Best Amplitude Poems
Metaphors and similes exude when scripting poetic verse.
Across pale parchment, the poet's pen continues to traverse.
Ink courses like life blood, rushing through his eddied veins
as he ignores cramped fingers while writing echoing refrains.
Each stanza arranged by sequence in the creation of a story.
Sometimes his mysterious muse dances wildly with allegory.
He reins her in when he is focused but totally oblivious of time.
With vivid imagination, he sits penning in consummate rhyme.
Thoughts drift like flurries of snowflakes; his passion ignites
as each completed verse lifts his wizardry to greater heights.
In epic form he wanders within a level of verbose amplitude,
composing lyrical sonnets when creating a romantic interlude.
He indites with skill and talent of an accomplished musician,
striving to compose a magnum opus, a worthy composition.
If by chance his poetry is interpreted with eyes of admiration
he'll credit his gypsy muse for offering amorous inspiration.
Captive beauty, in the wilderness aloneGolden moments of a man’s solitudeStands gloriously, as when bliss does hone Caught within life are the mountains of stoneAwe inspiring view of man’s fortitudeCaptive beauty, in the wilderness alone Through a silent song, love’s nature atonesBreath taking heartbeats of the altitudesStands gloriously, as when bliss does hone Peaceful home in the trials, each to his ownSeasons renew with humble attitudesCaptive beauty, in the wilderness alone Sharpened senses, now feel all the tone,of gracious gifts, in their amplitudeStands gloriously, as when bliss does hone All of His creation, in its self does grownAlone with God is a sufficient multitudeCaptive beauty, in the wilderness aloneStands gloriously, as when bliss does hone
My love softly walks with my heart in hand
down a path that will lead
to the center of my being.
In the windows that are my loves eyes
I can see the promise of all tomorrows.
With the caress of a hand a declaration
of what is yet to come.
Warm sultry words are gently spoken
yet strong enough to penetrate
all walls of fear or hesitation.
Lips swollen with loves need now dire
burn in me a path of fire.
Heart to heart and flesh to flesh
two souls meet in loves pyre.
The symphony of mind and soul
rise and fall with unquenching amplitude.
Like the cadence beat of a kettle drum
two hearts beat as one.
As emotions soar to the pinnacle of
celestial firmament all time seems suspended.
Then like an artesian well love explodes
consuming the two souls that lay within.
As a chalice passed each luxuriates in the
liquid pearls that lay therein.
The rapture now complete gently settles
to peaceful bliss as the two now bask
in the afterglow side by side
with hearts in hand.
Metaphors and similes flow freely from my pen
when I am scripting and scribing in poetic verse.
Across the width of pale parchment pages
the nib of my feathered pen continues to traverse.
Ink courses fathoms deep within me like life blood,
rushing through the eddied channels of my veins.
I struggle to ignore the cramping in my fingers.
There's no hesitation when writing echoing refrains
when I imprison myself in poetry.
Each stanza I carefully arrange in proper sequence
as if it's a bairn born for the creation of my story.
Sometimes my gypsy muse joins me in the dance
when I write with abandonment in wild allegory.
I never try to rein her in when we're both focused
and driven to complete a poem, oblivious of time.
With vivid imagination, romantic sonnets are birthed
as I sit penning line after line in consummate rhyme,
incarcerated at my desk until I've written the last line.
My thoughts tumble like flurries of pristine snowflakes.
With a single spark of romance my passion ignites
as each completed verse falls perfectly into place, it lifts
my need to write compositions of love to greater heights.
Day and night, I find myself a wanderer, lost in reveries
where I journey in a private kingdom of verbose amplitude.
Around each curve in the road is a new challenge to be met,
and yet, none thwart me when trysting in romantic interlude.
Rude would be the one who would disturb me
when I'm handcuffed to a work in progress.
I try to indite with some semblance, dare I call it skill or talent?
By no means am I an accomplished laureate by my admission.
As a mere poet, I do not strive to compose a magnum opus,
but a meaningful collection of verses as a worthy composition.
If by chance, my poetry is interpreted and appreciated by some
who view my emotional imagery with soulful eyes of admiration,
I will credit my gypsy muse with her conspiratorial whispers
and amorous experiences as the impetus for my inspiration.
I hold the key to unlock my self-inflicted prison door,
and used when at last my pen has been laid to rest.
