Best Ascertained Poems
Dragon went to the mailbox this morn,
And he came excitedly flying back, yes, toward the house…
So Now, you should… be doubly, doubly, doubly forewarned.
Yep! Now, you GOTTA know… We’re in for a LOT of ensuing chaos!
Yes, He had a letter addressed to him…
With a smile on his face and a letter in his hand…
And what, you ask, had him wearing, such bubbly, bubbly, bubbly grin?
He’s going, this year, to the Fireman Competition, and held the invite so grand!
By Now, you must know, such excitement, so fine…
As usual, made his fire to run, run, run… onto the letter in hand…
And that Date, and the Time? You know, that fire? Well… never mind!
Thought this would slow Dragon? No way! He’s ready, now, for that Laurel Strand.
He flew to the Firehouse, lickety- split…
Crashing into the fire truck, giving it a broken axel and 4 tires flat, flat, flat!
Leaving his head, stuck, solidly, through the window, into the trucks cockpit…
Fortunately, out ran the fire chief, to organize the rescue, of our little dingbat…
When NOTHING ELSE would work, all the firemen…
Put their feet on the door, grabbing Dragon, and they pulled, pulled, pulled!
Finally, it took old Grandpa Troll to pull his head out, by taking the door off…
And then breaking the door apart! My! What a day, I must say, THIS had been!
Then next week’s competition was explained…
As a Charity Event to enhance and outfit their old faithful fire truck!
Now a little rescue practice will never, never, ever… it’s ascertained…
Ever be turned down! And Oh My! And Oh Well! What’s that truck worth?
That is… compared to our klutzy, little clown…
Grandpa Troll donated repairs as Dragon worked it off, day after day, after day.
My Moral is: If great you will be, then mistakes will be made along the way…
As you walk to your destiny, don’t despair; just keep going to your brighter days…
Written By Carol Eastman 5-19-2016
You see I've been misunderstood majority of my life
Its as though if living were war
then im the knife
Its not my fault society embraces suicide
Label me an aspiring mathematician
Cuz I have nothing to hide
but a simple substance I provide
for an affordable price
my life is nicked and dimed into a dynasty of ghetto capital
my product derived of natural organic matter
strategically cut and cooked for a simple way to provide
that get away you're after boo
Damage is collateral
See while you chase starts
I chase the dollars that make them
See I defy God and for a few
I can make you invincible
destroying your principles
Cuz ile have you feining for that next high
that next mucus mixture
with the snort of that booger sugar
Excess caked up til inhaled to the brain
that mental bugaloo
Cut into rocks of instacourage
for you weak pawns on a chessboard
checkmated before you had the chance
to advance to enemy territory
You've destroyed yourself
As I enjoy my wealth
Now whos the loser
When you look yourself in the mirror
and realized you've ascertained a habit you cant break
developed a hunger for a superficial utopia you cant make
You are
So as a businessman my product and I are one
but never mingle
So while you dibble and dabble with the snow
I create blizzards
Are you prepared for the cold cold life ahead of you
If im caught is federal
But you're worth the effort
Im just simply the man that makes the offer
And its crazy cuz when the streets were hot
and my product was mixed with soda pop
it was a shoulder shrug
Now I gotta hide my product
discreet with my customers
or metal bracelets will give my wrist
a colder hug
Load the slug
and aim it at your cranium
this is a ride youll die for
Literally speaking
No pun intended
It was more of a visual sentence
Destroy thine own brother in abject apathy
taking up arms 'midst conquering expectancy,
invoking howls of contemptible thunder
neath skies' transparency beyond trepidation,
battles' plundering captures naught of stability
nor intervention from otherworldly gods
predisposed towards earthly universal unity,
persecuting soil's divinity neath aggregate exploits
incalculable hunger upon grounds' domination,
tears were purged in the name of unholy ascendancy
deliver us from susceptible evil men chanting war cries,
congregated in humanity's blood spoils on fire
hailing flared atomic detonations' nuclear nightmare
Trumped midst castle's undeniably delusional rhetoric
Ultimately ascertained, entities' faith shall resoundingly be diminished
casting down divine dispensation bestowed pon the wrath of mankind
An Angel, came in human form.
Arrived at my house about noon.
I knew he had a spirit, for he was
past any norm.
And my keen, mystical soul, was
right with him in tune.
We chatted for just a bit...
The uniqueness of his spirit showed.
I did not want him to ever leave
or quit.
For as I ascertained, I was in a most
heavenly zone.
