Best Beeline Poems
Genuinely!
I've not been the most frequent on this pen
But there are men and women, boys and girls
That have used it to walk on the shores of emotions,
Showing conviction to inspire an evolution
Using Compiling lines that demand admiration
Making this art beautiful and thought provoking
Invoking sensations of humor, love, sorrow, inspiration
They have gone the extra mile
Moving people and spreading innovations
Poets are philosophers
Campaigners of a world controlled by the mind
Creators of nations where reasons and feelings are combined
Inventors of spheres where dictions and connotations are aligned
In the only art form that knows how: Poetry
It's a lubrication to our souls
A beeline route to the heart
It's array of imaginations obligate consciousness
With verses of heavenly adoration
Poetry push motivation into dying bodies
Like doctors healing patients on life support
Conveyed through comedy or romance, activism or insight
Just the right words in just the right ways turn poems into vitamins
nourishing our fading bodies with endless possibilities
By connecting ink to paper
Poets through poems
Highlights the most extraordinary factors of life
Into the most ordinary style possible
The raw use of vernacular makes this art spectacular
They're ideas without frontiers
Lines fused to mold our dreams into entities
Verses and imagery construct poems into precisely powerful printings
That have touched so many lives
Having the greatest effect on me
And this is Phenomenal!
HURRICANE HATTIE
It came like a thief
After midnight
Stealthily
Unawares
Mischievously
Spitefully
Desperately
Determined
With preconceived plans
Across the Caribbean Sea
Suddenly turning west
Making a beeline
To British Honduras
In Central America
It foiled expectations
That it would arrive
At seven the next morning
And
Instead
Made a surprise visit
Six hours earlier
And
Like the Gestapo
The KGB
The Secret Police
Attacked
While people were
Least prepared
Snoozing
Snoring
Dreaming
Of better things.
Discriminating
It attacked
Belize
Ignoring neighboring
Guatemala
Honduras
Mexico
As if
Remotely controlled
By some
Vengeful fanatic
At 150 miles per hour
And more
It
Clobbered
Battered
Hammered
Pounded
The coastline
Of
The Jewel
People still ’memba
How in ’61
It wrecked havoc
In Dangriga
Belize City
San Pedro
Cay Caulker
Among others
As it
Thumped
Hit
Broke
Lifted
Pushed
Carried
Dumped
Submerged
Their valuables
And
Like a Repo Man
Dispossess them
Of their
Treasured belongings
Within the
Make-belief safety
Of its eye
Poor people
Thinking it was over
Sought their fortunes
On the beaches
In the shops
In others’ property
When Hattie
On a round trip ticket
Came back hurriedly
And with
More gusto
Lashed out
As a category five
Storm
Typhoon
Hurricane
To teach them a lesson
In
Tort
Honesty
Respect
And dignity.
In the end
One third of the coast
Was devastated
One third
Damaged
And
Another third
Standing
With 264 dead
And millions
Of dollars lost
The place lay wasted
Spoiled
Thorn
Flooded
Damaged
Wounded
Smashed
Muddied
Polluted
As
Debris
Corpses
Belongings
And victims
Wallowed in its wake.
As it distanced itself
From
Its handiwork
And Observed
With a smirk
Its power
To
Subdue
Man
Woman and child
It grinned
In satisfaction
At its exploits
And its supernatural supremacy
To shape destiny
And vanquish the vulnerable
I basically was bred to be wired with significant
Sophistication, control is not an option, it's way beyond
Ordinary as complicated as the human cell and the way
Your brain functions, as pain comes you only wince
When your time comes, when my times come, to
sea
They used to be a day the sea saw, when the breeze called
And you was thankful to be alive, as trees fall,
And the lights come on inside,
Bhattacharya,, I vary with multiple variables
Variety is a gold, and the knowledge gained inside
Is undeniable 3 SECONDS Away and the sea falls
The swells sway and work against themselves
recline as a I make a beeline
Across The Universe
Life’s tapestry had brought me from the rugged Welsh Coast
to ‘Egoli’ The City Of Gold’ a place of dreams in South Africa
I wished for so much and so little just heal from the weight
of black dogs on my shoulders and a soldiered out mind
Everything in tatters the mosaic torn fragments dishevelled
black batik on the canvas sexy lace far from realistic realm
With the Sun God watching me in rehabilitation from booze
and delusion I painted love in the soil with Jacaranda petals
A purple display of what could not have been foreseen as
some ‘inmate’ before me had dressed up wish’s desperation
