Best Bullish Poems
A woman's soul, is it as porous
as the air that breaks the water and earth
apart from each other?
In the slither of liquid contours,
this maiden's essence blows into tiny
glints of filling days’ silent pages
without having to fill in the blanks.
But such fire in her navel;
swelling, leaping forth unto a black dahlia
of night dripping with all the kerosene stars
like a tigress on a hidden, sensuous prowl...
This is her shape.
Then coming from metal gut, she fumes
of musky-flavored energy, steaming
the brain for a war of poker in a den
filled with invincible men as she raises
the bets for a royal flush of aces...
This is her bullish time.
Yet, curling into late evening
she enters into the pillows
of her soul rinsed from the bouquet
and incense of a dulcet day,
her bosom of long breaths warming the lamp
gentle, temperate, and mild in peace,
coasting along the ledge of her swan sleep...
This is her soul's time, shape and peace.
For Laura Loo's Second Place Challenge
Resubmitted 6/27/2016
-----------
Place 2nd in the Contest:The Scent Of Your Soul
Judged 10/18/2014
Beware young lad, tis the dawning of thy demise,
For the water witches screams, are carried on the
Winds breath, of the tidal waves hurricane.
Be-she, the banshie of the fathom’s abyss, treacherous
Mistress, beguiling temptress, enslavement's captive,
Whom belongs to the sailors devil himself,
Thus she announces her masters arrival,
Known is he, as Davy Jones.
Aquatic demon, the soul feast-er, appearing perched
Upon the four masted sailing vessel, a seething fiend,
With ivory white fangs, red piercing eyes flash against
The storms rage.
The predator to prey ratio, delights this beast, from hell's
Deepest pit, it's relishing laughter, does chill the mariner,
To their very bones within.
Atop his ghoulish head, arises bullish horns, to drive
The undead, beneath the seas watery realm.
Fly swiftly, all seafaring men aboard, for the dark wrack's
Shadow, mars thy voyage, for death's imitate sacrifice.
Crimson gloves, do hold a set of golden keys, to chains
Shackled locks, behold phantom wave stalkers.
Lost souls of the forgotten, servitude’s salves of the
Murky bottoms depths.
Treasures locker keeper, within the heart of the sea,
Does lie, a cold guardian stands watch, over it's
Precious contents, bound forever as persecution's
Divine punishment, from Poseidon, the great
Lord of the seven seas.
Answering their captain's hailing, the soulless crew,
Climbs aboard his ghostly craft, heading ever upwards,
To the unknown beyond.
Accursed windjammers, cutting against the rough surf,
Emerging as a seaweed covered derelict, it charges forth,
Riding upon the edge of the ultimate storm.
At fates spinning wheel, Davy Jones hands are set steadfast,
Awaiting the newly undead, to join his brackish crew.
The living pray for mercy grace, salvation's angels
Save us, pleading on knees bent low, Oh Lord Almighty,
Hear the sailors voices, crying out in sheer terror.
But the devil dues must be paid, for other
Mariner’s safe passage.
To night behold the tolls collection plate is passed,
And is served by evils blackest hand, nay it's filled
Not in gold, but instead ti's flesh to the living bone.
Served on a silver platter, to none other then
Davy Jones himself, listen to his echoing laughter,
Filling the chilled air's darkness,
Than plunging beneath the briny depth's below.
Nothing remains but a legend's myth or so
It is said.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
A young man named Jonas stood at the doors
Of the house that had haunted his dreams
As behind the ornate, hand-carved oak
Its interior was not all it seemed
People entered the doors, then disappeared
It was the last of them anyone would see
So Jonas had made it his mission in life
To put an end to its mystery
Jonas passed through the doors and as he did
The doors locked – he had no way out
He took a deep breath, to calm his nerves
Then he started to look about
He was standing in a square hallway
With a map of the house at one end
A door stood each side, marked ‘IN’ and ‘OUT’
Written above ‘IN’ was a legend
‘Beware all mortals who enter this place
Solve Metis’s riddles or fear you will face’
He wondered what the legend meant
Faltering on going through the door
And what had happened to all the souls
Who had walked through this portal before?
