Best Brashness Poems
How can I fetch what's inside me?
It's a mental scream I can see,
They had poured fear through my mind's crease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
There has been a real stage play,
Rumbling in the chasm and airway,
This caused the effect of the cease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
Screaming voices drove me insane,
Shooters, killers, and guns again,
Frail life blights me on endless lease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
We yield what we hear, but we hear,
In our blood, others' scars are clear,
We wipe tears but also decrease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
My wounds are still bright in my mind,
Anguish since the long-term rewind,
Out of sight, cracked into pieces,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
We're together despite the waves,
Thrilled as tides rush us to the caves,
Earth seems to cast us a release,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
We plant hope as a human seed,
Love grows in the other being's deed,
These keen emotions can't surcease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
What if rain wipes tears of sadness?
We'll free ourselves from the brashness,
Teases to shed tears of caprice?
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
Whether you cry from pain or bliss,
It's not rain that makes that abyss,
Crying is nature, human peeps,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
My sorrow is couched in downpour,
Sobbing has not yet come down more,
I chafe drenched while I wait for cease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
Behind my face, that beams a smile,
Long, twisty, and pitch-black road style,
Secret cries have been rife with geese,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
Checked by HMS.COM/ 8 syllables.com
1St place contest winner
Written: November 14, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
brashness, analogy, angst, bereavement, cry,
Form:
Kyrielle
Warm, sticky hands palm off dry, self-centred ground,
Touched by gingerly acclaiming seeds of new-borns:
Ready, willing and eager for the harsh, expecting role,
Supposedly not with any crudeness, brashness or horns;
As we sit in it, my tears embrace his spritely youth,
And I ask for forgiveness for my naive, vigorous misdeed:
He secures me with his smile and instinctive composure,
Such that I no longer trepidatiously have to sweat and bleed;
Permanency fairly permeates my fearful, angered heart:
The hope of someone else to tease the difficult, awkward task;
My failure becomes his promise, and his foundation strong,
So that the demand is no longer a mountainous, rocky ask.
When you yourself cannot conquer the rough terrain,
Your friends and lovers attend to take the strain.
2nd of October 2015
Categories:
brashness, appreciation, forgiveness, friendship, love,
Form:
Sonnet
The moon was looking blank faced at the earth
Then teased her with shy intermittent stares
She confidently wore her sense of worth
And turned away insouciantly aware
As they spun he eyed her more intently
To search the outer beauty she possessed
In silence danced with shadows moving gently
While beams of curiosity assessed
He searched her waters, calculating depth
They sparkled his reflection as he probed
Affronted by the brashness of his quest
She gathered clouds around her like a robe
Disgusted by the moon she turned away
He left her there to welcome in the day
Categories:
brashness, fun,
Form:
Sonnet
Rules
In life, it is a give and take.
However, for some it is just take and take.
For others, it is only fulfilling to know
that something is different
because the Lord woke you this day,
as He does every day,
before He brings you home.
Write something beautiful,
make it worth reading.
Play with the letters and the form.
Change the colors and the pictures,
move them all around.
This is important to someone... today!
Now go up to the top,
and pick thee more at random,
poems, shorts and quips.
Read other people's words,
to sharpen and feed your own.
Know that they struggle
and they dance,
know that they have a life,
and a chance...
like all the rest.
Give them words of encouragement...
Write them letters of worth.
Tend to the garden of which we all plant...
remove the weeds, unless we can't.
Cut the roses in a giant bouquet,
let the colors be just those...
those of the day.
Teach each other about acceptance, and tolerance.
Stop apathy over-exuberance
and peel away brashness,
in favor of her little sister...
kindness.
Share the fame,
know the game...
of loving and belonging...
as we each need each other,
more than we know.
Categories:
brashness, angel, celebration, heart, hope,
Form:
Free verse
The sweetest vision
The tongue cannot taste
She secretly teases me
With amazement amazingly
Restraint, you see has no basis
My heart traces her laces
Come unwound in the
Shade happiness has its way
As GLADNESS of the day
Sunshine specialty will begin
And then it gradually fades
Into the horizon of the eastern sky
Scream it with brashness
Adoringly lightly caress every piano key
Mean it with every breath forsaken
My heart's been given a chore
I feel it my tender lover
Can you feel this?
