Best Appraise Poems
July 29, 1890
Colored daubs and swatches
crave artist’s practiced hand.
Justice, nearly blind, yet watches—
unwrought art upon a stand.
Regard the brushes in a row—
the palettes and the sponges.
Genius maimed by status quo,
vain a hope that fate expunges.
Guttered myriad lifelong dreams—
in desperate ruination.
Fading now the piteous screams
of self-inflicted termination.
Time Passes
Abruptly then adoring praise—
contrived their sudden expertise.
Rude cabal who would appraise—
byzantine their guileful sleaze.
Each masterpiece a servant
of craven yearn and greed.
Bang the gavel, swift and fervent;
sate purveyors’ inveterate need.
Justice now is truly blind;
vanished those She would impute.
His final piece is left unsigned;
and undisclosed, for now She’s mute.
4th Place: I Love Rock and Roll
Inspired by Don McLean's song, Starry Starry Night
One day I decided to aggregate what I own
Realizing soon enough I couldn't count it all,
Though I never thought I had all that much
What I had was oddly beyond simple math.
Determined I was to know what I'm worth
And I knew the formula for how that works
So I added all assets and deducted liabilities
Yet, never could I derive the right answer.
My assets were tangible, so easy to add up
But when I thought of lives I had touched
And receipt of generosity they bestowed,
I could not appraise the value of their love.
Swiftly I subtracted what I owed to others
Feeling proud of self for I didn't owe much
Till I took account of much that was given
Not expecting from me anything in return.
When I finally accepted futility of my effort
My worth resembled faces of my loved ones,
Not susceptible to any numeric computation
Well beyond the bounds of ordinary cognition.
January 3, 2019
Placed 2nd in Food for thought poetry contest by Silent One
Spring
A refresh of rain, falling down on them all
Un-quenching each leaf with tilt refrain
Linden shaped blossoms in spring do install
Such beautiful heaven that no one can maim
The burst of an orange, a tulip in bloom
Infusion of flowers, by meadow's festoon
The shine of an orchid, ever so stark,
It stays on my mind, long after dark
The Rose brings her beauty, as I swift appraise
And summer goes trailing with fever, her blaze
Summer
Heat waves arrive, wearing red flaming scarves
Bronzed cherub angels, by cool fountain spout
Yellow kissed flowers by summer's head count
The dahlias in love, with passions, don't starve
Bikinis and tank tops with summer tanned legs
Atop the hot board walk, skip trampling keds
Bleach blonds and ravens in tune with the fair
Coasters and bolsters and times without care
It's all in the season of sunshine and thrills
Where fireworks burst, o'er emerald hills!
Autumn
The seasons pass as my eyes behold
Soft change in hues when bending limbs grow bare
As colored leaves turn brown begin to fold
To finally scatter into Autumn's air
These days remembered on a road of leaves
Traveling aspen groves ablaze in gold
A Winter's chill before the Autumn grieves
Reminds that all life ends before its cold
And calls in voice its yearly subtle dance
As songs from birds now give a quiet note
While those in love hope colors will enhance
To feel chill from Winter when color dies
To bless the fallen leaves with sadder eyes
Winter
The Winter's cold comes dressed in velvet white
And spills its unique flakes upon the Earth
Scenes of beauty calm, open eye's delight
And cleanse the ground before the Spring's rebirth
I'll walk upon the freshest fallen snow
And see the trail of prints I leave behind
While knowing it reveals the path I go
I'll make a snowy Angel some will find
To cross the banks of white where depth is low
And sit among the quiet, Winter's brought
To see the landscape clean with softest glow
Shall bring to me another gentle thought
I'll lift my eyes to find a pictured scene
And marvel at the white that is pristine
written by Mystic Rose & Frederic Parker
9/20/14
August 5 Scripture Meditations Based on Jeremiah 46-52
Key Verse – Jeremiah 47:6 O thou sword of the LORD, how long will it be ere thou be quiet? put up thyself into thy scabbard, rest, and be still.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR QUIETING ME
Thank You for quieting me from restlessness
Due to sinfulness’ oppressiveness
As you reprove my soul against selflessness
By Your loving kindness.
Thank You for quieting me from anxiety
Due to transgressions’ enmity
As you check my heart against vanity
By Your gracious authority.
Thank You for quieting me from destruction
Due to abominations’ corruption
As you increase my faith against obstruction
By Your powerful redemption.
