Best Ber Poems


"in the Heat of Pasion" (To Angela Wih Love)

The first time I saw you, there was a glow about you
      that baffle me.  I-I just could not find the right word,
     "you had that certain glow about you".  Not the way you walk
       nor the way you move, "but I believe in miracle's", yes
      I do - yes I do.  So finally I step to you and ask, would you,
       could you smile ? just for the camara in my mind so that the
      image of an Angel would be on my mind just in case the world
      ended (today) much to soon, much before time.  The first time
     I saw you naked Angela, my mouth got lost for words-but the one
      that slip through my lip's were (mmmunn) "what a gorcious women,
      breast like lucious melons", and a voice (sweet) like that of the ocean
     and wave's of heat and my idea of nerviousness brings trembeling to
     my feet's.
    "I do believe in miracle's", "I do not believe in love".  Miracle's that it
       take to sustain a relationship that the odd's of longivity are against us.
      And we do become desponded, most of our day is spent fussing and cussing.
     Never to see true love at its best.  The first time our lip's did touch, I remem-
     ber this Angel who I call Angela, she had my name tattoe across her chest.
      Love, became the missing attraction, and you comfort me in my desire to ex
    press myself, for I thought I was so macho, never in a thousand years, "will I
      meet such a someone (?) that's such a women".  A women (aaaah) such a
    women, "from her head to her shoe".  
       Now Angela just in case the world ends tomorrow.  Don't denie that there's an
       "attraction".  O'Angela.....kiss me quickly, "In the heat of Passion".

Premium Member September

September morn flutters its bright wings
Radiant colors of love and joy it all brings
Never just a dream
Drizzles fuse with summer air in delight
Rainbow looms are strewn in vast site
They perfectly prim

September smiles brandish vibrantly on air
Virgon-Libran Stars pace dazzlingly in flair
Trees arc overhead
Gilded crackers carpet densely around
Others in streaky flames stud…abound
Let’s frolic and tread

September aroma wafts, whirls… swirls
Bracing breeze bounces, dances, twirls
A lavish confetti-bearer
Overture of year’s most awaiting parts
Enchanting hues rain from the start
Ber Months’ fun greeter

Sept. 23, 2016 (Fri)         9.59pm
©2016Leonora Galinta




 I wrote this poem to greet you all lovingly a Very Happy and Blessed September! 

 Also, a very Happy Birthday to the September Celebrants especially to our very dear poet and friend, Andrea D. Her very special day was last Sept 5.  Once again, Happy, Happy Birthday! This poem is for You and for all my/our dear Septemberian poetic friends. Wishing you the BEST in life especially Good Health, Happiness and Success. Biggest and sweetest hugs from me.
I Love and miss you all!
© Len Gasun  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Smooth Talker

SMOOTH TALKER

“’til Christmas?    Just two shopping days
With New Year a few more away

Considering (what you call) merchant ads -    
    manipulation 
With Big Dave there still exists a good will 
    Sensation

Deck the rooms with Dave’s fine ‘threesome’
    fa-la-la-la-laa-re-mem-ber Dave
The ad    while not in fine spiritual keeping
    shows good will    with Big Dave, you save

Merry Christmas all you fine shoppers
    out there in holiday land
Drop on by for some egg nog and
    A tune from our Jingle Bell Band

Ho! Ho! Ho! 
Come on down    y’hear”


Perpetually Lost

Of the many roads that I have taken
the many words which I have forsaken 
Never could my passion bring 
The lonely heart from which my cistern drinks

Gloom, the comfort of my tears
Tears, the instrument of my fears
Fear, the ransom paid of daring to dream 
Dreams, the reward for all my gloomy ideals 

Come! Feel the bronzie-blood upon my sleeves 
Tilting Forcibly in  that brazen breeze
Groaning for you to release thee
Begging in silence, pleading  devotee....

          Floating,
                     Hoping, 
                                  Wandering, 
                                               Despairing 


                                                 ,Fearing
                                     ,Soothing
                          ,Exhaling
            , Calming ...