Jonas opened the door, and entered a room
The door then vanished from view
As there was no obvious other way out,
He stopped to think for a moment or too
As he thought, he took in his surroundings
The room was panelled in wood as before
With a large chandelier, providing the light
That shone on a plinth, in the centre of the floor
Seated on the plinth was a creature
That filled Jonas’s bones with dread
Half man, half beast with a bullish face
And which, though seated, towered over his head
With wizened finger, it beckoned to Jonas
And with powerful voice began to speak
“Who dares enter Metis’s House of Fear
And what is it that you seek?”
Height is not an issue
But today I got introduced to a nasty verbal stew
It was this one bullish kind of comment
Of odium and torment
Initially I thought, it was human nature
Coming from a relative who is short in stature
The tyrant venting with a curse
A sheer case of moral shortsightedness
‘Conquer the whole world and lose your own soul’
Egoistic pride becoming his ultimate goal
I wish He could really be a mentor
For when there is troubling waters, he steers the young to the shore
His ignorance makes me very very angry
I pray that of this treacherous plot, I am set free
If I were not 'born again' in Christ and he were a watermelon
I swear my words would have been a sharp knife and his mouth a cracked gallon
Spider-man, he definitely is not
Being a woman, I Wonder why he insists on making Fijian ‘lovo’ in a foreign pot
My family counselor said ‘it is the short man's syndrome’
********! Sheer ignorance; fact is, from childhood, he hasn't mentally grown.
IF YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE…
“A quiet and modest life,” says he in German, the most successful of them/us all, “brings more joy than a pursuit of success bound with constant unrest.”
Albert Einstein’s hand-written tip to a courier at the Imperial Hotel
Tokyo, November 1922
If you think you’re the only one to record the way the world’s run
Know that every top’s naked spun when the wrapped string’s outrun
Everyone’s in such a hurry to step out of this collapsing quandary
Even if the one and only query is left without comforting certainty
Everybody wants a piece of posterity to be part of everlasting history
Even at the cost of mimicry if only to keep shoring up sheer vanity
Fire burns out in an empty shell the way the poem slim content quell
Who reads for meaning to feel well means to read more feeling swell
Roads lead to where one wants to go, lines come to an end in vertigo
To each ego own voice sounds best, who renounces the will but hobo
Tell this to a Cervantes five years in quarries after the Battle of Lepanto
Confront Dostoeyeski with firing squad again after four years in Siberia
Tear Theo from Van Gogh’s bosom after Gauguin’s bullish loud hysteria
Tease Mozart in his deathbed with the sleepless scores of his concerto
There’s no quiet in a modest life for billions will step eager on your face
Our world honours the sham strong the phoney the fake the half-baked
The weak work all day not to crave success but to fend off all disgrace
No true mother harassed by rape abandons the baby for rapists’ sake
Success is always drenched in sweat except for those fils de Putes
Who inherited the earth long before the oldest profession followed suit
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
I am an obsessive, possessive compulsive
Besotted by your flawed brand of perfection,
My love for you is a grasping fist -
Crushing you, slowly suffocating,
Squeezing the breath - and the resistance –
from your lungs, from your soul…
Constriction breeds subtle friction,
You flail now and then like a landed fish,
But you can’t escape me darling…
You can’t get away because you don’t want to,
Your willpower has corroded, has eroded to dust
I am your heroin, killing you softly as the old song goes,
Caressing your heart into fatal submission…
Oh I don’t deny, sometimes the drug wears off,
And you have a bad trip -
Sometimes my whip lash fails to strike…
And your dormant defiance rises with bullish temerity…
Sometimes I nearly lose my hold, and the fist weakens, flaccidly…
Then I have to rein you in and force a harsher bit between your gritted teeth
Ha ha, oh yes, it can be a cat and mouse game, this romance,
A tenuous balance of shifting powers,
Like tectonic plates, seething beneath the surface…
The scales tip seductively in your favor, then in mine -
Sometimes your fingers slip round my throat,
The manacles of my love asphyxiating…
Sometimes I lead you by the ring in your nose, my bovine beauty –
Sometimes it all becomes too much, like black waters rising,
Closing over my humble head,
And I start to choke…to drown…
But in the end, my fingers are locked round your heart,
And if I go down – baby, so do you
Love lights
Blooms bright
Hope hues
Craft cues
Faith frees
Soul sees
Set stage
Red rage
Briskly booze
Orange ooze
Bullish bet
Yellow yet
Mull maze
Green gaze
Still sight
Blue bright
Tasty tribe
Violet vibes
Bloom brave
White waves
Nude noise
Pink poise
Mellow make
Turquoise take
Thrill thirst
Brown burst
Sublime say
Purple play
Tough think
Beige brink
Strong shout
Black bout
Mind mints
Taste tints
Heart heals
Spice spills
Taste thrills
Wit wills
Zest zooms
Rich rooms
Leon Enriquez
28 July 2018
Singapore
Thronged investors at the allotment bazaar
Large cap bearish
Scripts at fall.
