Best Curbing Poems
“Slips the Blue Satine”
Desire bites
a sonnet ripped
where the voice projects
through glossy cherry bit lips
down a telephone line
wrapped around long legs
speaking soft words
welcoming you in like a quilled whip
Freedom bites
a too serious sonnet smiles
then progresses to apply
velveteen kisses where the lips
tie a loose noose of words like pearls
around the sound conduit
curbing the mind
whispering to soft curves,
a roadmap
written across body
eyelids, flushed naked cheeks
neck down to hips
where the key turns
poetry speaks
blood drawn
the heart has teeth
Gaga’s gone
all evolutionary
too much of too much
she denudes the blue Satine easily
divesting all hopelessness of
the hounds barking
their haranguing hangdog habits
superlatives exaggerated
hyperbolical expressions of praise
blessed again in the wasted chronicles of time
her hand’s firmly fixed
around the gear stick
stilettos accelerate sharp
instructions from the driver’s seat
switching gears up
behind the fortune wheel
treasure sits
“pull your head back in”, she says
“the Lotus Eaters
at Loon Junction
are on the prowl,
they’ll tear you to bits”.
"humour me," he says,
"let me off my leash".
(LadyLabyrinth/2021)
“Small Town Witch”/ Sneaker Pimps
https://youtu.be/M6zh5rAlZ18
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Velveteen_Rabbit
Sonnet 106.
The Dilettante Diaries: "Goin' Gangsta on the Road to The Lotus Eaters at Loon Junction" -
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_dilettante_diaries_goin_gangsta_on_the_road_to_the_lotus_eaters_at_loon_junction_1059240
LYRICS/"Small Town Witch", Sneaker Pimps
https://genius.com/Sneaker-pimps-small-town-witch-lyrics
Here’s Heaven
As we approach the Pearly Gates Heaven’s crew anxiously awaits
As our Soul soundly negotiates how to enter Heaven and debates
If we lived without sinister sin the Gates would open and we’re in
For now our new journey will begin without our earthly scrimy skin
~~~
The Gates open welcoming wide as we slowly walk worthful inside
We are greeted by an Angelic guide as they whisper here we reside
Golden gates behind stand mile high reflections of pearls in our eye
Where Angels faithfully fly climbing clouds for their love will liquefy
~~~
Rows of mountains protruding peaks for Heaven rejoices as it speaks
Kissing cherub’s chubby cheeks and nestled naps near curbing creeks
Riding rollercoasters reaching sky breathing ambient air of apple pie
Harps playing a luminous lullaby where shimmering streams beautify
~~~
Armies of botanical floral display where children dance to their ballet
A cheerful celebration every day and the sun shines bright never grey
On clouds of cotton candy chewing with robes of silk seemly sewing
Where our love is always renewing in the midst of Heaven's viewing.
Aug.20.2018
Describe heaven
Sponsored by: Faraz Ajmal
Placed 1'st
Bleeding around me are empty faces
Sad, drooping spaces, crumpled places
Melancholy for the light of new places
Stuck in time, frozen in time
The pangs of lonesome fill their sagging hearts
Frowning forever, frowning forever
Let me stare blankly at the stained wall
Nothing at all…nothing at all
The mind is a scary place
The mind is a distraction
From the reality ever binding
Curbing every reaction
The mind is overwhelming
The mind is oh so sad
When we turn to larvae and graves
It’s an never-ending...
Entwinement
Found myself looking through the tiny hole in the wall
Watching you fall, watching you fall
Scared for the neck that would break us all
You shuddered my blood…shuddered my blood
I met the eyes of the souls of your feet
Twitching and swinging…unfeeling…unfeeling
Please allow me this sole ease:
Just be with me... lie with me
The mind is a scary place
The mind is a distraction
From the reality ever binding
Curbing every reaction
The mind is overwhelming
The mind is oh so sad
When we turn to larvae and graves
It’s an everlasting...
Entwinement
-inspired by Mad World by Gary Jules-
-also inspired by the stop motion film: The Man in the Lower-Left hand Corner of the Photograph-
THE THREE STOOGES
With their lunatic style of slapstick
These old favourites made their mark
Bangs on head, eye pokes and **** kicks
Were transformed to works of art
But it's not of this trio I speak
Three more egregious, my aim
On these your attention I seek
They're REGRET, SHAME and BLAME
Undesirables of the emotions
With pretence that your life they will serve
If for living this life you've devotion
Treat them with the mistrust they deserve
.....................
SHAME - the one least deserving disdain
The one who gets head bashed and eyes poked
Only loons never feel guilty pain
Without wishing their sins be revoked
With no shame at our dastardly deed
We would surely be heartless and brazen
Not to wish to repent, fault concede
But don't drown in self immolation
.....................
