Best Coolly Poems
Wintry white wisps wondrously whirl
Soft sparkling snowflakes silently swirl
Coolly carpeting countrysides carefully
Dazzling diamonds dancing delightfully
Submitted Contest forms A contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
28th December 2014
you ...
are my moon
(whisper me, coolly)
wan and pale as porcelain
milky moll - `china doll ...
dancing the sky like a Ginza geisha
stars tickling your toes
prettily petulant, and perfectly ...
imperfect
my moon ...
(whisper me, wondrous)
warm ... lemon drop on my tongue
teasing me to your fire
feral fool ...
I, the unwary prey - the Mandarin moth
charmed by your glisten
listen - do my wings flutter ...
or my heart?
moon ...
(whisper my name)
round and radiant - red as a cranberry
tart, sweet, luscious-lipped
dipped fruit, forbidden ...
peek-a-boo clouds of mixing emotions
stormy weather sighs
soft flesh pressed to softer ...
your kiss
my moon ...
(whispering madness)
beryl blue sadness and distant as dreams
obscured by brume and illusion
erotic suffusion ...
you pull on my blood like tidal bore
gibbous or gone
your glow is my utter apogee ...
affectation, pure
you ...
are my moon
(whisper your wishes)
I am magic, bathed in your pearly enchantments
face turned, or commanding my heavens
you are ever true ...
hues and moods in multitudes
all meant to melt me
to drip like honeyed passion ...
when you ...
whisper.
* This is a free verse form I invented called “LUNACRITICA” - I hope you enjoyed it! *
Everybody needed something,
and there was always something in the world that needed somebody,
debt is all about connections to affections,
sustenence to stimulus is only half of the formula,
igniting the impetus is provenance of the pursuit,
debt's birth is in the body of temptation,
in the language of lust,
we all find reasons for indebtedness as architects provide strengths for stones,
always a tune to toil for,innumerable impulses to imbibe in the heart's hollows,
needs & wants wants & needs,a crisscrossing of the conscious,
vacillation like breath on candle flame,
on which branch will your bird discover the berry,
what good is satisfying the basics if we are denied exploration of the scenics,
wonderment wrapped in wishes of mocking mortality,
robes of rose petals,
the less we create for ourselves the more we fawn for the fingers of others fantasies,
impatience an instrument for the Devil to revel and drum,strum and hum,
born into a carnival of the careless and criminal
the Devil has a dream and your're his favorite dancer,
you hear in his voice a reflection of yourself and drown in delerium,
a community of stage hands supports your every scream
and silence your shouts for sovereignty,
buy the whole of the basement
but be prepared to be buried there,
a necropolis of creditors and debtors,
expired expressions on the faces of orphans kept alive by water colors
from the pallet of pleasure and perfumes of paradise,
as the spectacle ends the Prince of poverty greets us where dogs bark baldly
and the air is gray with cold,
he grips our hands with a lion's paw and cries coolly -
J.A.B. 2011
HELLO, IT'S TIME....
I called her the other day with intrepid hesitation,
‘hello, how’re you doing, dear, I’ve a proposition,
you’ve tight schedule, but please don’t turn it down,
could we meet tomorrow somewhere downtown’.
‘Hello, good morning, I’m sorry to disturb you’,
I said to my busy office colleague I hardly knew,
‘Could you please take care of the boss if he calls,
I’ve to leave early for urgent work before dusk falls’.
I found passage of my car blocked in parking slot
by a car, a man perhaps sleeping inside I thought.
Losing time I lost temper, in my head anger flew,
I barked, ‘hello, what do you think you’re up to’?
I was getting late for my date, I was out of my wit,
drove like formula one driver, crossed speed limit.
From nowhere the traffic police pounced on me
Coolly he asked, ‘hello, what’s the great hurry’?
She was on her way to leave, shrouded in doubt.
I ran and said, ’hello, please wait, hear me out’,
no response, not looking back she walked away.
The dear price of being late for date I had to pay.
I sank in depth of depression and mental pain.
Knowing from there I had to lift myself up again,
enjoy the transient beauty called life being wise.
I said to me, ‘hello, time to see the new sun rise’.
January 15, 2019
By evening five we started ,
Our christmas shopping activities.
My wife on the lead, her purse full.
Me appreciating her choices elegantly;
Kevin, Andrea supporting my task ,
Our activities ended by nine.
tired we, wanted to sit and relax,
“How about a cool drink? “, my wife.
“Yes, Yes, we should “, I replied.
We walked in to a hotel, lights dim.
Seated we happily, bearer so quick ,
“Four royal falooda “, my wife.
“Da a jungle story”, my children
At last, I got a lead role to play, I thought .
“You know nothing to make these kids laugh”, my wife,
She started narrating a jungle story with expressions!
my children started listening, I too!
Royal falooda came.
I asked bearer not to disturb.
We got in to our world,
My wife,” Once upon a time a fox and a stork lived in a jungle”.
I said, “might be near a lake”
“Yes, yes”, my wife.
“They were good friends. But the fox was very selfish”, my wife.
“Could be like me”, I said.
“Yes,yes”, my wife.
My wife, “One day he thought of a plan to tease the stork”.
