
01~15~17
THE FALL OF BAGHDAD
What rite of passage, moves one to the light,
and through the healing of all earthly ail,
bestows this breath of life, to make it right,
Oh Babylon, tis time for life to fail.
Harm thee no thing, no spirit in the sky,
nor any beast nor fowl who's meant to flyl
In algebric expression, your unknown,
will show the spirit world we fail to see,
Your recognizing from your flowers grown
In Poppy fields, your highs not meant to be.
We've paid the price, for all to bear your sin
And left you with no peace you have to win.
Each algebric expression drives us mad,
now your unknown is where we have to hide,
it matters not your ending will be sad,
Scheherazade may dance, but she has lied.
The streets of Baghdad--Babylon's decay
Are made to waste, they will not have their day.
No Shamanistic eye can bear your weight,
nor transforms what you've been to other things,
and when you see the truth, it's all in hate
that brings the end, of which all life now sings.
Witch Doctors all have read bones all the same,
It is our end, and Babylon's to blame.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the Doylestown Poet
GAZA 2014
Which veil b
locks o
ur view of the app
arent , what
purblindness
vis-à-vis this
land s
lice, that we should f
ail
to make
sense of the rebus
it is or to
decip
her the his
torical
hieroglyph it is.
See the man
iacal maw
that makes it more
than a guts-for-garters
clash.But
yet i
t fails the
world’s celeb
rated triage.
Cut through
the curt
ains, take a loo
k at the bipeds
on the other
side and the end-
of-the-world im
ages they s
end forth
Pitted as
they are again
st exist
ential odds,
and attitudes, gun
gho and ra
bid
With human
ity poro
us, pond
ero
us, vapid busy
in ba
lancing acts.
22 Aug 2014.