Best Becoming Poems
One painting shows a twilight sky.
I gaze at it. It makes me sigh.
I stand there for the longest time.
Inside my mind there comes a rhyme.
Beneath the brilliant sky I see
the waters of infinity.
And staring at the wondrous scene,
I’ve now dissolved into its dream.
I’ve turned into the waves that rise,
which match the blue-green of my eyes.
And as I rise, I long to touch
the hues of sky I love so much.
Deep violet and rosy pink
of sunset’s sky begin to sink
into the briny depths of me.
I’m rhythm, rhyme, and sky and sea!
Written Nov. 14, 2021
Submitted June 20, 2022
For the '2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 4'
Sponsor: Mark Toney
The roaring cosmological river of becoming forever flows into harmony's ocean of being!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
04 May 2017
What if Mother Nature retired, and I applied for her position?
How would I dare to assume her secret duties, her un-ending cycles
Could I invoke such power, or must I simply become her?
Spin myself into a cocoon of natural faith.
Let the atoms of the cosmos transform my light into spirit.
Would I then emerge, complete with every force of mystery?
Awaken each day with a pink mist, and burn each evening sky with crimson?
Command each leaf, each breath and every symphony of living?
Would I wear her gowns of argent, lavender and aqua?
Step lightly on mossy stones, and dance upon silvery meadows?
Grace the heavens in cloud-white glinting wings
and in the depths of darkest night bear stars, filled
with the promise of every new beginning?
In Honor of my Fave Poems Andrea Dietrich.
First Place.
101 in a ROW contest -2
Contest Judged: 7/27/2016 9:30:00 PM
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
5th. Place
As Christmas draws near I contemplate my faith.
Jesus spent many years away, yet no one knows
For sure why, or where, or how, but destiny's lure.
When he happened upon meeting the teachers
Who would guide his steps with the knowledge
Needed in guiding ours, he was anointed with
Sacred oils and the perfect time for his return
To teach the yearning masses was revealed.
He taught in parables to be better understood
So that even the youngest children could grasp
The lesson, and so his words would be spread
By many as he knew his earth time was short.
Even the least of non-believers lives by these
Teachings, though they may never realize it.
Simple truths, compassion for others, kindness
To animals, love’s consideration for humanity,
Helping the helpless in reaching out to strangers.
These have been manifested inside our DNA
To help the broken souls who need help most.
Faith instills courage, yields strength, and endows
Peace that helps to conquer the greatest of fears.
It is among one of the most blessed gifts taught,
Along with forgiveness, to be honored and revered.
As this winter season has been chosen to honor
His blessed birth, I also deign to honor his teachers.
If you visualize their light in others of all races, creeds,
And faiths, you are on the true path of enlightenment.
"Blessed birth and destined death are both divine."
Jesus Contest
Sponsor Anthony Slausen
HM
7-5-2016
Any Poem (Not Entered In A Contest
Sponsor Broken Wings
First Place
Becoming righteous is a high ask
who indeed can claim this real prize
for God declares all as sinners
so need God to give you rise
Being able to achieve righteous deeds
won't bring a righteousness divine
for deeds can't make you such
only God can show you His sign
God is the author of true righteousness
for He is righteous perfectly true
always has been past and forever
brings Christ's imputed righteousness upon you
The good Lord now sees us as Christ
with His righteousness upon our frame
so God accepts us as His holy ones
now Satan can't cast us with any blame
Now we can do righteous deeds
seeing we are righteous altogether
such a blessing and privilege to have
God has endowed it upon us forever
(Quote:
" We do not become righteous by doing righteous deeds but, having been made righteous, we do righteous deeds".)
- Martin Luther ( 1483-1546)
Painted in twilight grey,
the stars dangle low
over a far vallev where willows bend
in a lone shade,
creating lines of a face
disappearing from hazy blur...
Upon stars, a wish holds this sigh
with yearning that you'll be here
to raise my eyes warm as sprinatime
through your warmest afterglow;
Now I yearn for time shimmering
when the pond was our ripple of ardor
and how the waves would tremble
while I held the arms waxing the night.--
You never said your heart grew frail
as we ruffled through leaves of byways
mimicking voices on the radio
till lonely tunes stab me, dying along with you.
11/10/2017
Contest of Craig Hawkins:
Depression and Sadness
Winter’s newborn fusses in blustered billows;
Colicked thunder rumbles from tantrumed lightning.