Thank You for quieting me from idolatry
Due to pride’s entry
As you rebuke my fear against valor in stewardship infantry
By Your biblical ministry.
Thank You for quieting me from indolence
Due to sluggardness’ prevalence
As you discipline my attitude against insolence
By Your righteous opulence.
Thank You for quieting me from hypocrisy
Due to contentment’s deficiency
As you mold my character against inconsistency
By Your tender mercy.
Thank You for quieting me from detriment
Due to worldliness’ involvement
As you appraise my commitment against shallow engagement
By Your eternal investment.
August 5, 2022
An entity of beauty the essence of my kind
I respond with beats and thoroughly empathise.
Love and faith, food for my soul
ablaze with intense fire is my whole.
Distinctive scents trace my sprightly steps
exultant roses recognized in depths.
Tough and thorny is my very land
my heart touched by the divine God's Hand.
With wondrous souls my words amaze
their light on my path of life I appraise.
Myself, my heart, human defined
to win a soul I pick the gems I find.
Nameless, undefined what is hidden inside
carefully concealed from a flaming mind.
Fate walks off with one precious jewel
a mysterious strength arises ready to rule.
A woman on a journey of intuitive capability
dips her pen into the world of words to honour Humanity.
August 1st, 2018
My mistress muse
With the simple daily routine there mingles some fire,
a sensuous voluptuous sort of a desire.
A temptress of untouchable allure is in my mind,
a voluptuous sensuous sort of kind.
She teases me with smiling allure and gives me that look,
I feel mostly very gobbledygook.
I should find some comparable understanding,
but she is in a pleasing way very commanding.
Compelling my imagination very much,
with this promising dreaming touch.
Never losing her gesture and pose,
especially when the moon is in full repose.
My cogitation about her is an endless amaze,
she seem to take this as loving appraise.
Often she seduces me just before sleep,
taken those frantic motion deep into my dream to reap.
the voice of my muse is very critical,
take whatever she says biblical.
Sometimes I cannot take my troubled mind, here or there,
finding the only refuge with her, I swear.
Inured sometimes by this delicate beautiful fantasy,
that I wonder about my insanity.
Some hours more deeply then other hours before,
other times, I have to socialize to see her no more.
The shrink told me it’s a schizophrenic marriage,
and the psychic said it is a divine message.
But I give my intuition some gratitude,
then it gives my writing far more altitude.
Yes, I miss the healing touch of a female caressing,
it comes with more, then just that blessing.
O loving muse existence, you loosing eye lure,
the love in the dream maker maze is another wondering shore.
How fearlessly some charge into lust’s fervent flames,
Though they may burn to ashes and dust in those flames.
Oh, but the lengths to which lovers willingly go
Cursed by Eros sweet madness they must dance in flames.
Each day and each night craving that special delight
No matter if all else may soon burst into flames.
How he smolders and burns with passion to ignite
Her, know the fragrance of her sweet musk in his flames.
How she yearns for his arms holding her close to him
And the sound of their heartbeats at dusk in her flames.
Secret rendezvous, quiet chambers, their furnace,
With only each other’s charms to trust in those flames.
Sol sinks his mighty fire slowly into the sea
And their deep embrace is shadowed just as those flames.
In that furnace where they meet at last, both ablaze,
They exhaust and satiate with each thrust into flames.
It may be that one may appraise them with caution
And warn that they will burn in the gusts of loves flames.
But do they hold themselves in regret or wounded,
Spent, from tumultuous hours at dusk in those flames?
Carnal pleasures in life they have known, to be sure,
May be far better than being a husk in the flames.
Across the skies as meteors flare, so briefly,
All of us come to ashes and dust in such flames.
So alas, although I may be Theophilus†
I too succumb to the fires of lust, lost in flames.
