Best Commonplace Poems
My life is like that of a commonplace horse
that stays where they’ve put her all day;
she lives very much like the others, of course,
accepting her fate, eating hay!
At times she is plowing ( for work is her lot);
at other times, giving a ride
to those who reward her with a smile. . . or not!
But seemingly, she’s satisfied.
For like many others, who graze in the field,
She’s needed and loved; she gets by.
Though life is not bad, to routine she must yield,
but her mind - which can’t rest - wants to fly!
You see, I’ve a soul not that of this mare.
I look through the fence and I see
pastures much greener, and far away there
are places much sweeter for me. . .
I see myself frolicking in quietude
where the world has a rainbow hue.
With fanciful musings my mind is imbued
and the roses I’m sniffing are blue!
I’m gentle, romantic, yet wild and carefree,
and my coat is a glistening white.
Liltingly, I move like poetry.
And my essence is pure delight.
Yes, over that fence, I so want to go -
where creative thought is born;
where lyrical words with euphony flow,
for I am a unicorn!
For Greg Barden's 'The Poet's Own' Poetry Contest
You said age's only a number, beauty's skin deep
Wise words to live by, now if I could only sleep
Humor never can be taken away, have no regrets
Live like there's no tomorrow, an elephant never forgets
Since the day we met, things have been so right
Thankful for our meeting, making spirits bright
No more feeling lonely, no more feeling stressed
Friendships have started, I am feeling blessed
Not a day has passed without a smile on my face
Feeling happy has now become commonplace
Brought together by chance or was it by fate
Any way you put it, my friend, you are truly great
Ocie the Ocelot liked words a lot!
As a tot, words like dot and trot hit the spot
Then, getting older, the folder on her shoulder grew bolder
What was once handy stopped ringing so dandy
Craving vocabulary candy to bandy
She sought what she ought, to form lukewarm to hot
Mooshu, the emu guru, knew what to do
To bring notice and gain focus
Journey there, to the oracle's lair
The fortress of Morris the Thesaurus Tortoise
When she approached his door, saying, "I want more!"
His smile creased - he replied, "Your covet's increased!"
She confessed her distress at being a pest
But he said, "My dear, you're not stubborn - you're tenacious!
You're not merely aware - you're perspicacious!"
It's not only knowledge; it's proficiency, cognition, discernment
For ideas, impressions, concepts, brainstorming segments
Be bold, audacious, intrepid, resolute, gallant
Credit your capacity, flair, savvy, talent
Evade the cliche, the commonplace, the trite
Clamp on, lacerate, masticate, bite!
Hours freed, for her need to succeed
Then, at the end, one final creed to heed-
Don't fall a slave to the misbehaving knave
Sometimes, the simpler speech is the one to save.
3/4/19
Poem of the Day 3/06/19
It was the last year of high school and there was a lack of beaux,
But then I got an invite. Whew, that was close!
So now the Prom was coming and I was going to go!
Mom gassed up for the city, headed out with me in tow,
Big stores all hunched together on a tall and scary street,
One dress along a rack with just repeat, repeat, repeat.
But Mom found a creation in an entirely different place,
Moulded tulle and satin, fairy dust and moonlit lace!
I thought she was kidding though the thing was just my size.
I was worried; fairy tales don't often turn out to be wise.
And the price tag is ridiculous! I said Mom take a look!
She plunked it down determinedly, tore a check out of the book.
That left a lot for me to do. My looks are commonplace.
New makeup and new lipstick; how about new face?
Silken shoes, a tiny purse, it's a lot of stress
Just trying to live up to this fantastic dress!
Rhinestone droplets dangle dangerous from my ear,
My long hair piled up high. How much taller I appear!
Prom night came...Poor Tommy! I was done up to impress.
My hair swept up, my makeup on, long earrings and the Dress!
He stood there in the doorway, uncertain in his tux,
Black tie, stiff shirt; this is getting all too much!
The corsage he held between us was carnations glowing red.
He looked up cautiously and ventured; "Is that you, Bo?" he said.
When Poetry Soup becomes infested with partisan rubbish,
It will be difficult for liberal, creative poets, like me to flourish
Who seek a safe place away from the maddening ignorance
Of those people who continually despise political difference
For those who are angry and want to say the nastiest things
Do you have any idea what hurt your insatiable blather brings?
For some who don’t consider me a red-blooded American patriot,
I fought for the U.S. of A. in uniform when you were still just a tot!
