Best Complete(A) Poems
Has a tear of joy ever escaped from the window of your soul? A moment of realization that fell out of your control? Have you grown up with someone who is way out of your league? One whose presence could effect the way you breathe? Is there something you believe that changed the way you see? Or have you ever fell in love with one that was expected to never be? Imagine a lover who speaks to God about you, one who sees a truth you don't think is there, what if this is how I see you when I say your name in prayer? Though our memories are few, somehow they feel more true, for time is non-existent when it comes to you. Your the most difficult poem I've always wanted to write because no words exist to express such love at every sight. I gaze into our history for a clue as to "why?", amidst a maze of a dozen conflicting stimuli, no language could explain yet you deserve for me to try, but all I can offer is a crude illustration of a truth beyond imagination... You've always felt like more than just a crush, like a reflection of my trust, like fate flirting with a dream only love could create. The way we conversate is the melody of my song, your hypnotic sense of humor splashes the colors of a pretty pinkish dawn, the way you beautify your personality stretches beyond. Those eyes an invitation to some unknown adventure, that smile begs the question I'd spend this life to answer, almost feels like the beginning of some kind of forever. Then something else crept into my heart as well, a chemistry evolving in a way only nature would tell, every grain of knowledge gathered like an oyster in its shell, until my love for you was no longer in control, a rare precious pearl embedded within my soul. WAIT! I have to stop, language has failed me again, but how was I suppose to hold all this in? At the risk of you never looking into my eyes again, I couldn't continue to pretend that your just a friend. What happened to me is I began to see you as we will be when our love is complete, a chemistry mixed with a mystery betwixt pretty and sweet, the heart utterly eclipsed by a beauty beyond any comprehension of art. Now that it's said that leaves just one more task, it's so out of character for me to ask: if a feeling of bliss deeper than any oceanic abyss could be forged without a first kiss, how many wonderful probabilities could we possibly miss?
Toward my golden years, I’m moving fast
As recollections cherished in my heart
Pass through my mind, those bright threads from my past,
Entwining with the present. It is art!
Such lovely images comprise this fine
Tapestry I’ve woven over time -
Reflecting past or present in each line;
Years coming will complete a life sublime.
from 8/1/2012
Used for Theme 2: Tapestry
Entered Nov. 7, 2021 in the '''T'' Contest, New or Old' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Come,
Let us chase the sun.
I know
It is better said than done,
To make life sappy and meaningful-
To keep time, word and money
Is vital.
The steady sun
With the broad smile all
In summer, winter
Bright and duty bound it is
Amid clouds
Black or blue
May be spring or fall.
See the flowers that bloom
The petals that unfold
The pollens that vitalise
The dew drops in morning do glisten
In time the animals so breed
On the dot does the cock too alarm.
To be a salmon I yearn
Leaving some heirs to glow the age
To give up life
In the scheduled place of origin.
As
Points all are as equal
To begin and complete a circle.
Jung said we have an unconscious feminine and male psyche,
It dwells inside and manifests in dreams and activities we do;
Now, I realize that I have a male side although I am a girl,
When I think about my husband he had an anima, a feminine side.
He dwells in his heavenly realm now, he is a name engraved,
But, in life he was my masculine shield, my protector, my strong hero;
He was the provider, he was full of wisdom and well spoken,
Yet, there was a side, soft and nurturing, emotional, he could cry.
He loved a bubble bath, cooking and satin sheets on the bed,
Adored the color purple and holding hands, he had a very gentle soul;
I could take him to romantic, girly movies and he liked them,
Yet, he and his buddies would cheer and crunch cans watching sports.
I always thought he was a contradiction but I guess not,
He just had a lot of anima, and that combination of soft and strong;
Was so appealing, which makes me think we must have both,
To be complete, a male side and a female side, dwelling in our psyche
______________________
April 28, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Soft and Strong
Copyright Protected, ID 16-783-611-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Staring, vapor locked, at my Hammond B-3 console organ, which dominates my
kitchen. Surely a symbol of my madness. I can't help, but think, if the keys were
the days of my life, and the black ones represented the bad days, are there
enough black keys?? Fighting petulance, self-pity...losing...
Wondering if I can stand another minute alone. Atop my organ, music books,
and the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, another mad poet.
Plagued by physical agonies that merely complete a perfect circle of anguish
and distress. Even to worrying of misspelling a word again. Pure lunacy.
Remembrance of my 1863 death at Missionary Ridge, something I became
aware of as a young child before I'd ever heard of reincarnation. Or just an early
sign of the madness to come??
I am lost in a befouling miasma of deep despair. My life's hopes down to 2
desires; one last music band, and taking my son to Disneyworld. Money is
meaningless to me.