REGRET is a stooge insidious
A crime with no victim but self
Curbing soul in a manner perfidious
Life on hold, and you on the shelf
Have a few, perhaps 'too few to mention'
You mis-spoke? Well by all means retract words
But avoid a total suspension
And don't spend your life looking backwards
.....................
Then BLAME, there's the killer, life dumbing
Though it may give relief and brief feel-good
To beat up some rat who had it coming
But move on! Don't espouse victimhood
The problem with indulging in blame
It makes another the cause, you effected
Paint yourself in a victim's frame
Can you then be source for life corrected?
13 May 2018
In a world where dreams are rakish and quixotic,
Where quiddity seems extravagantly chaotic,
A chivalrous soul dares to be different.
With a heart that beats fervently, so magnificent.
Romantic notions dance in their minds.
A visionary quintessence they find,
Chimerical dreams they hold dear,
Preposterous, dreadful tracks they fear.
Age is just a number, they say.
Irrelevant in the pellucid pursuit of their way,
Happiness is the sense that one matters,
And their dreams are the ladder.
In a world where opia destruction prevails,
Where chaos and despair often trail,
Quixotic evidence emerges, bold and bright.
Roguish scope for rebuilding shines a light.
Dare to alter the world, they proclaim.
With sapidity gnawing such a flame,
It may seem quixotic, and some may sneer.
But their seraphic vision is so clear.
For in their hearts, they sojourn the key.
In a world where dreams roam free,
Where impossibilities become realities
And it's in this world, they find their vitality.
There is no scarcity of opportunity.
To earn a living doing what they love, with glee,
Chasing in kuebiko without compromise.
For in their dreams, their spirit lies.
It erratically seems as if curbing entropy,
Is our quixotic goal in the cosmos, you foresee,
But in the midst of chaos, they stand tall.
With a determination that never stalls.
In a world where dreams are quixotic,
They refuse to be virtuosically robotic.
They believe in the anecdoche dreams.
And nothing, awry reality, dims their gleams.
They agnize that each sonder is just a number.
And that happiness is a monachopsis to remember.
They embrace the chivalrous and the romantic.
With an onism spirit that's truly ecstatic.
Word Bank:
Rakish: Smart; jaunty; dashing
Quixotic: Idealistic
Quiddity: Core-Subconscience
Chivalrous: Sublime, virtuous
Pellucid: Translucently clear
Opia: Dope, Addiction
Sapidity: Zest, Sapor
Kuebiko: State of exhaustion
Entropy: A situation of panic or disorder
Anecdoche: Amusing Tale
Sonder: Empathy, Compassion
Monachopsis: Confused
Onism: Delineate the awareness of how little of the world we will experience
- a solo nijuin renku -
English version by Liviu Martinescu
entrance to an underground
crowds in winter's clouds
and an atomic clock to boot
the first snowflakes on
the punching bag in the yard
the jazz poem
the town is creeping into
the golden scale
enormous through teardrops
the whitewashed houses
symphonic white
out of scores of thunderbolts
some leaves on the moon
"and thus she sleeps awake
long after she's got up"
the motorcycle
that's carrying them entwined
is curbing the hour
raceless race-course
the loneliness of no-horses
the streets sweat out
in the glove of speed
no time for tomorow
seven doves go clink
against the rosetta of the cathedral
the pollen at night
migrates into saints' bodies
as well as violins
the lark's feathers
made iridescent by the moonshine
circling the deserted
merry-go-rounds the glider
a whirl of silences
only balmy tree-branches
breeze here not whispers
each body
leaks out its own time
two abysses
dark rails
pulsating under streetcars
yellow saxophone
toward the super-yellow sky
it's me in there in the sound
the concert eroticized
new swallow nests
the raw soil blooming
among cherrytrees
beyond the wall
in the shadow of the piano
the spring bread
Here I was, pretending
Not to see the truth that lay before me,
Like a blindfold that refuses to lift,
Forever suppressing my true thoughts
That were safely locked away in my unconscious.
But presenting my rehearsed views and opinions as if
The truth never existed.
Here I was, ignoring
The truth that lay before me,
Like a ship sailing past a hidden reef,
Always repressing my real feelings
From the depths of my heart.
Yet, smiling and beaming like a sunny day, as if
The truth never existed.
Here I was, avoiding
The truth that lay before me,
Like a path that winds around the truth,
Constantly curbing my true actions
That stood at the edge of my awareness.
Nevertheless, displaying a pseudo-me like a doll on a shelf and as if
The truth never existed.
But only to finally learn that
The forever, always, and constant lie
Was a short life, like a fleeting moment,
And only the truth has the forever, always, and constant life.
In opposition they criticize all that is wrong
and all that is good, according to their agenda.
They put clogs in wheels, aided by defiant unions
and often bringing the country to a standstill
with senseless strikes and organized protests.
