Best Back Poems
Who would I bring back, if I had only one
Perhaps a great leader, Kennedy or Lincoln
Or I could choose a musical icon
Such as John Lennon or Michael Jackson
Maybe a legend of the silver screen
Maybe Marilyn Monroe or James Dean
All gifts to the world, but the selfish truth
I would bring back the mother of my youth
The mother who, with sublime grace,
Applied lipstick and blush to her ivory face
The mother whose delicate jasmine perfume
Filled my childhood's every room
Whose all-day-long-to-cook beef stew
Was the first comfort food I knew
Her dancing steps, so full of ease
Until the claws of arthritis seized
Her laughter so free, her hugs so giving
Before these days of assisted living
I would return the fire to her hair
And raise her from the wheelchair
And, as I used to, watch her choose
Her dress, earrings, necklace and shoes
Then she'll softly kiss my cheek
Before going out, coiffed and sleek
To her I would give my own energy
To be, again, the woman in my memory...
10/09/18
for Caren Krutsinger's 'Who Would You Bring Back' contest
In visions of yesteryear where there was love
Nothing but despair on the faces of hope
And shattered remains of a romantic fairytale
Whose happy ending has been snatched away
Yet, I grind sand-grains hoping to make water
Counting blindly on the blessings of a miracle
Knowing well indeed it's a futile effort
Like looking for sun when the night has fallen
Mystique is still there much like it was then
But happy tears have been doomed by sadness
And the memories are demanding a hefty price
Making it much harder and expensive to cry
The rhythm I hear is the pulse of your song
When words were precious like diamonds are
But they are free now for no one responds
When I call you by name in voices of the past
It's been so long since you've been gone
Smiles that were friendly now wear a frown
Until I fantasize about the days full of awe
Holding back the time to hold you in my heart
But if you must go, I feel the need to know
Do you ever look back, do you say hello
To the years that used to be music to our souls
And sit there to dream and wish there was more
Written: May 17, 2019
Submitted on January 5, 2023 to:
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 24 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Poem of the day on May 19, 2019
Placed 2nd: Your choice (6) contest by Brian Strand
Placed 2nd: Musical Inspiration Poetry Contest by Joseph May
Song: Holding Back the Years
Iris sun fades and so does the day
whispers the carried in the silence of night glowing
Wishes floating on silver trails faraway
The image of your face will forever bounded to this world
Angels Brought you to me made a lightening
sparkling diamonds in the misting treasures gems so bright
Ice roses turns into a steaming jungle of quivering glass
Flashing in the distance, in the moon light
and all of its stars, that's where the angels dancing
A beautiful adventure picture sparklers on a winter night
A cold moon dressed in dark velvet
with a pearl milky white smile beams
Sparkling jewel crystal lights up
stars blinking silver awakening
warm invading darkness your light
My life has at last found its light and its hope
Soulful cries a wolf dressed in winter clothes
faraway over ocean waves
carries in a wind’s whisper sweet music dances
A magical night that will set the spirit free
Silently breathes out a puff of magic sweetly
beauty enchants warmly etching strikes
frosted fingers cracking ice deeply echoes
Striking inside bells toll warmly skipping drumbeats
bouncing of chamber walls loving tunes
Believing in your love a dream
Which enchants music of the butterflies dance
howling clouds out steaming warm sighs fluttering warmly
I closed my eyes at the end of the road
and thought of the stars
and the reason earth spins around the sun
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid and
Anne- Lise Andresen :) - 28.12.2014 -
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
On boulevards of memories, with you I walk
Reminiscing in yesteryear as I turn back the clock
And persuade the silence of amour to talk
As conversations of yore ridicule and mock.
When passage of time changed us, losing its way
Feelings that still evoked had nothing to say
And hearts then discarded rules of the game
For love no longer cared to ignite the flame.
Echoes of desires stopped calling your name
When lyrics of our song could no longer claim
Melodies foregone that altered our frame
As I stepped forward alone to take all the blame.