“Could be like you”, I said.
“Shut up Da”, my daughter.
“The fox invited the stork for lunch”, my wife.
“I know this story”, screamed my son!
“Go ahead, go ahead”, my daughter.
“The stork accepted his invitation happily-
and reached on time for lunch”, my wife.
“Poor stork”, I said.
“Now the fox played a trick and presented -
food in a very shallow plate”, my wife.
“Poor stork”, I said.
My wife, “The fox finished his food in no time but-
the stork was not able to have his food at all”.
“Poor stork”, I said.
my son started laughing noisily!
My daughter too joined him.
I struggled badly to appease them.
My son said, “Da, I too couldn’t have my falooda at all”.
we were offered a small plastic spoon!
falooda was in a narrow tall cup!
We know not, but we were struggling
I laughed at my wife. She was awe struck!
I said coolly, “I never follow etiquettes",
I threw the spoon and drank the whole falooda!
My children followed me.
My wife threw the spoon; screamed, “Idiot”
She was firing the bearer.
I was laughing silently.
Nowadays people have lost sense!
written on 15-12-2013 for the contest "Any poem #5" by Poet Destroyer A.
I see you walking on the beach
with the shyness of a kite,
toes gripping the sand with eyes that float
to the ends of the sea - tell me
(why do you look to the stars, love,
when we are more amazing?)
There are dreams
within dreams
in merely the sheen
of your crystal clear eyes
Yet with each breathless sigh
I can hear you hesitate
(...lunar cycles, she coolly states,
we are but a phase...)
Tell me, dear, where else
do the heavens find themselves trapped
but in your gaze?
Does not the Sun give us light each day?
(the Sea itself takes time to lick our feet,
as vast as she is, despite how we treat
her -- she comes back again,
nevertheless)
Is the Grass, as green as it is,
aware of its sheen?
Do the Miraculous Butterflies
long to metamorphosize yet again
(or are we the only creatures who dream?)
Do the Mountains boast of their grandiosity,
their towering tallness?
(why then, do we meek and mild, feel embarrassed
over our smallness?)
Take me back to the time
when all of these things were gods
and we were merely chattel,
(just the remains of a celestial battle)
the forgotten residue
----is that You?
An afterthought of a careless god
from cradle to grave?
We were unchained long ago,
yet still think we're slaves...
--
sitting on the hoods of our cars,
wishing upon shooting stars,
thinking love is somewhere out there
beyond the clouds or perhaps even the ether
And yet it's neither
It's right HERE
As tangible as the question
lying in our reflection--
(the truth committing suicide
on our tongues)
We'll conquer every mountain, every sea,
travel beyond the farthest galaxy...
...before we ever contemplate
the miracle of You and Me
Measure me fairly, if you must
but gauge me now, before I'm dust
For when I'm gone, I'll seem ideal
though that'd be far, from what was real
So better then to see me truly,
assess me closely, regard me coolly
You'll see my good, you'll see my bad
you'll see me happy, you'll see me sad
And if you love me, you'll accept
I'm but a man and imperfect
With all my flaws and talents too,
you'll see in me, what's seen in you
A caring, kind and gentle treasure,
if love for you, is what you measure
"Keynote"
"hand me your keys,"
she says smiling coolly
into his breeze
throwing getaway notes
out the window
the sharp beaked blackbirds
flee scurrilously
back where they belong
in the past,
broken behind
their token barriers
Heckle 'n Jeckle
Comic strip characters
yapping their disappointment
on a telephone line
singin' as always
their sad ol' songs
she laughs,
"move over, I'll take the driver's seat,
I'll turn your engine on"
(LadyLabyrinth/2021)
"The Uncertain Smile" / The The (Matt Johnson)
https://youtu.be/5bErFXjUGvQ
"Peeling
the skin back
from my eyes
I felt surprised
That the time
on the clock
was the time
I usually retired
To the place
where I cleared
my head of you
But just for today
I think I'll lie here
and dream of you"
keynote.
;)
way too cheeky...
LYRICS/ "The Uncertain Smile", The The
https://genius.com/The-the-uncertain-smile-lyrics
amor vincit omnia.
"The lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination all compact."
Midsummer Night's Dream.
Hippolyta.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hippolyta
Theseus - Hipployta.
https://www.enotes.com/homework-help/what-does-theseus-mean-when-he-claims-that-lover-226273
I think that I may never see a
tree's sounds lovely as onomatopoeia
to see, to hear, just too profound
sound beats cool on worded ground
ain't it funny to hear a word
that IS what it is, coolly absurd
you may ask what constitutes onomatopoeia
can't say exactly, but hear it when I see it
© Goode Guy 2014-01-03
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Onomatopoeia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joyce_Kilmer
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ogden_Nash
There're frost and sun, the day is fairy,
You're sleeping yet, sweetheart, you're merry,
It's time, wake up, my pretty lass,
Open your eyes that are so tender
towards Aurora and her splendour
Rise like the Northern star to bless.
The eve, remember, evil blizzard,
Sky's full of mist, sky was imprisoned,
the moon was just like yellow stain,
It shone through clouds that were so gloomy,
You were so sad, your room is roomy,
But now, look in the window, hey...
