Best Convincingly Poems
She squats and points,
her little face is all aglow.
Her smile is wide
She’s grinning ear to ear, you know.
She’s very pleased
at the discovery she’s made.
The little frog
is sitting frozen in the shade.
He knows that she
is his protector and his queen,
but he’s not sure
now that I’m also on the scene.
When did you know, I ask of her,
that frogs could talk and you could hear?
She seems so sure
I find it easy to concur.
I’ve always known,
she says, and most convincingly.
They sit outside
my room at night and sing to me.
I call him Fred;
He has a loud and squeaky croak.
He’s very sad;
his girl was gone when he awoke.
He calls her name
And sings a song about the moon.
I love him so;
I told him she will be home soon.
Why do you think, I ask of her,
That I can’t hear them when they talk.
The frogs told me
That grownup heads are filled with chalk.
When do you think, I ask of her,
That you won’t hear them anymore?
She looks real sad,
When I get big, like maybe four.
You are my frog, I say to her,
for me there never was a choice.
I love you so,
in my best squeaky, croaky voice.
She hugs me hard
And says Big Daddy, never leave.
Where would I go, I say to her,
My little frog, my Genevieve
Physical is the coat I wear-out
in the elements – the ephemeral
shell of me, and not the yoke, man's
embryo of spiritual wealth...longevity of
experience and immortal growth –
True! -- of the Eternal Now in my
biological years not one has convincingly
surfaced, risen above the depths of doubt
to undeniably attest, my only proof
the intimate echo of a heart-heard
voice, reciting from the velum of a
supposed soul, surfacing despite the negative
chatter of fatalists: lordly provocateurs
of fiery electrons, rejecting sparks
of individual ethereal sense: despite no two of
us ever proven exactly alike, each of us
the unlikely oddity of billions....
a mathematical contradiction that
can only be attributed to the reality
of a God....
Hmm...What Discursive Poetic Theme Shall I Write About...
Today (a rather brisk, chilly,
and otherwise sat
tiss factory twirly delightful
December 18th, 2018) matte
her of fact quite
refreshing noontime, while this fat
tend plot of Earthen surveyed terrain
situated over scat
herd modest suburban tract,
(actually yours truly some watt
urbanely sprawled out) at
Latitude: 40.2538 Longitude: 75.4590,
where I sit pat
and think to write
about some reading material flat
touring my "FAKE" status
as king of agitprop for chat
hurrying class gussied up with
artistically crafted rat
tilly done up snazzy razz mutt tazz
(approved by Willard), this expat
lapsed Peterson harried tailored script,
asper previous peculiar
swiftly styled idée fixe
literary unnecessary, rat
tickly tawdry superfluity)
interspersed with dollops of splat
hard logophile, nonetheless gentle
on the eyes, yet feeling totally flat
and devoid of meaning, and quite
convincingly desperate idea this pratt
tilling far amore in the dell doth
expatiate, expound expressively, gnat
cheerily witty, (i.e. hint- please
pretend these humph fat
tickle lee meandering, rambling,
and warbling words) taxing
on mental faculty as bat
tan gruelling death march
physically, when circa
April 1942 Japanese forced
76,000 captured Filipinos,
and Americans Allied
soldiers to march about 80 miles across
Bataan Peninsula (province
in Philippines), where they died
enroute to...during World War II
on island of Luzon, espied
as a spiritual sanctuary hosted
by a knowledgeable tour guide
named Matthew Scott hood dons
genuine (musty smelling)
Tory wig to hide
as an alien alias (from the outer limits
of the twilight zone) incognito
even to himself, and especially the bride
of Frankenstein, who evinces a strong crush
toward said nondescript gentrified
vested gentry groundless thinker with pride
though, dirt poor (at least on the surface),
but deep down rich with
Schwenksville well watered
history harkening back to 1684,
when hoodwinked, jilted and lied
Lenni-Lenape Indians got fleeced
then taken for a ride
this land ceded to (stolen from) William Penn
nestled along the Perkiomen Creek.
