Best Contes Poems


Premium Member Can I Crack Open a Walnut - For You

Like a lost firefly my mind strays 
Concealed like a ripe walnut
My heart is shelled by enclosure 

Waiting to be cracked open... 
To be served on platinum trays 
For whom ever needs some exposure

 
My donation of hope and faith... 
Or perhaps you need just a little love 
If you need some, it's yours to take...to pull 

You may take as much as you need 
I am serving plenty for all 
Widen your fingers, grab a handful 

My friend, what is mine is yours 
My world just wouldn't be the same any other way 
After all, is life really life...without love 

Sharing and caring for one and for all 
I'll be cracking open walnuts...
Until I'm way high...up above  


Tri-Con Poetry Contes
Sponsored by Emile Pinet 
7-16-2019

Premium Member Sweet Poetry

It fills my soul with such delight
to think up verses that inspire.
Words overflow, and I can’t stop,
for writing is my heart’s desire.

For those who thirst for poetry,
I hope to satisfy their need -
to warm their hearts and give them hope.
May cherished be my poems that other people read.

And for my peers in poets’ realm,
let’s reach all those like you and me
whose souls are hungry to receive
the beauty of sweet poetry.

Written November 27, 2022
Submitted Dec. 30, 2022 
for the ' BRIAN STRAND no 1165' Poetry Contes

Premium Member Our Secret Rendevous

May 20th, 2014

Here I am after a long time away.  What can I say?
My only excuse is that  the demands of life simply got in my way.
I must say I feel  guilty for neglecting you - leaving you
waiting, locked away in our secret place.

It seems I  come to you more often when I am  down.
How selfish of me!
Yet! you never complain,  and continue to allow me to dump 
all my troubles and woes on you as I attempt to cleanse my soul, leaving you
to carry all my burdens.  

You -  who  know me better than anyone  -  you who  are always 
there when I need you. 
I come to you today just to tell  you how much you mean to me, my
friend, dear diary.

Written:  May 20, 2014 - too late to enter the contest
Inspired by the contes:  Diary


Premium Member - Haiku X 148 - the Peril of False Spring -

a single small bud

                                  don't say spring is in the air -

                                  snowdrops drowned in snow









15/03/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Writing Challenge 2 - Haiku- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
howmanysyllables.com: 5-7-5

2nd place in the contes

So You Say Your Turning Twenty-One Years Old Rap-Lyric Contes

so you say
your turning
twenty-one years old
today

Hootie Hoo!
happy birthday

and you want
some advice
on the game
of life
so you don't
get played

okay! baby
you know
you just came
to the wrong
place?

so this is the
first thang
i would say

been over
touch your
knees

because
your about
to take
a real spanking

life isn't what
you may think

you'll reach up
you'll get knock down
and sometimes
you can only partially
stand
your ground

it will
only hurt you
more
than
it hurts
me

see
i had
my dream
flash right
before
my eyes

they left
so quickly
i didn't even
see
them die

if i had
scratched
my head
then something
would had fell
right out

and what would
it have said

find someone
smarter than you
and go
to a library
or two

read a book
on how
you'll need
a legal team

and an army
of witnesses
to surround you

there, there
boo
don't
be mad

yo!
i just
had to let
you know

put your mental fists
up
and bring
your A game

and get ready
to fight


because
behind every
smile
is

someone ready
to push
you out
of line!

with rumors
and lies
and mean
**** bullying

and lets
not forget
the best
for last
stealing
your
one of a kind
make you
rich ideals

so get a safe
and a lock
and a very
good key
tied around
a lawyer's degree
so someone
will have
your back

p.s.  go get 'em. ("go get them," and) never trust a smile unless its in writing! and than read the small print - so you won't get any surprises.
and never tell someone your secrets! no matter how friendly they are. my bills in the mail that will be ¢50. (50 Cent)

aka: lyricvixen

Premium Member Morning Breath

A rose-laden climber
bows to the morning sunlight.
I inhale the sweet fragrance
of damask delight and
Monday fades to sensory ecstasy.
The only way to begin a day.