Suddenly, I looked down, and the startled
to see the that Angel had but one leg!
It quite startled me, greatly because he
had such great agility.
I was at a loss for words when he told me
he was more than grateful?
To say that I was astonished, is to meet him
goes beyond anything fateful.
He was perhaps but twenty-five, at most,
I gathered as he related.
A great wife and two children and
seeking a job was he, which all three
he celebrated.
The story goes a drunk driver, ten years ago
hit him and there went his leg.
But to him, it was a night with gratitude
he celebrated.
He made me look at my life here
at the Soup.
I should be grateful and elated!
But my ego crushes me, with few
comments I feel diminished, and
yes deflated.
Now here was an Angel, who told
me, he ran obstacle courses
around the world!!
And here I was, thinking at Poetry
Soup feeling all deflated.
He stood with one leg in contrast
like a magnificent,glowing emerald!
I never came here to be famous
or seeking any poetic glory.
It took an Angel with but one leg,
To remind me to stop sniveling and
groaning.
To seek to give, not have others listen
to my insipid, selfish moanings.
September 3, 2020
5:30am PST
* Requestiing positive responses, no
discussion on drinking, please*
As stories go
So do souls
They wonder then grow
As cold as snow
Or as fever ant as ice
Men are not mice
In fields of golden wheat; grain
Lost with out; insane
Forgetting all that was; ingrained
Living souls in stores
Forgetting their chores
They become the board
Life swings back and forth
Mistrust; faith out sourced
Flesh awaiting to be scorched
Saviour's a many, but never a one
Living beneath the threat of a gun
Time awaiting to be undone
Dear old Abe that Faithful one
His brother ascertained, then defamed
He was Cain, not thy brother's keeper
But an evil creeper
A vine unfit to be tied
Entangled a web which he is bound
Truly wrapped and then leather bound
Blacken and read; were the words
The Word; bled the color of red
This fabled prince, our lord
Three score and some
Defeated seven thousand and one
And still some will be lost
Torched along with the moss
For the fable was not Able
To save any one
A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man
A curse. It's what she was ascertained to be.
A plague which has been put on the burden of the residents of the world.
People discarded her as mere trash for they considered her as an ill-omen.
Misfortune embraced her when she didn't even know the real meaning of life.
God called her parents to his abode and left her with an odious, monstrous scar which blemished her chalky, innocent, baby-like face.
What was her fault in all that?
No one can obstruct God's Will.
Her scar hindered her joy, her happiness.
She was a mere victim of fate.
Left desolated, isolated up to no good, where no one was here to even ask her about food, where she spent sleepless nights hoping that someone will come to sing her a lullaby.
Longing for a melody, tired of being lonely, wishing that there will be someone, somewhere who will care about her, about her desires, her dreams , her wishes, her hopes.
Left in the darkness where she could not even see her own shadows, where it was even more painful to face the life, when survival has been a desire charred in the fire with wistful hopes.
She lingered, hovered as she cried over days and nights when her tears became colorless like diamond dust but who stained her clothes like thick crimson red blood.
The little lady waited for long in certainty that God is here, he exists, he'll help her.
Nevertheless, these dreams of hers were suffused by the dust that time left on its way.
Loneliness monopolized her life as it ruled over her and even bleaks of light was altered into ashes as it hit it.
Survival was solace for her, which seemed to be hardly an oblivion.
It then came when a cherub entered her life filling it with lights, blue like the blue hyacinths, yellow like sunflowers, pink like lilies, red like zinnias.
She flourished amidst the white, fluffy sky as she was lifted up to the crystal clear sky.
She came out of her shadow, up to somewhere were even a slight faint ray of it was changed into creatures of light.
It was always this way at Christmas…
Does he open my gift first
Or do I pull the wrapping from his?
Will I love what he’s given me?
The only true promise of harmony
Was allowing the wrappings to be ripped off
At nearly the same time
Will I love what he’s given me?
When the gift was there, ascertained
Established as the year’s best guess of a wish
That only the wisher could truly discern
Is this gift truly a dream wish, a fantasy, a miracle
Or is it only the hidden wisdom behind kind eyes
Will I love what he’s given me?
Will either of us ever know, for certain, that our gift
Was the answer to the other’s hopeful expression?
Will either of us ever give the gift and know it is the one
That will go down in history as the “One”!!!
Will I love what he’s given me?
