Best Bantered Poems
Write !
Some madness banter of insanity
is pulling at my thoughts
spilling effulgent
in giant verbs and huge marching nouns
collecting snippets as it walks
stomping on flowers
and mushing liquid the paints of images
swirls captivated
with great toed boots
I can hear it coming
a hefty heavy steady stamp
and I am almost afraid that it might rack me
hit me hard
and demand some elucidated expression from me
I would shudder
but excitement won't let me
Instead it sets me to a creaking ball points
and tiny alphabets that strain my eyes
while spelling out its diffident request
Write it says
Write, while some half cold sickness grip my stomach
and I wretch on grammar
and thus the great feathers quill
dips in the ink of my soul
and so ineptly scribbles epilepsy
explanation, image, wordage, spillage of sensory lobotomy
partridge in a god-damn pear tree
Curl about my finger
and reek havoc through those dictionary brain cells
yer! smash them brain cells
mush, mash and squeeze the last drip
find expression in the gooey lumps that are left
WRITE ! god dam it !
Be succinct, be poetic
surpassing idiom and useless language
for Christ sake just WRITE it !
Pilloried on my own sheets of paper
by my own pen
because it never catches enough
as it twist this origami of words
i-n-t-o s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g
I want to express
I need
I want
To etch with you
A moment of perfection
I need your voices
I need to hear you sing my poets
I need these scratching and scathing claws
and I need your delicate dance
I need something to end this misery
and I need this piquant
this ever enlightened soul search of words
to wrap up this bundle of love
And toss me nonchalant into eternity
Lest some madness of bantered insanity
Takes hold of me
Categories:
bantered, on writing and wordsme,
Form:
Free verse
I've been watching these two groups lately,
Left and right & all those between.
Where resolutions appear adrift or absent,
And legislation became downright mean.
The battling and the bickering, seems to be
Creating fear all along to blame.
While moderation and discourse through debate,
Has fallen painfully, only to face shame.
As this nationalism is bantered about,
Extolling the revered, capitalistic way
Only to 'trash talk' anything socialistic,
As if the demonic would come out to play.
And forget anything of a brave new world,
As globalization is fought and ignored.
Because that one world government might
Loom closer to some, & we know how that's deplored.
Yet we have also witnessed a dismal harvest,
When seeds of distrust finally bore their fruit.
While some felt it added to our greatness,
More saw only failure that was absolute.
Since our greatness isn't defined by the irrational,
Its definition lies with opportunity & equal chance.
So as we feed on our roots of diversity & fairness,
Our growth will be the fuel to romance.
Categories:
bantered, 12th grade, conflict, political,
Form:
Rhyme
Punxsutawney Phil Speaks
A life of Riley, I wallow,
While at the fairground my fans are all gung-ho
Why should I bother to come out of my hollow?
They’re all out there waiting and watching for the verdict
I have the right to object, but they might evict
I am so excited they all wait for me to show now
My gorgeous bod and to take a bow,
For my stunning warm furry rodent performance
And all my noisy whistles, shrills, and sometimes my happy grunts
Should I keep wallowing in my hollow?
Or let them suffer by seeing my strikingly attractive shadow
And let them think they have six more weeks of winter or bring
Them at ease and be kind and do my duty and let them have spring
Or be the star of the day and be honored
To parade me around raise over their shoulders while cheered and be bantered
My fans dance, rise, analyze, and criticize
With the blinding display of light exploding in from of my eyes
I come out to make my debut, but a shadow I saw and with shrieks
Ran back in my hollow to wallow another six weeks
1/16/2015
Sponsor: John Lawless
Contest: Punxsutawney Phil Speaks
Categories:
bantered, celebration, weather,
Form:
Rhyme
My world on a piece of paper
Drawn and felt under the Moon's vesper
Simple life I rended
Under a tree I shredded
Early in life I staggered
Held only a pencil and a paper
Walking with shoes of a cobbler
Trudging many roads that bantered
At sixteen my life turned and spinned
In a world not mad, but splinted
At eighteen my world tuned in din
Like a song in a jukebox, worn and tinted
Years passed and my world stayed the same
To act and strive without shame
My thoughts that broke me in two
In a world that honed me to be true
The world is full of mystery
Stand up and walk over misery
God opens a way to relive a life
His name I praise all my life
Past will always be a history
History of any man with clogged stories
Stories that can break you or mend you
Stories of you, all but one in you
Categories:
bantered, life, nature, world,
Form:
Verse
( A sequel to my poem “The Lady of Whitelace Castle” )
Are ye, my lady, an apparition
or perchance a fair servant frail?