Mud is thrown at government and individuals;
much of it sticks; the end justifies the means.
During the run-up to elections they use the media
to their advantage; the message drummed over
and over during house visits and heated mass rallies
rousing the rabble with heartfelt oratory.
They promise transparency and accountability;
fair sharing of wealth, help to the homeless and
to the needy; curbing favours to friends of friends
by resorting to the ideal concept of meritocracy;
lowering taxes and bills and introducing new social
benefits that would put all on an equal footing.
Most of all they harp on the eradication of corruption.
They hold roadmaps to solve all the country’s woes.
They promise heaven on earth; they promise Utopia.
Glittering manifesto is presented with much fanfare.
The gullible, switchers and uneducated are brainwashed.
As expected, election produces the desired results and
the party in opposition gets in power...on promises!
Promises that cannot be kept. The devil wants his due.
He grins, pointing to the small writing on the manifesto...
The majority had failed to notice it. It reads...SUCKERS.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: I Can’t Breathe
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillan
Placing: 1st
Peace is though difficult
Yet not impossible to uphold,
All the kings of the states
Must remain self-concerned,
Without poking noses
Into the affairs of others,
Curbing cupidity
To expand the territories,
Subjugate the nations of the world,
Enforce the so-called personal visions,
And put the humanity
Into new-fangled trials.
All the weapons
Latest, conventional or primitive,
Precious or utterly worthless,
Nuclear or less potential
Made of common explosives,
Be spoiled,
Be thrown into the deep waters
Of the unexplored seas,
Wherefrom no devilish character
Could ransack them back.
When some is killed
Neither Hindu, nor Muslim,
Neither Christian nor Jew is killed,
But a man: a child of Adam and Eve,
The same red substance
Pours out of his injured ragged body,
And it pains me.
All the weapon producing units,
And the blood spattering gadgets:
The tanks and cannons,
Mortars or machines guns,
The armadas
With the squadrons of fighter-jets,
Submarines that navigate
Secretly chase the nautical targets,
Catapults and all the missiles launching frames,
Be thrown into furnaces
To be remodelled and redesigned
Into of the earth moving machinery,
Instead of the appliances
Colouring the Earth red.
All the medals or symbols
Of chivalry be taken back,
Combatants and men
With the crowned shoulders,
And medalled chests,
Who often move in the battle-fields
Puffed with the martial pride,
Imparting, rendering
No service to humanity
Be employed to plough the lands,
Plant the gardens,
Make the dams and reservoirs of water,
Feed the cattle and get them milked on time,
Engaged them
To perform some rewarding assignments.
Upon the earth,
There must not be a single
Blood-claiming weapon;
If men are incensed
And fight is unavoidable,
They must fight with knives and rapiers,
Swords and shields made of gossamer,
All the time heeding
Lest they should break;
And all inhabitants of the world
At least once a day must trim their nails,
Lest when they are indignant
And resentful should scratch
The skin of fellow beings or their own.
The roaring twenties prohibition.
Left violent crime to seize the day.
An act of folly, no forward vision
Of curbing crime, and their ambition
To supply hard liquor, and disobey.
The roaring twenties prohibition.
Failed to prevent, what was tradition.
A paradox says that,'crime does pay'.
An act of folly no forward vision.
Corruption is blind no opposition.
The 'cotton clubs' were there to stay.
The roaring twenties prohibition
Was needful then for more attrition
And fighting crime, without delay
An act of folly, no forward vision.
Until the lawmen gained submission.
Who was to blame? Society will say,
The roaring twenties prohibition.
An act of folly, no forward vision
3/ 2/ 2015.
for her sister's one hundredth birthday
a new sweater purchase from a store blocks away
a goal coveted, though for the aged, no such thing
as risk-free walking
she believes
self help springs from iron determination
anchored by her walker,
she trudges,
dismissable pain from battered knees
that grind in bone shrapnel
sapped by the demands of her quest,
her return walk of measured step affliction,
fatigue eroding
"Should I call police to usher me home?"
her thoughts like fabric fraying
in the ruling wreckage of movement, willfully overcome
she wraps her sister's white sweater that
ribbons their legitimacy
that hold them together
curbing minds drifting
daily quest to fight fading
two sisters, resilient blooms
to rage at pulls to brokenness
to slip what traps the aged
their undimmed merit in the slow lane
hardy hearts still beating
pivoting
in life flourishing love
that holds its footing in this world's
detachment
Poem composed: October 3/21
Awesomely sweet is God’s Word* to my soul
Benefiting beyond Milky Way’s role
Curbing cravings for Charleston Chew pleasure
Delightful dainty more than Dove for sure
Enriched with wisdom, not of Smarties load
Fortified to triumph along Rocky Road.
