Best Countenances Poems
The word on faerie lips, I’ve heard -
A gleaming, white, pristine, grade A...
Baby tooth. And rarely used.
A solid, shining, well-endowed,
enamel-laden tooth. I’m wowed!
And....
It’s in the next town!
Flyable!
I gather my reliable
Companion faeries...
and
we’re
off.
Now, they’ll be the distractions
from this night-time interaction.
One can change into a rat, and one a bat.
And, readers, THAT
Is how you keep
prying
parents
BUSY.
I’ll be the procurer
of the tooth. Magnifico!
Window’s just open. In we go,
My troops and I,
A squeeze.... a wiggle...
We’re there.
We giggle.
The holder of the tooth
Is fast asleep.
So in we creep,
And there she is - blonde, dainty pinkish lips.
And I'll admit
she’s pretty cute.
Though drools a bit.
And now... the moment...
I lift the pillow....
And that’s it! I have no doubt!
And look, some gore is hanging out!
I don’t mind telling you, I quite like that bit.
Anyway, I scrape off the food....
Oh, mercy me....
Spinach for tea.
But...
It’s gorgeous.
Flawless.
A tooth without a mark, a nick
Or dent. Enamel slick
and gleaming new
as the first day
It came through!
My troops and I - we dance in glee
around the bed - unstoppably!
And our giggles wake...
no one.
A
Perfect
Score!
We fly out, we’re elated
They’ll rejoice
We will be feted
And paraded all through Faerie Town!
They’ll pull the other posters down
And photograph our faerie faces
All the faerie places
Will be graced
With our fair countenances!
We’ll launch such legends and romances!
What’s more!
What’s more!
The Grand Dame of the council... she’ll be BOUNCING
With excitement and announcing
Our awards and trophies shining
We’ll be signing
Faerie books and faerie hands
Our names will sing through all the land!
Oh, a treasure was scored today!
We’re laughing, laughing all the way
Home. Careful!
Don’t drop our
Treasure, for with that,
all our high dreams would....
Oh.
Categories:
countenances, cute, fairy, woman,
Form:
Free verse
Oh, latest iPad, may I hang thee,
From the nearest garden tree!
A Grinch, thou art and nothing more.
Causing me, endless problems galore!
As always, Safari is to blame?
Almost a tune, that puts me to shame.
Why is it I , who is always at fault?
I dream of joyful days of saddleshoes
and malts.
Of humanity speaking, face to face.
And of being social, was of no disgrace!
Typewriters and mail, oh how I love!
This electronic age, hardly hand in my glove.
I miss the aroma of fresh, pencil shavings.
Thus goes, my off the wall nightly ravings.
People no longer look at the beauty of one
another.
Pasty- faced countenances adoring their beloved,
electronic other !
A ghost faced, global society?
Which dreams a worthless vaccine
can save humanity?
I despise propopganda with my entire being.
And on our devices, is all right we are seeeing.
9/30/2021
Categories:
countenances, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme
Beneath the translucent veil of placidity, emerged that sound
To all is pure evil forecasting the prelude of a prolonged agony
Of flashy tear drops falling from a man abandoning his captaincy
A voice gushing through blood to veins in a body utterly bound
With the zeal of a new couples tasting a love heartily profound
Never imagining their pampered sparkle would ever reach atrophy
A persisting whisper like the howls of a one thousand wolfhound
Driven by lust, the fervent fervour fatuously never faltered my heart
Desire has simply dyed my insidious sensation with colours agleam
With ease, the prey has fitly fallen into web not using a single dart
Night wiped the eyes of conscience, sanity swept in a sea of steam
For sweet sin never countenances evildoers to venerate the extreme
Bed saved its sheets for passers-by to err, the game began to start!
© Guru Jad 2013
Categories:
countenances, relationship, romance,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
A pawn for a pawn, a crown to crown,
whom is Master of this Lodge in town,
this I enquire while preparing the pyre for you to retire,
my meddlesome mobility unabated, indicative of a congenital nobility,
configured to coral this clambering caravan of corrupted cargo,
like a sqaulid sailing ship mired by a dragging anchor
I will be the insensitive squall that screams and squashes
your spirit's resolve for immortality to which you aspire,
by necessity, your pirate army pines to encroach this backline of mine,
alert for advantage like hyenas on high ground,
but when the men turn round with countenances of lost children,
then the lead you must take and oasis forgo,
A final engagement cautiously commenced upon the carnage
of this conflict's first casualties, terrific testament of mortality,
gross scenes torn pale and asunder by torchlights,
unremitting images of the half dead bleeding,
their moans bare and last moments barren
like old channels of lost rivers,
raging exhaustion spurned and supplanted with a spontaneous summons
of a brazen belief that my foe is more weakened, warbled and wasted than we,
here in the middle, setting the endgame circuitously,
a defense is devised to deter like a pinching pillory,
my startegy is instinct, my ferocity diverse -
J.A.B. - Final Part -
Categories:
countenances, engagement, lost, war,
Form:
Epic
Three Faces Philosophy
What keeps the certainty,
The “solid” floor underfoot,
Which physics has taught me
Not to trust,
Or the tautness of my skin
Holding me in?
