Best All Around(A) Poems
Musky fragrance inundates
my nostrils as I enter
the garden center:
a rhapsodic feeling
in idyllic surroundings.
The air is humid
like an Amazon garden,
heat barely tolerable
making my glasses misty.
Soft music, dulcet and sweet,
swamp the amazing conservatory. The caterpillar had shed off its chrysalis,
and a perfect swallowtail butterfly appears.
It fluttered here and there
tasting the marvelous flowers around.
My cup of felicity abounds.
All around a miscellany of colors
enticing the radiant buyer with anything
that catches his fancy,
and I, mad about plants,
run in frenzy
from pot to pot,
stand to stand,
plot to plot,
inflame my smell nerves
with sweet sapphire orchids,
enchant my eyes with
white bearded irises,
become delirious with
a blood red amaryllis,
inhale the fragrance
of a white gardenia,
or lose my mind
on a black eyed Susan.
Which exotic plant must I choose?
It would be my talisman for my home
What shall I buy?
A red pyramid astilbe,
multi-coloured plethora of petunias or
scented forget-me-nots?
Or better still a dwarf
Deep red rose?
I feel my empty pockets,
I let out an ephemeral sigh,
and go back home,
empty handed alas.
S - P - R - I - N - G
Ah! Harsh cold winter must be tired,
his grip weakening, he breathes his last.
The frowning skies finally crumble fast
revealing downy blue clouds that waltz
The sun blows kisses of shine--- like a rainfall
touching, caressing but melting adagio
the white icy coats among branches...
The blossoms sultry strip to loosen their curves
then upon naked arms of trees curls
the color green trembling with symptoms of spring.
Birds twiddle free to sound like thrums.
Evergreen trees duet as they whistle
to calm tunes of nippy breeze.
All around a choir blushing fountain hues
of brown, red, pink and yellow.
Animals long-hiding from hugs of frost
now stands. They burst with grins and jolts--
like squirrels bouncing up and down.
Butterflies outstretch wings flutter by!
Snow that clogs and plugs finally weeps--
running dry with the heat rising slow on air.
It stirs sweet liquid pearls
to tip-toe on leaves and petal's swells.
Buzzing bees chase fresh floating nectar...
Lured, they dance on merry-go-round
in the warm bosom of smiling sunshine.
Coats and boots all pack and rolled away,
chuckles and giggles tickle the daytime flair
as little children prance to do some plays.
_____________________________________________
POEM OF THE DAY -- JANUARY 07, 2015
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Seasons
Placed 1st
©O.E. Guillermo
06:49 pm, January 01, 2015
Inviting and magnetic the towering awesome sight
A perspective of domineering rock and icy peaks
It challenges, dares and beckons with unfolding beauty
Stretching upwards into shades of blue and puffy clouds.
Along the winding sloping trail I make my way, the easy
Lower tract encased in green, till rough terrain appears
Then stimulation is released when steep ascent arrives.
I climb and breathe the pure fresh air, intense intoxication
It is so peaceful all around, a place for meditation.
The time goes by. I look for holds and make full use of spikes
Intent on concentration. The wind comes by and contributes
To the hazards of melting ice and hidden crevasses
The weary limbs in need of rest; a keen lookout for falling rocks
An avalanche of crumbling doubts that slows the pace...
Subdued exhilaration when the going gets too hard.
At last the top is right above. An added burst of strength
Dispels the peril of defeat. One final forward thrust
Victory is mine. The summit reached I gaze in awe
Surveying with pride my sprawling kingdom down below.
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Contest: Pinnacle
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
A mournful moon ascended,
Haggard,
Bland,
Weak.
Silence unfurled upon the grassy plain.
Gloomy shadows:
I felt so depressed
And lonely.
All around a sense of nostalgia,
Of reluctance
That made me wince in pain.
I sat beneath an old, gnarled oak tree.
The air was mute
But not peaceful!
Still, sparse stars swung in perfect symphony.