Once again, once, .... again
What more can I attain
Must I dare to say
Drifting, 
                slowly, 
                             dis-mem-ber-ed  prey


Date : 4 Feb 2016 ( Inspired by Beethovens Moonlight Sonata )

Heaven's Above That Mountain

Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS L.H. ANDRESS


GODS---ABOVE---THE---MOUN/TAIN...!
THERE---WERE---GODS/ABOVE---THE/MOUN/TAIN!
GODS---ABOVE---THE---MOUN/TAIN...!
THERE---WERE---GODS/ABOVE---THE/MOUN/TAIN!

HEA---VEN'S---ONLY---ABOVE/THAT-MOUN/TAIN!
HEA---VEN'S---ONLY---ABOVE/THAT-MOUN/TAIN!
THERE---WERE---GODS/ABOVE---THE/MOUN/TAIN!

WHEN---YOU/'R---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!
THAT'S---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!

AN---HELPLESS/LESS---YOU'RE---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!
YOU'RE---HELPLESS/LESS---YOU'RE---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!

IT'S---A/SONG---SO/SWEET---'N/TART!
A/SONG---TART---'N/SWEET!

HELPLESS---UPON/THAT/MOUN---TAIN!
WHEN---YOU'RE/HELPLESS---UPON/THAT---MOUNTAIN!

ZEUS---AIN'T/GOT---NO/TAKERS---BUT/LAKES---WELL?!?!
WHEN---YOU'RE/HELPLESS---UPON/THAT---MOUN/TAIN!

IT---MIGHT/BE---FOUR/TEEN---HUNDRED/YEARS---LATER!
SOME/TIME---IN/17---SEVENTY---SIX!

ZEUS---HE/WAS---A/CRY'N!
ZEUS---HE/WAS---A/CRY'N!

BOLT'N---LIGHTNING---HE/NEEDED---ROLLIN/THUN---DER!
BRACKETS---'N/BRACES---'N/BOLTS---OF/ROLLIN/THUN---DER!

HE---WAS/'NOTHER---WONDER!
ZEUS---HE/MADE---'NOTHER---WONDER!

WONDEROUS---AT/THE---BOARDS!
HE---WAS---WONDEROUS---AT/THE---BOARDS!

JUMPING---AN/LEAPING---HE---WAS/A---GOD!
JUMPING---AN/LEAPING---HE---WAS/A---GOD!

FACING---HE/HAD---A/SWEET---SWEET/FACE!
FACING---HE/HAD---A/FACE---TOO/SWEET!

GODS---ABOUT/THAT/MOUN---TAIN!
GODS---ABOVE/THAT/MOUN---TAIN!

IT'S---A/TALE---LIKE/THAT---SILLY/'OL
ROCK!
THAT---SILLY/'OL---ROCK!
SYSSI---PHUS---AN/HIS---BOUNCING/ROCK!

IT'S---A/TALE---LIKE/THAT---SILLY/'OL
ROCK!
THAT---SILLY/'OL---ROCK!
SYSSI---PHUS---AN/HIS---BOUNCING/ROCK!

HE---WAS/ROLLIN/THUN---DER!
HE---WAS/ROLLIN/THUN---DER!

AN---THE/STARS---RE---MEMBERED---TWENTY-FIVE-OR-SIX/TO-FOUR!
'CUZ---HE---WAS/MORE/THAN---SOME/SILLY'OL/NUM---BER!
AN---THE/STARS---RE---MEMBERED---TWENTY-FIVE-OR-SIX-TO-FOUR!
'CUZ---HE---WAS/MORE/THAN---SOME/SILLY'OL/NUM---BER!

HE---WAS/A---GOD!
HE---WAS/A---GOD!

THERE---WERE/GIANTS---IN/THE/LAND!
THERE---WERE/GIANTS---IN/THE/LAND!
© Thomas Hsi  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ballad

Premium Member September Bridge, a Letter To January

Dear Jan.                                                                                         

Although at times you have given me more chills than I can stand,                                                                        over the years we have continued to maintain our friendship since     childhood. As you may recall, we have three friends with whom we grew up.                                                                                 There is something I want to say to them that I wanted you to know.

