Best Conical Poems
BEFORE THE TECHNOLOGY TOOK OVER.
How beautiful were those days
When tech had not touched us
To spoil our minds and hearts
When life was simple and plain
And ambitions too were not very rosy.
When poetry music and art
Use to inspire us to touch the sky
On the wings of our imagination
As then our dreams too were simple
And love use to empower our hearts
To swim across any deep ocean
While singing the songs of love.
When television had not snatched
Our leisure hours from everyone of us
And we use to dance and sing
On the call of heart touching tunes.
When mobiles had not spoiled our minds
While snatching from us,
Our peace of mind
When computers were a remote cry
And internet had not ruined the purity of minds.
When as children we use to enjoy the life
While playing the Gend Tadi* (throw balls)
Or even the Gilli Danda*
As they all use to fill us with a serene joy
Which the new technology has snatched
From our kids and younger generations.
How beautiful were those days
When we use to enjoy the company
Of human minds and hearts
Unlike the numerous appliances
Which we keep close to our hearts
instead of love, music and friendship.
The new generation would never know
The beauty of those precious joyous moments
Which used to embrace our hearts
And were the result of love and affection
Which always come from non tech things.
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpir India 29th Oct. 2016
Inspired poem from a Photo published by Julia Ward on face book.
* Indian village simple games which are played with the help of a rubber ball and two wooden made Gilli two side conical small rod and Danda ( a little bigger rod).
Before there was a world or a word
there was unfathomable loneliness
in the gaseous expanse of pin pricked night
an infinite course of vibrations, sound
nascent, coalescing, gestating,
until planets ripening birthed with souls.
There was only the orb, the throbbing soul
and an unknown longing for word,
conduits formed synapses gestating
to wavelengths of crystalline loneliness,
the aching white noise, static, lack of sound,
and the wanderers of celestial night.
Man was born to such a daunting midnight
aqueous eyes and conical ears for soul
to shattering din’s discordant sound,
no bird song, no harmony, no words,
just an aging, aching, aloneness,
of random thoughts thus wordless gestating.
A rhythm of circular gestation
formed the day and lingering became night
and thus weakened, warmed the loneliness
with woman kind He brought her soul.
Ether resounded with sheet lightening, words
for those sounds were to souls, the God sound.
Strong, silibant streams of understood sound
released from the oval egg of gestation
songs formed as man combined the God like words
croonings of passion fill the nubile night
as joinings rolled-tidal of mated souls.
Word all powerful had freed loneliness.
Each creature gifted an end to loneliness
earth, water, fire ,wind, all given sound,
all graced beloved with shimmering souls,
hatched from the dragon’s egg, life gestates
into the bountiful passage of night.
Cherish the ever present presence of the Word.
No longer alone, a sound vibrating within
each atom relates to the soul, gestation continues
in the night's never-ending cycle of the Word's life.
*My PASSION is SONG
* Many lines have internal RHYME as well as
the end rhyme achieved by the use of the same words.
*Dedicated to inspiration achieved
through the writings of L'Nass Shango & David Smalling
Tufted white-tops
on pale beige staggered-stalks,
the coneflowers crowns
dressed the perennial bed;
leaning precariously against
the conical mushroomesque birdbath.
Snow, soft and wet wrapped the grape arbor like ermine;
making trellises reminiscent of Kanji on a blank page.
Fragile, frozen, flowers hung decoratively,
from frail clematis twined about cedar posts.
Brittle brown maple leaves, left behind by autumn;
drag branches draped,
as in bridal lace to the frosted tarp;
defying winter to do what fall could not.
Conifers cried under the weighty white down.
Their limbs straining not to crack, surrender,
snapping to attention as the day warms.
The snow plops pleasantly to the ground.
Winter waits patiently as the garden dreams.
I greet the mild sun,
as it ascends among peach and lilac hues.
Its golden rays caress pearly dewdrops,
resting upon my verdant leaves.
My conical purple and pink petals stand tall
against dawn's breeze, as I gently sway,
dancing to nature's timeless rhythm.
I can hear the sweet call of the Chickadees,
as cheeky chipmunks raid brimming bird feeders.
Some claim I am controversial and invasive,
but I am a beacon of resilience -
a haven for bees and butterflies.
Try to get out of bed early, try to make your bed. Inhale.
