Best Categorically Poems
You never really knew the beauty of your soul.
Of how it is possible to be both old and young
within the same body that tells about the years past,
but can put to shame so many of today’s indolent youth.
How were you able to retain such innocence,
for only a child can categorically say such abhorrence
of one type of food even with the knowledge that it is good?
Yet words of deep understanding pour forth from the same mouth.
When the gift to listen was showered upon the earth
you must have paid attention, for you have it in abundance
“To hear is normal, to listen, a gift, to understand...a miracle”*
One who would care to keep these words would understand. You do.
You are sensitive. Who would have thought it so?
You have that amazing capacity to command words to your bidding
and just the right touch of irreverence to twist them when it suits you.
Still and all, you feel the wound deeply and I’d hate to be the cause of it.
I tried to look into your heart through your words.
Words which were already read by many before I entered the scene
yet they did not see the sadness, the dark that lurked in the corner of your light -
They were too mesmerized by the laughter, to see the crosses in your eyes.
*John W. Wulf, author of the book The Lady Who Loves the Whisper
___________________________________________________________
1. The Poetry Soup Poem of the Week - 02 August to 08 August, 2015
2. The Crosses In Your Eyes Contest - 3rd Place , 29 July 2015
Sponsor: Justin Bordner -
Kim Patrice Nunez
27 July 2015
Archetypes flash straight from a pack of Tarot cards
anti-terror Jing Jang synthesis with neuro-spiritual precision
implants explosive animation from the deep unknown
like a taro rootstock growing wings to fly with found suspension
Stereotactic stereotypes archetypes semi-circling soothing storm clouds
thunderbolts and enlightening darkness are my enema of anxious anger critique
of the mono-morph collision of the scalpel shadow ‘Prozacian’ nemesis
neology of ‘animusity’ of ‘newfoundlandel’ comprehension
Dialectical complementation rises higher and higher culminates in
ethereal transcendence where collective personal unconscious
presents my animus in wishful thinking and projections as
soft and gentle revel rebel raising entropy in tender conservation to escape from
Dogma categorically demanding artificial classification replacing with dimension
flow and rivers stagnant pools of stream of consciousness evading
sexist fragmentation disenfranchising marginalisation assigning male
and female emasculated o-variation where seminal origin implantation
Precedes nurture socialised indoctrination assignment of celibate promiscuity
My animus refuses to accept in emotional rejection whether Jung and I read
symbols from the same page or not of masques façades and liberated self
where academic artistry split hairs and personality for the premise of debate
I am a rebel and claim no higher lower ground of superior distension
He or she who animates friendly animosity is right and incorrect whatever
common ground belies the provocation I propose but possibly my
presentation of what others mean in kindness is too neutral neuters psyche
While anima and animus illustrate conclude a symbiotic destination
the starting point of this and that left right up above and side by side
is far too circular an argument when we should start not end in union
Male and female are constructions of disparity of power and repression
Archetypes are not therefore I am
11th June 2016
Animus-Anima Part II—Animus – Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
It was predictable
You would come
And smile
I cleaned the stable
Put a handsome
bouquet of roses
On a table
In the right hand corner
Near the window
Put some white gladioli
Wrapped with
A brown paper too
Lest what is predictable
Didn't come true
It was you who
made it predictable
For you said
Categorically
Whether spring or rain
You would be with me
Doctor came in the evening
Angiography was done
He wrote on the report
Normal
But
Sought opinion
Of the departmental head
I was left swinging
Between bouquet
And brown paper
You are smiling
Jasmine flowers
You are sure
Roses prevail
Tomorrow morning
There will be an aurora
She said with an euphoria
____________________________
December 8, 2019
Predictable Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Allow me a moment to deconstruct,,
Every wall characteristically set up.
And all the fabricated stories from corrupt
Individuals; Residuals of a past,
I broke through and shattered like sugar-glass.
Let me tell you; I'm not invincible.
My personality is not intrinsical.
My body nor mind isn't irresistible.
Sometimes my heart and my head cosmically clash,
Emotion covers my face like a rash.
I'm a disastrously lousy liar;
I can't hold piss for pounds if its worth a few pence.
In debates I can never just "sit on the fence",
I need to say my bit no matter how intense
The opposite argument may make sense.
I like to drink like most twenty year olds,
Though sometimes I drink more than my emotions hold,
And sometimes I let those emotions slip in tears
And open my heart to all my sorrows and fears.
But god forbid I should have a pained heart.
God forbid I should live a life of youth,
And drink from it all the human traits of life's juice.
When happiness and suffering go hand in hand
I still bleed love and loyalty from every gland...
...Because I believed in those sacred fruits.
Well just because I build a barricade,
And paint on a brave face to replace my true self
Don't categorically place me on that shelf;
Among alcoholics, arrogant clowns and thieves,
Who handed you the gavel to judge me?
Though all of this stuff may file under "Me",
Don't think I wouldn't move sun and earth, part the sea,
To bring to you what you hold dearest of the dear.
That I wouldn't hunt through fire-filled chasms, your fears.
Because, what is love without a few tears?
Dogs dogmatically guard the home
Sounding the alarm with a growling bark
As owners are alerted to the threat
Miscreants flee into the dark
Cats are categorically useful too
Their mouse-tracking skills renowned
When a feline is prowling on patrol
Rodents scurry underground
But rabbits are a tougher sell
Their herbivore hunting skills quite moot
Unable to save the day or keep vermin at bay
They mostly sit there looking cute
Rabbits are thin-skinned as well
There's one faux pas you must not commit
Please do not call them rodents
Order Lagomorpha is where they fit
Why then do we delight in ours
The doe we call simply “Bunny” ?
It's cuz her antics provide comic relief
When she yawns it looks so funny
Bunny blithely flips her little plate
A curt review of pet shop food
She’s holding out for blueberries or kale
Depending on her mood
Baby carrots and parsley sprigs
Make for a tasty Bunny lunch
She regales us with her table talk:
Munchity, crunchity, crunch
After a hard day’s work, I come home
To my gray-and-white-furred friend
She’ll run to be picked up and petted
And my stresses are at an end
Yes, Bunny is priceless to us
And she certainly earns her keep
Familial duties done for the day
On a little throw pillow she falls asleep
_______________________________
for contest: Furry Friend
Sponsored by: Royal T
Atheists open letter to God
Dear God
I don't know how to begin...let's see
how are you today? (no he doesn't exist...oh yeah)
I am writing you today...to clarify a few things!
First of all, the fact that I am writing you this letter,
does not in any way shape or form indicate, confirm,
affirm, or testify, or give testimony, or bear witness
to a belief or conviction that you exist, in any form whatsoever!!!
Speaking about your existence...I have denied your existence
and I wanted to know why you have not accepted my denial!
Don't you understand that my denial of you, (now as a consequence
of aforementioned denial) you are hereby obligated to not exist.
My detailed analysis of facts as I understand them lead me to conclude that there is no Creator, no Intelligent Designer, and also I concur, believe, am convinced, have the conviction, that we(humans) are the product of evolution and random selection, after the big bang event.
So in conclusion, I would like to ratify my belief that you do not exist, I concur, and agree, and am bound by this letter witnessed by me, stating categorically, unequivocally, that you do not exist.
Please refrain from indicating, manifesting, proving, supporting, in any way that you exist. Please respect my declaration of your non- existence and comply forthwith.
Not yours, not so sincerely,
An unbeliever
P.S If by any chance I am wrong...please disregard the aforementioned letter
with my most sincere and humble apologies.
John Derek Hamilton
July 20,2016
With a 7-Eleven Big Cup eulogy slurp
And a McDonalds Big Mac pall bearer burp,
it’s Big Boy Slim Jim holiday mourning time
Take a family reunion picnic funeral ride
to a cemetery last supper barbeque burial ...
shovel down the gullet styrofoam servings
of coffin words charcoal dirtside purged
Famous food jingles playing over the radio
was the final ear candy corpse dish heard
Box of chocolates and cake frosting flowers
bring back such fond broken diet memories
And guilty pleasures
of Weight Watchers infidelities
Illicit affairs of late-night microwave heated morsels
brought forth categorically caloric denials ...
refrigerated temptations
tiptoe sneaking down the pie-hole
Oh, the double-layered life you led,
the gravedigger cravings you had
You always pillow stashed
an eclair energy bar
under the silk sheets kissy lipstick red,
to stimulate your gastro-erotic appetite after midnight
Carnal tastings of naked delight ... good belly vibrations —
sugar rush,
melted butter
Buckets of caramel popcorn love ...
Lip-smacking custard creampies,
your tongue couldn’t get enough
Popsicle toes,
finger licking
Mouth watering pickles,
spicy honey breasts of chicken
Succulent crab legs,
steamed oyster juices exotic
Lobster chowder brie ... pure aroma ecstasy
You took a Cajun deep creole swallow,
spooning the bottom of the gumbo pot
Relaxing those alligator jaws for the belching last time,
loosening your belt past the final notch
Satisfied donut eyes orange glaze hollow,
cinnamon bun thoughts be on your English muffin mind:
Restaurant quality neo-mortician style buffet,
wine cellar casket smorgasbord
Undertaker carry-out at the Last Breath café,
with a menu selection to die for
Oh, the extra toppings life you led,
such gravedigger cravings you had
Time to put your Pizza Hut pepperoni desires to bed,
and brain-freeze
that last heaping spoonful of Big Frosty in your head
Then close them Cheesecake Factory eyes,
when those antacid,
digestive ...
gluttonous lights go dead
Loving those who hate you deeply , it is part of wisdom
of God"
Quote by poet.
Why many black people of the World
Love President Putin?
Does President Putin one of the blacks of Russia?
Why do they love him so much?
It is hard to understand their reasons
But the western new oparing systems
Continue enslaving them systematically
Then they thought that Russia
will continue to be their allie
for their total freedom.
The law lords of the World did not recognise
Slavaly ,Apartheid , Colony,
Neo - colonialism as the crimes
Against humanity,
that is why
Majority black people lost trust in some people
who came to them as friends
And turned to ill - treat them massively.
Sometimes my friend Poets,
Ministers of Gospel, Juges, Lawyers
Activists, Masters , doctors , prophets
will continue to ask"
why his contents
always concerned the rights
of some people?"
How happy we always
feel when animals
Are well treated?
What about ill-treating
particular people from many
years till today?
I think the recognition of colony ,
slavary , neo-colonialism and apartheid as crimes
Against humanity
Can bring
Some change in the world oparating
Unjust systems.
There won't be modern colonisation
Which continue to exclude Africans'rights.
I know the truth is always hated
And it so hard
Hardly to welcome it.
My best prayer to God is "
Oh ! Lord of the heavens
Change the hearts of some people
To respect the rights of others
As their rights are categorically
respected by them.
I cry
to You as your faithful servant.
Hear me dear heavenly
Father
As you heard the prayers
of our forefathers
Patriach Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob...Amen!"
Remember that I am not a politician
And this is not a political content either
It is reality of the World
... treating well some people
And ill - treating others
Which could be condamnable
by the national and International laws.
June 6th 2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
one
morning
I’ll awake from
this surreal nightmare
I hold my breath
I live in
fear
memory’s
flipside is a
hellish curse
I wish I could erase
dismiss the persecutions
cruel injustices
systematic
strikes
most
utterly liberating
it would so be to crush and
disintegrate persistent debilitating
memories in order to lead
a life craving to be
free
bad
things happen
every day
our experiences
shared and yet diverse
sometimes even the most tragic
in the grander scheme of things
we’re the same and
yet unique
we still choose
life
when we stop and think about it
categorically we fall into
an array of statistics
one day I hope to
choose not to
stagnate
there
in
an attic
I wait for life
to pick up where
it suddenly
left off
~
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on July 18, 2020 for contest DELIRIUM sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN - RANKED 5TH
Earlier version submitted on January 7, 2019 for contest 2019 POETRY MARATHON MILE 10 sponsored by MARK TONEY
Originally posted on March 28, 2018
MISSED HER PERIOD
SO she called at dawn
By then I was around cloud nine in a certain lovely lawn
Her groans and tears were so loud to make me vacate sleep
When my eyes opened, From arm's length her emotions were so deep
So I asked, 'what are you doing here? It's late'
'I missed my period' she categorically did state
What? I fearfully asked
She said ' I couldn't menstruate
''I used to flow at least every day
But it's been week since my ink felt paper''
My eyes became flooded
Her emotions got her impregnated
I starved her of my contraceptive hands
Whiles I watched her in her idle state with my naked eyes
Now, She's missed her period.
She wanted to abort
But I said no to that future effort
So she was delivered of that beautiful baby
Invested me with an additional responsibility
My lexicon I ought to increase
For my words ought to be enough,
To satisfy both her and her baby.
Rumination on the ruination of water
A pleasant clearing with lots of grains
but only a touch of water,
the trickle trailed through transparently
and so the migrating chickens stayed,
but as the flock expanded there emerged
the problem of the water flow
both quantity and quality
To waste means want, to change or to clamber on
the chickens debated cluck-ed and scold-ed.
Two sided and entrenched they were,
what option did they have, to move was foolish,
would cost resources the time invested to purify
much more worth a look, but studies said
categorically, that nothing was amiss,
while the trickle trailed through translucently.
They washed and scraped and pooed some more
and the trickle it did change, it now trailed through turgidly
and the chickens scolded and sickened.
Desperation enforced decision and debate resulted in action.
Powder was bought to make clean water but, there was no mixer
…and the costing was extorting… time for emergency measures!
Hang the cost and go for broke, debt for future generations.
Dig and scrape and make a lake! …well at least a puny pool or pond…
providing clean and clear; crystal and ethereal,
surley this would be achieved.
But before the water could reach the middle it passed
through mire deep and dense, there was no clause
in the contract to clean it and so;
the crystal water became a beautiful emerald. That it was a
pulchritude, a positive feature the chickens were assured
by all of economic sense and ability. No one wanted to argue
because they weren’t quite sure what it was they were told.
But still more scolding and sickening.
entrepreneurs began to stock their medicines and cures
the chickens bought them and rather than shift stayed in their rift.
That place downstream that plants had cleaned, lay green
and fresh and forsaken. When this was raised they were horrified!
¨We would die!¨, the chickens did cry,
rather than drink downstream of this mess.
So they did.
Except for the rooster who retired downstream, still visits above
to scrape and to scratch. The grains grow huge with their liquid food
and, with a mist in his eye, he transcends the loss of his friends.
©T.Arnold
I DON’T KNOW
So what’s wrong with saying “I don’t know”
When your poem is good, and feels just so?
A technical requirement to state categorically
What you have said, albeit metaphorically.
Like asking Einstein to place his e=mc2 formula
Neatly in the correct position on a page of algebra
Otherwise he will lose marks and gain only “C”
Or ordering Michaelangelo to sign properly
So that his paintings may be in a catalogue
And the gallery guide can give her monologue.
Or what if Curie was given a low academic gradation
For fooling around with radium and radiation?
Or Sir Humphrey Davy, remembered with odium
For accidentally stumbling on the discovery of Sodium:
Imagine his schoolteacher fillng out the report card -
“Davy is disorganized and needs to work hard”
So please allow poets to say that they do not know
The category into which they must go.
One Last Walk
Falling, falling faster as my world comes crashing in
Shattered into pieces, a fragmented puzzled man
Blind sided catastrophically, recovery seems so rare
Wide eyed, open mouthed, jaw dropped into nowhere
What I thought so perfect, you thought the other way around
Cardiac arrest, dead chest, breath of no air, voice without sound
The pain in me categorically a level 10 on a disastrous scale
Falling through open space, a hopeless Jack A$$ with no tail
I thought that we were happy, I thought you were my best friend
Was it that easy to forget me, is he that much better of a man
If I die I'll go peacefully if true happiness is what you've found
This I thought you had with me as I smile teeth first into the ground
Please, please just remember me, look to the stars I'll be right there
My love for you is unconditionally, your Guardian Angel of despair
You have infected my entire Being, every part of me loves you so
One last time please hold my hand and walk with me before I go...
Written For Contest: Lost Love Free Verse or Rhyme
Hosted by:John Hamilton 05/12/17
WON 2nd PLACE IN CONTEST RESULTS
L o s t road l o n e l y highway
Tell me what you see
Fortune future avenue
B l i n d spots b l i n d l y
Transfixed d e s e r t e d road
No turn seems to be
Show a sign any sign
, Mile m a r k e r twenty-three
L o s t road D a m n e d highway
Answers needed please
Death Valley next exit
Categorically d i s e a s e d
Ungrateful r o a d tripped,
Avenue F u t u r e unfortunately
Now I s e e the spots
In D e a d s E n d circling
bmdavey@2005
Why is ‘Almost Good Enough’
never what you need?
Why is ‘Clearly Not Enough’
an ounce more than you deserve?
Why is ‘Almost What You Need’
the most you’ll ever have?
Why is ‘It’s Not Only That’
the only thing that’s left?
Why is ‘In Almost Every Case’
not in any case at all?
Why is ‘In Lieu Of Everything Else’
the thing sure to be missed?
Why is ‘In Actuality’
in real terms actually not?
Why is ‘To Be Perfectly Honest With You’
the biggest lie you tell?
Why is the serious ‘Last Ditch Effort’
the one you continue to try?
Why is the ‘Absolute Final Time’
the one you repeat again?
Why is ‘Really’ not real at all
and spoken then in vain?
Why is ‘Probably’ not possible
or even close to that?
Why is the phrase ‘The Bottom Line’
the top of your agenda?
Why is the trusted ‘Old College Try’
strictly out of school?
Why is ‘Painstakingly Difficult’
the easiest thing you do?
Why is ‘No Sweat—The Deal Is Done’
so much harder than before?
Why is ‘Let’s Start At The Beginning’
the end of the debate?
Why is ‘The Last Word On The Matter’
the beginning of what comes next?
Why is ‘So What’ a euphemism
for the most important thing you do?
Why is ‘It Is What It Is’
categorically not, and never meant to be?
Why is ‘The Bull In The China Shop’
ceramic and for sale?
Why is the celebratory ‘Victory Lap’
the one taken in disgust?
Why is the magical ‘Three Point Shot’
four points more than its worth?
Why is the special ‘Love You Lost’
the only one you’ve never found?
Why is the figurative ‘Bird In Hand’
the one that flies away?
Why is ‘Bantering Back And Forth’
the silence you extol?
When will your words wrap like copper wire
to conduct the truth unrobbed
When will you cease to pander and mislead
—naked before the mob
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)