But, regrets that mount have no place to go
Except being drawn into pathos of woe
As winter emerges in the midst of spring--
In passions of ruby rose, its thorns now sting;
Like summer’s heat burns soft autumn breeze
And gusty gales shatter last leaf of barren trees,
When in serenity of blue-skies dark clouds frown
Raining on crimson arc in twilight of sundown.
We now reside in our separate new meadows,
Having barred future from sullen past shadows,
In nights of blissful reverie, kissing dreams of dawn--
Pointless it is to invoke dreadful spirits long gone.
From the fork in the road we’ve traveled far,
In abodes of our distinct worlds happy we are;
View in front is golden glow of vibrant sunrise--
Rear view spurs spent emotions of dreary skies.
October 9, 2019
Placed 2nd: If only we could turn back the hands of time poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
HM: Strand contest #670 by Brian Strand
C ountry roots beckon regrets of past transgression
O ne-way ticket meant to soothe my innermost obsession
M emories of you not fading with passing of the years
I mmortal flame has kept alive cherished souvenirs
N aively thinking I’d drift and just avoid the truth
G ames were played in the foolish gardens of my youth
B almy nights not forgotten in the heat of summertide
A ugust breezes summon me to return home by your side
C innabar and cinnamon reverie of your perfume in moonlight
K aleidoscopic magic remembered in your eyes at midnight
H eartstrings of surrender repentant to bygone wanderlust
O pen your heart and grant me a chance to earn again your trust
M oonstruck and lovesick ready to prove myself and pay my due
E nchanted under your spell I’ve come back home to you
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on February 14, 2021 for contest COMING BACK HOME sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 2ND
Back to Basics
When all the rust takes over and our final structure falls
When that wood has finally rotted and the final trumpet calls
When the last day here on earth has then become your first
There will only be one way to quench that human thirst
When the light here starts to fade and your eyes are growing dim
When our thoughts can quickly turn, to this world away from him
When the last thing that we hear is the first we start to see
If you get lost in the forest, simply focus on the tree
His blood has now been shed, and his sacrifice was made
He suffered and died for us, for our debt to be fully paid
There is no greater love than what God has given and sent
Harden not your heart, accept the truth and then repent
None of us are perfect and worthy we are not
We repeat the same old sins and squander what we’ve got
Just remember what I tell you as you watch the sunset fall
Jesus Christ died for our sins, and his blood was shed for all
Mark Koplin
9/3/25
Who'd have thought words make them react like this,
failing to see my wit, just the unattractiveness.
An eye for crudeness that'll overpower the humorous.
I'm sure within their brain a tumour lives.
Has your face ever felt the force of a fist?
It'll twist your perception like a contortionist,
because offence and pain aint two of the same.
One requires staples so that the blood's contained,
the other's just a thought you'd rather not maintain.
I get that neither are a source used to entertain,
but at the end of the day crudeness aint pain.
Offence is just a nuisance you choose to refuse,
it aint a scar, a cut or a bruise.
Scars are something you can never remove,
but when I got mine I made jokes that amused.
So can you help me now please and give me some clues,
when I'd been hit by a knuckle duster I was less confused.
Do you really feel pain when I'm crude and rude?
Please explain how words upset and leave you offended.
How does it feel and how do you end it?
Is it just simple natural sounds that you can't stand?
Compare that to soldiers losing limbs and can't stand.
If this is you I've just one thing to say my friend,
your life is easy if words drive you around the bend.
POTD
5/7/2018
A Look Back at Eighteen Months Here-The Show is Over
When your poems reside in a shoe,
like mine,
pounding the pavement to nowhere.
The onset of blisters isn't imagined.
Those blisters take roots,
hindering your motivation
to move-
and to continue to write.
It hurts.
Seeing those poems take residence
in pity.
Sans the
comfort of
leather and lace,
shine and sole,
all of which would have been nice.
But all my eyes see are my poems,
tucked away in worn loafers,
unpolished,
unnoticed.