The ruddiness of pinks
touching neither your cheeks
as you wander about so pale
My lips turn blue from winter’s cold
under this arch of elm sentinels
growing quickly despondent
not knowing the truth
of your present presence tale
Speak, please now, that I may dispel
ghost sagas of Whitelace myths…
Be ye her Mistress
in this ghostly vision
or the fair servant once lost in the mist?
Some hold the truth in the latter
but for me the true facts do matter
as I am the one
that bid Mistress farewell
when her hand was promised another
It’s been bantered about for years
that you seek true love unattained
I’m wondering now
if our forbidden vows
is that love that you search for in vain
I beg that ye now speak your story
tossing my sanity here out as witness
for in health’s decline
my heart also seeks
the lost love of the Castle’s Mistress
I stand here now in this snow drift
shivering skin on now brittle bones
I could surely die
A satisfied man
If my joining your spirit would atone
© 2014 Debra Squyres 01/30
Categories:
bantered, fantasy, first love, romantic,
Form:
Free verse
recklessly chaotic surrender
midway untrained assimilating
thought patterns struck by twilit
idiosyncratic contractions'
irrational heart dotted i's
of contradictory falsities,
pushing past buttoned loops
orchestrating emotional surges
coasting sideways 'twixt
high as kites' paroxysm
saw Jesus before bloom
was off rose's thornily
fumbled holy water's
bloody crucified testaments
mid looking glass passion
of hysterics death's rallies
standing on sidelines
musing boxed refrains'
hallucinated confusion,
wholly plummeting
metaphorical indulgences
nonsensically dissuading
inartistic translations
of rhetorical persuasions
forfeiting divine secrets
halfway bent chimeras,
trashing an otherwise ominous
shrill screeching revenant
expediting manifested
liquidizing bastardizations'
bantered escapism,
like belladonna and nightshade
intoxication wickedly exigent,
trilling motley eclipses of
darkly boggled gray fog nuclei
burlesquing a bohemian scaramouche
furthermost an elusive raptus seizing
rhapsodically serpentine delusions
Categories:
bantered, allegory, confusion, crazy, hyperbole,
Form:
Burlesque
Their elan and their eclat only made my ennui bloom
It made me long, made me yearn for the womb or tomb
When given carte blanche by the dilettante masses
I found my creative spirit to be lacking true passions
I pined to be a paradoxical paragon, a peculiar paradigm,
An anomaly in the cacophony, not a soldier in peacetime
I had a feeling of deja vu while they bantered and prattled
In the baroque anteroom I was illuminated yet addled
To be avant-garde, nay, prototypical, I must make them look inside
To see the truth, to eschew the ersatz, to embrace what's bona fide
Categories:
bantered, allegory, analogy, art, image,
Form:
Rhyme
Yea, victors jest. They out-sped the cast of hunger’s cave.
Their cantors, ragged kept, did reach an faithful end.
They in the din o’ drizzle laugh, licking cool drams from stone,
as had they crawled o’er hot pools bled to prod ‘n prattle.
And who’d, when quenched, a saunter risk simply to gaze at greener gray,
who if by haze be fraught, need merely fathom sky?
Lest be displeasured he to whom above could clouds be prone to tattle,
go but shy requests, voiced dryly into azure.