Under the blue-blue skies of glory,
under the sun without some hurry
the snow that like great carpet lies,
Transparent forest blackened truly,
The hoarfrost covers spruces coolly
And river's shining through the ice.
I see the room is full of amber,
Room's bright and stove sings with great temper
of burning firewood.
It's good to think near bed, but maybe
order to harness horse, my lady,
to slide, it would be good.
We're sliding on the snow of morning,
My sweetheart, let horse runs to dawning,
There is no time to wait.
Let's visit empty field, let's visit
thick forests, oh, I really miss it,
And shore that's sweet for our date.
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Alexander Pushkin
“Dark Horse”
The lost poetic find their shadows
hanging on a wall, the darkness
bleeds from tainted feathers of clipped wings
to reveal a fresh page, sharp pristine
words fly coolly following freedom,
a tempting taste of heaven after hell
ensues for a while;
in short spells,
creation occurs in Purgatory
Candide Diderot. ‘25
“….dross being removed from Gold in a furnace.”
Purgatory
Once there was a teacher by name Jenish Anthony "the Holy"
represented success by the simple equation “E=C2” coolly
“E” success in any endeavor of value
“C” uncompromising pursuit of a value
Bloody this hypothesis of Jenish"the great teacher" is no folly!
(With apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer, author of "Casey at the Bat".)
The Mudville nine and Casey have their chance for sweet revenge;
They play today in Dirtburg, their misfortune to avenge.
Two mighty Casey homers have us leading, five to four.
The bottom of the ninth arrives: three cheers for three outs more!
The lead-off slugger, Bugsy, flies to right: out number one.
But Smith and Jones both single; now the worrying’s begun.
So when our pitcher, Nelly, loads the bases with a walk,
In shaken insecurity we hush our hopeful talk.
We badly need a strikeout—better yet, a double play.
But cleanup batter Brutus may have something more to say.
Old Nelly sure looks nervous as he winds up for the pitch,
And Brutus eyes him coolly, and we see his muscles twitch.
And now our hearts stop beating as we hear the bat’s report.
And ahh, relief—we breathe again; he’s grounded straight to short!
The shortstop throws to second for the force: out number two.
The easy lob to first will end this rematch, right on cue.
The Dirtbag Coliseum is erupting in a din:
Uproarious cheers reverberate as Smith and Jones jog in.
The joyful, jubilant half-gibes behind each haughty face
Proclaim our Casey still a bum; he’s overthrown first base.
In a house by a highway by a railroad
Eyes open to a self-set sleep-destroying buzzer
That waking mind impudently pretends
To ignore.
Penetrating the window barrier
The air conducts a heavy diesel lullaby.
Over wealthier suburbs slips a transport,
Supersonic, though no sweeter music,
For rich and poor alike a boon to sleep;
Heard only by more wicked insomniacs
For whom the watch's competent hum is a dirge.
Descending in a shower of metallic disintegration
Three men ignite the atmospheric blindfold, survive,
Do not plunge white-hot into the sea, a common meteor,
But drift coolly down on nylon wings
To the waiting Carrier of the 300 lb. Angelfood.
The mind shrinks
From the prospect of that confrontation,
From the phallic disruption of Christian paradise,
Then cries,
'Oh, let there be nothing on earth but leavings,
Nothing but star-ships on a photon sea…'
Now begins man's search for a Southland.
Yet, as light passes venetian blinds,
Like music through classical guitar strings,
Touching the softened form of familiar Love,
The rods of the eye wander adagio
Along the bars of a century-old sight before rising,
'Dethrone the convict from electric eclipse,
Redress the squalid in disposable, dust-free clothing,
Release the lovers to their denouement…'
The earth womb trembles in the last pains
Of the dark hour,
Heralding man's difficult birth.
Well done Arsenal, we DID secure fourth place
In Europe's elite we've saved some face
Though we sold our rivals the title race
With that sweet spot on van pursy's lace
We left it late, but what a run
As tottenham's hotspur was coolly out gunned
Those sad fans looked duly stunned
Less appeal for their transfer fund
Our cash stacks high, though it's been so dry
Through thick and thin We're Arsenal til we die
A summer spree, we need to buy
Gotta splash the cash or players pass us bye
Please Arsene don't be a gooney
By signing bloody rooney
The stupid oafish buffooney
And sex crazed looney
So Arsene don't lose your head
And take us in the red
Why not try and buy Benteke instead
His boots ain't gettin' covered in lead
Or gettin' jumpy rumpy in any old tarts bed
Dear Arsene(who art in heaven) please heed these words I've said
Some might say, we punch above our weight
Pundits and rivals they often slate
Being a gooner can at times frustrate
Long years since a trophy, we've now hit eight (too)
So lets get all excited and thrash damn united
Determined nitty gritty lets trash up the city
Beat the wealthy playin' stealthy a smash and grab at chelsea
All they'll see is blurs when we clash with spurs
Highs and lows is the way it goes
Don't let united rub it in our nose
Give em a race and keep em on their toes
And come of end of the season, well.....who knows?
Might end up with a trophy to show!!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull