Best Barometer Poems
I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a
poetic practical pompous, pro (p) ransomedramatical postenses
pretending to prose promise a
predictive premise primatory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumultuous tillo tales of tawdry
banal blog lists calling me to quali-quantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a
breach bridgeborn badge billed
barometer bearing broad billboard
catatonic catashrospies creating caustic crill
coffinistic coiffures canonizing
socio unsettling leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid livid liquiditoria regal
ransom based regalia resonating
rawbone residual retinal real time
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew
mold molecular mamsy-pamsy sillopsuedo master of
ever me present I , me , mine, maestro
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u
me us our belief sem radical of our prim-ordeal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant mean fullness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit everpresent to keep the fecal faces free of
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place.
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting.
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly nodding to the primo positive
practitudes of acoustic ancillary annotated awareness, allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willfully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it,
share it, beware it, con-cure it, it. Know it it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and will its it and
ego ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its
illogical inness so mad made as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.
Dogwood,jasmine,marram grass
In flower ,as pressure fills the barometer glass;
Evening primrose in scented bloom
Fill Autumn with pungent perfume.
Sycamore seeds twirl and twist
Onto a fairy-ring fungus tryst;
Stink horn capped with slime,
As carrion beetles pass the time.
Bramblings feast on bountiful mast ,
As the Autumnal harvest dwindles fast;
Yellowed leaves drift and decompose
Into next year's cellulose.
Winter migrants with welcome calls
As the Indian Summer falters,and falls;
Nature's tempo tarries,then slows
As all creation begins to doze.
&fog forms ,at the close of day.
Love scale from one to ten on a barometer
is difficult to measure
A little rainfall can evaporate
The climate is changing and so does love
Real love should endure most things
Life does not just consist of sunshine days
Rain and wind, it comes and goes
Days off darkness and gloom
Lower your shoulders, love gives warmth and light
Snow and biting cold, no one likes to freeze on their toes
We will experience lightning and thunder ... even though we
prefer the sun and the heat
Respect, patience and tolerance - is love
A part of the interaction ... of the whole
We must learn to appreciate the sight of a beautiful rainbow ...
Together we are two ... this is a basic L
O
V
E
14.01.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poetry Contest
"Your Interpretation of What Love Is"
Sponsored by: Bobby May
1st place in the contest
- P.O.T.W. - 20.01.2019 -
Our Human Nature
A real aspect always part of a person’s life;
One that can bear fangs and pangs of strife.
A living barometer replete with its choices;
Leaving each of us puzzled, full of voices.
It prays on our very emotions and naiveté,
Leaving us at times in moments of disarray.
Man by his nature is fickle and imperfect.
God by His nature is divine and perfect.
A person’s decency is so wonderful to tell;
Another’s depravity is so worthy of Hell!
A person’s good deeds mark now his true measure,
Bringing him God’s divine love always to treasure!
Never trust what you can’t feel deep in your heart;
This makes us divine in God’s eyes—sets us apart!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(January 5, 2016) (Rhymed Couplet)
The phantoms collide
with your seeds of sobriety...
Their cackle intensifies
(barometer of your successes).
The golden brook is within your reach
at your denim fingertips.
So, reach, dear one, reach.
Like a star searching for its sweet burning heart.
Full of life and the living sweetness.
Fight on and fight hard
swing your roses at the sword
You're not alone, you never were.
That bird in the clearing sings your victory song.
Reach for it through the briar
I'll meet you in the center.
In the bowel of the storm
and kiss away the blood of your battles.
Wood Hills Creek
All is quaintly quiet on Wood Hills Creek
The day after Christmas a silence unique
No shaking hands or exchanging of smiles
Only symmetrical snow as it pleasantly piles
All is fractal frost on Wood Hills Creek
The air chilled and damp a barometer bleak
No warming of hands and hearts left cold
For Christmas is over now back to the old
All is blasphemy bitter on Wood Hills Creek
With shivering silences no words they speak
Goodwill toward man nowhere to be found
Only merchant materials that keep us bound
All is lamentingly lost on Wood Hills Creek
As greed gracefully falls a morphic mystique
The Spirit of Father Christmas left far behind
Until next year...just one day...to be kind.
Dec.21.2016
The Day After Christmas - Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays...
When you realize it, nothing is funny.
Not every day in the business world is sunny.
Stormy weather comes when the barometer falls.
There can be gale force winds to knock down walls.
For days like this, stash some cash away.
Have money available for a rainy day.
Inspired by another member's poem
A snow-white deer was downed by a hunter.
A once-in-a-lifetime trophy, he boasted.
Some folks were crimson pissed
because a snow-white deer is very rare,
a sign of good things to come.
An antlered angel... wearing a message
a reminder that God is still present,
still looking after- picking up
after
us.
From the edge of our acid cloud, sludge streams
burning forest of Dali dreams.
Waiting for the perfect time.
The perfect time
to float above the clearing.
To cleanse
To whisper "there are still miracles-miracles abound.
There's still time to turn negativities into lacy dreams.
Knead bullets into butterflies and mustard seeds.
Spin the planet back from black to aquamarine".
To the hunter, it was just a leaping piece of meat
to be silenced-d- skinned- devoured displayed...
owned.
Now the planet people want to bow the hunter down
You know, nail his polyester neck to a forest tree
Perhaps the white deer was a test.
