Best Antecedents Poems
'Twas a dark and stormy night! (OK - so I'm being a tad histrionic!)
The Earl of Pence was lounging by the fire sipping his gin and tonic.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared sending shivers down his spine.
Even his hound, Lord Percival, was so upset that he began to whine!
'Twas well-known thereabouts that phantoms haunted the earl's castle,
And on such frightful nights they were bound to cause a spooky hassle.
Nefarious deeds had occurred within Penceshire Castle walls in the past,
And were replayed in 'spirited' form leaving generations of earls aghast!
A shriek from the bowels of the castle sent the dog into howling fits,
And brought the earl bounding to his feet, scaring him out of his wits!
The blood-curdling screams were from a former Earl of Pence who in 1642,
Was hung by his thumbs in the dungeon for a fair maiden that he slew!
Suddenly, the ancient organ in the hall began playing eerie chords.
Heard on the floor above was rowdy dancing by ladies, knights and lords.
Ghastly emanations from the past paraded through the terrified earl's room,
Antecedents all, leering and grinning and predicting the anxious earl's doom!
Lord Percival sensing trouble long before, across the moat had bolted!
The storm subsided and the apparitions faded leaving the earl quite jolted!
He felt a bony hand upon his shoulder that took away his final breath.
'Twas his valet who offered a gin and tonic to the earl who now lay in death!
I am a Savonarola chair
carved from discarded
remnants of cedar and birch that
littered our backyard -
waiting to be burned
or broken by a trespasser’s hands,
or tended to by the warm touch
of a gardener’s natural instinct;
an individual
who values growth
and prosperity.
I am an object
forged from splinters and sweat.
My four legs become six when your
spoiled bones and blackened hearts
grow weary.
Stilted fractures wax like leprosy
within your fumbled thoughts -
seeking respite as you recount
negligent actions upon broken fingers.
Father was a saw
and cut out his tongue.
Mother was an awl
boring through his visibility.
Ignorance sanded his face.
Blind eyes rendered him mute and
useless, like a comb without teeth
or a song-less linnet bird.
I am a piece of furniture.
A curio cabinet
curiously displaying your mistrust.
An end table advertising no family portraits.
An ottoman whose cushions knead
the detestation clinging like muck upon
the backsides of chafed ankles.
I am:
Father's severed chainsaw.
Mother's twisted liquor cap.
Sister's crumpled gum wrapper.
Brother's fleshtone punching bag.
I am a chair.
I serve a purpose - but not for you.
A chair can be slip-covered, polished,
straddled and veneered.
A child cannot.
I am most content when six legs
morph back into four.
Exuberant,
I then know my
private existence can breathe -
and the hardened antecedents
who took advantage
of my open arms and inviting lap
have grievingly walked away.
From a faithful heart a world torn apart, from a battered
mind two taken from time.
A heavy heart you touched my soul though to me you
were not know but, in this senseless violence there is comfort
because to Heaven you have flown.
When I think of this wildness I can’t help but be filled with so much
anger, I lay my face in my hands and cry for your terror.
A million antecedents, your heart must have been huge; or did he
ingrain in your mind something that wasn’t true?
For love or something, you endured and paid the ultimate sacrifice,
so let’s never forget Teresita and Rachel, ironically they showed us
how to save a life.
From a faithful heart a world torn apart, from a battered
mind two taken from time.
(Victims of family violence taken from the world)
'Twas a dark and stormy night! (OK! So I'm being a tad histrionic!)
The Earl of Pence was lounging by the fire sipping his gin and tonic.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared sending shivers down his spine!
Even his hound, Lord Percival, was so upset that he began to whine!
'Twas well-known thereabouts that phantoms haunted the earl's castle,
And on such frightful nights they were bound to cause spooky hassle!
Nefarious deeds had occurred within Penceford Castle walls in the past,
And were replayed in 'spirited' form leaving generations of earls aghast!
A shriek from the bowels of the castle sent the dog into howling fits,
And brought the earl bounding to his feet, scaring him out of his wits!
The blood-curdling screams were from a former Earl of Pence who in 1642,
Was hung by this thumbs in the dungeon for a fair maiden that he slew!
Suddenly, the ancient organ in the hall began playing eerie chords.
Heard on the floor above was rowdy dancing by ladies, knights and lords!
Ghastly emanations from the past paraded through the terrified earl's room,
Antecedents all, leering and grinning predicting the anxious earl's doom!
Lord Percival sensing trouble long before for the door had bolted!
The storm subsided and the apparitions faded leaving the earl quite jolted!
The earl felt a bony hand upon his shoulder that took away his final breath.