I would rather die on the altar of honor than continually be castigated
By followers of a “wannabe” dictator who every day prevaricated
And sought to drag our country down into the muck and mire
Continues, to this day, stoking his sycophants’ hatred with fire.
Selecting a political putdown of President Joseph Biden for Poem of the Day
Was surely inappropriate if Poetry Soup administrators wish to say
The site maintains neutrality when it comes to political discourse
It encouraged poets, in their remarks, to choose up sides, of course
Anger and vitriol hurled toward us who are of more left-leaning mind
Will likely now become commonplace for those who are not so inclined.
Frankly, I despise clicking on a poem I think will be worth reading
Only to find, instead, an anti-American tirade of invective leading
To put-downs against our president, the vice-president, and first lady
Half-truths and conspiracy theories that, for the most part, are shady
If you are unhappy with the free and fair election that turned out your man
Then, every chance you get, go vote and change the system, if you can!
Our country is not, I think we’d all agree, a perfect democracy
We have lots of problems and crises – that's plain to see, but,
We now have a leader who cares about doing what is right
A man, who in short-order, is ready, committed, and willing to fight.
I have travelled the world over, north and south, east and west
Freedom to flourish in America is head and shoulders above the rest!
Written: April 4, 2021 (edited)
Awarded Poem of the Day on Poetry Soup
April 5, 2021
#38 on Best New Poems on Poetry Soup
April 6, 2021
"The Epiphany Rose"
All well and good,
the story unfolds;
the isolating madness
drew out the poets
in all the shunned
playing up and out
their origami
word games
something like
an epiphany rose
in them, the mad,
recalcitrant ones,
like nuns leaving
the genuflecting aisles
turning backs
before all their
starched alters
dripping idols
no longer really there,
they were somewhere
outside of It all;
the closed rose
turned around
to walk as one,
out the doors
into the blazing sun
finding some
strange reunion,
peeling off their
dark layers,
their novitiate
romance, their
too hot habits
disgarded
under indigo sky
of long dark nights,
reeling in the dream
like cotton thread
from a spinning wheel,
strange Ezekial creatures,
their nakedness
witnessed like
whirling dervish
calling in revolutions,
the expected extracted
arriving in the rolling clouds
another kingdom comes
swiftly opening
minds like roman candles
exploding like spiders
across the stars…
the timeless road
is now wide open
and well lit
(Ladylabyrinth / 2023)
"…the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars…”
(Keroac)
"Wherever the spirit would go, they would go, and the wheels would rise along with them, because the spirit of the living creatures was in the wheels. When the creatures moved, they also moved; when the creatures stood still, they also stood still; and when the creatures rose from the ground, the wheels rose along with them, because the spirit of the living creatures was in the wheels."
(Ezekial)
“Oh, honey my life and it's got me old fool gold
In the gold dust rush I can only genuflect
Oh, honey my life and it's got me old fool gold
In the gold dust rush
In the gold dust rush
Honey it is horrible
(In the gold dust rush)
There's locusts in there
She's got the old fool gold …"
(Cocteau Twins)
"The Meditative Rose"/Dali
"You are ... different, aren't you?" she said, crinkling her nose.
That sentiment, spoken by my fourth grade home-room teacher
Had been paraphrased many times before
(And would be countless times again)
Different, unusual, odd, weird, curious, complex, or just plain strange
Those were the kind ones - the ones I can repeat
My favorite, however, was "unique"
The day my mother put it into that sensible little frame, I knew ...
I ... was HOME.
You see, we creative folk
Are not put on this good earth to "fit" into it
We are not molded to be a status quo part of society
But rather, set apart FROM society
Our gifts are granted us in order to change the world
Not continue the order of its mundane spin
We are interpreters of the language of beauty and ingenuity
We weave expression and imagination into what's tangible and visible
Turning ideas and emotions to the substance of words and color and sound
Bringing light and clarity to variation and choice
We are the very children of NON-conformity
Living proof that acquiescence and conventionality stifle the human spirit
We are soldiers of vision, innovation, cleverness, and inspiration
Fighting the war on commonplace, submission and docility
Battling daily in the name of ALL who are unlike the Average Joe
And bringing inspiration to the world.
So, do I think I'm "special"?
Yes, for we are ALL special ... every single human is born with unique gifts
Ours - the artistic talents - just happen to be of a creative fashion.
Yes, I am odd, strange, weird, different, unusual, and unique ...
