Best Commence Poems
Be it evidence consequence or coincidence
Every night as I succumb to somnolence
Heavenly smoke rings of frankincense
Rise upwards with sweet opulence
Dulcet dreams inevitably commence
Without fanfare hype or pretense
While sweet loving arms of providence
Wrap around me a shroud of benevolence
Under a scented canopy of impermanence
Ablaze with the aura of glowing confidence
Revealing universal secrets of magnificence
I humbly bow in unpretentious reverence
Adrift in solitude so many nights hence
I reminisce of nostalgia in the past tense
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on June 6, 2019 for contest YOUR CHOICE (3) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
Originally posted on March 6, 2019
She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met - her steps commence.
She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.
The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.
Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.
--------- 8-29-13
Oh, precious one, I need you...
Be the missing ying to my yang.
Come on home to a safe haven
In this warm, cozy heart of mine.
Stay forevermore, I implore thee, because...
Without you, there's a hollow there!
And I'll journey through
This vale of tears, incomplete.
Akin to sunlight without the sun,
Or a shadow without light,
Or a Romeo without his Juliet,
Or a pearl being formed without an oyster.
On my own, I am but a starless night.
My dearest, say you need me, too.
Let me be the sparkling star that shines
With light to fill your heart.
I will be as the sun that rises
To make the shadows dance.
Together our home, will be our universe
Where pearls are at our fingertips.
Warmth will fill every hollow corner
As tears dry and smiles commence.
We'll be a shining duo
High as the moon leading tides.
These tides of love in strength we'll share;
Moving endlessly together.
I'll reach your cozy heart
Where I'll stay forevermore!
All this could be, if you complete me.
I beseech you, make me whole.
Edward Ibeh and Heidi Sands: A collaboration.
Poem of The Day on 01/26/2022
Submitted for...
Do- It (Duets) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr.
Date written: 01/25/2022
Poet's Note: I'd like to take this opportunity thank the prolific, tremendously gifted poetess, Heidi Sands, for being my duet partner for this contest. She jumped at the chance to collaborate with me--despite her current struggle with writer's block--and I couldn't be more grateful and appreciative. I'll forever cherish this romantic poem we created together. I really couldn't have done it without her. I appreciate you, Heidi. xoxo
A spectacular show enlightens heavens above
In ephemeral musings of burning meteoroids
Mimicking likeness of falling ornamental stars--
Beaming streaks of rainbow-colors earthbound,
When earth crosses trajectory of comet's path
Encountering in its way pebbles of cosmic rock
Colliding, illuminating in orbital trespass,
Elements of iron, copper, magnesium, silicone
Glittering within spectra of kaleidoscopic astral art;
Streaming down rockets of blazing stars--
Tinted meteor-showers flaunting nature's panorama
Fixating sights upward where constellations are,
In idyllic August venue gazing ashen sky
Exhilarated witnessing magical phenomenon;
Mesmerizing predawn with seductive stagecraft
Premiering its play slyly when moon's hiding out
And sun's yet to commence ascending golden arc.
August 15, 2019
Placed 2nd: Shooting stars poetry contest
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Placed 3rd: Strand select N contest by Brian Strand
Dawn.
Night sounds of slumber
A few owls hooted their last nightly call,
And cicadas ended their rhythmic, high-pitched whine
In obedience to the rising of the warm sun rays.
The buzzing bees commence their flight,
Flitting from flower to flower, sucking nectar.
The zinnias sway in the light breeze
And mingle with butterflies, so elegant and bright.
Light and soft I hear the flutter of the old oak trees,
As they dance in the rhythm of the growing day.
While from afar the purple mountains
Shed their cascades down into a clear lake.
And as time moves on, I hear the monotonous toll
Of an almost bell urging the handful faithful to praise,
Singing softly some of their favorite psalms.
From the silent forests clouds became overcast,
Drops of rain began to fall. I hurried to my shed,
And simply admired the rain and its pleasant drops.
How sweet were the rhythms of the raindrops.
Pleasure and peace spread all around.
Here, I pray, is a sonnet he may have written upon his passing on, ironically, his 52nd birthday, April 23rd 1616...
The Bard Bequeaths
'Twas two and fifty years of mortal worth,
This twenty third of April owned thy fate.
Thy soul commence and hence departs this earth
In midst of spring as summer's passions wait.
Those passions drip from quill like dagger's tears,
The blood of inspiration spake and writ,
Like life itself, upon the stage appears
Until, at last, a poison potion sipped.
Though ne'er a day begets where peace doth dwell
There, hidden in the chaos is reward.
Though, like the Queen of Scots, there was no knell,
Thou tarry not, before the henchman's sword.
Mine heart doth pray that thou hath left behind,
Conception's want that cannot be confined.
