Best Broadened Poems
Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll
On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing and clambering
We roll and meander
impetuously twiddling all the way
atop gregarious green promenades
we pause in slight delay
as we prattle and prance
as we dance to the Crickets singing
nodding to their fiddling
frolicking with all the jiggling
Serendipitous stalks
of snickering flowers pop
to dazzle and razzle our wits
we glide in stripes of candy bits
of rainbows bright
Purple painted paisley
fragrantly flairs in pairs
of scented lavender sweetness
among black-eyed daisies
dusting the woozy air
in a meadow’s billowing bloom
sunflowers sunbathe in costume
We giddily tarry
as we carry
a feast of fancies and treats
artsy bits of charmed delicacies
filled with a peck of upcoming kisses
enticing fantasies that wink
Snuggling shenanigans lead us astray
as we find our rootie-tootie hideaway
hugs as we shy away
from tomfoolery jesting
to lay down and swoon
looking up at the soon to be stars
lingering for the coming of the moon
Murmurs of Starlings
gaggle their harmonies
of chirps
in cheeks and broadened beaks
thrumming tiny melodies.
Swallows sweep and woo
fixated on this unabashed swain
through songbird strains
announcing a shrilling review
broadening in sweet refrains
“I love you…I love you”
Fingerpainting the Monet sky
puffy white cotton words appear
from clouds passing by
while tiny violins spin in the air
piccolos peep
pigeon-toed Doves coo and weep
their contentedness to appease
trailing off the pleasant breeze
I fall upon my knees
My words explode to strew
like a thousand storms set free
“I love you…I love you…I love you”
When tongue is silent, but muse is chanting - that's poetry.
When we write what the heart has been asking - that's poetry.
As dawn's hues glisten golden rays, in blue, bronze, orange skies,
musings mirror daydreams, so enchanting - that's poetry.
Butterflies smooch cosmos, as bees sip on dahlias nectar.
Scents of deep red roses start enhancing - that's poetry.
Clement air pleasantly overwhelms with pleasures of love,
muse becomes a bard lost in romancing - that's poetry.
Mentality turns dark when clouds spread densely like ash smoke.
Scarlet ink screams tears to stop storms advancing - that's poetry.
In shades of loneliness, thoughts reach out to our loyal moon,
beneath her moonlight we sojourn, standing - that's poetry.
A heart is healed by spoken words composed with compassion.
Poets smile when they see sad lips laughing - that's poetry.
As sands of sorrow pause, soul glows like a million fireflies.
Nature's metaphors leave our pens dancing - that's poetry.
Stale ink dehydrates and thoughts become segments of cement,
mind is a machine, where words keep jamming - that's poetry.
Daylight or night, bed, bath or driving, lyricists inspired
by sunshine, snow or when rain is lashing - that's poetry.
Word weavers scribbling sonnets, free verse and poetic prose,
forming imagery instead of ranting - that's poetry
Silent One, writes to honour Rumi, Shakespeare and Wordsworth,
In hope my words will be everlasting - that's poetry.
The Silent One
29 August 2020
An example for the Ghazal contest.
This Ghazal has a two worded refrain. Slightly different in format to previous ghazal, I posted, called 'Only the moon understands.'
This one has 14 syllables each line.
There are different definitions for a Ghazal, and different interpretations of the from.
Ghazal poetry is poetry of longing. Traditionally, the ghazal tended to focus on unattainable love, often illicit, or sometimes on metaphysical questions. But, today, the ghazal has broadened to touch many types of longing and loss.
The ghazal is a form poem that uses the art of rhyme and repetition. As it is originally a Persian form and the Indian subcontinent, the refrain and rhyme can be lost when translated to English, as is the meter.
