Best Contemporary. Poems
In a field of daisies, bathed in a perfume
of wild roses, clover and ocean brine,
you and me in the early afternoon
drinking Kool Aid, pretending its wine,
and sharing left over crumbs with a few tiny ants,
that scurry across a thread barren cloth
that has spent years in a trunk with a moth,
While we eat a meal fit for a King and Queen-
Periwinkles, Dulse and canned Sardines-
treasures from the Great Atlantic Sea,
while the rolling waves break on the rocks below
in this field where so many daisies grow
He loves me, he loves me not, my daisy flies away,
And only Jimmy and the wind will ever know.
Written: June 9th, 2014
Author's Note.
This was my first picnic with my first love - We were 6 or 7 years old at the time.
such class
such grace
a lady of glamour
gold adornments
fit for a queen
gilded slippers at her feet
exotic as a mystical perfume
parading her culture
with flare and dignity
an ambassador
a diplomat
an empress
a goddess
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Stark, new,
fresh, sheets
-toilet paper.
Shadows and neon lights
flood the hotel room
we are actors in a soap opera
the pillows drool
at your sexy eyelashes
I anticipate you and I
will share the smell of exhaustion
as we cling to each other
in our soon to be well worn skin...
Perhaps I don't really know
where you've been
or who you hang with
all I can feel right now
is to taste your lips
lick your dark brown skin
I don't wish to know
your favorite movie
you don't know how I like my tea...
This just may be
an acted out
fairy tale romance
or it may just be
a dark night of erotic tricks
then I'll ask for your number
this most dangerou game....
~ ~ ~
It's inauguration day, January 20, 2021.
I could be at home, watching the TV presentation
pomp and pageantry. But old, achy, onerous and
anxious, bladder full with no toilet near, I wait
in a chilly car in a VA clinic parking lot,
entry to warmth and light prohibited by
the COVID pandemic.
Inside, my life-partner -- afflicted by
diabetic, infected purple insensate
second toe, left foot -- seeks news
of its possible fate: to be treated
or scheduled to be permanently removed
from its too snug position among
the other toes. Fidgety, I have settled
upon re-reading for the umpteenth time
selected pages among my (now) collection
of loose sheets between two crumbling
covers held together by rubber bands:
what's left of my copy of The Vintage Book
of Contemporary American Poetry, edited
by J. D. McClatchy. Many of these poems
(all perhaps?) are no longer "contemporary" --
this is a 1990 paper publication with poetry
from the preceding 40 years. I still treasure
many of the poems.
My custom, when alone, is to read out loud, and
to mark or circle poems, selected phrases, lines,
or passages that I choose, for whatever reason,
and often to think/fantasize how or whether
I might (or would) have written and then recited
in my own words, in my own voice, my own altered
poetic echoes of those lines, those thoughts, those
rhymes, those carefully or recklessly considered
pronouncements and descriptions.
And to wonder whether my own contrivances
would blend well with the originals that fostered
their appearance.
I conclude: my ersatz poetic products might be
somewhat like an infected toe that could be
snipped away -- or treated and tended, nurtured,
cured, made healthy, worthy enough for a place
crowded among those others.
As I have tried (fitfully) here to do.
"Contemporary Haiku" by Catie Lindsey:
children play and scream
in a world at war ~
school bell rings
in a war-torn town
where a child screams for his mom. . .
a school bell rings
(I've removed this revision for Catie from the contest and am using the tanka above it on my poetry page!)
Contemporary Ode To A Mother Crying Out
To Her Children…2015
Sprawled out on life’s stage,
her world turns and runs
river red with the blood of her children:
flowing like a wandering stream.
Bloated ballooned bellies
mock aborted pregnancies;
once luscious breasts
sag in parallel union
with sinking faces
of lost hope.
Lost hope—whirling
like solitary ghost smoke
of abandoned fires:
abandoned fires
dying in waning time.
Hollowed red eyes
of fleeing lovers look rearward:
the wholeness of nothingness simmering;
as smiling death sits—
waiting and anticipating the wonted feast.
Heartbeat of hope struggles—
murmuring in the valleys and shadows;
searching the gods’ penurious mercy.
In the midst of the Dante, hazed hell,
a wretched mother clings
to time and history—once again.
Rooted in her audacious faith,
she cries out to her wandering brood in Diaspora:
those liberating souls spewed from her precious womb.
Scattered liberating souls—umbilical bound;
destined to restore her great grand glory:
With sage seasoned good courage,
sagaciously she squats—
awaiting the victory.
The London Gherkin gives no inspiration
As for the Auditorio de Tenerife by Calatrava
I can think of no other explanation
Except perhaps they shared too many bottles of Cava
The National Grand Theatre built by Paul Andreu
Built in Beijing China; and it looks just like a dome
I wonder what he was on, when he put the plans on show
It looks like a greenhouse- that we have here at home
Simmons Hall in Cambridge Massachusetts
Looks like a Lego prison gone wrong.
Did Steven Holl take some bets?
Or had he been on the bottle too long
Architecture of the contemporary kind
Does not inspire me
I am more an of old fashioned girl
And will accept a castle built just for me.
30 St Mary’s Axe is commonly known as the London Gherkin
Manu strolled to his stainless sink
To wash his hands and have a think.
He reached for soap, a bar was handy,
A square pink cake that looked like candy.
He ran the water, fresh and cool,
And in his hands, it formed a pool.
