Best Deference Poems
Quietude endows hushed mystical space
Admonishing words have no role to play—
Look how in solitude its posture bends
Bowing in deference to calming intellect.
Listen to the utterance of wailing heart
Where grieved voices subtly resonate
In stygian echoes of aches and pain
As bawl of mortal life kneels down to pray.
Touch of gifted hands magically illuminates
Enlightenment of soul’s secret message
Setting aside obtuse incredulous images,
Silencing the whims of infuriating regrets.
Glowing in epiphany of truths ornate
Emanating from the heart’s regal reign,
Voice of divinity in conquest reverberates
Winning decisively dissonant arguments.
Gaining wisdom of supreme knowledge,
Free from shackles of ordinary, mundane;
Revelations disarm the earthly laments
Basking in discovery of heavenly solace.
March 2, 2020
Poem of the week on March 8, 2020
Placed 1st: Picture prompt poetry contest
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Placed 2nd: Your Best Free Verse 2020 Poetry Contest
By John Hamilton
Categories:
deference, deep, endurance, introspection, peace,
Form:
Free verse
I wore popular shin high white boots,
The top in rage of disco dancing queens.
The Bee Gees were the utmost in the clan
The alter of quantifying demeans.
Revolutionary, the stance we took,
The freedom of iconoclastic paths
To justify rebellious avenues
That swayed the truth in plain objective wraths.
Our music was the strength we built upon.
To satiate an inward longing for
An understanding from our wings of youth
To dwell upon that which we needed more;
Our voices to be heard above the din
Of righteous antiquated old ideals
To sway the right of multi-media
Into the light of deference that’s real.
To end the Viet Nam war was a quest
Of Yuppies and of Hippies, both agreed,
A war of no beginnings or endings
Should dissolve hate for races to succeed.
A bracelet worn to honor POW's
Those lost in war whose bodies never found,
Embraced the sorrows that remain today
Of those lost souls sore buried in the ground.
The seventies are burnt upon my mind.
In vivid dreams of nonconformist ways.
I dwell upon the heroes giving grace
To rectify the military maze.
3-1-18
I absolutely could not pare this down to the required
20 lines for the contest, so it cannot be an entry.
Categories:
deference, fashion, grief, war,
Form:
Rhyme
Ethan lies upon my lap
in sweet and tender slumber.
This happens all throughout the day,
who can count the number?
I think he's shrewd and his time well used,
more clever than a fox.
Though doubt creeps in, he looks less keen
sitting in a box.
Eating spiders and swatting flies
to his heart's content.
But chasing birds and trapping mice
are the main event.
When by the door he makes his roar
yearning to be free.
But moments later the clamor starts
as he's stuck upside a tree.
There might be string or a piece of thread,
any length of twine.
He goes fuzzball crazy and his eyes get large
now impossible to confine.
To calm him down I know a trick
to alter Ethan's mood.
I go to the kitchen, open up the fridge
and show him there's more food.
Then there's Christmas where he finds our stuff,
a special time of year.
He's shredding presents and chasing lights,
with tinsel hanging from his rear.
I scratch his belly and brush his hair
at times of his own choosing.
With little deference I know for sure
his fealty I am loosing.
There are times when things go well,
I find myself with pride.
But people say... cats are Nature's way
to take the other side.
He lets me know I might lack merit
so he's not afraid to tell.
The thoughts I treasure and my Human worth,
he's eager to dispel.
There are moments when I adore that cat
when he's giving me a break.
His eyes show love as I melt within
even when it's fake.
There are four scratching posts and toys aplenty
that fill up every space.
But no matter what the mortgage says...
I'm living in his place.
The End
*For those who might be interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.
Categories:
deference, funny, humor, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Red soft velvet, forever in my mind,
purple and blue, every color of the rainbow.
White to near black emotional displays,
their meanings hidden in the multitude of their colors.
Once I shared my secret with you,
the flowers I see in people important to me,
the beautiful purple of the pea in bloom
and the mixed color of the cotton petals
that were my father, pragmatic, yet complex.
The rose when I was young, strong but gentle,
though watch her thorns, is my mother,
slowly fading to pastel carnation as she ages.
The lilies and violets came early and withered.
The friends of Japanese cherry and wild prim rose
are but fading and melting memories now.
Then there was my orchid so unique and beautiful,
always transforming from passionate red rose
to lovely tibouchina and phalaenopsis then dendrobium,
now dried and hidden away awaiting the breeze
to, ever so slowly, blow those colors from my life.
Such complexity are the associations I see.
Now, there are the flowers of you.