And I am BLESSED ... to be so.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "CReAtiVe CoNForMiTy" Poetry Contest, John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
This love, enduring - ballast of the soul
is ever curing, thee to mine, not role,
but a clear stream of commonplace, of knoll,
that not division's grinding can control!
Heart spoken, not then of some earthly toll,
life's emptying - its prisons, its extol
is neither weight's dissension or escrow,
that carrying as to mention, only know.
Love's ballast - risen, tempered - Godly show
is faith within, the inner mind's re-vow
does save, and then does throw away the dole,
while joy of true love, living is enow!
"Picasso Blues"
Blue Sky
met
Blue Feather
on a
Blue Day
Collaborating
a slow dance
across the
lost dance floor
crowded
with more
than a thousand
hidden
keys to truth
ignoring
a thousand
poker playing
game changing
whispers blinking
in the dark room
poetically
seduced
immersed in
mirrors
shades of
dark and light
fingers playing
out notes in
quite volume
drowning in
black and white
to loud
slow rolling
Picasso Blues
silence
in a moment
romanced
no noise
and those
wide open
emerald green
hues
reflecting
freediving
fathomless
Periwinkle Blues
(LadyLabyrith/2019)
"Picasso Blue" / Might Mo Rodgers
https://youtu.be/AkPcNCnQU70
"I'm So Lonely" / Mighty Sam McClain
https://youtu.be/zBFjWr_sJh8
"Am I the One" / Beth Hart
https://youtu.be/ziy_WKNnNNk
“[...]the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”
Jack Kerouac, On the Road
“Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.”
Anais Nin
"Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don't be sorry.”
Jack Kerouac
Author's Notes: ;)
1. https://buddyguy.com/index.cfm
More than anything Nature fascinates me
Men living in close proximity to nature, I love to see
So I ramble into the city’s far outskirts
Watching ordinary people in commonplace pursuits
Imbibing much from the life of the peasantry
Whom none can beat in life’s lessons elementary
How they interact devoid of all cold formality
And remain free from all artificiality
I inhale the fragrance of the wayside blooms
Watch kingfishers and parakeets in colorful plumes
My eyes never miss Nature’s minute caprices
And I rejoice in home bound birds’ sonatas
I watch the daylight paving way for the night
And the sun willfully surrendering his might
I listen to the invisible choir, singing in the dark
That breaks the sacred silence of the dusk
How these common scenes fill me with delight
Nevertheless making me sorry for the unhappy plight
Of those unable to enjoy any ordinary scene
And turn their backs to pleasurable sights umpteen
Blessed are those who have eyes to see and feel
And remain happy being close to Nature’s heel
Whose ears are attuned to the beats of the average
And who need no other intoxicating beverage
Those who get a kick out of the commonplace
And seek everyday banal sensations to embrace
________________________________________
May.21.2022
Fascination and Awe Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Jeff Kyser
As I am growing older and life becoming lonelier,
The past beckons, and though I had almost tossed it out,
The idea of going back to my native land and my people
Now grows in me as an urgency with no trace of doubt.
I shall go, my soul flying faster than my supple limbs
To perch on my native land that I left long time ago
To see the changes, these intervening years have brought
And to revive the glorious past that in me still aglow
To listen again to the melodious tunes, half forgotten
To laugh and talk with my one- time bosom friends
To enjoy a life lighter and less demanding
Free of all finesse, rid of all stilted and crazy trends
I shall visit each of my lovesome former haunts
The parish church and my parents' forlorn graves
I shall go to the village school which I loved the best
That still resurrects in me memories, waves on waves
I shall go wandering through the country roads
Listen to birds' shrill calls, lovely and clear
Watch the smile rekindling old familiar faces
And enjoy the sweet rustic air, dust free and pure
I want to watch the Gulmohar in opulent bloom
Feel the scent of jasmines opening at night
Walk through the paddy fields stretching endless
Enjoy all the rural scenes that greatly delight
Climb the small hill where gooseberries grow
Wind down my way to my friends’ quarters
And travel farther to the river side with my pals
To have a dip in the river's cool and clear waters
Oh, I shall be away from the roaring crowd for ever
And relish the peace and quiet, free of all grinding chores
Cling to life's commonplace things and charms
Find my own footing there, never to be back to alien shores!
I am a large woman,
Broad lovely hips,
Soft round belly,
Big luscious lips.
Wherever I go,
People take notice of me,
Let them gawk,
At my massive beauty.
People that laugh,
Think they cause me dismay,
Too small to perceive,
The femininity I convey.
