Best Covertly Poems
Words can be whimsical, a merry-go-round
They run in a circle, they bounce up and down
They play hide-and-seek, until they are found
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
Words can seduce like a scandalous dance
They'll perplex the complex, if given a chance
They're as sincere as England, as sexy as France
As reckless as the caution they throw
Words can get tipsy if taken too much
The pretentious go on-and-on about such-and-such
The brutish ones can bail you out in a clutch
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Words can be tacky, tongue wagging gabs
Words can be lavish and leave you the tab
Words can covertly steal and grab
Their smile is only for show
Words can impulsively issue a dare
Words can react with extravagant flair
But words must always be handled with care
When timing's too slow, for words on the go
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
As reckless as the caution they throw
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Their smile is only for show
When timing's too slow
For words on the go-
8/7/18
Beyond The Open Door
She stretches her arms across your abyss,
so that she can covertly open your door.
She cries as she peeks into your eyes,
for you hold onto a grief that does not belong.
She promises to baptize you with positivity.
Sadly she cannot promise you wholeness.
Eternal bliss waits until the end of a journey.
Your place is here, within this current heartbeat.
Do not fear, you will find deliverance.
Tick tock, tick tock, time whispers,
as you grasp for sanity.
Roots and branches are different
and still they are the same.
Above and below the grass,
they stretch beyond the boundaries of shame.
They know there is fresh spring water
and a blue sky to claim.
Root rot happens if you choose blame.
You will burn through obstacles,
for you are one who possesses an ancient flame.
“Ooh ooh the rain comes,
my eternal heartbeat drums,
ooh ooh my heartbeat drums!”
So she caresses your leaves
with fingers and thumbs.
She’s thankful to witness
one of the blessed ones.
She listens to church bells
singing in the night.
Under your branches
she bathes in the moonlight.
There above you is a star dotted sky.
Together you absorb that pure bright white
Thump thump,
thump thump.
You whisper her name.
You are both different
and still somehow the same.
You live on the thin line side of insane.
She feels no shame,
no need for blame.
Ooh ooh the rain comes,
your eternal heartbeat drums.
ooh ooh your heartbeat drums.
She desires to caress you
with her fingers and thumbs.
Your branches stretch across that abyss.
With your leaves, her lips you kiss.
Thankfully she opened you to more.
Not a slave to fear anymore.
Together uprooted to an ancient shore.
Yes transplanted at the edge of paradise,
just a few steps beyond that open door!
By: Richard Lamoureux
At the risk of being called “rabble-rouser,”
I think poor old Barky Von Schnauzer,
should practice his aim,
his master to maim,
in the back end of his very best trousers!
My hero I would call dear old Barky,
if he could just muster the stealth of a sharky,
and covertly steer,
right straight for the rear,
of that great big old bag of malarkey!
I think I should send Barky a big four leaf clover,
so his bad luck would finally be over,
he could retire his fame,
move away, change his name,
to Bowser maybe Lassie or Rover!
Obviously I have been driven completely insane by that stupid t.v. commercial!
Happy St. Paddy's Day!
She stretched her arms across your abyss,
so that she could covertly open your door.
She cried as she peeked into your eyes,
for you held onto a grief that did not belong.
She promised to baptize you with positivity,
but she could not promise you wholeness.
Eternal bliss waits until the end of a journey.
Your place is here, within your current heartbeat.
Do not fear, you will find deliverance.
Tick tock, tick tock, time whispers,
as you grasp for your sanity.
Roots and branches are different
and still they are the same.
Above and below the grass,
they stretch beyond the boundaries of shame.
They know there is fresh spring water
and a blue sky to claim.
Root rot happens if you choose blame.
You will burn through obstacles,
for you are one who possess an ancient flame!
She watched you devour a bullet,
you absorbed the lead.
Your enemies believed you were dead!
Sap left your bark as you bled.
Yet, she could hear you sing beyond the red
“Ooh ooh the rain comes,
my eternal heartbeat drums,
ooh ooh my heartbeat drums!”
So she caressed your leaves
with fingers and thumbs.
She was thankful to witness
one of the blessed ones.
She listened as the Church Bells sang in the night.
Under your branches she bathed in the moonlight.
There above you was a sky dotted with bright.
She felt more than your might,
you were a magnificent sight.
She allowed her imagination to take flight.
Her mind soared above flickering firefly light,
absorbing your pure bright white.
Tick tock, tick tock, you whispered her name.
You are both different and the same,
living on the thin line side of insane.
She felt no shame, no need for blame.
