Best Aspect Poems
bliss fortuitous
undoubtedly all is grace
leave the door open
10-December-2021
Hardly venture into such verse.
In her bedroom, she wrote her curse.
She despised bright pupils at Yale.
If water drops could tell their tale.
She went on long walks in the drought.
They urged her to blend in and flout.
In gray rain, she went past wan shale.
If water drops could tell their tale.
Had they fed the felled holy trees?
Her thongs sloshed in a thoughtful breeze.
Gather, freeze, pour down wet and hail.
If water drops could tell their tale.
Where had those lovely old dribs been?
which dropped sunk ships and saved Tholepin.
She found longing despite the hail.
If water drops could tell their tale.
Written: August 09, 2022
A Kyrielle about Water Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Kim Rodrigues
Checked by HMS.COM
16 Lines 8syllables each/ 4 Stanzas.
past
misty, nostalgic
retreating, missing, remembering
retrospection, memorabilia, dream, destiny
waiting, enticing, unfurling
hopeful, golden
future
_______________
August 11, 2022
Contest : Dazzling Dizzy Diamante
Sponsored by : Caren Krutsinger
By this bend
Old antique shoppe;
Sanguine ancient owner
~~~~~~~~~
Lots of what-nots
Odds and ends mix;
Awaiting departure
~~~~~~~~~
Old motifs unearthed
August edging fast;
Hermit stories
~~~~~~~~~
So much to see
Bright blossoms here;
Salute the day!
~~~~~~~~~
Sit here and wait
Sunset streaks now dim;
Light sleeps in the dark
~~~~~~~~~
Pathway passage
Road underpass;
Busy feet commute
~~~~~~~~~
Tai Chi dancers
Longevity now springs;
Grace thrills footsteps
~~~~~~~~~
Old giant rubber tree
Dazzling wonder;
Ancient forbearance
~~~~~~~~~
Loitering here
Warm sun spreading;
Morning glow styles
~~~~~~~~~
Walking hand in hand
Young couple gaze;
Dreamy wandering
~~~~~~~~~
See that aspect
Truth in deep form;
Tembusu tree glows
~~~~~~~~~
August slips away
Aware of sure charms;
Memory projects
~~~~~~~~~
Seek choice
Style poise;
Hurl voice
~~~~~~~~~
Two butterflies
Twenty-sixth storey flirt;
Profound love soars
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
26 August 2015
Singapore
A speck
with every speck therein
a bit of everything
from everywhere
combined
for one
relative
moment
Perspecktive
Date: 6/29/2019
Contest: The Universe Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
A third world city with a revolutionary aspect
The poor crouched among the estates;
for the poor, the SUN crashes to the ground!
The hum of the city,
cacophony of people,
the deafening sound of
empty stomachs;
every day the media,
paints the sinister,
aspect of the poor;
urban decay:
the violence against society,
the violence against the family,
the violence of mass incarceration,
the violence of economic sodomy;
the daily cycle,
of societal breakdown;
for the poor, the SUN
crashes to the ground!
The habitually unemployed,
the ex-con,
the moral degradation of
the sexual outcast, and
the addled mind;
homeless squatter,
a fight,
a knife,
a gun,
an overdose;
the daily death of
the designated outcast;
for the poor, the SUN
crashes to the ground!
The revolution failed,
suicide by tribulation!
Whoever has not love'd a "love" at first sight,
Will face the anguish of unrequited love with might,
His heart may wrench and cry all night,
To know, one must surrender in love or fight.
When the lover's eye starts to neglect,
Beyond a point, love itself is a terrible aspect,
Even if you cry and yell, or if you reflect,
Your pain, to those, gathers no effect,
To all who fall in love, their love is true,
And the rest of the dupes cannot see a clue,
They don't love, nor do they woo,
And lovers drunk in deep, sit pensive blue,
Love itself is a disease with no cure, a dire thing.
Heart overburdened and encumbered by sting,
In response, they humiliate and refuse to bring
Any smile to lovers who are like angels without wings.
As a result, love appears as a black fire.
The more you fall, the deeper you sink into the mire.
My anguish will follow you until you die.
For every sigh or breath until you cry.
Written By
Muhammad Shahid Hussain ©
14-Dec-2015
Near the beach, during the dusk
I was feeling intense in thinking husk
What went wrong?