I am like a mountain,
Exuding simple grace,
Too vast and three dimensional,
To be considered commonplace.
I am a large woman,
With pride I stand tall,
I don't take up too much room,
This world's just too damn small.
Darkness engulfed me
I struggled to adjust to the shadows
blinked when my vision brought to light—
an empty room, rumpled sheets of an unmade bed
a tear-stained pillow where I'd laid my head
There was a wooden luster on the furniture
I sniffed the unmistakable church scent of candles
six long white tapers on two candelabra
My fingertips smoothed white satin beneath me
Thoughts began to drift, sifting through... what?
I was carrying the weight of an albatross
My back bent from the burden held too long
Something was wrong
A mewling of fear formed a question
that I dared not ask
In my ear, a whispered hisssss
"Go ahead and asssk it. It'sss commonplace."
A voice without a face—
disappeared without a trace
My submissive nerves feigning bravado
I tried to rise but curdled
There was a hurdle of some sort in my way
Eyelids too heavy to open
My arms reach to set me free
but I cannot move
No words escape on my tongue
I cursed the albatross that held me down
Away from me, I wanted it flung
I searched to find courage to ask
if I was facing death or a demon's call....
In my ear, a whispered hisssss
"Go ahead and asssk it. It'sss commonplace.
Asssk the question if you dare."
That voice without a face—
disappeared without a trace
I felt a kiss upon my cheek
from trembling lips that did not speak
That pungent scent of too many flowers
should've had me suffering a headache
Had I been resting here for hours?
"If this is not a dream
then tell me...." I beseeched
But the world was out of reach
Thoughts abandoned me
I tried to feel a pulse, a heartbeat—
There was another kiss
Tears on my cheek, but not my own
I froze at the sound of another hissss
It is not a fact
That the super moon arrived
after many years
And will again be seen
After so many years
It came just the other day
With a lot of tales to say
Whenever you come
As the colours come
In apple handsome
Whenever you come
As a yellow and red music
In the flute and drum
Whenever you come
Along with bees in hum
The super moon comes
And not the everyday moon
That we are used to, like our
Tobacco and eructation sour
Our brown pride and black power
No, not so commonplace an episode
Without nothing to decode
It is a super moon
When you come
As a glide trembling in a tune
Taking down the moon
It is not a fact too
That you will not come again
Very soon
May be next June
May be sooner or later
We cannot predict
When the bones and bloods will be lit
No computer to foresee
Nor there will be one
When the thunder will knock in a frisson
A lightning will flash across the horizon
Almost all on a sudden
One day we see a lovely cherry
on a deep red tree
Inside our cognitivity
There, there, upon the dunes
The moon changes
To a super moon
No more camels in a procession
In the shadows of isolation
Existential fragmentation
In the peace of night
The delighted super moon
May enter through your window
And sit beside your pillow
You may act Pablo Picasso
Neruda Pablo
Or blame it on Rio
Morning night or noon
You don't know when
But it does come
The super moon
Time does flirt
Overt or covert
According to your personality
Extro or introvert
Time does bloom
To flood our momentary rooms
With the exhilarating sensations
From the super moon
Whether a Trump
Or a dweller in a slum
All including she he and you
Can understand my view
'Cause the milieu
And the needle and thread
With which I sew this design
The visits of super moonshine
You have perceived it
You did meet it
In the recurrent current
Flooding your barren lands
Inside your chest
Your resplendent moments of crest
The super moon in our inward sky
My smiling shadow in your eyes
Our times intensify
As we both live and die
It is a succession of life and death
The desire dances underneath
------------------------------------------------
24/11/2016
A Parable of Love’s Spell
We danced and kissed passionately whilst feeling that frenzied,
flushed-rush of two people together now as one under love’s spell.
Love’s that mystical, magical emotion captivating every aspect
of our senses as we succumb to its aura of delicious enchantment!
Love’s power is a divine omnipotence which touches us tender
now as we walk this night watching the Moon smile back at us.
Love’s that moment when two people’s eyes search and discover
each other and their hearts know it’s much more than mere chance.
Try fate, try destiny, but knoweth that this special emotion is oft
beyond the pale of any ready explanation of the mere commonplace.
Love can be palpable, spiritual, promising, hopeful, bashful, and
even disappointing—but full of surprise and true wonderment too!
We savoreth our embrace as two lovers mesmerized in this moment,
whilst we fall deeply under love’s spell as the Moon smiles back at us!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved – March 28, 2017
(Couplet)