From me, there is no disregard nor disrespect for April, June, and August.                                                                                 But I love the feel and sound of a different name flowing through my lips.
I am rather partial to September, not just because it is my birth month,                                                                                      nor even because of those beautiful three syllables in Sep tem ber.
It's not just the orange colored autumn leaves falling from trees,                                                                                      nor even the happy hand waves and blow kisses of goodbye to the                                                                
torturous slow retreating summer heat that sometimes overstays its welcome.                                                                     

Everyone needs a well-deserved break and a bridge, not just over troubled 
waters, but we also need something of a reprieve for all those sometimes troubled seasons. I dare to think, that is what God had in mind when he   
made The September Bridge.

Your Friend,                                                                                   
December

09032018PoSoup


For Children Too!

If you have so many money -
Stay here and say that they are very good not only for your honey,
But it must ber also true: money are good for children too!
Form: Haiku

Forever In Memory

Remember their faces, their music, and most joyishily their impact on the crowds
and thongs of popparazzi that love them and even the one's that didn't, from San
Francisco to New Mexico. Icon's yes, in a world of their own, "we are not along".
Micheal Jackson, Tupac Shukur, Elvis Prestley, the Beattle's, Muhammed Ali, Pres.
John F. Kennedy and Rev. Martin L. King. Something about each one of them and it
took on a miraculous transformation that force many to believe in a change. Icon-yes,
music is the gateway to the inner spirit, of which a majestic quality emerge when one
can sell out concerts and their records produce's extranomical sales and folks from all
walks of life gets goosebumps whenever ther is chance to see them!!..
   Micheal Jackson grew up right before our eye's, dance his way into our hearts, be
came such an Icon that, "Forever in Mememory", will become etched in history and all
of the contravercy that surrounded his life is a history to be learn and a talented human
being is thought of now as a part of the rising sun, moonwalking his way to become an
"Icon".
   Remember their faces, their ultimate accodote in creating listeners and the younger
generation, a role module. Someone we will tell our grandchildren about over break-
fast at Hardy restaurant. Listening to Tupac, "lets have a Gangsta Party". The Beattle's
I love you yeah, yeah and now the tune, "Gone too soon", shall bring tears and the
Jackson 5 and anyone awakening this morning to the smile of the rising Sun. Remem-
ber their music and in your mind, keep the light on. "Forever in Memory", we want for-
get the "Icon's"...
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Rhyme

Rhyme
is not
the be-all
and the end-all –
the cadence supersedes, mellifluous.
Counting syllables, as superfluous
as the vowels
contained in
the word
queue.
Sounds
in chants
we danced to
before writing –
morae have primacy over meaning. 
Rhythm takes precedence, despite your leaning.
And forced rhymes jar:
him and dim
do not
rhyme!
Rules 
are made 
to askew
and be broken:
double dactyl*:- flib-ber-ti-gib-bet-ing
Defending contests fiercely --- gibbeting.
Breaking your head
to conform
to design,
rhyme.
Puns,
blasé 
efforts, but
double entendres,
sexual innuendo in your face.
As some scribbling can at times be quite base, 
persecution
should never
stymie
flow.



*a double dactyl: /**|/**
flibbertigibbet: (n) a frivolous, flighty, or excessively talkative person.
__________________________________________________________
FUN FACT
Euclid of Alexandria (Mid-4th century BC—Mid-3rd century BC), the great Classical mathematician, believed that the numbers 1, 2, 3 & 4 must have some mystical significance because their sum total is 10—ten was thought to be a number of power. He called this relationship a tetractys. 

Ray Stebbing based his poetic form, Tetractys, on this. No spaces between each stanza and the poem is presented in line with the left-hand margin (or it might be centred) - either way, it would visually give the design of a triangle.
Form: Tetractys

Premium Member Good Morning, Sep Tem Ber

Arising from bed this morning about half-past five, I was delighted once again to be greeted with a September morning.  A hearty good morning to you, my beloved September.  There are choice memories of you that I am compelled to consider.  Not only was I born on a noonday in September, but the birth of Autumn also appears on the 22nd of September. And like the memory of 30 years ago when I first heard a song with September in its title*.  I shall never forget the place and scenery when I heard the song. That song has become one of my favorites, and like you September, it's so refreshing and delightful each time I hear it.