As it unfolds, labeled cold, a wall confines the innocent
It looms of iron, bricks, where stones
are thrown and rifles aimed
to claim the hopes of those intent
to breech the sniper's scope
Risks are grave, if they should fail
and graves mound high, among the brave
Outrage cries, games commence - incident or accident
the game of spies, U know why-- a U-2 flies
against the grain of do or die
A chessboard filled with stakes so high,
they may enrage a fist to rise in wars against democracy
Labeled cold, …but hot as hell
pawns are played, and deals are made
Men sit alone within a cell, restrained, until a deal is tossed
Lines are crossed, a bridge is crossed, and breaths are held
for lives of men. Like ransomed gold
they are played, and waged as if a game of chess,
where consequence is life or death
and peace depends on games of chance
.............................................................................................
2/25/16 Inspired by Contest: "Pick a Theme: Bridge of Spies"
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Resubmitted For PD's contest:
100 in a ROW contest -- 11 PREMIERE number 2Poetry Contest
Somnolence of sweet dreams.
These are given to be most combustible or tranquil.
Taken them in midday and midnight flights.
These truly are a delicate delight.
Now, soaring adoring and affixed with inner might.
Mortals dream to release a dove or hawk tonight.
To be exercised is our inside plight.
We have been given grace, mercy and divine inspiration,
to surpass these extremities in life.
If, we do not defer hope, we are able
to elevate ourselves to greater heights.
We only being bound by Earth’s invisible
gravitational atmospheric rights.
I feel, I see, I live, and yet, still possible to die.
We have an ethereal essence;
ours is an entity of intrinsic light.
A spiritual immortality given us at birth with foresight.
Our future already written on invisible scrolls for us to recite.
There are angel allies traversing multiple dimensions
of time and space to unite.
Winged warriors warring and winning
a contested celestial battle and fight.
I do ride upon golden and platinum colored
feathered wings of a very large eagle this very night.
This to win the battle of the imagined Enkro land
most lethal of sites.
The morning time abruptly commence.
I realize that I had been dreaming, to be
awakened by the dawn's early bright rays
of the sun refreshing and renewing sunlight.
There is an antique writing desk
in my little study
handed-me-down
from generations of would-be
writers in my family
And there are ancient creatures
from days gone by
living in this old desk still
evil, larcenous little creatures
envious of literary skill
This explains much
Lately, I have caught them unawares
aghast, thought I imagined them
but they are really there
surly, sinister, repugnant creatures
in my writing desk
There's a putrid little jerk,
called Pernishicus who lurks
behind the piles on my desk
glorying in the mess
a malevolent, grimy-mauve gremlin
Who preys on newly created works
stealthily spraying them
with foul feculence
as soon as I commence
my writing-
...Sometimes missing slightly
and tagging my hand
making it hard to stand
myself (much less my writing)
for days on end
Then there's a creepy
mesmerizing fiend
they call Spelbadger
a translucent thing, quite obscene
who shifts in the shadows and purrs
With dark eyes deep- constantly changing
like stones from mood-rings
set in his skull
he psychically bullies,
intimidates and muddles
until my poor brain
is worn and dull
And perhaps worst of all
is that one, Grumblesleaze
with pale, glowering eyes diseased
a gray-green, mangy looking thing
whose famous quirk
is that he has the gall
to grouse about my work...
As he viciously shreds it
then glunshing and munching
greedily devours it all
leaving no note
or trace of remembrance
of my past brilliance
behind
Oh, out of spite
he might leave a few
of my ill-penned
unfortunate lines
I planned to cut anyway
or pull my worst attempts
from the waste-can
and lay them out
to remind me of my failures
Yes, this explains much
For there was only one before
our one lone ancestor
who was able to write
at this desk prolifically
tapping out volumes rather heroically
'Though tiresome and tedious
dry history and drivel
which, no doubt, shrank and shriveled
and lulled these creatures off
to sleep for years
Until we woke them up
broke their hibernation
with more interesting stories
and imagination, colorfully crafted
ingenious, piece after piece
Clicking and clacking away
on typewriters, keyboards
generation after generation
of irritatingly gifted writers
disturbing their peace
it had to cease...
It's a new day today,
New challenges ahead,
New things to be explored,
New roadways to be tread.
Each day has its lessons,
From which we get to learn,
Sometimes, there are new risks,
Which teach us to discern.
Let us thank and praise God,
Each day as we commence,
And He'll carry us through
Each new experience.
03/21/17
(6 syllables in each line)
My self-awareness is clear.
Blunt.
It's ugly and painful. To call it enlightening, is putting it lightly.
Honestly though, it's relieving, intriguing, and totally necessary.
Character building, and damn near life-saving.
They say "seeing is believing"... But what about these feelings?
The temporary, non-factual, and oh so ing deceiving.
I prefer to walk this life in honesty. Real, raw, and owning responsibility.
Without concern for the possibility of living "lonely".
My truth.
Your truth.
THE truth.
I struggle to grasp how it's so hard to direct all my best efforts...
ANot for you, not for him, or for any of them. But for me. And at least for now, only me...
Like clockwork. One, two, three.
The bad decision making.
I always have been, I am now, and always will be, my own worst enemy.
Some will say that they "admire" my ability.
My ability to rep nothing more, and nothing less... Then just me.
Inside I'm laughing.
It's almost really ing funny!
With a head clouded thick and smokey and a heart I seem to keep on freezing.
Painful realities,
I continue to keep on stuffing.
Like it's all okay. Right here, right now...
see in my eyes that my lips are saying it.
Again.
Sell off another piece of my soul & commence to feeling nothing.
Turns out with all this ducking and dodging of reality, I myself am being robbed of the real me.
The chick they so ignorantly pretend to be "admiring".
It's gotten to the point of what I deem as wasteful & petty, being sold short...
Ultimately starving your life, my life, and this bag Society, of true, legit beauty.
The crimes of passion that fuel within me.
The answers remain exposed. Ever so transparently.
As I once said, my self-awareness is more than a blessing.
Granting the ability to understand what blatantly lay before me.
Allowing my swollen eyes to see ever so clearly.
Observing, the chaos and defeat.
hear me say, although I'd prefer to scream....
No matter the faulty choices, or the seemingly impossible hopes and dreams...
I can be my own muse, my own Mentor, I will be just me. My own home team.
Completely denying the hopelessness that the greatest of evil strives to feed within me
so many times beneath the stars
our lives are lived for fate and scars
infancy seems to abound
from everywhere it screams its sound
too loud to hear the voices true
without a sound, it comes to you
it strikes with force, a fist, a roar!
so strong a warmth you can't ignore
the vision marred by human sense
for now the journey must commence
the trials begin with fervor rise
a gaze glares straight within the eyes
so hard to suffer ends defeat
victories are ever sweet
the sky preludes the next advance
all surety, no happenstance
a place of firm and solid lore
where the light and night I wore
as symbols of forever more
no longer will I toil and chore
-Sam Robinson
Poem genesis from:
Stardust Road
by Poet Destroyer A
(Shakespearean Sonnet)
The blue-grass music blares from speaker's face
as guys and gals entwine moon-round the floor,
she sits alone, ignores the dancers' pace
although her ears record the rhythm score.
He begged her love; he painted instant fame.
She nursed her song in dreams alive to wit,
she trusted him to give the verse her name,
and reasoned out they spun a perfect fit.
With traitor's greed intense, he stepped aside,
and claimed her song as his with no remorse.
He left her raw, his chest out-puffed with pride.
Disgraced, abased, her anger reinforced,
she writes another song, recounts the tale,
assured his star will now commence to pale.
March is a time of transition
winter and spring commence their struggle
between moments of ice and mud
a robin appears heralding the inevitable
life stumbling from its slumber
it was in such a period of change in 1905
that the House of Physics
would see its Newtonian axioms
of an ordered universe collapse
into a new frontier
where the divisions of time and space
matter and energy
were to blend as rain and wind
in a storm that broke loose
within the mind of Albert Einstein
where Brownian motion danced
seen and unseen, a random walk
that became his papers marching through science
reshaping the very fabric of the universe
we have come to know
we all share a common ancestor
a star long lost in the eons of memory
and yet in that commonality
nature demands a permutation
a perchance genetic roll of the dice
which births a new vision
lifting us temporarily from the mystery
exposing some of the roots of our existence
only to raise a plethora of more questions
as did the papers of Einstein in 1905
SAN DIEGO 9/05 Philosophy of Science Portal
Tim Ray Poet Colleague
i was working as a "Stringer" for the above blog searching the Internet for articles on physics and philosophy and was asked to write this as part of a celebration of the 100-year mark of Einstein's papers. i do not do requests but i conceded for reasons. my claim to fame herein is a poke at Einstein's statement that God does not play with dice, however, was not he a permutation in the scheme of things? and lest we forget he objected to the Big Bang theory holding onto the Steady State with other scientists because it was too much like Genesis. and lost to Bohr over Quantum Entanglement, settled by John Stewart Bell...but who is counting? and these peccadillos stand in little shadows of those papers in 1905.
The harsh winds bite at my very soul
Alone I sit, waiting for the fight to commence
Heart racing, sweat pours despite the cold
Caution…not today
The warrior reaps the spoils
Cowards merely pray
Scars are reminders
Painful, but not fatal
Lessons of a fighter
Forward! I march to claim what is mine
Steel raised above my head
My sword of truth transcends time
Seize the day!
Lord steady thy hand
Use wisdom, guide my way
The moment is now
Not past heartaches
Nor future vows
Slay the demons, for they must fall
Thrust thy sword deep
Only then will I hear Victory’s call