Blossoms nursing heavenward – April showers.
Christened is springtime
Who are you really, when no one is watching?
What makes you think and act like you do?
When will you stop pretending and drop your disguises?
Where will you find your identity true?
Why not embrace the uniqueness of you?
8/26/12
For Harry Horseman's 5 W's contest
Every so often, my mind wanders back to the summer of my youth, where a specific memory awaits.
Having completed my first year at University, I’ve come home. My younger brother John, fifteen, seems all grown up, so different. He’s gotten taller but it’s more than that.
I'm surprised when he offers me a tour of his new ‘Boyz Only’ clubhouse. I almost wonder if he has missed me while I was away, likely not. The shell of a hand-me-down camper has been converted into a hangout. When I mention that he keeps it surprisingly neat, he snickers and reveals his stash of hidden girlie magazines, safe from the inevitable parental inspection.
I am impressed, and at the same time, I can’t help but feel like I’ve entered a time bubble, a door, a transition. On one hand, it feels surreal; on the other hand, it’s simply an honour to just sit here as a guest.
I talk to John about what it was like to adapt to life in the big city. He talks to me about his recent exploits and his adventures with his friends. It isn’t long before we reminisce about the escapades we shared when we were younger. In our pauses, we’re somehow cognizant that we’re one step closer to adulthood, to what we might call freedom.
In the past year, I haven’t thought much about home and our countryside fields. For me it’s more about what the future has to offer. But on this day, it’s tangible how John and I are setting out on different journeys. He is next in line to fly the coop and I'm sure he realizes it. As we spread our wings, it’s obvious that the gap will only grow.
This precise moment clings golden to me, ever so close to the surface of my heart.
at the forest’s edge
by the old baseball field
youth within reach
AP: 1st place 2024, 2nd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on September 1, 2025 for contest 2025 POETRY MARATHON MILE 13 sponsored by MARK TONEY - RANKED 1ST
and on November 15, 2025 for contest 2025 POETRY MARATHON QUALIFIERS' FINAL PLACEMENT sponsored by MARK TONEY - RANKED 14TH
When the leaves fall,
I feel their green call to me
unto death.
Whispering that what was fresh
is no more.
I hear their silence, see their veins
weave through their becoming -
from brittle leaves to tomorrow’s dust.
And as the tree, limb to limb
with the others,
stands tall like a soldier ready for battle,
the leaves fragment as they fall.
They never try to hold on
for they know their fate.
They land as one
with winter’s snowy lace calling
to the bitterness all around
to remind of what once was new
born to beauty on high.
Ignored by passerby,
they lay desolate beneath the underlay
of moments gone by,
every kindness and cruelty and breath.
December’s frozen face tries to smile
in remembrance
but can only shudder under the sullen sky,
mourning reflected in an icy mirror,
as it stings the earth (and I)
with sleeted tears
and the woeful winds commiserate.
Oh, how they call to the small within
me like innocent days
and love taken for granted,
but I, like the leaves, am silent.
Life is wondrous and beautiful
until the end.
As the season of white melts into gray,
the leaves, (and I),
softly fade away.
Written 5/7/22
Trump Shields The US From Becoming A Carcass Full With Ants
Trumps draws a line in the sand
He's shaken all the trees in the land
Call him whatever, okay an ass
Yet keep in mind his motto USA first
From the civil war to now
No other's brought out the plow
Like how Trump has outlined in his model
In stomping his foot down full throttle
In Trump's twelve days in office
He's raining on the bureaucratic chorus
Telling big business to fear
Of outsourcing jobs from here
He's taken on the pharmaceutical giants
To lower their prices, and be more compliant
He set a visa moratorium on 7 Muslim countries
Prompting protester's chastises, so bluntly
He's opened dialogue for domestic oil exploration
Setting the country's future more self reliant of oil importation
He's befriended the Brits, and hired a cabinet of friends
Some of which are the richest, so one hopes it pays dividends
To this he silences his, what, ... critics?
By calling them, okay, ... idiots !
Trump's IQ some say it's one of the tops
One hope pressure doesn't make it pop
Trump also seen as grandstanding his wall
For the Mexican President to take the fall
Yet he may be right on all of this
For it's a lot of walkovers from the border
That's soaking up the jobs, social and welfare
Taking up space for the ones already here
Trump may be xenophobic and not a tulip or rose
But he can't be accused of tiptoeing in
He needed to stem the colony of ants
Instead of letting them bred and expanse
connie pachecho
2/1/17
BECOMING A WOMAN
Someday...
