Best Confirms Poems
I want to place my final prayer
upon your plush velvet neck
murmuring my needs warmly
on that expressway where the crossroads of love and lust unite
focusing the steam of my soul there
confessing wholeheartedly
that my heart cannot move without you,
with my thick, steady hand rotating around your priceless grail
feeling the communion of our desire come to life
as your mouth becomes the chalice that holds my heartbeat
in this moment that confirms our sanctity -
J.A.B.
I might forget you for a little while
but when the last desert hues of sunset roses
wrap the bareness of these arms
Out of nowhere and without reason I think of you
Darkness falls and so my tears
but then the wind wafts its zephyr breeze
and exhales away my fears
My fears,the deepest of fears I ever fear
A pearlescent moon rises above an unshaped horizon
casting its opalescent glow upon my face
making me feel your warm embrace
Silver dust descends so softly
like your lips over my skin
It confirms you've returned back
from wherever you have been
Your return brings back the melody
as you love me unexpectedly
Oh my love come close ,Come lean on me
How you make the stars hush breathlessly
Once again you play your music
on the muffled strings of my heart
Once again the fluting sound of distant birds
fulfill two souls that can never truly part
Oh my love come close ,Come lean on me
How you make the stars hush breathlessly
Still,so still they keep our secrets
and would not reveal life's destiny
Tnks for the inspiration,not for the contest
(For those who wish to participate its the contest
-'How you make the stars hush')
you carve your words precisely
like a master does a flawless diamond
infuse your images on the head of a pin
not a letter wasted
you who
speaks from deeper within
with every new write
never one or one hundred reads suffices
each new recite reveals something new
grabs the readers heart
and we the better for it
you are the poet writes
like the brush of Van Gogh
his emotions vibrant in every stroke
every painting a work of genius
in your poetry
we find that pearl
hidden too deep for the diver
now opened and revealed
blinded by its light we see
what was once previously
invisible
now!
transparent
like the gentle prophet
you sew and lay a carpet
that sensitizes us
from the very bottom of our awareness
to the peak of our understanding
it is LOVE that enshrines your words
you!
the fabled unicorn
we
the fortunate
that by your cause
confirms
our childhood dreams
DO exist
september 29 2015
armand
In the beginning it is just a lovely cloud
Collin comes across her in the coffee house
One of his friends calls his attention
Look, your mom is here, let’s go elsewhere
A descent of birds pecking at his brain
The cloud he keeps looking at for quite a while
The face and the figure look like his
He goes to the toilet to look into the mirror
The semblance he sees is a puzzling wonder
The birds dance and sing in tumultuous chorus
His friend confounded when he is told
Collin does not know who his mother is
He had been adopted when he was just two
The lady too looks at them off and on
When a bridge comes up none can say
The next few hours he passes in a daze
Is the quest for four years going to succeed
Is the cloud preordained for the sudden rain
Or it is just a fortuitous resemblance
But then isn’t it an exactly mirror image
Returning home Collin scrutinizes himself again
In the mirror he finds the same chiseled face
The same desirous dreamy eyes, head full of hair
He recites poems and talks to himself
Same grace radiates from the daffodils
The plant with the flowers hangs in the air
The charm and the fragrance are irresistible
He craves to rush forward and hug it tight
And flood the flower with crimson kisses
The scented air stays elusive nonetheless
Collin says everything to his adopted parents
They are very glad and cooperate to get to the truth
There would be no problem in living all together
Collin laughs and says very forcefully
The twenty two years old son is no more an introvert
When the magnet works in the very stem cells
The eventual fusion is inevitable obviously
She takes him to her apartment
She lives alone her husband dead
No shadow of children nowhere in the rooms
Thousand wasps biting inside his head
The pain is traumatic for the hidden truth
Light and dark interchange day after day
Poems of love keep churning the two hearts
Drama outside and a flood within
The day DNA test confirms the gene
The two intermingle to a river serene
______________________________________________________________
August 8, 2016: For the Contest: Long Lost Family
Sponsored by Silent One
The plains people such as Lakota, Crow and Ojibwa
Spread throughout the Native American world
Who believe that the sickness is borne out of
The individual’s being out of harmony in life.
