Best Constructing Poems
Mentors like priests preparing me for holy rite
Institutional slaves to a false trinity
Subduing adventure, exploration and discovery to classroom rigor
Eternal stairway ... moonbeams to the golden dream
Dismatling who I am so I become who you want me to be
Urges denied constructing scaffolds, setting beam
Castling on beam, I climb like Jack the ogre tree
Ability acquiring arrows for what's embattling me
Tensions beyond the classroom, teacher grading my
Intelligence as if it were a canvas to her eye
Opportunity has too narrow a door for all our differences
Nestled in her pocket, I see the ogre search in vain.
Offering us like children to the fires of Molech
Frantic prayers sibilant in flickering tongues of despair
Teeming the locus of the African nightmare
Husked of gold, silver, uranium, copper and diamond skies
Each one scrambles up the vine compassless of self
Nations fall - without the eyes of love we are blind
Emerging people shaken out in global disarray
Groaning for nothing from classroom to classroom
Refer to their budgets and see what is prioritize
Oysters get their pearls from pain, I know, yet
Errors must be corrected, education must mean more, we
Substance truth only by the purge of a regulated history.
Categories:
constructing, black-african amereducation, me,
Form:
Acrostic
Noah heard the forecast and realised he must build an ark
It had to be impermeable for when they finally disembark.
They faced forty days and forty nights of torrential precipitation
Thank goodness Noah was constructing the ark for this situation
To invigorate Noah he could see the storm clouds were gathering
He knew that they must work quickly or they would get a battering
The requisite was it must be huge to hold animals and his family
When animals boarded two by two, it was a spectacular sight to see
When they reached dry land they were met with falling snow
Snow is formed by crystallization in case you didn’t know!
Water is essential to our daily life, we need it for our hydration
It is sent to us from heaven above – thank God for precipitation!
04~04~16
N/A in original contest - submitted to Screwed XIII sponsored by Rob Carmack
1 original, poem on the theme of THE ELEMENT OF WATER! The only limitations for this contest is that you must include these 6 words in your poem: 1) HYDRATION (2) REQUISITE (3) PRECIPITATION (4) IMPERMEABLE (5) INVIGORATE (6) CRYSTALLIZATION.
Categories:
constructing, bible, fun, humorous, rain,
Form:
Couplet
Sweet petrichor, you rise like a phoenix
from the moist lush green vegetation,
filling my nostrils with your earthy essence.
Tell me, is it any wonder that the sky cries?
Peering down at the earth’s destruction she sobs bitterly.
Her torrent of tears causes rivers to burst their banks,
houses built on flood plains are in peril from a deluge of water.
It is the greed of man who ruins our earth
Changing the natural course of rivers,
constructing houses in areas of coastal erosion,
destroying our rain forests for filthy lucre.
Is it any wonder that the sky cries?
Peering down at the earth’s destruction she sobs bitterly.
Rain Contest Sponsored Eve Roper
06~08~16
Categories:
constructing, abuse, angst, earth, money,
Form:
Free verse
Starry skies over Damascus
Like a star chart for the
bomber pilots eating
Milky Ways and lives
Chocolate in the desert
for desert in consumption
The poem could stop here
its pretty clear not pretty
Petty lives perambulating
hiding hobbling around
on what was their feet
foundations souls and
is their ruin's wreckage now
The planes feature logos
“Just do it”
“Whiter than white”
“Put the tiger in the tank”
“Eat confectionary be happy”
What an advertising space
for the daily news rounded
up like the refugees
refusing to be refuse
“Powered by democracy”
“Fuelled by share holdings”
“Rocket launches for a better world”
in the weeping nights and days
lactating for another holiday
of some on sunny beaches
oozing oil wells wealth
and inequality
Milk where it needs not be
in luxury not infant powder
hungry breasts run dry by hunger
sapped empty in the face
of some lives counting
more than others where
camouflage is but
a distant varnish
in the pursuit of power
Soon their will be billboards
“Baghdad was not built
in a moment” “Invest in
Kabul” “Concrete for Allepo”
“Live the dream”
“Life liberty and the
pursuit of happy-mess”
“Constructing globality”
Munching away in my
cushioned arm chair
built from greedy land mines
I collude
“You can have your milky ways”
if the bomber pilots did not
eat them all
Whose wives implant their chests
with silicone from
the valley of evil
that forgot
Instead the artificial brain
the heart transplant
Mindful disposition
of humanity
Looking
instead at the stars
spangled banners
of Damascus
Milky ways
Categories:
constructing, war,
Form:
Free verse
So confined to the boxes is she who
Tries to free herself from them
Breaking down barriers of all political and cultural design
Constructing opportunities and