Taught me naught
Where I begin,
Or end
And in the end, is the reward
The Knowledge, the prize,
The secret of this mystery of
Life?
Mired in the supposed toil
To an extent we must, we must,
Growing old countenances
Labor under the force of gravity,
To deny our return to dust,
We exist sad beneath fantastic disguises.
Categories:
countenances, age, analogy, life, philosophy,
Form:
Quatrain
Vanguard in death and deception,
Innocent hearts heed to his illusion.
Cry Mama Africa, cry for your children.
Angels with dark countenances are raised against them.
Rise black man, awake from your slumber,
Inactivate the medium that is deceiving you.
Understand, no! over stand the number:
Six, six, six is the number of a man.
From the west they came, with bibles and guns,
Igniting a fire, a burning desire to be like them.
Lost in the labyrinths of prayer, summoning gnomes and goblins;
In persuasion we fly with angels and jinns,
Incarcerated in spins of sins.
Dark is our external shades, but our heart is as red as blood.
Ethiopian blood stained the suit of the woman we dearly loved.
Is the black child a sacrifice to god, their god?
Categories:
countenances, religion
Form:
Acrostic
Friends and foes of flesh and bone from me they have flown
A different company I keep in reveries of twilight sleep
When night’s dark blanket does fall, I begin to hear their call
Carriage wheels creak, horses shriek, I look, but dare not speak
Some appear restrained; others seem in good manners untrained
Pale complexions, faces unshaven, countenances dark and graven
Friendly words are not uttered, heavy hearts remain un-fluttered
After a brief admiration I join this motley delegation sans hesitation
Through sleepy streets we ride, through dark alleys we arrive
To our place of gathering - in silence, without any chattering
Far from city lights, under a moonlit sky an owl hoots thrice
As if to wonder, “Are these nocturnal creatures of virtue or vice?”
These ghastly preachers with ominous features invade his lightless
Kingdom with a mysterious mission - in search of freedom,
Perhaps driven by some demon, or for some other unknown reason
The owl has seen enough, so it swiftly flies away with a huff
In a ruinous castle by moonlight lit, at a round table we quietly sit
The ghostly figures each reveal packets from under dusty jackets
On the table they are placed, then with their burning eyes I am faced
This is to be a feast, my hosts are many, but guests there aren`t any
The packets are unwrapped, their curious contents are unmatched:
Flavors of love and hate, horror, and beauty, to devour all is my duty
Some taste sweet, fruits of exotic flavor, I eat; everything I savor
Others brought blood to the table; to swallow this too I must be able
I eat, swallow, devour, my hosts are pleased; suddenly I am seized
By a feeling of heavy heart and head, I enter a dark sleep of the dead
When I wake, in my mouth there’s a strange taste, in my body I ache
But the ghosts` sustenance must be treasured, their feast remembered
Or else I`ll be dismembered, the dark treasures in the woods gathered
Will be retrieved and given to a more worthy soul, for their goal
Is to bring their bitter, bloody honey to feed the mind not the body -
The essence of life distilled by the dead in images and words I was fed
Categories:
countenances, visionary, words, dark, body,
Form:
Narrative
Imagine being in an Art Museum and admiring beautiful paintings of the Four Seasons.
We look at Spring and see the grass that is turning green with flowers starting to peep their heads above the ground and the trees budding.
Everything coming to life
. The summer frame looks so inviting.
The roses full bloom with a gentle breeze touching the leaves of the trees.
A summer shower has just passed over and a beautiful rainbow has appeared in the sky.
The Fall scene is somewhat different.
The leaves are changing color, dying and falling.
Squirrels hurrying to hide their nuts and waiting
for the next season.
Winter, the snow is falling, adding to what is already on the ground.
Everything is coming to a stand still.
Oh, the cold look of Winter.
We are filled with the wonder of the Four Seasons that God created
.
As we turn to walk away we notice others admiring the same work of Art.
Then we realize each soul is a work of Art.
We are also the Four Seasons
.We look into the countenances of those around us and see
Spring, some Summer, Fall and others Winter.
The ones of Spring are like new born babes in Christ, bubbling over, trying to show their beautiful colors.
Summer are the smiles who have bloomed and have seen the rainbow of God's promises.
The faces we see of the work of Art of Fall are like the leaves
blown by the wind who change colors, die and fall. They haven't
anything to hold onto.
The Winter faces have lost all hope. Jesus Christ , the Master painter, wants
to do a beautiful Work of Art in their life. Where there is Life , there is Hope. Sometimes our Art gets creased and crumbled, but He takes His hand and smooth's it out again.
The wonders of our Art of Life.
Categories:
countenances, art,
Form:
Prose
I will love you for the rest of my life,
Feel your hair against my cheek, cascading
Over my shoulder, the brush of your lips
The warmth of your breath, whispering
Tender words I needed to hear, my wife.
In white coats and somber countenances
They brought the worst of my nightmares
“Ten months,” they said, “with treatments
Less without...perhaps five” our experiences.