Her heart on the lawn in those petals in an innocent message
across and upon the Universe made match and soul’s mate
Colour and passion drew us together a beeline without
knowing what was what who was who just knowing it was
Sharing and caring 'The Little Prince' Leonhard Cohen Bach’s 'Illusion'
'Alice’s Restaurant' drawing like magnets joined desire miracle love
New fires exploding a tsunami of feelings trust intuition and magic
one string with two puppets from heaven we went to the movies
‘Across the Universe’ anti-establishment and melodious Beatles
orchestrated sizzling fingers embraced hands and hearts together
Christmas Day almost a decade ago and still going we eloped
together best friends lovers and no idea of the journey before us
That less trodden path gifted us divine bliss and gave us that most
unconventional Christmas present we longed for so much and so long
23rd December 2016
At the end of the elated visit
Around the mind moving marble mausoleum -Taj Mahal
I was unconvinced to leave and got a place to sit
As excited to enjoy the environment, withal
It was the inside on the right, near the main entrance
Just before the famous ‘visitors bench’
from where visitors pose, with faces full of romance
As a monumental memory, though the fire won’t quench
I was seated at a comfortable distance
To watch this mankind’s magnificent marble marvel
My mind churned the charm, inch by inch
With visitors from the entire globe, lining after a long travel
Of all colors, gathering was the crowd of tourist
With dressing styles that were, to this land, new
My emotions of excitement, I could not resist
Their expression of ecstatic too, none knew
Flocking was also the beeline of photographers
With the face of everyone, full of excitement
Earnestly everyone was immersed, as none bothers
None can forget in life, this joyful moment
Distracted my ‘dream-like-reality’ was an eagle
He was flying low, short rounds over the main dome
Over his unusual behavior, into me, I did giggle
He returned after two short rounds, as it was awesome
He now flied directly to the Finial – Islamic moon symbol atop
He sat over the Finial, as if he came to chat with me
A new relationship between us began to develop
I enormously enjoyed this ecstatic and wondered to watch the game
Joy or grief never lasts for longer
As he could not sit there comfortably
As the edges seems sharper and stronger
My friend was forced to fly away, inevitably
This play of this eagle, perhaps I only noticed
Perhaps only towards me, He sat to chat
Taj as universal ‘symbol of love’ is highly placed
The joy of watching the eagle too, a tantalizing treat!
(Copyrights reserved by the Author)
I feel if you want to steal my limelight
then you had best learn to rhyme tight,
and double up your rhyme with each line
like mine so that I might feel the fright,
decline and beeline from your sight.
Live your life in the shadows
far away from the meadows
and only move slightly so
your world doesnt crumble.
Just sit in your bubble and wallow
and mumble afraid to rumble
this phenom for the trouble.
You've the chance of a bumble bee
that's been detached from its stinger and wings,
whinging in pain towards the fat lady that sings.
Nearing the finish line in less than a minutes time,
sliding from the peak and unable to climb,
beaten down in shock by my sublime
and superbly well crafted rhyme.
You can repeatedly attempt to try to call my bluff
but you cannot sit in my seat or out do my stuff
because I'll treat you rough and smack the puff
out of your cheeks thus causing you to fluff
words you seek, weak without enough.
I'm the Trim Reaper, I creep,
I'll push you down until you creek,
and become to weak,
to move or even speak,
I'll allow your slow retreat,
as the tears begin to leak,
I'll beat out the next beat
as I beat and defeat on repeat.
Kings fumble their crown
in a blink of the eye,
and fall down earth bound
from way up in the sky,
because they cannot thrive,
not while I am alive,
best to give up then hide
and silence crying eyes.
Musk it you must as the dusk hides the dust,
because you can't muster up or adjust
and prove that you've got enough groove
to remove me when you're busted with no thrust
to remove me or leave me stationed to rust.
Trust me I'll turn your talent crusty abruptly
then move heaven and hell above me.
My desire will not tire as the fire transpires up high,
all eyes on me to see the majestic Phoenix rise.
A presence out of this world like the Phoenix lights,
this sentence wields the last words seen in this write.
