Best Christens Poems


Blossoms and Bubbles

Effervescent laughter blows over vales
then falls soft to glaze new blooms posed genteel.
Gracious stems lift smiles to foamed skies surreal,
riding on sunrays of shimmery sails.

Splendid dreams bubble up from blossoms bright,
a sparkling scene as petals parade ‘round.
Cushioned on spring breeze, love waits to be found;
warm thoughts of you fly then burst in midflight.

Light bubbles join hands to soar through puffed clouds
winking at flowers in latest spring styles.
Their joy christens lands once silent for miles;
orbs popping with flair in breath’s blooming shrouds.

Laughter lifts skyward, an aerated tale,
of bubbles blown high above blooming vale.

3/25/15 for Olive's Blossoms and Bubbles Contest

Premium Member Seagulls and Scarecrows

I, a salty scarecrow, roam the shoreline
          The moon melts soft like butter on the reach
               Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
     While dropping clams to split upon the beach

The moon melts soft like butter on the reach
          Thus drizzling heaven's hem with Hollandaise 
               While dropping clams to split upon the beach
     The giggling gulls high-dive the dawning haze

Thus drizzling heaven's hem with Hollandaise
          The bisque horizon christens bright, the morn
               The giggling gulls high-dive the dawning haze
     Oh such as this, should all good days be born

The bisque horizon christens bright, the morn
          Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
               Oh such as this, should all good days be born
     I, a salty scarecrow ... roam the shoreline.





~ 2nd Place ~  in the "Seagulls" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.

Required line: "Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine"

( Syllables = 10 per line, counted at HowManySyllables.com )

In the Wizard's Garden

*Inspired by George Dunlop Leslie's painting of the same title

The wizard's slumbering garden 
spins magic with ivy thread.
The lure of this mystical web
snares the beauteous girl in red.

He christens this damsel "Scarlet"
for the hue of her crimson gown,
for the tint of her blooming cheeks
that contrast the ashen ground.

The garden robs her rubescence
to fuel the wizard's dark spells,
draining her beauty and vibrance 
until Scarlet becomes a mere shell. 

But to her, this yard rivals Eden,
teeming with flowers and fruit,
bursting with colour and light, 
from tallest tree to deepest root. 

But her vision is mere mirage
in a garden half-dying and grim,
in a graveyard of latent runes
that veil this labyrinth of sin.

Here in the wizard's garden,
warm breath and cold death collide.
In the guise of a noble pardon,
Scarlet becomes his blind bride.


For Isaiah's "George Dunlop Leslie" contest
Here is a link to the painting: http://www.victorianweb.org/painting/misc/leslie1.html


Orange Sunrise

Heavens orange sphere
Sneaks over the horizon
Christens a new dawn

11/16/2011

Premium Member La Femme Ideale

I love her limpid, clear blue-eyes
      and her long, yellow tresses;
wise, and with grace that never dies
      or wavers, she blesses.

Behind those intelligent eyes,
      she ponders, thinks, and listens;
as I surmise, she feels the rise
      of saintliness that christens.

With golden tresses dressed in waves,
      spooled, and weaved in sage;
she braves the loathing that enslaves,
      assuaging enmity's rage.

Shrewd, wise, and just, she's tolerant,
      patient, kind, and compassionate;
and eschews man's Pride, the giant
      of deadly sins that's intemperate.

But her existence's all but undone,
      for she's more abstract than real:— 
that she's only fiction I bemoan,
      for she's “la femme idéale.”

Premium Member History Sees a Man

The cross is a symbol
of abject suffering
and base brutality,
lacking humanity.

Jesus nailed to the cross,
is a vile depiction of
cruelty and torture
causing anguish and death.

I find it curious
that Christens would select
such a gruesome image
to symbolize God's love.
 
How many innocent
souls have died on the cross
in the name of Jesus,
by so-called popes and priests?

A crucified figure
hanging in agony,
in no way represents
a caring, loving God.

Through His own testament,
Jesus was born a Jew,
and He prayed to Yahweh,
His one and only God.

Although a great healer
and a Jewish Rabbi,
history sees a man
and sadly, so do I.


(Quatrain)


11/4/2017


Civil War Battle

Pulsating honor doth corroded hearts impound
A blustery breeze echoes cries from each, preceding battleground
A recurring, eager parade of reporters, gawkers freely roam distant mound
Below, fatigued, tidy mass of steeled infantry; to death's throes bound
Neighing horses conditioned to mayhem the pageantry doth confound
On opposite ridges, mounted turrets prepared hell's fury to expound
On signal, a synchronized, concussive chorus doth its dark melody propound
Scraps of metal shards initiate; commencing another, toilsome round
After lengthy barrage, wits collected a more lethal volley to stound
Familiar, urgent order to charge christens hallowed ground
With youthful ardor a wide-eyed bugler doth the bridled expanse unbound
Shrieking rancor from recoiling rifles; a familiar anthem doth resound
Recurring cacophonous medley, weathered nerves drowned
Once more, a mass of flesh surges into the abyss with mortal hopes crowned
Anon, shattered limbs; gory wounds misery's cache compound

The Inward

The maze is
Inside.

Navigation here is like trying
To take a dump
After having too much
White rice. 

You get further in
Only to pique 
Frustrated 
In cramps,
Un-amused. 

Perhaps… after the cramps…

You find braces
A gawky smile,

Tightened pants,
A cisgender boy 
Pinning your arms down.

Confusion.
You want it but you don’t.
You don’t want the label of “****.” 
But you do want the experience.

He christens your lips with
saliva and old-tomato juice.
Unpleasant.

What’s more unpleasant are
His rough sausage hands.
Daggers for nails!
He tries to go in.

He fails. 
“Maybe another day,” you exclaim.

Now he is but a ghost, 
In the maze. 

Years pass:
Minutes stretch.
Moments emanate nausea 
And lack subtlety. 

The second wind in the maze, 
you begin to question.
Am I bi?
Am I gay?
Am I trans?
Am I neither…
Am I some…
Am I either…or?

You can’t think! 
Temptations rattle 
As beauties thrust themselves 
In your direction

They say words
That act like Sirens.

Then, 
Like sirens,
Your maze develops scars.

Scars turn to cancer.
Cancer turns to death.
A part of your maze
Is cursed. 

Now you sit, 
Inward.

Questioning,
Angry, 
Wishing you hadn’t 
said certain things.

Because those things 
Have castrated your soul
Into something you wish you did not know.

“Gaslight.”

Please

why my father have you not prepared a table in front of my enemies or have you and I have not seen it.I am not a king in this life but yet a vessel for the devices of evil spoken of in pslams!the days and the nights pass oh so slowly as my shame mounts for the ones I've decreased!I have mastered the demons and know the language that no man can desiffer!the evil doers think my wage of sin is controlled by them but they are wrong and I stand ready for life or death!so many days go by and I long too see the spirits you sent me one of my dearest gifts!my soul can not be contaminated but my mind and body is polluted!I am your magician and work your magic father yahwah!It is my destiney too stop satan from destroying the minds of all christens before they can be saved!Forgive them for the devices of technology and the witchery are strong!i strive too teach your nonperfect saints but fear many don't understand how strong satans minions are!remember father I fight this battle and you protect what I love.lord they cast lots on my head and pray too you for my death.Is it so long I must wait on sweet death to greet me so finely I can see my selah!you have shown me many things in which no man can call fake father!i go into my closet too talk too you but the demons overrun me!I  know your sinning saints are destroying the people who take free thinking and the more they destroy the more the faithful will not fall too perversion butknow the lord and resist the mark of mankind and be lead too salvation!may the people who I train be able too protect many and may many come!I pray for the ones I leave behind!they must be strong and know god has wiped all good from the face of the earth and demons run rampid.I envoke angels on the righteous and demons on the wicked hoping evil shows itself too the unexpecting.I am thine warrior and scribe but lazy as I am in this life I pray a better man will stand and learn and protect the beleivers in this end times!

Beyond the Veil

Sacral veil that shrouds bright hopes, dark fears
Screening altar that christens so deep a bond
Scrolled with the innocence of carefree years
Sacrificial shutter signifying all self-serving interests will abscond
Separating from the corporeal ties that correspond
Shade shielding truant desires from the dawning light
Mantle that merges burgeoning stems into fertile frond
Curtain hiding fawning beauty; maiden's honor not to spite
Mysterious tapestry woven to purposely slight, then seemlessly delight
Universal symbol sanctioning fealty, consecrating fidelity
Satin awning whose placid eaves opprobrium doth disquiet
Temporal cloth lifted; two souls span the bridge to immortality
Ceremonial threads relegated to the scrapbook of blanching time
Cherished patent that spawned a new love in it's prime

Rebel Yell

In the sunken hollow a gray mass 
addles
A silhouette of swaying muskets 
shadows
Braying horses the silent vigil 
rattles
A curdling breeze across feted 
expanse prattles

The stilled pageant concludes with 
the order, "charge"
From sheltering tree line, a 
disheveled mass doth barge
A shrieking, cacophonous chorus 
christens the onslaught
Menacing octave wafts;
Union, tidal waves to 
distraught

Premium Member Encapsulate An Emotion

Popcorn pops!
The bag swells with golden steam. I stop
the microwave to top off papa's favorite bowl.
Salt christens the glistening treat
and I retreat into the family room twilight

as papa pushes play.

2019, F 21
encapsulate an emotion contest, sponsored by nina parmenter

Jason

god has me continuously help thee you must be special too he that has so many spirits in the sky did you know we could die!a special  gift god tell me I have as he begs me too help you his love seeps though!jason I know who you tell me you are as my heart god does scar.will I ever see the one you loved so or in another life will I have too rain too see this man Jason I know is supposely his name.how many times has he truly saved me or is it your angels I can't see!god he has too prepare them for what is too come he is your smoking gun.let him kill every man that destroy your will before revalations gets here!now Jason save these christens for me even though you they will never see for your gods helping hand truely I consider you a friend for saving American Christians minds all through your life sorry about the pain and stiff in your military career.

Depth of Field

Development laps at emaciated canvas
Exponential images whisper a thousand words
Chemical dip shifts generic into candid
Graphic effigy given vigour by a brief submerge


Slippery minutes expand sqare memoir
Retrieved from squalid pool, jumped illustrious
Pregnant with wisdom from an embalm
Faith puts detail on paper basic miscellaneous


Source of light firms fine composition 
Blankness bask enables solid ice to effervesce
Supernatural Spirit delivered christens
Fermented parchment finds miracles manifest



          
              15th February
     Philosophic Rearrangement

Summer Dreams Cloud Autumn Streams

Harvest moon christens autumn's 
regal jubilee
But festive soul pants for June's, 
Rose moon matinee
Autumn's leaves sparkle with newly 
minted sleeves
Yet my mellowed heart for 
summer's jade cloak grieves
Bold colors tinge forest canvas 
with newly painted eaves
But my insatiable eyes for the 
silted, summer meadow seethes
Autumn's mountain orchards with 
crisp, tart apple scents tease
Still my truant nostrils long July's, 
blackberry aroma to breathe
Swirling autumn winds through 
trees a  blithe melody wheeze
But muffled ears strain to hear 
soothing rhythms of a summer 
breeze
My footsteps trod over the quilted 
carpet of autumn's fallen leaves
Yet tingling feet long summer's 
soft, clover strands soles to fleece

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