I am well aware that death is as natural as life. And I would venture to guess
that the loss of my father, my young cousin Billy, my dear friend Mark Trotiner, and
too many others, are "Business As Usual" in this universe. But not for me.
Being terminally ill myself is something I have long since come to terms with.
And what a reunion it will be!! But I must continue to go on surviving as though I
cherish this long and barren life.
My writing, especially my poetry, my poet friends, my music, my musician
friends, and a few relatives and others; these are the meds that work for me; not
the 30 or so pills I must deal with everyday. So thank you all.
And now an addendum, one which brightened my day:
Mark Trotiner long maintained that he gave Mark Knoffler (Dire Straights) the
idea for his hit song "Money For Nothing", when Mark Knoffler came into the
appliance chain store he worked in way back then, where he bought, and drove
off with several T.V.s, singing the prototype words he'd gotten from Mark Trotiner.
Over the years, I tested him repeatedly, looking for the tale-tell deviation in the
story one finds in a false tale. He never faltered, he never failed.
Continued.....
The days are gone
And the place is dry
Nothin good was done
There's even no fly
Dreams were totally shattered
And silence filled the place
All wishes were scattered
Around the fool's face
They came in a sheep's mask
Pretending to be helpful
They only came to complete a task
And left no soul restful
Unfortunately they weren't aware of a living soul
It died and lived again, making their lives a foul
My youth is a puzzle, missing bits and pieces,
fragmented memories of family.
Piecemeal, faded
recollections.
I recall some brief moments spent in happiness,
and yet, a veil of fear shadows the rest.
I don't remember any suppressed stuff,
those blank gaps mark my memories as incomplete.
Can time complete a puzzle with
a jumble of missing pieces?
Dad lost pieces;
fighting a war.
Metaphors and similes flow freely from my pen
when I am scripting and scribing in poetic verse.
Across the width of pale parchment pages
the nib of my feathered pen continues to traverse.
Ink courses fathoms deep within me like life blood,
rushing through the eddied channels of my veins.
I struggle to ignore the cramping in my fingers.
There's no hesitation when writing echoing refrains
when I imprison myself in poetry.
Each stanza I carefully arrange in proper sequence
as if it's a bairn born for the creation of my story.
Sometimes my gypsy muse joins me in the dance
when I write with abandonment in wild allegory.
I never try to rein her in when we're both focused
and driven to complete a poem, oblivious of time.
With vivid imagination, romantic sonnets are birthed
as I sit penning line after line in consummate rhyme,
incarcerated at my desk until I've written the last line.
My thoughts tumble like flurries of pristine snowflakes.
With a single spark of romance my passion ignites
as each completed verse falls perfectly into place, it lifts
my need to write compositions of love to greater heights.
Day and night, I find myself a wanderer, lost in reveries
where I journey in a private kingdom of verbose amplitude.
Around each curve in the road is a new challenge to be met,
and yet, none thwart me when trysting in romantic interlude.
Rude would be the one who would disturb me
when I'm handcuffed to a work in progress.
I try to indite with some semblance, dare I call it skill or talent?
By no means am I an accomplished laureate by my admission.
As a mere poet, I do not strive to compose a magnum opus,
but a meaningful collection of verses as a worthy composition.
If by chance, my poetry is interpreted and appreciated by some
who view my emotional imagery with soulful eyes of admiration,
I will credit my gypsy muse with her conspiratorial whispers
and amorous experiences as the impetus for my inspiration.
I hold the key to unlock my self-inflicted prison door,
and used when at last my pen has been laid to rest.
A small kernel, a tiny seed,
drifts into a fertile mind,
floated by inspiring muse,
sometimes angry, sometimes kind.
In furrows richly watered
ideas imbed, softening;
anticipated, cracking shell,
swift burst at kernel's opening.
Pale greening shoots, sprouting branch,
vining leaves garner images,
sparkling similes, metaphors,
figurative language usage.
Minutes, hours, days may pass,
creative imagination increased;
the flower forms, then ripened fruit--
cycle complete, a poem released.
Copyright, August 10, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Hand in hand glued I walk with you
I am a waveless sea without you
I am a honeyless bee without you
I am a rootless tree without you
You are my fate a true soulmate
I am a feelingless kiss without you
I am a peaceless niche without you
I am a pondless fish without you
You are my love which you deserve
I am an aimless life without you
I am a ruthless knife without you
I am a pitiless strife without you
With you I hit dart bullseye every try
I am a wingless bird without you
I am a meaningless word without you
I am a shameless nerd without you
I admire your piose beauty so cutie
I am a handless clock without you
I am a prongless fork without you
I am a humourless joke without you
I enjoy each moment with you a brand new
I am a seedless fruit without you
I am a useless dilute without you
I am an endless dispute without you
With you I am complete a man concrete
I am a powerless king without you
I am a diamondless ring without you
I am a bloomless spring without you
Let us not apart any day that's I pray
I am a heartless body without you
I am a worthless roadie without you
I am a themeless melody without you
Love is still, love till date, forever innate
Again I would say, you are my fate a true soulmate...
