Best Assay Poems


Premium Member King Arthur - a Collaboration With Darren White

He is the king of words and poets alike
Assay as you may, this man you won’t smite
His armour sparkles in night or day
Defending those too meek to say

His table is round, there's room for all
There are chairs with wheels so no one will fall
He hands out bronze goblets with sparkling wine
This king of lush gardens has spine

Renowned through the kingdom, for deeds he’s done
There is no battle, he has not won
His knights are loyal to a fault
So you better beware who you assault

Lancelot and Guinevere are by his side
Uniting followers far and wide
So sit and drink with us in harmony
And enjoy food presented artfully
© White Wolf  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member A Memorial To Martin Luther King Jr

Words would fail me if I might assay
To articulate the courage of this man.
The numerous facets of his dossier
Are subject for song in a distant land.
Awakened in youth from serene dreams
By the melodious blast of Israel’s horn.
Tall standing received earth’s esteems,
Accepting God’s charge wherefore he was born.

His marble image cleaves the bluest sky,
And his halo is now a crown about his brow.
His peace of mind earth can no longer deny,
For he has now fulfilled his earthly vow.
It can only suppose with the midnight of the mind,
What may be reason’s welcome morning  star.
One day he may return even more divine,
With a holier task from God who reigns from afar.

There’s no thunder heard from Sinai’s height,
And we see no parting waves at Jordan’s bank.
We have followed no truer soldier in our darkest night,
And now are marching on bravely in file and rank.
Rolling on in faith toward the welcome dawn,
The good fight won he’s earned the honor of Moses.
Now trekking  the soul’s desert to the divine throne,
He follows God’s light up the street of yellow roses.
Form: Rhyme

Books a Resource Vi

Books are our friends hey!
Don’t throw them away;
Keeping ourselves array
So that we be at assay
With books positively lay
For scrutiny at a ballet.
They – best pals – do say:
Read lavishly and do play,
Or in bright sunshine splay.
All healthy tips; no betray,
No deceiving, no astray.
Hence be ready to little pay
And be free as that jay
And soar up in the airway
Knowledge and wisdom to flay.
Form: Monorhyme


Pursuance

I wonder the words to pen here,
Once I said you those three words
And you assayed a story thereafter.
Few letters were found brushed off
Few were found bedded with dusts
Leaving rest of the pages tore apart
Where the letters within... were lost somewhere.
 
Thenceforth I sought to pen few new stories
I found those same letters were repeated 
From the unsanded story ...
That we once secured to write together.
Yet I tried to perceive few fresh letters
ANd there I was perplexed
When those letters synonymised
The letters...those were lost somewhere
When the pages of the unsanded story were tore apart.
 
Once I tried to pen the same old story
But thence you already composed one of yours''
And thereafter I left it incomplete
Yet penning it with few scattered letters
And mindless words.
You seemed to pen yours" with melodic words
And I lamented mine,
You were blessed to revive with a new life
And I was cursed
Still searching for those letters...lost somewhere.
 
Yet I pray to be blessed with those letters
So that I can pen it again...
I just need to find out those same old letters
But here I need you 
So that I can assay the same story hereafter.

Penelope Alecknavage

Penelope Alecknavage nee perskin whose death aye assay
to comprehend, this son of the late Harriet Harris - 
   November thirteenth 2016 marked her eighty first birthday
if she still lived these last eleven years - instead met crossway
where grim reaper awaited - though my mum sought to delay
futility to accept Pyrrhic outcome - homage pep rally
   thru poetry n essay
writing, and finding cadence of words 
   helps me (with powder milk biscuits) 
   gather courageous foray
   and means to grapple with demise 
   of a loved one, and hence my gray
matter sifts thru childhoods' end, 
   where remembrance of hooray
amidst claque of chattering aunts, cousins, and uncles
   the fuzzy interplay
of Penny racing at dog speed across lawn of family home
   cordoned off via a jackstay
looms in forefront of my mind, 
   vulnerable to grief most people sad - me, oh kay,
reckons cessation of life = equalizer of sorts
   when significant person without breath doth lay
Tom foolery deft hands of motley crue prestidigitation 
   playing game versus sobbing as corpse 
   driven to graveside viz motorway,
where belief at such stark catastrophe - nay
numbness pervades next of kin survivors
   especially when passing occurs pre-holiday,
yet no matter whence one departs 
   bobbing along River Styx to unreachable quay
mourning iz broken with nary sunny and Cher full ray
to warm earth, wind and fire - seeking soul asylum, 
   trying to blink away ill logic cheap trick re: acceptance, 
   but inxs of tears for fears begs scene 2b screenplay
   not hard rocking coldplay accursed reality
   terminal illness ushers helplessness cuz part of ourselves 
   agonizingly rent asunder, which psychic tearaway 
far exceeds any physical pain, and will underlay
the immediate future, which bodes hollow 
   with the sounds of silence
   despite informing musicians or veejay
to lighten moody blue - 
   boot invariably bono fide, green day, 
   Lady gaga emitting beat,
   per the human league (plus the culture club 
   of heart felt village people affiliated with goo goo doll    
   traversing into nirvana) 
   creates clangorous discordant ringing 
   increasing nostalgia for loved one lost before yesterday!
Form: Ode

Wooded Cottage of Highwayman

Nestled deep in the tawny, drab woodland
Sedate cottage neither haughty nor grand
Sparse hovel of unassuming, itinerant brigand
Martial decor of detached highwayman starkly bland
The etched path sculpted by intemperate hand
No manicured garden on the scrubby strand
Briers and brambles errant straggler must withstand
Thatched clapboards stable his stallion firebrand
Unruly swine garnish acorns from scraggly wasteland
Buried deep in his cellar pilfered contraband



Per chance drifter did the terrain assay
And chose that toilsome, forsaken way
A spartan welcome hauteur did convey
No lodgings, accoutrements could sway
If for grace, mercy they did pray
Only a cold shoulder he did relay
If they tested his temperance and sued for trite parley
He reconnoitered their belongings through wordplay
If no net value they were beguiled to betray
Their worthless lives he did indignantly slay
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Love To Immortalise

Strong storm blew the boat until it did strand
Upon rock_ shore so very far away.
Please my gentle lover give me your hand
There is no way you would let me be prey

Row me and the boat ashore to assay
This beautiful place we will immortalise
No! we did not go down in depths to decay
Nor did guardian angel go down likewise

Didn't matter what nature will devise
Lived through shipwreck we will go down in fame
Thru this somehow we will be eternise
The whole wide world will remember my name

Now this small green isle we'll surely subdue
As our great love grows and somehow renew
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Exquisite Love Grasping Hands

The eye-to-eye association flick life away. 
Pretty natural tones ring out in my flyway 
Light, invisible hands bait me to the clay. 
It's excessively captivating of a grasp to assay.

Blissful lyrics led me to find my way to an archway. 
I heard a sublime newly birth beat straightaway. 
This soft, serene sparkle enlightens my allay. 
Light stream is drawing me closer, yet I'm splay.

Bright rays awe me as I convey a lovely hallway.  
My body, then again, lies on the chilly, acrid clay. 
It feels incredible to be released of such a weigh 
I was bare and defenseless, alike a newborn aweigh. 

Steady heartbeats draw me near my doorway.  
Once I hand up control to virtue, I can utterly inlay
Still, I'm alive, and I enjoyed doing it anyway.
I can't ponder anything when I stare at the Milky Way.


A dyed eye-to-eye correlation feature is held at bay.
Why should we fear death? Because of doomsday.
All were created by God, the sole crucial soothsay.
We are all born to die, thus is no need to yell or dismay.



1st Place contest winner.

Written: August 16, 2021

Your Best Monorhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Monorhyme

Theres a Pedophile In the House

There's A Pedophile In The House...
(ah...ah...ah...ham eye white...???)