Imagining their trite and expected
Downfalls
She, who reigns supreme in the art
Of lability
The morning being the promise
The afternoon, the despair
The night, a restless dance to
Hopeful unknowing
So that it may all begin anew
And she may float with ambition,
Flirt with lofty goals
(Which are so very tangible once realized to a more substantial degree)
All through which comes the
Bitter devastation
The cerebral revelation
For her mind and the World work in harmoniously demonizing tandem to erase the sketches of a life
Of her own craft
Categories:
constructing, age, art, emotions, identity,
Form:
Rengay
Constructing Catacombs
Desirous death, a submersed breath, the walls in a carious crumble
Living life, a surgical serrate strife, as we stand surreal and stumble
Baneful blood, a feverous flood, the temerarious towers will tumble
Terranean tears, fertile fermenting fears, a famished fatalistic fungal
Corpses mounting high, Angels in the sky, reuniting dead and divine
Perpetual praying, love’s lost laying, as we build their sacred shrine
For we question why, we deceitfully die, within the abortifacient vine
Blue clouds of clay, casually chip away, as the minstrels drink their wine
The new Babylon, do we belong, beyond death's door is still unknown
Faith be quick, do we get to pick, a heaven or hell that we have sewn
Odious obstruction, of deaths destruction, mankind comes to mourn
Caught in oblivion, a denunciative delirium, and thus we are reborn.
Nov.08.2017
PREMIERE CONTEST NO 110
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Categories:
constructing, dark, death, destiny,
Form:
Rhyme
I donned a cloak of sadness, too heavy to bear.
My frowns, deeply etched from doleful despair.
Then he came into my life; blue eyes smiling,
like lambent skies after a storm, so beguiling.
He offered to help ease my emotional pain,
"Let me cradle you in my arms," was his refrain.
Tender whispers of love, this man possessed,
but his romantic notions were a quixotic quest.
His burdens were so much heavier than my own,
for his irascible demons made me sob and groan.
They ignited like hot coals, tearing me apart,
a cauldron of flames, charring my wounded heart.
They were an albatross slung around my neck,
Specters who turned my life into a tangled wreck.
I tried constructing a citadel to shut them out,
but they breached my walls by another route.
His cross to bear, but on my soul they were born.
In darkness, I trod; suffering, but not fully worn.
My aspirations of hope were drowning in sorrow.
I kept promising myself, "I will leave tomorrow."
Finally, I realized it was only myself I could save.
Armed with a prayer, determination and a stave,
I chose to walk away from love that went askew.
Trembling, I fled. There was nothing more to do.
November 26, 2021
This or That, Vol 8 Contest
hosted by Edward Ibeh
Categories:
constructing, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
He whittled away
A very large branch
That in 6,000 days
Was part of his ranch
Yet not just the branch
Or a tree or two
He whittled a forest
Full, through and through
For this man and knife
Both aptly named, Jack
Had spent half their life
Constructing a shack
Jack’s knife was quite big
With hammer and shovel
To both cut and dig
A primitive hovel
After trees dropped
With Jack’s knife axe
The bark was lopped
To fill in the cracks
He whittled five oaks
And one hundred pines
Yet the pines, no joke
Took half the time
He sliced up the frame
Most days and nights
But could not hue stain
Nor pare out the lights
He whittled a door
Out of an ash tree
And also the floors
Of all rooms, just three
The man ate plenty
With no need to shop
Whittling fish hooks
And felling peach crops
Then finally old Jack
On a day with gloom
Completed the shack
That lacked head room
The rooms were too small
For all the hassle
Yet, Jack stood tall
Beside his castle
His wife took a tour
But quickly fumed
Since there was no sign
Of a bathroom
But Jack was prepared
For his fair spouse
Pointing out back to
A rough sawn outhouse
Still, floors were creaky
From lacking nails
And ceilings were leaky
Details, details
So Jack told his wife
That his next mission
He’ll devote his life
On an addition
And when they had kids
Of at least three
They learned to whittle
Their own family tree
Categories:
constructing, fun, home, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
A long-time memory that hugs my heart, so many years ago. When I was nearing ten years old, I was playing in the snow. It was me and my two sisters, my brother and his gal. And there was also my dog "Snoopy" whom I've always called- "MY Pal." The snow had fallen for two days long, and it was bitter cold. But that didn't stop a child from playing in the snow, when their nearing ten years old. I remember throwing snowballs and constructing igloos too! We'd play all day in the snow, until our lips turned blue. But lastly, I remember, 'twas one of my favourite things. In the snow, we'd lay on our backs, and make "Snow Angel Wings."
