Best Comport Poems
Memory or dream from hell I cannot tell
The vision of stygian forests where harpies dwell
And men from them among men spawned
Greedy gullibles that on pagan mysteries fawned
Evicted from stygian caves to wander bared
Of human comport and yet in human shape
By cultures of war in Cerebus’ loath prepared
These monsters of men defy, steal, kill, rape
The African land still, and virgin virtue defiled
In all her children stolen, manacled, despised
Toss upon dread waves like dead meat, disguised
From pity of sharks, innocence, kindness biled
By the same fiends frantic at the Judean cross
And this colonial evil is unsurpassed in dross.
They should have known such deeds are wrong
If they had known we are people too, and he
The Eternal light, the bringer of the griot's song
How they murdered him in grim glee of prophecy:
When each of us are enslaved or kill, he dies
Again in that wickedness entrenched in vanities.
The old, relaxed; we pour ourselves a glass.
There is no need to stretch or change our way.
We know the flavors here; the only task:
ensuring it is just like yesterday.
Like sediment, this attitude does weigh;
we lie immobile, deign to be disturbed,
exchange bouquet for residual gray,
our appetite for joy, completely curbed,
our thoughts reserved to naught but that which is deserved.
Thus, when it comes along, we’re unprepared;
our skins are too inflexible to grow.
The thought of making room just leaves us scared,
so we eschew the new for what we know.
That which does not comport, we must forego,
and in this way, we struggle to survive;
our aging, brittle walls, like Jericho,
must be torn down to breathe, to come alive,
for we were meant to stretch, that we might truly thrive.
A leopard cannot shed its spots alone;
a dried out husk cannot make itself new.
The old man must be utter overthrown
before with new wine he can be imbued.
The old skin, by a Word, banished from view,
no longer to restrict and much annoy;
a transformation occurs through and through:
the old man dead, a child of God, a boy
who bubbles forth in endless, effervescent joy.
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Musings on Matthew 9:17
These are Spenserian Stanzas, 10A:10B:10A:10B:10B:10C:10B:10C:12C
You’ve got to have a certain knack
when opening your Silly Sack;
the beasts within will soon attack
with no hold barred, no turning back.
Now these are not the monstrous sort,
it’s just that they do not comport.
Of mischief, they are never short,
treat mayhem like it is a sport.
Prepare for giggles, snorts, and laughs,
guffaw at awkward giraffe gaffes,
where pigs with dirt soap take mud baths,
where self-signed cars give autographs.
Juno the dog is in there too;
you know what she likes best to do.
She’ll give horse rides, and when we’re through,
we’ll see our parents at the zoo!
So loose the drawstring, open wide;
heck, you might even jump inside!
A Silly Sack’s the place to hide -
with imagination as your guide!
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I wrote this as quatrains first, then remembered the contest and wrote it as limericks - frankly, I like the quatrains better...
The most beautiful thing
in this world to me,
is to see someone living holy
The way they talk,
the way they walk
I love how they comport themself
Their meekness,
their gentle way
Their firm resolve
to not get swayed
by temptations that are so commonplace
It's the beauty of holiness
on full display
Come, wrap your arms around it,
it could be yours today
The most beautiful thing
in this world to me,
is to see myself living holy
Meditating and praying
Giving comfort and staying
to help the poor and sick of heart
Charity and forgiving
Embracing love as the purest way of living
That's the message of holiness
The most beautiful dream
in this world to me,
is seeing everyone living holy
Coup d'oeil, you tried to comport
For your sake, I obscure my discomfort
As a man of refinement, I dismiss bizarre incitements
Yet the verity of my deeds I shall say in perspectives most iridescent
Compulsive are your manners, and impulsive your mouth
Which rattles and spews out dotty words that douts
You conceive me to be your heart's one true desire
When you pride in another, which sounds as good as dire
Nescient, as you always are, you're not aware
That I only see you as amusement, the only reason I cared
Because I am twice the mich as you perceive yourself to be
And yet you never sumise, surprisingly fooled, all lovesick on me
I guess I should tell you the truth, for just as much
Since you were a good friend, if you originally intended to be as such
I, your seatmate, am very, very miffed of you
And, truthfully, I know that most of us, most that you know, do too.
Coup d'oeil, you tried to comport
For your sake, I obscure my discomfort
As a man of refinement, I dismiss bizzare incitements
Yet the verity of my deeds I shall say in perspectives most iridescent
Compulsive are your manners, and impulsive your mouth
Which rattles and spews out dotty words that douts
You conceive me to be your heart's one true desire
When you pride in another, which sounds as good as dire
Nescient, as you always are, you're not aware
That I only see you as amusement, the only reason I cared
Because I am twice the mich as you perceive yourself to be
And yet you never sumise, surprisingly fooled, all lovesick on me
I guess I should tell you the truth, for just as much
Since you were a good friend, if you originally intended to be as such
I, your seatmate, am very, very miffed of you
And, truthfully, I know that most of us, most that you know, do too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reply to: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/my_seatmate_585288
Opening my eyes in the morning and
Taking a deep breath
It is another day, another sunrise
I am still alive, breathing and well!