OMG,... and he looks...
     SAY WHAT??? just like me???,...
     absolutely NO WAY!!!,
would this sensitive,
     respectful, "FAKE" veejay
quiet-natured, mindful,
     loving, kind, underplay
justice invoking, hew today

mainly, gentle, friendly, "I say"
enlightened, democratic chap redisplay
any besotted abominable,
     blamable, culpable, quay
esse chin hubble
     despicable, execrable prey
dot door formidable,
     inhospitable...overplay

ying faux indulgent,
     NOR be mistaken
     to assay, betray, convey,
display, expressway more fay
     writ his'm to
     gainsay hearsay, inveigh
jaw dropping "FAKE"
     yuge weak accusations

(by a long shot), sans
     basket of conspiring deplorables
     attempting to assassinate
bigly believe me tubby "stupid"
     winning loser to berate,
who doth unequivocally create
mine substantial vocabulary rumor,
     versus 4th grade reading level

     trumpeting librettist - thee great
test Don Quixote
     (as falsely sung with hate
full sotto voce), and ramped up
     as ill suited mate
a minus [sic] zero moron,
     which doth hapt
     tubby incredibly tremendous

     disservice to bona fide classy idiots
     with a lot of money
     (like the millions and billions
     of my golfing confrères)
given bent iron golf clubs
     used by crooked Hillary,
     when former Secretary of State
     ideal for Putin on the Ritz

by far less exciting, with
     Bill Clinton's flirtatious flits
trained pudenda purse
     sin null property
     of intern (NO FALLACY)
     topped as southern delicacy dish
consume mated with buttered grits
     pricked prurient peccadilloes licks

suddenly recalling seminal kicks
starting, how with Little Rock kits
he received assistance,
     sans starts and fits,
eventually then nubile
     ingenue Monica Lewinsky
     called time out, cuz at her wits
end once assisting helping

     express his "naughty bits,"
when done completing
     cum mincecd secrete mission
     blue dress draped 
     expensively furred

(i.e. tricked out) in her
     "FAKE" minx hiding
     sable animal spirits,
when animal rights
     activists vehemently protested
     out-coming result
     slapping former president
     with a PETA file.
Form: Elegy

Plato Complete

[ Form - Rap ]

( "Love's Survival" is a paucity. The proper dress is ice-skates and blind-folds. - © 1998 - R.W. )


what to do about Plato of late
the Greeks convinced

and about Pluto
lost planet status

he-haw atmospherics since

lost again when earth's bit brawl is done

say fie to sun and moon
who glaze your suspect skin

born of light

some bummed else
styles back up to air tumbles

traffic stumbles
write poetry

the kind
obscure agrees

always something sticks
as world goes why

unmasked
erasing blue

long after head-lamps cool

corners tangled fools
who think they may get rich

reform in morning phenomes

songs of lovely aches
all for your sake

maybe me too


The sorry state of stars 
they dont know where they are

the mice of earth
haggle sparkle verse

the awful beauty breaks
to spell your name

music intimates
the crippled rain

or just wear a funny hat
identity looms

found exactly where
you thought she'd gather

how she longs

each winged gesture
plain or complete

to be anywhere
anyone else

assay

any New York street
a poem

or Heaven's Gate
of ladder games


___________________

Notes:

    1.  Symbolic Poetry: A regurgitated commons.


    2.  Intentional obscurities wont thrill nirvana and bus fares remain alleged.

        ( cutting-edge technique for placing tongue in cheek ).


         (  a tooth-full... wouldn't you say?  )

Premium Member Tears

Thrills and spills grow a fine grain;
Explore the poise of profound hurts;
Ask for the will to bear with pain;
Reap your sure choice to purge all dirt;
Sense harshness sweet in dreary grounds.
Keep pain in mind as fury feeds;
Nude moments greet in measures sound;
One weary find can force feed need;
Watch worry string a cache of fears.
Fetch a sure form in ample strain;
Empty a fling that fumbles *****;
Assay the norm that fondles pain;
Reach a new deep where tears converge;
See how you weep in ghostly purge.