Then, with all thoughts of wrapping paper and bows past,
A single clear laugh from a child vibrates through the house
Ringing out the gift that will forever remain the “One”
I love what he’s given me!!!!
Written on August 28th, 2014
©2014 by Regina Riddle
A Choice Made
Driving rain darkness surrounds him now a choice has been made, now here in the thicket deep with rich fir rising to the heavens.
Why? Where? How? Questions whose answers are not yet ascertained, known only sad dialogue depicting terrible acting.
Beginnings, Endings what is the plot? Has he forgotten the lines to his own story? Life does he dare ask? Question? Been forgotten?
Madman or Charming fellow his is a journey among the sharp rocks and wild flowers, laughing yet dying on the inside beyond view.
Curious to the naked eye the viewer cannot yet determine an ending to the play called life, Reality is touched if for a moment.
Stage is lighted as the man makes his entrance from the left hand side a silence has fallen over the gathering crowd, forming.
Time has now gone to the other side of the pendulum now lines appear on once youthful face showing cracks, telling a tale of many lies.
As the clock ticks on no one is immune from her touch we all must keep in step lest be left behind, Gentleman now hopes love and sanity can save him from the maddening haze, Perhaps ?
© David Jerry Mitchell 2015
From some week
Nauseous I feel
Last month my period also ceased
I'd gone to Doctor
"You are preggy"
She congratulated me.
A sweet smile ran through my lips
Oh! I was tickled pink
But wait..
Is it any pleasantary?
I'm preggy? So funny it is.
I'm just seventeen
Having no boyfriend
Or any such relationship
Again, she checked
But this time, she was amazed
She ascertained my virginity
Also assured my pregnancy
Spiralled up from blank theory
She culminated "Miracle in my uterine cavity "
I went to the library
turned the pages of biology
Found the term Parthenogenesis
A process in which
Female egg converted into offspring
Without fertilizing it
But this was never seen in human
Maybe I'm the first one -I fathomed
It means I lost virginity in my brain
Which induces the secretion of hormone
& thus all other events made
But with whom? When? & Where?
Suddenly I saw my dreammachine
& everything got clear
That I purchased from the science fair
In which I uploaded, pics of shri Krishn
With whom I spent, my all nights in the Dream
Biologists regarded this
As Super parthenogenesis
After some months or more
I gave birth to a demigod
& my virtual husband is my lord
15March 2018
Poetry contest "Science Fiction"
Sponsored by "Deborah Guenther Beachboard"
Having not done the things I wanted to do
and the things I've done not being what I wanted to do
I sit here looking at lichen on the north side of trees.
Black-capped chickadees
cheerful and truthful expression
grouped in platoons, sharing the point.
The tribes travel together
first finches, then chickadees
following the squirrels every morning.
What luxury, abundance! Handful after handful
of grass seed thrown, into wind.
The corn ripe and the rye with it.
The other main families: pines, roses, peas,
lilies, daisies, heath, birch and oak.
Maple, honeysuckle, pink, mustard, cypress, mint, olive, buckwheat,
primrose, willow, buttercup, saxifrage, snapdragon, cactus.
Truth may be ascertained by considering
the truth we feel, the truth we're told,
the truth we reason, and the truth we've seen.
It is so good to be a chickadee.
To tell the truth cheerfully and joyfully.
In a way that makes others want to live.
Porthos Starshipbroken?
There was a dog on Enterprise
Whose smell T’Pol like to exorcise–
A beagle named Porthos,
On Capt. Archer’s bed, he would repose.
Where did Archer pick up this hound?
Did he get him from a futuristic pound
Where training was already acquired
So he would be starshipbroken as required?
It was left unexplained
And the audience never ascertained
How Archer did dispose
Of the poop from Porthos?
Would Archer find little gifts
After especially long duty shifts
From a pooch cooped in his quarter
Prompting a cleanup by transporter?
Would Porthos do like bad dogs
Leaving soft logs
On every deck
Entailing a crew shoe check?
Was the recycler used on his poo
To make it into a shoe?
Would you want to place your foot therein
Wondering what you’re stepping in?
When Archer gave cheesy snacks
Giving Porthos intestinal attacks
Who was blessed
With cleaning the mess?
Did Porthos have a litter box
Or did Archer give him hall walks?
All these questions here posed,
In Star Trek: Enterprise were not disclosed.
But lastly, there is one more complication
That I have considered with much consternation.
What really bothers me
Is where that poor dog did his wee?