THE ALTURNATING CURRENT IS CHANGING THE BUDDA AMPLITUDE,
WITH OUT THE ARTIFICIAL AUROMA THERE IS NO MASS OR MAGNUTUDE,
SO WE INTENCE THE THC SO THE CATALIST CHANGE THE CHEMICAL EQUATION,
TRULY BLUNTING THE AVERAGE COCKASIAN,
MAKING THE COEFFICIENT COLLISON THEORY COLLID,
REAREANGING THE CURRENT CORROSION RATE CREATING AND INCREASE IN SUASIDE,
THIS DATA DIFFACTIONS THE CONDUCTER TO BE ACUSED OF CONTROL OVER
ELECTROMAGNETIC ENERGY,
MAKING DEATH BY FALMIBILITY,
A POSSABILITY,BUT HOSSTILITY,
IS A COMMON ETHINIC PROBLEM CAUSING INTERNAL COMBUSTION,
CAUSING THE IRIS WATER MAGNETIC DOMAINS DESTRUCTION,
CREATING THE PERFIT CERUM WITH AND ISATOPE LASER MADE WITH NOBLE GAS,
THATS THE REASON WHEN IMM HIGH I BUST DOUBLE ON ASS,
MY ABILITIES FUSE WITH PURE SUBSTENCE PULLING THE REFLECTING TELOCOPE,
MY MIND CONTAINS THE SOFTWARE OF ANF ISOTOPE,
IM HIP-HOPS STRUCTUAL FORMUALA AND TRANSMUTATION,
MY AGRESSION WILL MENTALLY CHANGE THE IDEA OF TRANSFUSION CAUSING
CONSTUPATION,
CAUSE IM STUCK IN A LISTENERS MIND LIKE A VAPERIZED VIBRATION,
MAKING CHRONIC DISAPEAR UNDER VAPORIZATION,
WITHOUT CONDUCTING AN IVESTAGATION,
ON COCKS UNDER THERMAL EXPANTION,
MY SOUND QUALITY CREATES THE PERFECT CERUM,
WITHOUT THE MERCURY OR THE CALCIUM,
FUSINGOXAGEN IN THE LUNGS WITH HELIUM,
MAKING THE EYES COMPOSE NEON,
THEN THE BLOODS SUBJECT TO ARGON,
KRYPTON,
XENON,
AND RADON,
WITCH MAKES ME RARE LIKE RADUIM,
ON THE PERIOTIC TABLE WITH OUT THE MTRIC RULER,
MY FLOWS ARE COOLER,
I STICK TO MC'S LIKE A TRAIN TRACK IN THE WINTER,
WHILE THERE BEATS NEVER MOVE ME FROM THE CENTER,
SO IM RIPPIN THERE ADAMS APPLES SO THEY HAVE NO SEX-LINKED-TRAITES,
PUTTING ME ON THE STAGE AND WEAK MC'S BEHIND THE GATES,
CAUSING EMENEM AND THE REST ON THEM,
TO KILL THERE DATES,
WITCH SHOWS ME EXACTLY WHY THE DISCOVERY CHANEL STATES,
WHERE PRIMATES,
LIFE VARIATES,
BUT TIME NEVER WAITS..
Jamaica, I hear you laughing now like a water sprite's
Amplitude of songs. You splash against the shivering light,
Militant, your bold children like stars of distant nights
Awakening to dance around the peonies throbbing sight
Infinite wisdom exalt you in your intellect and your grace
Consistent in your virtues green, industrious in your place
Admiration like a candle I bring to the table of delights.
Out of Many one people, the motto of primeval unity
Utterly devoted to human justice and our equal rights
Talented and special for your freedom to humanity
Overcomer of a dark beggining, giver of dawn and dew
Fearless torch bearers of man's true democratic dawn
Mother of the Indies, nurturer of the great spiritual view
Artistically incline us that dancers will quadrille on the lawn
Nanny and Cudjoe will be sung with heroes still unborn
Yesterday's trouble too will but a sudden shred of air
Owed to you are kingdoms where your sons all toiled for
National heritage with courage when civil rights had its scar
Endowed us again with visions for tomorrow's dim despair
Prosper once more from our ingenuity and will to succeed
Emerald fields shall be then the palaces of our humble race
Offering strangers and friends nourishment where we feed
Pledge we this to you: loyalty, love, and passion's embrace
Loving you for loving us, O Island where the seven rivers roar
Eternal blessings crown your people, their toil and your shore
count on it...
