Best Demarcation Poems
........conversation.................
Grammaticus LongWindyGust
"...I'm a Lime too..." said his mind.
Her voice in time, came through.
It's the base of her name, he knew true
as he proclaimed in a loud verse,
that he's a duck too...
"Regulus they aim to rewrite us"
demarcation of the strat.Osiris
...they can't be serious? On papyrus?
"... to train the faithful..."
so the Fremen.taught.us
"... tell me of your homeworld, sulu..."
Shades of the grey in a bow.
The sun...
"...Hadrian, had I not run..."
cycles time, the route of one
"...my Duke Let.go...
and I am. Awaken..."
In the List of Tribes Anonymous
is a kiss from a Cat.Coalaborus
labor of the Hola!sTree.Us.
"...at times you felt notorious..."
I'm of the Proud, Lion.
My watchful eye is first of four on.
A formation, creation not of abrasion
but of rhyme, and my name is Sound.
"... take care the deer,
near the sill of my ground..."
An odd.long.story, from a curly mound
;)
inspiration: Vomiticus Grammaticus--Ground Zero
All newborns move from womb to crib;
and toddlers leave the floor to play in yards.
Most youngsters go from home to school,
learning a new milieu some with ease.
Our kids both young and old contend with space.
While teens assemble, needing gangs and groups,
our college students age as they leave home.
The forest’s edge expands with chills and thrills.
Advancing purlieu dawns on us
the outskirts of our lives change over time.
The empty nest can normalize our lives
as we accept each demarcation line.
With marriage, having children need not stunt
our passage if we've learned our lessons well.
We welcome flux and look forward to tomorrow.
Grandkids will start the cycle anew.
Agendas set; when of necessity
we must retreat, forest calls us back,
we think goodbye, adieu slowed our bearings down.
In lieu of serving others, we now dread
being waited-on by younger souls
who'll take their mental notes. An empty nest
just helps pull the curtains on our clock and stage.
thoughts lick at my consciousness
distracting me from the warm embrace
of the colour pallet unfolding
I stare with myopic eyes at the kaleidoscope
endeavouring to discern the demarcation
of the edge of each shade
naming them as though they are listed on a colour chart
displayed at the local hardware store
but as soon as I have one splash of tint pinned down
it fades to be replaced by a more pleasing explosion of colour
a child’s toy impatiently twirled
a rainbow snipped into a multitude of shapes
in never to be repeated patterns
like an uxorious husband
it enfolds the evening sky in its loving embrace
its fleece soft fingers exploring
lulled into a unison of consent
with a barely perceptible rush of contentment
a slight sibilant sigh issues
memorialising daylight
clinging to the fringes of observation
the scene depicts its titular character
of moral decay
the riparian area jealously guards its supremacy
as hydrophilic plants are robbed of their splendour
in a final display of defiance
alluvial fans buffet against the offing
recombobulating
the natural order of Chaos:
The Great Deep of ancient mythology
I stroll a silvered landscape
where trees are silhouetted spears,
stabbing memories of days first walked with you . . .
ice traceries, firey strands of longing lace,
wrap the crumbling dream,
like brittle, curling tinsel from childhood holidays.
A burning stream of cold tumbles seaward,
dislodging jagged stones, desire and disgust;
wounding barren feet.
Backward . . .
I trace pink-tinged footprints
along the line of demarcation
where love once gamboled in innocence
before the moon capitulated
and collapsed into the sea.
Lovely she was, but she is no more.
Copyright August 3, 2018
Your father is neither dead nor is he sleeping.
He has traversed the thin line of demarcation
Into a marvelous dimension of safe-keeping,
Consider it a marvelous realm of preparation
For what we earthlings refer to as eternity,
An exciting adventure into the vast unknown
Frightening, our limited concepts of infinity,
Where true being-ness in never outgrown,
The gracious Almighty sits on the throne.
No end to the delights of the ultimate reality
To this place your father has quickly flown
Where he shall experience no law of gravity,
Beyond all fantasies of human expectation
Where no longer is one exposed to weeping,
We might think of it as an awesome vacation
Your father is neither dead nor is he sleeping.
Written June 18, 2022
[utilizing my own verso-rhyme]
sylvia
***this concerns several books I once owned.
Some were written by Rod McKuen, others by
Richard Brautigan, others by others…***
i discovered that words are
like some decadent dessert
too small to cause harm but too big
to have a second helping
in the margins of tattered books
were scribbled lines i hoped to someday share
with someone who still had tears in her eyes
from last night’s disappointment
for years i had filled my bible margins
with illegible scribbling
some printed words i had crossed out and rewritten
but never those of rod mckuen
or the bible
today i grew older simply by watching
days roll in like a warm ocean breeze
waves taste the sand so slowly
and so it is with rod mckuen
but he was going nowhere
in his rush to cross over some
imaginary line of demarcation
i once owned many books
hundreds aligned to make room to make room
imaginary for new things to be pushed aside
i’m still yearning for a phone booth
where i can make a call for two bits
i’ll always wonder if maybe
i had called sylvia plath if she would have answered
there was no need
her answer had already preceded the question
© tolbert
Nature of Life
Are you able to discriminate
between living and inanimate?
