Best All Told Poems
Dedicated to Lorie Jean, Though She'll Never Know
Asleep, I cannot escape my love’s depth for you.
Awake, I cannot deny my loathing towards you.
Confusion and missing settle-stay in my pain’s cliché.
Thoughts of you weigh down my moments every day.
Long is the time I have spilled grief yet failed its release,
but dreams weave my joy strung to net grief’s relief.
Asleep, I see us blend as we did easily back then.
As before, we pool play, float happily and swim.
In sunshine, we decide our age will be just ten
as laughter splashes our feel with child-like appeal.
In dreams, we cook, play cards, take road trips,
critique movies, compete to title older song hits.
Our laughter soars until you ‘ink’, and then we
laugh more, stopping only when laugh sore.
Secrets from one’s lips merit the other’s ears
to heart-hear and hold all told in love-lined folds.
My feet twitch as I dream-walk to your home
and street-met you dream-walking to my own.
In dreams I see all I reality-miss; your face,
voice, moods, humor and unique attitudes.
I live our togetherness, our special groove,
in cherished dream scenes of us as still a two.
As soon as I first wake, reality steals my happy,
smashes the contentment dreams grant me
while missing aches swirl colors of lonely.
I ponder whether while in your own slumber,
you also dream plunder from our past splendor
for assistance with your friend-grief ender.
Categories:
all told, confusion, dream, friend, friendship,
Form:
Free verse
I am able to move one’s spirit to the pinnacle of joy or drive it to depths of despair.
Not a chore to evoke passionate emotion--convey love, hate, life, and death.
Within those four small words lies our meek human existence all told.
To omnipresent Alpha and Omega, of what core lies between?
Now I sit with pen in hand to ponder many words of wit.
Gift to paint, not I, yet may cast an image to mind.
Bright lavender fields coax the amorous duo
to mingle with its deep, heady scent.
Amidst wet sewage soaked dirt
a filthy small child lays
weeping for mother
a bloody heap
close by.
See?
My!
The glee
holding words
Make them express.
Giving wide literate detail.
Understand to hold a soft heart.
Else never will you touch one’s soul.
So this is merely the lone reason I compose.
Excitement and warm sympathy and fiery passion,
within many a sorrow and tears and friendly persuasion,
in absolute care I do write and lay my psyche upon each page,
then wonder at length the primary purpose of such artistic endeavors.
Who among the world’s populace might gain an insight from what I scribe?
Does this really matter at all; since rarely, if ever, is it what one says… but how.
Categories:
all told, imagination, introspection, philosophy, words,
Form:
Shape
Born in Madrid, in fifty nine,
A military Kid, 3rd of 7 in the assembly line;
They named me Michael, but I answer to Wedge,
A Master Sergeant’s son—not much here that's cutting edge.
I grew up a runner, and I wrestled some,
I was a skateboarding brawler and a surfer bum;
Didn’t try very hard in primary school,
Laziness, not ignorance—I was a bit of a tool.
Then I met this fine girl, long hair just like copper,
Who took me to church, sweet, innocent, and proper;
At Wood’s Grove on knees, accepting Him for long haul,
In 1978—just weeks before Uncle Sam called.
In a flash came the Navy, Marriage, college, and kids,
A submarine, 2 surface ships—I was a bit of a squid;
On to Chapel Hill, where I taught Midshipmen,
By ’94, farewell my Navy—I’m now a businessman.
Life moved fast from the crib thru each grade,
For Mom & two girls—my female brigade;
Growing up we did lots, mostly travels and school,
Plus church, school sports, dance and piano recitals, how cool!
Today, they’re gone—our empty nest in their wake,
New lives, with spouses, and pups—and new names.
So I paint and I hike—while my soulmate sews and she reads;
And we both now teach high school—sharing Christ as He leads.
I’m grateful my Navy recalled this old goat,
To lead men and women, ashore and afloat;
Retirement and selection, to teach young Cadets,
A large pain in the butt—but I have no regrets.
After 60 odd years, I’m modestly content,
With where my life’s been, and headed—once spent.
But mostly I’m thankful—family, friends and great health,
And for wonderful friendships—the source of my wealth!
Some say sixty's getting old,
Creaky knees, aches and pains, hard hearing—all told.
And I contend, aging's NOT for the faint hearted,
But most who know me know—I'm just getting started!
Categories:
all told, age, career, children, family,
Form:
Rhyme
DEAD AT HOME -For Veteran's Day
It's a gray day, in the café,
by the side of the road.
There's an old man, took a firm stand,
trying to loosen the load.
It is struck luck, with his last buck,
but he pays for his soup.
He has no wife, all of his life,
he is out of the loop.
