Best Amass Poems
It seems you only appear whilst I am asleep,
teasing rapid eye movement to awake and weep.
You hide, so I wonder how beautiful you must be,
fulfil my desires and give me the chance to see.
I believe you have beauty, eyes have never seen,
which allures me to places I have never been.
Maybe you were sculpted by Michelangelo's hands,
DaVinci drew you a smile only he understands,
Rembrandt's hand trembled at the sight of your grandeur,
maybe you are the one, Raphael's angels adore.
Your image mirrors Cleopatra's unique class,
which fades at daylight, regrets begin to amass.
I do not know your name, Silent remains the tongue,
yet I fondly believe in my heart you belong.
Silent One
23 May 2018
I see you coming, old age
Approaching, at an ever-accelerating pace,
Your face is so grim
Your expression is so austere
Your look so menacing,
A frightening sight you are
Many battles I have fought in life
With vigor and youth at my side
Thus victorious I emerged
But
Now that my allies slowly abandon me
One after the other,
I am left alone in the last battle to fight
A battle, I know beforehand I am bound
To lose
However
At this moment as trials begin
When all seem to get tougher by the day
A new ally I have found, willing to help me,
All my courage to amass to confront you,
Oh, merciless old age:
The wisdom I have acquired all these years
Roaming the planes of experience and
Learning!*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
18 June 2017
* This poem was honored as POTW on the 25th of June 2017. I thank everyone who has appreciated it as everyone who visit me and commented for without their love nothing would have been possible. THANK YOU, PS!
We'll miss your presence, Connie dear
the special kindness you have shown-
and now we're feeling quite alone.
We'll miss your poems, that is clear-
the time you took to reading ours-
your comments rating full five stars!
Your thoughtful words were so sincere,
and full of hope in your sweet way-
for us a gracious word bouquet.
Too soon, such sad news did appear!
Your husband, son- from life did pass.
Though crushed, your courage did amass.
Now, of your passing, we must hear!
Your restored health took a bad turn-
such unexpected news to learn!
We'll miss your presence, Connie, dear-
We'll miss your poems, that is clear.
Your thoughtful words were so sincere.
Too soon, such sad news did appear!
Now, of your passing, we must hear!
September 14, 2022
Form: "Constanza", invented by Connie Marcum-Wong
Who can know the mysterious
ways of the clouds?
They travel in white whipped masses
and gather like solemn pinnacles
looking upwards in reverent penitence.
Silent clouds slowly form and move about
like floating fields in a heavenly marsh
or like soft suspended pillows
making themselves vulnerable
to the temperamental ways of the wind.
Sometimes they seem almost helpless
as they wander in a ghost like state
like wastrels, weighed down
by the prospect of an impending storm.
The yawning blue sky
has become quickly overwhelmed
by clouds’ alluring apertures.
Now they collectively amass
in billowing silence
crowding the vast
sweeping hemisphere.
Slanting sunlight breaks forth
to spar with clouds’ menacing shadows
that threaten to overtake the light
like competing shadow puppets
during a midday matinee.
Clouds are endlessly breathtaking
and appear seemingly mute
except for faint whispers from the winds
as if time stopped to hold its breath
within the boundaries of earth and sky.
4/18/2023
Where doubts dissolve and roads disband,
there lies a quiet crescent beach
to crown the sea with golden sand.
A breath beyond the city's reach,
where waves recede like moving glass,
there lies a quiet crescent beach.
When evening fades and stars amass,
the silver sky consumes the sea
where waves recede like moving glass.
When moonlight skims the tallest tree
through wisps of fog and fragrant mist,
the silver sky consumes the sea.
Along the shore where waves persist,
the sunrise melts through violet clouds,
through wisps of fog and fragrant mist.
The sky discards its gauzy shrouds
where doubts dissolve and roads disband.
The sunrise melts through violet clouds
to crown the sea with golden sand.
Sheer lucid waves caress this oyster beach,
an aqua drowse viewed through a saffron lend,
and siren rip tides coax into a breach
as lambent grains of sand insouciant wend
the dunes of torpid eons through the bend
of hourglasses warped like new-blown glass.
In half-remembered mimes soft breezes send,
behind my eyelids as sweet lilts amass,
the plucking of a lyre string as high seagulls pass.
4/6/18
They say that love is blind; that's nature's way
to leave uncluttered pathways to our hearts,
so cupid's arrows see their targets lay
with no distractions when love-struck with darts.
The eyes of love see beauty sweet and pure;
their vision filled with roses and blue skies.
Without life's rain and clouds they can assure
a state of mind and heart with no goodbyes.
If love were not so blind it would not last,
for open eyes would see past cupid's goals.
But hearts once pierced with blinded love amass
the strength to later see uncovered souls.
Love firmly planted builds a broader view;
rose-tinted glasses traded for the clear,
to open up the narrow paths, breakthrough
to fuller scenes that blinded love might fear.
Yes, love is blind; a gift to draw us in-
the bait is sweet, we hunger for the taste.
Yet this love grows to fuller depths within
when planted, in deep soil, and firmly braced.
Sandra M. Haight
I heard Congress was spending money like a drunken sailor
And I thought this was disrespectful
Congress spends like they are obsessed
For the future they’re neglectful
It’s disrespectful to drunken sailors
It is totally wrong what they say
Drunken sailors never spent
Assuming their grandchildren would pay
I was once a drunken sailor
And you know what’s really funny
I always stopped spending
Whenever I ran out of money
Congress are elitist bastards
So let this story be known
When drunken sailors spent that money
They only spent their own.
Congress has no conscience
Part of the political machines
They can spell INTEGRITY
But they don’t know what it means
I’d rather be a drunken sailor
And spend only what I amass
Than to spend it like a congressman
And be a horse’s (OH!! You know what I mean)
BMC Vince Suzadail Jr USNR-Ret.
(Read later stanzas for more of the humour part ; parody of politics)
I Can't think well of a democracy
if nepotism and false promises
are part and parcel of its idiosyncrasy
A system of governance can't appeal to me
if it forever stinks of the 'stinking' rich plutocracy.
The media the ravening wolves many times their puppets,
together they howl for our divided attention
With wily words to win the masses of marionnettes
The nation's welfare merely their scheme in pretension.
Wonder why political power has to be the monopoly
of ambitious, vainglorious affluent power moguls.
Why can't they simply choose leaders
from any sincere poor yet wise and humble individuals?
The promises of a better world by 'em' politicians
are simply the oratory tricks of slick tacticians.
Demagogues come in all shapes and sizes
They come in 'perfect' future leader disguises
Pulling you and me to polling booths, luring us the dumbstruck voters
To amass as much power and wealth as possible in their limited quotas.
No wonder poor presidents are turned or burned
in the form of their rude and crude effigy cartoons
Comic sarcastic politics I say, since a caricature
it purposely lampoons!
Then the demonstrations, remonstrations
but they only invite riots and tear bomb gas
So if yah can keep your rallies peaceful
maybe you won't be such an ass.
And if yah do go ahead ranting, panting, slogun chanting
No seeds of discord nor weeds of hate be sowing, planting
for a showdown with fleshy arms, no metal arms can still be prancing, advancing
With sloguns not shotguns be ye protesting and demanding.
Thus I really wonder if politicos politicking
really do make the world tick.
Or do they simply in many places cause
timebombs to parallel the clock's tick?
(ok cast d ballot n vote 4 me as funny presidential candidate
of no-man's land ;
Letting Go
Letting go...sometimes it happens twice,
Eventually, as life does cast its dice.
The little ones we raised flew from the nest,
Though for sure, the time we shared was blessed.
Into our lives there came the second chance;
New little ones to share our lives, enhance
Grandparent's joy to love; lives interspersed.
Gift of second chance soon followed first...
Off they fly, now grown, new paths dispersed.
How quick the years go by when we
find joys we think will never pass.
Although they do, we happily
accept the new ones we amass.
joys of parenthood
relived with young grandchildren;
next joys...their success
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Letting Go - Three Form Style
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 04/13/2016
~10th Place~
Premiere Contest: Your Best Poem From Any of Laura Loo's Contests
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 09/18/2016
Lumpy Rumpy, now a high school lad,
I'm afraid is still acting very bad,
In his school laboratory he did amass,
Some stinking, self-made, rotten egg gas.
He corked it up in a chemistry vial,
Then down the town, he strolled for a while,
Choosing a site, the local paper shop,
He went in with the vial and took the top off.
He hid it behind a large magazine rack,
Waiting outside for the putrid gas attack,
In three minutes flat the shop emptied out,
People holding their noses as they ran about.
The fire brigade called, putting masks on,
To find the rotten aroma, so very strong,
Finally the brigade captain emerged holding the vial,
Lumpy grinned to himself,
Another prank done with such style.
Like the sun awakened, from slumber grey
Blessing every tortured fray
embraced my soul, your glorious gaze
and set my lonely heart ablaze
like the sun amass a brand new morn
upon your whispered wind was born
our love, till endless ages sworn
like sun enveloped, rainy days
you devoured all my hopeless haze…
and since dost now my heart amaze
with joy and laughter, lifes’ rephrase
but like the sun,twas time to set,
now life dost seem just wretched fret
sunless days chase moonless night
drifting along alas lonely plight
A Godly gift you were to thee
rewarding every desperate plea
now I must sail amidst raging sea
blind to hithers destiny.
But I shall rise above the moon
Amidst the troubled waters swoon
For love like ours it strengthens mast
To ride relenting waters vast
Till time dost ask for my return
To the place my tethered soul doth yearn
And all my cares shall be set free
your womb my love this soul shall flee
where thine was always meant to be
in Heavens Grace… Eternally
A horse that runs wild and free
Enjoys freedom with each stride
No saddle on his withers be
No grazing muzzle as a guide
No headpiece on his poll abides
His fetlock and his coronet feel the tickle of the grass
As his forelock ruffles in the breeze
No horseshoe on his hoof amass
With the wind he trots with ease
His gaskin flexes to run at his decree
His frog feels the soft earth as he stands
his coat feels the soothing rain
Unbridled by the bit's demand
His neighs echo through the plains
Upon these green fields, he reigns
His stifle and his hock aches once in awhile
But a good gallop 'neath the dome
of sky, brings him back in form and style
No crupper on his croup as he roams
For this horse calls freedom home.
~~~
10/4/16
*The crupper is the strap that runs from the horse's dock, over the croup, to the saddle.
The portrait of marriage a
Mosaic,
Made from hundreds of pieces,
Large and small but all of the
Same importance,
Together put
In
A masterful way for the desired outcome
To attain:
The completion of the portrayal of
A relationship, a life to last
Unfortunately,
No one has ever been blessed all
Pieces to amass
As
To perfection the given portrait to
Produce
For
Always some parts will be missing or
Not the desired ones would be in the
Right place
Thus
The portrait never gets done to
The artist’s complete satisfaction
However,
A good artist has to keep in mind the
Essential parts
That
Should never be missed from any mosaic
Of the sort:
Trust escorted by honesty
Selfishness coupled with admiration
Sensuality tied with affection
Love united with devotion
And
The X factor, that the majority never
Under consideration takes:
Synchronicity
For
Without it, all efforts will sooner or later,
Fail!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 OCTOBER 2014
Is this a world of lies and deceit?
Is deception the norm of the human life?
Must heartache reign for infinity?
Is living a lifetime a nightmarish hell?
Where can I find the solace I need?
When masks of deceit abound
And I know not who's friend or foe,
Who truly lends a hand in need?
Or is just calculating his own growth?
I feel resentment grow in me.
Am I to be a recluse, escape from all?
Am I to yearn for days gone by,
When childishly I trusted all?
I pull the brakes and little rays of hope
Amass and grow strong in my soul.
The dawning sun shines on the forest green.
There is a blessing in the dew that drips
From newly sprouted leaves of trees.
The white crisp frost thaws slowly
As the day grows slowly old like me.
The beauty of creation embraces all:
An ageless gift forever new.
And so I realize that God is there
With me to fill each of my lonely dreams
And fulfils me forever with His hope.