Best Beat Out Poems
In dream lone blackbird sits on telephone line,
pleading, what more do I have to give.
Wing once beat out a metronome in time..
leaving thoughts lost through a sieve.
I swore to rebuild our earthen dam,
and hold the waters at bay.
Your dream found a different plan,
left nothing more to say.
Race, now long finished, deemed total loss..,
left my prideful soul entreating.
Waste heart's song diminished, too high the cost,
ask why the day so fleeting.
Last candle's light gleamed in his glowering gaze,
Write journal'd fate, no answer would he belie,
September's temper teamed in shortened days,
to kiss late remember'd lips good-bye.
You think me silly and verbose
When love is on my mind…
Fickle fickle full of fluff
Love sick, crazy, blind
Deviant...defiant
Sexually overcharged
Big picture oblivious
And from your life discharged
You read my lines and smirk a while
And think, “Oh dear, Hee Hee!”
But when it comes right down to it
You wish you were like me (Women)
You'd jump in bed with me (men)
It might have a one track mind
But of that I am glad
Life has enough to bring me down
Enough to make me sad
I write of love and passion
And feelings so sublime
You don’t need to read me
Nor be a friend of mine!
But of this I am certain
Of this I’m ever proud
Passion is my heartbeat
l let it beat OUT LOUD!
If you don’t like sultry
Want nature writes and such
There’s someone else to read
So, thank you very much!
Eileen
Started on this poem some time ago, but left it unfinished. Not in the mood for something new, so I picked this one up and finished it. I don't JUST write about passion and romance and love, but....it is what I love best. I've accepted who I am and I will fight to preserve my identity. I'm tired of a world of people who are judgmental and stuffy....people who don't know how to FEEL and CELEBRATE passion. Thanks for reading.
[NOTE:This is just a bit of silly fun]
Beat out this rhythm baby,
You can surely do it baby,
Beat out this rhythm to the clock!
Beat out this rhythm baby,
There’s no room in it, for maybe,
Do it, with a goofball in a sock!
There, is no room for error,
We can pull this off together,
Beat out our rhythm with your sock!
If you feel you cannot play,
Try it out, another day,
Our rhythm will, never cease to shock!
So:
Beat out our rhythm baby,
There’s no room in here for maybe,
Never mind those people who will mock!
Beat out the rhythm baby,
Do it like your acting crazy,
Smash up everything that’s in the shop!
The ladder backed pecker,
like a prison uniform.
Caught-up in exposing
the truth beneath the bark,
of the poet's apple tree.
We prefer ourself in spring;
with tiny little flowers,
and the fruit of possibility.
Yet, if not for the woodpecker,
tapping holes into poems,
we might not ever see
the flesh and blood of raw meat.
I will climb that ladder back,
escape pre-decreed standards.
Tap into that syrupy mixture
and suck-out truth from hard wood.
Yes, lessons from a jail bird.
A pest in the Avian Kingdom.
Wisdom from the little rebel,
beat-out of a tree.
Love plays different melodies..
Music to which lovers respond..
Instrumental, is the harp,
the flute, and the drum.
Listen with your ears, for
your heart may skip a beat
.
Listen with your eyes,eyes will
always see.
Hear with your whole being,
the melody of love.
The Drum will beat out
warnings..
As the harp beckons
to you,.."come"!!
The flute will calm a
distressed soul...
But only the melody of unity
can strike that blessed chord.
Unity and passion can
fulfill the empty soul.
While the melody of love
unheard, is sad.
Opened ears will make songs glad....
When we move our feet together,
our hearts will dance in unison
If we hear love’s melody
with unguarded hearts -
To the love we shall sub-come.
We contemplate the music
of loves sweet refrain.
Together we make music
of melodious adoration,
As our creator's love
has no limitations.
You whistle the same
bars and measures.
As I lay and calmly hum.
We be tuned as one-
We become
as a symphony,
to which our
heartstrings strum.
There are certain people
who appear to be normal on the outside
like the have it all together.
To me, these people remind me of walking statues,
that walk around wearing these big genuine
ridiculous phony smiles.
Once you go beneath the surface,
its a whole different world,
where silence is mostly spoken.