Your off-white bedsheets haven’t been washed in a month.
Try purchasing a new detergent, one of those that’s petal-scented:
2 in 1 Aroma Boost Spring Daydream Wash.
Try smiling in the mirror; especially
If you have dimples. They’re the new “it” thing.
Inhale. Do yoga.
Do yoga and dance. Catch your breath.
Go on YouTube and search up Boho Beautiful, pretend
you’re a clean-girl white-flare has-it-together pilates almond mom.
Make a protein powder banana-peanutbutter shake. Ignore its soil taste.
Inhale and purchase some lululemon leggings.
Write out your feelings. Inhale. Lie to your journal about
the ache hosted in your ribs.
Call it your “self-reflective daily diary,” where you
Write about a fond memory, your [insert therapy term] place, pretend
your year-long headache isn’t pumping your eyes out anymore.
Write about your childhood. Write about the dog you never had.
Act like you finally know what’s caused your hollow.
Travel. Book your Ryanair all-exclusive roundtrip to
Hanoi. Book a tourist bus. Go on a zip line.
There, you will find yourself, and when that stranger
Puts a conical hat on your head
You will thank them for healing you.
You will return, completely changed, smelling
Like hibiscus flowers. Inhale and call your friends.
They’d love to hear from you. Just not
during your 5 AM seeping into icy bathroom floor tiles,
or the third day in which you’ve needed to take extra sleeping pills
that made the window light look hazy.
Call them. Just make sure it isn’t during their own
self-reflective cinnamon candle eating ritual.
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Inhale. There’s still time to save yourself.
The Chocolate Hills of Bohol
Ancient as creation, true natural wonders,
the Chocolate Hills of Bohol
teem with singularly exotic flora and fauna,
fanciful ferns and big-eyed tarsiers, peculiar primates.
Abundant rain wonderfully adorns them
with a mantle of verdant fashion;
while drought unveils their beautiful brown cloaks,
resembling giant delicious chocolate kisses,
or sun-baked peanut butter cookies.
At dawn, they're subdued by shades of grey and blue;
but at dusk, they startle with red-orange hues.
The Chocolate Hills serenely slumber,
heavy eyelids closed in peaceful repose.
They’re fast asleep and deeply daydreaming,
perhaps, of becoming rugged rocky mountains.
Finger to lips – shhh – let sleeping hills lie!
Hands cover ears - these conical mounds
are so clever at keeping hidden secrets.
Silent observers, they echo no tales, but
hold on to footprints in the limestone soil,
discretely recording every visitor,
not forgetting anything - remembering all.
8-24-2014
Contest: Poems about Places
Sponsor: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Placement: 4th
Treasured land splendor and glory
Pearl of the Orient Seas
Soldiers of known most emotional people
Loving and hospitable in patriot's blood line
The secret of velvet Three Stars and a Sun.
Fortified highest kind of water
Hallowed island of more than
Seven thousand and one hundred seven
Proudly her alone no other can hold.
Through her God given treasures
The Rice Terraces of Banaue
Created more than 3000 years ago
Formed and sculpted with bare hands
My Ifugao ancestors
Giver of my calm sound of survival
Food for my body and soul
The best and will proudly shout my own.
The Tubbataha Reef
One of the largest virgin reef you'd dive
Over diversity of colorful sea creature
You'd see the heaven underwater.
The majestic Underground River,
As a seabirds sanctuary you'd be speechless
A UNESCO world heritage site.
Palawan's gift to its people.
The chocolate hills of glorious Bohol
Conical hills of limestone
Fragments of earth's unexplained laws
Home to the smallest monkey, the Tarsier,
The subtle Mayon volcano of Albay
Most perfect conic one in the world
Proudly my motherlands finest
Her glory on the face of beloved earth
Bathe your soul with the heaven by the sea
My best beach, one of the worlds brightest
The Boracay of Panay, best you won't regret
A soul's portrait of the skyline and sea.
Intellect, wisdom, skills and faith
Sun, earth, stars and sky of blue.
Falls, lakes, seas, and trenches
Bestowed by my loving motherland.
Visit and you'll see more the best
Treasured land of splendour and glory
Of my Three Stars and a Sun.
Proudly my Pearl of the Orient Seas.
Zinnia Grandiflora a golden beauty
Yellow Prairie Coneflower conical cutie
Xerophilous plants designed to survive
Waterlily attached to bottom soil to stay alive
Venus Fly Trap grows wild in marshes
Ulmus grows wild along with birches
Texas Bluebonnet cover fields with hyacinth like joy
Shasta Daisy white and yellow who could ask for more
Rocket Larkspur projecting a backwards spur
Queen Anne's Lace root add to pot and stir
Purple Coneflower helps strengthen the immune system
Oriental Poppies held captive by morn's dew glisten
Nasturtium are symbols of conquest or of charity
Maximilian"s Sunflower withstands weather's serverity
Lemon Balm Mint lovely the citrus scent
Kalmia Carolina reaches to mountain ascent
Johnny Jump-Up a delightful surprise
Indian Blanket Flower a short lived prize
Hollyhock short-lived six to eight foot beauties
Globe Gilia blue clover-like cuties
Foxglove's foxy tubular but poisonous flowers
Evening Primrose has been used for food and medicinal powers
Desert-Marigold a blessing and curse
Chocolate Cosmos fills the air wth scents to nurse
Black-Eyed Susan Rudbeckia a delightful fall addition
Annual Baby's Breath to end a southern garden tradition
Inspired by John Lawless' contest First Ever ZYX Contest
Written: October 10, 2015
A mixture of wildflowers and other flowers and ideas..
Purple conical blooms lure bumblebee
Foxglove trumpet flowers scent that please
Vegetable garden doesn't make smiles for me
Weeping Willow with grace lures so artsy
Under which lies Butterfly Bush which tease
Purple conical blooms lure bumblebee
But in the vegetable garden foresee
Sweat, toil in heat but food that heals disease
Vegetable garden doesn't make smiles for me
On trellis adjacent pale pink rose see
Just a dewdrop, but not on Butterfly Bush with base
Purple Conical blooms that lure bumblebee
In the vegetable garden no Sweet Pea
More flowers for me and food plants decrease
Vegetable garden doesn't make smiles for me
All I see toil, sweat no trip to the sea
Please do not let the flower garden cease
Let purple conical blooms lure bumblebee
Vegetable garden doesn't make smiles for me
Contest:"Villanelle Me"
Sponsor:Catie Lindsay
~The Evil Fairy And the Vengeful Leprechaun~
Late at Night while the chickadees go quiver
A fairy of the forest has fastened to her heart
A bog-reed arrow, white wash dipped in flint
She dances yes she dances, in a conical red cap
Tithing the sundown, to a leprechauns demise;
Not a stranger to mischief, she steels his golden pot
She stitches up his wishes, and spikes his felted hat
She glues his silver buckles up his nose in, far remote
She sticks him on a clover, stewing mad n’ boiling hot
By; Mystic Rose
Early Morning, under the fogs rainbow, twisting and twisting his nose
Little does she know, Lepree's a madman with his own games
Sitting and brewing with a grin, he awaits the chemicals to kick in
A price to pay for stealing Lepree's gold, in such a golden way
He yells and cries, "I hope you dance, rapid like the river away!"
Fairies don't exist! Fairies don't exist! -----A quiver in the chest
For we all know when speaking them words, somewhere out there
A fairy dies, ----shillings from his silver tongue he spoke
A million times Lepree cried "Fairy don't exist!" suddenly--she drops;
By; Poet Destroyer
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Wild garlic flowers encompassed
her youthful, porcelaneous
neck as she slumbered in her bed.
Two silver crucifix bracelets
securely fastened to both wrists.
Her rhythmic inspirations heaved
the cleavage between her breasts
that deepened on exhalation.
He stood at the foot of the bed
red eyes peering from dark sockets
on a deathly pale, bat-like face.
A sneer revealed behind blood-red
lips two sharp conical canines
that were rendered useless this night.
Happy Halloween!
My Little Sparrow
Oh Little Sparrow
How come you here?
Your rufous neck
Seems so cute
And your white little cheeks
Are too small to hold a seed
And a bushy black bil
With conical structure
Seems so great
As its a visual treat..
Why don't you go to the grasslands?
And all the deserts and the woodlands?
Do you want to live with me?
Oh Little Sparrow
Come to me...
ABC-Always Be Careful
Cause the dreadful cats,
Hungry Hawks
Came here in search of you...
Where is your clump?
You better go back..
Oh Little Sparrow
Bid You Goodbye.....
Dragon drive
Under the pillow is a fantasy land,
A land ruled by a magic wand,
Everything seen is never like before,
Joyous breeze, all pervading azure sky,
Exclusive floor, Grecian design crafted on a leather surface,
Scales with uneven contours,
Back view tapers with conical protruding shapes,
Frontal goes as high upto the fire flame,
Some jerky movements-fire out,then smoke
GHOSH! Why am I here?
Seems like an onset of earthquake,
Both sides stretch wide and wide,
I roll on the expanding surface,
To see myself on the head of a dragon,
Things happen so fast ,no time for fear
And instantly by its reflexes,
Makes me feel wanted and secure,
More than docile, it seems angelic
Conveys a motherly warmth and care,
Komodo dragon,may be senior of the reptile family,
Very unlike the iconic animals-
Belligerant,ferocious,despicable,
Brimming with sunny flames.
Do I have to choose….
A place of fun ,wonder,safety,
Joy,kindness,support,stress free,
So tempting….
And down there ,deep down,
The world is dull,dreary,weary,
Violent,greedy,jealous,stress prone,
So pathetic……
Where should I go,
I want to make a difference,
Minimize evil through my resources,
I can make a difference, for the better
I have to go, there is so much to do,
I have to give my share,
I want to go, I want to go……
Is that mom,..Amy baby,wake up
Where do you wanna go?
Rizwana Bhurani.
21-10-2015
Aye, what a revolution in red and orange against the
venom of society and culture
With the flowers of right palm though a gesture of dance
in fact covers her tears
A story of blue tension and deep emotion in red flamenco
so flamboyantly executes the dancer
The crimson movement of the lyrical arms and torso
in sync with the guitar is awesome
Unique euphoria of exuberance in the swirl of a female figure
so provocative
What a dancing dream doing up the drawings of
the body on the fly
What a message of moons in mounds you convey
through the crafty curves
And each passing passion pulsates from prose to
poetry of muscles and bones
Eros encouraging us to transcend ourselves through
the journey of desire like a fountain
From brownish black towards the orange flames
on the comely conical mountains
And the warmly amber valley as it mingles with the
flames from the dancing spark
Blackens darkens and then harkens at joyous response
of mesmerized connoisseurs
Deepens the dense dance still further by generating
romantic proposition in her gestures
Unstoppable time hypnotized to stop for a moment to
stand and see how infinity can dance
Time itself in much ado on the long neck of
reddening movement
Aye, you dancing fire spreading your oranges everywhere
from Andalusia to Madrid
And then all over the globe amazing you me and all
in modern style of elegant gestures
Sliding the shoulder blades down the back and thus
the chest held proudly
Inviting inquisitive attention to read the poems
up to the chin and down the tall back
Closing the eye for a few seconds we see in awe our fertile
dear earth in a dance of rebellion
The earthy and raw in a fascinating gesture of life
we do need to feel so much
That while in the midst of viewing what you interpret
we too get merged in the dancing colour
Aha! What a phenomenon
____________________________________________________
September 23, 2017
For the contest:Poems that paint a picture 3
Hosted by: Silent One
The Liquor Bottle
Conical at the top beautiful sides offers it support
Like a forest of oak trees in a bar, beautiful patterns they create
The shining reflective glass reveals the attracting liquid content
Salivating onlookers surround the container, ready to pounce on it
Like hungry man eaters, the opening pop sound they eagerly wait
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
Sweet, smoothing and addictive taste it has, others may say
Your heart, liver, brain and whole body, useless it will make
Inviting cancer, creating hangovers and bad moods, that’s the part it will play
Heavy clinic bills and short lifespan, that’s the price you will pay,
But finally in a six by four and seven feet underground you will lay
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
In the young and able men of the society we can’t rely
In dirty waters, by roadside and in dangerous dens they lie
Family fights and broken marriages have become the main cry
Then your friend death knocks at your door very early
It’s under that green large tree, your remains we will burry
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
Future doctors, sportsmen and leaders, in alcohol they dance
Fathers, mothers and whole society, let’s stop this menace
By doing so, development, ability and intelligence we will enhance
Institutions will grow and have a society that runs
We dream of the best society, but do we see it at glance?
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
( By Ngugi Waweru)