He will bum thumb, in a ride from,
here to his cardboard box.
There's a sleeping roll, a piece of coal,
and a pillow made of rocks.
Allegory.
No glory.
A mad sad told cold story.
Alliteration, of an allegation, on how he kills for glory.
Then the lie dies, in GI's, when our soldier kills a man.
All told, he is not bold, but this tale is secondhand.
He preaches whale's tales, of army mad males,
as he calls for his god.
Then he dreams schemes, of the war machines,
and ghosts that run him odd.
Then he weeps sleeps, and a secret keeps,
and he hates the morning light.
He has lost his place, in the human race,
and he always will take flight.
He will dine fine, on the red wine,
which he drinks from a paper cup.
He will watch stars, and count his scars,
but his heart has given up!
Allegory.
No glory.
A mad sad told cold story.
Alliteration, of an allegation, on how he kills for glory.
Then the lie dies, in GI's, when our soldier kills a man.
All told, he is not bold, but this tale is secondhand.
-Edlynn Nau
Categories:
all told, addiction, angst, betrayal, heartbreak,
Form:
Ballad
The people gathered around him;
As he was laid to rest that day,
Not far from the water,
A few yards from the bay.
The Preacher preached a sermon,
And the people sang a hymn,
Then they all told their stories;
Of what he'd done for them.
"I was lost out on the water;
In a cold December storm,
But he kept his light there burning,
To guide me back from harm."
Too late upon the water;
Caught without a light;
Many a weary Seaman;
Was saved there in the night.
Faithful Lighthouse Keeper,
Let me stand faithful too;
That others may see Jesus,
In things I say and do.
That others out there drifting
On life's troubled sea,
Might see the light of Jesus;
When they look at me.
Categories:
all told, allegory, anxiety, appreciation, christian,
Form:
Rhyme
Against the azure sky so bright
she flutters by,
with grace on high
in ever random flowing flight.
This lovely butterfly behold
in orange and black,
no beauty lack;
‘tis nature’s gift to man all told.
She flits through garden flowers hued,
from coral bells
to daisy shells,
to sip sweet nectar, natures food.
I gaze at beauty from afar;
she flutters free,
cannot she see
the one who thinks she is a star.
I’ve watched her all these many years,
and seen her bloom
from her cocoon;
a father proud who stands and cheers
as daughter spreads her wings in flight.
With grace on high,
she flutters by
against the azure sky so bright.
September 3, 2018
Contest: Enclosed Rhyme - September, 2018
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Categories:
all told, butterfly, daughter, growing up,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
My father didn’t cry until my brother did.
It was the final good-bye between three men, who are all told that they are not the type of people to cry because they are not me or her.
Don’t cry they plead to themselves.
Don’t show this emotion.
My little brother was the first to give in to the nature,
The first to show who he truly is,
The first to not only weep as a father left but also start a movement between every man that knows not to cry.
Soon after my father caved.
The tears of a man who hasn’t cried even when he landed upside down on the motorcycle track was sobbing holding his son so hard begging he won’t have to let go.
In his mind he is screaming at himself not to go
To Not leave his boy,
The boy who was brought into this world by him and was now being left behind.
Last to cry was my big brother.
As he went into the embrace, I remember thinking to myself how dead his flower must be as he never waters it.
For after all a flower cannot grow without water
Even if that water is the tears of two breaking brothers and a leaving father.
My father then held us as we all wept,
My brothers and me,
My dad and my mum.
We Wept for the past and the future,
For us and for them
For the flowers that can’t be watered
And for the flowers that are dead.
Categories:
all told, 10th grade, boy, brother,
Form:
Free verse
These are the men who go off to war
They go overseas to an uncertain shore
It’s hard to recall what they’re fighting for
But we’re all told we’re gonna need more
These are the men
These are the men
These are our men who conquer the land
With heads held high and motives so grand
It doesn’t take long; we don’t understand
Why it’s not working out as it was planned
These are our men
These are our men
These are our men who sail on the sea
Protecting the people like you and like me
It doesn’t take long before we agree
Right here at home is where they need to be
These are our men
These are our men
These are our men who fly through the air
Incredible courage, where no one else dares
But after a while, we all start to care
Why they’re not here and why they’re over there
These are our men
These are our men
Most of these men are scarce more than boys
They should be at home playing with toys
Without a care, finding life’s joys
Not the tip of the spear for politic’s ploys
These are our men
These are our men
When will this end, Lord? When will it cease?
This striving for war instead of for peace
The world is a hostage in need of release
And Satan’s dominion just seems to increase
These are our men
These are our men
Come, Maranatha, yes, come, Jesus, come!