And when you're in their presence
which,you'll never know when,
or,where that will be.
So you must always stay on guard
because,they're very observant,
and,very crafty in choosing their words wisely,
in order not to be detected.
And whatever you say,
or do,might come back
and haunt you.
But,this'll all depend
on how conduct yourself.
At the same time
while you're desperately walk on eggshells
trying not to slip up.
Insanity slowly begins its journey
into your mind,
torturing you with every passing second,
causing extreme sweating and
making your heart beat out of control.
And as long as you let them see your weakness,
they will continue to torture you with their fakness .
I have noticed her for weeks now,
this same coffee shop,
the same table, the same time each day
I am taken by her beauty, the way she smiles
and sips her coffee, Irish cream I believe,
reading her iPad intently, enjoying herself it seems
I have found myself daydreaming about her,
her wonderful brown hair, not really knowing what
has come over me, there is just something about her
I have wanted to approach her, but I’m not sure how
So I decided today that I would write a poem on one of these napkins
and leave it on the table before she walks in, hoping she finds it
This is what I wrote:
Far of lonely breaths I breathe
Upon yon smile enchanting so
O’er these moments to believe
Gazing soft enchanting aglow
Of this chance I long to feel
Soft the touch of feathered lips
For my love can not conceal
in the brush of fingertips
Take these words which I have penned
‘pon this napkin meant for you
Keep them close as they do send
My poetic feelings true
It’s almost time, here she comes…
My god she is beautiful, I can feel my heart racing,
it is about to beat out of my chest, I’m shaking
She sits down and takes a sip of coffee, turns on her ipad…
come on…it’s right there, in front, wait, she sees it, she sees the poem
She is reading it and that gorgeous smile appears again
Scanning the shop, she notices me watching, smiling at her
Nodding at me she folds the napkin and places it in her purse
then motions for me to join her, my nerves are going crazy
‘Hi, did you write this poem for me?” she asks. “I did,” I answer
“I love it, it is so beautiful.” Then she removes a napkin from her purse
and hands it to me “I wrote this for you.” She says and I am at a loss for words
She has handed me the most beautiful poem I have ever seen
and then whispers, “I have noticed you for weeks, the same table,
the same time…I just didn’t know how to approach you, so I…”
Aristotle, who once said, “A flatterer is a friend,
Who is your inferior, or pretends to be so.”
Magician or not, the appraisal we try to defend,
Veneer covered ready, prepare for the overthrow.
And a splint named psychology supports nowt,
Tender are the suspicions, a tourniquet gripped,
That of emotion, a trend compared with doubt,
And complacency set amongst the less equipped.
Human form takes shape of Copernican theory,
Between each other, is the central perspective
Years ahead in terms of mind, yet still we query.
Remaining wary, they’ve listened so corrective.
A glimmer of paradise from that which destined
More positive than rightful, for instance, must,
Be seen as most probable, avoiding a rescind
Of harmonies that quaver a motion. Well, just!
And the motion we speak of, like a whisper,
Eases the tension between people who feather,
The hearing sensation shall understand crisper
Torn between plusses and negatives; whether!
The flatterer is found as the darkest seclusion,
Reflection of them is the question of mystery
A misty environment that forms that illusion
Chronically synchronized a challenge to history,
To beat out the drum of intention, as constant
A theory relating to trust involving apple trees
Has a Newtonian law which shall transplant,
Gravity, attached friends upon a breeze.
In feather-like spirit, the meadow may drift
An illusion that folds from the first dew morn,
With goose bumps that wrinkle a wary shift
Trusts! Where the sugar sweet mentions are born.
That’s what friends are Law, children at heart,
Make-believe portfolios of whimsical worth,
Fasten the button on jumpers, and bonnet apart
When blue summer dye creates umber for earth.
Perceived as a coward on grass that’s not green,
Glass, not a ruby, when trust solves the riddle,
To finish this mantra this causes serene,
Convinced like a Titan’s romance of the fiddle.
Oh! Zeus, need we flutter the discord to ride
The twirls of Hyperion, who teaches the master,
To dance like an ocean and swirl like the tide,
As trust gains momentums avoid the disaster.
