Best Choice Of Words Poems
When the sky is a
sequestered sanctuary,
and the clouds croon
for sinking star-beams,
listen to the euphoric hymns of silence,
for seething storms throned
beneath rainbow castles
shall never obscure the
crystalline colors of compassion,
amidst thickened fangs
of dwelling darkness,
constantly trying to
seize peacock pigments
within violet-blue seas
of sequined sentiments…
O’ beloved white rose~
perfumed in vanilla love,
let not the wolf-spider gaze,
mirroring envy within black widow hearts,
confuse your diamond vision.
It’s just another day,
enveloped in a warm sakura sunrise,
there the gales of greed
looming in ghostly flecks,
question the redolence of rivulets
behind your veiled vigor.
There’s no reason to fear
when hope flows and drifts
like comets flying as fluttering butterflies
across the butterscotch horizon.
Remember, when the sage sun
seeps into foggy crevices,
and deserted dunes
speak in ashen accents,
their choice of words do not define
the rhythm of your seraphic symphony.
Your merlot wine spirit is
the whimsical wand turning unspoken
tales into wildflower wishes.
There’s no need for an alchemist
nor a sorcerer to concoct
spells that rearrange constellations,
as your voice swirls in magical mists.
You and I, are every last thing
we need to conquer the bewitching
perimeters we truly deserve.
Tonight, when my lids rest upon the
dreamscape of daffodils and dahlias,
I see that look in your eye.
I ponder, is it me that you long for?
Am I the unfading ink
within your saccharine sonnets?
I yearn to be the one you talk
about in sweet seclusion.
This trembling canvas longs
for no other skin to caress the acrylic
edges of my aching soul,
and I do not need
the wind and water
beneath whistling willows
to write my destiny
in green and gold.
We don’t need shades of shadows
following our intertwined silhouettes,
yet I let these metaphors
merge with the heat of
your passionate presence,
as you and I break through
the landscapes of grief
with mutual attraction
like the mulberry rays
between the moon and earth..
Acrostic Memory
Acrostics introduced in fifth grade on a rainy winter afternoon
Careful crafted choice of words written in lyric cadence hues
Rhythmic flow like music class - songs of skaters waltzes spin
Out of tumbling imagination’s chaos form corrals intention’s whims
Shaping thoughts that rumble ramble like errant spitball pests
Teacher’s encouragement gentle walks through rows of wooden desks
Imaginations set on fire with a powerful surge
Crafts of poems like spelling bees in alphabetic order emerge
My favorite teacher – Miss Daly - guided my awakening muse
Emerging in wide young eyes - life’s enigma puzzles to deduce -
Many her gifts wrapped in surprises of creative lines, the prize
Often I remember her stern but loving eyes
Reminders to remember her guiding hand for wordsmith potential
Yet I always wonder of her life’s acrostic in questions reverential
12-8-20
Contest: Nostalgia
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Be careful 'bout the things you say.
Make certain how they sound;
For other people may not know,
And spread their thoughts around;
Expounding on your choice of words,
And how they saw your manner.
It's best to weigh your words, my friend,
Than pay the price of candor;
For oft when people hear some things,
They take them out of context,
And on repeating what they've heard,
They give it different syntax.
They'll weave a story from your words,
That you won't recognize,
And then just try and find someone,
To stand and sympathize;
A single friend who knows you well,
And won't believe such stories,
Is hard to find when times are hard,
And gossips compound worries;
So watch your words for they have power,
Or you'll end up in mourning,
To whom and where and what you said.
Remember well this warning.
"A FOOL GETS INTO CONSTANT FIGHTS. HIS MOUTH IS HIS UNDOING. HIS WORDS ENDANGER HIM."
Proverbs 18:6-7
(Living Bible)
I see beautiful words
homeless and needing a hand
I reach for my pad and pen
these times are tough
my choice of words are thin
Perhaps they choose me
tell me exactly what to say
These words we help
they also help us
they inspire us everyday
[Title changed from ‘Double Talk’ as I’ve
used that title before]
________
This was the place that he’d chosen to go
They do a great starter of avocado
Everyone ordered the same starter there
And he'd always wink and say what a nice pear
His girl said this could be a very nice date
But please don’t be smutty or I’ll get irate
The cafe was German, renowned for its wurst
Each lady he liked he would take her there first
Which allowed him to use a one liner or two
Like I’m gonna get a hot sausage for you
Again his date felt that she must speak her mind
Speak dirty again and I’ll leave you behind
As for desert, there was one choice to make
She didn’t want ice cream so she ordered cake
His choice of words might have upset his mother
When he said I’d like a bit of the other
His date said what is it you don’t understand
Your double entendres are way out of hand
Tell me she said, do you like horses
He said I've been on a few riding courses
Nowadays I stick to my trusty land-rover
As I always struggled to get my leg over
That’s it, she bellowed, your mind is too shady
I only want you to treat me like a lady
He said I get nervous, don’t know what to say
She said lose the smut and you're doing okay
Talk about family... or friends if you’d rather
Okay he said... how’s your father
Rapping has no Ethnicity be ye
Greek, Jew, Afro, White, Hispanic,
Chinese, Japanese, Other.
Yo man, go rap out the Soul.
Tell your story, cuss the enemy
In ways they can't understand.
These are the times when you
Get on the Move to Groove into
Real-time electronic technology!
Don't just go boom, boom, boom;
What the Hell is that?
Teach the Young dignity, respect
for others too.
Yacoo, Yacoo, a da da da, uh huh,
My child can't learn nothing from
That, so teach, preach, inform!
I like the beat, rhythm, mix turns
And twists;
But for heaven's sake let me learn
From your choice of words, how to
Live in this World of ours!
We each define ourselves
by choice of words we speak,
the things we do, or seek,
within our minds they delve.
We cannot say some elves
have tricked our minds when weak.
We can’t presume to know
so practice some restraint,
or make faux pas then faint.
To you my friends, I show
I care but don’t kowtow,
please know I’m not a saint.
Diverse, we still expect
some semblance of respect.
22 August 2015
The HexSonnetta Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Since the bloody Battle of Hastings
When 'Arold got killed by French Bill
We've seen an endless invasion of French
And I've just about had my fill
Don't we have enough words of our own
In this wonderful language of ours?
- To seek and find le mot juste
Dunt take much linguistic power
It seems using French has been with us forever
Passed down as a fait accompli
Have we ever really tried to change that?
Or have we always said "C'est la vie"?
But, to think that some long-dead bon vivant
With a certain je ne sais quoi
Used his chic tour de force to put words in our mouths
To me, it's a shameful faux-pas
So, I think we need a tête-à-tête
To form a clique, to mount a coup
Working together, en masse, as a team
We'll swap "Bonsoir" for "How Do"
Then (haute couture) won't be setting the trend
We'll watch racing, not the Grand Prix
No more art nouveau, or cordon bleu
And say "Enjoy your meal", not "Bon appétit"
I never have the soup du jour
Prefer prawn cocktail to poncy pâté
And I'll sit in a coffee house or caff
But never go in a café
Some say I should let it go and relax
Say choice of words is all laissez-faire
But can I stay calm on this bête noire of mine?
No, mes amis ~ au-contraire!
At British Wimbledon let's use "40-all"
Instead of being at deuce
And what's wrong with nil instead of love
Or am I being obtuse?
I know that we'll get nowhere
I sense there's no going back
That it's like being stuck behind burning sheep
Trapped in a cul-de-sac
But I suppose that it is nice to share
Good ideas and a word or two
Like Liberté and Égalité
And that feeling of déjà vu
And with le weekend, le booking, le check-in, le spam
And countless more, I say with a grin
That when we look at our counter-invasion
Even the French agree that we win!
Jealousy upon One's Soul
Jealousy comes in many types of forms and dark faces
It has many aspects and traces of different colors,
All the evil seeds can be so contrite, evil and leave some traces
How some people can be so volatile and protrude others,
In today's society there's always someone who can be naughty
Can’t they think or know their own choice of words can be not catchy?
I do know way too many people have immoral values
Surely being and causing harm unto others does leave some clues,
Then they'll be their own worst feared cantankerous enemies
Would you say they might not be accepted into heaven’s gate?
With hardened hearts those who choose hatred lust and thievery's
Walking in life, they're filled with jealousy and know they can't wait,
A jealous mind and heart is resentful to an honest soul
Don’t they know how to enter set their own limits for in their set of a goal?
Don’t let the green monster enter your head and take a hold of you
A jealous seed won’t get you ahead in life that’s very true.
Written: Sept. 14, 2015
Theresa Marie
Soupers might have noticed that from about one year I am going on in translating Dante's Hell in english with rhymes. Why I am doing this? First of all because Dante is a genius of about 700 years ago and has founded the italian language after latin, called "volgare" (which is for "common"), but to a poetry level which is extremely high. My task is to try to repeat, in the limits of my known and with the help of internet, the magic sound of the original "Divine Comedy". I know that there are many translations in english done from people of english speech, for instance the Longfellow's masterpiece with no rhymes, which I consult some times to find the english appropriate terms in tough situations, but my version differs much from his. It looks like Longfellow tries to avoid any rhyme even where it would spontaneously come in. Other translations are excessively free, losing the original Dante's spirit.
What I am trying do is not to lose this spirit, maintaining somewhat the italian style in the english language.
I have to acknowledge the enormous help I receive from google translator although I have much to apply criticism in the choice of words and maybe not always I succeed. Moreover, I use write rhymes.com and rhymezone.com.
A problem apart is that of syllables: in italian, syllables for terza rima are 11, but the rule is that accent has to be on the tenth syllable of the verse, so the rule is on sound. In english most words have the accent on the last syllable and, as a matter of facts, most words are made by a single syllable. While composing verses I am trying to obtain verses of ten syllables, but sometimes I find a better sound with nine or with eleven. No strict rule seems to be the best, at least for my perception of sound.
Finally, I am open to criticism of soupers. In the future I will try to improve the quality of my translation if I have enough time. I am eighty years old and my life is not going to last much, so this translation is some sort of will I leave now.
"Species Nova"
A letter from Horace
today, I read,
he sends his ample
split dichotomy
he’s a writer with
novel ambitions
to shake the world
of reality up a little
make his mark
he will be read
poets are extraordinary
creatures, when extracting
charms and chimaeras
out from their heads
but isn’t that life?
my over self said
sic vita est
sine loco
ars poetica
species nova
from the place of
nothingness emerges
fromless evolution
in laureate nature
stet ante bellum
sine loco
ars poetica
sic vita est
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"He can be lofty sometimes,
yet he is also full of ...
charm and grace,
versatile in his figures,
and felicitously daring
in his choice of words..."
< I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it's my gift to you
Now use it wisely and write about some captioned caught views
thus that of an snow-capped mountain with an eagle that soars
or white sandy beaches where ribbed tides rolls back to it's shores
maybe stars and moon dance reflecting off stilled bay's port
in ones head you must determine choice of words to now sort
from beautiful to just pleasure does not hit it's mark
beneath recant memory that caused the ignited spark
observer of denial you can not destroy ones voice
within pens stroke there comes a poet with another choice
seize the day and come bow to the chosen word of the day
dont let an overpowering object just get away
Written By Katherine Stella 6/26/11
Entry For A Rambling Poet's
Writing In The Sublime
A story about a young boy and his father,
The boy was smart, diligent but hot tempered,
When vexed he has no choice of words,
He is careless even if that gets you annoyed.
One day he realized he had said something bad
So he walk straight to his dad,
'I know I hurt you' daddy am sorry, says the son
He sheds and tremble as to the other end he tends to turn.
"To say you are sorry is one thing son,
But that does not mean the pain is immediately gone,
There is something I want you to practically learn"
Says the father as he shows his son the packet of nail in his hand.
Take this packet of nail, says the father,
When you sleep, eat, play it must always be near,
When angered and you can't control,
Take one and nail it on the wall.
The first day, on the wall he nailed three,
Realizing he hurt no one, he knew his soul he is setting free.
He continues day after day
Nailing on the wall the same way
Daddy, the nail is finished, the boy said
That’s a great thing to hear says the dad
Now here is what I want you to do
Whenever you say SORRY go to the wall and had a nail remove.
Days past and again came the son
All the nails on the wall are gone
Daddy said "Let take a walk to wall,"
And tell me the lesson, it you have learned from.
I have learned that I say whatever comes my mind
When angered, vexed or mad
It as a result of me being idle
Says the son, and that why my temper I was unable to handle.
That is one but I want you to learn this today
Said the father as he moves to the other way
Nailing the wall represents the rude behavior and words you say
Removing the nail is the sorry you say.
Despite removing the nails there is still a hole
So don't see your 'am sorry' as an achieved goal.
Be mindful of what you say or do to others
For even after you say you sorry the hole lingers.
In the multitude of counsellors there is life,
Running away implies stabbing yourself with your knife.
I’m inside a cyclone, you think I should run?
You even went on to tag my stagnancy as dumbness,
I’m not a fool you know. Positioned myself in its centre
For I know that in the eye of a cyclone there’s calmness.
You feel I’m off-guard when I actually feel like I’m in a venter.
My birth canal is in the vertical, where I’m not impaired of my view
I fix mine eyes to the heavens where I know there’s my breakthrough.
In the midst of drunkards there’s sure a fog of immature diction.
Engaging means emigrating from the principle of lingual timing.
Words are powerful entities, they can unveil people’s identities.
When your mind is pixilated, the words you speak can intoxicate
Your persistent entity, your individuality. Even if it may be a while
There’s just some hostility about it and what if it compiles
In the long run, leaving your choice of words forever numb?
In a bad company is a formed aura of non-believe,
There’s a rapid leakage of faith with slim chance of retrieve.
The Bible is on point, “bad company corrupts good character”
It is said that character is the you that exists
When all are gone and you have only you in your midst.
Now think, external injections are depriving your character cells nutrients.
The torture is aimed at you, once activated there is severe suffering.
But, you'll have to bear the yoke alone when your God's desired character
Starts to haunt you!
There's fullness of joy in the presence of the Lord
And for those who really seek it, life is never really odd.
Oblige my rhymes that tell of you,
Delight in choice of words of praise;
Explore word mimes in tints that cue.
Thought frames a poise to touch and raise,
Obsess the glow of joy that leaps.
You are the soul of fest I prize,
Outline the flow as feelings grip,
Urge love one whole to cast warm spice.
Meet moments kind in this fond trance,
Yield happy touch of cheer you bring.
Display deep finds in journey dance,
Embrace sweet nudge of selfless flings;
Attend my dear to lovely talk,
Rest precious cheer in floral walk.
Leon Enriquez
29 January 2016
Singapore