So many there are, the blue pansy in your eyes,
the glossy red anthurium of your lips,
the spider lily of your slim body and creamy skin,
plumeria and plumbago, azalea and moon flower
and the universe of colors and fragrances that are you.
Even when you are angry I see the toxic beauty
in the subtle white glow of your oleander rage.
I see you in every color of every flower,
the petals that fall from the dogwood trees,
the dancing hues of the crepe myrtles
as they playfully twirl on the evening breeze,
the perfume of the orange blossom and magnolia,
but, perhaps, I see most in you the simple elegance,
the bold unfading flower, the amaranth,
undying in its beauty yet humble in its nature,
always bowing its head in deference to others,
yet bold and strong with the everlasting beauty
that will always define you and never be forgotten.
03/05/2018
Categories:
deference, flower,
Form:
Free verse
I wonder as I wander
From head to heart to soul
If life is like an empty game
Or more, an empty goal
If passion is the price we pay
For pure and perfect peace
If people are the problem
Or the path to our release
For who I am and what I know
Is not what others see
When life is like a rocket ship
And no one cares but me
The path to my salvation
Is a long and winding road
But I am glad to make it
With an extra heavy load
The promise of a better life
Is part of who I am
The lesser peace of harmony
Is worthy of a clam
The urgency of living
Is a worthy fact to face
The silence of a shooting star
Is harder still to trace
The universe is full of those
Who buried on the shore
Gave deference to those who died
By living so much more
The story of eternity
Is written in your heart
The actor that you suffer long
Is waiting for a part
The soul that you should conquer
Is the hardest one to win
The restless dream within you
Is the place you should begin
But when you do remember
That discretion is your fame
The wiser part of virtue
Is the value in your name.
Categories:
deference, adventure, endurance, inspiration, wisdom,
Form:
Rhyme
Six steeple towers, cold as steel, drab daggers in the sky!
Their hallowed halls no longer call when breezes wander by –
for, filled with dread to wake the dead, they've ceased to sough or sigh.
Coiled candle sticks! Their twisted wicks no longer 'lume the cracks
with dying flame, subdued and tame, mid pendant pearls of wax,
since deference to innocence dissolved in molten tracks.
Above! The dismal ditch of dusk reveals a velvet streak,
through which the winter’s wicked winds will sometimes weave and sneak,
and faraway a cable sways, a bridge clings hushed and bleak.
Thin shadows shift, like silver shafts, across the cruel moraine
reflecting white a wisp of light in ebon beads of bane
which casts a crooked smile across a faceless window pane.
Wan neon lights glow through the nights, through darkness sleek as slate,
while lanterns (hovered, high above, in lurid swinging gait),
haunt ballrooms, bars and bare bazaars, though no one's there to fete.
The souls who come with jagged tongue won't sing a silent psalm,
nor paint pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor pray for mercy, grace deferred, nor beg lethean balm,
nor yet redress the emptiness that shifting shades embalm –
they've seen, you see, life’s brevity, and face it with aplomb.
Categories:
deference, death, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Of all old friends, those we have of old are best;
These the souls we travel with by preference,
Theirs the spirits to whom we grant all deference.
Their hopes are ours, ours their own;
All victories shared, from like ambitions grown.
Their years match step with ours,
Show like passage of the hours,
Silent steps of Time with which our lives are sown.
They are moved as we are moved;
Troubled and pleased by like turns of Fate,
We pass through one another's gates
Into rooms where loyalty is proved
By ties of woven sympathies,
By bonds no outsider sees.
By bonds no outsider sees
We tie ourselves to those who share
The pithy heart of all unspoken cares,
The shadows that would dim our days
If no one shared our private ways,
If none there were to let us know
The fitness of the face we dare not show;
The old friend nods and quietly stays
Close by our side when mere acquaintance leaves,
Unashamed to share our darkest inner night;
Awaits with us the slow return of light.
The old friend trusts and faithfully believes
The tales we tell ourselves of joy or sorrow,
Looks to yesterday and forward to tomorrow.
Looking back to yesterday. forward to tomorrow,
We walk with them through the wilderness of living
Thankful for their presence and forgiving,
As do we, the flaws that mark our human bounds
Ignoring discordant notes that sound
From time to time in all the narrative
We build to define our days and give
Form and substance to the constant rounds
Of night to day and day to night,
Our mutual progress towards Eternity,
The approaching dark we do not wish to see
Unless in company with the comforting light
Of well-earned close companionship,
Of sympathetic souls who join us on the trip.
Seeking truths wherein the brave heart delves,
We guide each other through dwindling days
To face the world, to learn its ways,
Its cruelties and its beauties shared
Both the better for each time we dared
To question this, our common Lot:
To Be, awhile, and then to Not.