I had a quarrel with my own life
I didn’t want to divulge it to anyone I knew
It was then I met the one who in many eyes,
Had sparked feelings of sympathy or contempt
Confined to a wheel chair in a hospital room
Amid the smell of death and disease,
He looked so resigned to his fate
With a rare gleam sparkling his eyes
Convalescing after his sixth surgery,
Still having bouts of excruciating pain
What made me drawn to him, I cannot tell
Later I met him at his home several times,
Still on wheelchair, crooked and disfigured,
But with what stoic nonchalance,
He accepted his condition-
Cerebral palsy, a disease affecting all his limbs
He said it was after years of questioning
That he had learnt to take on his disability
It broadened his understanding of suffering
Giving him deltas of new insight...
He knows now, the stars would be brighter
Only with the light completely blown out!
Even when the ground falls beneath his feet
He finds a way to rise up from the ground
With every step he takes, he feels it better than yesterday
And waits for tomorrow in anticipation
Because he has made it today!
Sure he reigns as a true hero, stirring a spark
In the ash covered cinders of my heart
July. 28.2022
~Placed First~
To Honour my Hero Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabisoon
You are so much more than your hips or your thighs.
More than the stares and the glares, or some young man’s lies
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH
More stunning than the Mona Lisa
Your likeness can’t be molded into sculpture
you are living, breathing art.
You are not defined by your body,
Only your soul and your heart
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH
When you look in the mirror, please see more than your reflection.
See the essence of beauty
a work of perfection.
You are the inheritance of the promise.
You are the covenant unbroken,
You are cries unheard
and words unspoken
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH.
You are much more radiant than the stars
you are breathtaking constellations
You are a valley of virtue.
A Lady in waiting
You are shores of compassion surrounding oceans of faith
You are the much needed cool, caressing breeze, on a hot summer’s day.
You are the eighth, ninth, and tenth wonder of the world
Much more precious than diamonds and pearls
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH
You are more mystifying than the pyramids of Egypt,
More spectacular than snow caped peeks of Sweden
Your presence was predestined in the Garden of Eden.
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH
You are the silver lining stretching across the sky,
Broadened with truth, both gentle and meek
You are the earth’s horizon where land and sky meet.
You are a Queen, and upon your head you bare a crown
Adorned in wisdom, courage and strength
A most magnificent gift of GOD,
you are truly heaven-sent
But you have to know your worth
"Had I not broadened my menu, I never could have developed Good Taste"
With all these ingredients, that have simmered in this soup
Has made some tasty dishes, from caviar to poop
With chefs from 'round the world, and recipes sublime
Has made their kind of poetry, a favorite meal of mine
PS: the part mentioning the poop (pooh) is attributed mainly to Jan Allison's contributions in the Soup, You've Got to Love Her !
Ah, drifting leisurely inside the cloud,
Watching hot sun’s rays glance across the nose
of the winged drone, stealthily slipping proud,
I drifted so peacefully through the floes.
Updrafts from silent streams beneath arose
lifting craft’s nose, unexpectedly plowed
through looming cumulus's potential foes,
Ah, drifting leisurely inside the cloud.
My teeth clinching, I bared tense lips so proud;
Sensed gusts of air across the broadened floes,
Kissed cerulean sky above allowed
Watching hot sun’s rays glance across the nose.
Fecklessly, thoughts wondered how high she goes
before narrow cockpit collapsed to shroud,
and leaps of joy turned into flailing woes
of the winged drone, stealthily slipping proud.
For a moment, my breathing burst aloud,
A sudden chill, fear inside my chest froze
leaps of joy turned to sad, flailing allowed,
I drifted so peacefully through the floes.
I shall land on the grassy field unbowed
Receive the welcomed accolades from those
who soloed the winds, powerless, uncowed
by dangers the upper sky chose to pose,
Ah, drifting leisurely.
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written/Edited March 1, 2021, slightly modified May 21, 2022
for Rondeau Redouble - Life's Struggles contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
You are so much more than your hips or your thighs.
More than the stares and the glares
or some young man’s lies
More stunning than the Mona Lisa
Your likeness can’t be molded into sculpture
you are living, breathing art.
