Best Becomes Poems
Barefoot we spend our time in spring,
Just giggling kids - how sweet the dream
When we, in love are blossoming.
We splash inside a cool fresh stream.
Our time in spring - how sweet the dream!
A few years pass; there comes an ache
for something more in summertime.
We feel such heat! Down by the lake
we soothe our ache. It is sublime
down by the lake in summertime!
Refrain:
Love is a stream, and then it grows.
A river soon - through life it flows!
And two enduring to the end
see love become an ocean then!
A rushing river, wanting more,
through highs and lows, still so in love,
we roll down to the ocean’s shore
where memories we’ve plenty of!
We stroll fall’s shore, still so in love.
An ocean of devotion lies
ahead of us – deep like the sea.
Our souls live on; the greatest prize -
to share out love eternally!
Oh winter’s love, deep like the sea
Refrain: Love is a stream, and then it grows
A river soon, through life it flows!
And two enduring to the end
see love becomes an ocean then!
Looking close at the blank canvas.
Impressions he wanted displayed.
Stroking slow and pressing his brush
an image came forth from Monet.
Laying dormant all of Her life.
Her moment in time had arrived.
The feelings She felt from within,
were delicate strokes, brushed by him.
They were gentle and soft to feel,
and made his love all the more real.
She was sad to feel him finish,
as Her tears fell and relinquished.
He assured her he'd never leave,
and in Her Heart She felt so pleased.
In completion of Her He saw,
His Masterpiece hung on His wall.
Michael Tor
I asked my Lord Jesus
to help in writing.
Inspired by my late
father Rene, a hobby
Painter and Sculpturer.
Also inspired by John
Watt and his PoemThat
Starry Night a Poem
about Vincent Van Gogh.
The sun is the sun
It rises we run
When it turns the nighttime to day
It's hot when it's cold
And never grows old
As our time slips quickly away
The sun remains the sun
The wind is the wind
It lays and it spins
And on, occasion will rage
Be it warm, be it chilled
Whether gusty or stilled
It changes from page to page
The wind is still the wind
The seas are the seas
Just water no trees
Yet harboring life below
They rise and they fall
But nothing forestalls
Their predictable to and fro
The seas are the seas
We think we see change
Ordinary looks strange
Perhaps, something new has begun
In the grandest of schemes
We're all chasing dreams
There's nothing new under the sun.
By Daniel Turner
5/7/2021
This is my interpretation of
Ecclesiastes Chapter 1 verse 9
...what has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again
there is nothing new under the sun.
~
A lone mist drifts in feathered shadows
where footprints are soft neath a robin egg sky
Hushed sentiments flow on cool morning breezes
as dreams bask in the light of dawn’s shining,
heaven sent beams caressing our skin
The warmth of a new day embraces us,
sitting quietly on the veranda, two cups shared
with tender glances and sweet kisses as I drink
in your beauty among blooming hibiscus and
hummingbird whispers seeking the nectar of our love
Morning glories yawn in watercolor brush strokes,
painting the landscape in Monet swept patterns
while effervescent dragonflies hover nearby
I take your hand and tell you I love you and
watch as your smile becomes my morning . . .
your love becomes my life
~
I took umbrage over a comment in a current blog, in part stating that poetry, "... is a battlefield..." No. There should be no gauntlets thrown, no darts hurled, and no negative words hurled as if Poetry Soup is a battlefield. I was motivated to write...
Over and over again, blogs become a wallowing hole
where ugliness brews contempt and always takes a toll
on those who are trying to make a simple observation.
Someone takes offense and that provokes confrontation
by a tadpole who'll be a frog and not Prince Charming.
Ya know... the narcissistic type who think it's alarming
that they're ideas are not accepted by others on the site.
Then, it's "Katie, bar the door" and get ready for a fight!
Pollywogs keep swimming in rippling waters of the Soup,
where they take a dump, but don't think of it as 'Poop.'
Blogs are sandboxes where nasty words become litter.
Catty remarks are made by the arrogant and the bitter.
Not surprising, the same ones cut up with their mocking.
It's the same MO they use when they come a knocking...
knocking on new blog doors and causing a ruckus inside.
That's crossing a line that no one should ever take in stride.
Some abuse blogs, as if they're churches or synagogues.
If any part of Poetry Soup should go, it should be the Blogs.
Not as some redundantly claim, should be poetry contests...
Objected to by rallying sponsors and poets in fervid protests.
Blogs serve as playgrounds but break all schoolyard rules
when some can't stop themselves from acting like fools.
There's fighting and tugs of war... never for a good cause.
Gettin' tough over trivial stuff puts a pinch in their drawers.
For gosh sake, act like adults instead of flakes and nuts.
There's never and excuse for acting like a rattlepated putz.
A bee drags through glass—
soundless, just the pane
tearing, like a caul.
Belief becomes the thorn.
I asked Him once. He turned His back.
The leaves fell —
( The poem is based on the biographical details with quotes of Lord Byron the renaissance poet. The poem is Stand By Me appeal to the criticism of Byron being an outspoken, atheist and passionate poet)
By accident his left leg was twisted
Mary nursed it though he resisted.
A day came when Mary died and
Her dying words about him were at the end
“All for the love of the child, she nursed in lieu”
He said then, “I can put on a simple shoe”
He asked himself, “Why should I weep?
Her matchless spirit sweeps
In the shade of her bower
I remember the hours
We shall meet
In this rural retreat
Now we will see each other no more
One last look what we were before”
Pleasure became a pain to him
At the sight of people’s screams.
+++
January 21, 2015
Form: Rhyme
Fifth Place win
Contest: Stand By Me
I once knew a poet named Cecile
Call her skinny and hear her spiel
I'm petite with small bones
I have fat and rolls she groans
If I called you names how'd you feel
So she decided things had to change
Lifting weights at first felt strange
Her trainer pushed gently
Encouraged intently
Her life she happily rearranged
Now building bone density and power
Her muscles sprouting like a flower
Strength is now her friend
Workouts are now her trend
It takes discipline and willpower
No longer thin rather lean and fit
Liking the changes she does admit
Active body and mind
Healthy diet combined
This lifestyle she'll never quit
06/01/2016
*I been working out for 6 months now : )
A girl around 13, sitting at a kitchen table of the home where she baby sits,
is waiting for the woman of the house to finish getting ready to leave.
She is startled by two brazen hands coming surreptitiously from behind her,
fingers and thumbs beginning to gently squeeze her prepubescent breasts.
Frightened and aghast, the young girl stays transfixed and says nothing.
The man’s wife calls out to her husband, and the fondling abruptly ceases.
The girl knows something is wrong, but she doesn’t want to give up the babysitting.
She enjoys the children and likes earning money on her own.
All she can do is fervently and silently hope the incident will not reoccur
as she continues, on and off, to watch the children of that disgusting man.
The girl’s mind and body mature; by age 17, she is coming into her own.
She has been reading, watching, experiencing, and . . . . learning.
Once again, in those later years, she has the occasion to watch the children
of that man whose invading hands had long ago so repulsed her!
As he drives her home late at night, he reaches out for breasts now much larger.
The girl is waiting for it. Shaking inside, she summons up her small bit of courage.
Pushing his hands away, she calmly but assertively declares:
“Leave me alone. You can never do that to me again.” She now realizes
there are not always others that can help you. No longer a scared little girl,
she's a woman who can take care of herself. I know because that girl was me.
For the TRUE Meaning of Being Adult Poetry Contest of F J Thomas
One day, the boy becomes a man
When it happens he hardly knows,
It seems to have been a noble plan
Some say that’s just how it goes.
For oft he’d heard, “Boy, grow up!”
Followed by this, “Act like a man!”
First, he noticed a strange hiccup
Then, he sounded like a frogman.
He outgrew all of his favorite jeans.
They said he was all legs and arms
Fast approaching his middle teens
Other signs set off anxious alarms.
He began formulating his life plan
And making decisions on his own,
He becomes certain that he’s a man
When he takes out his first car loan.