Then, out of the water, to his surprise,
a tiny fish with bulging eyes
Appeared to Manu and woefully cried--
“Please, kind sir, don’t wash me away!
I have important words to say.
If you will raise me, then one day,
I’ll save your life, please let me stay!”
Manu responded, “Little Fish,
How shall I raise you? Grant your wish?
Shall I place you in a dish?
Your little home in which to swish?”
Fish answered, “In a jar for sure.
Until I grow and well mature.
Then in a pond you shall put me
Until I’m ready for the sea.
To keep his fish friend safe, Manu
Installed an inground swimming pool.
His neighbors laughed and mocked and drooled,
Said, “Evil fish has found His fool!”
And Manu said, “Don’t laugh, but pray!
A Flood is coming, Fish does say,
And Humanity will be swept away!
This fish will save my life one day!”
In time, when Fish was fully grown,
The largest fish mankind had known,
Manu and Fish to seashore went.
Humanity’s time was almost spent.
Now build a ship, Fish told his friend,
And it will save you in the End.
Then tie the ship to me, and I
Will take you to a mountain high.
And when the rainclouds did unleash,
That massive flood killed man and beast.
But Manu and The Fish survived.
And on the mountain top arrived.
And just as Fish had always said,
Humanity was now quite dead.
Overcome by the raging flood,
The world was cleansed of all bad blood.
But Manu on the mount was safe,
Against Fish’s wishes he never chafed.
And as the waters did recede,
The Fish told Manu he must leave.
His job was done, Manu was spared
Because for Fish’s life he cared.
And then Manu, now all alone,
Began descent to his new home.
My friends took me down to Broadway
To watch a newfangled ballet
T'was called the Buttcracker
And not the Nutcracker
The title was apt I can say
Some dancers were dressed in tutus
Bulges in their tights gave us clues
All the dancers were male
My friends face turned quite pale
Next time we should read the reviews!
02/08/21
Swirling vistas of such sweetness found floating through the auspian air ~
Pen to pad calibre idioms beyond the verbs measuring these tidewater inkwells aside
Beauties, evergreen genetives in red, white and pinks, pronounced; Camelots dreams....
Testimonials of daybreak amid the pacific keynotes?!
Her ambient adverb treasures, gently washing upon the shore inside, my thirsting soul ~
These syntax reasonings postulating now their exotic gatherings; stencils
Moonstruck truths at contemporaries point break; subverting the translucent waves
Amplified currents in forms approaching this high tides, ecliptic heart....
Shadows once shimmering their syllables of review; now, a nouns verse!?
Swirling my spirit deep inside this melding aqua paragraphs, seaside melodies; rhymes
In literatures pacific daybreak keynotes ~
Postulating Moonstruck testimonials; syntax reasons floating through the air of this, loves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."Comtemporary Romance Novel?!"
Lazy afternoons on easels
Maples giggle loud with sweetness
Blue and yellow mixed in grasses
Withered wrinkles sink in lilies
Joggers run in fear of dying
Secret trails end in abyss
As the sun stabs days in prisms
Bloody madness grabs the paintbrush
People old vanish from benches
Emptiness sits down by me
Artists mutilate self-portraits
Tempera in tubes succumbs
Painters shoot apocalypse in veins
Signatures escape through keyholes
Night becomes obsessive pitch black
Ghosts invade museum closed
...and I walk by with my suitcase
as reduced to it I am...
No one knows I carry homeless
The Portfolio of my Fate...
copyright@iolandascripca2012
I have found the light and happy I am
Its the Lamb I trust
It must be all the forgotten lust
I have to take to the heavens
Been writing poetry since I was eleven
Been working on selflessness and being pure
Worried about the future as we his Exodus
This is my life it has no price
I am on the road see through God anything is possible
No relapse to the old me, But I have to admit
Its hard watching everyone else fall to hell's bells
while I am in the book of Life because I've already been scared straight
I wont take the bait
To hate its like being locked in a crate
God always gives me a clean slate
Not to be irate but I am always up late awake
saying a prayer for my little brother
Cracking the safe code to his little heart
All of us are screaming glory to the universe
While the devils rain cloud trembles with sweat
I wont let him get to me God says I am free
Just call me a solder of the cross
Gods the boss and he says I can do this.
To teach some virtue on broadband
To spread God's word from a bandstand
To require more clothes during a suntan
To eliminate lewd dances in lap-land
To take lust fanned and begin a ban
To fight child prostitution in Thailand
To remove molesters' favorite gland
To vanquish tears throughout the land
To banish lewd stories from the newsstand
To compel greedy people to disband
To stop cattle rustling in the rangeland
To remove abused plants from pusher's cropland
To not stick my head deep in the sand
To teach righteous living in my homeland
To stop mankind from sinking in sin's quick sand
Contemporary values are not God's plan.
© January 27, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
POETIC FORM: List with Monorhyme
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Contemporary
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
VERSE ONE:When the times get so weary and the days seem so long.
When the night owl sits in the trees.
When the silence is louder than the clock that is ticking.
I want someone I can trust to stand,yes, to stand by me.
CHORUS:
Stand by me, Dear Friend, stand by me, when I am weary.
When the night moon is shining down on me.
When the quiet starts to ring and wakes the night birds in the distance.
I want my friend,yes my friend, to stand by me.
VERSE TWO: When my time is approaching, and my sight is dimming.
When my light is falling down on me.
When I look in the distance and the angels are coming.
I want my friend, yes my friend to stand by me.