Best Boisterously Poems
Where forests stretched for miles, and Spirit Lake
lay at its foot, there stood a rebel peak.
One day the earth beneath began to quake.
What havoc Mother Nature was to wreak!
The tremors kept occurring till the day
two craters which had formed began to merge,
erupting ash. Wise folks left right away,
for that volcano soon would surely surge!
Some met their death that eerie Sunday morn
of May eighteenth. The deer began to flee.
Then from the mount, a burst of cloud was born -
a mushroom cloud which bellowed boisterously.
It grumbled and it rumbled, rocketing
for fourteen miles to sky its ice and ash.
Land slid. An avalanche was covering
all things within the path of its mad dash!
By 10:15, a wall of water rushed
down to the river, tearing up the trees
along with boulders as the ash still gushed.
Destruction had been wrought with greatest ease.
The news said Mount St. Helen’s lost her head,
and trees, like matchsticks, lay upon the ground.
Amazingly, despite such loss and dread,
there is new growth of beauty all around!
Written Aug. 13, 2014 for Wordscapes Contest of John Hamilton
Categories:
boisterously, mountains,
Form:
Quatrain
Year after year, young people inspire me.
The freshness of youth brings forth curiosity.
Diversity and personality scream, it seems –
Noisily, boisterously, playfully, hope knocks.
Each child has amazing talents to unlock.
Shy ones work in silence while some classmates tease.
Others squirm around on a whim and a breeze.
Did you guess? I am a substitute teacher.
I learn something new every day that I work.
I guess you might say it is a hidden perk.
I love my work and I love to learn from many.
There was one high school boy
A class leader who loved to rap –
Talking, laughing, rapping; class behavior zapped.
I saw impending disruption; So, I struck a deal.
My clever solution was a bit surreal.
When everyone finished their work, he could rap.
Work first, then fun was my motto; he took charge.
His group of "homies” got to work right away.
The classroom was silent that wonderful day.
So, just as I promised, ten minutes at the end,
He started a beat others joined from their seat.
Line upon line he rapped words with rhyme.
Then, point to a classmate who would rap in time.
It was so much fun to see faces aglow.
When he pointed to me, I used poetry.
From that day forward, when he was in my class,
He would ask me to write a class poem, alas.
They would give me a topic and a few key words.
The students worked first; then, my poem was heard.
They would listen to my poems line after line.
I can still see his face after all of these years.
The sparkle in his eyes untangled my fears.
Years later, I was bored out of my mind.
My hip disintegrated; I was confined.
What would I do? The answer, I could not find.
I remembered that boy and that he liked my work.
It was his and his classmates’ reactions –
They influenced me to take writing action.
I joined Poetry Soup; poetry became a love affair.
I met friends, studied forms and wrote anywhere.
Paper towels or notebook paper, it mattered not.
When away from my computer, I would jot.
That boy brought the beginning; self-confidence.
His cheery influence blessed me with lifetime joy.
They liked my poems; so, I wrote thousands more.
All of this because of one young boy who will never know,
It was his good-word raps that set my soul aglow.
March 8, 2017
Written for the Poetry Contest - Younger People Who Have Inspired You
Categories:
boisterously, inspirational, teacher, youth,
Form:
Rhyme
Oxymorons are cynical and fun.
Be careful though if you want to use one.
If it is familiar, it may sound quite trite.
Which murders your poem with a harsh bite.
Deafening silence is way overdone.
Boisterously shy is a good one though, hon
Brilliant idiot may be available in a tweet.
But avoid cliques like bittersweet.
Categories:
boisterously, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
Show me your hands. Do they have scars from giving? Show me your feet. Are they wounded in service? Show me your heart. Have you left a place for divine love? Quote by Fulton J. Sheen
Nature has no underdogs, myths may be false,
Those with no love seem to be caught in a waltz.
To adjust our hurdles, we meticulously rehearse,
We reject being wounded in this erratic universe.
Our faith appears to have lasted since antiquity,
Being pulled by the wind, unfettered by eternity.
We are bound by the rules of nature's— sway,
Not ready to face even the least severe decay.
Hands were utterly washed in widows' tears,
Too often, resonating gunfire rippled in my ears.
Fear has numbed souls as an effect of swift hope,
I'm aware we may prevail over all this via scope.
Plainly, the soldiers' wounds are spewing blood,
And ooze as mud in a leader's spring-tide flood!
The white in the house is turning a rich crimson,
And it appears that our freedom can't be won.
As they said, we have a slim chance of winning,
We'll never prevail over hate in the mind's sting.
We're in a quagmire over the filth we've been told,
Yet further soldiers rise into a cloud—cold.
Broken spirits drenched in bloody destiny,
Frustrated by the final result for evil zestily.
Chronic delusions of woebegone escape,
Vociferating boisterously below Liberty scrape
A cloudless sky is charred by a radiant, bright light,
And charcoal floats up, stroking my dangling feet.
Below lies a blazon of bleak, dark, stinging plight,
The dead, however, have no awareness of defeat.
Many wounds whisper in our view as we get near.
As the earth weeps alone, seek renewal with tear.
Finding our kin who were sold on the dark web,
Untruth now flows, and people's faith does ebb.
1St Place Contest Winner
Written: May 22, 2023
This or That, Vol 18 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
boisterously, analogy, anxiety, bereavement, child
Form:
Rhyme
When did this ambivalence fluxed into happiness,
When this happiness boisterously took over mind’s stagnancy,
Till today I had bounded it to mere laughter,
Till when I kept waiting for my jocundity in the mere faces around,
Didn’t I know,
All this already puns in my heart,
Ah this happy-Ness dwells in my very self,
Really this very essence of my life, resides in my soul!
This serenity, in which I actually float, furtively I say,
Didn’t I know,
Of this poignant happiness,
When my sight is blessed with their faces,
It is stunning me out of the bizarre conventionality,
From where am I being enlightening? With this happiness,
Didn’t I know,
Even under darkness, this happiness is fondling me,
Making my life utopia,
this is Providence, surely,
it is all around me and in me,
really didn’t I know !...
To be happy for no reason,
To be grateful for having life,
To be nurtured and loved unconditionally,
To appreciate this beauty of deflection of life,
Before …of This happiness, really! didn’t I know !
.......................................................................................................
dedicated to my parents (they are all i have), and to the friends who accompany me on poetrysoup, thankYou so much ,for appreciation and love, all of you .
Categories:
boisterously, beautiful, cheer up, father,
Form:
Ghazal
One obnoxious orangutan ordered oysters
Staff sympathetically said such supplies sold
Constantly complaining confronting chasing customers
Barred because before being boisterously bold
Two timid tigers tragically trembled
While watching woeful weasels wrestle
Standing straight shaking subconsiously scared
Displaying discomfort dizzy dribbling dreadful
Three talented turkeys taught tricks
Creating courageous crazy circus clowns
Amazingly always attempting additional acts
Frolicking foolishly finally forgetting frowns
Four fabulous flamingos fixed fences
Gigantic glamorous gardens generously grew
Proud pedestrians passing praised perfection
Beautiful bouquets blissfully blended blue
Five fussy frogs found french fries
Every enchanting experience eagerly entertained
Loudly laughing licking lemon lollipops
Sharing sarcastic smirks showing shame
12 April 2016
Categories:
boisterously, animal,
Form:
Alliteration
Born in Cincinnati that buckeye state
January 13th 1959 – 57+ years to date
A tangle of arms & legs testing lungs, which sounded great
He kind of resembled a misshapen octopus with oval pate
Glowering inxs of deep purple from blue mood being irate
Thrust out the womb of Harriet Harris whom Boyce did date
After courting this youngest Kuritsky kin whose ill-fate
Whisked by grim reaper, which demise she did hate
For her being imbued with vim and vinegar til illness ate
Away her je nais sais quois personable maternal trait
Evident during my boyhood reflected by her son of late
As he too inches closer to his mortality and Hades gate
Aware that each day ought to be cherished as the rate
Of time courses down that zip line where grim reaper does wait
Attired in brand name hoodie swinging scythe across oblate
Spheroid i.e. terrestrial firmament – though many years some great
Yet to be lived – trying to recapture childhood bliss before freight
Train on a collision course toward self-destruction ala tete a tete
With Anorexia Nervosa as thy then coveted deadly mate
A brutal hellish spiral down into abysmal depths of despair did create
Indelible psychological affects undermined existence I now equate
writ horrendous emotional, physical and social upon head of mate
Pledged his troth (almost 2 decades ago), which spouse doth berate
For lack of expressed concern and attests schizoid psychic slate
irrevocably seared and stunted natural development where I rate
prepubescent, early adulthood mental illness did grate
Against once boisterously playful innocent boy crushed potentate
Only male heir from me deceased mother who tried to extirpate
Mailer daemons who forged suicide pact and via voice did dictate
Albeit without success, yet decry forsaken innate
Experiences with female relationships lured my own poisoned bait!
