Best Awarding Poems
She That Time And Fate Can Never Erase
BEHOLD- she that a torn heart can repair,
a Venus that bright stars envy and praise
she that reflects morn's firstborn golden rays
sumptuous love, beyond mortal compare!
Soft as silk glistening as fallen dew
blithe spirit, born of Aphrodite's gifts
she of dreams, radiant hope sent so swift
treasured kisses that sets my world anew!
State of resplendent royal purple glow
siren serenading sweetest of songs
awarding respite from world's teeming throngs
sweet as honey, pure as fresh fallen snow!
"O, but for that end true love reunites,
may destiny's arrows fly swift and right!
Darling, my beloved- of beauty's grace
She that Time and Fate can never erase!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-25-2020
Sonnet, plus two( Lind-Sonnet And Two )
( Born of a summer of love in 1973 )
Yet now, thrives as a dream that was
once lived and now tis' deeply treasured!
Dedicated to the inspiration that Byron
and his magnificent poetry that he has
gifted to this too oft dark and sad world....
Some say mankind’s a blight upon the Earth
That left alone would be a paradise
But sucks its blood and lays on it a curse
Destined to burn or freeze in waste of ice
Cassandra voices preach in latter days
To craven souls, increasing sad despair
In strange alliance then they focus gaze
On tide of opportune chance to ensnare
Emotions raised from hopelessness to rage
Seduced by siren songs assuring virtue
Awarding promises of guilt assuaged
Enabling dominion, cancel, curfew
But do all men to tyranny conspire
Does nature lone and wild itself admire
**************
Yet there are those perhaps in greater number
With faith, they constitute a wider legion
Then true virtue and goodwill, now in slumber
May be awakened to become a beacon
Unmired in apathy of victimhood
We humans coexist, sister and brother
With all parts of existence, spurred for good
In co-creative hand, one with another
The world we know, we play part in begetting
Perhaps as agents all, of Providence
A diverse panoply conveys our setting
With free choice to make certain its defence
No! tyranny need not unchecked conspire
Our world could prove a backcloth to admire
N/A in contest: ALL YOURS (MAR 14)
Faith and Adam to the rescue
Delighted many people in queue
Purely a heartfelt-blow of compassion
To people of the world in different fashion
Peabody is the name on filminis
A small horse spotlighted out of many stories
Strength to Faith and Adam for their concern
And to dodo, awarding an inspiring life for Pea of mane
Fate’s Game
by Odin Roark
Like innocent spray atop a tsunami curl,
You ride your controlled serendipity,
Delivering surety in an unexpected twist,
Destiny’s setup for drama that follows.
Never satiating your alacrity,
You fish-oil-coat your barbed cunning,
Slipping lathered lures easily
Down gullible throats of anticipation.
For you,
Making another landfall
Is just another layer
Added to your flotsam-beach theatrics,
Designed like playful foreshadowing
For a planned second and third act dénouement.
Oh how you chortle
Amid your game of certainty,
Bedding the unsuspecting like a predestinate,
A loan-out reality guised in wet dream duplicity,
Arousing our trust,
Yet never awarding a curtain call
Of our own choice.
Quandary persists.
After all,
Like nature’s often sardonic casting,
You are fate,
The ever-floating understudy,
An ineluctable wave-curl in waiting,
An unrevealed power we know not of
Until…
This song;
For you
It goes back to time
Of ages compacted with lime
Something like;
Aiming an arrow to the pupil of the bull’s eye
Or poaching the miniscule creatures above
It was us! Remember?
-me, you and others.
We never played the piracy game
Or threw bullets at one another on horse backs
No…!
Nor did we travel on jets and took ‘others’ lives
By our tiny manipulative bombs.
No!
We shook the world like solders marching through ‘E’vans Avenue’
-Great!
We filled and enlivened the world through the
Melodious tone of our souls
And, as firm as rock we spiced and tuned others lives
Leaving only one word from those who analytically witnessed us
-Heroines
yes, heroines
the Victorians of those gone days
-thanks for the origin of the name
my gratitude and appreciation goes to you, others and I
For
Every Eternal
Valuable
Awarding
Nest of
Sisterhood
That crowned on it the fruits of our youth
Creating, building and leaving
an Avenue of memory.
this was a dedication I wrote to my high school classmates. it was a boarding school for girls only.
Written between 2000-2003
Just the young thoughts of the young mind
The title of this poem was taken from the theme for a contest on another site. Contest hosts playing favorites is an issue that many of you here in PS have stuck in your craw...whether you admit it or not. Below is my entry, which I didn't write with the hope of winning. The rule was to write 8 - 12 lines of something bright and lively. This hardly meets that qualification, but nonetheless...