Can you draw definite line of demarcation
displaying ‘Life’ and ‘No-Life’ distinction?
Is there any boundary which
non- living can never reach?
Beyond that can life originate,
spread, flourish and terminate?
Earth, Air, Water, Sun: so-called non-livings
are responsible to initiate living beings.
Senses are hidden in inanimate more or less
to be shown by life in continuous process.
Microbes show little sense; plants show better sense.
Animals in full sense and humans in conscience.
In Nature, eternal chain of life cycle continuous flowing
through inanimate, microbes, plant, animal, human being.
05/15/16
SPRING STANDARD CONTEST by Brian Strand
The Jackal's line of demarcation ye souls' furlough for interim...
Today, cockcrows perturb in a gala thrice for thee quiescent stay,
God's Park of Ephemera, sashays the daggled the minder harks,
a chest not in to rest, of dais edicts, cudgels so contagious;
haughty wheels peddle rashly between two havocked hearts,
foisting wintry fobs of progeny pleating to let pigeons exeunt,
if bedlam trotting by pothers ye, the cob, yet calmly sings,
"Fare-thee-well, Oh snowflake in dwindle, hallow me next spring,
via crepuscules, cleaved like vacant aulas crescendo conveyance,
wholly abutting city lights, this chimney calling cannot sight!"
Jolly pedestrians twinge at our capitol! Touring a mindful chance,
Ample of verve, knowing mortuary amblers must get their fight!
"Fountains, thawing ye? Janitor, what does the blind really see?"
tryst squelch time, squirm squander squalors n' ante antiquated feet,
Jocund or beh£s belief! Ye! Behind bellicose belletrists by beggars!
When baubles full-fledged, hast consummated thee to hobnob no more,
jongleur sloshed anchors on mimes bare laid laic stoolie, loupe aims,
Headmost, request lasting breaths above broadcasting fortune n' fame,
Then fated fires the Sniper jostles from home to goad n' prod,
Ye kindred stanchion and I, skimmed, the sunset even with me...
After the election,
at least two things will continue without interruption: death and taxation.
After the election,
two kinds of people, the rich and the poor, will remain without interruption.
After the election,
I will continue to pray, to go to church, and keep writing new poems and stories.
After the election,
I'm not going to cry, worry, or fret over bad news or old stories.
After the election,
whether by mail, the internet, or bank drafts, bills will be due without hesitation.
After the election,
Airlines, hotels, and car rentals, will still expect us to make a reservation.
After the election,
College tuition will not be free, but young people will continue their education.
After the election,
Both winners and losers will continue their complaints and frustrations.
After the election, there will be less affection, but it’s unlikely there will be any defection.
After the election,
States will remain united, and none will decide to declare secession.
Although, after the election,
it’s possible there might be some new revelations.
However, after the election,
‘Trust me’, no Politian is likely to face any incarceration.
After the election,
The politicians will continue going in different directions.
After the election,
some will lick their wounds while others will have a celebration.
After the election,
Neither party will be any closer to perfection.
After the election,
No American soil will show lines of demarcation.
After the election,
There’ll be no need for ex-candidates to have better protection.
And finally, after the election, while Politicians will appear to be problem-solving, citizens will continue their own problem-solving without hesitation. 11032018 PS Contest, After The Election, Kim Rodriques
I am not a violent person
in any physical way,
but if love were a fight
I would fight you this day.
If love were a fight,
I would fight you all night
under twinkling stars
by the full moon light.
If love were a fight
I would fight you near the Ocean,
where the rolling weaves
are poetry in motion.
I would fight you in the depths
of the deep blue sea.
As your lover,
I would fight you
for every moment
you spend with me.
If love were a fight
I would fight you in the desert,
as twilight sets fire
to the sun baked sands,
I would fight you
across the mountain tops,
I hope you understand.
That I will never tire in my desire,
nor will I seek any rest.
Fore I will give it my all,
and fight you
with my last breath.
If love were a fight
I would show no mercy,
give no quarter,
respect no time line
demarcation or border.
I would kick Godzilla in the knees.
Call Goliath a punk.
Resurrect Houdini
and leave him
trapped in a trunk.
If love were a fight,
there is no limit
to what I would do.
But I would thank God,
I'm fighting with you.
My Love
I love you much, my love, therefore I beg you
Give me that which till today, nobody have asked you
Don’t puzzle, I hope, you’ll help me in this regard
Best beloved and well wishers have supplied essentials
Of lovers always if we turn back too pages of history
Don’t worry; I'm not hurting you demanding your life
Your assets, requires you much rather than to me
I don’t care darling what other guys evaluate upon my asking
Because I don’t see more valuable things than that
Which can easily, you can offer me
Even it doesn't hold any cost just some dedications
Which till today no one has dared to offer?
I love you heartily so I want to take stand in this regard
Projecting out as if in the hill some inscriptions in ridges
To draw the attraction of demonstrators
Don’t afraid, I’m not wishing you to make you show piece
To others at you or my cost, you’re my every thing
Why should I believe you in that easy way?