Not to be defined by your body,
Only your soul and your heart
When you look in the mirror,
please see more than your reflection.
See the essence of beauty
a work of perfection.
You are the inheritance of the promise.
You are the covenant unbroken,
You are cries unheard
and words unspoken
You are much more radiant than the stars
you are breathtaking constellations
You are a valley of virtue.
A Lady in waiting
You are shores of compassion surrounding oceans of faith
You are the much needed cool, caressing breeze, on a hot summer’s day.
You are the eighth, ninth, and tenth wonder of the world
Much more precious than diamonds and pearls
You are more mystifying than the pyramids of Egypt,
More spectacular than snow caped peeks of Sweden
Your presence was predestined in the Garden of Eden.
You are the silver lining stretching across the sky,
Broadened with truth, both gentle and meek
You are the earth’s horizon where land and sky meet.
You are a Queen, and upon your head you bare a crown
Adorned in wisdom, courage and strength
A most magnificent gift of GOD,
you are truly heaven-sent
But you have to know your worth
The Color of Oppression
They trespassed into the motherland bearing nothing but unknown gifts to our small minded leaders
Bartered with them for valuables far exceeding what they could offer in exchange
They drew on masks to conceal their fascist ideals towards us; they pretended to be our friends
Fake smiles were displayed as they greeted us, smiles that concealed their wicked hearts from our midst
My ancestors impressed by sugar, clothes, bibles, and rum sold their people for meager goods
Un-broadened minds restricted by sacred traditions, if only they knew
If only they knew what hell these white demons could bring, the hatred they harbored
They practiced mathematics on us as they divided my people
Our traditional setting, our cautious nature, our yet to be broadened minds
We fell victim as they did what aliens do to conquests…… Brain washed us
Like mineral resources my people were exploited, our minds filled with ethnic propaganda
They whispered lies we believed, lies that dampened our free spirits, and lies that chained our hearts
They imposed slavery, stole our riches with colonialism, imprisoned our minds with imperialism
Decades my people lay captive, their hearts beating to a common voice
A booming call was cast across the motherland; a call for freedom was issued
My people`s hearts became a group of lions, their hearts swelling with pride
White is the color of those who started the first and second world war
White is the color inflicting social injustice, instigating a social stereotype
White is the color of the truly wicked, the color of the third Reich
White is the color of the ashes left behind in Hiroshima and Nagasaki
White is the color of those who lynched my American brothers and sisters
White is the color of the Nazi and the Ku Klux Klan
Yet white is ironically the color of peace, love and tolerance
White is the color of shameful men, the color of a cancer with no treatment
White is the color of those whose power is dwindling with each decade
White is the color of the weak
White is the color of those drained of life, those ruled by death
White is the color of those defeated by true freedom
Tell them!
Look on to my face
And let fall the secret
We hided in the invisible bier
Of eternity
When all eyes and ears
were blinded and deafened
By sleep
Let the vultures
Of the evil forest
Spice my body
For a glamorous banquet!
Say it!
I have heard already
The gossip from the women
On the way to the stream
At dawn
From the Nayiri's gong beater
I have heard the fearful decree
And equally,
I have seen
the spears of monstrous laughter
Burst the cheeks of our foes
Sister,tell mama,
To weep no more
For when the stubborn fowl
Digs deep the ground
It exposes the bones
Of its ancestors
The mouse madly
Went to the cattery
To buy itself the meat
Of a kitten
Love,love,love!