This battle is over; You’ve already won
Deceiver defeated, he’s now on the run
Praise be to God: Father, Spirit, and Son
These are your men
These are your men
I will trust you, Lord, that you’re in control
You’re here in the weeping, You’re here to console
You oversee all, watching over my soul
In You all things fit, in You all things whole
This is Amen
This is Amen
--------
This is one that I read to myself in constant time, 4 beats per lines 1-4, 2 beats for lines 5-6
I keep changing the refrain. I think I like this best - move from impersonal to personal to realization that they are in the Lord's care, and finally, 'let it be so'.
5 These are the boys (2x)
6 Seems to increase (2x)
7 Father and Spirit/Father and Son
Categories:
all told, anxiety, god, trust, war,
Form:
Rhyme
Simple song
By Michelle Morris
09/11/2020
You remind me of everything that's amazing in this world,
And I can't stop thinking about you and everything you do;
And I know that you love me in all the ways you are,
So thank you for being you and all the kindness you have shown...
Oh-oh...
Chorus
My words are simple and my thoughts are pure,
I love you always and will forever more,
And no matter what happens or wherever we are,
This remains a simple song, binding our love for all time...
(end chorus)
Our time together is the best I've ever known,
And it's been a lifetime of blessings in our home,
We've known each other for forever and a day,
And we tell each other everything,
We love and work and play...
Oh-oh...
Chorus
Please know that I appreciate everything we have and will always feel blessed to have such joy and happiness;
You make a difference to my life and the world,
And everyone knows you're an upstanding guy all told...
Oh-oh-oh... Oh-oh-oh...
Chorus
Yes, my words are simple but the meaning is deep and pure...
I love you forever and in my soul you are heard...
© Michelle Morris, 2020
Categories:
all told, emotions, love, simple, song,
Form:
Lyric
133
133
CharlaXFabels
ListZapper
Http:www.listzapper.com/free
There is so many inventions being worked on it is not surprising to the mee the
eye to see a listzapper being developed at least in some Chinese factory. Add it
on the computer next to the inversion control next to the hypertext transferor near
the over stimulated granule hardware where the windows refresher is at. The
internet picture convertor was the newest completed inventory. Now there is a
need for the minds at MIT to make the eye a way to zap a list without doing the
separated items just one more at a time. The items are usually removed by right
click one at a time. The listzapper would be the answer to this modulated
problem just hit the link once to the linkzapper then hit the first item in the list
instead of just that one item open the linkzapper gets them all each and every
one of them all in a row even iff there is 1001 of them all told. The information
scrambles into the hardware forms a list again at the other end and becomes a
new worded document again. Then hit the zapperlist@ the newest test of time
the list is saved into the single files. The need to spend more hours at the board
is gone the keys we need are now limited to only two or even one. Just make a
giant button in the middle of my keyboard so eye can hit the linkzapper and then
upload the zapperlist my work would thus be finished the need for typing gone
the hours that we spend inside the lieberry can be used for having fun…visit
www.zapperlist.com
Categories:
all told, computer-internet, imagination, science fiction,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Limerick: Once a born blind man was promised full sight
Once a born blind man was promised full sight
By an ophthalmologist fully tight
Two slits and dabs all told
Saw in wonderful world –
Beauty Contest: gouged his own eyes outright.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Categories:
all told, beauty, fashion, women,
Form:
Limerick
There once was a tiny little ant
that was so, so very small
To him, every other single ant
was great big, huge and tall
He tried to help the best he could
as they all lived in their nest
The other ants would push him aside
and say, " Why don't you take a rest "
There's nothing here that you can do
said, the ants that were passing by
He knew that he was way too small
yet, he knew that he should try
To help his family do their chores
after all he is an ant
But, no matter how hard he tried each day
they all told him, he can't
They told him he was way too small
'cause he could fit on the head of a pin
They said to him, " Just go away "
" You never did fit in "
That sad and heartbroken little ant
decided to leave that day
He would rather live all by himself
Than to be treated in that way
He traveled across the countryside
and, for days he never stopped
Then, a great big wind came and lifted him high
to a tree limb he was dropped
A storm was brewing, the wind was blowing
and he knew that he must hide
He saw a tiny little hole
so he ran, then crawled inside
He found a little tunnel
that led him deep within the tree
It came to a great big opening
to his amazement he did see
Another colony of little ants
that seem to be like him
But, it was hard to see within that tree
'cause the light was very dim
He had to get much closer
He had to really see
Are they really little ants?
Are they just like me?