Ooh ooh the rain comes,
your eternal heartbeat drums.
ooh ooh your heartbeat drums.
She desires to caress you
with fingers and thumbs.
Your branches stretched across the abyss.
With your leaves her lips you did kiss.
She was awoken by an open door,
no longer a slave to her fear anymore.
Together you traveled to an ancient shore,
finding a place on the edge of paradise.
Yes, just a few steps beyond that open door!
Inspired by J.W. Earnings
His piece “Bite The Bullet, Edited Version”
Fragile hearts
For many years romance blossomed covertly
Robert was the man of Ami’s dreams. Sadly
Ami's parents had promised her hand to
Giurkiran and the arranged marriage was to take place in
India. Ami rebelled against her parents wishes, she
Loved Robert with all her heart so they
Eloped and married in secret.
Her parents immediately disowned her and
Even when Ami eventually gave birth to
Ajar their first grandchild, they refused to see them.
Realisation finally dawned and day after day Ami’s
Tears fell. Unable to cope with what she had done
She died of a broken heart.
10~16~16
Contest Fragile hearts
Sponsored by John Hamilton
It's hard to be Green
in a Red v Blue drama scene
Hard to be heard
and seen
when the Blues
say the Reds
are too mean
and the Reds
find the Blues
too liberally obscene
It's hard to be Green
when political business
is all about capital investment debate
and not dialogue
about how to ecosystemically abate
the invasion of our hate
amid failure of our late
climatically failing
Anthropocene.
It's hard to be Green
and bravely seen
in a Red v Blue debate
about sharing our ballistic toys
with other militarized girls and boys
who believe we are safer to be mean
than to plant a spring fed garden
of polyculturally healthy
cuisine.
It's hard to be cooperatively Green
in a Win or Lose
Red or Blues debate
about who is most worthy
to trust
not to covertly lust
for powers bending the minds
and chilling the hearts
and killing the home
of our late Great Transitioning
unearthly mean
formerly Green
Anthropocene.
It's hard to grow Green
humbly in-between Red and Blue
appositions unclearly not not true,
undogmatically,
unemphatically
transpartisan green
green
green,
unseen.
Written: March 09, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's utterly aquiver and ambivalent
With is a glimmer of modesty
His fame stems from promoting peace
But who holds the power to bedraggle?
Let's embrace bel esprit, compassion, and mercy.
There is a path betwixt utterance and ubiquity
where knowledge flows freely
In quiet sternness, it evolves...
It wraps with a meandering debate.
Behold those who wept covertly,
Who wastes these precious tears?
When some dreams come to a halt,
Life endures and perseveres.
Who moistens their life, oh you?
Who bathes, but why won't submerge?
When water drifts away and out...
The monsoon remains never fades away.
A sacrifice can lead to martyrdom,
They have a way of shaping history
And confronts the dishonesty.
Fostering defiance and optimism,
aim for an idyllic future,
Leave a legacy.
And participate in upheaval.
What purpose does the blood serve?
Is it futile to draw that to a boil?
What's beneficial is the blood?
Is there a way to safeguard the soil?
Everyone raised a voice in reply,
Ahead of us is a fierce opponent
For the sake of the homeland,
We will shed our blood.
Founder's day
>A wind of gratitude is waving
>River of love is dancing, exhibiting wonderful styles whiles meandering
>Cloud of commemoration is drifting.
>All to say ‘’ayeekooo’’
>’’Osagyefo y3 ma W'amo’’..
>The throne is set, come and receive a panegyric
>You are a relic in our memories
>Posterity will always judge in your favor
>A man of wisdom and valor.
>You fought covertly or overtly for then progeny's emancipation
>That fight had made us a proud generation.
>Your were the torch of your mother,
>Your contemporaries can't gainsay.
>Your foresight laid the foundation for your mother's future.
> You started building the walls that projected your magical plan's picture.
>Your confidence was willing to leave no stone unturned
>Alas, nature sent you to the urn.
>Great dreams stuck in the skull
>If you can hear me, speak through a necromancer.
>We have missed the great voice of an orator.
>Even if your phonetics can’t do, let us feel through your kinesics
>We will love you until our hearts are no more
>Your mother will remember your sacrifice until she closes her memory's door.
>You indeed are a founder.
>We salute your charisma.
>Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, ‘’mo ne adwuma’’
>’’S3 3nn3 y3rehyir3n s3 nsroma’’
>’’3y3 wo mm)denb) ntiaaa.’’
>We respect today.
>Because it is your day.
>Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah
>’’Mo mo mo’’
>We salute.
