Best Asterisks Poems
Soup Censors will never weigh risks
Of publishing physical frisks
For children must know
Wherever they go
Saint Francis rode three asterisks
Bring me reality, spare the insanity; preening and vanity
Do.! Its purpose I’d rather gather not
Twaddle and flatter; For ..!!
Really I’m open of view.’ I don’t want TV Docs
I want info that rocks’
Can I see some groundbreaking news?
Not acres of smiles, subterfuge and all wiles
I’d really like fair enough news,
It’s all panstick and slapstick and soundbites
And asterisks’ not to mention a grimness
That’s part of the brew, it seems the
Devil’s own cauldron is stirred to a fault
On the screens that are owned by a few
Do you think there might be?
Something better to see,
Have you ever thought
That there could be? an antidote to suggestion
Of gloomy dimensions, surely
It might just so be?
Not just medics with millions
With their bosses owning zillions
Who paid for their very degree?
Remember GMO in your food from Monsanto
But I guess; that’s already old
News … a week’s not a long time in your view; or maybe mine?
But in some circles, it’s a vital in-tu; intuition.. Revision in the dark
Winter tradition' ya’ know maybe it’s all doctored views?
Hey no smiling or laughing or back slapping,
Singing or dancing.
Unless you are in on the ruse.
©Joe Maverick 30-1-2022
Scowl from a Fowl
Everybody had been saying their blessing
Started to eat turkey filled with dressing
Along with some salad and cutup tomatoes
And my favorite which is sweet potatoes.
Ate crisp piece of bread without crumpling
Discovered how much I liked apple dumpling
Which is what we had towards the end
And turkey wishbone we tried to bend.
Longer the length always better the luck
And a turkey I never have tried to pluck
When it stopped running all over the place
He was left with terrible look on his face.
Teeth loosened as days of life did increase
And we ended up eating macaroni and cheese
Never again to see a face with a big scowl
Worn by tough turkey who once was a fowl.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran
www.poetrysoup.com
Name: jthorn5656
Password: *soldierboy*
In asterisks and one word
in small letters
Stars like stalactites, suspended in a sapphire sky
Tremble on a satin tapestry
As I ascend, awe-struck,
Into their icy incandescent light.
Resplendence enwraps me as I
Wend my way through a white-hot
Astral arc,
Yearning for something just beyond my grasp. . . .
Treasures await me.
Of that I am sure.
Tails of argent comets swiftly pass me as I climb new
Heavenly heights in hushed
Expectation.
Surging past the shimmering rings of Saturn, I see in the distance a
Throne of gold set in a taffeta tableau; the stars behind me now
Appear as small glowing asterisks.
Reaching transcendence, I
Sparkle.
written 2/19/12
Inspired by "Stairway To the Stars" Poetry Contest
of Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S
Countless numbers of the nights diamonds,
Boundless and bright twinkling afar.
Infinite beauty of magical luminosity,
Untold heavenly bodies known as stars.
It's nature's jewelry, prominent, and shiny,
Gleaming asterisks of spangling tiny light.
The heavens are filled with preeminent beauty,
From the myriad stars of a summer night.
I dream fragments of poetry,
my pen balanced in my hand,
journal opened to that page
already darkened
with blots of frustration,
asterisks for seemingly important ideas,
collections of words and phrases
intended for collage and inspiration,
pleas for clarity.
My poems appear haltingly,
in bits and pieces
written in several colors of ink,
each suited to the nature
of the several ideas that flit
through my paper mind:
vermillion extracted from cinnabar,
thinned with vodka for my good days;
palest sky-blue from the seed of the avocado
bathed in water and lye,
for those times when I know I can fly;
ocean-blue ultramarine
ground from lapis lazuli,
used carefully when I feel a need for absence;
brown leached from oak galls
steeped in acidic water,
yielding ink such that when employed,
dissolves the paper
beneath the words I have written,
leaving a lacework of poetry;
yellow from crushed petals of the marigold,
soaked in tears for when I am confused,
noir-black dipped from the depths
of my melancholy.
The final poems,
the ones I can live with,
come into focus
only after passage through
the fermentation of language
essential for developing notes
of flowers, stones, and juniper.
Only then are they shared.
she might have been beautiful
I'll never know
she might have been the best mother ever
Again, I'll probably never know
no bruises, no witnesses
did she lurch out in screams
as you handed her the grief of your business
how slanted you stood
tell me was it brief or was she another victim
sunday, bloody sunday
how unworthy you are to see monday
if life were a sitcom
i'd been abortioned
smiles, tears, divorce
a portion of a potion
if i make it to next year
i'll be twenty-five
and well alive
I wish i could say the same for you
Do you remember the twenty-first day
of that ninth month
she held on to this pain for you
i was born for this
bred from a diseased quilt
a testament of mans filth
a glass of wine
a past confined
perhaps we were nickel and dime'd to death
sometimes life resembles a fine line of stress
like a satin pillow
with burgundy stains
I worried you sane
"was it not lovely when i wrote away your misery
through my eyes i'll show you the world
it was a beautiful place"
i have no intentions to care what you think
or how you blink when your nightmares sink you
days have forwarded past you
i can only hope to out last you
i'd rather wear a mask then resemble a fraction of you
there was a time life was as simple as green pastures
slaves would cling to masters
women would sing of asterisks
of all the perfect worlds is this the one you designed
i'm feeling quite refined
over the years we've worshiped war
so many have died
you see the tears of porcelain stars
yet you learn nothing
nothing means anything
until you lose something
"If you lost your life for every mistake you made
you wouldn't make mistakes."