like a cunning fox
Baited the hungry fowl
With the meat of a cockroach
And not could it have resisted
I knew forbidden
was the eaten fruit
But what cause or reason
Could have the dog
unleash the juicy bone
The broadened hips of Nasara
Made visible by her
Tight-shortened kente skirt
Could have made me
Grill my fingers
In a wild inferno unawarely
The sight of her
ladybird-like skinned beads
Lustfully stimulated me
And i would have mounted
A bull forgetfully
What of the well-filled erected
balls on her chest
That itched my palms always
For her round botty,
That swayed like a leave
Quaked by a violent tempest
Did nearly broke my neck
For vying with it always
In each direction it went
The fearful taboo of chastity
We have smitten
The womb of Nasara
Shelters the flesh of my blood
And there awaits no option
Other than a bloody execution
If tumorrow meet us not,
Remember the aged love song
We sang togather
When the full white moon
Came passing
Remember the soft chorus
I Joined in with
That silenced the envious song birds
The mucus may do it worse
But never does it go off
With the nose
I still remain your only cow boy
That robbed you milk and cheese
And paid the penalty
With my bare back
That suffered the pains
Of papa's whip…
By night eleven figures came to me
Unlocking doors that sealed shut long ago.
We travelled forward on a darkened sea
To sleepy Somnus’ cave, hidden below.
Eternal slumber gave me rich insight,
Transcribing knotted weavings made by Fates.
The desert day so soon becomes the night.
A pink adenium opens the gates.
The broadened wings of Letum drive whirlwinds
Destroying yet defining futile man.
This changeless contract Saturn can’t rescind.
This boundless desert wastes the best laid plans.
The vision fades away, the figures leave.
The Moon is made anew, no need to grieve.
With her darkened gaze filled with deepness
Under that curly hair of black ceases
A smile, as staggering, everlasting and pure
As she settles on a chair,
She crosses her legs and stretches out her arms on them
The curved line of muscles, so even so flawless
Which descends down to her chest
As broadened and extending
With breasts she tries to hide them
With her protruding scarf
As she pulls back her hair
Covering it with a long black veil
And stands up
As less confident she grows
Day by day
Era escaping time
Going back to home, she escaping into her portal
And changes her clothes,
Up close, her tight- sleeveless shirt reveals
As waist not as perfect, fat protruding from her skirt
Stretch marks appearing beneath her stomach
She hates herself, the way she looks
She watches all the shallow figures
All the pretty girls and their boys
Boys lifting girls in their arms
When?
Will the time come?
To get lifted by one?
A Queen of Beauty she will become
Her friend once told her, her mother had said that
She blushes with excitement but once again
Scatters with overwhelming sorrow
“Will I ever become The Queen of Beauty?”
She clings to false hopes
And wonders,
Will she survive?
Have she truly lived her life?
A sigh mixed with desperation and helplessness
Causes her to continue each day with the same thought
“ A Queen of Beauty, I will never become….”
I didn't find PSoup,
no, PSoup found me
I was a poet from my birth,
just not the poet I could be
Before coming to PSoup,
I was a message poet with my own style;
the words I delivered
could make you sad, could make you smile
I could make you sit down,
I could make you dance
I could make you want to throw hands,
I could make you want to catch romance
I knew how to mix my words,
I knew how to adjunct nouns, adjectives and verbs
And heaven help the poor soul that got on my nerve
All that being said from the son of a poet king,
a true poet knows that he doesn't know everything
Before coming to PSoup,
in terms of poetic forms, I didn't have a clue,
I didn't have an inkling
Terza rima, what??!!
Sapphic stanza, who??!!
After coming to PSoup,
I found out there were so many
poetic forms I never knew
But this is the best tasting part of my unlearned fondue,
I got to sample some mighty fine poetry
from the minds and hearts of all of you
So many styles and variety:
haiku and senryu, sonnet and ballad,
choka and jeuju, villanelle and etheree
I truly thank PSoup,
It has broadened the stroke of my pen
I can now put my message
in whatever size bottle that words can get stuffed in
“Cannot be named
Cannot be found,”
For in this effort--this person
Into non-Tao becomes wound.
The Tao was before time’s beginning.
The Tao is not found in complex systems,
But is revealed by listening to the heart,
To the oneness of all living things,
The honoring of all beings.
There is the start!
For the Tao has been
Endowed by nature to all.
Therefore, no need for grasping.
The Tao is to be found
In the silence between breaths,
By seals in the waves
Jumping in play,
By a caring hand on a
Fevered brow, there is the Way.