Genial to avoid confrontation
Baseborn kind, complaisant character
A spurious recital, a cheap imitation
Apocryphal mind, and comical creations
Counterfeited Christ
An unholy effusion
Sons of Belial
Clutch arcane knowledge
Esoteric information
Delve into oracular verse.
Deadened faith
Recondite belief denuded denials
Portentous and abstruse
Divested of the truth
Desolate road
Traveled day after day
Seriatim in miles
Strangled in hyperbole
Hypothetical noose
Cheaply loose
Tightening
methodically
Suicidal salvation
Covertly clandestine
Do what art wilt
Deliver the chosen
indoctrinate guilt
Derision to the destined
To learn love over hate
Adoration to inculcate
Imbue their sick lessons.
Righteousness expressed in struggle’s ply,
comes shining in a single lifetimes chance;
From life’s shadows dim a gift will rise,
explicit in one solemn watcher’s glance;
Prosperity’s plex is so placed in hand,
but fortune’s bless those blind deny;
Bliss from one’s valid efforts blocked,
results in stress and tears from failure’s fry;
Delivered not is the finisher’s fee,
collected is butt, and not success’ pride;
Covertly served is an effort’s worthy try,
reward, is goodness, and a steady upheld bide;
Worth’s weight, the lowest hanging bough,
when weighed by the thinker that seeks to vide;
Value thus, when shared is given gratefully,
without the thoughts of a profiteering mind;
Presents to those of worldly wiles,
one dilemma, upon which the fool will find;
Clarity flexed removing one’s clouds of doubt,
what “gold” then mined, supplies a lifelong tithe;
Fulfillment is extract cast from nature’s whey,
nourishment enough for every creature’s clime;
Surely now greed can be wholly sacrificed,
and stress from the chase of cash be slimed;
Follows simple logic does this gist,
that once given a gift, the bearer of such will shy,
Away from snide and lowly self-intent,
and allow a higher thought to clear life’s cloudy skies;
From unknown facts, to time’s knowledge let,
each giver grants to all their generous boon;
Transgressions pushed aside are but truths to whet,
when honed by honesty, and in divinity hewn;
Hold these ‘truths’ expressed, prove mind’s suppress,
can be cleared for all, and not spent as garbage strewn.
The sirens and mermaids
called up from the deep,
untangled mesh nets
blithely held out by sleep.
There the first to emerge
were the sighs and the nods,
they sank then resurfaced
in clear Morphean pods.
I found myself wandering
on a wide stretch of beach.
My mind squeezed like a lemon,
my thoughts fuzzed like a peach.
When the sheet of fog lifted,
I walked through the haze,
what’d been transfixed by the night
now transformed into day.
Bands of green kelp
had encircled my feet.
Sand dollars tossed out
from the wallets of seas.
The tang in the air
by the water and brine,
awoke to my senses
other days hazed by time.
Sunk then in a sinkhole;
my heart now clanged a bell!
I was no longer an oyster
in a barnacled shell.
I kicked off the seaweed,
splashed through the shoreline,
feeling refreshingly freed
from that soul ravaged time.
I knew I’d still wonder
about Calamity Clam.
Had he hid from the onslaught,
become a sea star’s sea ham?
Ouf…no longer my problem,
I was no agent by rights.
Then I stepped on an object
and, out went the lights!
I hopped in frustration
with great hurt I did bow.
I bellowed out pain
like an angry sea cow.
With one mighty scoop
he was constained in my hand.
How to dispose of the despicable?
I felt seared by a brand.
Covertly I gazed
at this nemesis of fear.
Then I gave a smart tug
to his mossy green beard.
The thoughts that I harbored
were not of my decree.
I hurled him out, with three skips,
he sank back into the sea.
"Immaculate"
I’d like to write something
beautiful for once,
divinely dripping with honey
and milk that washes white
like stamen juice over the uncut,
the bees all come to drink
the heady dew,
stroking their black down
over dusky aubergine-eyed
blue forget-me-knots,
the nots touched by thorns
those slippery rosary beads
coddled warm between the hidden
breasts of petulant nuns
bending in their black habits
unfettered roses
pistils sticky with stigma
covertly kneeling before their
uncovered dreams
of nakedness blanketed
in the sun's light
warm and flaming
as a forbidden kiss
plucked passionately
immaculate
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
pistil.
stigma.
Her hair- black as a raven’s breast
Eyes glowing through orbs of green
She dances covertly in the dark of night
Where not another soul is seen
Warbling a haunting, enchanted tune
Chanting, dancing around the fire
Under light of a full October moon
Questions lie on lips to desire
Is she malevolent or benevolent?