This is two parter. The first dealing with the abuse of the mother. The second part is about her child, growing up in care
The Girl, Part 1
A foetus from a mother’s womb
Prematurely born too soon
Due to punches, slaps and kicks
Delivered fast with fury, quick
By a man, in drunken rage
Who thumped a stomach, broke ribcage
Of mother who could not defend
Against the rage which knew no end.
Unbridled ire he launched against
A woman who had had the sense,
And also child beat out from her
By angry, savage, saboteur
N.L.G
The Girl. Part 2
She never stood a chance, the girl
A chance she never stood
At seven months, born premature
Kicked out of womb with foot;
By father laced in alcohol
Belligerent and vile,
Who spared no rod nor pulled his punch
On women he defiled
She never stood a chance, the girl
A chance she never stood
In Children’s homes and foster care
she lived through her childhood
Attachments never formed for her
No bonds or pledges made
By people charged to care for her
Just sorrow and dismay
She never stood a chance, the girl
A chance she never stood
No opportunities for her
They thought she’d do no good
Passed from pillar then to post,
And then passed back again
She never stood a chance the girl
For her no sweet refrains
She never stood a chance, the girl
A chance she never stood
Poverty for her assured
It ran through lines in blood
No song with lifting melodies
Would underscore her life
Just beats reigned down from angry fists
And chorus sung with strife
She never stood a chance the, girl
A chance she never stood
Disordered personality
Consultants diagnosed
Anxiety, depression
Heightened lows and lofty highs
Mental health became her norm
Well, should we wonder why?
N.L.G
The deception of “free verse”: Dreams II, Translation of Etiemble’s “L’imposture du vers libre” by T. Wignesan
“Free verse, free not to be verse” – Audiberti
My love is not blue like a lake
my love is not blue like a sky
but red swollen with blood
and of ire
No lapping sounds of oars
playing out a nocturne
Bienne lake or that of Bourget
ever beat out the loping of my heart
My love’s neither blue nor like a lake
nor like a sea of oil
In the cauldron of boiling oil
a witch throws in a thumb
and the formula
My witching love
sputters and bursts out
stinging these busts and this lip
red
Vehement like a she-demon
it dances in a mad whirl
My left temple
wails
with the furious ocean
which rumbles under my pillow
What ships wreck in this sunken heart
still bleeding
of all the hearts it peeled
bleeding bodies of the young girl
And this heart weeps over its deaths
Like those on All Souls’ Day
the old hoary woman weeping
twisted up into wailing somersaults
which pad the cries of skeletons
clinging to rapacious granite
My heart beating on the pillow
muffles the voice of the friend
which begged the evening gone by
“Tell me it’s not over yet!”
And like the ocean cowardly
I collapse into my bed
to better listen to the tolling
of my temples and my heart
a delusionary
song of joy.
Signed: Jean Louverné (pseudonym)
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2014 (Translation
You might have thought it was her
But you couldn’t be more wrong
She held a place in my heart once
But not nearly as long
I think you question my intentions
But this ain’t meant for fun
How’s it feel to hear me say
You’ve always been the one
You’ve always been the one
Since I’ve seen that pretty smile
You’ve beat out all the others
By a country mile
We may have went our own ways
But to us we’ve always come
So how’s it feel to hear...
You’ve always been the one
One and one makes two
And we both know it’s true
In this life you’re the blessing
I’ve always turned to
I have no plans on leaving
And before our lives are done
Let me know how it feels....
To know you’ve always been the one
You’ve always been the one
Since I’ve seen that perfect smile
You’ve beat out all the others
By a country mile
We may have gone our own ways
But back to us we’ve always come
So how’s it feel for you to hear...
You’ve always been the one
Our souls haven’t let go
Our hearts still find the time
To reach out for the other
Knowing we can find
What should be isn’t far away
Some day we’ll live the life
Of loving on each other....
When darkness finds the light
I hope someday you’ll hear my voice say
You’ve always been the one
Backyard Vacation
(Country, male vocal, speed/tempo in vein of Zac Brown Band's "Knee Deep" w/Jimmy Buffet)
When life’s hurdles got ya goin’
Around in circles without you knowin’
And it seems they’ll never end
I take a walk in my backyard
I like that it’s so large
There I look around and take it all in
Sometimes life feels strained
It shows us joy and sometimes pain
I’m here to tell ya a backyard can explain..