'Twas his valet who offered a gin and tonic to the earl who now lay in death!
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "One Night in A Haunted Manor" Contest
(8 January 2019)
Carried by the storks of autumn,
furried charges scattered 'round;
buried by the squirrels that brought 'em
underneath the leaf strewn ground.
The antecedents tall and stately
reach as if to praise the clouds
as leaves like feathers drop sedately -
their fingers stitch a quilted shroud.
Brothers-sisters, hither-yon;
the embryos, both nature's feast
and children of a spring day dawn.
While through Earth's breast their roots release
to start anew a truth foretold,
new life will sprout among the old.
written April 14, 2020
inspired by John Lawless's Last Acorn contest (not entered)
(mixed meter)
Dream-Blisters
by Odin Roark
“…Like the glow of star-dispelling lights
rising,
saturating air
from 5th Ave
to Trump Towers,
to the Bronx,
atop the bridges glinting brazen shouts.
“Hurt and pain guised as success,
a purulent throb of discharge,
woulda
coulda
shoulda
now,
like always,
decorative wounds,
cover-ups
flung high over and through,
settling seasonally in Pennsylvania
2nd homes, where farm animals
gaze from fields
at repeated history,
learned celebration,
attainment’s price.
“So it goes.
“Rising,
spreading,
oozing dream-blisters,
festering from forever frictions.
Id and ego,
smooth and calloused,
reduced to screams and laughter.
"Have and have not antecedents
surviving now as virus,
knowing not of antidote,
immunity prevention
long ago ignored for addiction.”
“Why is that Mother?”
“Like the book says, sweetheart…
see here the illustration
barnyard animal-looking humans
all dressed in party finery
wondering what
to do now.”
“Why are they wondering?”
“Mr. Orwell told the story long ago.
Another writer addressed it again
a bit different,
but with the same warning."
“Is that what they’re wondering about…warning?”
“Yes, dear.”
She caresses her daughter’s forehead
“Some things take a long time to learn.”
“But we do learn them…right?”
“Sleep warm, daughter.”
A hierarchy of antecedents
an inverted pyramid or
joy that precedes heart break
and well wishes
tears that cascade after facts
and unchecked plane tickets
sentiments divulged, rearranged, displayed
like an Muslim at inquisition
Scientist's solution burning
on a Bunson burn
making sense of what had happened
Was. Experiments and
Pyramids worn down to their skeletal
interior rooms and burial chambers
How did we arrive in this dead place?
Ditto, of course.
Batting away bits of silica
during sandstorms
Protecting the inevitable
We cry, out lips quivering
with Kleenex in hand
manage to voice our opinions
with scattered hesitation
inhale and outbursts
We will prevail...
The sum of our greatest parts are nothing more
the secrets told without witnesses.
Results. Answers. Regrets
and courtroom Sustains
those wanted advances
in unwanted fashion
slip through embroidered lace
a stenciled moment as
lips softly quiver with an inserted name
fill this blank space
with repeated fashion
we are the final product of
Biblical conclusions
Stone pyramids sinking into
Egyptian dusk.
Precede down the river lust
obstructed by “In God we trust”
We are slaves to ourselves
the builders of nonetrenal things
Sold on an idea
with white picket fences
and when paint wears away
replaced by golden entryway
The problem with sight
it sees no illusions
If money is the root
why keep planting it?
A solitary Life
When birds return
To their destination
After the day’s exertion
Before darkness befall
They have a lot of antecedents
To exchange, express and listen,
To see and show
And to bear and embalm
Which they exchange
With their keens
Before sleep casts its slumber
But desire of coaxing and rumination
Remains embedded
Within the boundary of heart
When a bird use to lead
A solitary life
It preserves all the happenings
Whatever it hands on
During daily experiences
In the sleepy aspiration
Of a day
When through the stairs of rainbow
Would step down to join
One more life
This is how does it differ, my dear
That is your life
This is my life.
