Best Choicest Poems
I hunt my prey, late dusk or night
With wings so quiet in my flight
It's hard to see me up in trees
Since I am camouflaged with ease
My ears are placed in such a way
I hear most sounds from far away
My beak is hooked- made sharp to tear
But feathers cover it like hair
My eyes are large on my flat face
They do not move, stay firm in place
To see, I turn my head with ease
Two hundred seventy degrees
I hoot, hiss, scream, and most times, screech
To find a mate within my reach
Or let my competition know
This is my space, and they must go
In trees, await the choicest prey
Small mammals, birds, that come my way
Some days, on insects, I may dine
A fish from a small pond is fine
My talons are like raptor claws
When prey appears, without a pause
I quickly fly from tree to ground
And clench the bird or mouse I've found
My prey I often swallow whole
Complete digestion is my goal
Whatever I cannot digest
Comes up as pellets I express
And something you may think is cruel
When raising owlets, it's the rule
To feed the best and largest first
And so the weakest ones are cursed
A cannibal I can be too
Eat smaller owls that I pursue
I never feel the slightest guilt;
This is the way that I was built
Of owls, there are two hundred kinds
We've been around since ancient times
From small to large, with raptor claws
I think I came from dinosaurs.
February 3, 2016
In the smiting chill of a dreadful wintry night
When through every fiber n’ nerve, was the cold bite,
I was sitting cocooned beside my hearth,
Sipping a cup of steaming tea of my choicest blend.
Suddenly my attention was caught by something moving,
Through my window I saw a shadowy figure.
But who would dare to be out on such a night?
It was a night when winter slumber suddenly had grown,
Into a blizzard with blinding snow and hail flooding
When the land lay blanketed under snow’s strangulating clutch
When leafless trees stood motionless like spectral shadows
When animals stayed in their boroughs or dens in hibernation
But what I thought I had seen earlier
Was not a whim or a figment of my imagination.
I clearly saw someone walking, moving slowly or stealthily.
It disturbed me and I wanted to know who he was.
Unlikely to be a robber or a rogue with some sinister intent.
Could be a man who lost his way and needed urgent help.
Impelled by an irresistible urge to find out who he was,
I plunged myself into the sea of snow holding on to faith.
Faint moon light was shimmering between dancing snowflakes.
Not quite sure if I would find an enemy or a friend,
I walked on, pledging I would face what might come.
As I moved closer to that tottering figure
I realized he was someone half frozen in snow,
Desperately trying to get back home,
And I was on a divine mission to be the hands of God,
To direct a waylaid traveler back home,
And save a helpless soul from being frozen to death.
I don’t know what happened to that man beyond that night,
But am sure, he has survived many more winters,
And would be thankful to God for the providential help,
That saved his drowning life on such a fateful wintry night.
Now when I think of it, I feel even a bleak winter day,
Can be made bright by the power of kindness that we show.
It is the concern and preparedness to help someone in trouble,
That ignites our hearts with a divine spark and helps us connect.
I.
Being bipolar
is like a Rose whose bloom is
missing some petals:
but her color is deeper
than all the other roses.
II.
She may never be
part of a "perfect" bouquet:
but her rich pigment
is a rare, precious paint for
Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa."
III.
Alas! She might not
be like the long-stemmed lily
from the dells of life:
but her scent is the choicest,
and makes the finest perfumes.
IV.
Being bipolar,
therefore, is like a Rose that's
missing some petals:
but her savor is sweeter
than all the other roses.
Laughing sun glinting through the skies
Raining hope and faith to baptize
Promises of dreams come to life
Reviving joy while ending strife
Choicest blooms, vibrantly smiling
Shows of wonder, so beguiling
Kiss of May silences all cares
Beautiful songs, pleasant prayers
A Lay for A Day In May Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
May 1, 2022
I used Rhymezone and How Many Syllables
When you look at a butterfly, what do you see?
The brilliant color and intricate design
A soft, gentle creature, serene
That morphs through its lifetime
And debuts in spring
Dressed in the most glorious attire
Even royalty is envious
Fragile but free with no inhibitions
Pleasing the eye of its beholder
When you look at a butterfly, what do you see?
I see a conveyor bearing
Two hearts attached for its wings
Each independent of the other
Yet they function as one
Exploring enchanted gardens
Tasting an array of choicest delights
Come each spring two hearts reborn
Grown together and morph into one
When you see a butterfly, what do you see?
They planted Hank 'neath a lonesome pine when he came to the end of the trail.
Angels ushered him to the Great Beyond and through that Mysterious Veil.
Saint Peter greeted him, sayin', "I've been a-hankerin' to meet ya, mate!"
Hank noted a sign readin' 'COWBOY SPOKEN HERE' atop the pearly gate!
"I want ya to meet a posse of pards that've been awaitin' yer arrival Hank;
There's Zeke and Tex, Fred and Jack, Moe and Slade and Jed and Frank."
"Ain't no bacon er beans here" said they, "On the choicest grub we dine!
If'n ya hanker to wet yer gullet, there's a Feller who'll turn water into wine!
And then appeared his faithful hoss Old Dan a-sportin' golden shoes!
Old Dan neighed as Hank caressed his pal and they had a genial schmooze!
On Old Dan's back embellished with silver and gold was a western saddle.
Right then and there Hank mounted Old Dan and off they did skedaddle!
As the Lord promised in the Good Book, a bunkhouse was part of the deal.
He dwelt in a room fit for a King with TV and DVD, seeming so surreal!
Hank wore a cowboy suit adorned with diamonds, rubies and jade,
Plus pointy-toed Calvin Klein cowboy boots and a vest of finest suede!
Lastly, Saint Peter placed upon his brow a bejeweled ten-gallon crown,
Sayin', "Welcome to the ranch, pard! Ye've rode the range with great renown!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Durin' my nearly four-score years I've had many a grand repast,
But there's one delicacy that will never, ever be surpassed!
There ain't nothin' like a huge helpin' of luscious fried chicken!
Ah, just thinkin' about it makes my pulse begin to quicken!
Mom was an expert at preparin' a bird for the old iron fryin' pan.
The hapless fowl was beheaded and plucked in the shortest span,
Cut up, seasoned and fried before you could count to ten,
Leavin' the old rooster crowin' in bewilderment sans one hen!
The preacher made his periodic visits for dinner at our house.
Mom's admonition to us kids beforehand always made me grouse.
Sayin', "Let the preacher help himself to the choicest parts!"
So we kids usually ended up with the necks, gizzards and hearts!
If I was asked to plan a dinner menu, here's what it would be:
Heaps of fried chicken, mashed pertaters, gravy and iced tea,
Sourdough biscuits, garden fresh carrots and sweet spring peas,
And for dessert a huge slab of cherry pie ala mode, if you please!
Nowadays the Colonel touts chicken from San Diego to Nantucket,
With all the fixin's in a box, bag or a handy two-gallon bucket,
Spicy or original and fried in lots of grease to a crispy, golden brown,
But I prefer my spouse's southern fried 'cause it's the best in town!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Dar es salaam where I live means heaven of peace
But to me she has proved as well to be a haven of peace.
A peaceful place for any peace-loving person or race.
Atleast selfishly from here seem faraway all warring feuds all bloody massacres.
For here we simply catch sea and fresh water fishes
instead of getting caught up in goddamned skirmishes.
Oh and I live in a land of seven wonders and I stay in a mansion of seven windows
Each of them overlooking a different view
Guys, seven wonders to be exact
but be ready here for both fiction and fact
For I present to you these seven wonders of this land
as if I could view 'em' all from where I stand.
Ah and though I've settled down trying to be content with Tanzania.
A major part of me will always belong to my beloved India.
Well, well my first window has a view of Mount Kilimanjaro
the highest mountain in all of Africa
Rightfully named, the Roof of Africa.
The 2nd window overlooks
Lake Tanganyika
and fishermen with nets and hooks
in the 2nd deepest and longest lake in the whole wide world.
And from my third window can be seen
the famed, fabled and very pretty
Natural park known as Serengeti
Nature's celebrated celebrity.!
The 4rth window affords a view of the wide Ngorongoro Crater
Just as rich in wildlife
Throw some fish to the 'gator
even if it's such a ruthless predator.
The 5th one it overlooks
The great game reserve Mikumi by name
no less in fame
for a choicest variety of game.
As for the 6th window, from there you can see
Lake Victoria too
and I play peek-a-boo
with a marvelous maribou
and cheerily say 'karibu'
from the largest lake in all Africa.
The seventh, the last window gives me a view
of the dry lush gold-green sea of Savannah
Teeming with favorite flora and fauna
Here a rhino, there a hyena
and hee hee 'hear' that mynah
So now it's up to you to plan a trip, a Safari
to this land of precious Tanzanite, the land of the Maasai
.Aha, mind you only the mansion overlooking all that is fictional
and every other detail is soo real and factual.
‘‘A friend once in his youthful flight
Had found a beauty delight
Though distance stretched them in mileage
But their love was destined to find a page’’
A lark that sings in the morning bright
Ke-ke-li, O Kekeli! My beautiful light
The hanging garden upon my sight
Hands of fate has woven a happy home
A love of current, stronger than the Law of Ohm
Invigorating, a love connected at heart
Which God designed never to part
Where there is love,they say there is a way
Our love I believe is here to stay
Kekeli, my beloved, sing me a serenade
A song of an angel’s grade
That in heaven’s clime pervade
Sing it across space and time
And make it last like a rhyme
My beloved Kekeli! You’re my light
You’re my Hephzibah, my only delight
Thou art fairer than Friedan Betty
Thou art matchless in beauty
So calm and inviting like the blue sea
Beauty not to be told but for eyes to see
Behold my mistress of fair skin
Eyes of diamonds, pure and pristine
O Tell me, you whom I was made to love
One, unique in your choicest apparel
Lips of zebra stipes set with a berry
The hanging petals of a blossom cherry
Chief among all my thousands buddies
O Kekeli! The only ruby my finger shall find
And wouldn’t be ashamed to be called uxorious
"For as a young man marries a virgin
so shall your sons marry you, and as
the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
so shall your God rejoice over you". Isa 62:5
An Unwanted Guest
Morning, noon, and night you hang around,
at our house you can always be found.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner you heartily partake
helping yourself to the choicest goodies we make.
On our recliner you relax for hours recalling bygone days;
and we’re sick and tired of all your repeated tales.
Your stale jokes we’ve heard them all before,
so take your gossips with you and go.
I’m sorry that your husband ran off with his girlfriend;
but poor guy, by then he was probably at his wit’s end,
listening to you gripe about your pet peeves again.
Moaning and groaning about every malady under the sun,
your complaints drive us crazy by the time you’re done.
I’m not trying to be mean, please believe
however, when you do get ready to leave,
we’re all worn out and quite relieved.
We’ve tried every hex to make you disappear,
but they haven’t worked cause here you are.
Please, Mrs. Busybody, please go home,
you’ve overstayed your welcome!
2-24-2017
Come online with me, at leisure,
And let’s surf on the Internet.
Like Faustus we shall share pleasure,
Of those websites, dot.com, dot.net.
We’ll log in to desired chat room,
To know how cyber shepherds talk,
Chat, messengers will help us roam,
To each nook and corner to stalk.
We shall hear the choicest songs,
Shall create our own utopia,
We shall create our own web sites,
Shall never face dystopia.
If these delights do make you move,
Come to me soon and be my love.
========================================
Parody of Christopher Marlowe’s poem A passionate Shepherd to his Beloved
In Iambic meter with Rhyme Scheme: abab cdcd efef gg
=========================
Dr. Ram Mehta
Fifth Place win in:
Contest: Your (Own) Choice poem by P.D.
The poem is published in:
http://www.boloji.com/writers/rammehta.htm
www.sonatapub.com
Part One
“The Kurral owes much of its popularity to its exquisite poetic form. A kurral is a couplet containing a complete and striking idea expressed in a refined and intricate metre. No translation can convey an idea of its charming effect. […] The brevity rendered necessary by the form [composed in the Venpa metre] gives an oracular effect to the utterances of the great Tamil ‘Master of the sentences.’ They are the choicest of moral epigrams. […] Tiruvalluvar is generally very simple, and his commentators very profound.”
Rev. G.U. Pope, Former Fellow of Madras University
[Pardon these futile measly words from your great Potiya height: they can hardly belittle your true worth.]
Under what leaky hutment roof by stamped-mud floors
trembling clair-oscuro straw-wick kuttuvilakku
on the stark anvil of crisp phrase and sparse syntax
by the raging nama-nir rhyming brine
at Mayilapur’s S.Thomé sandy doors
while peacocks danced to your innate pulsating chimes
have you chipped away at uncut gems
Those the Yavanas brought with the monsoons
or such as your sea-daring captain friend Elela-Cinkan’s
Even those the Christian missionaries preached
in daredevil enticement
after St.Thomas fell to a vel stuck in his bosom
or of those like you who were stamped underfoot
Caste in cast-iron strictures
Priest only to the proclaimer paraiyar drum-beaters
The warp and woof of intricately woven venpa verse
elevating your weaving clan to fresh artistic heights
YET
in the humbled ways of your birth
on whose steps have you pitched your ears
whose wisdom have you had to pilfer
filter
whose ways have you had to ape
whose mere thoughts have you then had to set aright
ennoble
and remould into inextinguishable lines
Or had you tread the ahimsa path of gentle-foot Jains
Treading gently the earth for fear of loping boot pains
(Continued in Part Two)
Dear Lord this year to save time being lost
remind me- Turkey, Christmas Eve- defrost.
And when it's in the oven, leave no doubt
that I forgot to take the giblets out.
Five loaves, two fishes you fed five thousand,
may I feed six with far less food to hand
since each year bags of food we buy a few
the wheelie bin eats better than we do.
You love little children, what joy they bring,
for me, as tranquilizer, Sherry's king.
I pray , Lord, as I open my gift box
I look pleased with my snowman themed bed socks.
Please let me use only the choicest words
when queueing for pork pies at dawn, at 'Birds' *.
We thank you for the gift of Brussels sprouts
and hinged windows to let the odours out.
Peace keeper may I be as it gets late
and nobody offers to wash the plates.
Above all, Lord, may I remember who
this season is about, and it is you.
* Birds is our local bakery
How sweet is my girl Joan whom I adore.
Much like an ancient goddess handed me
then by Zeus great god known from ancient lore.
This my Athena, choicest maid that be.
To my heart's closed door she now holds the key.
All I have I give free on low bended knee.
This my love I have laid before your throne
A source for thy well being my dear Joan.
A dozen passports, with his photos, confused the law wherever he’s been--
Because he lives in the shadows, and has a number instead of a name.
He spends most nights in casinos, with ladies of dubious fame,
And wears the choicest tuxedos, with the most impressive brand name.
He’s a Double-O-something. It’s said he’s got a license to kill.
You better take my meaning: if he says he’ll get you, he will!
He always drives something faster, with accessories you just can’t buy,
Which leaves trails of disaster. You can’t catch him, don’t even try!
You might spot him in Paris, tailing a gangster or drinking fine wine;
Or playing cards with a terrorist, who soon will be doing hard time.
He’s a Double-O-something. It’s said he’s got a license to kill.
You better take my meaning: if he says he’ll get you, he will!