Best Cursory Poems
"Memory is man's greatest friend and worst enemy."
~ Gilbert Parker ~
Laud precious memories when cold nights prevail
Those that fan love's flames as wintry winds wail
for upon those images, a lonely heart sets sail
if only in an interlude where grief cannot assail
Tho' behind and betwixt are storms, dark mortal seas
yet love births sweet glories, devoid of costly fees
Far more beautiful than earth is Nature and its trees
On a romantic path, in truest light, may God it please
Mourns the heart when memories are bittersweet
Each one a plunging dagger, blades of winter sleet
A mighty foe one cannot banish or cast off in defeat
for with each renewed attack, pain is wont to repeat
Memories of past failures plague sad, wounded souls
Invisible afflictions impose such pretentious tolls
Past wrongs are seared into regret's grievous roles
remaining as fair warning, which wisdom fairly extols
But there are melodious moments; dulcet thoughts
where flows trickling memoires and elation imparts
rushing through veins 'til canvassed in pulsing hearts
as treasured paintings; unforgettable works de' arts
When a smile, sans apparent reason, plays upon lips
and eyes shine as though emerging from a lunar eclipse
there will arise a memory, perhaps in cursory snips
a prize to relish, delectable as wine a connoisseur sips
Categories:
cursory, memory,
Form:
Rhyme
Custodian of nostalgic memories,
I cannot help but glance at it everyday,
for it holds in its fold nearly forgotten stories,
that in the distant past used to make my heart sway,
now awaiting the urge within my soul to recreate
and so relive the charm of mystical echoes,
that here and now I may again celebrate
highs of yesteryears as also the lows.
What at first grips my fickle attention,
are not books or photo albums stored therein
but rather thick layers of dust that cause tension
and so the trusty bookshelf welcomes my break-in,
hoping that I may learn from error of my neglect,
reforming lethargic habits and pick up a book
and by doing so, at least offer some respect,
even if it ends up as but a cursory look.
Oh worthy storehouse of knowledge,
I applaud your ability to serve with verve,
judging me not irrespective if I acknowledge
the comfort you provide, which I doubt I deserve
for although many a friend has come and gone
your stoic presence in my life is reassuring,
to elevate my mood if I become forlorn
and so your presence is my mooring.
23-February-2023
Write an Ode Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
Categories:
cursory, appreciation,
Form:
Ode
Memories: Friend and Foe,
collaboration with Lin Lane
"Memory is man's greatest friend and worst enemy."
~ Gilbert Parker ~
Laud precious memories when cold nights prevail
Those that fan love's flames as wintry winds wail
for upon those images, a lonely heart sets sail
if only in an interlude where grief cannot assail
Tho' behind and betwixt are storms, dark mortal seas
yet love births sweet glories, devoid of costly fees
Far more beautiful than earth is Nature and its trees
On a romantic path, in truest light, may God it please
Mourns the heart when memories are bittersweet
Each one a plunging dagger, blades of winter sleet
A mighty foe one cannot banish or cast off in defeat
for with each renewed attack, pain is wont to repeat
Memories of past failures plague sad, wounded souls
Invisible afflictions impose such pretentious tolls
Past wrongs are seared into regret's grievous roles
remaining as fair warning, which wisdom fairly extols
But there are melodious moments; dulcet thoughts
where flows trickling memories and elation imparts
rushing through veins 'til canvassed in pulsing hearts
as treasured paintings; unforgettable works de' arts
When a smile, sans apparent reason, plays upon lips
and eyes shine as though emerging from a lunar eclipse
there will arise a memory, perhaps in cursory snips
a prize to relish, delectable as wine a connoisseur sips
Robert J. Lindley and Lin Lane collaboration.
Rhyme, 12-09-2019
Note: Thank you Lin. An honor to collaborate with you
and see firsthand your fine poetic talents on blessed display..
God bless...
Categories:
cursory, appreciation, art, creation, heart,
Form:
Rhyme
During the bloom of youth, in the spring of vitality,
Everything is sparkling and has a fresh, real quality.
Summer is the season of growth and rebirth in life,
Every day brings fresh dreams of conquering strife.
In the fall of life, it is time to slow back,
peace of mind and confidence—nothing we lack.
Autonomy and wisdom in winter arise,
It also soothes and reflects tears wiped by the eyes.
However, life continues beyond these seasons,
Each spirit is revived for the most sturdy reasons.
This is a calm fifth season and a bright first spring,
renewed, purified, and wearing a hedge ring.
If only the fifth season could be possible,
I am perplexed as to what this may be.
In the fifth season, would it be invisible?
Allowing a smile that you can see.
I do not require the new year to be happy,
For every post you write, I celebrate.
I do not lack gifts, as when the night is sappy,
since every word, you say is equally satiate.
Each of the four seasons is crammed into one,
A quantum season is a rush of momentum.
Alternatively, a bright or black hole in the sun,
What about the soul of your heart ramentum?
It was lauded in the fifth season above,
Breathe your last free sigh, since this is love.
The sky swirls up, and things are drawn in cursory,
It no longer observes its bereavement anniversary.
Can the brain be used to conceal this perspective?
Can time-beat insight and distance be effective?
Can faith that rises far above reason triumph?
Can love be a fifth season or a sly wood humph?
Written October 30, 2022
The Fifth Season Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Categories:
cursory, appreciation, beauty, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
A life that happened when we were not looking
Captured arriving as a digital image
A string of thoughts riding a bicycle
Pictured free-wheeling through a sunny day
Yet beneath the skin of a later vision
Rain tumbling from dark clouds
Caught even then
By a lens that was seeing for us
Signs of life dawdle between shuttering instances
There are visible gestalts – shadow dances
Of day-dreams passing-by
A mélange of cursory detachments
We mistook for a life
Bundles of lost moments
Left on the side of the road
As a life drove hastily on
Categories:
cursory, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
A simple note for your natal anniversary
Would be no more then simply just cursory.
Yes, a word or two to wish to you
A happy birthday just wouldn't do
So I simply wrote for you this little verse, you see?
Categories:
cursory, birthday,
Form:
Limerick
The anvil wallows on his heart
His dreams, trodden, alas depart
Pride triggers a cursory front
The fierce justification hunt
He steps to nowhere from the start
Categories:
cursory, loss, sad,
Form:
Quintilla
I wander down a cobbled street,
sodden from rain, heckled by whispers
revealing secrets on this blustery night.
They bewilder me in a surge of confusion
far beyond the juncture of cursory fright.
If this is collusion to drive me insane,
I beg deliverence from their echoing disdain;
Are these callous voices reality or delusion,
taunting me to plunge into depths of despair?
There is no hope of suturing my wounds,
or to eviscerate my harrowed heart.
If I could expunge them from my mind
would that ease the grief caused by the thief
who's bent on ripping my life apart?
Whispers are spilling from invisible lips.
How they tantalize me with false accusation.
My emotions are bereaved by the goading quips.
It's a conceived conspiracy of fallacious blather,
repeatedly mocking me in condemnation.
They've branded me with hot tongues they wield,
burning scars in my ears. Chars that will not heal.
If only I could douse memory's flames. I'm curious
to know if doing so would eliminate this torment.
My body is beaten, slashed by blades of driving rain.
Like shards of glass each raindrop cuts
my skin until blood seeps from the crux of my soul
and life drips away in scarlet flux.
I am wracked with sobs, prostrate with weeping.
And still the hissing voices berate me.
My head is pounding from their petition of jeers.
but I've no confession to give, nor act of contrition.
"Not guilty," I scream, but they won't let me be.
A vortex eddies around my bare feet
and my breathing grows shallow as whispers fade.
Dawn's warm fingers reach out to comfort me,
breaching the darkness on a cobble stone street.
June 25, 2018
8 word challenge-1.Fallacious 2.Eviscerate 3. Curious
4. Bewilder 5. Plunge 6. Tantalize 7. Vortex 8. Scarlet
John Hamilton~host
~~~~~~
Categories:
cursory, fear, grief,
Form:
Elegy
everywhere I try to walk
The cement is dirty
With the most outrageous talk
Slang here
F YOU's there
Mothers on the street
Obscenities everywhere
The thrill is lude
Trying hard to be rude
I am a Hyprocrite nitwit
it's so easy to conclude
The Cross around me
But my mouth needs some soap
Heckling and swearing
How can my ideology hope to cope
My own word
a cursory absurd
when will I sleep
and people stop calling me a nerd
Categories:
cursory, on writing and words,
Form:
Did oz turn its posterior, when Dorothy stole those ruby shoes?
Something over the rainbow’s smelling pretty ominous.
Opposites attract, like evil and good. a conflict’s brewing -
The west’s witch is rolling out her plans over a drag’n coffee.
The Rainbow Sun, reports a stirring, of the proverbial pot.
Manicure parlors and parades, shut down in Emerald City.
The horse of many colors has been dyed brown - his cover.
Wizard is wise, to the thievery ways of the “Jayhawker”.*
Glynda, “the goody goody”, sells lies like lemon drops,
And rainbow spectrum opposite, is “crazy” for green.
Dorothy, now “Dot”, begins a band called the “Polkadots”,
Promotion of forward movement, to take over Oz’s perimeter.
The “Ruby Shoe Movement”, an agenda to eradicate “good and evil”
Uses cursory verbiage, to rid the land of a “horde of witches” (two)
Flight line lights up, with soldier monkeys ready to attack.
Those who join the Kansan side, the Polkadots croon, while
“Rubyites” applaud, break out in rainbow song - waving banners.
The horse shakes his mane in dismay, a spy for the arcadians.
Amidst the Rubyites - a cowering lion, a heartless can of tin,
a befuddled scarecrow, and a toy dog. Excepting the dog,
All were acquired on the jaundiced road. It stretches between
The Emerald palace and the village of fisher price people.
Dot grew courageous, when she took a lucky shot;
She steered her cyclonic house, killing the witch of the east.
She swept the streets, greedily shaking hands with
Cheery munchkins. Pulled off the shoe heist like a pro.
Not a witch, she claims, but clicking the butane of her heels,
Catches oz by surprise, chaos ensues. “Get the balloon”,
The wizard blasts, “I will distract her and her Rubyite buffoons”
He sends them chasing after brooms in the gloom of night.
Fortune returns, delights in her prize – a melted wicked witch, and broom.
Henchmen throw weighted bags over Dot’s crew, retreating them back to Kansas
Categories:
cursory, humorous, imagination,
Form:
Couplet
for Prithwin
first
left downstroke
start from the top
plane out
let the long anchor tip roof-line curve sharply upwards
at the stern down-end
pile it in stuffed in the centre
leave the bottom open
that’s where the studded boot rightly fits
Over billowing transmuted waters
the haze lifts now and then
winds amber green waft and skim
with the late light caught shimmering
no albatross circles the mast
guilt is pure guilt without wanton arrows
there are no signs of land
but the proffered hand
the wanderer knows no words of his own
Reach - disgorge with your nails
Walls that concuss entrails
Can he yet placate asylum
echo the cluck of a poaching North American coot
nestling amidst Eurasian breeding reeds
taut bunching yarrow rushes
an embattled haven
against majestic swan ships
sleek velvety rich drake
peacockish barnacle goose
come in early from the cold
Let the dards of Orion spell syllables of ease
through the congested smudge of yore
contorted fantizi ideograms
cursory calligraphic long dripping brush strokes
pale to pinyin
Simplified
the exile gasps for instant phonemic breath
under choppy waves of stuttering tongues
racy blades
extirpate langue crucify parole
mix meaning into heady synaesthesiac brew
loss of face is a loss of noodles
develop equals hair
Could René Char’s Zeit Geist
have diagnosed the myna’s Kâla-Purusha
Reach – disgorge with your nails
Walls that concuss entrails
Resources
1. This poem has to do with a Bengali translator’s first encounter with René Char at his residence The French poet questioned his translator on the meaning of “le dard d’Orion” in
his poem: “Jeu muet”. The translator interpreted the phrase as having to do with
astronomy and thus rendered it as “kâla Purusha” (Zeit Geist or literally as in
Hindu mythology: the Primal Being at the beginning of time). René Char then
picked a certain variety of the cactus flower in his garden and said that the
French “phrase” applied to that particular flower.
2. The imagery in the poem also relates to the simplification of classical Chinese
characters (fantizi) by the Peoples Republic of China in the early fifties and the
alphabetisation of Chinese characters, known as “pinyin” as opposed to the Wade and Yale systems. The simplified characters produced certain semantic anomalies.
©T. Wignesan, Paris – May 3, 2009
Categories:
cursory, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
What I'm about to write may be offensive to some people
But I am absolutely appalled by what's happening at the Olympics
Men playing on women's teams concealed by their national dress
Not being discovered while undergoing a cursory examination
As incredulous as this may seem, it is happening
The true spirit of the Olympics has long been destroyed
By this “win at any cost” or “by any means” attitude
Once a big fan who took pride when my country achieved success
The true spirit of the games has become shrouded in controversy
Oh, how times have changed
© Jack Ellison 2014
Categories:
cursory, gender,
Form:
Narrative
you never know...
these breaths we breathe
may be our last
so let's linger over
this goodbye kiss and hold fast
a while more
no cursory peck barely
finding its mark
no air embrace
leaving no scent
no, let us linger over this kiss
and hold fast a while longer
these breaths we breathe
may be our last...
we never know
Categories:
cursory, love,
Form:
Free verse
FOND MEMORIES
My thoughts brown
Even though they’ve watered through a period
Of bloom
A period of greens
Not until when the final byes were said.
In my sofa I seek answers
Taking a cursory sweep down memory lane
When we sat laughed, danced and drank
Today all is but history
Save for the large frame on the wall
Telling me that you are very much with me.
In it I see your smiles,
Your feminine gait
So full of live
This is what keeps me alive
You will always remain part of my world.
Categories:
cursory, death, hope, love, me,
Form:
Free verse
What I'm about to write
May be offensive to some people
But I am absolutely appalled
By what's happened at the Olympics
Men playing on women's teams
Concealed by their national dress
Not being discovered
While undergoing a cursory examination
As incredulous as this may seem
It is happening the true spirit of the Olympics
Has long been destroyed by this
“Win at any cost” or “by any means” attitude
Once a big fan who took pride
When my country achieved success
The true spirit of the games
Has become shrouded in controversy
Oh how times have changed
True story
Categories:
cursory, abuse,
Form:
Free verse