EVE
Never say “I don’t love you”
When you just mean give me space
Because it hurts me so much
Like a dagger in my heart
Never Say “”I don’t care”
When you just mean you hate it
Because I need to know,
Promise I’ll never do it again
Never say I Miss you
When you are far
The fact is
I want to be exactly where you are
Never say “Come here”
When you just mean, prove my love
Because if I fail, I can’t blame distance
Men are comprises of peculiar elements
Our mind is the abode for knowledge
That holds the truth and the lies
Our mind is the residence of our will and desire
We don’t like to be fool
Because we don’t play with feelings
We fall in love but hate to be dictated
We have our own plans and tactics
And we don’t stop until we reach success
We don’t lie when
We hide ourselves beyond what you see
Or discloses the antecedents of our past relationships
We just hate remembering heartaches
Cause we are also the casualty of failures
We maybe objective
And could become ruthless
But touch us once and we will gradually melts
You can name our nature
Beastly
Brutal
Evil and
Divine
You can call us everything that you wanted
But I tell you honey
That the realms of our nature
Is tamed with your passion
That behind our glory is your love
That the truth of our being
Is your existence
That the vows that you committed
Is the life that we long to live…
How sweet it
would have been,
the nectar's of my divine,
the room of my
reminiscence
full of solemnized,
I adore thee,
chaste in my thoughts,
never ending,
never ceasing my
sanquineus,
Banquets dining a
thirsting appetite,
for wine,
vitalizing the limits.
My thoughts infatuation
Of your presence,
is the room,
a leap of my restrains
follow by your visage.
And in solid grounds
I still deluge myself,
it is never too divine,
never too allure the glance
of our antecedents
©ElenaToledo2009
How sweet it
would have been,
the nectar’s of my divine,
the room of my
reminiscence
full of solemnized.
I adore thee,
chaste in my thoughts,
never ending,
never ceasing my
sanguineus.
Banquets dining a
thirsting appetite,
for wine,
vitalizing the limits.
My thoughts infatuation
of your presence,
is the room,
a leap of my restrains
follow by your visage.
And in solid grounds
I still deluge myself,
it is never too divine,
never too allure the glance
of our antecedents.
i need to stop frowning and epitomizing
and sell this Caddy to the Cardinal
trying to let it miss your attention won't fly
since writing is speech even if somewhat removed
or fit only for bouncy news anchor banter
pancake makeup a bit too aflame
like they do in shadow theater
where the container is the contained
because we can still index the cornucopia
eff you said the furry little May Pole Bunny
you can be sure he was in on it too
along with the Hen in the Willow
the Great Flaming Spiral in the Sky
and the nuns of St. Manacle
doing their Plantation Rebel Dance
with cascade of equally herkimer antecedents
perpetually enthused with the mystery of tomorrow
just don't try to tell me how to move my eyelids
smoke signals will always take care of that
cascading across the clacking copper contacts
in a total lack of continuity all at once
it is a pigeon tongue spoken in barter
barely able to walk after the derision of linguists
lobbed horseshoes across the barricades
against surgeons wielding kitchen knives
on a search and destroy mission
for chopped liver epicures from the Bank of Winter
living dead men's dreams was no picnic
memes eating my soul like red worms
only my degree from the School for the Sickly
standing between me and the Necromancers
who were emphatically not house trained
my collective unconscious operation manual
tossed on the burn pile half a life ago
now dumbed down to syntactically correct
in infinitesimal quantities with a Nefertiti smile
my mind a bordello of interpretation
God is not dead he is passe etc.
a raised by wolves feral non-conformist
everything orbits everything else
and that's space for you
which will bend yer crank kid
unless you can get your mood to swing
out from the nether realms of mourning
and the agony of oblique signals
written with the ***** of Satan
shaking money from your pockets again
a Conniving Backstabbing Bastard production
he hated coercion like he hated licorice
he was revolution incarnate all fresh and rosy
it was a kosher Pentecost event
tried quoting Lenin but it was too easy
the proletariat is people in a pickle
the dueling cucumbers of class warfare
now I'm on a dozen watch lists
followed by Diana's paparazzi
to this claustrophobic cinemaplex
and its temporal artery of light
at 3 in the afternoon
a good cheap remedy
following a bad diagnosis
Hosting a bash, the belly butterflies flutter,
From the thought of you, I melt like butter.
Strong willed, outspoken unless my affection,
My retreat if ever eyes should meet in your direction.
To reveal what I feel, I stand petrified from the fall.
Like a forest, too timid to hear the Timber call.
Heart trapped in the middle of social and destiny game,
Yet, I'm the only one between the two of them to blame.
Past romance all perishable love precedents,
But why should you get blamed from prior antecedents?
Temperature upsurge from feasible pleas able passion merge.
ANTECEDENTS
espoused
in
intense
authentic
hegomony
surrounded
overwhelmed
in
solemnity
survivial
an
aftermath
retracts
to scare
but
the
individual.
little changed
remains
inordinately
heroic
anguish
&
affliction
unresolved
in
flavour
knowing
the
ill fated
supposedly
narrower
setting
lies
in
improbality
Night,the 1st poem
Love,the 1st Song
Child,the 1st miracle
Rebirth,the 1st Dawn
Without antecedents
This matrimony of Souls and Time