Best Congratulatory Poems
Nearing four hundred years
of living in captivity
Solar eclipse aspirations
has been my people’s enduring
ebony destiny
Almost four hundred years
of divided slavery:
chains seen and chains invisible
Hellish experience of double trouble
Self-congratulatory proclamations
of emancipated release
were accompanied by chains slapped on the brain,
having a tighter squeeze
We were taught
when our alabaster masters
raised the white flag,
we were to bend the knee
Surrender our wounded pride,
and serve the coin of the realm
Give the faces of authority
full submissive servitude,
hold not back labor of the sweat due
We were commanded to give total flag loyalty;
hand over heart obedience
to the strange god who conquered us,
and put our bodies in a cotton coffin field to grieve
We learned to love the sound
of the drag of the chains
It gave sonorous rise
to the voice of our slave dreams
After nearly four hundred years,
we still sing:
Lord, help us endure
the skin sting
and the humiliation pain
of our idol suffering
Let our parched lips
drink long of Exodus liberty
when the Son reign
In the year of release,
let the land be filled
with the sound of jubilee
Nearing the end of
four long generations of undying faith
We believe our bulrush tears
are gonna be Messiah-soothed wiped away
When we no longer hear
Massa shout “Boy” blues,
with his little bald eagle horn blowing
Scarlett O’Hara sour slavery notes
forever gone with the wind
And when we see the white flag lowering,
we shall rise
joyously at captivity’s end
Categories:
congratulatory, freedom, joy, pain, slavery,
Form:
Verse
Puzzle Pieces
by Odin Roark
How troublesome the process
This jigsaw puzzlement of completion
That piece of apology
Impatiently gnawing at conscience
Never uttered
Forever evading the moment
The congratulatory gesture
Ever studied for the right angle
The approach that would empower
Not merely pander to an ego
The closure unattended
Acceptance of grieving’s unfamiliar form
The not-yet-ready release from
Mistake’s stubbornly suffocating choke
Even saying I love you
Remains held in abeyance
Fearful of misjudged reaction
Forcing rejection once again
Yet…
Patience remains as always
Our least respected
And most willing protector
Might forbearance have but one goal?
The simplest move of all
Acceptance of the game
Oh how we question
Engagement of challenge
The forever-perplexing summons
The curves
Angles
Miscalculated chances
When life’s countdown only asks
We respect commitment
Without need for interlocking
For conquest
Or gain
That winning is non sequitur
To mortality’s premise
That always-alive existence
Provides tireless refinement
For the countless puzzle pieces
Yet to ponder
Categories:
congratulatory, life,
Form:
Free verse
There was a castle on a hill
It only took hours to build
Buckets and buckets of sand
Two pairs of children's hands
A vacant high spot on the beach
Just out of the low tides reach
Two kids, plastic shovels and pails
Construct a castle minus hammers and nails
The ground floor must be the driest
As water seeps down from the highest
A little shovelful here and there
Customized architectural repairs
A spectacular four story sight
The envy of Frank Lloyd Wright
Onlookers and passers by
Give congratulatory high fives
There's not much time to gloat
Changing tide is filling the moat
Once the water spills over the side
The sand will swim out with the tide
an original poem by Daniel Turner
Categories:
congratulatory, beach, creation, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
(1)
Congratulations on your wedding.
Prepare for the next staging.
Believe in your tomorrow,
wherever you are heading.
(2)
Best wishes for your marriage!
The World will bring you courage.
Take a step and find your place,
that helps you for your voyage.
Categories:
congratulatory, courage, family, future, happy,
Form:
Rubaiyat
“Mirrors are liars” said a goblin,
As he perched upon my neck,
“What you see is in reverse,
A deception disguised in two glass specks.”
I scoffed at the goblin who pretends himself real,
Did I do acid and not even know?
For a fantasy upon my shoulders kneels,
Revealing to me what I should show.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Reveal to me the lie in my eyeball.
“What you see is what you get,”
It spat with furious phlegm, foul and wet.
I scoffed at the mirror who pretends itself alive,
What did I do to deserve such sights?
No beauty in the Beast in my mind of hives,
Stinging tensed shoulders and eyes without light.
The goblin grinned at the glass made for reflection,
And they each agreed in congratulatory glee,
As I stood dumbstruck in confused introspection,
At a fantasized creature and inanimate object celebrate the sorrow in me.