Witchery, sorcery, wizardry ways they heal it
Out of the three they prefer the witchery way
Corn pollen is said to be pure and immaculate
Sprinkling with corn pollen helps to cure disharmony
In fact corn pollen so powerful and trusted
That people carry it simply for good luck.
Navajo shamans confirms it as the most powerful
It’s a healing bridge between humans and spirits
+++++++
Date:5-11-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Sixth Place Win
Contest: Native American people by Shanity Rain
Being stuck in a traffic jam
I was shocked to see
A sticker in the window
of a car in front of me:
It held a lurid message
Of dark and deep despair;
Ex husband locked in the boot
Open it if you dare.
I laughed a bit, then paused for thought!
What if it really were true,
How do I know theres nothing there?
If I did, What would I do?
I decided I would follow her
Then take a peek inside'
After all you don’t post a note
Of what you wish to hide!
I opened the boot cautiously
And much to my surprise!
A jack-in-the-box sprung out
and hit me between the eyes.
I now know why the boots are up
In the car sales sites I pass:
It confirms no husbands are in them
Who’ve been poisoned shot or gassed.
Robert Cartwright-Davidson (RabCD)
silently I lie
awaiting I await thee
a wry smirk greets me
sighted precision confirms
sporadic crimson now speaks
The gath'ring dusk draws this fall day to term.
October crowned with warmth and radiant light.
The sun in arc across the sky confirms
that these fall days be passionate and bright.
Heroic are the colors autumn wears,
yet soon their rich-hued robe will fade away.
Then comes the sting of winter's icy airs.
We wish that frozen season could delay.
The gleanings of these golden days are rich.
A cache of gifts held in our hearts, sublime.
Nostalgia is the providence with which,
we warm our spirit during winter-time.
Hold fast, through dormant seasons, keen and cold.
Soon warmth will grace spring light to be extolled.
October's Crown
10-15-15
It might begin with the sweet songs of birds
when sunrise blooms its glow, seeming divine.
We view the month to see those written words;
“Spring now begins” confirms our current sign.
The resurrection from grim Winter sleep
will move full-swing while buds unveil to stir.
Soft colors of new willow greens will sweep-
blot Winter drudge while brighter views recur.
Fresh hope rebirths the life in every soul
when Springtime flowers crown the rolling fields.
While gushing brooks from melted snow unroll-
the feeling of new life within us yields.
This mystery of rebirth gifts our Spring;
gives promise in new life for everything!
The Little White Church
The little white church engulfed by the immensity
Of Western Hemlock, Red Cedar, and Douglas Fir
On Nootka Island in Nootka Sound
Confirms the remoteness of the Yuquot Village
On the west coast of Vancouver Island.
The green of the trees towering above and around
Glorifies the whitewashed wood of the chapel.
Surrounding the path leading to the entrance
Are coastal ferns leaning as if pointing the way,
Akin to a Westminster Abbey in the rainforest.
The windowless facade structure faces the ocean
As a defence against the wind’s many directional forces,
While crosses protected in the yard by a picket fence
Bear testimony to Christ’s presence
Among the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nations.
Above the door to the house of God,
A steeple rises with a cross on top
And a bell that tolls to call the “people of the deer”
Of Friendly Cove to gather, worship, and pray
In Jesus Christ’s name, Lord and Saviour.
***
Note:
“The Little White Church” is an ekphrastic poem describing the painting of a local church located on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada, by Canadian artist Emily Carr (1871–1945) entitled “Native Church” (1929).