God's barometer, to see where our soul is really at...
Imagine what life would be like
if our worth were determine by man
if our mistakes were a barometer of our worth
our favour would run hot and cold
like a see-saw through each day
each breathe we took would be a struggle
the one thing we do without thinking
would be so difficult to achieve
but we've been blessed beyond our imagination
because even in our darkest hour
even when we are down in the valley
God sees our worth
His Son chose to die for us
He declared; she is worth the sacrifice
He declared; he is worth the sacrifice
when in doubt,
when we feel unloved
we need to focus on the cross
God thought we were worth the sacrifice then
He still does; even today
©135827032013
Pumpkin King; hear you wheeze.
Open lungs as light as leaves.
Oh; Great pumpkin; long-time wait.
Coming closer brings my fate.
Barometer up above my ears.
Hollow ground will add to fears.
Pumpkin patch about my feet.
Will you rise up and bring my treat.
Oh; Great Pumpkin hear my prayers
Bring my candy and hide my terrors.
Fill my pillowcase till it flows
till Halloween - The Great Pumpkin shows.
Her fireflies eyes ,
Melted my heart of stone and turned it into dust ,
Dust carried by the wing of the wind
from desert sand of the Sahara makes
my heart buried deep into Mole’s habitat ,
My strength and zeal left death in me and vanish ,
In dark alleys , I wonder and ponder ;
When will I be free and be an eagle that flies
unhindered by the wind and weather of the coast ?.
Her Sun ray gaze makes
My lion heart to be weakened and
fluctuates like aneroid barometer,
My barometer heart reads higher than my body temperature,
which makes my stallion being to desire her more ,
Her beauty put the ball into my goal post;
Which I couldn’t stop ; free assess ; free captivity !,
A golden goal scored by a fast and deadly striker ,
When would my Moses’ will be able to
overcome her ester’s beauty ?.
9-21-2018
CONTEST: Verses Metaphor II, Free Verse -sponsored by Laura Loo .
Red Wall
Give they money and ask me to bring
Some tools, tables, chairs or ladders
Near to the red wall with fine pieces of art
To lift up those who are short
To make them strong they are required food
And to make them healthy who are weak we required medicine
And a request is sent to the trainers to train people who are unskilled
A teacher is also brought to them to enhance their learning
Pneumonic science is also applied
So that they can hone their capacity of memory
The money supplied I do not spend on anything
Neither is the money for my consummation
I am provided to give them coaching and means cum merit scholarship
Rest of the money is spent as dole just to make them financially sound
As some competitors happen to be super rich
As there could not be any contest
Between poor and rich
Between strong and weak
Neither could be any race between taller and who is short
This is very unfair rather it’s a complete lie
To ask all to compete among the unequal
As alone freedom and equity or equality won’t work
So I place my bricks below the feet of them who are not having well height
To give them equal footing, a platform of equal length and width
Rays of the same brightness with same angel
Rain of the same quantity and quality
Same barometer of the wind pressure
If I do not forget to mention the same humidity and temperature
To do justice to all with unbiased mind and attitude
As mere freedom or mere equality I believe is a trick played
By the of people who have upper hand in the society
Next I give them some of my inspirational poems
To have them all same level of psychological boost
All are now on the same height
On the same line with same length, width and breadth
The area or angel of them is no different
I believe to think all out and all round justice is done
Secretly I blow the whistle
Everyone is free to see their goal prancing like a colt
From now on and without any obstruction
Let them all view their finishing lines which lie over the red wall
TIME - PATIENT HUSBAND
Time and tide for no man are stopping
But time can slow fast when she’s shopping
A one-dress day is mighty long
And a two-dress day is even longer
A pair of shoes day is longest of all
Patience for hair and manicure must be strong
For four perfume testers even stronger
New earrings - strongest of all
And my time-field is suffering cropping
As the time-barometer continues dropping
Monday means rise and shine,
get out of bed and be at work on time,
it's a day some consider makes them blue
when full of stress and crying too.
Tuesday gives us our second wind,
makes up for the tiring day before
as we hustle our bustle throughout the day,
relieved when we are headed home as we pray.
Wednesday is over-the-hump part of the week,
catching up with thoughts that were filed
within the cobwebs of our busy minds galore,
remembering to pick up a frozen pizza at the store.
Thursday is inching closer to the weekend,
a wormy sort of day taking forever to end,
as it progresses on the clock of slow motion
wanting to give it a shot of magic potion.
Friday is the barometer measuring the week,
working each day makes some feel in the pink,
watching the clock until closing time
knowing we earned every dime.
Saturday means sleeping in late,
alarms are not set to get us out of bed,
eating a leisurely breakfast is a treat,
pancakes and coffee can't be beat.
Sunday is the end of the week,
a day of worship and singing hymns,
afterward a dinner at home sweet home,
then a nap to end this very long poem.
O' da' Christmas clock is a tickin'
O' and da' weather is now a kickin'
O' barometer in a hot cold form
O' tomorrow da' weather will be warm
O' in case temp-a-choor be reading hot
O' cling 2' a cool hot spot
O' in case temp-a-choor be reading cold
O' cling 2' a hot cool a·bode
O' in case temp-a-choor be reading warm
O' cling 2' a hot cold integrated storm