The Life we now live seems but a deceitful drain
Rules abound that keep us all in chains
When will our saviour show us
We are in his favour
Blessed are the rich for they can afford the price rises
Essentials are so far out of reach for us already on our knees
We constantly pray
For what we gravely need
Blessed are the police for they can do as they please
They trample us in their lustful hate of society
Despite claiming to be our big brother
Blessed are the artful for they will dodge anything
And pay an unfair share of taxes
By buying government policy
Blessed are the bankers for they have ruined the day
Lending to us who could not control our spending
But now have to face reality
Blessed are the politicians for they always know what not to say
And lie at election time so convincingly
That we foolishly believe their comedy
Blessed are the immigrants
For they at first appear foolhardy
Working long hours for less money
Till they realise they have rights like everybody
Blessed are the celebrities
For they have distracted us well
From the day to day hell in which we dwell
Blessed are the peaceful for they are useful after a riot
And can calm some but only for a short while
Till the government causes a decline in the economy
Blessed are the rioters for they know the value of greed
And covet an unpaid for flat screen TV
That was too overpriced if bought legitimately
Blessed are the gangs for they rule the streets
And act like feral cats
Till they end up six feet under
Blessed are the silly for they believe the news
And have a forgetful countenance
And will always blame somebody
Blessed are the over-spender
Who keep the internet in boom
Even though it’s unaffordable credit card spending
That will cause future misery
Blessed are the middle classes for they take all the school places
And the jobs and all the cream
And anything they can carry
Blessed are the reporters
For they know how to fan the flames of discontent
With their distilled forgetful hate
That shows gross prejudices
Blessed are the simple folks who the world passes by so quickly
And who seem so unfairly happy
Long may they remain cloaked in insanity
And finally blessed are the people for they will rise up eventually
Another day
When despair can’t be held at bay
I thought I saw a snowflake in June
Perhaps, it was just silly daydream imaginations
Or were ongoing investigations really do
Upon further horizon inquiries
The sun ended interviews in blushing denial
And when heavenly interrogations finished
The sky was turning guilty blue
I’m absolutely sure
The clouds were somewhere amidst the cover up
Fortunately, a little pigeon squawked
And revealed something of the simple truth
That, there was a brewing
Conspiracy of rumors, flying
So I ruffled stoolie feathers convincingly
To spill the beans, out with his scandalous news
It seems a wintry prima donna
Performer of the coming season
In order to beat the ratings
Broke out early and was somewhere on the loose
Could it be
The very same stitch of ice I'd seen
A snowflake thespian
Acting out in the month of June
Then, I saw a glistening
Of arrogance pass right before my eyes
And tiny banner waved
Followed by the squeaky words “see you very soon”
I rubbed my eyes in disbelief
And then, my tongue was quickly unleashed
As I closed the case of any further flakes
From trying to make their premature Hollywood debuts
cheerful carefree clown
children's cheer captivating -
convincingly charm
~
27.02.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Alliterku - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
2nd place in the contest
If I had more time to write
Oh the stories I would tell
The tales of Kingdoms rising
and later how they fell
Of Princesses locked in towers
With golden locks of hair
I would tell tales so convincingly
my friend I’d transport you there
Yes there’d be mythical fables
Magical beasts rising from the sea
Fairies dancing in the moonlight
As you hide behind a tree
Yes you would be the hero
Rescuing a maiden from a foe
She’d reward for your valour
With a passion hot and slow
The stars in the heavens
too numerous to measure
would pale by comparison
to your earthly treasure
Happily ever afters
each and every Tale
The hero of all my Stories
You my friend would never fail
But alas I’m kinda busy
Those words you’ll never see
Because I’m short of time
Instead of you, I’ll write of me.
At our Aunt's funeral in 2004, a cousin called my name and said, “Hi”. He picked me out of a crowd of relatives as if we had never parted.
I could not believe that he remembered me from our childhood 40 years before. The fact that I also wore glasses and was fully bearded, did not disguise me in the least.
It did not matter to him the color of my hair whether black or grey. My height or waistline was of no interest to him. It was not the sound of my voice, because he spoke to me first.
My cousin's ability to recognize me so easily on that unhappy day will forever be a "magical moment" for me. My curiousity got the best of me. So I was forced to asked him how he could possibably call me out so convincingly. Without a pause, he so imfatically said, "It's your eyes". Some of us will need to look for a scar, a birth mark, or some similiarity found in relatives. Others might even need a finger print. But when in doubt, ask my cousin and he will tell you that if it's truth you are looking for, the eyes have it.
07072017PSContest, The Eyes Have It, Daniel Turner, NA
I confess I convincingly committed contemptible crimes
Beguiling bewitching beauty beyond my bona fide bounty
Gazed galvanic glances guiltily
Thus glamorized God's grave gluttony.
(alternately known as the Doubting Thomas Crown
Taj Mahal Cupid Affair)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fortunate (for me) thee bona fide "FAKE" Cupid
(aka Decoy Donald Duck
and side kickstarter Jay Rad,
colluded donning one alias,
which (former and latter)
amounted tube bing disguised incognito
as the cingular "Ivan Ha Bea Robber Baron),"
while same above placed
their System Of A Down on high alert
whereby, they unwittingly, fortunately,
and accidentally discerned disquieting "noise"
i.e. static electronic crackling
purportedly from nemesis, asper sans above
whereby broadcasters colluded
confusingly, congruously, and convincingly
as thee infamous digital (duplicity)
faux "Big Mac" Trump.