Dreams descended on restless somnambulists.
The waning moon continued
Its steady downward course.
The dark green plain stretched afar.
Where were their ghostly shadows?
Spectral and weird darkness seem to dissolve.
The moon was now at its resting place.
Soon, the sun would clear my befogged mind.
From all over they coming
See them parking every where
All kinds of food they bringing
Rum, sweet drinks and cold beer
See them on the beach walking
Under the Trinidad sun
And when you hear them talking
Its trini people having fun
See them in the sea bathing
Salt water in their hair
Some by the coconut tree drinking
All around a friendly atmosphere
And though they don’t know each other
They all has a positive attitude
Trinidadians are free sprit people
They are always in a happy mood
In beaches all around the country
This is the scene everywhere
Trinidad people like their beach lime
They coming from far and near
Shirley in the front seat eating
Chicken pelau and potato salad
Rianna making mango chow
That girl like her pepper to bad
Riad get drunk in a party last night
Now he drinking coconut water
Roger tells him “boy drinks some carib
If you want to recover
And with the trade winds blowing
Dry coconut falling on the ground
And you hear all kind of music playing
Soca, chutney, and Indian song
A woman Curry Duck cooking on a fire
Gosh it smelling good from over here
She takes out some in a plate and calls me
Trinidad people like to share
Chacachacare, Chaguaramas, Chagville
Blanchisseuse, Las Cuevas, Maracas Bay
Quinam, Cedros, Manzanilla,mayaro
Just a few beaches, people go to everyday
Trinidad and Tobago is a paradise
With the most friendly people in the world
The islands of the caribs and the arawaks
Of which lots of stories have been told
Some welcome all you visitors
And enjoy the mysteries of the islands
It’s the country I was born in
And I’m proud to be a Trinidadian
When trees bud their first green
All of nature rejoices when
Birds in early morn' sing,
New life all around, a butterfly omen-
It is time for love once again
Primitive energies overtake all beings
Expectant mothers' build their dens
I stop to watch two birds lovingly preen
Time to build on life, nature knows when
An ancient art performed through history
again and again
3/29/2014
Draconem
Away from human eyes
I fly across the sky
High above the floating clouds
Some think I'm a myth, but I'm as real as you
As I roar steam rises from my nostrils
My tail flicks back and forth as my leathery wings beat the air
My fire opal midnight blue scales flash a play of colors
As I sweep around in great circles and spirals
Down gliding on my stiff transparent glittering wings
My eyes are like glowing ember and my claws are as sharp as onyx daggers
Brown, orange leaves fall like confetti all around a young girl named Jess
As she sits under a canopy of trees
She runs to me and up my wing and wraps her arms around my neck and whispers,
” Take me away a million miles to a land where there is no hate or war”.
As she clung tightly, I unfolded my wide translucent wings and beat the air
Vanishing from sight soar towards the heavens swallowed up by the clouds
10/19/2015
Sponsored By: Carol Eastman
The sun sets in a golden hue, (A)
A sky of pink and orange, too. (B)
The trees sway in the gentle breeze, (C)
And rustle softly through the leaves. (B)
The birds sing sweetly in the air, (A)
Their melodies so light and fair. (B)
The flowers bloom in bright array, (C)
A burst of color on display. (B)
The beauty of nature all around, (A)
A wondrous sight that can astound. (B)
So take a moment, breathe it in, (C)
And let your heart and soul begin. (B)
Kokoda Efogi 1942....
The Japanese turned tail and headed north on twenty eighth September forty two. ...
They'd struggled round on mountains fought stopped near Moresby by the few. ...
Eighteen hundred went to stop ten thousand in the jungle mountains high. ...
Fought and skirmished over land in a rainforest never dry. ..
Our fresh Brigade now drove them off and followed as they ran, ...
in places high we'd count the cost where our mates died every man. ...
Near Efogi in a clearing up among the mountains high, ..
stopped to wonder at the scene, dead men round a circle lie. ...