We are so close together
We are now one another
We've become each other
Sweet my gentle tenderly
Touching me, she says
I LOVE YOU AGAIN
I whisper, there is no shame
I love you the same
Steady steady misty breaths
Of rich and brazen fascination
Lazily labor in Passion's pleasingly
Poisonous rain I say one last
Goodbye I say I love you
The same a burning Passion to
Blame LOVE IMMORTAL REMAINS
Categories:
brashness, conflict, emotions, love, motivation,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Part Two
Till October comes around with its bounty
The granary stuffed to the full
Lush fruits still pulpy and juicy
Ripen to a filthy rashes on skin brashness
The greenness of innocence
Turned to an over-ageing dun-yellow
Tell-tale sickening silliness
Soon detached the firm leaves will lie
Thick on the ground spurned and trampled
Earlier than the appointed hour
No matter
Recourse to pins and stitches
Breast uplifts
Straightened nosebridges
Dead Indian women’s chevelures
High straining buttressing stilts under heels
And thick sticky chemical tasting paint
Squeezed carcasses concentrated musk
Furs of bludgeoned seals and foxes
Haute couture paid through bankers’ loots
Or the easy secret service paid trysts
Through hard-earned tax payers’ sweat
In five-star deluxe hotels
Will lengthen the hour
Yet
In the boudoir
Yes
Pity the woman
She has but a score years
from teen to thirty-five
Before men take her
for a whore
Some women know this well
And cleverly work to use this sell
She’ll kick and thrust her lolly chops
from bum to cheek
In the later Heaven’s southwest sky
Fascination oozing from her loins
The sacred portals of propagation
Bruised all over under fire-dragon skies
Bloody a limb or two out of joint
and the gnawing ignominy
Of having relented in June
Sowing your wild oats
with the blessings of 13.7 billion years
The trained and disciplined chromosomes
Without the company on whom to work her wiles
and sap nourishing energy to continue
She’ll seek the riotousness of her ilk
and at autumn’s summit
At the height of smoldering flesh
When worms and germs
will make a merry feast
Of the beast in her meat
Let her fade away with her booty
Seek not to set right wrongs
You have only yourself to blame
For thinking easily entered gamboling
Will not be made out to be your aim
For weren’t you then the spirit consoling
© T. Wignesan, May 10, 1987 (rev. 2012, from the collection: Lessons of Change, 1987)
Categories:
brashness, natural disasters, work, work,
Form:
Free verse
graduated cum laude
with a PhD in madness,
practitioner of your
own philosophy as
the harbinger of doom,
tales of darkness where
the deck is always stacked,
what's the sense of light
to an austere night
or spring's flourish
mid winter's brashness,
you don't need to be
a rocket scientist
to diagnose absurdity
Categories:
brashness, allegory, allusion, conflict, crazy,
Form:
Free verse
Some people like to throw away
Things others consider a treasure
They simply are so ignorant
Of how it’s worth to measure
They think that because it’s old
It is ugly and outdated
That’s often how people feel
About the ones that have mated
They always look for something new
Something that is stream lined and sleek
And so the old they set aside
With brashness at the new they peek
Myself, I’m an ardent lover
Of antiques in all their splendor
My father taught me their true worth
I care for them with hands tender
I do confess antiques take time
To restore to an earlier state
A lot of effort is needed
To make these precious antiques great
Relationships are much the same
The older are more tried and true
They just take more love and more care
To make them compete with the new
So dear, don’t you dare throw me out
In love’s massive garage sale
The new may be more enticing
But that buy’s surely bound to fail
You’ll soon tire of simple lines
And long for the fullness of me
So, stick to this old antique, boy
I’ll make you happy as can be!
So polish me here and over there
Bring out my original shine
Caress me here and over there
I’ll serve you and make your life fine.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
brashness, beauty, loss, love, relationship,
Form:
Quatrain
Forest floor matted with the detritus of time;
Underworld denizens in their castles sublime.
Tight aerial ropes, loosely dangling from above,
A veritable paradise; proof of His Love.
Brilliant gems of the summer bedazzling our eyes;
Summer's regalia, like the alligator's sigh,
Verdant ferns lining, ev'ry shaded nook and path,
Drenching rains of the Season - a midsummer's bath.
Canopies of the summer's sweet, succulent grapes,
Black ribbons slithering in the warmth of a brake.
Burrows of the Gopher each protected by man;
Titillating wild blueberries in the hot sands.
Grand ole' sentinels towering o'er all below,
Proper and distinctive in their very best clothes.
Their paper facades their very essence of being;
Loyal cones in their summits, all overseeing.
Little masked creatures, eyes spying out from the bush,
Betrayed by their brashness, becoming a blush.
Any tidbits released, they're right there on the spot;
Cute as a pup, these miniature bandits are not.
Serenity surpassing all else you may search,
A Red-Crested Woodpecker smiles down from his perch.
Lost in the riddle of a woodland reverie,
An unforeseen moment of treasured memories.