Leon Enriquez
19 April 2015
Singapore
Form: Sonnet

Requiem For a Lost Specimen of Poesy

Into what wisp of cloud or clod did my poem flee?
Into what minuscular pinch of diaphanous, free-floating empyreal, stratospheric air did my figurative furled parchment disappear?
Where are those poignant yet comic, yet weird and allusive and furtive and outrageous and oddly touching and haunting and charming and outlandish and wonderfully lame words that I wrote?
Why did I not, as I wilt with this, assay to make some few or sundry copies of them?
Why did not my cursor flick and flit over them, and my highlighter underscore and envelop them in its oddly circumvallatory way?
Why did I not behave upon these things, to actuate them, to do my bidding-
The only way I might have safeguarded and given due survival to these, my "children"? Children of an oddly misshapen, half-formed sort, but lovable all the same: Loved with the authorial yet kindly and parental love of the writer, 
The poet, the author...
They are missing, they are gone-and who but I, in my callow, thoughtless reckless irresponsibility; who but I mourns them?
I, who unwittingly made their death happen? 
(Yet, 'twasn't another, other than me, another agency, also blameworthy and complicit in these "deaths" and disappearances? In these inverse deletions and erasures? Wasn't some draconian governing body passing equally draconian and abstruse, unknown and unknowable, laws...were they not also to blame?
Where is the justice and the mercy and the forgiveness and the pity for the ignorant? For, in this case, myself? I, who almost was a victim, myself?)

For Me Is'T Easier This Way: a Collect of About Two Or Three Poems Yestereve Dashed Off

The singularity of my voice, 
Wailing out in this dark, wild, and philistine-infested wilderness
Today; Its uniqueness alone amongst several million babbling, 
Balbutient tongues, and inked pens and platitude-riddled pages on blinking 
Computer monitory screens,
The intelligible and the inane, 
The incomprehensible and the uncomprehending:
The pretenders to literature's throne and the 
Imposters of the immortals of poetry, drama, essay and fictive literature, as well as history and verse,
None of whose utter sublimity can these modern dolts and interlopers ever hope to assay.
He who writes these words with a swiftly flagging, already dying ember of hope,
Has cried aloud in the midst of all the untamed, inky wilderness 
Almost all of his life and particularly has he done so over 
The course of the past lustrum, and never once was 
He heeded, this involuntary 
Modern Jeremiah-
Yet, if I recall my scripture aright, initially as did Jonah, 
He did not wish the task, either:
That task with which the Lord charged and tasked him.

3. Though the age of the razor has for much more than an epoch, 
And more like a century, been upon us, yet its mastery in 
These times seems to have departed, like chaff upon the blowing wind.
Where is the clean and well-shaven face?
Where is the clearing, the meadow in all this wilderness of unkempt, untamed facial fur?
What ancient Jewishness has enthralled man so that now he 
Daily practices the dubious art of the bearded?
Of all the multitudinous arts, precepts, practices, 
Tenets, manners, and accouterments of the archaic Judean:
Many moral, upright, righteous and uniquely salutary:
Why has only the one betokening only the densely furred face
Has modern man sought to assay?
Even the author of this poetic, parodic 
Jeremiad, even he, who is in fact I;
I say even he has felt the furry, follicular, 
Hirsute hordes encroach full upon and in beleaguering it,
Make invasive inroads upon his Grecian deific countenance.
And aye, even that of his father's too....
ANd virtually every other man he knows,
About whom is this screed against shearing indolence, grooming sloth being written.
Form:

Premium Member Bone-Dry

The well that once had a spring is bone-dry
Rain torrential flow_water the cracked clay
Let the well fill with fresh water mile high
Then spring that comes forth will be gold assay

Just jewels of love will be given by muse
Jewels like Lovers' Knot crown royal
Help me to not in anyway gift misuse
Fill the well full with love above all

Muse visit me today as the bees hum
Visiting the Holly, Pear, Oak enjoy
The nectar of flowers to feed upon 
As lazily cotton puff clouds float with joy

Swiftly hand did pen twelve lines of beauty
Love flows, thoughts flow sharing spring joy duty
Form: Sonnet

Awkward Alliteration

Admissible adage abridge archaic ability about
Audit acrid admission artistic artificial array
Arrive anyplace, anywhere ardent atmosphere attraction
Apprehend apiece apparent artless atomic appearance
Adorable awkward admittance align ad-infinitum alienating anti
Activate acquittal addictive acreage administration
Attune audience's aspired aspiration assay alliance
Anxiety anybody's admittance approximate appropriate action
Auspicious aura avow angular anterior author's anthology
Artful animation architectural aftermarket affinity anon
Averse authorities axis align alphabetical acronymic
Abeyance actual abilities abide arbitrary audience abolish aborence
Form: ABC

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