that numbers made the world
we came to believe
after all ten digits
long ago ran out
and we stuck our toes into the fray
to count and be counted anyway
and they too ran out
a foot at a time
and numbers became stuck to
our rulers feet or by meter,
our sole, soul repeater
then we counted awhile,
and soon wired some beads
to a wooden frame
'cause, unconsciously we knew
it'd never be the same
and abacuses counted because
Sumerians knew the power of
columns of orders of magnitude to
give counting a certain, amplitude
and soon balances were forged and
everything compared to something else -
grain to sheep,
sheep to amphora,
amphora to slaves,
slaves to children
children to wives
neighbors lives to our own lives
covetousness counted as
a capital idea
long before Adam Smith
or any form of mercantilism
came to bear witness on a weakness of man
yet who can count on power
is there a conversion factor
that shows more or less
that less is more than some detractor
what's the ratio of
desire to need to
redemption to volition to
love to life -
there's a number of ways to count it
© Goode Guy 2013-04-11
The young generation, who believe in dissolution,
promulgating the manifesto
“tradition is the grave of the banality,
only solecism is the quickening of new life…”
yell upholding a flag similar to a bad check
which is unable to secure the needed guarantee for the debt.
They are sycophantic speculators hopping on the bandwagon
of the time, they are nothing but a product of a certain moment
of the swinging pendulum, their unfounded thought changes in consonance with the direction and the amplitude of the pendulum.
Although they think highly of themselves,
they assert themselves as the forerunner of the times,
actually, they are unbridled reckless colts jumping, hopping,
and running blindly in the wilderness.
They consider heteronomy as a shackle,
they, therefore, rush to a smithy and heat the shackles to cut it off,
they insist upon autonomy as the beat of the heart,
they, therefore, lay on the cold operating table to cut it open
to see the inside of the heart bearing an excruciating pain
but they found it full of red and blue blood
clotted in two atrium and two ventricles, the blood
contaminated with filthy and turbid human minds
which carried on from generations of generations
of past unchanged.
They try to ascend their thoughts, nonetheless,
above the traditional ones, it’s nothing more than
a word game, a disgusting prank.
Are they mad? Though they cannot even jump
nor have wings, they try to fly,
ah, poor generation, ill, crooked, lost,
who were not even touched by a drop of Medusa’s
poisonous blood, flap wings imitating Pegasus about to fly.
Death Mask
The man lay quietly prone as if sleeping,
All earthly cares laid aside for safe keeping.
A hushed silence with amplitude filled the room,
Pungent incense wafted amid flowers in full bloom.
The body now lay supine and never to arise again,
A storybook now closed on once upon a time and then.
What was left of the man still lay placidly on the face,
The fingers, legs, toes now immobile with undue haste.
The face, once lively expression, in death now wooden,
Once a wealth of emotions, now as a child’s sorely chidden.
The face still framed as in life with old-fashioned whiskers,
Sunburned and blotchy as though recovering from blisters.
He had the look of an old farmer or sea captain in leathers,
He no doubt worked outside, familiar with all weathers.
Grey cascading curls now surrounded the venerable head,
The man’s features giving the air of being frozen instead.
The death mask, ah the one mask that will never be lifted,
Now that the soul has moved on and elsewhere drifted.
We wear a series of masks all our lives in search of peace,
This mask gives nothing away but its feeling of release.
A life with you, lived in the blossoms
Showered together by rain, greener in the autumn
Close to your heart, a place with immense beauty
Where we lived together, loving being our duty.
Your look exhibits smiles, of infinite pretty flowers
Your fabrics caressing my body, sensation lasted for hours
Your fragrance rooted in my breath, seems to have immortal power
We cuddled each other endlessly, conjoining our loving minds
Love within growing stronger, our dreams met a thousand times.
A living passion that glowed, whenever our eyes met
Desirous thirst engraved within, revealed itself then i bet
Gentle touches through the bodies, hastily, its her soothing fingertips
Delectable and soulfulness, i found, the taste of your lips
A blissful glory of love, closely entangles our eyes
Lustful and intimate souls, find and bind their ties
Every tide in our bodies, when builds up the the amplitude
Every lurid desire then awakes, the amatory deeply blued.
Not just so platonic, not just is thirst my dear
Whatever the heart desires, that truly is love my peers
No dams shall ever hold, the boundless matters of the heart
No words shall ever define, it in its truest verse.
Experienced a third bigger earthquake recently but this poem I wrote for a smaller earthquake years ago)
My first trivial tremor experience had been in Southern Africa
And now this puny earthquake I felt in Tanzania.
I saw every thing waltz to and fro and lightly shake
Bottles turned ballerinas dancing slightly to the quake
I watched glass decors on the walls quiver and jolt
Scaredy me was half asleep, no wonder didn't bolt
I thought I was dreaming or imagining things
My bed and chairs converted into gentle swings.
All vials and vases
jiggled to dance a jig
The lil horrors over
So I cast humor's wig
Ah when began rattling, the knick knacks on my dresser
Was when it dawned upon me in horror
That this was really an early dawn tremor.