Seems long ago - a distant time, at first when I saw you
My heart did leap within my chest; was love to spring anew?
I should have known, I couldn't see, enthralled I was with you
The guard that was upon my heart had lifted and withdrew
When from the start our passion flowed - so intimate were we
We'll stand a test of time and stay as close as two can be
Long walks beneath the twilight skies and joyous times we shared
We spoke of secrets buried deep and still our passion flared
Betrayal! sudden and complete - a knife has pierced my heart!
Your other "lover" on the phone?!? You Cheater!! It's time to part!!
Oh ache, oh heartache go away; sweet sleep, please come to me
These tears, these rolling tears must stop - I need to be set free!
How sad it is when love runs cold; Loves' flames die down and wane
The mind is filled with memories; the heart is wracked with pain
Too long I've felt this emptiness in finding you untrue
And though I'm filled with sadness now - I'll cry no more for you
Today I picked the garden fruit,
To make complete a tasty meal;
And came across an aphid brute.
Today I picked the garden fruit,
Beside my house of holes and root;
To emphasis my scalloped veal.
Today I picked the garden fruit;
To make complete a tasty meal.
I cleared the vines of ripened crop,
Then freed my back from painful stoop;
And took inside to finely chop.
I cleared the vines of ripened crop,
To later make some veggie soup;
And then I’ll go to bed and drop.
I cleared the vines of ripened crop;
Then freed my back from painful stoop.
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
First Place Winner ~ "Triolet" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Giorgio Veneto
Sept. 4, 2013
One word is not enough to complete a sentence;
there must be more words defining wholeness;
one voice by itself is too weak to make an effect;
if that voice mingles with others, it has a stronger tone.
One man protesting unfairness is completely ignored;
the audacity of fearless men make them listen and comply.
Worthy ideals that can transform minds are never considered,
only brought to a pitiful ending; all free spirits must react.
One individual standing alone, facing the wrath of opponents
is incapable of bringing evil to justice; more unity is required.
Written on 7/24/ 2016
I hate society, I hate society
I hate society for a lot of REASON
Am in a society where society has no VISION
They only have a trend and if you don’t follow that trend
Then You Are MISSING
And it’s a CONTRADICTION
I hate society but this same society I am LIVING
So when ever am around people in the society I don’t feel like BREATHING
Cus when I do, I will probably have all the trash in me due to the process of INHALING
I know by now you want to ask
What is this trash that society has?
But before I continue
Let me define society
“It is the aggregate of people living together in a more or less ordered COMMUNITY”
Which one may say, society is suppose to bring about UNITY
But what do we see?
Society looking down on TEENAGE PARENTS and SCHOOL DROPOUTS
This same society campaigning and preaching against Abortion
Voicing out loud, ABORTION KILLS!!!!!
What if that teenage girl took some ABORTION PILLS?
Will society get the chance to criticize her for her mistake?
NO!
Am not saying that abortion is good but society aint acting cool
Now back to the school dropout
Have you ever bothered to ask that young boy what drop him out of SCHOOL?
NO!
But why do you jump into conclusion by calling him a FOOL
What if that boy did what you did as a kid but never got caught?
Society is throwing dust into our eyes but expecting us to see CLEAR
We all have DREAMS,VISION and INTUITION
But we can get to our target due to society LIMITATION
And they say!
You are no body if you don’t complete a higher INSTITUTION
Society puts you on a Mission but don’t care about your FINISH
Society is the blame but the people is the majority of it
Where adults are COLD so the kids cant be BOLD
They mask their words so the truth is UNTOLD
I think society is the reason our forefathers got SOLD
But lets put that aside
Why can’t someone be different?
Why can’t someone be themselves without been mocked at or look down on
Society is a MASKBALL
Society is a Maskball, where we hide our real character and reveals it by hiding
But all I came to tell you is
Don’t let society be on your WAY
But rather be on society’s WAY
Cus’ after all it doesn’t depend on society
It depends on YOU
But until then, I HATE SOCIETY!!!!
The distant brass haystacks tune on shorn ground.
Vanilla fence posts chime in saffron sun.
Adjacent jonquils trumpet lemon sound
as amber goldenrod and china mums
in stil de grain complete a trio 'round
high jasmine shrubs, which in the octaves run
aureolin to beige. Nearby is found
a vegetable garden where blond onions,
squash and carrots in harmony abound
with notes of maize and amber. Faun melons
grace a clef of trellis where ecru-crowned
warblers and the sunglow-breasted Hutton's
Vireo twitter in tune with corn-downed,
bumblebees and drone: summer has begun.