Glazed by divine savor above Pay Day’s
Heavenly taste of Lifesavers with grace
Irresistible midst Heath’s rich flavor
Joy-source from holiness’ Spree and favor
Kindling activeness more than Kit Kat’s might
Lifting spirit is God’s precept-insight!
Mouthwatering Mounds can’t surpass Scriptures
Nourishing Now and Later faith-ventures
Over limitless Take 5 service grants
Pleasant, devoid of Starburst sour rants
Quelling stress much better than Skittles
Relishing prayer times midst Nerds-rattles!
Satiating trust-appetite’s fervency
Thrilling not just tongue as does Galaxy
Unmatched are the Lord’s statutes-nourishment
Value-filled, it exceeds Skor’s fulfillment…
Well-coated with Zero sin-calories
X-raying heart midst Snicker victories
Yonder Mr. Good Bar’s yummy cheerfulness
Zooming beyond 100 Grand preciousness!
(Abecedarian and Couplet forms)
*Psalm 119:103 How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!
Indeed, the Word of God is absolutely sweeter than all those delightful sweets - candies and chocolates- combined (Psalm 119:103). The Lord be thanked, praised, and glorified for making His Word available for our salvation, spiritual growth, sanctification, and service-steadfastness!
October 3, 2018
1st place, "How Sweet It Is" Premier Contest
Sponsored by Carol Connell; judged on 10/16/2018.
This is featured in the book, PS: It's Poetry: An anthology of contemporary poetry from around the world. Paperback – November 27, 2020 by Arczis (Author), PoetrySoup (Author)
CURBING OUR TONGUES
There are pivotal moments
Decision points
Crucial conversations
We must choose our path
Walking to the light
Step into the shadows?
Gaining control over our tongue
Is spiritual maturity
Person who has the last word
Or the best argument is the winner
Real winner is the person with control
Real winner is the one who maintain composure
Perspective when hothead is busy loosing it
Our tongues can lead us into world trouble.
Unchecked anger
Unforgiveness
Tiny White lies
All these things pull us away from Eternal God who wants to lead us to the light
To your mouth you give free reign evil, you harness your tongue to deceit. Psalm 50:19
4232014
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are messages
Were written with an encrypted language
And need deciphering
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are words
Were written with all languages
And need reading
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are scattered dreams
Were robbed from the years of the life
And never come true
Only when the love shines in the hearts
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are a silent call
Only the familiar souls can hear it
The secret of its silence is still unknown
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are sharp arrows
Were made of senses and feelings
That are hitting hearts
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are migratory souls
Looking for homelands
All borders were closed in their faces
Till shining the sun of freedom
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are dresses and shrouds
Were woven from threads of the destiny
For showing the suffering of the humans
To know that sadness and joy will end in the grave
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are spells and talismans
Were written from the whispers of the devils
Uncovered the tricks of witches and charlatans
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are shy sighs
Were imprisoned unjustly in depths of the chests
Escaped from the dark prisons
Looking for remains of happiness in luminous prisons
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are hymns and prayers
Were written their tunes from the lights of angels
For curbing the desires and the lusts of sinners
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are stories and novels
Were written from the bloods of innocents
They are still without ends
Until the hope begins with writing the conclusion
Tears are not just drops
That fall from the eyes
Tears are white doves
Were created from the love
For spreading the peace
E Pluribis and Unum Haiku
Pluribus Unum
Did look lost without the E
So what should we do?
Henry Mancini
Drove a long Lamborghini
Both made sweet music.
Did you see docile?
Guy who was an apostle
Sleeping on the job.
Let the bed bugs bite
And will stay up through the night
Trying to get tight.
Oh dear and oh no
Gifts were lost in Atlanta
And found by Santa.
Why all of the gloom
Poetry Soup I presume
Around likes to loom.
I was explicit
When response is illicit
You should never send.
He had history
Of opposing you and me
We started to see.
He had an angle
And him wanted to strangle
And also mangle.
My constitution
Were going against again
So I took a spin.
Make mine Poem of Day
You should read in Runaway
Beach in Oregon.
What is disturbing
Drinking we should be curbing
Do it anyway.
Bright backset driver
Surely will be survivor
Keeping big mouth shut.
A proposition
In poor lighted condition
Sure is hard to see.
Was quite whimsical
When glass was finally full
Did have fighting duel.
He who buys last beer
Should be sure to have much fear
Bringing my wife here.
If it had not been
For likes of those we call Ben
Was Kit a Carson?
No there is one to think about
Paris we have gone
So we may end up plastered
Like we did last year.
In Washington oh no
We watched people who will grow
Tons I told you so.
A haiku have heard
Was like wings of a big bird
Big commotion stirred.
Was a big battle
Loaded a bunch of cattle
Or would skedaddle.
Really was Rogers
Part of band of old cadgers
Named Will who we love
Were going against again