The summer heat sometimes flows into you like an over-heated engine. Like today, in my area of the country, it's going to be 111 degrees. Nevertheless, there is still this mindset focused and filled with ''goodbyes'' to the century-plus temperature days and ''hello's" to Fahrenheit numbers on the downside.

My sweet September, I like to feel the gentle and tender roll of your name across my lips: Sep  tem  ber.  And I love the soothing sounds of Sep  tem  ber flowing into my ears.  You are like a bridge connecting two extremes.  You bring the season of Autumn to separate 'heat from cold'.

I hasten to add that we have a dear friend named June who is most delightful and kind.  There is no denying that July is a beautiful word. And what's not to like about a name like August?  I suspect that the three summer months provide more sunshine and light up our world more than any other.  But it's you, September, that I most adore; and I truly love you more.

written2017; PresentContest, Colorful Fall, Nayda Ivette Negron 09172018

Premium Member Sweet September

Summer's heat and the great 'out-of-doors' will be passing soon,
giving greetings to the beauty of Autumn, starting in September.

The syllables of 'Sep-tem-ber' roll across my lips so soothingly.
Each year, I say to her tenderly, "I only which that you could stay".

But like every Spring in the month of May, September slowly goes away.
Always rejoicing to see her come, I'm never ready for the exit of her calm.

082522PS
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Clerihew Hitchens

Ivon Hitchens a !e!ber of the 7&5
ww2 managed to survive
His horizontals resemblethe wide-screen
images to believe&be seen*

*https://www.castlegatehouse.co.uk/paintings-for-sale/ivon-hitchens/dark-landscape-1944/
Form: Clerihew

Nine Shorts - Hana, Dul, Set

Crabs
Small feet pounding the pebbled path,
Desperate to escape
From imminent danger.
Eight legs and two claws
Advance in their thousands
Upon their prey; the child.
Refuge is sought in an adult's arms,
High up and away from
The frightful crustacean march.


Roman
Crimson red and blinding gold
Balanced upon ber small head.
Blonde hair cascades from beneath
In trestles of tight curls.
She leads her troops around ancient streets,
With a smile as bright as the rays
Of the almighty Sol's coronet.
Her lips uttered words of old
That soon resigned to memory.



Hong Kong
The humidity of warm daytime
Gives way to icy harbor air of nighttime.
Man-made neon dances on the water's surface
While natural moonlight seems to target her,
Illuminates her.
Tsim Sha Tsui's streets are hectic,
But its back alleys provide shelter,
And shaved ice with its sweet, milky taste,
Melts on her tired tongue.
© Han Marlo  Create an image from this poem.

The Drunk

THE DRUNK


It’s kinda nice  - 
thet   aste, 
thebuzz, th     e life
Ok, I ofte   n falldo  wn
. . . big  deal
Can’t rem  em  ber 
things likewhen 
I’m sup   posed
to startmyjob
My wifeget  s ang   ry 
Why? No      moneyleft
for the re    nt 
or the gas bill  
and so o     n

But hey,  I get  to sit in alleys and talk with my buddies about world matters
We shout sometimes in heightened realization that the world is replete with
Useless people like politicians, oligarchs, lawyers, policemen, taxidrivers
Who won’t stop for you when 
                                        you’re              
                                                swaying 
                                                           at the 
                                                                   kerb 
                                                                       
                                                                          outside


                                                                                      the bar. . . 



. . . guys the 
world cou    ld do 
w    ithout, eh?
Pain  s in   myback 
sometim   es 
wifesays it’s liver
but I thin   k 
it’s thatjob of mine
What do    es 
she kn    ow?

Months of Ber

M-erry months of Ber 
A-im to give cold climate; 
V-olume of men from summer 
I-s now feeling 
E-late. 

B-er months of the calendar 
R-oll from September to the last quarter; 
I-t's the time when October goes, 
O-pening the door for November. 
N-ever ignore the morning breeze, 
E-arly dawn in cool fine weather; 
S-ave the thirteenth of December, your birth in the months of Ber.
Form: Acrostic

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