Page 2
The Shoot Out At The KOA Corral
The continuing saga of Zack Waverly
The mare was to far gone
and I had to put her down
There was nothing I could do
To help her make her back to town
When things have come to this
Life seems barely worth a trifle
As the only mercies' left
comes from what's inside a rifle
I saddled up and rode due west
Not to my destination
But, took a little detour
To make an allegation
On a hill top, I approached
As the Sun hung at mid-day
and I saw a man, with whip in hand
strike a Dapple Gray
My poor horse, was exhausted
But I guess he some how knew
He reared up on his two hind legs
Then down the hill flew
I've learn to hold on tight
When Ole Buck gets inspired
I swear, His eyes turn black as coal
While his nostrils fill with fire
He raced to make a beeline
To where the horse was being beat
Then stopped outside the wooden fence
In the mid-day summer heat
"Jonah, stop it now"
Is what I shouted from my horse
"Don't make me come and make you
'Cause you know I can of course"
Jonah wasn't tall but a strong and abled man
and so I pulled my Walker Colt
and watched the whip drop, from his hand
HeeeeYahaaa, Partners Keep your Posse out lookin' for page 3
Ropin Pen
Headed to the ropin' pen
On a Saturday night
Cooler is loaded
This just feels right
Got the ol' dodge rollin'
You know I ain't no phony
Got this six horse trailer
Loaded with my one and only
It's a 10 point slide
Down there at Cody's
With a fresh batch of steers
Lookin for some ponies
I'm just a number three
But it's only a twelve header
Heeler is a two
So he ain't no better
16 back in the short go
With 19 of em' being mine
I was ropin' like Trevor Brazier!
All I needed was a time
But at the bottom of the ninth
Things were lookin' bad
My partner flipped his loop
Right up under my ol' nag
Ol' Rowdy didn't agree
All of a sudden he turned feral
Made a beeline towards the chute
Then shut down and turned the barrel
In all his years as a barrel horse
That was the best run he'd ever made
Luckily for me
I came out, unscathed
I woulda had that ropin'
But it was capped at a 7
If only I won the saddle pad
Ol' Rowdy would think he'd gone to heaven
The Saga of Zack Waverly continues By JT Curtis
In The Affair Of The
Lost Soul Saloon
While sliding off my horse
Not a soul could be found
As I paused for a moment
to take a look around
My horse was acting nervous
So, I leashed him to a rail
Then dusted off the remnants
Of the days spent on the trail
I've been about a week
without a whisky or a brew
and the way I'm feeling lately
there ain't nothing else that'd do
So, I moved my heavy legs
As I stumbled cross the street
then barged through the doors
and made a beeline for a seat
A cloud of dust erupted
as I fell into a chair
and when it all had settle
only silents filled the air
Where is everyone
where's the music, where's the crowd
I was thinking to myself
Then I said it, right out loud.
Page 1 to be continued.......
How is it viable that life could alter the course,
from people to people?
What makes you quiver in the middle of the night
to play with my agony?
Until it is encircled by a wing of misery.
That has decayed when I embrace the gloom to reach you.
Even though I may find hillsides to be the Snowden,
As I scream out a chuckle, the humming torrent,
from the Empyreans stopped.
Be that they are on a brainless creative path, as this might,
What's more, there was a strand of the first dawn,
daylight as I got to it, In either case.
I can visually perceive an expanding synergy
within the grace before the murkiness
that Involves me in the dolefulness.
O, I love behaving with mate's optical discernment.
But whatever story could be, the enraged planet
Is making a beeline for the egress.
Forlorn, exhausted, paused, abstracted, and stress.
In a world full of velveteens placed overarches,
absurdity reigns supreme.
The Spectra in Solitude of even a Young Dreamer
With a dazzling sense of vision,
I'm expecting the end of the world.
To find my way into the norm of emotions, Withal.
I'm on my way to another light pole.
Where you make the most out of my verses.
Decorate my hardbound book with your scripts.
Dramatic Monologue poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
2nd place contest winner
Date written: 02/26/2021
Dramatic Monologue
Edward Ibeh
Before you leave me, my darling,
let me tell you this. When we met,
I was stolen words and borrowed
phrases. Bruised in colour and wretched
Harsh character, bent on self
harm and ruined chances. But,
you became my credo, my Saint
to be adored, breathlessly calm
Your lips were the gateway to
pristine zephyrs and alluring tone.
You were my dress code for the
day and my hair cut for the month.
You were my daily meals and supported
causes. My earth, moon and the space
inbetween. When you walked, your shape
was my thrill. And your coetish lure, my torch
Your eyes were my caves to mine, and your
beauty my arete to climb. Your sun kissed
soul, burned through my clouds, and your
caring thoughts mastered my informal grudge
Your smile became my beeline. And your
grace lifted away the dark taste of grey
from my mouth, and replaced it with
coloured worth
When you leave me, let me know when
you have returned. Drop a cup or fuse a
light, and I shall know you didn't leave me
after all.