For so the victims passed, betrayed by breeze and snitch of brush,
though Him on High, with just demand, they had beseeched.
Each life a tale brought to lie, defaced, in scattered, muddy tomes.
Torn is the silver lace, which once linked bone to bone.
Yet risen, too, had wanton sighs, whereof his Mightiest to ask,
whilst the ground, as should it care, received the rasps.
For what doth emptiness command and what the unseen sovereign willeth
are left matters later glibly to be bantered.
Know oft’ the hunt finds one befuddled, spelled by guiles of a wraith.
No taunt of tail waves, no wake of twig gives sway.
With head to hang, his rack he gathers in a push to halt
to stand bequeathed a chide of birds and chipmunk heckles.
There, the timber rout delays with naught but mettle left to drain,
as the mars of rock and thistle mark the wait.
Chafe of paw, tongue feathered fowl, the foiled dashes stream to words,
whereto the blood, in ruddy tones, by droplets trickles.
Categories:
bantered, animal, courage, dark, death,
Form:
Sean and Bella
By Franklin Price
11/20/2015
Was on eleven/twenty
When Sean and Bella came to town
Had traveled for six hundred miles
Since nineteen's sun had gone down
They rolled into the back yard
As the clock was striking five
Were tired and quite bedraggled
But were very much alive
Was the first time that we'd seen them
As a husband and a wife
She is our daughter's oldest
He's the love within her life
Greetings and salutations
Hugs and kisses all around
The neighbor's dogs and chickens
Did not even make a sound
We all got in the kitchen
Where we bantered for awhile
Were so glad they made it
Their coming surely made us smile
Could have talked for hours
But had to let them go to bed
Sleep was calling me also
Had to clear my clouded head
They all are now still sleeping
Won't be long before they rise
They have to leave in two short days
For now, they're our burgers and our fries
Categories:
bantered, family, granddaughter, marriage,
Form:
Rhyme
I am going to admit right up front
I am not a believer in this “New World Order”
In my opinion, it is a conspiracy theory,
Devised by those who are eager to confront,
Of it, frankly, I am more than somewhat weary.
I have heard blather from right-wing extremists
As far back as 50 years ago of a super-government
Being planned by a powerful cabal of power brokers
Closely aligned with international communists
As hard to nail down as fantasies by Bram Stokers.
In truth, we already live in a global society
And nations of like politics have bonded in kind
But national sovereignty is still the prevailing view
In my way of thinking, freedom is still a priority
Though some leaders are of a different mind.
If the world ever succumbs to a “New World Order”
I shall not be around to be a part of it, I know
In any case, I can tell you it is very slow developing
As I said, 50 years ago it was bantered in the corridor
So, it is not something that has come galloping!
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written April 8, 2022
for "New World Order" poetry contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Categories:
bantered, international, perspective, philosophy, world,
Form:
Rhyme
Please help me forget
The stubborn nostalgia of a long'-gone ardor
What magical pill have me to get-
To ease up this cussed disorder?
Our sweet long-gone ardor of the days
Was as sweet as perfume of roses
And as enjoyable as ice cream in the summer days
Or need I list to you its amorous doses?
Under that canopied tree, above with intoning birds
You were tearful as you implanted the potent "I love you"
The sincerity of your face evinced the words
And my nerves they numbed like dawn dew
Don't you remember the wintry evening chill?
When you quivered against the biting weather?
Didn't my only parka cover you for a thrill?
I in cold, you in fervor but we still bantered our blather
Oh! And the Chaka tour jog!
Fool! I wanted to forget the glitzy moment
When you slipped and got stuck in the bog
Like a baby I lifted you to arms, my sheer atonement
In that silent arbor at the bell-flower garden
You nudged and I turned to your blue eyes
And there, secret ties of love were harden
With tender kisses and vows laced with cries
Can't forget those endearments close to that river
We cuddled as we vowed the fidelity of our bond
For the joy of armor we promised to be one's giver
And for our future success our dreams were fond
Uh-uh! You were a cheeky teaser baby
The day you challenged me to make a frosty dessert
And for recipe you could beguile me, maybe!
