Best Daunts Poems
Oh souls that brave All Hallow's moon
whose shadowed face would bid us swoon.
We stare upon your ghostly veil
a-flight on twilight's empty trail.
And yet, we delve where darkness daunts
to fathom mystery, know what haunts
our souls when comes October-tide,
where fear and anguish both abide.
Each hidden passage, road or rill
we spy while walking makes us chill.
Gray shadow wings on ghostlike trees
make heart and footsteps quickly freeze.
All pathways lead where horrors thrill.
The heart is numbed as is our will.
Frail steps draw close toward the lair
where phantom talons might ensnare.
How long until we're safely home
free of this mental catacomb?
These questions spin within our head
as we trek fully gripped by dread.
How do souls flee such grievous fright?
Oh moon, postpone our dreadful plight.
Deliver us to warmth and home
from black enigmas in the gloam.
Make every moment count...
this is the promise I make to myself,
to deny the certainty of death:
an assumption stripped of all reality;
and it daunts others, not me...
as long as I get that glimpse of eternity!
Be an essential part of the living:
sharing, giving, reveling, grieving and forgiving...
instead of rebelling against society,
and fighting against an invisible adversary;
but if your aspirations
are the strenght of your goals
everything takes on a new meaning,
even making your story worth-telling!
Make every moment count
by being clever and not indignant;
never live by pride and greed,
or expect a bountiful return...
when nothing is being achieved,
and praise can't be earned!
Be of a keen mind and love patiently...
revive a broken spirit with the kindest word,
and reduce your worries to nothing:
and though the world's vanities cannot be changed,
make an effort to have your voice heard;
what is torn down sadly...can also be built up happily!
Make every moment count
and ignore the ticking of the clock,
to let awareness guide you through anticipation;
time is like roses with thorns:
it pokes you and makes you bleed,and unless
you show meekness and sympathy,
it won't hit you low...but grant you victory!
That rule was begging to be broken
Y’know the one about women?
Of conformity for cat calls and
Gift wrapped shoulders and legs?
How about “no” to breastfeeding
How about “whore” for “too revealing”?
I’m sick of these notions, it’s too unappealing.
I am a nonconformist of a woman
The one that daunts you in your wake.
Come at me with your “don’t”s for women
I’ll show you my scars of everyday crusades.
I’ve battled tirades of piercing tongues
Of sharp fingers engraved into skins
I’m supposed to be hidden beneath them
Because I walk like i’m a woman
Because I walk like a human being
But I stomp these woman feet of mines
To tell you “That ain’t gonna be me”
Nor will it be any woman in this world
‘Cause that rule was begging to be broken
When this woman marched for gender equality.
I am more than a menace to society
There’s a twist in my sobriety
Please help me sculpt my destiny
Help me return to incorruptibility
Why do I believe Google not your holy book?
Why do I trust the teacher not the parent?
Why do I have faith in the label not the quality?
Why do I confide in counselors not my spouse?
Strangers become closer than siblings
Democracy daunts more than dictatorship
Price becomes more important than value
Which God do I praise and worship?
Who is the custodian of my conscience?
Who is the guardian of my scruples?
Who is the protector of my principles?
Who is the curator of my values and visions?
What if all that I know turned out false?
What if we were wrong about everything?
What if we weren’t who we thought we were?
What if infinity and zero were vice versa?
I struggle to tell her this truth,
I consult with her pleasing smile.
Woe is a world where flaws exist,
As stains breed until flavors amend.
She hears me mince through fearful smarm,
Pandora hopes she leaves this peek alone.
A whim which daunts a doting kiss,
My muse weeps with this ugly breath.
If her heart breaks then mine will too,
She deserves a sweet little lie.
...........................................................
Contest Entry: A Special Secret
Sponsor: Lewis Raines
October trees, they sway in the wind
A tangerine tango that taunts the tinges
October leaves, they swirl in the breeze
A vermilion whirligig that vaunts the whispers
October hues, they swagger the mind
A rubicund rollicking that haunts the shadows
October scenes, they sweep the heart
A garnet gambol that daunts the artists
October skies, they swarm the soul
A titian twinkle that flaunts God’s blessings
09.30.2021
For Regina McIntosh's "October" contest
Afraid of a mirror
that daunts you with horror?
What's your fear
of not looking
and admitting
you have a funny ear?
Fretted to look into a mirror
that won't suggest
the word " Beauty? "
I anticipate your anger
and unpleasant words that
won't change reality!
Afraid of a mirror
that hangs on your bathroom wall?
Make believe it's a crystal ball...
don't create useless terror!
Not everyone is
born beautiful and healthy
and has a perfect body...
why blame it on your genes?
Be beautiful in your own way,
enjoy your spotlight and shine today!
"Twillight"*
A 'Swan' in town
can be found on
school ground --that's me
bored and off qi
rain daunts me --'till
I see him there...
can't help but stare
his eyes glare --so
aware...I thirst!
©deborah burch
4/10/2012
_________________________________________
*inspired by the book/movie: "Twilight"
Form: than-bauk
Grass growth in the cove
where Larry's boat sat
years after Larry’s ash
whirled with rocks in space
daunts the pickerel:
silently galloping glut
challenges the channel.
Someday soon there may be
no seeing through it
to the bottom of things.
This soft encroachment,
a green disease born
of fertilized lawns
and hangers on
from other lakes brought
here by alien crafts
may arrest fluidity
with an embodiment
as solid as a moral
but as dead as Monday’s church.
Will we hear the hard lake
crack or will that be
Larry’s heart? Fossils
Gouged from cliff sides
and PA road cuts
taught the geologist
that all things will pass.
But the lover of Maine
rain-gauged statistics
to say, “Not so fast!
“Slow down! Not so fast.”
Take heart Larry, and I
will strive to join you:
your great-grandson
Parker loves the land
you left for all of us.
He is diving into things
and spying out hydrilla
with a water glass.
There are stairs that I climbed
Obscure and vague
Stars shown in the darkness
Not a cloud in the sky
And I climbed toward the blue cloud
Angels peeped and watched silently
A place called dreamland lay sublime
Not our place, but another quite unusually divine
While ascending she bit an apple and smiled
The spirit seemed twisted, not right, she implied
Fingers signally, “Come hither.”
Ignoring the voices, I moved forward
They were dim, not bright as Elysium’s promise
But while I traveled, they sought to distract my flight
Again, moving away, as best one could
They grabbing my shins and touching my hair
Spit, from the apple, drooling, she glared
Provoking my thoughts, Succubus dared
The chasms before reaching the blue cloudy space
Yelled and screamed demanding their voice
Steadying and sober moving way past their daunts
They got angrier and madder, as I progressed
It seemed forever my flight on the escalator divine
Screaming to close to my ears and eyesight
And once I learned how to ignore their threats
Their screams dissipated and my fears regressed
And Elysium’s doorway opened when I turned away
She then welcomed me with endearing arms that day
©2015 Bonnie G Jennings All Rights Reserved
Nights spent, drenched in fear
Knives available, pills in abundance
Weight of the world, shoulders bear too much
Journey's end is close, any further, too far
Will buckles again, giving up once more.
Dreams revisit reality, rest does not restore
Eyes staring into darkness, a host without a soul
Stutters return to words, chaos is difficult to hide
Conscious of every action, comfort far away
Victories have no count, losses accumulate.
Waking up, a valueless effort
Routine leaves little surprise, monotony appreciated
Eating is too much, the thought of chewing daunts
Threads around flesh, a cure so swift
Forgiveness asked at length, a knot undone.
Back to a room, a cell with comforts
Finding means to harm, part of the process
Seek out distractions, pain can be such
Veins pronounce life, when its opposite is craved
Fallen soldier, the war was never external.
The sun descends, time to try again
Insomnia is not true, mental anguish unsettles
Adulthood was sought, sorrow discovered
Seduced by permanence, a last breath known
The minute is final, engrave it on a stone.
Fate's hand write the play
Every soul ought to play by its way;
It taunts the strong till they battle and yield
and daunts the weak to beg and plead;
Alliteration
By Franklin Price
6/26/2105
Alliteration alludes alliance
Defeats deductive daunts defiance
Connects constructive conjugation
Needs a niche nice new libation
Poets possibly pen prime prose
Never neglect nor need to know
Poor people perfectly pronouncing please
Nine nimble ninnies on knobby knees
Fabulous fiction fantastic facts
Anchors altering adjusting acts
Elusive elves eliciting verbs
Babbling bumblers bubbling blurbs
Nonsensical nuance nearly nice
Needs neural knowledge naughty spice
These thoughts try timely to titillate
Greatly gregarious not just gigantically great
A fetus being nurtured
within a mother's womb.
Ready to experience life
and indulge in all of life's
pleasurable moments.
Eager to endure everything
that was once endured vicariously.
Now from the first person.
A life so precious and innocent.
What will become of it?
Live life for the horror or the glory.
Many phases of life to entertain.
Each to become a chapter within the story.
Once infantile.
Yearning for attention
and endless care.
Through the magic times of childhood
when life is nothing but a fairy tale.
To the adolescent phase
where you see reality for what it is.
You see the happy endings
often fail to prevail.
Accept the fate like it's no mistake.
Happiness is never granted.
More give and take.
Through maturity you realize
everything in life is like symbolism.
Those methapors become your religion.
All by which you live by.
Merciless time trickles down
in the essence of death.
Until limited hours are all that is left.
Then old age daunts
and you are mentally wise.
Your world is tarnished with mere remains
and dirt is thrown upon your grave.
And you're peacefully rested
upon your demise.
Free Verse : Translation of Paul Verlaine’s Vers Libres
(Yet another possible translation of Paul Verlaine’s « Vers Libres » by T. Wignesan, though I prefer in my translations not to derange the visual structure and syntactical and linear layout – with some exceptions - of the poem)
I admire the ambition Free Verse invokes
And me, what do I do at the moment
My attempts to derange the equilibrium evokes
The number of syllables only by two rhythms rent
It’s true I count myself among these syllable counters
And rimers, a sin for which I well know
How sorely it drags and how heavily it clutters
Yet something intrinsic to our French art’s glow.
Otherwise it remains submerged in poetry,
Since the language is oblivious to accent.
What can you do there ? And wild fantasy
Here loses its rights : riming is of the moment.
That Free Verse’s ambition haunts
Youthful brains venturing to take risks !
Such passion for a dear illusion daunts
One cannot but smile at alienating mistakes.
Frisky foals which go gamboling over the green
Manifesting their sincere nature dear !
Insane they might be but at their age - supreme,
Truely fetching, Free Verse tempts us here !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013