Definitely my intuition invokes me from within
You will offer me that instinct for my pleasure
Cause, I've noticed in your bright appearance
Deliverance of love is in different mode
Your juvenile desiring to oblige somewhere in the custom
I believe, as we are reared in the same village
In the same brink of the river.
Many times we have rained with completely
Our cows and herds also could not differ them
Swollen brooklets have helped us to unite body
Catching in hand hugging you and adding your body with mine
While crossing you know we used to become one
You can guess your feeling would have crossed the height of Himalayas
To understand, what body wants to be done?
Your drowned eyes and dropping down drops of water
Used to provoke effort
Beyond that down through the throat, running paths for drenched water
Was explicitly witness, the curved part would be seizing more for that
As a trunk of elephant’s those beautiful thighs
Used to give witnessing purity ascribe for judgement of love
Slowly, crossing plain, stepping towards hills and
Demarcation of two grassy lanes, when used to welcome
To separate, I know my pinches would cleave you
With high breathe. My love, I love you, I confirmed my decision to you.
Our beloved armed forces
In the US - of - A,
Are resigned in full measure
To the prices they pay.
When they fall, most are given
Due honor and fame,
But a few get NO laurels,
No prestige or acclaim.
They not only pay
The ultimate price,
But honor is silent
For their brave sacrifice.
These choice few contend
With a war unperceived,
With no hills to be taken,
No objectives achieved.
The battles they fight
Are hard to define,
Without demarcation,
With no thin red line.
They do what is asked
With inappreciable thanks,
Despite all the heroes
That make up their ranks.
Their work can be risky,
And quite often dire,
Yet they willingly jump
Straight into the fire.
And when their assignments
Are all said-and-done,
They bring home no glory
Or grandeur, not one.
Not they or their loved ones
Can discuss all they gave,
For the land of the free,
And the home of the brave.
And those that are taken
By Grim's mortal call,
Are thereafter naught ...
But a STAR on the wall.
Yet for them that's enough,
That wall and that star,
For it represents all
That they honor and are.
And if serving their homeland
Means that their life is lost,
Then our freedom and safety,
Is to them, worth the cost.
They answered their country's
Preeminent call,
Now they're stars up in Heaven,
Watching over us all.
Now that,
Under age's snow-covered summit
I stand,
Just
Under eternity's demarcation line,
I still hope,
A few snowflakes of wisdom to harvest
Before
The moment, my soul's soaring comes,
Obeying
To the Lord's celestial command!
(C) Demetrios Trifiatis
05 October 2015
THE ANNIHILATION OF UKRAINIANS
Kyrie was struggling to overcome barriers of demarcation.
“Holodomor” she was facing.
This artificial famine was brutally taking Ukrainians lives.
In nineteen hundred and twenty-nine, the manifestation of human hate crimes would be a terrorist regime.
The screens Kyrie would experience would became life threatening.
“Death by hungry” was in all eyes.
Eighty years has passed.
Soviet Joseph Stalin’s massacre transpired.
From nineteen hundred and thirty-two thru nineteen hundred and thirty-three the Soviet regime took seven million lives.
Kyrie and her brother. Allah. was blessed to survive.
The story is her father died early on.
Her mother walked far to find food.
She would exchange her earnings and a gold pendant she wore on her dress just for a sack of flour and nothing else.
She formed the flour into a loaf of bread, which tasted liked grass.
Tears forms knowing this was all her and her children had.
Wretchedness it is to know that too many peopled did not have anything
at all to eat.
To genocide was an atrocity.
A silent wasteland of God’s people must be exposed.
Ukrainians today discloses.
_________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 25, 2014!
Third Reign:
Her feeding heart and cold command
Enough to make you quit your band
Well, there’s only so much frostbite one can take
You’ve heard her bitter orders before
To leave your sandals outside her door
And go skating on the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
I’d save all my lovin’ for you
If only I knew what you would do:
Let me loose or condemn me at your frozen stake
I’d be a martyr if I could
And stand where the burning saints have stood
On the altar of wood by the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
It’s like a prison in this room
With the cigarettes and hot perfume
Something’s got to thaw out our mistakes
But I feel like a fish in a waterfall
One of these days, I’ll sprout legs and crawl
Away from the banks of the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
We’ve been up all night on this powdery binge
I can still smell the lust that the wind drags in
It’s the only habit I’ve got that’s worthy to break
We could check into rehab and seal the deal
And feel what the super-celebrities feel
Or turn the wheel straight into the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
Her reindeer are bridled; her peasants are gauche
They are starving in line: she offers brioche
But winning their naïve trust is a piece of cake
They’d float to Alaska to polish her nails
Come back bloodied and tied to her sails
Back from a crusade on the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
The bar of demarcation is set
Once etched in the earth, it’s hard to forget
So stand where the poor young Confederates once did shake
When our scorched-earth policies have failed
And your Mason-Dixon address gets no mail,
Just surrender yourself to the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
From Sierra Madre to Branson, Missouri
A blizzard is coming, she’s showing her fury
to you – this is no false alarm, no fake;
Like the perfect conquest of the abortion pill,
like the simple saga of Jack and J---,
It’s a cold moment till the Ice Queen’s lonely lake.