The rays of the sun, peeps through my window
Bringing me a new day and a new hope
The brightness of the morning brings me comport and happiness and a feeling that everything will be alright.
Sunrise gives me hope and joy and it spreads its rays of light, not only on me but to the chirping birds and the whistling trees.
Ah! Life, another chance to be alive, waking up to another sunrise!
I want to forget all the troubles on my mind
I want to be grateful for the chance I have
Waking up to the sunrise and enjoying the day ahead
Then dawn approaches and the sadness tend to appear.
The worry on my mind starts to play its role
Dawn dampens my spirit and makes me sad,
Makes me think of all the worries I have
So I kneel down by my bed side, and I close my eyes.
I put my hands together and then I recite my prayer.
I pray for all around me and for myself for sure
I pray to wake up the next morning to see yet another sunrise
Sunrise to dawn, is just the cycle of life
We have to live each day and appreciate each moment
Good or bad, life goes on…..
An innocent soul appeared to them as someone who interfered,
But helping and caring were the only things that it ever volunteered.
It stood and gave them unconditional support,
Unbiased and happy , it was comport.
Instead of cherishing the good times ,
for them it suddenly turned into a tort.
Days passed and
Then, came the moment of truth,
They didn't care about the soul ,
And busted their cruelty upon it which was so bold.
Saying it was merely a delusion of being nice.
They decided to walk out leaving it behind,
Withered and bleeding with cries of its lost pride.
It was like getting unnecessary punishment for giving their silent lives , a
rhyme.
What could it do now ?
Isolate , kill itself or remain undisputed.
That day was when humanity lost.
That was the day when the limits were crossed.
It's hard to find people who live for others,
But in today's world who bothers.
They still sort for crowds of disguised happiness.
Purity of soul and love are now obsolete.
Because in this world no one is absolute.
In liquid castles, dense and warm
These princely equine fish do swarm
In peaceful beauty do they reign
Among the rainbows near to feign
A scarlet mood to chase the sea
Of dangers impotent to flee
Perhaps a golden tone would do
To spark a regal rendezvous
A dance of love in sweet comport
To decorate the azure court
Ensures a stunning dynasty
To grace this world for me to see
4/19/18
Contest; Seahorses
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Some entrants think I am overly officious, even mean
That’s all right with me, I know I can be rather picky,
So, here are some guidelines when submitting to me
If you follow them carefully, you’ll find me less prickly.
I am inclined to nix your entry to my poetry contest
If you have obviously not proofread your submission,
Finding repeated words, misspellings are my first test
Then complex words and phrases will try my disposition.
I do not think I am wrong to expect proper grammar
For poet/writers should be the experts in this field,
Good contest entries should be your finest endeavors
Appealing to strong principles I am unlikely to yield.
Subject verb agreement and not changing your tense
In the middle of your poem, carefully choosing a word
Most of all, make certain your poem makes good sense
I’m not inclined to appreciate the poetry of the absurd.
Be not dismayed, however; I have a feeling for effort
I understand the limitations of language, especially ESL
And, I appreciate a good poem that might not comport
Sooner or later your poems will receive notice, as well.
Remember, some exceptional poets will be submitting
So, you can expect their names to appear at the top
Since I have little patience with errors you’re permitting
I suppose I am setting myself up as a kind of poetry cop!
Written June 12, 2022
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY - LXXXI - 81
IF ever I had a country, a country without even a single Shredding Machine
And if ever I were elected/nominated/appointed by the powers that be SPEAKER of the Lower House of Parliament whose power to shine however were to be curtailed by the Upper House’s sheen
A country where all laws were enacted without much heed to the rhyme nor reason of the Bard’s Stratford-upon-Avon’s mellifluous flow of theme
Where every legal analyst: Professor of law Attorney-at-Law entertained his or her own opinion as to what the Laws of the State: relating to the Chief Executive, Rules and Regulations of Proceedings in or out of officialdom: libels, torts, crimes, misdemeanours or even what the Constitution may mean
And if ever any elected official or foreign dignitary were to be invited or chose to invite himself whether by rights or not to address the House and read from a
« tele-prompter » or printed text that was obviously Ghost-written, I’d shred the Speech with my front-teeth and unkempt nails and jump up and down with glee as though I were dancing the polka on the printed pages as they most certainly blatantly comport ideas, words and expressions of some heinous GHOST come to tease, torture, detract, confound, contradict and condemn all that is decent in the human being which is not mean
And all this, so be it, I swear before the populace I can never be GUILTY of breaking the LAW should I shred the words of some GHOST who lies, distorts, turns on head some or all the TRUTHS held to be sacred in my Nation’s History since no ghost may rightfully sue me (Sleep tight, Peach of a Teach !) for having even stolen a measly red, yellow or green pea, pod or bean
And this, even if I were to be put through the piranha jaws of the Republic’s Shredding-Immigration-Machine
Even if I never ever had no country worthy of being shredded and pulverized in the Wall of Black Holes’s grinding-machine
(c) T. Wignesan, Paris, February 8, 2020
I feel for the abused Chinese Korean Japanese..'