Franky was seven and having a party
He told all his school-mates, except for Spud Carty
And once they had heard that Spud wasn't invited
All of them said they were really excited
And then at the party the kids all had fun
Which might have continued if Spud hadn't come
Spud didn't play games, he was not in the mood
He’d much rather stuff himself full of free food
He grabbed all the biscuits and scoffed the whole lot
And all the Bombay mix although it was hot
He snaffled the sarnies and some went down whole
Then grabbed the spaghetti piled up in a bowl
He gobbled so much that he struggled to chew
Then Franky cried out, that's not only for you
Spud simply laughed spitting food as he said
We all gotta eat... or else we'd be dead
And that was when poor Franky found himself wishing
His dad had stayed home and had not gone off fishing
Spud sucked spaghetti like slithering snakes
And said when I'm done, gonna find me some cakes
But Franky looked sick and he started to squirm
That sgetti looks just like a wriggly worm
And Spud got annoyed when he heard someone giggle
Don't be so stoopid, spaghetti can't wriggle
Spud swallowed more, that spaghetti was yummy
He said with a grin as he patted his tummy
You lot he shouted must really be thick
To get the food first you'd have to be quick
The front door swung open, there stood Franky's dad
He looked a bit angry, in fact he looked mad
I’m meant to be fishing but I'm running late
I got to the lake but forgot all my bait
I've checked out the shed and I've looked all around
Wherever I look there's no bait to be found
Was it indoors his son Franky enquired
So it would be handy when it was required
Right there on the table his father confirms
An old plastic dish, full of wriggly worms
And that was when Spud's belly started to grumble
And everyone heard his guts starting to rumble
Spud almost flew to the lavatory
What happened next was a horror story
And when throwing up seemed much less of a danger
He left with kids calling out, Don't be a stranger!
We created a dream…
A collage of triumphs hoisted high,
We spun a misty halo
And left
brisk utterances hidden inside
our pensive sigh
They redrew
a nexus of sun and doom colluding
with inexplicable shadows
For our freedom to be whisked away,
To await
a freshly arching course
This freedom sows nothing
but
an estranged black hole returned to life…
and borne anew
Unfelt and wielding a people’s wish,
turned to ash
Confirms
a grinding and sapping strife for all,
bar the few…
A covenant trampled
and delivered as doubt
It’s meant to flow unhindered
but ours is sated
Resting to regain its lost breath
amid whispers and tears
Regains its image to emerge
as a fallow truce
A seething trust before
real freedom brews
Words lie broken and promises creased
Winter smog mixed with liberated fatigue
A cocktail of sweat and pressured peace
Leaning on a state of grime
imbued
with loosened tricks
The Humble Pen (by Steven Cooke)
What dreams we have,
We share with the pen.
What love we find,
We share with the pen.
What happiness we find,
We share with the pen.
When our soul bleeds,
We find solace in the pen.
When our hearts are broken,
We find comfort in the pen.
When all hope is lost,
We find salvation in the pen.
And when we leave this mortal coil.
We will leave the pen,
for our Children to pick up.
For the pen, is a rainbow,
For our dreams, hopes and fears.
Where the heart and soul has a voice.
Where love resides for your fellow man,
And where beauty is found everywhere.
It confirms our existence, our beliefs.
And though our lives are brief.
It is a noble quest,
A gift of love to the world,
And a seed of hope,
So Let the children plant and nurture this hope
And they too will see the rainbow
Let this legacy nourish their lives
With love and beauty,
And let the humble pen go on,
To find the next voice,
The next chapter on this wonderful planet.
We Call earth.
So breathless, weak, confined to bed
Taut, sallow skin, eyes sunk in head
To these sad days, her life has led...
Death, where are you.
Forsaken now, at her life's end
On future hopes, cannot depend
Dear God, release our dying friend...
Death, where are you.
Her destiny has been cut short
There are no plans of last resort
To hold her hand, our sole support...
Death, where are you.
Emotions now bring us to tears
This final stage confirms our fears
Please take her, God, to your frontiers...
Death, where are you.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Rhyme and Refrain
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 05/14/2018
Required Words to Use:
emotions breathless forsaken destiny
Based on the current, true story about
one of our older daughter's best friends,
as well as one of ours, 56 years old,
in the last stages of lung cancer.
Note: Today, May 1, 2018, around 2:10 pm, our dear friend passed.
God heard our prayers...
You have set for us a path that can always run straight,
a path of life to love to choose restore and create
This path of life confirms a truly unique freedom at hand,
sun shining bright explores the path far across the land.
Impressive light that opens many eyes so they can see,
how bright and warm the blessings are this path of life is free.
Some people claim their rich some claim to be really poor,
through love and inspiration this path of life holds more
Enjoy each awakening day through faith in immaculate conception,
What incredible resounding effects God's word over minds perception
A life of love and goodness giving to replenish some lost soul,
It is up to you to choose God's path for life will be more in control.