And I shall set the table again. Cut my
hair and change my clothes again. Because
I wouldn't want you to think that I had
stopped caring for life after you left me
Or that I threw knives at the world, instead of
love. And had so easily forgotten the messages
you left to guide me to my end. So, let me tell
you this. You are me and I am you.
And all I ask is this.
That you let me close the door first
‘tis Sunday! Time for a revival.
It’s a celebration. Several days of praise
and charismatic speakers.
It is time for the bells
to be heard.
If we still walked the dusty streets
would excitement be at its peak?
Are the cars a yawn
that pull into the parking lot?
Will televisions be turned on,
instead of making a beeline
to be part of the angelic choir?
Who will dare to be unmasked?
Who are the holdouts?
Shout! Shout for joy
as we can still celebrate
and employ our lungs
to exaltation,
to raise the roof,
to blow the socks off,
to honor the King of kings,
the Lord of lords,
Father, Son and Spirit -
three in one
with the centrifugal gathering
that one day,
with trumpet force,
will find ourselves
amidst the angel armies
and all saved humanity.
‘tis Sunday!
Celebrate the upcoming days -
come one, come all
and give praise;
praise the Lord!
2/5/2023
Purple Chakra
She wears in dreams and enchantment our mad hatter’s hat
cloaked in violet desire and so called co-incidence of purple
Just a few blossoms Jacaranda from the doom of rock bottom
I spelt the word ‘love’ with the petals in between roses and colour
the wannabe hippie of times long gone by on a path yet unknown
A rehab from drink and from madness confinement in mind
body soul removed from temptation inpatient impatient solitude
‘So strange this beautiful woman here before your arrival she
formed a small purple heart on the manicured lawn. You would
like her she’s Tanya Michelle bright and emotional calls herself Tai.’
A visitor truly unknown pitched a few days after un-thought of no
sense no connection no intention no blossoms of meaning or reason
a fairy tale story frog princess prince sensation out of the purple
‘You must be Tai I am Kai I suppose we have something in common’
a beeline from nowhere how I knew I not know may the Universe tell
synchronicity spelt out from the winds gravitation pulled in together
Now we dance to the moon and swim with the tides scent the fragrance
sing to the tune of fortuitous fortune paint purple mad sanity in words
rainbows melting pastels poetry in motion poet trees’ hot temperance
Just one word had been spelt one heart in the garden of freedom
two seeds released rising high in the air in miraculous sparkling
waters dust from the ashes volcano erupted meaningful madness
We travel together ever since wear hats purple hair flowers dreams and
infusion have been flying ‘Taikaiwe’ on infinite eternity from that
momentous moment enshrined in the blossoms
Written on the 21st June 2016-06-20
From Kai Michael to Tai Michelle
For contest: Something Seemingly Insignificant
And Unexpected Changed My Life
We have a ginger cat that we love dearly,
But we face the same dilemma with him yearly.
This sleek, loveable and sassy feline,
For the Yule Tree always makes a beeline!
We adorn the tree with delicate gee-gaws with care,
As my friend fixes me with his inscrutable stare.
He watches so innocently as I decorate the tree,
Quivering with excitement anxious to go on his spree!
After the tree is trimmed with things so pretty,
I admonish him, "Now stay away from there, kitty!"
He just twitches his whiskers with a scornful smirk,
Patiently waiting 'till I leave so he can go berserk!
Cozily settled by the fire I hear a resounding crash,
Leap from my chair and cross the room in a flash!
Of course no cat near the tree is there a trace.
I find him in another room innocently washing his face!
Long after the tree is stored for the next Yuletide,
Decorations found under chairs we take in stride.
As they say, Christmas comes but once a year,
So we'll tolerate the mischievous antics of this old dear!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Woke up Sunday morning
Put on my Sunday best,
'Cause I didn’t want to go
And look different from the rest.
When the meeting was over
Was among the first to go.
Made a beeline home
Put on some comfy clothes.
Every weekday I work
Must wear a suit and tie
Feels so darn confining
It makes me wanna cry
By the time my shift is over
Tell you goodness knows
Can’t wait to get on home
Put on some comfy clothes.
Comfy clothes are great
Doesn’t matter what the season.
Just can’t quite explain it
There is no rhyme or reason.
But if you feel uptight,
Don’t know which way to go,
Things will get a little better
You put on some comfy clothes.
Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Published 2018 in "Up In Smoke" via wattpad.com