Written August 5, 2022
There, on a sill of contentious decisions
Glass shards sit waiting a wavering hand
Reflective the memories wrapped ‘round the curtains
Lost in a pane that she can’t understand
Chilled calls the breeze through a jagged eviction
Scenting the air neath a ceiling now stained
Dampening dreams behind oven doors gaping
Finding the pilot light has not complained
Ripping out pages of scribbled delusions
Day becomes night in the depths of her mind
Chasing the echoes when no one will answer
Begging each shadow for something to find
Setting a table of rounded persuasions
Watching fluorescents fade fast in her eyes
Turning the knob towards a sorrowed direction
Why is there none who react to her cries
Loneliness peels back the layered condition
Voices of reason have fled to her past
Fearing the worst will come visit tomorrow
Sensing the hour shall now be her last
So many days and the roses need pruning
Nary a movement is noticed inside
Caught in his thoughts that her words had intentions
If only those moments ignored would confide
Desperate ink found in fingertip writings
Penned by the demons left roaming her head
Still haunts the question of fear never listened
Death becomes art in the stanzas unread
The day your pen becomes your past
laid to rest and held its last
shall mark the day my heart is sure
of Silent ache to then endure
The memory of every stroke
echoed in the lines you wrote
engraved remains our history
our life, our love, our legacy
What, you ask, becomes of me?
Of all the love that came to be?
Every word you ever wrote
kept still within my heart of hope
Hope for all the world to know
the depth of love your pen would show
Poetic words you left behind
to guide the hearts of all mankind
-Jeannie Minor
Written in response to the beautifully poetic
words of "Ink Bleeds Only For You" by Silent One
When loves becomes e-z the world will B a better place
holdin you will B more often N kissin U will have a better taste
spendin time will not be spent but it will B remembered
When loves becomes e-z the doubts U have U wont remember
N When loves becomes e-z we will walk hand and hand with our enemies
when greed becomes powerless we will sail back from overseas
When loves becomes e-z it will B e-z 2 love,
sympathy will have a name N it's name will B love
When loves becomes e-z we will finally let our guard down
when i find love U'll B safe when i'm around
i could love 4ever and hate just once,
and that hate will back fire on me like a broken gun
hate is so e-z and love is so hard,
we love to hate the devil and fear to love God....
if we could love jus 2 love, my love will be everlasting
it will be bullet proof instead of plastic
When loves becomes e-z i will love like the 1st
mayB my mind will unfold, mayB this bubble will brust
it's better not to love at all then to love and lost
because trying to gain that love back is a debtly cost
and when loves becomes e-z a smile will become a gift
5 fingerz will become a hand N that hand will become a lift
When loves becomes e-z the most meaningful word will B friend
and When loves becomes e-z i will love you again
9/18/06
The beginning holds a once upon a time -
eyes reflect light, endless and sublime
kindness being a Virtue
Tender beats of the heart whisper grace,
lines draw a smile upon the face
Patiently, I wait for you
Etiquette becomes me:
part of the past, the present
and future’s reality
Embracing an emotion, harmony found in blue,
or the touch of pink- as colors often do
Calm becomes a soothing melody
Love being an echo upon lips of sincerity
Etiquette becomes me:
the mind, the body
the past, the present, in future's reality
The beginning holds a once upon a time -
eyes reflect light, endless and sublime
Etiquette becomes me:
_____________
~ Tender thoughts from the Heart ~
Author's Note~ Inspired by a simple phrase felt along the wind,
"Always be you!"
There are many different needs for each chapter of our lives.
From youth to when we are joined as husbands and wives.
These needs will change with each advancement and loss.
Whatever they become they will always come with a cost.
Some will remain humble always appreciating what they have.
They are filled with greed, for which there is no healing salve.
For the unsatisfied, wealth and power will always be sought.
They falsely think happiness is a privilege that can be bought
Covetousness, pride, and vanity can quite easily take hold.
Traits of selfishness and greed cannot easily be controlled
until their family and friends are forgotten; lost in the mix.
Once that line is crossed, it becomes an affliction that sticks.
Self-reflection and wisdom some of them will find with age.
Be careful of what you wish for with the turning of each page.
Lessons will be taught with the planting of each fertile seed.
You’ll reap what you sow when your need turns into greed.