the black hitler's journal, entry II
* jumps onto a t-rex and gallops away into the sunset *
Boys sprawled on the floor
intent on setting up their army men
The floor cold and inviting
The stare of a teachers eye
The curve of her smile at common play
So there’s a movie, The Rules of Engagement
that is *the internal rules or directives
among military forces
ROE defines the circumstances
conditions, degrees and manner
in which the use of force
or actions
which might be construed, as provocative
may be applied*
so I innocently ask a question kids
have no business understanding
nor have an answer for, nor
for that matter do I have
a comprehensive understanding
of statement
but I ask anyway
because such flops
often come into my brain
and out of my patootie
What are your rules of engagement?
Just then a grandfather leans into my ear
You want to know what the rules of engagement are?
You get that son of a b***ch, before he gets you!
He goes on to tell me he’s reading
Tea with Terrorists
and says you don’t
I think by then I had fallen off my chair
and was lined up with the army men
2/5/2021
Based on my true story!
*Between asterisks, definition obtained from wikipedia
*All those monsters, you were talking about
...........They were replaced by cute bunnies and cuddly bears
*All those dark shadows you were complaining about
..........Sunlight diminished them
*All the demons that were scaring you
..........They were nothing. I scared them away now
*They're all gone now
.........Behold, your great hero is here!
*All your fears
..........I hope you conquer them
*I'm sorry
..........Hush now, Child
*I promise you
..........I'll protect you
*It was only me.
(now read only the lines with asterisks*)
*This is only a feeble attempt, i was just practicing,
tell me about your suggestions please :)
Plus, i don't know what kind of poetry this is
Form:
In between the scars
where was the frame ?
With artichoke, you were
dismentaling the ethos.
Giving a suspended
death sentence to cadence
of love. You know what
you did not know, about life.
Hauntingly ethical ? You
do not want to become a sensual
father, releasing sperms in
petri dishes. The eggs will find
their mates. It was a dark
conspiracy to overthrow the
hierarchy of calculus. Do
not remove the asterisks.
Satish Verma
Here's to those who
Don't get the kudos they deserve:
Perhaps you're too humble,
To tuck panegyrics into your pockets,
But you're rare diamonds unharvested.
Every single one of you!
Though buried gems, you aren't invisible.
Let me repeat this, none of you are invisible.
You need not fret about due credits unreceived
Though deaf to rounds of applause and cheers
For jobs well done, people take notice
And celebrate your talents.
People praise your good deeds
And document your accomplishments.
Yes, indeed, people know you exist.
Your painstakingly crafted masterpieces
That slipped through the cracks?
Someone found it, and so did I.
I'm not blind to your artistry.
All the good that you do
To make a difference in this vale of tears,
Someone is paying attention.
Most of the world is too deeply asleep
To watch you shine in the twilight sky,
But there are those aware that you're up above;
Shine on! Shine on, bright stars.
Your names will never become asterisks
In the treasured book of memories.
You'll remain unforgettable.
Poets,
Mentors,
Teachers,
Volunteers;
All unsung heroes out there
That doesn't get enough kudos,
Here's a trophy from me.
Thanks for all you do, and keep it up!
Date written: 10/20/2022
Love goes away quickly, without regrets, tears and farewells, leaving only insomnia and bleeding stanzas. Sloppily, hastily and haphazardly written lines: "Love's gone, leaving behind all i's dotted and all t's crossed”. Oh, how you’re rough, my draft! Misspellings, strikethrough vows of love, blacked out curses, female profiles in the margins, exclamation points, blots and ellipsises - ellipsises at the end of every line - the footprints of irreversible love...
crests zigzags lightings
asterisks that's how love went
into my poems
in love with vermilion
floating on optics
………………………………………….
you learn in moments of insult
or insults in moment of learning
………………………………………….
fishless bones
still he smels of withering pain
on black satin
…………………………………………….
you don’t want to suffer
with asterisks
annotation
disfigurs the essence
……………………………………………
i will boil the moon
to find the separateness
between scent and grief
…………………………………………..
i am done
the poem is over
death has walked away
Satish Verma
You must be very proud of yourself today,
For last night's curious juvenile display,
When in another of your childish snits,
You ripped your copy of the President's speech to bits!
What a sad example you've set for America's sons and daughters to emulate.
God help America with you and people of your ilk guiding Her fate.
What a pitiful, deplorable and legendary farce!
You will forever be renowned as America's 'orses ****!
(Note: Soup censored my word indicated by the 4 asterisks but it rhymes
with farce!)