He saw, they were just like him
as his face began to grin
He asked if he could live with them
so they happily took him in
There's a moral to this story
about this tiny little ant
You can always do what you put your mind to
'Cause there's no such thing as, can't
Categories:
all told, childhood, children, fun,
Form:
Ballad
I just made it in time for Mary's funeral, it had been raining
heavily all day but the sun came out through the clouds.
And as I watched her coffin being lowered into the ground,
I was filled with emotions pouring out of my soul.
I recall that typical day four years ago that my co-worker
and friend told me she had discovered a lump in her breast.
No pain, she said, probably nothing at all but we all told her
to go have it checked.
The pathology report came quickly, Stage IV, invasive
massive cancer tumors; in lymph nodes, in her breast,
metastasized. I recall thinking how is this possible? Mary
was hopeful, saying, I will beat this. She joined groups,
did walks with others with breast cancer. And she wore
pink. At work we all wore pink ribbons.
Both breasts were removed within weeks and the nodes,
and maybe more; then she started chemotherapy treatment,
and radiation and hormone therapy. I think sometimes, why
did she go through all that when the end was obvious to all.
Cancer victims must have exceptional inner courage.
Mary called me to say she was losing her hair, next she
lost her eyebrows and eyelashes, her finger nails and her
toenails were frail and discolored. We painted them pink.
She lost so much weight, oh she was so thin. When I visited
I had to hold back tears, only after leaving did I cry.
When I saw her, Mary wore a pink turban or hat and put
on makeup and big earrings. Actually she looked quite
beautiful to me. But she showed me her horrible scars and
would weep. She talked about breast cancer awareness
and the need for research. So much inner strength.
There was a hospital bed in her living room. Husband slept
on the couch, cat in her bed. How she loved that cat, they
had put a pink ribbon around its neck. Family and friends
came, in hushed tones they kissed her goodbye. She just
smiled and one evening alone with her husband and her
cat, she died. He said it was peaceful.
Please support cancer research and awareness always and,
remember, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month,
so wear PINK!
______________________
September 8, 2015
Narrative
For the contest, Pinktober #2, sponsor, Poet Destroyer
10th Place
Categories:
all told, courage, death, friend, loss,
Form:
Narrative
Blinded, By The Light
If you can truly find yourself you can be truly happy
if not, well the world will eat you and beat you until you cry no more...
I see most people crying. Me, I ran out of tears and found myself the hard way.
I survived long enough to hear the Nightbird sing, a drunk rooster crow and
the coyote catch that damn roadrunner-in my dreams..
After that a light blinded me and within that blindness came a realization,
that three things are important - God, love and family.
All the rest is window dressing and leftover refried beans with no damn chili's...
Every morn that rising sun tells me , get up and be worthy of the air you breathe
Stand as tall as you can and never look down on a man unless extending a helping hand to him.
To do less is not only lazy but selfish and rude. Find a gift to give somebody, anybody at least every week if not every day. Does not have to be great , could be as easy as giving kind words when they are needed.
This was pretty much all told to me as a 10 year old by my grandfather. Some of it I picked up on my own after living a damn wild young life! With too many shallow relationships, broken hearts(including mine often) and more than a few real scars, all of which I came by honestly.
Now looking at the sunset I see rainbows just beyond the horizon. Each one has a pot of gold..
Methinks I will give that gold away and plant flowers in the pots to give to my wife.
And that folks is the wisdom sent in each ray of that blinding light I was blessed to have found!
Robert. J. Lindley , 04-19-2015
p.s.
Stay tuned in folks. I plan on another shameful confession coming soon..
Starting with my first bout of stealing a kiss from a pretty gal that I loved..
"Ain't life great"? If ya answered no then you had best get to really living!
You are either sleeping too much or not trying hard enough!
Drink your coffee hot , black and with gusto. If you just can not manage the gusto, a strong shot of good whiskey will do!
Categories:
all told, blessing, happiness, love, philosophy,
Form:
Narrative
Came To Say Goodbye.
They gathered at her graveside,
they all came to say goodbye.
Reflecting on their memories
some began to cry.
They all told the stories
they've all heard once or twice.
Times when she was naughty
and times when she was nice.
They spoke of broken hearts she knew
and angels in the sky.
They said she earned her angels wings.
Then someone asked them why?
She fought against the devil
as a mother and a wife.
She was tried by fire
when her young son lost his life.
She cussed just like a sailor
when someone made her mad.
But every day she gave thanks
for all the things she had.
She's been known to drink a bit
she loved her sweet red wine.
But she'd comfort a stranger
and tell them things will be just fine.
For better or for worse she said
and she did pretty well.
How did she earn her angels wings?
She carried them through hell.
Edwin C Hofert
Categories:
all told, analogy, bereavement,
Form:
Rhyme