I phoned some friends but those early risers
Hadn't even noticed or felt those tremors
I bet they thought I was spreading false rumours
After all poets are stereotyped as fanciful philosophers.
My cell phone keypad became my panic button in a flurry
Of course I wanted all to be alerted, alarmed in worry
Nobody believed me until it was announced in our mosque
And every body was then called by muezzin to pray the signs prayers
Then every body knew the tremor was no hoax
Some patted me for being the first to notice this shaking of earthly layers
Of course I thanked God this was no major earthquake
I've heard in other places how terribly the earth can crack and shake
Who else but God could I owe my heartfelt gratitude
For this being my 2nd low power tremor in magnitude
As it measured low on the Richter scale
based on the seismic waves' amplitude
But the earth was shaken and I too was shaken
No pics of the shivering axis were taken
Todate runs down my spine such a shiver
On recalling how the mother earth did quiver
I have seen videos of earthquakes where the earth juggles things
like a salt shaker
May God protect us from such a waker and breaker
I plunged into the opportunities of life
The world such a squeaky stage
I played with the players
Competing to be the best
Quantity and quality all mattered
So with energy it had to be mastered
And hitting the gym after all that kept me even further
From my little corner
My little dancing lamp
Where the pillow saved my words
And the blanket captured my strengths
Where the bed sheet was such a friend
And I had me, alone, in tune with me
Solace in solitude
In sheath and amplitude
Deep breath
Then a shallow one
What's that now?
Another shallow one?
And another
OK, there is a deep one now
And now a shallow
And there is no rhythm to it
There is no fixed interval
The breathing is like a ship in rough seas
Tossed and pushed around
Randomly by inconsistent waves
I know little else than this way to breathe
Like spears tossed randomly at me
One by one they pierce my flesh
Fear
Anxiousness
Doubt
Over and over again
But over what?
Over nothing
No one is throwing them
They just keep hurtling toward me
So my body convulses as the steel cuts through me
Again and again
I think little of it
Having lived with them so long
From waking in the morning to going to sleep at night
And sometimes even when I dream
But wait ......
What's happening .....
This is ....
What is this ....
Help me I'm scared ....
I don't know this ....
Something is wrong ....
No ....
I'm in error ...
Something is right ....
Suddenly an angel has laced her two arms around me
Pulling me toward her
Into her soft silky bosom
I feel the warmth of her skin
I hear her strong heart beating
And then I see it .....
Magic
Thunder
Every single spear breaks against her like paper
The titanium and steel heads
Deathly sharp and precise
Shatter against her, instantaneously into dust
The heavy wooden shafts are split into a million pieces
So small that they may have well just disappeared
Again and again and again
Yet there are no marks on her
Not one
The shield remains unscathed
What is this creature made of
That she effortlessly shatters steel
And crushes the earth
She pulls and holds me tighter
Kissing me on my forehead
And as she does so
Nothing hits her again
Life surrenders and tosses nothing at her again
At me again
I lace my arms around her
My beautiful indestructible shield
My angel
And as I do so, my heart beats
With renewed strength
With exacting amplitude
In a perfect rhythm
No longer do the spears pierce me
No longer do they cut my flesh
For they fear her terribly
They do not dare come near her
For they will meet only with destruction
My infinitely powerful shield
My angel
How true it is that one can't find better friends anywhere
than in this friendly community we call, " Poetry Soup " ;
before verses sounded too awkward and had no flair...;
until they all invited me in and tightened the loop!
And because of this devoted group of poets,
many have won contests and published books;
I have learned a lot from them and as my skills get better,
and like Ovid who wrote anywhere he went, I like to share!
How true it is that one can't find better friends anywhere
than in this circle of friendship where everyone can communicate
their thoughts penetrating minds much thicker than the air;
shouldn't everyone participate and start an interesting debate?
We have come to the right place by using these pens that seek amplitude
to make all potent tremble and change their unacceptable attitude;
words have power and we must use them prudently and not be rude:
make them ring as bells that chyme with joy to meet extreme altitude!
r
Based on Portrait No. 1, Blue and Green Music by Georgia O'Keeffe 1921
THE WATER, THE WAVE AND THE FLAME (Edited by Debbie Guzzi)
Against the wave, the flames,
I rise high. I run deep.
My amplitude expresses me;
I clash against the rocks.
Strong and powerful, I am,
Just because, because, I am equation.
I am tall. I am firm.
My mortar expresses me.
I support the sky.
Strong and powerful, I am.
Just because, because, I am foundation.
I soar wide. I am profound.
My glow expresses me;
I flash against the wind.
Strong and powerful, I am.
Just because, because, I am radiant.
As one, we are strong, together stronger:
the water, the wall, and the flame.