So we share all we have got
To fill our time, to weave our lives.
Without old friends, the path is drear and long,
Where goes but one to compose the song
To tell of what we were, and how we strived
To rescue Sense from Folly, all the rest;
Of all friends, those we have of old are best.
Categories:
deference, day, friend, heart, old,
Form:
Crown of Sonnets
oh dear heaven ...
how impeccant …
how subtly innocent and eager!
are you truly as oblivious as you seem?
oh, I am sure of otherwise …
or would there not be so much unsullied skin laid bare -
so few garments that thus adorn the masterpiece?
utter innocence, burning in the motion of your stride ...
a fortuitous feast of flames for the common!
the gods themselves feign deference to such fair symmetry,
and barter the heavens for but a grace of your shadow -
you are pristine virtue, annotated ...
you are torturous fare for the plain and fallow,
and envy for even the inimitable …
innate sensuality trickles from your feathery brow
to your Lilliputian toes, (painted bubblegum pink),
tracing an unblemished dermal landscape
that any hormone-hewn human would consider a dream destination …
you exude a connate allure, inexplicable,
enchanting even the stars -
sky weeping in exquisite anguish for sake of your fluid movement,
saucy, exposed hips,
tossed with coy yet libidinous intent,
their immaculate and fluid rhythm
catching in chests like a cardiac event,
pulling the breath from lungs around you like taffy,
(and not returning without discerned effort),
every gaze in your line swinging in matched tempo,
stupefying all within your affect ...
a mass hypnosis inspired by your walk alone -
ponytail braid and pink ribbon sway in opposite tempo,
adding to the sassy attitude …
eyes, pure white arctic spheres
with polished onyx centers,
set to possess the soul, should they find your focus …
faultless, blue-white smile,
framed by sugar plum lips, shaped to perfect bows ...
oh dear heaven!
such resplendent rapture should they whisper your name!
such divine intoxication should those eyes affix yours!
the gods themselves are weeping wonder ...
the gods themselves!
* SECOND PLACE in the "Free Verse On Love" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. *
Categories:
deference, appreciation, beauty, metaphor, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Poetry on trial?
I’m going to indict poetry, for infecting my soul
Does it serve any purpose, or has it lost control
This may seem quiet strange, perhaps unorthodox
Peruse this if you will, whilst it’s head layeth on the block
No need for a foundation, build it in the clouds
But it does require structure, interwoven by shrouds
Mocks me with Humpty Dumpty, as my life falls to bits
Sends me down a path, of bifurcation and twists.
Yes poetry is stealthy, it attacks from every side
Attempting to outflank you, then pounces in surprise
Soon levity returns, it wants to chill you out
Where did this come from, shaketh your head in doubt.
Bow before it in deference, or leap into the sky
Cut to pieces on razor wire, see the birds that flyeth by
Pit Romeo and Lothario, in a competition of charms
Find a new born baby, dead in its mother’s arms.
Send shivers down ones spine, Hairs stand on your neck
Deal out a winning hand, then rearrange the deck
Be a photon of light, amongst trillions on our sun,
Reminisce ole times, when life beheld such fun.
Be scarred by it’s violence, Drawn into the mystique,
Blown away by the punchline, The havoc it can wreak
Drown in melancholy, or bathe in its delight
Overcome tragic heartbreak, awestruck by it’s might.
Empathize with the poor, in their cornucopia of dirt,
Curse the wealthy no better, in their hubris of self-worth,
Surrounded by loved ones, on your terminal breath,
Then Cryo-frozen in a machine, trying to forgo death.
So yes I’ve tried poetry, it was given a fair trial
Now to pass sentence, and do so, with some style
I condemn it to life, with no chance of parole
Simultaneously I grant pardon, for it’s me who lost control.
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
deference, allegory, confusion, depression, emotions,
Form:
Couplet
If you desire your friendships to be only "Top Shelf",
Don't expect things of others you don't ask of yourself ...
Relationships that last - where time stands the test,
Travel rivers of respect that flow east AND west ...
Most folks don't mind doing what you ask them to do,
As long as it's something that you'd ask of YOU ...
The sure way of knowing that there's no disconnect,
Is to make sure you're allowing for bilateral respect ...
For when you give others the deference they've earned,
It's a pretty good gamble that you'll rarely get burned ...
But even when you DO, the good karma is yours,
So say your farewells ... and sail for friendlier shores!
~ 6th Place ~ in the "New Poems Only - 2 Friendship" Poetry Contest, Emile Pinet, Sponsor.
Categories:
deference, appreciation, friendship, wisdom,
Form:
Couplet
It's really not so terrible,
This thing of growing old.