Not exactly eye candy.
But eyesores ...judging by the lack of views, here.
And undoubtedly my shoes made of synthetics
and sneakers
to the purveyors of good poetry
and good shoeshine.
I look down for good reason,
defacto
and stigmatized,
no contest wins,
no poems ever in the top 100 (new) list,
no scent of roses (or views),
nothing.
Nothing.
An abyss of sublimity,
save for the white bird
that chirps
to nobodies ears.
To wit.
For he who signs up for this site
got a handful of mixed emotions,
confetti less tomorrows,
a begotten rah, rah,
a ladle of spiel,
poems published ...
and in my case alone footnote
that I was a member
sans the shoe shine.
I really have to admit,
writing here,
eighteen months now,
has taken its toe.
I have no one to blame but myself.
Kind Regards,
connie pachecho
4/26/2018
The proprietor of the show has decided to call it quits, citing mental health issues here. The posse of black bears got to me. The guises, pretense, and hate towards me eroded my spirit. Tell her she can play with my insanity but not my spirit. To my readers, I really appreciate your patronage during this journey here even though the crops are bare and the barn fronts a blank stare.
The cows fight with the pigs, and bacon went to waste. One thing I take is the seed in me to aspire elsewhere, which I've already planted at HP under the name Logan Robertson. Thanks again. Wish everybody the best.
Some numpty bad mouthed my soup style
I’ve taken a break for a while
But I won't be deterred
From writing about turd
And subjects some others deem vile
I’m producing book number two
It contains some poems on poo
Foul flatus departing
Old codgers rank farting
And my pet hate vile doggy doo!
My muse has been hiding out
And with no peep, squeak or shout
She must be sound asleep
No words, just counting sheep
Tired of the poetry drought
Oh where, O where has my gypsy muse flown
Seems she has left me to write on my own
I must not be too rude
She'll cop an attitude
And then taunt me like an evil old crone
Mine vanished after my last book
I've rested and changed my outlook
My brain ran out of juice
And my 'vowels' were loose
Twas quite a feat that my muse took
Honestly, I think mine is rebelling
But there is absolutely no telling
What my missing muse might do
I dare not call her a shrew
Or she'll never return to my dwelling
Upon my desk, I see she's left a note
"I'm on a vacation," is what she wrote
"Perhaps I should've phoned
To say I won't be owned."
Should I have mentioned her in a footnote?
Perhaps she's in a gypsy caravan
Seeking a lover, a Romani man
Living a nomadic life
If he takes her for his wife
I'll need a new muse and a new game plan
My muse is now knocking on my door
Searching for my words left on the floor
She is gathering my lines
Blending them like a fine wine
Hoping for a few new poems and more
Well, recently my muse returned
Her holiday was very well earned
I'll write sensible words
Not on pooping or turds
Poop poetry, my muse has spurned
My muse is back after weeks refusing
And now she can't stop yakking and schmoozing
Three muses have returned
But we're a lil' concerned...
What if we don't find their thoughts amusing?
*Collaboration of Tania, Jan and Lin
My muse has been hiding out
And with no peep, squeak or shout
She must be sound asleep
No words, just counting sheep
Tired of the poetry drought
Oh where, O where has my gypsy muse flown
Seems she has left me to write on my own
I must not be too rude
She'll cop an attitude
And then taunt me like an evil old crone
Mine vanished after my last book
I've rested and changed my outlook
My brain ran out of juice
And my 'vowels' were loose
Twas quite a feat that my muse took
Honestly, I think mine is rebelling
But there is absolutely no telling
What my missing muse might do
I dare not call her a shrew
Or she'll never return to my dwelling
Upon my desk, I see she's left a note
"I'm on a vacation," is what she wrote
"Perhaps I should've phoned
To say I won't be owned."
Should I have mentioned her in a footnote?