Father Merton wonders
Did St Francis join with the Tao,
And the Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree
Who showed
A way to end suffering
Brought on by attachment to anger,
Delusion and greed.
Thus the way of Tao, simplicity,
Release attachment to things.
The Tao has been called “Mother
Of all Truth and Life.”
This humble person must stop
For all this explaining is non-Tao
So she will stop
She will stop right NOW!
Referenced in many ways: “The Way of Chuang Tzu” by Thomas Merton.
In light of good memory of how things were, a woman stands unguarded.
Pleasantries, talents, and secretive skills.
I offered to you a drink, allowing you in.
Thinking I had chosen carefully over 37 others. This vexed me.
Read and reread the commentary side-by-side distant eyes and sad smile.
Extracting honesty from typed remarks.
When our eyes met for the first time and you had a smile that broadened
As I drew nearer through a sea of hurrying people, just knowing that it was you.
You felt like home, like mother's sweetened tea.
Later, a little scared to let you drink from my cup, to be your rebound.
You did not hold back your ale, I let you lead.
That first drink of you that sip of your lips, melted the iciness of my demeanor.
My thirst for you consumed better judgement. Intoxication of the moment quinched by your touch.
Offered to you my liquid that sheltered liqueur. Wine housed away deep within me.
Robust when allowed to air. Poured out slowly not to be bruised.
Your skin, your touch like sweet cream. Pouring into me.
To you I poured back mead. Whispering softness in dim moonlight.
Delightful nothings in each others ears.
Trusting the sincerity of a drunken mind.
Rapture in sleeping with you the first in a long time.
The next morning you left the taste of vinegar in a short, curt kiss.
So now several days pass and nothing not a hint of you anywhere.
I ask for closure you respond with the crux of the matter.
Hurtful this declarative statement of wanting to taste test more.
Almost more than I can bare. Though i did not mind being the mouth wash,
Removing the bitter taste of a day old tequila from your palate.
The aspirin for this hangover of past drunkenness.
Codependency in a relationship to this drink.
But that was not how I advertised myself.
You did not follow directions and warning labels.
More to the point, that was my lot in this sell in our path of life.
How we should meet, and offer coffers to one another.
Now I close this cask, and my cellar save what is left for another.
For I am not a lady who can stomach cheap beer and the after taste of malted hops.
It seems that man can never comprehend
The carnal thrust of lust we all must trust;
As human minds design no plan to end
Carnality 'till man converts to dust.
When facets of our lives are added new,
Atop existing layers of the truth,
Environments of learning do renew
The curious intensity of youth.
We are allotted exploitation needs
Of broadened exploration, to negate
Hyperbole and altered truth, that bleeds
Intolerance resplendent in its hate.
But time can lead a child inside deceit
Perpetuating common fallacies
Supported by revisionist conceit
Transparent in their false realities.
Revise, revise the facts you little whores
Enjoy the crime of falsifying past
And make it easy there behind closed doors
To witness fabrications that are vast.
The neo-nazis and the Ku Klux Klan
Deny the Holocaust and all its pain.
They claim the nazi's had no final plan
And such a plan would simply be insane.
The camps became infested with disease
Another reason many prisoners died.
And academics shouting out their pleas:
"The Jews had our sweet Savior crucified. "
Today the truth revised and falsified
Comes straight from printers who with pride omit
The aboriginal great genocide
That many witnessed our own troops commit.
They state that in the scheme of things so grand,
Elimination of a race though sad,
Is something that we all should understand
But teaching it makes Anglo's very mad.
But history without integrity
Is empty exercise of false belief.
To understate the state of slavery
Will give the racist only brief relief.
The founders compromised morality
Allowing slavery to long endure.
Incomprehensible duality?
Just keep the facts wrapped up and children pure.
For us to live and thrive if not survive
We must admit the errors first and last;
If not we find inside our final dive -
Oblivion of splintered fragments past!