I will be all woman...
I will be the mother...
A mommy who will tenderly care..
A mama who will prepare..
A mom who will be her "kid's saver" .
I will be the wife...
The lawfully other half..
Who will stand on his husbands behalf..
I will be the light of a home..
Each will feel happy not alone..
Giggles; laughters will be heard..
If there are tears, sure it's rare..
Despite these, still i'll be a lady..
Even if there'll be malady..
I'll remain gentle yet sturdy..
I'll be jolly ready...
I will walk in grace..
I will attempt "eloquence"..
I'll not live in tight fence..
Rather i'll be alive knowing sequences..
Even if wrinkles will steal me..
Even if illness claims my health..
Even if old age squeezes life from me..
I know, i have live as a woman..
***Hope you can check my personal blog as well: http://myblossomingthoughts.blogspot.com/... Thank you so much for reading my composition… God bless us always….. >> Olive Eloisa ?
Cunning like foxes,greedy as hyenas,they looked at me;
With widened eyes and wet lips,ready to grab me,like an angry lioness;
And tear me like a beast and swallow me like the shark that swallowed Jonah.
I had become a bad child; as bad as war,
And they could no longer tolerate my naughtiness.
They remained silent without saying anything like a word
But beneath their silence piled a heap of anger and rage
And they breathed with fury, wishing to only take hold of me,
And teach me a lesson,that I would live to remember.
My mother was against me,just like her dear husband
They said I was an ungrateful daughter,
Because I refused to eat from the same plate with him-
The man they had prepared to marry me off because of his money.
He was a Methuselah of the previous century;
And he had been classmates with my father.
My people wanted to sell me off,they were exchanging me;
Their blood; for coins of shillings that last not longer than lust.
They were determined to see me off like an unwanted visitor.
But, I stood my ground like any other person who desires to live.
I crossed lines to tell them they were doing wrong for the first time,
And they said I was disappointing and selfish.
They scolded me,yelling at me and calling me an evil child.
They were living their life,I wanted to live mine,
To be a better woman who could move many and change many.
I wanted to go to school for I was just fifteen and had seen little of the world;
If it was waters of the ocean,I had only tasted the surfaces;
If it was heaven,I had just started to climb Jacob's ladder.
I know not better than crying and licking my tears,
And that is exactly what I did, weeping like death was here to take me.
I called upon the ancestors of my clan to rescue me,
I looked up to the skies,tracing to find my redeemer.
I cried to my sister and brothers, I begged my people for help,
And I was willing to involve the authorities, for my education was my life.
The vows came with agony, the ring would come with suffering;
And I was not ready for any of this, I would fight till the end;
For this was my right as a modern girl child!
If immortal you wish us, my dearest friend, to be,
Let us love one another into eternity!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
28 March 2023
I live in middle land between fuzzy bottom
and the high hazy skies
I peer down quantum wishing-wells, waves entangle
observed as they collapse
I scan beyond forever where dark matter lurks
in unforeseen disguise
I think I am, I blink, ... something is shifting there
reality perhaps
I count the zeroes descending beneath my eyes
to out of sight below
I sum tens of noughts piling to the very brink
of distant space and time
I ask why half-way along this fourth dimension
our knowledge seems to grow
I ponder my vantage, asymmetric centre
position so sublime
I play with grateful gods gathering me in close
where when can be no more
I move by osmosis, membrane passing on through
the other side of hope
I absorb persona essence, no hereafter
no self was here before
I am continuous love, joy and pain caressed
I am the learning-scope
I seem potent but feel a much greater power
the birth of potential
I flow with constant change, buoyed up by warm current
rising through the ocean
I feel procession from the dizzy atomic
to cosmic sequential
I record the dancing rim of life, strange song soothed
holographic lotion
I stir prime numbers, multiple integer broth
then fractions of the whole
I greet the old ones, memories morph and cuddle
sprinkling their magic hue
I mingle many species, their varied voices
shape the galactic goal
I embrace fallen youngsters, stricken babies scream
all pleading to renew
I swing with orchestral relatives, out of time
off-beating ticking clock
I watch minds simplify, beguiled by certainty
discordant chords strumming
I am blown by the erratic winds of zeitgeist
zig-zagging round the block
I pause to query, am I this zany creature
half-way to becoming?