Categories:
congratulatory, character, conflict, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
"Idling"
Cool cold froth
slides across their pages
they whirl their congratulatory comments
like pucks across ice crystal cut sharp and precise
waiting for return compliments
basting their words with oily accomplishment
slick and to strict recipe
baking like fat turkeys
with temperatures
mild and appetites easily
assuaged
How does a person come to this?
They think of words and throw them
to the wolves like sticks
for return
Wolves will take their words
strip all bones ragged of stories
bury them
and then silently,
without a backward glance
never return
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
“Their pooled emotions wouldn’t fill a teaspoon.”
“They sicken of the calm who know the storm.”
“That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone:
Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.”
Dot Parker
"What Fresh Hell is This?"
"xanny"/Billie Eilish
https://youtu.be/OYyyce8K_c0
"Purgatory is a Poem"/ LadyLabyrinth
Categories:
congratulatory, imagery, muse, psychological, symbolism,
Form:
Free verse
NS Poet
Don't whine like some liberal idiot savant
man on a mission that knows what he wants
CNN, Olberman such a boisterous bore
kick them in the teeth, pick Ivories from floor
chorus
I'm the NS poet having my say
resist and refuse the popular sway
no matter what the critics say
train whistle blows, I'm here to stay
not into self congratulatory depression
I'm a new voice, not stagnate also refreshing
Don't go around chanting silly incantations
that I learned from mind warping institutions
chorus
I'm an outlaw that does it his own way
refuse this divine comedy wasting away
holding my sanity without coming apart
no brevity, it all comes from the heart
chorus
I'm not into egotistical ranting
it is not enticing or enchanting
feels like I'm pawing through a wool blanket
setting my own political gambit
chorus
I Won't follow your particular line
won't subscribe to your pompous grand design
don't need your American tragedy
like some retarded Christianity
Categories:
congratulatory, vanity,
Form:
Lyric
We heard it over the radio
We heard it over the radio and I don’t know if it’s true
It was today at the gathering by the village square
The chief had just bought new batteries so everyone was there
The newsman sounded excited as he spelled out his story
He said a son of the soil is now the paramount chief of America
America, that land of the white man who once called us monkeys
And now I hear a monkey reigns over them
I recall it wasn’t April first so the chances were high
So high that the elders were summoned to look into the issue
For if the crown was for one of our soil then who were we to still toil
As the elders met we sat by the oracle and waited
Offering our obese goats and hailing our fore fathers
For now a born of their line had the world by its horn
When the elders emerged it was smiles instead of wrinkles
Mzee Ojok’s land was to house the village rice milling plant
The sons of Labeja would widen the village paths for tarmacking
Schoolteacher Okello would write the congratulatory letter
And remind him to start work as soon as possible
Fathers were to send virgin beauties for our new heroes’ bride
The choice of course would be his when he landed the iron bird
But for the first night, Chief Ocuc was giving up his own bed and wife
For whoever the gods choose, we their subjects must worship
Within one week all was set, new drums curved and songs proposed
Lands had been cleared and roads all trimmed
Mothers ceased weaving and busied grooming daughters
Eight years already and this son of Obama is not yet here
Yet today, the newsman said his reign is coming to an end
The elders believe its because the gods are angry with him.
Categories:
congratulatory, africa, black african american,
Form:
Epic
Encyclopaedia Of The World
While excavating information
One website lead to another
And Whoa! I found Poetry Soup
Curiosity led me to register my name
I sent my first shweet verse for a competition
I sent some more for further competitions
A fortnight later I received congratulatory notes
For my placement in the competition
It created a world where I could be identified
Tears rolled down at the recognition by poetry lovers
Living across this huge globe but brought together
By a website of soupers sipping every soup
While connoisseurs evaluate their taste
More congratulatory notes over the next four months
It taught me the value and worth of each souper
We read different hearts and souls
At times unknowingly in a desire for friendship
Some get irked some misunderstand whereas
Some simply love and admire the emotions
Of people living in different continents and
Give their advice, mentor them, correct their flaws and
Continue being their silent guiding light
Filaments of nature and attitudes to life
Become the encyclopaedias of the world in Poetry Soup
December 29, 2015
Contest: Why Are You Here At Poetry Soup
Sponsor: Jerry T. Curtis
Categories:
congratulatory, appreciation, blessing, identity,
Form:
Free verse
One day and one space bar later an irrational iguana put on a wetsuit and some roller skates and left the house. He met with his friends on the way who were waiting at the shop. They were bug eyed swamp who was a squalid squid who squirted herons for a living, the jackdaw juggler whose skills had won many awards worldwide, and the reedy red robust rooster whose crowing could be heard from the moon. They were all dressed in wet suits. They entered the shop and bought an array of drinks and snacks and body boards and surf boards. As well as goggles and flippers. Then they made their way down the sunset road towards the busy beach. Their arrival sparked interest from lounging semi clad pouting puffa fish whose bikinis left little to the imagination. "Later" said the iguana to his friends who were ogling the cakes on display. Then after lecherously looking the friends dashed into the waves. Up and down the waves they went. With such fine agility that passing dolphins sharks whales and fish clapped and sang approving and congratulatory songs of sea to them. When the sun began to set they returned to the beach. And drank their beverages and ate their snacks accompanied by all the semi clad cakes. They lit a fire and had a party. Then walked the semi clad cakes up the mountain pass to the home of meal worm mansion. There they all stayed. Staying sharpens sea setting standing striping striking stroking stuff. And a pile of towels jump around in glee. Rubbing their hands together. Wow. Such an story should be retold in an operatic style in a theatre. A va mi no lono ima ima de. Said the hallway table. Then it was time to sleep. Goodnight. Z at two to three marbles to twelve circulating crystalline plates. X iconographic Z Z AT
Categories:
congratulatory, art, assonance,
Form:
We’re shape-shifting, my roommates and I. Transitioning mentally from freshmen and sophomores (nobodies) into juniors (somebodies). We’ve been around, we’re not the new kids anymore. We’re being seen and appreciated. It’s a mindbang.
There was a coolike girl, Kathleen, who was a senior when I was a freshman. I had a mad, mad envy-crush on her. She was everything I wanted to *be* when I was scared and unsure about things. Kathleen was perfect., an example of success that, like a fulcrum, lifted our confidence.
When she was around, I’d watch her, discreetly. She had this unconscious habit of touching her chin, with her index finger, when she was thinking. I swear, I found myself copying her, until Leong saw me do it once and said “Kathleen!” I was embarrassed. You can’t get away with anything around here.
Kathleen graduated last year. I saw her once, in her graduation gown, from afar. I got emotional. Part of me wanted to rush over, give her a huge, congratulatory hug and tell her what a role model she’d been for me - even though we’d never even talked, but I was afraid she’d think I was a stalker.
.
.
Webster: Fulcrum: a support that lifts*
slang..
mindbang = a shifting in a well-established paradigm.
coolike = a really awesome person you admire
perfect. = (the period has to be there) an amazing, flawless role model
Categories:
congratulatory, feelings, growth, humor, school,
Form:
Free verse
Taint/
There was a time when I felt like wealth
all I needed under my belt,
like why the f*** do I care,
look at this Gucci I wear,
like a movie directed by Luci,
I’ve become less a begger and more choosy,
the center of my own world, and I unfurled,
all the time I spent,
where f*** I went, giving one hundred percent,
on earth between a ferment,
I’m trapped inside, right beside sin,
Divided by greed,
why did I agree,
to envy the clout, about how everyone else
has no brain cells, but their s*** sells,
Rebeltease/
Truth be told I came up from the gutter
(metaphorically speaking)
nah just being cheeky
but never smooth as butta
makes me shutter
I never been sneaky
I worked hard for my respect
and yea I can still flex
I just do it correct see
Taint/
I been hanging with rebel tease,
oh please, oh jeez,
I might just be your next trainee,
like teach me nothing original just a fictional idea
I mean something.
The reality is I’m a wannabe,
this rap game is a fantasy,
so everyone can chastise
me, so give me the clout,
fishing, hook out my mouth,
swimming, winning.
Rebtease/
At times it sucks to be me
but I can fully agree
with the fact that my respects
distract cause I see those stars in ya eyes
wanna be like me
Yea a trainee now,
a tease in the making ??
oh wow, please
but the clout
it ain’t cut out to
be what you see the critics
you can never appease geez
Here’s the true story...
ain’t no glory in my story
it’s a predatory
world out here none give
congratulatory telegrams
like you become an animal
watching ya territory
nah see ain’t no glory here!