The chalkboard scratching, hair sprayed bouffant,
and knuckle crackling
appeared tubby the handiwork cleverly disguised
(as tinpot dictator antics of Moscow's version,
sans Putin on the ritz),
which decrypted garble (a fluke) as iterated above
strongly emanating via polygamous,
prestigious, and pseudonymous
pull no punches ploy
innocently convincing feigned
duo code named "Ashley Madison and Bert"
disclosing (when uncovered),
a heartless conspiracy in concert
with Sesame Street studded lesser known Muppets
pretending tubby oil tycoon Bedouins
intent to fleece "sensitive"
top secret military defense contracts,
which Russian motley crue ace double agents
intended this act of espionage thence sabotage
feted as a Black Sabbath Lupercalia feint
not for the faint hearted clubby fete
where Cupid given free rule of the roost
allowing, enabling and proffering
Cyrillic chattering Cherubim
hook cooked United States "figurative goose"
lock, stock and barrel, which stratagem
captured president unawares
and did significantly boost
Eastern Bloc reconnaissance (on par
with the Philadelphia Eagles
winning 2018 Super Bowl LII
which surprise clenching championship
wrought frenzied hoopla, gala, and bacchanalia
where barenaked ladies
cavorted nsync with beastie boys,
whence City of Brotherly love hoopla found
nearly every man, woman and child soused
(analogous to each person garnering
an early Sainted Patrick's pot of gold.
I awoke just as the sun rose;
You were still asleep beside.
Your back was to me as you softly breathed;
When I saw you there, I cried.
Dreams that thread through fingers,
Long lost friends that steal away.
You stretched and sleepily turned to me;
I asked you if you’d stay.
You kissed me on the forehead,
And so convincingly smiled.
I took you in my arms and held you;
You giggled like a child.
I awoke just as the sun rose;
You were still asleep beside.
And when you left, I couldn’t sleep,
For remembering how you lied.
I'm being truthful when I say I may dislike you immensely,
even though I appear to come off as very friendly.
I'll have you believing that I want you as my best friend
very convincingly,
even though in all honesty I dislike you immensely.
Anything you say that may possibly offend me,
I'll react as if I didn't even hear it regularly,
and because of that many see me as weak,
mentally ill or weird at the very least.
Many then try to take advantage of me,
but the joke is on them, I've seen all I need to see,
just more people in my life whom I dislike immensely,
still I will always present myself to them very friendly.
I'm not being two faced, I'm dealing with you respectfully,
even though you're an A hole and I dislike you immensely.
Two faced fox from beneath the shadows
Prepackaged blush the manipulative wallows
Irrational cupidity earthed in lies
Imminently causing fitting cries
Acute observations to every detail
Questions asked but to no avail
Reprehensible plight wears temperance thin
And convincingly accounts for the insurmountable win
Clarity of worth is only there in the lack of
Contradictions and assumptions strikingly thereof
In effect attempts are marked as feeble
Noteworthy endeavors deemed as terrible
Given that honesty less jest were sought
If only beyond the bridge were given thought
Contexts beyond the cusp could have been prevented
The discussion ends when this poem has ended
Way back before this baby boomer waz astute
countless decades before aye became long in the tooth,
and also prior tomb ma sporting dentures to boot
fond memories rush more than so far back
envisioning illusory wind blown steppes
(wait...this visage belongs to thine
long since deceased maternal grandfather
hub hill eave didst hail from Kiev,
or some place thereabouts) within the mind
of this prevaricating aging
"FAKE" barnstorming ole coot
preserved records (those times b'fore cds or dvds)
and now rewinds tape when family of origin
celebrated Xmas secular Harris
house style rendition of Magic Flute,
though genealogy steeped in Judaism
recollections abound of boyhood mirth
devoid of rubric asper orthodox and/or reformed
Judeo-Christian religion,
which essentially means,
I did not give or take a hoot
nonetheless cherish fond memories,
when ma late mum
relished making a hoo ha,
and got tickled and pickled pink
rousing a hullabaloo wrapping presents
and jamming three knee high stockings
with healthy goodies such as fruit
cuz, as a devotee of Carleton Fredericks,
she frowned on giving out sweets
particularly to three children she begat,
and iced hill easily recall her poker faced
feigning complete ignorance and surprise
sheep played “dumb” as did father
convincingly not giving a hoot
puzzled asper neatly wrapped and
stacked gifts under decorated tree
while distorted reflections of stockings
fractal shimmers from metallic gewgaws
in tandem of nostalgic magic
worth mo' than any amount of loot,
perhaps Christmas festivities a flash point,
when some jolly codger (papa)
dressed up, sans Santa Claus suit
and petsmart dogs doubled up as reindeer,
whose canine barking, cavorting, and dashing
haphazardly set them on a direct route
to pandemonium as crashing trimmed tree
cacophony elicited laughter, punctuated
with irrepressible escaped bursts of flatulence
(ah wont mention hoof from)
that emulated a toot.
Wandering along I came to a throng being addressed by a voice.
With Rhetoric so strong it did not take long to realize this voice's choice.
He spoke of our "due " and convincingly too promised to take care of us.
In my state of lack his line drew me back thinking in him I could trust.
"All you need is yours indeed , Supplied by those with more"
"So join our band and walking hand in hand utopia is ours for sure."
It sounded so good I decided I would enlist in this worthy spree.
Then all of a sudden my mind was flooded with lessons life had taught me.
If all were entitled then none would supply and soon all would have nothing all told.
We reap what we sow,
Let those idealists know, anything else is fools gold.
11/24/16