Best Brokered Poems


Premium Member The Judgement Day

My Judgement Day is nigh at hand...
The outcome... far from certain.
Where some have claimed a piety...
Having peeked behind the curtain.

I've loved and lost... been tossed...
The winds of chaos at my back.
I've brokered kindness as a currency...
But still the Hounds attacked.

The slings and arrows of misfortune
Have been their own reward.
Did I rise to meet the challenge?
Will my service be ignored?

So on that day... that special day
When I answer for my deeds.
I trust the test is not too onerous
With the belief I might succeed.

But alas... I have scant information
About my future time and space.
My only hope... the question asked...
'Is the world a better place?'

                 The End

Walk of Shame

Starlets tender their heralded names
Just another pretty face; another superficial dame
Brokered pawns in tawdry, transparent game 
Bartered tinder is their trite acclaim
Stars that twinkled then imploded in combustible flame
Fickle lives; filthy lucre their singular aim
Pleasing the masses with articial drama their claim to fame
Egotistical debutantes who proudly gilded their shame
Fealty and familial bonds with pleasure they did cripple, mame
Fading memories that inspired more of the same
Burnished symbols remembered only by their surname

Say It Ain't So

I sought knowledge
I acquired wealth
I raised a family
I met my spiritual obligations
and paid my social dues,
Is this all there’s to life?
Say O Lord, it ain’t so!

I broke no hearts
I brokered no dubious deals
I was faithful to my vows
and lived within my means;
Is this all there’s to life?
Say O Lord, it ain’t so!

I dabbled in all forms of art
and savored classical music, 
Jazz, Rap and Rock n ’Roll
I immersed myself in the
world of literature,
I traveled to all the 
shores of the earth;
Is this all there’s to life?
Say O Lord, it ain’t so.

I dove deep into the
murky depth of envy,
I wallowed in the 
muck of self-pity,
I have flown high
on the wings of love
and descended into the
pits of hatred and jealousy;

Methinks there ain’t much else
If life can be summed up merely-- 
A tear here and a smile there,
A fall here and a rise there,
A melody here and a grunt there,
A sin here and a pardon there,
A peace here and a conflict there,
A life here and a death there...

I pray, O Lord…say it ain’t so!


~02/23/17
~Your Best poem 
in the last year contest by Silent One


Premium Member Brokered Finale

In your parched desert land
As the pendulum swings
And your friends are all gone
Still you’re moving right along
Like it doesn’t mean a thing

In your parched desert land 
Thinking life’s unforgiving
Why not swallow your pride
Take an honest look inside
Join the land of the living

In  your parched desert land
Your manufactured death valley
Kind response was so important
Yet your manner was discordant
Isolation’s blind alley

In your parched desert land
When they take the final tally
You’ll surrender the fight
Find exquisite delight
In your brokered finale






March 9, 2020
F F I series FINALE
Brian Strand, sponsor
© Mark Toney  Create an image from this poem.

Absconding Muse

My muse blew a fuse
Without excuse fealty did recuse
In jilting fashion without compassion 
Tendered passion did stingily ration
Lofty discourse from pen did divorce
With no remorse absconded every resource
My inspiration turned to perspiration
Hopeless itinerant somewhat penitent
The bartered lexicon I did recon
A vagrant shill seeking to rill
The run-off spill pages to fill
A pilfered title would move engine from idle
An embezzled theme would ideas stream
A trite rhyme would be sublime
A pawned metaphor to open the door
A brokered simile; a borrowed metonymy 
Would re-collect the literary dialect
Now shorn from mind so forlorn

The Sentinel

I stand alone under the glittering stars
Miles away from civilization, roads and cars
It could be snow, jungles or the desert sand
But I am watchful, vigilant, with a gun in my hand

Far away in the night, my little baby cries
My wife looks alive but every second she dies
Not knowing if I will return with gifts in a bag
Or as a gift to my nation, in a body bag

My eyes though alert belies a heart empty
With occasional visions of my friends and family
My ears strain to hear the cooing of my new born
But even that doesn't deter me from doing my duty sworn

My grit doesn't waver even when there's war around
When the tranquility is broken by gunfire's sound
I stand firm in my resolve to protect this nation
Every animal, every tree, every citizen