†Theophilus is a mystery figure in the New Testament. Among many different views it is considered an honorary (academic) title. In Greek “theophilos” means “friend of God” or (be)loved by God” or “loving God”. [Source: www.wikipedia.org.]
i could sit here. day in and day out
thinking of the most proper way
to let the ink in the pen spill out
but as of late im feeling prehistoric
so much weight on my shoulders
and i dont know where to go
resuscitate my soul
look back up and head to the goal
so much evil around. i feel like the devils workin double shifts just to bring me down.
on the road to redemption
you can take a seat up in the front section
just so you can feel the emotions
in this electric notion
i've done a lot of things that hide the halo
let it all collaborate when i medicate
now look at me, mind workin like plato
formulate a new path to take so i can
maneuver through all the mistakes
we all know we cant change what we've already made
but we can change the next thing we create
startin to sound like a serenity prayer
5 steps till im thirty
and the twenty four before i was never a player
found out when the lights came back on im strictly a lover
its the strongest drink for your soul, when its thirsty
so careful how much you intake or be left hungover
even worse be the one she ran over
i dont mean to come off like im too deep
but the obstacles made there way through just to scrape through
and leave me suffocating
just for me to re-invent a new way to breathe, re-decorating
is your life so complicated
you rather wet up your pillows and revoke from the life you live
just think of your kids mourning
theyll never see that pretty face in the morning any more
cheer your self up
you got a lot to live for
your a gem and im that friend
trynna appraise the value
that you dont see inside of you
just another day for him
goin about
searchin wonderin what his purpose is
running in circles
till he found a way through all the turbulence
I am not looking you ,
In to your eyes ,
But through them ,
Acknowledging the sorrow you are hiding ,
Providing an estimate strength for your fighting.
It is a grief that is shutting down the sunshine of your life ,
It is a wound that is caused by the shedding tears of a despaired knife.
Accelerate the courage that you must gain ,
To land you a hand in overcoming the vain.
Open your heart wider ,
Become an example of an objective finder.
We all are still under the same sky ,
The sun rises for us all equally ,
Make our faith to vividly fly.
Ups and downs we all have it ,
The point is to appraise our attitude ,
In both of them as we need it.
Blooming before us, like dandelions sprouting in the spring.
Rising above and beyond, invisible during the day,
Guardians at night.
Dangling up high as if it were puppets.
So close, mountains could give a kiss away.
The Stars dance and wiggle, as if putting on a play.
Clouds form a dark, grey, thunderstorm,
Clapping and roaring vividly, like an applause.
The wind glides along in appraise.
The moon shivers and squirms, it smiles upon the stars.
A shooting star evolves,
Leaving a trail of the dreams that sparkle in the dust.
Feeling pure joy, the
Moon erupts into a wall of tears.
Water breaks the bond of the dreams attached to the star,
It slowly sinks down into the homes, in the rooms,
Into the minds, of the beholder.
It has now lost its dreams.
The sun is rising, and the star at once must become invisible,
It now must start over and watch from above like a hawk.
It now must watch the lives of everyday people,
And become one with the beholder.
It now must take dreams and guard them with its life.
It now must take on its duty as a Dream-Catcher.
Over and Over
Over and over when I am near an ocean
My mind becomes full of love and devotion
For sailors on ships who served and died
Comrades rest on ocean floor and do abide.
What I want to do each and every day
Is on an ocean beach shore begin to pray
About memories that are there for me
Of dead sailors souls which were set free.
Often, several times and again and again
Will think of the women as well as men
Giving lives so that victory may be met
For freedom on ocean as sun doth set.
On vast expanse of ocean new days begin
And many places on it we have all been
Maybe happy or with things hard to bear
Knowing our omnipotent Lord is there.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
This poem is to be entered into a poetry
contest in May regarding the subject of
OCEAN. Need your helps along with
comments and suggestions. You can
either make comments here or send me
an email via Poetry Soup or to my personal
email address at: jthorn5656@gmail.com
Iyase, Some great comments and concepts. My father died in an accident while on board the Aircraft Carrier CVA-11 on night of August 6th, 1956. No one ever knew
what happened. He was missing for 23 days in the Mediterranean Sea and his remains were found on the shore of the Island of Sicily. His body was buried at sea off the Island of Sicily in 200 feet of water. Services for him were conducted aboard the ship. His body
was identified by laundry markings. It was determined that both his neck and hip had been broken. He fell 80 feet to his death. He was last seen at 10 PM that night. A Naval Officer came tour door at home and notified us of his death. Another service was performed at the local Navy chapel located on Norfolk Operation Base (NOB), Virginia.
Just wanted to give you an idea of all that had happened. I was 15 on June 26th, 1956
and had three younger sisters and two younger brothers. I was constantly in search of a father figure all of my life. Being that you took the time to appraise my poem, thought that you deserved this explanation. Many poems are related to specific incidents and happenings.
Best Regards,
James Thomas Horn
Oh Sweet Island! Thou tropical paradise:
Miles have I traced upon thy ceaseless reach
Of ocean-choked shorelines owed Heav’nly device
Sheltering I, this marooned guest on thine endless beach.