Awaited ingenious and expertise capitalists
Then brought into
Scripts at down.
Mid Cap bullish
Scripts at rise
Wavered SENSEX
And small cap ingress
Gives the once over like a cliffhanger rise.
Beginners rapacity and analysts variegations
Former’s paucity and latter’s accrued funds.
Pulled blue chips
Superior position
And more towering price
Then again a new firm
Offering a bid price.
Broker’s commission and depositories dematerialization
Varied revenue
Over investors capitalization.
Inflation hikes and deflation brought down
Again a widespread decline in the GDP
Brought the whole market to pull down.
Analyst’s accrued funds and NIFTY’s superbia
Top thirties jackpots and investors allocations,
Sharply jerked down.
Brainsick market
And a quidity beer bar,
A full-time financial express
And the morning tea NDTV regular.
Beginners’ luck to fill the pot
And a period later
The crow sated the piggy bank pot.
-------------- X -------------------
Tonight, the full moon blooms
And foils the looming gloom.
The remnant doom from noon
Has lost it's bullish tune.
And embraces dusk's eerie cool.
The village square it illuminates
Arena of moonlight tales of late
The little ones gather and wait
While the elderly engage in debates
And the goats noisily ruminates
The bright night, lights sparks
Of bliss and joy in trees' barks
The tall iroko whistle in parks
Where young lovers end their tracks
And skimpy skirts lose their tacks
The son of perdition frets unsure
The thief in the night fears exposure
The pirate sailor steers from ashore
The night fisherman denied action
For the kind light bathes the ocean
Tonight, the full moon beams proud
As the town crier makes his round
Belting forth a piercing sound.
While the town's chorus echoes loud
The stage is set for the yearning crowd
In me there is a tried and true reflection of the Green
the black, the forest, the damp leaves and the rain in winter.
Everyday in the evening, when the dawn breaks-
I walk the animal trails to see who came at night,
in the dark to eat the corn, the moss, the grass.
A stag and three does come every Thursday.
I leave carrots, and bones, and roots, and acorns-
at dusk- in the morning, forage the wild boars
mother and her newborns, with large bullish horns-
under the old oaks, abundant in thorn, and ash.
I had a dream I sat beneath the moon-tide at noon
and Brigit, my bright friend, again was near and dear-
We grew up like sisters and parted as such too soon.
I see her now once a week; Aye, see and hear how to
Know if one's weak know and if one's strong
and now how to write one's wronged wrong.
Send her a message: Ev re:one needs a better,
half recalled.
A friend in deed, she comes to console:
A shoulder to laugh on, a story already told.
The bullish sun sat on your avant-garde tree
Growing on the baroque poems of your dancing knee
The dilettante attributed it to the icy ennui
As elan had been in a holiday spree
I was very happy at the warm anomaly
It was indeed a deja vu for me
Amidst the sucking cacophony
The carte blanche was the best policy
Of course if it came from a sunrise that was bona fide
In the anaemic milieu of our poor poetry
January 18, 2018
Ten words ten lines 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
The bull is coming
What are you going to do?
Are you going to run or get out of the way?
I say not
Face it like a matador
Even guide it
How many times are you bulled?
Too many times
But who is counting?
Do you bull s or is a bull s?
I say neither
Unless you want to be a saint
Then don't do it
Now don't go do anything I say lol
Are you bullish?
No? Then you are bull s then
What is my dinner without the bull?
I can have bull steaks, bull frogs, bull dogs
Lol just kidding
If I eat those I'll be in high heaven
at the county jail
But I'll eat the bull steaks though
Yum yum
Are you a bulldozer?
Destroy everything in its wake?
Yeah you'll be a it
As you are not human
Are you bullied or are a bully?
Don't
Only God can be a bully
And even He - does not do that
If you are bullied, be a bull, will ya?
Where are your senses?
THE sun superbly smiles in the world
The faces of the people become impeccably bright
And the birds brood, sing softly enraptured,
Wet green grass glean with dew light,
Various flowers loutishly bloom bright and fresh
And the dull, dark night stars disappear,
A breeze cuts through the world without brash,
Hearts of people beat lightly the rhythm they endear
And their souls unburdened duly of dubious oppression,
Their formerly bowed backs now straitening,
Some jubilant wiping the sweat of emancipation
From their victorious visages, now blatantly beaming;
And the mountains seem to recede down to plains,
The burly, bullish bushes let sun rays penetrate,
The rivers flow on sun shined land, colorlessly sedate,
Seas now smell of edible, huge fish’
And thence, the long eagerly awaited tuneful liberation
Emerges from the sun-coated east horizon goldfish
Spreading luxuriantly to the west with expectation
DUCK AFTER DUMP PING THE DON
air ring ma thoughts - no matter aye ham
juiced one twenty first century mwm ape
serves as genuine s cape
to fly (during pitch black hours of night) and escape
burning effigies, where his jumbo jet, a sonic boom stick bewitching like Snape
temporarily tough feign ruffled feathers sans rape
pay shuss selfish lust, when world sliding down behavioral sink,
where he doth jape
and me as distant outlier from madding crowd i gape
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the sheer inanity
trumpeting strumpets donning an innate
prejudice and senselessness purr
blind faith toward self avowed demigod -- seize whore viz Cesar
his hair coiffed and puffed like it whir
wind blown kickstart ting mobs to stir
paying bodyguards to evict ruckus-causing murmur
oh...how the masses will let this country
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Go to hell in hand basket
and rack up stratospheric global debt
cause zing this one measly mortal male to fret
that totalitarian rule will force every man,
woman and child to march....het
two...three...four, while the billionaire
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
turns a third blind eye speeds away in his foo fighter jet
argh...heavens to Betsy, how did the fickle finger of fate let
this pompous ass
vacuumed majority votes across world wide net
to finagle vox populi, and groom hooligan nasty ruffian thugs
with smashed face s as his smart pet
bump ping uglies henchmen set
to create their own version of the tet
offensive, despite croup bawling ashen faced deportees
whose tears sentence innocent to po' ver tee branding indiscriminately vet
so culled unwanted ill eagle "aliens"
labored with nose to grindstone
fingers to the bone vainly, their american dream parched whence whet.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Long story short - pondering my rental circumstance will equal net
zero importance, and will be upended if this ret
chad, ewol, googly-eyed, gastronomic, narcissistic bullish don will set
the spark for world war three - via gone ah re: ha...ha...ha...to all vet
tureens within the american crucible melting pot - with backs whet
unless....Katrina and the Waves, superman or Sabrina can oust him yet!
Is Donald Trump not essentially American,
An exemplary icon of quintessential America?
A normal man to the loud, confident American,
The pride of the burly, bullish pedestrian?
Freedom of speech is understood by Americans,
To mean that diversity is the consequential result,
And that all can perambulate along vocality’s road,
Without fear of scathing, of the eloquence catapult.
Bigotry is rife in the States and you can’t criticise,
Harshness, coarseness or brevity for anything,
Because if you do a snide remark with cascade,
To sedate your narrow mind and morality thing.
So here’s the thing: the president is not normal,
But is a speciality without symbolism of the norm,
So maybe it should be harder, languages required,
To become a presidential nominee with silk form.