I don't have to mind my manners
Nor do what I've been told.
No one seems to care about it
If I break a few short rules.
I can say that I'm too old now,
To tolerate the fools.
I can wear the brightest colors
Red and yellow, both at once.
Because I'm old, folks smile and don't
Assume that I'm a dunce.
I can even hug young fellows
Without fear of seeming bold.
No it's not too inconvenient,
This process of growing old.
In deference to my age, most folks
I meet are quite polite.
If I forget a thing or two,
They say that it's alright.
At my age, there's not much difference
Between the rich and poor.
We can't take it with us, money's
Not important any more.
Please don't feel sorry for me
Nor believe the things you're told.
It's not the end of living
Just because you're growing old.
By: Joyce Johnson
Categories:
deference, funny
Form:
Light Verse
oh dear heaven ...
how impeccant
how subtly innocent and eager
are you truly as oblivious as you seem?
oh, I am sure of otherwise
or would there not be so much unsullied skin laid bare -
so few garments that thus adorn the masterpiece?
utter innocence, burning in the motion of your stride ...
a fortuitous feast of flames for the common
the gods themselves feign deference to such fair symmetry
and barter the heavens for but a grace of your shadow
you are pristine virtue, annotated ...
you are torturous fare for the plain and fallow
and envy for even the inimitable
innate sensuality trickles from your feathery brow
to your Lilliputian toes, (painted bubblegum pink)
tracing an unblemished dermal landscape
that any hormone-hewn human would consider a dream destination
you exude a connate allure, inexplicable
enchanting even the stars -
sky weeping in exquisite anguish for sake of your fluid movement
saucy, exposed hips
tossed with coy yet libidinous intent
their immaculate and fluid rhythm
catching in chests like a cardiac event
pulling the breath from lungs around you like taffy
(and not returning without discerned effort)
every gaze in your line swinging in matched tempo
stupefying all within your affect ...
a mass hypnosis inspired by your walk alone
ponytail braid and pink ribbon sway in opposite tempo
adding to the sassy attitude
eyes, pure white arctic spheres
with polished onyx centers
set to possess the soul, should they find your focus
faultless, blue-white smile
framed by sugar plum lips, shaped to perfect bows ...
oh dear heaven
such resplendent rapture should they whisper your name
such divine intoxication should those eyes affix yours
the gods themselves are sobbing ...
the gods themselves.
Categories:
deference, appreciation, beauty, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Do not seek or chose to find,
correction in another’s mind;
When at the heart of all, we know;
enlightenment comes from what we sow.
To criticize or correct ourselves is for the best
since others seldom can surmise the simplest jest.
In deference to said life so roughly hewn
‘tis the clown that earns heavenly boon.
For the gift of lucidity is rare without calamity
and few honorifics abound for those who claim sanity.
Categories:
deference, education, introspection, philosophy
Form:
Didactic
Juliet
If perchance that thou should dance.
Twould be the light fantastic,
Hath no power in deference,
Might death, if called, be askance,
Thy breath be sweet,
Julia bequeathes, requites,
Unholy, mist of passion,
perchance to bride claim, yet myself,
olde English takes a lashing
Don Johnson 16-july-11
Categories:
deference, lost love
Form:
Blank verse
legions …
of shadowed purpose
they rattle the parapets of my flesh
morning paints the
stark reality that lays like shards of
tea-stained saucers before me …
an iniquitous army of intent
poised to scale the ramparts of
all I’ve bargained and built
those sordid soldiers hold no
deference for me
there is no honor in the garlands they
drape upon this aged castle,
only thorns of a sinister, vile vine
that wrap and wring me like
the fingers of a god without its heaven …
or its hell …
pray -
how should I lend charity to this day?
what compromise awaits?
I pluck pixies of pure shimmer from the
swaying, salted sea-tops
then cast them to my dungeons
like feed flung to fowl …
perhaps they’ll burgeon there
and I’ll use their bright to
decorate the walls -
garish graffiti to greet the ghosts -
an epitaph for the best of
my epic epigrams …
I pine still for the latent lass that met my
passions amidst these dunes
that seared my soul with her eyes
late-day sun melting within -
my hands reading her body like Braille
oh the poetry written there …
she was the moat, you see -
the beautied barrier around my dreams
we built this citadel together
raised its bulwarks here
dune grass, the only witness to the
bittersweet love made
but for one Burberry plaid blanket
laid out on the sand
that eager haste, our sole foundation
and the crumbled promises and vows I now
see scattered about me
the lonely, aching ruins
of a fortress …
fallen.
Categories:
deference, analogy, lost love, memory,
Form:
Free verse