You accepted your fate; I never saw you cry
Two years now since you quietly slipped away
And I miss you more with each passing day.
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Revised April 22, 2021
For "Grief" Contest
Sponsored by Line Gautier
Categories:
countenances, loss, lost love, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Like a mother of many faces
Many countenances
Changing through the ages
What is written is important but more important is the yet unfilled pages
Her hands are pale yet very dexterous
She has to be ambidextrous
She is sometimes a muse an actress
But she can expand beyond basis
Sometimes she shows her eon’s long age and lawfulness
She can be very grounded and strict even if her gaze is endlessness
But when little girl rises in her that is when she is fabulous
She should be perused with fearlessness
She is greatest when she shows boldness
Then she is able to draw on any canvas
She of course always has focus
But she is sublime when this focus is satisfied yet results show oddness
She and her sister magic look at the sun
When their sun rises they will be one
The ancient wisdom will flourish but its fears will be gone
And the humanity will see that a new down has begun
Categories:
countenances, science,
Form:
Rhyme
stubborn at the most
unfortunate moments
and quick with a
flabbergasted wit
he ambushes me from
the alleys in his mind
from behind
where four strikes
are uncommon
and frequently
commented upon
let's try to ignore the
inane flattery and take
into consideration
three screwdrivers deep
the fantastic premise this
is situated upon
apart-heid
has rendered my fat
and substance unfit
avocados are for brains
still, lavender for calm
we come together
in spite of
differing points of
perspective
expatriated breaths
gasped and sighed at
in the dwelling I somehow fancied
as a home has suddenly become a
jail/reformatory/pilgrimage
a complex and refracted
reflected gallery of smiles
and countenances
not discourteous
simulateously entertained with quips
and the locking of eyes
with the neighborhood bulldog
he arrives again
with breath like linament
stale tobacco and promises
we bicker and yell
no promise as of yet has transpired
above a certain hell
of vacuous emotion
Categories:
countenances, funny, girlfriend-boyfriend, satire, perspective,
Form:
Imagine true love exists
Virtue that on fealty insists
Extinguishing meaningless trysts
Patrimony, chauvinism resists
Tokenism, infatuation desists
Lingering romance that heart uplifts
Unbrokered love with mutual benefits
Pure motives that bridge all rifts
Honor that countenances no grifts
Steadfastness which mollifies truant shifts
Passionate embraces, carnal gifts
Amorous kiss that inwardly drifts
Synchronistic minds that all good fortune sifts
Harmonious spirits soaring life's rugged cliffs
Categories:
countenances, lovelove,
Form:
Rhyme
I believe that writing is like spilling blood out of the carotid
Onto a canvas of sponge
This sponge can never be satiated
It takes generations and trillions of miles of neurons
Just to make a stain
My marrow is strained in such a glorious fashion
In attempt to produce even more lovely RBC's
So that I may contribute but just a mere speck
On this ethereal construct
Today I saw a man with hollow eyes buying homes with the skulls of rats
These homes onced belonged to living souls
The money machine came rolling in with the disinterest of a cow chewing cud
Masticating the precious juice from the canvas that once served
As a font of energy, an expulsion of electrons, something sacrosanct
To those who felt alive in a world consumed by dead, ridiculous intentions
Now
All of the canvas-blood-sponges have dried out in these places, and
As a result
The universe seems to recoil back in on itself as if in fear of
The disasterous implications
The dust seems to layer the meninges ever so slightly
Until I realize the fact that by doing so, I allow the miscreants running
This synthetic freak show of media pogrom and unheralded greed,
To stand in Pyrrhic victory
Somehow this is all
Compounded with an unaccountable need to accumulate as much
Material nonsense as possible because it helps fill
The inexplicable void
I just want to keep pumping blood out onto this convoluted stage, and
Scream in the ignorant face of the man arrogantly cutting others off
During rush hour as though where he needed to get to was so much more
Important than everyone else's destination
The disconnect is here
Look into the countenances of those around you
Thankfully there are those rare souls you see periodically
With some light left behind those orbs
They haven't been made grotesque by the modern world
They have been spending time with their canvas
Categories:
countenances, life
Form:
Free verse
Its beauty is beyond expiry
makes all countenances appealing
exhibited by only humans
Categories:
countenances, appreciation, cheer up,
Form:
Senryu
Heads...
The days of yore
Were characterised with:
Pizza and pop sodas
It was enjoyment galore
All the way through
It was good mood and sweet music
Wining and dining
Hosting and feasting
Pictures and picnics
Clothes and confetti
It was scarlet roses and scarves
Blue champagne and blue skies
Bubbles and bottles
It was luxury and laughter
Versace shoes and Armani bags
Diners and dinners.
...tails
Sour faces with broken countenances
It was hungered and starved
Sudden and painful
Pawpaws and bananas
Lux and Vaseline
Coca-cola and black skies
Phone calls and job hunting
Yaba clothes and Oshodi bags
Favoured and favours
Above all these...
Fasting and prayers
I pray the LORD turns things round!
Categories:
countenances, change, poverty,
Form:
Lyric