Playing in the snow
Memories that hug my heart
Featherless angels
Categories:
constructing, snow,
Form:
Haibun
Teaching traditional
Is based on transmission
But is receiver tuned?
Cannot transmit culture.
Culture needs discovery.
A teacher must accept
To hear the students’ words
And work with their conceptions
Constructing day by day.
No discipline succeeds
With rules imposed as truth.
Discussion is a need
To improve a conscious thought.
Become constructivists!
Categories:
constructing, teacher,
Form:
Prose Poetry
It grips you like a dying man
On his last breath with regret to reveal
It weighs you down like cement
Tied to your legs before entering the water
It drives you crazy like the second hand
Running in circles on the clock
Fear is debilitating like a missing leg
Preventing you from standing up for yourself
A war forever waged across the battlefield of life
Each victory prepares you for the next fight
Each defeat sends you running in retreat
Fear is a guest not welcome in your home
Do not let it past the threshold
Fear is a tenant not paying rent
Evict it before it tears your building down
We all have within us the tools to succeed
Use strength as your hammer
Confidence as your nails
Constructing your salvation
Building your freedom
Once completed, maintain it you must
For fear has no place
In your brave new world
Categories:
constructing, fear, metaphor, simile,
Form:
Free verse
Contemplating atop the “Great Wall,” was Neruda comparing similarities of this and “Machu
Picchu?” Was there more commonality beyond stonemasons craft? High stone walls ancient
cities, “great walls,” lesser ones (Berlin) are designated barriers between peoples/ideologies
for protection. Long standing cultural isolation results.
Constructing a fence of wood at Isla Negra afforded symbolic protection. Wooden slats
allowed words over and through pickets to the world beyond. If “Machu Picchu” was “a trip to
the serenity of the soul,” fences and “great walls” lie on opposite sides of that.
Neruda’s prolific poetry rose above politics unencumbered by walls, fences or dogma.
for contest on Pablo Neruda
Categories:
constructing, dedication, people, political
Form:
Narrative
“Haiku”
sunbeam dances light
among briers and bramble….
maker's tapestry
sharp lines intertwine
daintily paint silhouettes….
against twilight sky
~*~
“Quatrain”
Dark forest captures life
disbursing death’s deep vale.
Vague inner quiet rife
along each winding trail.
Vines seductively twine
concealing that within.
Constructing forest shrine
deeply obscured fox den.
~*~
“Tanka”
In its quaint abode
beneath emerald canopy
opens woodland doors
to a vast menagerie
encased in green blanket mold
new life beginning to end.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Categories:
constructing, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Through the lens of a scope,hate watches,
Bam,bam,on the butt,two more notches,
In front of their eyes,life flashes,
The weak at heart,it snatches,
A mustard seed to a melon it grows,
Slowly but surely,engulfing souls,
Cold as snow,consuming flesh like crows,
Demolishing friendship,constructing foes,
Bursting hells door,into our world hate pours,
In the heart of evil,hate soars,
Knocking the LORD,children doors,
TRYING to conquer GODS' Kingdom,from shore to shore,
GOD stretch out his hands,flowing galore,
Love is the challenger,Love is the cure,
Love is the victor,hate no more.....
{Trying} is capitalised intentionally....
Categories:
constructing, faith, hope, religion,
Form:
Rhyme
I love this nasty game of a combination of
leisure and life where the trouble maker becomes the victim
and the product of that crafty pencil of our imaginations
is translated into a true life story told by the welcomes
of roses, gloriosas and saffron crocuses.
silk so tight on a flesh so mild
can sexualize a nearby stone
and with the first half of your luscious castle,
the throne definitely stays beneath its delicate walls,
strongly preserved for the exotic union of my everlasting presence.
The hips’ salvation matches your lips temptation
thereby constructing a pix exaggeration
to inflict a fixed subordination on me,
making it count at six erections already
as I’m lost in a mixed contemplation.
Oceans gushing out of the sun and trees standing on the clouds
are perfections of a world only known by the census of two.
Our citizenry well enforced by this mighty affection
and bodies well protected
by the magnitude of such penetrating jealousy
strongly fighting against any threat of liquefying its refined honey
and adulterating its rare tasty wine
put the art of intimate knowledge into re-evaluation
and the strength of the art of sex
very close to the question mark of moral bliss.
Such wealthy lavishness with all positive alteration
to any kind of belonging is evidenced
by my accepted foolishness so honourable.
Words alone are unworthy because the probability
of using all existing letters is not sufficient enough
to mold a brick out of a thousand many
in building my bridge to your heart.
Categories:
constructing, art, beautiful, beauty, romance,
Form:
Romanticism