Categories:
boisterously, age, angst, anniversary, anxiety,
Form:
Bio
Things begin turning around and very
slowly they take a nasty foreboding twist
as Hell's Dragon has not breathed yet
a deep burning fire melting red his eyes
dripping blood upon fury and destruction
pumping inside the uncontrollable fire
equal to that of a thousand steamboats
and only he sleeps in the dark dungeons.
Chained and suffering in utter Hellfire
chained in untold torment and anguish
unleashed he would burn your heart no less
in a flash—while scorching all to nothingness
fried black from the deepest ashes falling
cold silently sleeping with wings on fire and
chained to love’s weakness as the dark fables say:
Do Not Call Upon This Beast—He’s The Devil’s Own.
Hell’s Dragon stirs inside with tongues of flames
lashing with the pains of hate to strike all now
leaving hottest cinders and funeral pyres a plenty
it’s now the Devil’s very moment to unleash His Evil,
His Demon Dragon upon the saintly and the pure
and the precious doing their good works and all
and unsuspecting of the malevolence awaiting them.
The Devil enters afresh the earthly plane once more and
releases His Dragon to inflict harm and to upset
God’s celestial equation of peace, harmony, and light—
bringing death, destruction, and retribution to all in
its flight path while breathing out the harshest and
cruelest and hottest flames of fiery perfidy in the
name of Lucifer—Himself laughing boisterously at God
all the while not knowing the coming angelic answer.
The Almighty Lord works indeed in the most mysterious
of ways and He will not let his Fallen Angel Lucifer (or
“The Devil” on Earth) have His way by murdering
innocents through His Dragon proxy only too willing to
serve His Master to bring horrible hideous death to all
of mankind who fall within its flight path and intention
to inflict the most treacherous and dastardly plan of
of unmitigated death and horror ever to be unleashed.
Continued burning flesh 2
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 28, 2014)
(Free Verse poetic format)
Categories:
boisterously, angel, dark, emotions, heaven,
Form:
Free verse
The Waiting Room
The April weather shifted high to low,
Exposing those early clout casters
To the concluding bite of winter;
Footsteps full of foreboding
Trudge their last legs up the inclined driveway
To the Doctor’s old house.
A hotchpotch of chairs and wooden benches
Cling to the borders of the waiting room
A ballroom of romance for the sick.
In varying degrees of ill-health
A gamut of the townspeople
Chorus a cacophony of coughs
Sniffling and wheezing feverishly,
While the readers’ digest stale stories
From the well-thumbed publications.
Eyes darting around the room
Surveying the afflicted to kill the time
Conjecture at the probable cause and severity;
Childlike comparisons to ones’ own condition.
A new mother fails to stifle a yawn
Spreading contagion to the assembled
Her flushed snoozing baby
Unaware of her blaming chatter.
Life-weary pensioner invited to the inner sanctum
Chilled to the bone, sciatica stricken,
Accepts the decree of the medic
Without question or comment.
His framed degree, long faded,
Enough to stifle her to silence
His stethoscope, as a Priests garb
To her, underpinning his status.
Two codgers still await their summons
More regularly neighbours at the bar
Boisterously chatting across the room
For the oblivious benefit of the throng;
Socialising symptoms best supressed
Public bravado before their private hearing,
Selective honesty, the order of the day.
Quiet couple with obviously hidden issue
Whisper conspiratorially in the half lit room
Embracing the background murmur
And the dimness, aid to their privacy.
Vice-Captain of the junior team,
Fit, and embarrassed at his minor disorder
Conjures up exaggerated “near death” vocabulary
For future reportage to the team
His shame cajoled into the ether
By his twisting of the physicians’ imagined words.
And all the while the waiting room remains
Constant, a silent witness to all ills.
Categories:
boisterously, health, humorous, life,
Form:
Free verse
*Poetry - Invisible Touch*
Poetry's not avowal, a destiny
Being outside class, feel visibility
By a touch of words, breathtakingly
Language changes universe, make it easy
Jewel crown made of gems, worthy
Here lies a gem, shape of rhyme, glaringly
Whole with sound and words, boisterously
Tear my heart and soul, like never be
Vividly, mind sees a way of clarity
Toward high places, absolute and free
Poetry shouts wisdom, man can see
Thru a glorious touch of the invisibility.
Busaba Patanawiroj
7.10.2010
Categories:
boisterously, art
Form:
A milk bottle of combustion is a silver tongued spoon. A dragon headed fortress underground. Weaving wavering waving wandering. A teaspoon of cataclysm in giant catacombs. Dominatrix circles and whirlpools. How very stylish Madame de feetoo. While festooned on a chaise long is a long time whilst chatting and chinking is rife. Apples didn't mix with pubic pubescent pineapples as lineage is deemed of the utmost importance. To preserve one's wealth signifies a heraldic crest in a pickle colour glow. But wisest are the tiny heads in jars preserved who whisper their knowledge in scientific chambers. Cloisters closeting closing cloaks. And a large duck head on a man's body lurching lecherously. Leaking. Leaving. Lest no one fault I the time orb of clayon spoke a boulder boisterously. And a dark ridge arriving. Completion is formed from the sipping of secretions from an ancient elderflower. But a bud is neither a woven skirt or a large car. It is found on a very big bus. Busy then? Good. Small boy child weeping. And a silver glasses case watching. And an ornate cane topped with an acre of crystal. Chink then. Great isn't it. When the news explodes the crisis deepens. And waters rise. The hidden submarine planted it's crop paid by coffers. In a sporadic format. Boom then. No idea for the ways. It is left for the duties to a house to perform. And a ministerial magenta. Magna carta is a a little peanut swimming in butter on a plate. And a dust particle is very very versatile so swing in trees then spin over. Good. Grabbing going glooping getting gone gone Gideon gone gone. Powdered like snow or sugar floating. Sap not a silvery spit. And a spotted tie is not very mature is it? Takeaway beans. Fantastic. Very flavoursome. Opinionated officials oversee offices. And a giant bee weighing over 200,000,000.00 kilos. In a fancy dress show. Xo xo xo and done. Xxxx rationalisation xxxxx outnumbered xxxxx testator gator Gatorade xxxx arbitrational Z
Categories:
boisterously, best friend,
Form:
GUYS WILL BE GUYS
^ ^ ^ ^^
guy frogs are boisterously loud
quacking their throats, they feel male-proud
a stern warning to shoo
will invite crazed cuckoo …
so, no big bug meal was allowed
same creatures eyed a cute woman
got white legs, tads acted human
wiggling their green noses
with a throw of roses…
turns out, she was an old ermine!
……………
© rights reserved
* don't guys act like frogs, chimps, and vice-versa?
such are men, kidding, moe!... :)
*Ermine is a weasel with a tail and brown , furry hair. :)
Contest:
John Freeman’s “ Limericks Hilarious”
By: nette onclaud
Categories:
boisterously, fantasy, funny, , cute,
Form:
Limerick
The lies spill effortlessly out of your mouth
creating a noisome, foul odored puddle of bull
where it seethes and bubbles
and eats through the floor of trust
I once had for you.
Your heart beats noisily
thumping boisterously through your chest
producing ripples of panic and guilt
drowning out the last thoughts of hope
I once had for us.
Clenched teeth hold back chaotic tears
grinding on the enamel of hysteria and rage
exposing the dark cavity of repulsion
Crushing the last bit of sanity
I once had.
Categories:
boisterously, anger, break up, goodbye,
Form:
Imagism
Measly shadows, painted on the promise of darkness,
stretch across the open fields,
as nature changes her complexion.
Lake Erie, a bright orange, burns
while the sun plunges into speculation.
The egrets know it is coming;
boisterously, they perform the ritual of the twilight.
Children sneak the last play,
as the darkness tiptoes in.
The soft wind carries the thoughts of creatures stirring;
mortals warming up for the thrills of the nightlife.
Joy is pending, laughter is imminent,
but death will take its toll.
It’s the tale of two jungles existing side by side.
The dusk, at a snail's pace, settles in;
the sickle-less reaper of souls.
There are strange affairs when these jungles come alive.
Categories:
boisterously, life, nature,
Form:
The flowers in bright blossom,
With leaves a deep green hue.
Butterflies gently fluttering,
Boisterously pollinating the plants.
Banana laden plants,
Plentiful papaya filled trees;
Splendid rustic roses ,
Swaying to the winds.
Squirrels scampering all around
The green grass carpet.
And Cuckoos cooing casually,
Commemorating comely nature.
That's nature at its best.
Earth's boundless bountiful prosperity,
An inherent intelligence at work;
Grace of the unseen hand of God.
Categories:
boisterously, god, nature,
Form:
Prose Poetry