Perhaps she's in a gypsy caravan
Seeking a lover, a Romani man
Living a nomadic life
If he takes her for his wife
I'll need a new muse and a new game plan
My muse is now knocking on my door
Searching for my words left on the floor
She is gathering my lines
Blending them like a fine wine
Hoping for a few new poems and more
Well, recently my muse returned
Her holiday was very well earned
I'll write sensible words
Not on pooping or turds
Poop poetry, my muse has spurned
My muse is back after weeks refusing
And now she can't stop yakking and schmoozing
Three muses have returned
But we're a lil' concerned...
What if we don't find their thoughts amusing?
When I think back...
I see your eyes on me across the room,
The way your lips slowly curve into a happy smile,
Your strong arms holding a child,
And I think back...
Do you remember being the "Big Man" on campus back then?
Or the easy ways of the women you've held?
The loving hearts that you've shuttered and broke?
And I think back...
Do you remember those secret games we once played?
Or the silent pleas to the Lord that you've made?
The loving family you've had and destroyed?
And I think back...
And I think back to the way things are and smile,
And I think back to the way you were and I know,
And I think back to the man you've become and I love you,
And I thank back...then I thank God.
To the tune of "Santa Clause Is Coming To Town"
You better look up,
prepare for His sight.
The Lord will come back
some day or some night.
Jesus Christ Is Coming Back Down.
He's making a list.
He's paid the great price.
Who's going in route
to His paradise?
Jesus Christ Is Coming Back Down.
He sees you when you're breathing.
He knows you need His grace.
He knows that we have all been bad,
but He died to take our place.
With bright Seraphim and bright Cherubim,
Trumpy trumpets, and drummy drum drums,
Jesus Christ Is Coming Back Down.
He sees you when you're weeping.
He offers His embrace.
He knows you like nobody else,
yet He loves you anyway.
You better not doubt.
You wanna know why?
Your life could end soon.
There's no second try.
Jesus Christ Is Coming Back Down
Jesus Christ Is Coming Back Down
Jesus Christ Is Coming Back Down
12-01-2013
The song that moves and
touches my heart is dance
with my father again.
Because I will never forget
the man my father was.
Back when I was a child
I longed to be in his
presence.
He had a larger than life
personality.
His nieces and nephews
looked at him as a father.
“Oh lord I’m dying to dance
with my father again”.
Everytime I hear the song I
begin to cry.
I long for his hug
I long to hear his voice
“Oh lord I’m dying to dance
with my father
again”
“ Oh lord we’re all dying
to dance with my father
again”.
4-4-17
Alexis Y
Inspired by my favorite song
Dance With Father Again
Written by Richard Marx And
Luther Vandross
https://youtu.be/wmDxJrggie8
I stand by the water, a bottle in my hand.
The spirits help me face another day.
Think about my wife and kids and do not understand,
How I walked out and threw it all away.
Look out on still waters, tears fall from my eyes.
Drifting through the promises I made.
Promises that float away on dark and clouded skies.
When the wind whispers, the devil must be paid.
But now and then there's laughter in my memories.
Little voices shouting, daddy I love you.
Tears that fall for happy, prayers on bended knees.
Life flowed like a river, dreams did come true.
CHORUS
Lord, help me get back on the road to happiness.
Safe into adoring arms and loving sweet caress.
I need you Lord to guide me, You're my only friend.
Help me Lord, please help me, find my way back home again.
I can't remember when, it started to go wrong.
But, somehow I just lost the will to live.
The shadows and the darkness summoned me to come along.
And gave me life with nothing left to give.
I'm walking on a tightrope, my heart is on the brink.
My strength is gone, there's nowhere left to fall.
The bottle gives me nothing but the need for one more drink.
God I pray that you can hear me call.
Cause now and then there's laughter in my memories.
Little voices shouting, daddy I love you.
Tears that fall for happy, prayers on bended knees.
Life flowed like a river, dreams did come true.
CHORUS
Lord, help me get back on the road to happiness.
Safe into adoring arms and loving sweet caress.
I need you Lord to guide me, You're my only friend.
Help me Lord, please help me, find my way back home again.