Bite Size Poem Contes
Line Gauthier
5-31-2022


Premium Member Mischief

I think I have a grem/in, lurking in my words 
I'd left a win/ow open and thought it was the birds
But then I heard a thud and a cry for he/p
Saw the little blighter, the elf upon the shelf.

He got very hungry, some letters he did eat
Put slashes where the letters were, do / admit defeat
It was for a contest, no time to put it right 
hope that when its judged ,'twi/l be the dark of night.

Oh well I'll send it off, I've got nowt to lose
Meanwhile I'll write another if / can find my muse
That elf upon the she/f has caused me some grief
Never would I have had him down as a letter thief.

(a rhyme but some of the letters have been eaten away and replaced with forward slashes by a wicked elf)


Written 3rd  October 
For  muschi/f  contes/ sponsored by N/na Parment/r.

Pausing For a Breath-Contest

Pausing For A Breath

Nature works wonders,
The whiff of fragrant air,
The murmuring waves,
The thickets resting on the banks,
The flowers smiling in the cozy sunny rays,
Makes young hearts dance to their tunes.

We wait by the glistening waves,
Wondering why the mind hadn't known,
That the heart can ne'er be cherished,
In the dense woods of people,
Yearning for joy in the forests of clamour,
Was but a mischief of the learned.

Keeping the heart afar from God's law,
Can best be unveiled by the thirsty soul,
By worshipping the purity of nature,
Tripping over the dewy pearls, 
Fleeing from the fetters of manmade expectations
We paused for a breath on our way to our hilly sojourn.

The distances woven by times parted,
Tranquility descended and repaired our broken hearts, 
I held his outstretched hand,
Walked down the glade h tears rolling down,
The heart was lighter,
For I saw a new life in our horizon.

Balveen Cheema
Oct.6, 2015
Contes:Any Poem Written Before Joining Poetry Soup
Sponsor:Poet Destroyer A

Never Felt This Pretty

(09/05/2012)

My birthday skin of 80 year old soul
It wrinkles here and there but I’m pretty
Who would’ve thought I used to be a fool
Had chased abstract things, had left me dizzy
My first hubby said I was a witty
But I kept on searching for compliments
Stupidities were wrapped in arguments
For my second, I never loved him sweet
He did do worst things inside our moments
Had enough after, I stood on my feet

A perfect skin for 80 year old me
Did I say I feel pretty? I did, right?
Aged skin, cracked bones, grey hair; a beauty me
Blurry sight never fails my inner light
Of my self, I had put up selfish fight
It did come when I was 60, oh my!
I thought before 70 I would've died
Never thought of this as a bless before
I stopped offer myself to random guy
Respect my weak body for a year more

Sits on 8th Place 
for Cyndi Macmillan Contes 'My Birthday Suit'

Premium Member Autumn In the Park

Summer’s fled – on the ground
gold and red leaves are found.

In the park is a swing.
I’m a lark on the wing!

Up I go swinging high
in the glow of fall’s sky.

Aug 19, 2021
For Joseph May's In Essence 2 Poetry Contest Picture #2
 Sept. 4, 2021 for Line Gauthier's 'Bite Size Poem no.20' Poetry contes Contest

Premium Member Eap-Art

The artist creates art:

with the portrait passe
in the still life display
of the abstract soufle
in the objets trouve

Why not try one of these yourself in my latest contes 'RHYME TIME'

Premium Member The Partition

a silken wall

beyond earthly realms

separates us all

from the great mystery

no mortal can see

lest He should call



Written 9/24/13 by Andrea Dietrich
for nette onclaud's POEM OF COMPRESSION Poetry Contes

Premium Member Ou Allons Nous: Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal's Where Are We Going By T Wignesan