When peace is brokered, nature steps in
Testing me, my mettle, my will to win
I never leave behind even a dog stray
My human values, beneath my uniform, on display

I am told the nation resounds today with ungrateful talking
Bad mouthing me on another power's bidding
But these voices don't matter to the likes of me
You may be a prodigal son, but you are family

So make noise, rejoice, enjoy your liberty
While I leave no stone unturned in protecting thee
Till there's life in me I shall stand tall
Ensuring that this nation will never fall

In return I ask nothing; no awards, no glory
No recognition, no remembrance, no reference in history
My duty is to my motherland and her I shall protect
My chest will be a wall to every bullet


Christmas Tree: Organic Form, Artificial Symbol

Towering, organic orifice; 
Spiring, glistening steeple
Wholesome, organic form; 
Brokered, burnished symbol
Environmentally-conditioned 
organism; Artificially-renovated 
copse
Bland, earthy edifice; Bright, 
glowing orb
Dull, lifeless timber; Vibrant, 
veiled oracle
Shielded, sheltered ember; 
Shiny, showcased beacon
Soaring, sylvan sentinel; 
Stunted, cropped cinder
Cherished, nourished fodder; 
Chosen, sanctified shroud
Pristine, woody carbine; 
Refinished, domesticated 
chalice

Fabricated Charm

Token love tendered with a cheap card
Bartered lyric from a trite bard
Gilded, fabricated charm
Brokered, pretentious smarm
Words, symbols to treasure then disregard

Premium Member Happy Sparrow, Happy Me

No, there was nothing routine about a baby sparrow sitting helpless in a parking lane.  
Perhaps a rushing and less observing person would have run over the little lonely bird; But I will always believe that I was on assignment from God to save the life of a sparrow. The little birdie was in a very dangerous spot, and I immediately proceeded to rescue him.  

After I picked him up, I wondered to myself regarding the whereabouts of his mother and/or other loved ones.  Moreover, at this point I did not have a clue about what I would do with or for him.     I then looked upwards, lifted my arms, and released the sparrow to the opened sky.  The birdie flapped his little wings and away he went.                                            

The sight of those flapping wings is forever fixated in my mind, and that moment is among the proudest of my life.  No, I had not made a major contribution to heal the ills of the world, or found a cure for cancer, nor brokered a path to peace in the Middle East; But I had made all the difference in the life of a sparrow. There’s no moment that could have made me happier.

From my encounter with a sparrow on a sunny afternoon, I learned a most valuable lesson.  The differences that we make are not measured by us, but rather by the receiver.
  		
In a very real way, the sparrow was abandoned and left alone in a very dangerous place  to fend for himself.  If he needed food, I had none. If he needed water to cool his thirst, I had none.  I soon realized that I had nothing of value to offer the little sparrow.  That is, until I discovered that what the little birdie really needed was something I did have, and could give him.  He never needed me to teach him to fly, because he was born to fly.  I simply gave him a “lift”, and that was what he needed more than anything else.  My happiness stems from being able to give some kind of  “Lift”  to our world.

04182015 PS Contest, Happiness of Life, by Nayda Ivette Negron

Brokered Convention

The secret meetings taking place
Big Business and the rich
Planning changes to the voting
Letting them choose which

Candidates that were rebuffed
and no longer in the thick
People spoke "don't want their kind
now Big Business pulls a trick

Candidates convention votes
will then be cast aside
Brokered deals with shady scams
rewarding those that lied

Will (of the people) is ignored
Big Business does not care
They need control of President
and those whose views they share

Makes for dangerous precedent
they will not close the border
The peoples vote no longer counts
the start of New World Order

They're swarming across the border
the Citizens just frown
A Presidential mandate
Patrols ordered to "stand down"

Big business (ties to world banks)
The Brokering will be
To guarantee there's no revolt
The People can't be free.....
© Pete Yuhas  Create an image from this poem.

The Prophet - Son of Nun

  (  It seems the only thing eternal life has left me is eternal tears. 
For my lost son Christopher; named after the god who suffers. )



            


I knew you before I met you
cage crossing through mad books

your stainless leap
forcep-blessed
matrix-reprieved

weaving bled-shred
embers to god-pled
braving 

the cairn of night
to do full

dubious ends
god's just

flung to hijacked earth as
after-thought
of finer stone

slashed lash skin broke to Moses hues
whose mode struck cursed
to sudden wander

to tower-armed berths annexed next in
your voyeur's finger rage
to run abducted through heuristic sunk-end heads
and sacrifice your brokered queen 

prove your tongue-burning tears
a strangled pen

inched favor from chain-shell shouts 
sieved by sheltering friends

savaged the race-card feeds 
fouled in chilling fidgets

glyphed everyman's advance
to cherish one ascending

giving divinity thought-shadow charges
to dodge doc's sunny reparteé

finally

bipolar glue-power unclogs the gash
cherish your psyche's wormwood-hack
your peace-ink cooling blue
your snow-truth judgement bridged

with one bank and a gun

whose prophet
son of none



_________________
Notes: 
    1.  A journalist once asked the Dalai Lama if he had to reduce the         teachings of Buddhism to one word, what would it be. His response was; "Compassion". 

     If asked to do the same for Christianity, my word, similarly, would be: "Kindness".

In My Father's Footsteps

With youthful vigor, self-serving pursuits did enthrone
Fealty's dues trumping pride did disown
Encased by unbridled passion, mitigating perpetuity did groan
I lingered in your shadow 'till life's cover had blown
Then instinctively garnished pages from patrimonial loan
I traveled the cobbled path now overgrown;
With briers and weeds, spent years to atone
I saw your tread on each, cracked stone
Blithely meandered toward mutual destiny, alone
Strode in each footstep your sweat, tears did hone
Pranced through the smooth stretches you did conscientiously tone
Through brokered prism scanning each lofty vista, your vision did clone
Ensnared by cumbersome demons, frailties; your genetic markers had strewn
Skirted each obstruction utilizing exemplary pattern deftly sown
Prated o'er each pitfall that your missteps did condone
When life's path nearly run, an approving voice echoes from heavenly zone

Obamas

Offensive
Bamboozling
Adulterous
Misgoverning
Anti-Capitalist

Odious
Blow hard
Arab
Muslim
Anti-American

Obnoxious
Back Biter
Abuser
Marxist
Anti - Christ

Oval Office                             
Brokered                                 
Assault Rifles                         
Misleading                              
Americans                              

Open
Border
Allowing
Mass
Adulteration

Ordered                                      
Benghazi                                    
Ambassador’s                             
Murder                                         
And 3 others  

Oust                                        
Barrak                                      
America’s                                 
Most                                        
Atrocious 

Oath
Broken
Assuming
Misanthropic
Autocrat

Oblivious
Bewildered
Abysmal
Myopic
Administration 

Overthrow
Banish
Annul
Muzzle
Abolish  

One more
Blunder
After
More and More
Atrocities

One
Big
Ass
Mistake
America


now that I have your attention, please read and comment 
on my other pieces of work
Thank you

Premium Member Our 2016 Dilemma

Our 2016 Dilemma

Hope and change fell through
   A new selection due
Our choices will not do...
   No trust in shouting shrew 
Who may wear prison blue
   Opponent has no clue
Those 'status quos'...adieu
   No longer in our view
Gov waste we must subdue
   Inaction grew and grew
Frontrunner with hairdo
   Opponents can't undo
Reflects a mixed review
   Good business man, it's true
A movement set anew?
   Disaster or breakthrough?
And what can now outdo
   This mess that boils like stew
Brokered convention..zoo!
   Large riots may ensue
Outcome we can't construe
   November...happy...Whew!
Or grab the Tums, tissue...?


Sandra M. Haight

~NA~
Contest: Political Ordeal
Sponsor: C.T.
Judged: 05/18/2016

Absconding Muse: Vagabond Scavenger

Jilting muse with availing inspiration did wend
Barren reservoir doth futility portend
A bristling quill with no well to descend
No gratuitous frills on vapid contours suspend
Seeking with brokered shill to amend
Imploring vagabond seeking itinerant dividend
Wading through flooded channels, silty grains to append
From literary vault embezzled title apprehend
In voluminous discourse a simple aphorism distend
In ancient annals a trite fable from corroded parchments 
rend
From Medieval chronicles a homily with which to contend
Out of Victorian poet's graded folio a euphemism vend
From contemporary laureates' silken threads, new yarn 
spin


distend- to stretch out, to inflate

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