Contest – Everyone Poops – Roy Jerden
07/29/15
Tic toc tic toc ticing
Round I go nowhere new
Innocent encircling
Stoical hitherto
Tic toc ta... ... Where is time?
Decoupling tic from toc
Freedom, is that a crime?
Tic dont skip He's time jock
On the wall on their wrist
Infamous tic don't miss
Low middle upper class
Reap what your parent's sows
Our birth grouped by known mass
Compounded bias grows
A zealous radical
Thought is, equality?
Real or abstractional
Freeman's dichotomy
God creates and gives breath
Best used by date stamps death
Planets orbit the sun
Also round it's axis
Constant can't be out run
Ascertained through praxis
However how bout, you?
Isn't change an option
Forge your change in hue, a
Rainbow draws[back] attraction
Like an archer, to pierce
The hearts who weary in fierce
a 1 2 3 4 is not a 1 2 1 2 nor a 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8....ok then hum....x
A house trained duck could run amok in even the most tightest fitting apron but alchemy weaving leathers are best placed on legs measuring over an acre. It is to be acclimatised to a storm pattern syndrome of striped sun on a grey background but it could also be ascertained that travelling backwards at high speed down a motorway slip road is best achieved carrying one potato, a giant melon tree, and a tricycle. For to dare is to do and to do is to drop dig dreaming dramas dramatically. And to add to such fine grammar one might also assume that a locked gate is as abhorrent as a shut and bolted door. For it is as the horse trots. As the pig whistles. And as the barn creaks. That the fine acrylics begin annual waltzing duties with the glasses of peanut juice. Great. How very marvellous that is. Is it not the hidden virtue of every acolyte that hides the hidden and haves the heaving holders? Is it to be beholden or frenetically ejected via pulsation? The sanctimonious baby sea lion is sat on a third angled throne. In deep contemplation but writing memoirs to a shoal of snowmen is often a worthwhile endeavour. Painful plant pot planting pickles. And a wonderful world wide deity in an orchestrated diagrammatic map. Oh how poignant the points of the programmable playlist playing pianos. And yet the mop moves monotonously and the cloth cleverly cleans. Fantastic news for frog shop fans at a baseball game. Ha. Now send that sponge by rail not plane. Hahaha saviours swinging speedily hahaha Astronaughts and whales balancing. Xxxxx brontosaurus Z z z z
Telephones are a useless reflection of communication as forms of forks do not require such modernity to talk. When planning waltzing with 89 peas for a show that has been advertised globally always be mindful of pods. Pods are anarchical and can cause the peas to wish to jump back into bed. Such a luxury of a green shroud. No sheets necessary in a shell. The wandering significance of a beetroot is characterised always by the remaining stain. Yet whilst clearing this essence it is wise to chant to the plant and dance in a semi circular motion. Beads baked brought baths. And bathing in reed encrusted streams can deliver a view of an alternate skyline deemed very secret. Great isn't it. The introduction of waddling pink animals equals the eradication of crop. No food. Nothing. Yet it can be ascertained that when the smoke was sailing up to the blue moon the ancestral wisdoms would allow for defences and ideas steaming from plants can be very useful. The huge bowl with a diameter of over 5000 feet now caters not for wild but for trotting uniforms. Crater cantering carnage. And carriages carry ornately dressed ladies with parasols. Wow. One cannot tame such an expanse? Put inhabitants into caged areas? Bang bang then gone. Misted views sold. Tailoring a society to adhere to a rule book dominated by two legged earth dwellers. Yet, it is with correction the problem is seen. And much land cries with the entrance of the feathered helmets and the exit of the caretakers of the mother. Sit then many caves. Many caves stood. Digging dwellings decidedly difficult. No ha to this. And no x today nor tomorrow. Subsidence silent. C s b q y colonisation *
Ashes to transcendence mid infested holy waters
naught bearing ascertained compassionate divinity,
mad puppet masters fleecing wings in lieu of
ceremoniously exorcised influential malignancy
at the right hand of almightily held hallucinations
strapped over barrels & sanctimoniously flogged,
no show of mercy notwithstanding devoted defenses,
residing within sacredly inventive corrupt corporations
embezzling enterprising riches' dutiful abstractions,
bless them Father for they woefully neglected
the word of all gods' intent and persuasions, serving
no higher purpose than to gild collective repositories
of sinfully en-massed wealth in the name of religion
and the sacrificed blood of Jesus' crucified convictions
written upon coveted covenants' ingrained biblical bluffs,
struck settling false witnesses' far-side excised stonework