That just for a few minutes
So long as a hammock’s in it
Life’s trials can’t ever beat out a sunny day
I’m lucky got a few nice acres
Trees and a pond from our good lord maker
I’m thinkin’ it’s funny how it got this way
As I take in the view
And tell myself don’t be a fool
This feeling is what you never want to go away
Sometimes life feels strained
It shows us joy and sometimes pain
I’m here to tell ya a backyard can explain..
That just for a few minutes
So long as a hammock is in it
Life’s trials can’t ever beat out a sunny day
The beauty you’ll see offers a hedge
Like a tree’s reflection against the water’s edge
It’s a paintin’ you can see in your mind
It’s all a gift so enjoy the tryin’
Sometimes life feels strained
It shows us joy and sometimes pain
I’m here to tell ya a backyard can explain..
That just for a few minutes
So long as a hammock’s in it
Life’s trials can’t ever beat out a sunny day
Can’t ever beat out a sunny day..
(This is a fictional poem)
When my friend and I went deer hunting, I accidentally shot a doe.
If you're wondering if I got away with it, the answer is no.
It was a bad day for me to lose my glasses.
The game warden saw us and he kicked our _____.
We got the crap beat out of us even though it was two against one.
After beating us to a bloody pulp, he put a second hole in our butts with my gun.
We had to sleep on our stomachs for weeks, it was terrible to go through.
We went through all of that misery and we didn't even get some damn venison
stew.
There you are again out making your loud noise
Who do you think you are? You think you’re a big star?
Driving your beat out pimp car and scouting for young boys
You cannot shine, you have no heart you have no soul
Lost in in your mind, weaving your lies inside a black hole
I am happy you are gone I don’t need you, don’t need hate
Maybe if you sobered up but I believe it is far too late
You’re trapped in your delusional lies where you lie in wait
Out digging for worms and maggots of men for toys
You are the ***** when was the last time your child ate
Blaming everyone else for all your failures; pathetic mistakes
Hiding away with a look of greed on your face like a scar
Made out of the lives you ruin driving your beat out pimp car
Making some more hot money the same way again and again
Going to bars to play and licking for pay in the rooms for men
So happy you are gone I don’t need you, I don’t need hate
Keep on driving away go out again making your loud noise
I can’t hear you anymore from the screams of young boys
In the darkness where you are stoned drunk scratching your itch
Everyone who knows you, knows that you really are the *****
Ripples of blue and silver dance
impala males jump and prance
In a land where imagination roams to and fro
and the waters of old eb and flows
Dust holds memories from near and far
The sky, escarpment, and water beat out a rhythm of
The dreams of many, the thoughts of a few,
ZAMBEZI, O MIGHT OF THE SOUTHERN HINTER LANDS OF AFRICA
GIVING AND TAKING. YOUR PRIDE IN LIFE IS LIVED
YOUR COURSE DIRECTED BY THE THINGER OF THE MASTER DESIGNER
FORCE AND STRENGTH BOW BEFORE HIS MIGHTY HAND
Deep is the current and long is the stride of Him who taught you as a child O ZAMBEZI,
where your banks and streams will go.
Were you there at the beginning?
To see His plan, hear His words, savor His counsel.
Take heed to give life as He has given you so much life.
The sound of life echoes long and hard through this valley below the falls and the open sea.
Elephants, hippos, and lions create and compose an elegant cacophony.
Animals play on the banks,Birds dance on the wind.
The escapement sits and watches. Ever still, but never stagnate
Mana Pools, place of meaning. Where water parted mountains a mellinia ago.
Escarpments looking north and south, watching, waiting, guarding.
Life here moves at leisure, no race.
The life of hustle and bustle has no place.
In a way, even time and space seem pleasantly married together
So whether you a travel from far or near, they meet you and greet you and treat you.
Here on the flood plains.
Where a recollection of memories are locked away in the safe of sentimentally.
To a feast of the soul, spirit, mind, and body.
Where you can relax and let worry be forgotten.