Never a soul has been so bold
To tell their story... too hesitant!
She possesses many powers, many tales
Lifting her hands as she chants
Red mist swirling, twirling behind her veil
Eyes brightening in orbs of green
Chilly mist crawling over her skin
Under an oak tree dancing unseen
Cloaked under her crimson, blood red shawl
Strange sounds and names uttered
As she boldly dances, chanting out her call
Wild, fierce, bold and free
Like a chameleon she changes
In red blazing firelight so unseen
Suddenly, the ground shakes with deafening roar
Bursts of electric blue, beam above her head
Voltaic forces join, shaking earth’s woodland floor
Down the path, robes flowing, blowing in the breeze
Many forces about, electrifying ground and air
Gathering together, chanting, dancing under the trees
Many denizens of this land astound
Warlocks and witches cast their magic here
As their caldron bubbles over ground
They come together from lake and fen
Here they meet from darkened lair
Ferny dells and rocky dens
“Make room”, they call in pitch black night
Bringing many potions to mix them well
Taking wool, wand, bone and eyes, what a fright!
Casting out and about their magic spell
Mixing tooth and tongue and nail
Under fire, water, earth and dung
They mix the caldron, hold the flail
Hemlock, henbane, adder’s blood
Chanting out, “By thee we bound upon this road"!
Suddenly the spell’s been cannily brewed
Using blood, eyes and tongue of a toad
As quickly as they came, they hastily leave
Departing thru forest dark, entering private glades
Leaving once again, only to return
On another chilly October full moon eve
"Merry Meet", they all say, as they make haste to flee
Then they'll secretly meet once again...
Where they’ll chant and mix another magic urn
#_#
Black and white
two beautiful shadows in the night
I am waiting on mine
in my window, I wait for thee
once the clock strikes one am
then two, then three
I feel a deep rush within
like a wave hitting the sand
where are you?
I am waiting
the thought of your lips
so close to mine
wrapping me, in a bind
your love
your spirit of love
enslaves me in secret chains
nowhere to leave to
but wait here for you
in my window, I wait for thee
the cold, old house creeks
the hush of my sleeping dwellers
I dare not speak your name
into existence
until I see your form
creeping, slowly
toward me, boldly
like a lion stalking its prey
circling my heart, ready to pounce
covertly crawling your body
onto my woven nest of wool and feathers
you whisper, "How I have missed the taste of you"
my body has ached for such familiarity
waiting with the moon
for you to return to me
in my window, I waited for thee
Silent solitude no more
my window is my lovers door
hold me in such tender embrace
no second of tonight
available to waste
his hands trace my body
like a painter with his brush
the moon casts a silver glow
over our warm naked bodies
fingertips graze my lips
gently, as if glass that can break
"pull my hair" I tell him
all my waiting, I want him to give me
all that I can take
every winter kiss
he plants on my back feels
like frostbite
the clock strikes 5 beats
too soon
as we watch the silent moon
shine over our love
in the window I waited for thee
Migrate into the darkness
from this cold dark mansion
only to return tomorrow
a warm kiss to keep you warm
into the night in which you came for me
midnight madness will strike again
tomorrow, in my window, I wait for Love...
soft flames flickered offshore
Timucuan tribal campfires
luring Menendez’s armada
Feast Day of St. Augustine 1565
Spanish settlers rowed covertly to shore
more than 600 torches ushered in a new era of light
torches turned to gaslights
hanging yet today in a city of artists
where street singers hope you’ll look their way
centuries old Castillo de San Marcos
ghosts of slaves held within
cast a spiritual shadow on harbor water
originally restored Spanish architecture
throughout the gaslight village
living history, soft lights, no neon
antique stores adorned by twinkling white lights
lantern lit are the many street-side vendors
couples stroll past, hand-in-hand on the cobblestone street
historic integrity for the nation’s oldest church
multicolor strobes ascend through huge stained-glass windows
colors in streaming rays reveal detailed architecture
bright spotlights from the Fountain of Youth
climb the large, wooden cross Spanish settlers erected
one of two signs observed by mariners
brilliant glowing image of hope, guidance
St. Augustine Lighthouse’s beam shines a path far offshore
black and white rings glow in its tower, circling candy cane
Bridge of Lions, an illuminated spectacle
visitors’ gateway to a forgotten age
well-lit harbor, safe haven for houseboats and yachts
gaiety reigns during sunlight hours
night brings a different mood, perspective
warmth and intrigue - city of historic lights
*For the City Lights competition
City: Saint Augustine at night
*See “About this Poem” for history on the United States’ oldest city.