All around a circle green, bloated rotten stinking high, ...
Japanese were piled up everywhere, by the dozen just to die. ...
So many died why came the thought? What killed them though they tried? ...
There in a pit two brave men fought, two Bren gunners fought and died. ...
Sat back to back to watch the clearing, even bullet riddled, soldiered on. ...
Slowly died with each bullet searing, fought till their last bullet fired and gone. ...
Two marksmen stayed upon the trail, let the wounded, get away, ...
Japanese in thousands were a coming, o'er the mountains narrow way. ...
2 Bren machine gun bullet spenders, deadly accurate this I say, ...
all around the bullets humming, squealing Japanese were turned to clay. ...
Kokoda trail held till they died, slowed the Japanese a little way, ...
though surrounded no surrender, at the time had death to pay. ...
21st Brigade men fought and died, two lives given on the day, ...
like Horatious at the bridge, didn't falter there to stay...
September 1942 two men were discovered near Efogi in New Guinea... My father Don Johnson of the 2/25th Btn. saw these two brave men had died fighting the thousands of Japanese... Don Johnson...
The Bren machine gun .303 caliber was so accurate that 2 to three bullets did take the top
of the head off your opposition soldier, if he popped his head up.
When these brave men died we were being pressured by overwhelming odds,
Up to 13,000 available Japanese troops were encircling each of the 3 battalions total 2,500 soldiers sent to stop them.
Constantly surrounding them in the mountains, forcing retreats ...
English Sonnet
'tis not a calm bright day that tests our grit
nor guarded safe repose within our lair.
No test is it to keep a candle lit
when winds are calm and placid skies are fair.
Within the tossing tumult of a storm,
no way to steer and know where we are bound -
where all around a snarling evil swarms;
it's there our own true inner peace is found.
So many of our demons we invent;
they circle waiting for our faith to fail.
We have within the spirit to prevent,
so even in our death we will prevail.
There, in the midst of all, we are set free
to want, to love, to strive, or just to be.
This story is from long ago,
It’s about two people under the mistletoe
It was a cold winter night with snow on the ground
The lights from the Christmas tree were draped all around
With popcorn and berries dressing the tree,
with toy’s all around a beautiful Christmas tree
The Children in their beds happy with glee
Snug under their blankets watching TV
When all of a sudden we heard a great sound
And as we ran all around only to see
It was Mickey the Mouse, on the children's colored TV
As we walked out the door we looked above
And there we saw a mistletoe
With a note placed upon, that read,
We did this for you, this present we give to you
We heard a small voice whispering so low
I wonder if they will kiss,
Under The Mistletoe.
"The Better Side"
It's possible to sacrifice so much of yourself people think your Band-Aids are clothing labels. Never stop to ask how they may be beneficial, grabbing, pulling so you never heal. Always underwater keeping them afloat.
Worse yet, there's that one who sits around and leeches your juicy fruit, sucks your labor way past overtime.
Will have you sitting in church batting away demons, asking where is the savior? Somebody spray some Raid all around, a halo ain't no crown. A few boys in woods could easily be lords of a hood, but they're too busy messing with stanky kush. Batting away flies, plotting their demise while basking on Easy Street.
Life is hard. Like trying to stop roller skates with no brakes. Sometimes it's better to crash and burn and begin again then to follow the same ol folly.
Goodie MOB said, "You need to get up, get out and get something but like Pharcyde, Life Keeps on Passing Me by. Your roots are fickle, your honesty trickles. I bet you couldn't tell the difference between a river and an intermittent stream. Look at your map. Read the legend. Make true north your only confession. Stop falsifying what you do because you have no stick-to-itiveness.
You cannot be what you are by sabotaging your name. You might as well be Toby, & act like you don't know me. Mirror, mirror on the wall. Ask a question and it replies Who the hell are you? Worrying about a credit score while making payments on a cell phone because you don't want flip phone credentials. Be in the beginning and forget about Samsung and them.
I'm miffed. Somehow in all thy getting I managed to grab two stones, a splinter, and pieces of broken glass. I wish they could comprehend the O so simple.
Watch me work, then you do the same. Like Leroy from the T.V. show Fame. You never thought a black man could pirouette until you saw Michael Jordan do it. Act like you been here before. You don't have to walk in my footsteps, but at least go in my direction. Be the better side of my reflection.
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
What the hell does it mean!
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
What the hell does it mean!
Two loves together make one lover life,
and one and one kiss, take two kisses,
it makes one love and one love into one love,
It is confusing,
and it tears your heart with envy,
it makes you laugh,
and it makes you cry,
it makes two feelings into one,
the good, and the bad come in one.
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
a kiss and a playful hug,
love kisses love and love blushes and kisses back,
the bite of the lip,
love melts in love's heart.
love and love- together,
and kiss and kiss and kiss,
love love,
love love,
love love,
Cupid's arrow is love,
and the bosom of her heart is love,
and arrow strikes, taking a piece of your heart,
and love takes place,
hypnotism,
rubbish love, love, love,
a kiss,
a pinch,
a hug,
a slap,
and thump,
a beat,
a sound,
a caring,
a feeling,
a power,
a kiss to a kiss- more and more to do with a kiss,
love love,
love love.
they kiss and they love,
ah there is that word again- love!
What is love,
what the hell does it mean?
love love,
love love,
all around, all around a kiss, a kiss, a kiss,
all around, all around a loving kiss to a loving heart,
and a hug and a kiss, a kiss, a kiss all around-all around.
What does it mean,
what the hell does it mean?!
love love,
love love,
love love,
love love,
all around, all around...
.3.4.2014.
Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada
All the nickel children
are playing on the rocks.
Girls exchanging numbers
and boys exchanging knocks.
Some are picking blueberries.
Some play in the moss.
Some are throwing grass bombs
as far as they can toss.
All the nickel children
are playing on the rocks.
All around a nickel
we made so that it shocks.
Blow a whistle, or write a song, while the white bearded-men of small fishing towns drown the nights away. Try to forget, if only for so long, that the tempted wish bowl rolls; floats like a wing and cries great lies of childish negligence, coming to wish all the best, to each worried-face at the contest.
Broken seats flood empty spaces of the unsaid, whispers sneak about as my heart beats, taking the pain out of what the people on TV finally confessed. The hidden message, the broken bills, hiding, in a black back room, twice locked, twice removed. The rich and the poor, a cousin, but there’s more, where that came from that we choose, or tend, to ignore.
Pick a poison, pick a fruit, like the other one said: I’d rather be dead.
I tend to forget how to relate, sometimes, some such, to each other and a stretched out story passed down from another forgotten tribe. This is what the line allows. There’s a scratch, and a rock, a touch and a match, to keep the time clicking on, like a bomb.
There’s a little liquor, I shiver, wanting to close the blinds. But my mind pounds, counting down the days until I can run sideways or inside, someplace, jumping through hoops if I have to or if it helps.
I know that at one time, they’ve said “One Day” and I still see them sitting all around; a circle is a monstrous thing that keeps them coming back, without missing anything, without a sound. It’s like a stamp; it’s like a message; it’s just a damn thing that they found.
Wondering: the word I hear if there’s a note hit that high every time. I let it simmer, and cut the chord, laying back ever so slightly, waiting, waiting, and finally unwinding.
Another turn twirls on by, the jagged, abrupt tuck, small rocks sticking out; like a pine branch on a path. I think it’s weird and sad and treacherous, and I haven’t told anyone that before. A year older, probably the reason why, passing by the wise, not surprised, uninspired and demoralized.
“Walk the Line,” they say, trying to turn a blind eye. So I’ll shut up and just get in the back, with a worried look, turning my neck, to see it all once more, before it’s over and I have truly tried to cross that fine line.