Another poem that did not place
That sponsor is such a disgrace
awarding the win to a friend
It's difficult to comprehend
Why, that's not a contest at all
not worth entering with my scrawl
I come not to bury the host
Nor raise a glass in honored toast
I've written what was in my craw
I'll use pen and paper to draw
unless I know all will be fair
I'll post my poetry elsewhere
B elieving in a muse meant to amuse
R ecites his verses leaving clues
I mpetuous no time for schmooze
A ficionado of smooth rhythm and blues
N obody alive could fill Brian’s shoes
S avory contests are his prized specialty
T allies judging without awarding penalty
R hyme or free verse, sweet or salty
A bove all Brian will never tire
N o one more prolific proclaims the town crier
D rumroll please for the sire we most admire
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on January 6, 2021 for contest CAPTURE THE ESSENCE sponsored by MARGARITA LILLICO - RANKED 8TH
His daddy died from workin’, the boy dropped out of school,
He should’ve hid out in college, that patriotic fool.
His mama, she was weepin’ that day he raised his hand,
He wrote her almost ev’ry week from a Southeast Asian land.
He led his men in battle, he risked his ass each day,
He hit the dirt but not in time when a bullet came his way.
A purple decoration—rehabilitation, and an ex-wife—
And now his nation’s awarding him…just twenty years to life.
The details they don’t matter, no, it’s just some Veteran’s crime,
The Vietnam War ain’t over yet, it takes a long, long time.
Psychiatrists and lawyers, they fashioned his defense,
They tried to make him crazy, but the jury took offense.
Now he don’t sniff that cocaine, no, and all he drinks is beer;
But he’s got memories in living color, they re-run all so clear.
He hears those people screamin’, he sees the bombs’ bright light—
It all came back one fatal night…inside that bar-room fight.
The details don’t matter, no, it’s just some Veteran’s crime,
The Vietnam War ain’t over yet, it takes a long, long time.
Let my weakness swim in brook of strength,
As i seek death in the pool of lust.
To turn away my eyes from illegit cast,
And plunge them to path of awarding conduct.
To the swaggering whisper of lust,
I receive at every rhythm of my heart beat.
I stand firm to un-sheath my sword,
To clamp this re-echoing and recurring bait.
I propitiate You thee to armour me,
With guards of incorruptible candour,
That fall not to intrigues of my sisters,
From whom i met falls without counts
O god! Why community raises:
Where are you?
Show thy supernatural powers.
Why don’t you visible to us?
I had a belief that,
No one had ever seen you.
But, I can witness you, my lord.
You’re my spirit and my hope.
Deity! Why do I undergo?
That I am born alone,
So as to I sometimes, lose faith in you.
My heart beats fast enough.
O my divinity, I honestly believe,
In my hallucinations
You will react to my queries.
I trust you, the mania I shout.
In the cosmic universe,
Whether you will come or not
I bet, you will send an angel, certainly,
To survey me and answer query
Inhabitants depict you through,
Different pictures in diverse religions.
Sorry to them, thy supremacy can be seen
In terms of thy creations
Thy grin is the moon brightening the heavens.
Thy anger is the sea waves razing the shore.
Thy help is the poor getting meals twice.
Thy sorrow is someone’s death.
My Idol! I have seen people,
At the time of need, crying and pleading.
Reply, how many devotees are here,
Who thank you for awarding happiness?
Answer nation:
If you believe in god’s creation,
You splurge huge money in front of scenic god.
Offering a lone coin to poor doesn’t consider god?
O heavenly father, once I want to add
In final, bleed me for a while in my existence.
So that the scatter sins flow from me,
To thy forgiving sea whose depth is judged by thee.
A devotee’s prayer to lord,
-Shrishty Shrivastava
-10th standard
Why schools?
We are not clear
WiseElder sighed
in desperate fear.
Why guns at school?
Where teachers try
and pine for Golden EcoRules.
We sacred pry to teach
cooperation
And in return
guns rape our secular market nation.
We strive to learn
not to waste life
what God has given
pedagogic grace love.
Why point automated guns
at schools for deep cooperative learning
how society right ought to run?
Such mown down waste
streaming out of place
assaulted from within
without health-wealth
productive face.
We are what we nourish
on the field
and in each indoor
and outdoor classroom
competing for success
without innocent Right's
cooperative prime relational
sacred co-present flourish.
Silent deep ecological/theological learning
gasping rabid claustrophobia
Fearing the worst absence of breath,
competition's violent aptic phobia.