In twenty twenty, the vision was skewed altered
By some loaded news' as the bbc and itv and sky
Did the bidding, from on high.' They reported of much?
Mainly fear and death and as such.' they whipped into a frenzy
Did not comport sensibly, rather ran stories on a spitting
Causing a killing ' that claim though un-proven' fed through
The people like leven; most poision-ed.' So fellow humans
Suffered, against them curses were uttered.' Then violence
Unseemly unleashed.' Such a shame there was seen.'
I ask why such was the theme.? I hope much better is
Engendered, And should these media outlets be held?
Sequesterd.? There should be a redress.! I'm proposing
To combat false information, that should not be the least.'
Instead on truth may we feast.)
For He ministers, and will here govern precious?
(Yeshua) most welcome' He alone is the best!!
EVERLIGHT EVER PATH
YOUR SOUL TO KEEP
TRUST BEFORE YOU SEEK.
COMPORT IS YOUR GUIDE,
FRIENDS ACCEPT AND TRUST
POWER DIVINE,
PLEASURE PAIN,
LOOK UP,
FOR YOUR GAIN
AS YOU SUBMIT
YOUR WILL CAN ERASE.
WITNESS THE LOVE
YOU IN GRACE.
We Are The Fourth Estate
By Roy Merritt
We don’t want to give you facts
That’s not what we’re about
We only feature personalities
We want to hear them shout
We want to see aggravation
We want to hear their pain
We want to see ‘em at each others throat
Their nonsense so inane
We are the network news
The news we wish to state
That’s the media you deserve these days
We are the fourth estate
We want to have a show
A circus come to your home
We want to comport ourselves
Like the Romans did in Rome
Soon we’ll be wearing togas
with laurels about our head
We want you crushed beneath our feet
We want to see your dread
We are the network news
The news we wish to state
That’s the media you deserve these days
We are the fourth estate
We aren’t here to give you facts
We gave that up long ago
All we care about is the bottom line
We are about the dough
We want you in misery
You shaking in your boots
We want you bowing down
And gratefully give salutes
We are the network news
The news we wish to state
That’s the media you deserve these days
We are the fourth estate
We are now just talking heads
No news we wish to share
We only want to get our due
And ourselves become millionaires
Life on earth is bad enough
This ridiculous human show
We only want what we want
Enjoy ourselves and go
We are the network news
The news we wish to state
That’s the media you deserve these days
We are the fourth estate
News is not what you want
Not what you want to see
News these days is so passe
Fake reality is our tv
And now its come to pass
In every kind of way
Nonsense all over the tube
To consume most every day
We are the network news
The news we wish to state
That’s the media you deserve these days
We are the fourth estate
We are the fourth estate
We are the fourth estate
Did I not speak words of greatest import
While seeking your attention for the vote?
On my best behavior I surely did comport.
With unsavory characters I did not consort
Lest my reputation be found in the moat
Did I not speak words of greatest import?
I did my best to bring constituents comfort
Over your little ones I never failed to dote
On my best behavior I surely did comport,
When my opponent my words did contort
I held my tongue, trying hard not to quote
Did I not speak words of greatest import?
Legislative successes I was quick to report
I visited the tiniest villages, some remote
On my best behavior I surely did comport,
You turned me out with harshest retort
You even throttled my red, burning throat
Did I not speak words of greatest import?
On my best behavior I surely did comport.
written January 15, 2022
To Avalon! To Avalon! Twenty-six miles from door to door.
The Catalina Channel Isle: my destination off the shore.
We sail a wide and glassy sea, arriving Friday evening, late.
The Grand is seen from far away, guards the harbor, silent waits.
To stroll the boardwalk, drool as salted taffy’s pulled,
tour Zane Gray’s pueblo house, protect your lunch from diving gulls.
Catch a movie at the Grand’s mesmerizing, giant screen:
magical, this castle fort, not believed unless it’s seen.
Sleeping on the boat at night, rocked to sleep by gentle wakes,
row the dinghy in the morn, skindive for abalone steaks.
Journey back home Sunday night, late arrival into port.
Monday morning, foggy dreamland: school simply does not comport!
—————
(memories of childhood trips to Avalon Harbor on Catalina Island off the coast of California)