Safe House against left alone misery;
Whereby, alongside thine evergreen canopies full
Darwinian mysteries perched high atop their home,
Do I maintain nourished in flesh ‘n faculty
And keep this wit sharpened when blunted dull
Should become elements awash reduced but to roam;
Added all, all for sake of thine increased covenance,
That keener my eyes and keener my tongue
When my throat succumbs thine euphoric abundance;
Pink spilled over warmth -
Else-wise myself, by self, selfishly by now would’ve hung;
For if not for that which is thy sun (may thy sun also hear praise)
My sight might yet be withheld those rare flockish friends
Who keep in time the shared sweetness of functioning words;
Therefore to thee, and to they of thee, whom of wing’ed realm I appraise
As reason unsought are frenzied neurotic ends;
True thanks directed thee and thy mystic splendors; thy talking birds.
Alas, sadly, not even thou distills lunar ascensions
By which subside hopeful rays in thy sobering night;
Nor be those which aviate above as homing pigeons
With beaks to carry silent pleas where may come ends to my plight.
Thus, this I ask thee; What good is time spent when time’s spent alone?
Yes, thou provides: plentiful shelter, plentiful warmth, plentiful food
As well as fiery fuel to fend off critters of strife –
But, this be thy kingdom, not mine. Here, I sit on a remembered throne
Where days threaten months threatened by years in which strangers brood –
Oh, Sweet Warden; Relinquish me! I beg thee on behalf of slipping sanity;
Let this rambling sentence end
So I, once again, may stand by my daughter and wife.
1/28/2017
Submitted for: Tropical Island
Angifi Dladla
BAYEDE
Bayede , Son of man, Bayede!
You who outsmart the invisible God of our ancestors,
You who perfect the creations of the One-Who-Cannot-Be-
Imagined.
Modernizer of flying dragons that drop eggs down on cities –
They whose eggs hatch bouncing chicks, enveloped in
clouds with no linings.
O Inventor of plague-like rain and diseases,
What a mutagen of nature you are!
Bayede, Son of man, Bayede!
With lashes and nails, Jesu surrendered to your cross,
With a red stroke, sons of heaven rot to die in your jails,
With omission and neglect, sages die muzzled and
forgotten.
Yes! You appraise absolute truth and belittle the God of our
ancestors.
Yes! You sentence God to eternity in your prisons.
What a demystifier of God you are!
Bayede, dredge of ocean and land marrow, Bayede!
You who imprison nature and charge for entrance,
You who farm waste to fertilize the sky and the soil and the
waters,
You who crack cells and sells us mutants for cyborgs.
Colonizer of oceans, You’ll soon reside under the ocean,
Colonizer of space, You’ll soon drill the Moon and Mars,
Build supermaxes and nuthouses up there.
Yes! as God-shrike, You’ll lynch angels and the sons of
heaven up there, yes!
But look, O youngest brother of Mu, just look:
We are on the brink of taking a Cosmic Route.
Look, O man who inherited breast milk from Atlantis,
O, no-no, don’t borrow Madam Lot’s eyes.
Look, and listen to your heart: The voice within
is the call of the Cosmic Brotherhood!
Warm sensations of thermals rising, wings of prey
effortlessly floating, dancing with glee
bald eagles souring diving for there prey
scurrying small prey postponing there stay
ominous murky waters creeping with rise with no delay
white men driving white Chevy trucks survey, appraise
up river waters high still climbing in dismay
pioneer earthen levee's resolute and staid
organizing sand bags with volunteers, portrays
hoping low's to surrender for sun filled high's to stay
awaiting for tide to shrink the bay's
serene, peaceful flow of smooth tranquil swirling too the Sea.
NO FUN IN THE SUN
Ocean
notion !
Swimsuit
pursuit
Beach wear
despair !
Avail
a sale
Appraise
the maze
Undress
distress
Critique'
is bleak
Frumpy
bumpy
Designed
maligned
Too small
too tall
Too slim
Too grim
Belly
jelly
Suppress
excess
Behind
unkind
From rear
Some tears
The thighs
the sighs
Brutal
futile!!
Buy none
Bye fun !!
No sun
No fun !!
Beached whale
Bleached, pale !! :(
_______________________________
6/8/15 For Five Fabulous Footles Contest
Sponsored by Jan Allison