Feed me!
silent screams voiceless Innocence
longing for a place to anxiously learn
without deeper LoseLose dissonance,
defined and refined
by aptic absence
of WinWin resonance.
Deep sacred consumers
grow internally/externally terrorist alarming
when cooperation's redemptive resilience
is bought from
and sold to highest competing performers
In society's rabid operationalizing,
awarding speaking parts
sung by Wild Western Old Farts
about history's highest and best,
most accurately aiming,
non-elite alarming,
RedPrince Southern Adolescent Charming.
Red automated assault
AntiGreen
competing monoculturation,
punishing devolution,
anti-healthy monoculturing rabid expansion
growing individually devalued,
secularized,
sometimes isolated for punishing demonization,
overpopulation
harvesting toxic anti-outdoor green classroom STEAM results.
THE FORGOTTEN JUDGES
I had forgotten them because it was long ago
But nothing is forgotten
It is all written in the book
The great ledger showing credits and debits
Used to think of Judgement as being
A guy in a white beard totting up
The debits and credits and then awarding
Some sort of final gift based on the balance
Now it has suddenly become clear that
There will be perhaps a small handful of
People from the past, now long gone,
Facing me as I approach the teller’s grille
They stop me as I try to join the line,
And draw me aside to their small group
I can’t remember them - but they remember me
An old woman all wet from the rain,
Two guys looking down-and-out without jobs or hope
A schoolkid with broken glasses from some class of losers
And an African child, way too thin to be healthy.
They all smiled and talked about incidents
Where I had touched their lives somehow.
With my weekly cheque, the African had survived and become an engineer.
Glasses-kid graduated school, grew up and found a wife in Chicago.
One old guy had died soon after I met him,
But with a warm meal inside his belly and hope.
Other guy liked the job I got him in some recycling place.
Old woman had spent my cash on lessons for her grandson -
Every bag of her pickled cabbage I bought on that windy wet street
Sent him to school and he earned enough to look after her
In her older years, much to her relief.
I said I was glad to see them again, looking so well.
Even though I didn’t remember them –
But that I really had to get in line for the grille
They said listen up - you can
Skip the line, go straight in the white door over there,
And say we sent you - you’ll be ok.
no man is an island,
part of the continent i believe thee to say
well some have chosen a peninsula
free of cross-town traffic
friends are few and far between
we treasure our own thinking
less the frivolous conversations
with entities of no real worth, our pursuits
life quieter absent the chatter
have absconded from life's drama
which is a good thing
because the more withdrawn
the scarier to the world you are
hence few phone calls
or emails of, please forward at once
should a distant relative win the lottery
you won't be trampled in the line
having left the neighborhood
what better to your back
then the metaphor of the sea
there is no better place to be
dreaming of life on the high seas
easier to deal with reality, Empyreal Heights
more than likely your awarding fate
so yes, no man is truly an island
John Donne is quite correct
and if i could show him this world
of dystopian novels, romantic walking-dead
religious babblers, political rapscallions, preppers
blame God for manmade heaps of misery
brains with no depth of history
oxytocin, mirror neuron drooling fools
emotions missing logic and reasoning
better hauled away in a Honey wagon
or deposited into Honey Buckets
neither of which attracts a bee
well i am sure he would add a peninsula
to some other possibilities where to reside
then quickly disappear for apparent reasons
but you know us Romantics
we try to see a better side
from our own rooms on the peninsula
far from the maddening crowd
where creativity breeds unmolested
OKC 6/22
Remember Trump's Vanity Wall?*
(You still owe for it, after all)
Cartels dug under
Drones flew asunder
And what still stands is doomed to fall!
* Trump refused to listen to experts!
Whilst he played gold, his staff
helped themselves to all the perks,
awarding lucrative government
contracts to corrupt contractors
who diddled the government out
of billions for shoddy planning,
materials, and construction!
Of course, the GOP want more
of that "leadership"!
Sudden slump of that which was erect
Which by standing up tries to correct -
Continually, we meet a fall,
As athletes compete; during football,
Nearly always suspending a game,
Referees whistle protecting its name.
Time for awarding a team free kick:
One way of letting a squad wounds luck…
In a clinic a malfunctioning heart:
Cause for the medics to around dart
By the fainting who had not eaten,
For nothing he had left in kitchen;
This type of fall the solvable
By fronting one with consumable…
Not the from-Grace-to Grass of Greats
The painful crash of once heavy weights:
Their well-fought fame burning to cinders
But tomorrow’s rise not this hinders…