Categories:
brashness, appreciation, inspirational, muse, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Lone Wolf…
He is the irony unto his lonesome self
Thrust upon this world
A cub youngling
He absconds from family
In search of something else
The Lone Wolf…
A spirit found, a spirit lost
Travails path of storm and wind
Looking and seeking
The nomad hunter without friends
Loneliness the only cost
A Lone Wolf…
Forever bearing the intensity of heart
Burning into mind’s eye
Sardonic is his never knowing
Consequence of playing part
Lone Wolf…
Finding refuge within darkness…
From fast approaching storms
But, sanctuary from his own madness…
Found only in brashness and honor
Of the soul that roams
The Lone Wolf…
Like the undiscovered serpent of the sea…
The soaring eagle
Longs only to be free
But instinct his jailer
And hunger his need
A Lone wolf…
A vanishing vagrant into long drawn shadows…
Woodlands of a twilight sun
Pursuing fresh quarry scents
Unsullied mate she wolves natal young’s
Lone Wolf…
His lonesome irony abets in its return
As nights timber penumbras tumble forth…
A semblance of spectral sirs
Whelps of innocence from the night to the lunar lights…
Do not go unheard
Categories:
brashness, natureirony,
Form:
Rhyme
January, you come in to applause,
As you nod goodbye to Santa Claus.
No other month is hailed like you.
You take for granted that's what we do.
Sometimes you're calm and sometimes wild.
Sometimes you're loved, sometimes reviled.
Depending on where in the world you be,
You are hated or loved, Mr. January.
In the North you're sure to come in cold
With brashness and a manner bold.
You save good manners for the South
When only warmth comes from your mouth.
We in the North will shut you out.
You can stay outside to rant and shout.
To us you're not a welcome guest.
You can be in fact, a dreadful pest.
Categories:
brashness, fantasy,
Form:
Personification
In with a bang out with a whimper
An American story reminiscent of old,
Brashness and vigor, street smart and temper,
Rising to greatness then collapsing stone-cold.
How could this happen in this day and age,
Have we not learned from lessons long taught,
But there lies the moral, we gave him the stage,
His victory gifted, neither stolen nor bought.
The reasons were many, the anger profound,
The swamp and it's dwellers entitled and deaf,
Their smugness alone caused Trump to be crowned,
With neither side listening, as each out of breath.
But what of the Media, greedy and loud,
They built up the story their coffers to fill,
This great institution at one time so proud
Debasing core standards their audience to thrill.
What next may we ask, back to the same?
Politicians grandstanding, jostling for power,
Caring little for action, just personal fame,
Riding the airways, seizing the hour.
Enough of this folly, time to unite,
Reason and truth need blossom anew,
Our democracy young, our future still bright,
Faith in our system we must now renew.
Categories:
brashness, character, political, power, society,
Form:
Quatrain
A seasonal malaise plasters
stray tendrils of wayward thought.
Another dreary gray day hovers.
Vacant is the sky, as empty as the
surface of an unwritten page.
On days such as these the mind strays
through the attic’s dusty remnants.
Times freezes mid tick.
Stale…and salt less..simpering day,
humming to the background noise of distant stars.
Age has brought with it a leathery sensation,
as crusty, picked over bundles of brashness
failing to ignite the fires of laggard thought.
Severing the ties, the starched cotton strings
of apron which held the crumbs of motherhood,
hopefully, causes a rising of, if not a phoenix...
perhaps, a cardinal of a different Spring.
Juices from a dry well, well, perhaps not dry?
Crisp, precise, if unpunctual, cookie fortunes
flutter upward, on curled strips of sugar coated white.
Who is to say, who is to be, the center
the jam in the depressed hollow of my life?
Let the mind soar for a settlement of glee.
Let it roar for the loss of flexibility and
trumpet a coming of age so rare…
for it is not madness which hovers
in the grey of dawn, or the wet bleak day,
but, the elegant solace of silver strands
their tendrils spreading unhindered
cuddled among the cue, not vacant at all.
Waiting…waiting to breathe.
Categories:
brashness, life, peace, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
Exceptional times require exceptional measures
In our everyday lives we experience this truth
Times of stress, or, in rare incidence for pleasures
A challenge from our peers sparking curiosity,
Provoking us to engage in the most insane ruse
Wisdom shows itself in most annoying paucity
Comes the time when we eschew such rashness
But, in youth, almost every adventure is novel,
So, we entertain ourselves in unabating brashness
And exceptional times are replaced by maturity
Having experienced almost everything before
Comes the time when exceptional measures bore.
Written May 2, 2022
Categories:
brashness, growth, life, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
One of the keys to happiness is mental quietness
a perceptive covering that operates on all fellness
And shall not incite one's heart pound emptiness
Start by being enthralled, then settle into stillness
Flee out of bed. Your feathers will hasten your brashness
We went on a quixotic to the darkest areas, tasteless
The springs rate boom as it grows the sturdy femaleness
The splendor of a full moon hung in the space darkness.
Out of bloom cherries are primed for neatness.
Ranches with lovely shades and surface wetness.
Orchards of lovely colors and textures, readiness.
Divine clean lips send heavenly voice pureness.
Delightful rapt echoes of a vivacious life sweetness
Written: May 21, 2021
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
ALL YOURS (Jun 12) Poetry Contest
Categories:
brashness, appreciation, beach, beautiful, beauty,
Form:
Free verse