but if ya want it come get it
Taint/
Laugh at my jokes,
I know it provokes,
to see me get rich,
which b**** gonna diss next,
I’m dying Hysterically,
because I’m not a ing charity,
remember I’m selfish,
quite devilish, who am I to Cherish,
when everything will perish
Rebeltease/
honestly consciously
times I wish I wasn’t so good
I say that modestly
hope ya wasn’t looking for a comradely
because to be real that straight comedy
but you right all will parish
when it comes ta the light but cherish what you can
find reason to fight don’t sell your soul
just know there’s no guarantees in life
Categories:
congratulatory, write, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
Those of us living in the USA
too often hear Republican capitalist dogma
of The Great Trickle Down Theory,
in which those who have most
must get more first
so they can hire more who have least,
although perhaps not with living wage
and preferably without health care if at all feasible,
to spread this centralizing wealth around
so we can become better day and night consumers
of all the thneeds and trinkets offered in exchange
for our enslaving rented lives.
And so it was with raised eyebrows
I heard Donald Trump explain
to us unwashed and un-self-insuring masses,
that he paid so very little income taxes
because it is his sacred duty
to himself
his family
and his stockholders
and incorporated co-investors
to pay as little tax and operating fees as legally possible
so there is more to hoard,
and less and less to trickle out.
So, I guess this carries some tension
with Trickle Down,
becoming, more accurately,
The Not-So-Great Trickling Out Theory
of richest capitalist hoarding.
But, just in case you are listening, Donald,
which I know you are not,
but maybe some more responsible Republican employer,
I am quite sure that Wharton never spoke this lie
that you have any legal, much less moral, obligation
to retain as much wealth as possible
to re-invest in further corporate greed
to act as little trickling out as possible
while speaking in loud nationalistic patriotic
Trickle Down and Out!
to all us little people,
sometime,
preferably after this year's self-congratulatory pay out,
made possible by all us humble caregivers
opening your doors for tips
and cleaning your several stressed toilets,
where only yellow and brown
too slowly trickle down.
Categories:
congratulatory, abuse, depression, earth day,
Form:
Political Verse
I KNOW SHE WOULD HAVE LOVED THIS LOVE SONG
As she slowly slips away I say
Now every love song I ever hear seems written especially for her and i
Not a lover bared, bedded or wedded
Nor those who shed their clothing as a sign of love and devotion
Hers was understood
Her brand of love is called “motherhood”
Not a love like I had for that young sixteen year old blonde I unburied in Brooklyn
The one whose shimmer reflected off the shiny steel beams of the Verrazano Bridge
Bathing Staten Island in a satiny soft sunshine
And sprinkling the news that the prettiest part of Brooklyn was now all mine
No not that kind of love
Nor the blonde thirty years later who stole the heart Brooklyn so long ago had broken
Whose words were spoken nakedly from behind a silken veil
And made what might have been the final time
feel like the first time I ever fell in love
No not that kind of love
Not the kind that came with every congratulatory conquest and every lamentable loss
For she was always there
Through the storm clouds and through the thunder
Through the heartache that results from a young man’s lust and mistrust which sets him asunder
Yet there was always a patiently waiting cradle
Wherein I would voice a sincere supplication for support
A structure strong enough to buttress another beauty’s betrayal and stiffen my spine when loss left me stooped over and lame
That kind of love goes by only one singular name
Beyond sacred, beyond spectacular, beyond the most sacrosanct kind of good
Such a sanctified love is named “motherhood”
And mine was always right there where a mother belongs
So that explains why now I hear her name in the center of all softly sung love songs
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE.....~free cee!~
P.S. Go ahead Mom, my angel, my sweet, fear not to fly
AND FLEW DID SHE WITH GRACE I'M SURE
Categories:
congratulatory, adventure, angst, betrayal, love,
Form:
Free verse
I yearn to be productive
In enchanted solitude
Left alone to pen the words
My freedom to include
A state of true contentment
A sense of self control
To experience tranquility
Reclaim what darkness stole
To allow myself unbiased ease
No negative belief
No depressive infiltration
No egregious furtive thief
To bask in silent glory
No care to be disturbed
My precious time I cherish
My inner thoughts unheard
A moment to seal confidence
A letter to compose
A congratulatory statement
As I laze in sweet repose
Forget the outsides influence
It's fearfless harsh attempt
To drag me from my comfort zone
Preserve my mind unkempt
Luxuriate and propagate
The determined seeds I'd sown
Through trials and tribulations
I've learned and I have grown
Categories:
congratulatory, anxiety, depression, feelings, health,
Form:
Rhyme