Thinking along
The very aspect of the solitude
For the change of her attitude
That has turned the tide on me
No matter what has happened to me
I can cope with all sorts of the situations
But I regret the break up of the strong relations
I believe it might be nothing but misunderstanding
How this happened for the two of us is disappointing
When we were so close to each other
So passionate with each other
Never thought of this day
As the transfer of my way
So unfortunate
But it is too late
No chance of creating a situation
To rebuild the relation
Gradually the sun disappeared
And from that place I retired
I reckon the day brings brightness
And the night brings gloominess
Yes the course changes now and then
I need to come out of the sadistic den
Relished thoughts
remain in cheerful hearts
not ridden by storms;
they protect them always
be it pain, or be it joy:
then, can spring signify life
in some inconceivable aspect
and promises excitement
for all and each one,
not walking the extra mile
and trip on stones that annoy?
Ah, avoiding strides accomplishes none!
Do false lovers deceive
and take what's not theirs?
Do their empty promises
bring delusion or allusion...
when hastiness aggrieves
and they think it's transitive
to meditate on a substitution?
Unpleasant thoughts darken the mind,
they spread a veil of opaque certainty
across the eyes that can't see with clarity...
that one needs to achieve something grand
by discerning that spring signifies life in some inconceivable aspect,
who can assert that all seasons are unchangeable and perfect?
Dawn is upraised
Fierce in disguise--
Then you are dazed
By her rising at length—
Once you have gazed
Straight in her eyes,
Never be fazed
By her beauty and strength.
A Dual Aspect of Life
“Son do you remember your dreams…”
The old man said,
Soft spoken sullen,
Reminiscence hard on his tongue,
A man whom few have seen...
“Some have sold their dreams
For the riches of this world it seems.”
Soft spoken,
Sullen still…
“As miles turn to miles
Strings like dreams intertwine
Hold fast the endlessness,
In moments of uncanny bliss
Where perception,
Understanding, coercion
Is not just glimpsed
But beckoned forth
Surmounting reality
Pinnacle these peaks
From which pristine landscapes unfold
Cloud specks though prevailing appear distant (harmless)…”
“Son,” he said to me,
With a smirk and gleam in eye
Ghastly lazy in his directness,
“Son, do you still remember your dreams?”
Bliss continuous, grace fortuitous,
renews it’s enlivening vibration
through pathways direct or circuitous,
entwining us with all of creation,
amplifying it’s joyful sensation.
As a receptor imbibing God’s grace,
all we seek is to see Him face to face,
being consumed by a burning yearning,
to ascend then thus at His chosen pace,
resisting not magnetic heat churning.
07-February-2022
Who is like the Pied Piper
in his coat of red and gold?
Who like the minstrel
who sings away our gnawing cares
and drowns them in the rivers
that wash the green-blue sea?
Who is like the physician,
healing of plagues in Egypt land
or who is like the prophet
leading out his children bound?
Who is like the chastener
who humbles the proud and vain?
Who is like the victor
who "can cross that mighty top”?
Who is like the player
who breathed sweetly as bird at dawn
three notes upon his pipe?
Who is like the skull-capped dancer
out-dancing the dancer death?
Can we, feet-frozen, answer?
Who is like the Pied Piper
in his coat of red and gold,
whose eyes like salted flames
absorb green seas and golden shores,
who leads away his children
to a blessed promised land,
who like the sun in red and gold
dies but to rise again?
Whither he passed we do not know,
nor guess his kith and kin.
He is like Melchizedek, musician priest and king.
He is the lord of summer,
of autumn winter and spring.
C-reative
O-pus
R-ightfully
A-pplies
A-nnual
T-opic's
E-ssential
N-ote
C-onveying
I-deal
A-spect
Topic: Birthday of Cora B. Atencia (February 26)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Walk on the plantar aspect;
Yonder sole walks through life's traffic
So on these streets he walks alone;
On cobbler pathways made of stone;
Tether bound feet worn polluted soles;
Trotting marching everywhere he goes;
Step by step by step by step lonely traveler;
Trolling throughout the city he goes;
Yet now preeminence instilled solace;
The marathon a walking gatherer;
Hindsight in the back of his mind he knows;
Like in biblical times he's marching the streets of Zion;
Now still he stands he digress;
Embedded of The Souls of his feet bit so gravel;
Feet corns and bunions hurt ;
Done walked miles on this bumpy Earth;
Pathway lit lighted flows;
Marathon Man walk on, he walks alone-
On terrain this worlds track and field so graphic;
Marathon Man walk on plantar aspect;
8/26/21 ©
For A Brian Strand Rime Me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand