Best Combining Poems
I don’t know tic tac toe
so I rhyme this with flow,
showing Nick Nac knows
how to serve the perfect dose.
Measuring the rhymes
like I’m pleasuring the lines,
leisure for the minds
like I’m lemon and I’m lime,
1st and 2nd personalities
pushed to share realities,
combining combat and comebacks
as I incompetently rap,
you’re ripping me now
it’s a banter attack,
shyt but gripping somehow
as I pant and sound crap.
It’s another chicken dinner
from Mr Trim Trimmer,
not a rapper or a singer
but, a mother loving winner.
POTD 02/02/2019
Energy is neither created, nor destroyed
but does transform
witness the log burning in the fireplace
cellulose and lignin combining with oxygen
yielding heat, water and CO2
and with you sitting so close beside me
another transformation's coming on.
Yet cracks appear as we age,
time and entropy take their toll,
and these days we go to more funerals
than weddings and christenings.
We've made arrangements to smooth
our affairs for those who remain and
laid up good whiskey and cognac
for our last remembrance.
I've chosen green burial
in a 500 year forest;
you cremation,
with your ashes
pressed into
a forever
diamond.
While we know our genes
carry on in our children
and our atoms will still cycle,
but there remains the question
of how the bit that makes us
us will merge with the cosmos.
God pours in His best ingredients
Combining hope, faith and love
With grace, peace and promise
For joy that will forever praise Him
God flows through the one who knows
His love abides in the heart and soul
Piercing the darkness with a tender light
Who whispers in silence, inspiration
Insight that invites the believer to see…
Through His mercy there will forever be
Strength and beauty, forever purity…
In the human spirit, where there is truly
Wonder that can’t be seen, but only felt
By the one who believes in the Savior
Who poured out His spirit inside each of us,
The souls who know that His love is alive
Abiding, like a gentle fire, … burning away
All the doubt and despair, the darkness
That might feel like a cloud hanging down
Over the spirit who knows that, with Him,
There is a promise that forever dances
To the music of belief that never wavers
Conviction that is always honest and trust
In the One who created us to grow
Through the unending devotion that shines
Through every tender mercy, in the spirit
Who knows that His light shines bright inside
Where the human spirit is designed to unite
With the Holy Spirit, the abiding touch
From a Savior who loves so very much
He actually came down and died for us!
The Human Spirit Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
September 18, 2022
It is the conversation
between the poet and the jester.
The poet- with solemn introspection;
the jester- with careless regard,
each captivating the other.
It is the ultimate irony
of this unlikely coupling,
entwining their words,
combining truth and mischief,
sabotaging established decorum.
Neither threatened nor contrite,
nor challenging the others' wisdom,
but with enthusiastic fornication
and eager indecency
they consecrate their mutual madness
They are two peas in a pod....this pair having fun
I can't help but smile, as I sit on the steps
by the old front porch, watching them romp
on the cool green grass, in the warm winter sun
This sunny little boy, with the gold in his hair
And his funny best friend, wagging a tail here and there
Their spirits are one, it is hard to divide them,
And their souls seem half child, half canine, combining...
Running the length of the yard as they play,
Jumping the jumps as if one and the same
Dancing the dance as they wear out their game....
Shaking my head, I must ponder the bond
It's no wonder instead ...., as they're both gifts from God
Squeals of child laughter, as loud as he can
A wag of a tail, like a circular fan...
If the child could wag and his dog could holler
They would gladly trade places, I'll bet you a dollar
Two of a kind, with spirits to spare
That can cause one to laugh or pull out your hair !
From my perch by the porch, I'm watching them play
Love is so simple, at the end of the day
Filled by these moments, these small gifts from God
Love is so simple, as two peas in a pod
Here is a sample, just watch it unwind...
Just as God made them...they are two of a kind........
-------------------------------------------------------
Some poets take Soup contests so seriously
If they lose they respond so injuriously
We’re here to have fun; isn’t that really the point?
And a czar of ALL contests, we just won’t anoint
We win and we lose but grow tired of the whining
The stress, grief and tension are all now combining
If you suffer poormewhininglosersyndrome
Just remember the prize you can’t always take home
We all spend a lot of time writing for contests
If we win only one, we should feel we are blessed
We must all learn to eat humble pie now and then
And put an end to brooding like flustered old hens
i mind when i was wee
playing games with my sister
we kept each other free
me and my sister
we loved with all our hearts
protecting each sister
even after having kids
joined each sister
Combining all these things
playing all the games
loving with our hearts
loving each others kids
We are glued, me and my sister!!
By Kate Mcnaughton.
You could feel it couldn't you
son who has left the room
mother electricity
the 1,000 bolts
10,000 volts
(not even 27 years could cure)
I give myself over
I fall
and I gladly go
i swan dive
to rock bottom
I will face that stone
I will smack
I will crack
Nd still I will be reborn
caught on a wave
so Drakar delicious
it sticks to my skin
and I stay close to it's heavenly scent.
this perfect
nameless thing
I am a lost puppy aimlessly circling
in an undertow
a tamer of wild lions
the gladly caged walking the plank into a cushion of clouds
moon walking
dream talking
smiling for my day of execution
if only you could measure the room
see the lightning
see the electricity
of soon to be lovers
joined with the power
the power
of love?
why i could make love in the air yet
i could be completely clothed
swaddled
in bondage
and still I could make love.
who needs kisses
They are there in the air like raindrops
currents
fresh flowers
fruits that can be taken by the armload
they are in the molecules
the atoms
the tributary
the neural net
a direct link
to the future we
all else palls in comparison
becomes laughable
i recognize the breadcrumbs
from the bread
the utter peace makes me a want Snow White sleep
makes me want to surf the day in my elven' dreams
to keep my secret safe from time
to firefly fly or to catch in a jiffy jar
what is us
Our lovely mad chemicals combining
our arcs & magnificent architectures
explosions too delicious
to taste...(or keep?)
In little towns the big events are locally presented,
and every family in the town is usually represented.
Shopkeepers shut their doors when a pioneer curls his toes,
and if someone’s up to mischief, then everybody knows.
Every sporting club is well supported, right down to the wire,
they are the social hubs of towns to set the youth on fire,
through footy clubs and netball clubs combining into one
to sing and dance the night away, promoting local fun.
Of course when youth is mixed with party love can fill the air,
so Cupid’s firing arrows through the hearts of those who care.
This sometimes leads to earnestness when love gets in the way;
the town is now preparing for there’ll be a wedding day.
There’s heaps of preparation from the family of the bride;
flower girls and pretty maids to stand right by her side.
There’s the minister and invitations; the caterers are right.
All the groom must think about - “Are you coming to the bucks night?”
It’s half past five and dawn is breaking; we’re coming back to town.
God knows who is driving but their foot is going down.
There’s nugget, sauce and butter, smeared over everything;
the bucks party is over now - it’s ten hours ‘til the wedding.
And now coming up behind us is a mass of flashing light,
when a siren started blaring; we thought it better to take flight.
We shot around some back streets trying to lose this cop,
then someone with a drunken slur, said “I think we better stop.”
Popularity is not the word that I would say is spoken next.
This angry cop took any plea completely out of context.
He wouldn’t listen to a word that’s said, repeating “That’s enough!”
before I heard the second click of a closing set of handcuffs.”
In a cell back at the station there’s a pall of doom and gloom.
And there’s a hint of panic when it’s mentioned in the room,
by the cop who indicated strongly that by giving him some flack,
we’re gunna stay locked up until his Sergeant arrives back.
I made every kind of plea I could, but this cop avoids my dreading.
He said “Young lad you’re lucky; my Sergeants at his daughters wedding,
so he’ll be in a good mood when he greets you in this room.”
“Don’t bloody count on it” I said - “Because I’m the flamin’ groom!”
CLEM POTTS AND THE MOON
not a pleasant sound
combining potts with the moon,
but, farm girls had learned
clem potts, in his rustic way,
was quite the village dreamer
lord of the haystack,
when the field was night-flooded,
the cows all asleep,
was he crooning his love theme -
clem potts, wily moon-schemer
her name, clara june
was the prettiest filly
with clem all aswoon
she’d met clem potts at the fair
where he’d won the ‘dog-eat’ fest
forty chili dogs
the last one nearly come up
he could still taste it
the beans, the hot tomatoes
belch without puke, the test
and, by god, he’d won,
had staved off hurl tornado
stored the big rumble
that churning away inside
mixed with green bile and the rest
he was quoting keats -
the moon-streaked straw in her hair -
thinking not those chili dogs,
about to brush clara’s cheek,
bent on a roll in the hay
clem said, “i love you.”
lord when lips formed the last word
clem’s gut did a flip
and the poor young clara june
turned blue from the blast, then gray
If your name is Potts I must apologize, so too if Clara June.
my throat growls
breathless anticipation- -
I open your note
Never having heard your voice, I will choose, choose to love the way your thoughts
vibrate along my sympathetic spine, the intertwining, inclining, irritating, yet,
satiating flow of your verbs.
perfumed scent
wafts from tear stained pages- -
euphoria trails
Never having touched your skin, I will love you for the comfort tea of your purely
honest soul. Even though, I may not call to mind a scent, the musk of your cologne,
your adjectives and adverbs, dress and undress my day.
tears flow joyfully- -
perhaps in another life
to be quenched
I am ever jealous of your sweet wife, yet, I will always, for love which cares not for
the selfish self, leave you happy in her arms.
*Form haibun combining haiku and narrative
haiku by Charles Henderson
narrative by Debbie Guzzi
Smoke ladened vision
scratching at my eyes
making them cough,
conversations drift
across the panorama
of my hearing.
(the world needs more poets)
Words rattle,
separate conversations
combining,
melding,
sinking up together
to make sense.
(the world needs more poets)
9/11,
always honored,
Johnny Cash
filled space
with honorable reasoning
biting at laws flaws.
(the world needs more poets)
My mind
sinks inside itself,
grabbing at the crimson and dark,
lancing the boils of imagination
and still notes drifts in
soothing the savage beast.
(the world needs more poets)
Stay off the sidelines,
bite into the fabric of life,
feel the blood
run down your chest,
exciting your nerves
as you lick your lips
and wait for the next inspiration.
The world needs more poets.
(This was inspired by a congregation of people)
Vows get recanted as passions flounder
on the shoals of betrayal and remorse.
And drifting dreams navigate in darkness
whenever love starts to wander off course.
Beware of lust, a cunning emotion,
touting trickery and deceit as truth.
The seeds of trust oft germinate slowly,
and patience is a virtue new to youth.
Naive hearts are vulnerable to lies,
for the truth often appears conflictive.
Yet when love creates tears of happiness,
their salty-sweet taste can be addictive.
The feeling of being unique and prized
is awesome, combining two into one.
And purges the hurt from a broken heart,
instilling happiness, laughter, and fun.
Intimate moments make life worth living,
a time when your heart's devoid of despair.
Even though it is intangible, love's
physical impact is beyond compare.
To be loved is to feel wanted and whole,
instantly giving life a brand-new start.
For it's a miracle unto itself,
asking only that you believe your heart.
(Quatrain)
9/30/2017
Birdsong
Skies of the brightest blue
Uncluttered by pollutions
Birds circle overhead
Looking for a place to roost
Males with their bright colors
Looking for a mate for the spring
Chirping into the cool valley air
Songs of greetings and invitations
They echo off the trees and mountains
Combining into a symphony
Males and females meet
They sing and dance into the early evening
Joining together in an ancient ritual
And life begins again
~
Butterflies, magical little creatures,
abstract painted wings in hypnotic designs,
like Dali and Monet collaborated
with gratis paint and unhinged brush strokes
Combining beauty with misunderstood nonsense,
melted watch towers on flowing bridges
above lily pad sentinels with twisted faces
One palette, two brushes, an endless sky
filled with a multitude of rainbows - of colors
on an easel of fragmented vines
and soft flowing orchid leaves,
winding their way into the vaulted plain
of our visionary quests, soothing every need
as they fly from flower to flower
It is at this point I realize that -
if this is the case, then
my body must be a gallery
of the finest work ever known,
for each time my eyes find your smile,
your beauty gazing upon me,
these wonderful winged creatures of nature
invade me, every part of me and I experience the most
wonderful fluttering sensation - you
~