Où allons nous? Translation of Oodgeroo  Noonuccal’s “Where are we going” by T. Wignesan

Ils sont venus dans une petite ville
Une bande à moitié nue soumise silencieuse
Tout ce qui restait de leur tribu.
Ils sont venus à leur vieux territoire bora 
Où beaucoup d’hommes blancs maintenant vont et viennent 
                                                  comme des fourmis.
La pancarte de l’agent immobilier dit: “Il est permis de jeter 
                                                  des ordures ici.”
Maintenant les ordures couvrent plus que la moitié du cercle 
                                                  de bora.
“Nous sommes maintenant comme des étrangers, mais la 
                                         tribu blanche est en réalité des étrangers.
La terre nous appartient, sommes nous les héritiers des 
                                                  vieilles coutumes. 
Nous sommes la corroboree* et la terre bora.
Nous sommes de vieux rites, les lois de nos aïeux.
Nous sommes des contes des émerveilles du Temps de Rêves,
                              des légendes racontées de tribus.
Nous sommes le passé, les chasses et les jeux qui nous font rire, les feux allumés autour de nos campements ici et là.
Nous sommes des éclairs sur la Colline Graphemba
Eclatants et effrayants,
Et le Tonnerre venant après lui, ce gars bruyant.
Nous sommes le lever du soleil silencieux
       Illuminant pas à pas la lagune enterrée par la nuit.
Nous sommes des ombres-épouvantes revenant 
    subrepticement aux feux de campement qui
     s’éteignent doucement.
Nous sommes la Nature et le Passé, tout ce qui comporte nos 
                            vieilles traditions 
Maintenant en train de disparaître ici et là.
Les broussailles sont détruites, ainsi la chasse et la 
                                     rire.
L’aigle, lui, est déjà parti, l’émeu et le kangourou ont aussi quitté les lieux. 
Le cercle du bora a disparu.
La corroborée a disparue.
Et nous sommes en train de disparaître.

*An Australian Aboriginal dance ceremony which may take the form of a sacred ritual or an informal gathering. 'Aborigines living in the coastal Kimberley region of Australia's top end sometimes dance a corroboree re-enacting the arrival of dingoes to Australia. (Oxford English Dictionary)
 
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Deep End

Granny has found a new trend
 With unseen waves to contend
 Ironing board skurfing
  And living room surfing
 Granny's gone off the deep end!

 7-15-2022
 Limerick Contes
 Sponsor: Lisa YY
© Joseph May  Create an image from this poem.

Modern Folktales From Long-Ago

There is an old tall tale told by the elders in the Village.
It says that the skulls come up from the dead.
That their bones deteriorate and the skulls are only valued.
When the moon is full and the darkness coagulates, 
the skulls become spirits of others graves.
They are the blood of the Irish and Scottish in a diverse place.
They congeal to those newly buried taking their spirits away.

In world of darkness, stands the werewolf
transformed from a bite of a wild dog.
Vexed by his troubles of loving his blood,
this man desired a werewolf woman.
He loved his wife as he loved himself.
He knew that a drop of his blood would covet.
Therefore, he decided not to worry and confound his existence.
They dined that night and red wine they drank.
His blood he saw on her lips was viscous.
She licked.
That night in sleep, she did change.
They became vested and they world became sane.

Lucid and bright is how the sunsets.
A time of twilight is for youth to thrive.
No children left in the darkness about life up to now.
The truth must be told about humankind.
You see we are people created by the omnipotent.
His supremeness is an almighty presence.
No one has every witness him in the United States of America.
We are a discovered country formed from immigration and slavery.
The origin is the blood of my people.
They state that we are from the land creatures.
Our bodies evolved at night from their presence.
We sat in the trees as primates.
We found country that they did not habitat.
We became human beings in the twilight.

TO BE CONTINUED UPON REQUEST!
________________________________|
Penned April 23, 2014!
For Jakitz A. Contes Dark Poems Only!

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