But didn't I unearth your tricks that made you assert
Oh baby there were much we did
But need I list these your scraps that are olden?
Out of your mind these fond memories are rid
Even by their ecstasies you're never embolden
Now let me beg for that magical spell
To forget like you and settle at last
For in my own bearings I wish to dwell
Please help me too to forget our past.
Categories:
bantered, break up, divorce, i
Form:
Rhyme
There are five stages of grief my Shrink told me.
I did them out of order, thanks to my chronic ADD.
Denial was suppose to be the first stage,
but Bargaining is what I did.
I bantered with my inner self for days,
placing unrealistic bets and bids.
Anger is said to be next,
but Denial is what appeared.
My situation was too perplex
I wanted it to disappear.
Acceptance took Bargaining's place,
I embraced my defeat.
I bowed down from my losing race,
not wanting a repeat.
Anger transpired instead of being sad.
Depression didn't come like I was told.
Sounds cliche, but I was boiling mad,
I saw red, and lost control.
Acceptance was not what I felt last,
Depression was the unaltered state I was in.
Melancholy was my final forecast
of Griefs ultimate tailspin.
Categories:
bantered, grief,
Form:
Rhyme
How many times does it take,
Before death isn't seen?
Where this wave of rampant shootings,
Will open minds that can convene.
This basic legal premise, has
Evolved with little in its wake.
As states control its usage,
While a nation suffers heartache.
There's no simplicity to an answer,
Only a convoluted complexity all around.
With a range of, 'more is better' to
'Less is needed', to keep all safe & sound.
While its constitutionality is firmly entrenched,
Can ownership be somehow reserved?
Where common sense won't trample the NRA,
And they can live with those most deserved.
Because if we look at the simple facts, this
Powerful group cares nothing of law, only sales.
While manufacturing the love of the 2nd amendment,
With little time spent on murderous details.
So what solutions are possibly out there,
That may aid in this time of distress?
Such that real progress can be seen & measured,
And senseless killings become truly, far less.
Causal roots have been unearthed & discovered,
Yet rarely acted upon with a firm resolve.
As time tends to add to forgetfulness, and
Other distractions add more to dissolve.
So it is here I'll propose some ideas, where
Common sense is the road to be used.
With a goal of increased security, while
Liabilities can be reduced and recused.
Starting with age as a common thread, the
Age of 18 or 21 is constantly bantered about.
My thoughts involve complete licensing,
Certifying their competency to own, with less doubt.
Secondly, the securing of these weapons needs to be
Addressed, so they're not lent or stolen, back & forth.
And with bio-metrics to add responsibility,
This can lessen those fears, south to north.
There are surely more ideas that can be
Discussed, and lead to compromise.
Then maybe some actions would help to insure,
That lives were saved, in those youthful eyes.
Categories:
bantered, grief, murder,
Form:
Narrative
It is the eve of November
fall harvests gathered and stored away
All Hallows eve
and the gray black wisps of clouds
stretch across a brilliant white setting sun.
EEiry images trace faint spewed tracks in the sky
and hovering in ominous flight below
black shadow crows cry out and caw aloud.
Burly squirrels dig furiously
burying acorns beneath dried leaves
then wave their tails in bantered chit chat.
October bows its head
swooping low in a false curtsy
welcoming the winter cold.
Categories:
bantered, november, winter,
Form:
Blitz
I recanted ever knowing Love's quotient,
Over me had Cupid never distilled Love's potion,
My staid lips never bantered Love's discourse,
While stoic mindset made terms of endearment no recourse.
My posture belied that of a court jester,
And sensory images could not my emotions' sequester.
Desire, passion's impulse, became a muted feeling;
And Hope, residing in Despair's harbor, offered little healing.
Categories:
bantered, lost love
Form: