Best Derived Poems
Spring Flowers
Opal open clouds let raindrops freely fall
Coaxing coy blossoms of spring to bloom.
Fragrant sweet scents permeate the air.
Snow drops begin the parade as they appear.
It is believed that snow drops originated
When an angel breathed upon a snowflake.
The pansy’s bright *French face in viola shades
Were known to represent a lover’s pursuit
And remembrance of his loyalty and love.
Scilla Siberica with their nodding blue-bell like
Flowers feature a Royal Horticultural status.
Their faint fragrance and hues mesmerize.
Let’s not forget the flowering trees swaying in
Spring’s bucolic breeze where cherry blossoms
Seize our eyes in pink or white with such delight.
Song birds sing their sonorous songs with joy
As snow melts into rivers flow and waves goodbye.
New birth, harbinger of hope arrives in spring.
3-12-22
Spring Showers or Spring Flowers Poetry Premiere Contest~Nineth Place~
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
*The word, pansy is derived from French
language and means ‘thought’.
My thanks to Wikipedia for the photo:
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/38/Scilla_carpet_Alnwick_gardens.jpg
Woman in Chains
(What Man Would Abide It?)
Women throughout centuries – the softer sex.
I picture them subservient since what feels like time primordial!
What man would abide
being sold as if mere chattle and being called another’s property?
What man, with a love of learning or of writing,
would acquiesce and be denied
the education and the opportunities he so desired?
What man would dare take second place -
hiding in the background or covering his face
because society or church said things were meant to be that way?
What man would abide having cut off from his body
that part of him from which carnal pleasure is derived?
What man would let his feet be broken as a child,
bound up to resemble hooves to keep him in his place?
What man would abide being burned alive
if the dowry of his spouse were deemed unsuitable?
What man would abide (if not so inclined)
enduring the agonies of giving birth again and again
because his spouse preferred he stay at home?
What man would abide being raped or even killed
as punishment for even being raped?
What man would endure constant beatings for “his own good”
and feel good that his church or state approved this?
What man, if he were able to get pregnant,
would take on all the stress of unwed motherhood
when the one who got him pregnant bailed on him?
What man would abide the stigma and the soiled reputation?
What man would prostitute himself to feed his babies
because a job for one like him would not be given?
What man would abide living enslaved by an abuser,
afraid to run away or be found and killed by his abuser?
Atrocities like these through centuries have too long been endured.
No man would for so long a time endure them.
For reasons of pure biology, the role of the abused
was hoisted primarily on women.
Thank God for those strong women a mere century ago
who stood up, bravely fighting for women’s rights.
Thank God for lonely sister souls in faraway places
who even now stand fighting against inequities -
simply for the fact that they were born the softer sex.
Aug. 31, 2020 for John Hamilton's Woman in Chains Contest
Prometheus had erred and caused great ire
when stealing in stealth secrets of fire.
But Zeus could not forgive this deed.
The chieftain of gods punished his greed.
The lightning zigzagged across the sky,
in anger he let thunderbolts fly.
Instructions he gave to mould from earth
a woman endowed to prove her worth,
all humans to touch their lives and shift
the balance with her seductive gift.
Hephaestus was told what to create;
Pandora came forth through heaven’s gate.
Athena supplied her silver gown,
her head she adorned with ornate crown.
She hastened to guile the human race
her nature refined to tempt by grace
alluring deceit that knew no shame
her mission withstood distrust or blame.
Pandora’s torment flowed wide and far.
She carried with her an earthen jar.
Instructions were laid to be obeyed
to keep it enclosed and so it stayed
till yearning became hard to resist
temptation knew well how to insist.
Alone by herself beside a brook
she lifted the lid, a glancing look
that opened the flood to evil force
unhindered it spread and took its course.
She panicked and pushed with all her might;
the damage was done – eternal plight.
A trickle of hope was left inside
but hardly enough to turn the tide.
When laws are defied they cause much grief;
the pleasure derived is false and brief.
Temptation is what destroys the weak;
redemption is there for all to seek.
Forever in life it’s hard to cope.
Pandora we chase in search of hope.*
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* Pandora is chased for the only thing left in her jar – hope.
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Author: Paul Callus
Contest: Men Only #2
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Placed 1st
My life, like everybody else’s, is a treasure trove
with a mine from which one’s treasures are derived.
The familial bonds we form are platinum; our friendships gold.
These are precious ores that most souls are born to find with ease.
But all of us have other precious stones we need to mine.
They are the fruit of skills and talents put to their best use.
My treasure trove abounds with gems already -
ones that I discovered as a child.
Though rough in their natural form, most of them I opened
as I grew in understanding of God’s gifts for me.
Others not so easy to break open were able to be shaped,
for once I sought them out inside my mine
and cracked them open. . . their radiance was revealed to me.
Our precious gems, God-given, must not be squandered.
Once mined, they need to be shared.
Artists, teachers, scientists, tradesmen, leaders, even dreamers -
we all have different kinds of gemstones hidden in our mines.
Once, later on in my own life,
I came upon a silver tool used by many different types of artists.
I’d seen it in my youth but hardly used it.
Thousands of words lay embedded in that specific tool God gifted me.
I delved into the depths of my mine and learned
that I could tap and tap the silver worded tool upon each stone,
and finally a gem would then reveal itself to me.
The more I searched for stones to tap,
The more wondrous were the nuggets that appeared -
And there were more of them than I’d believed I could ever find -
buried there so deeply in my mine!
The art of crafting them and polishing them up
I was able to improve upon in time. . .
and found that even those less valuable could shine!
A poet’s gems need not be bought or sold.
Displaying them with love and pride alone can be fulfilling.
How I thrill to view a wide variety of gemstones
freely shown from others’ treasure troves.
From the rarest and the clearest multi-faceted
color-shifting Alexandrite and tanzanite,
and the most remarkable of diamonds, rubies,
sapphires, emeralds, amethyst and jade,
down to the lowliest of onyx, quartz, garnets, or agates,
each stone has something of the poet’s soul within it,
especially beautiful when polished to a brilliant sheen!
The more I open gemstones in my mine, the more of them I find,
and my silver-worded tool lies nearby at the ready.
In gratitude may we flourish…
I’m grateful for:
My coloring books and crayons
The memories of a happy child
The voice of my sweet mother
So comforting, so soft and mild
The friends who shared the summer
For sandy beaches so serene
And those who shared the winter
And every season in-between
For love and laughter always
My health and will to have survived
For furry friends, companions
From whom such pleasure is derived
The seasons of a lifetime
For everything that’s come to me
For having known some kindness
And every good thing that I see
At my lowest point
there is still so much to be grateful for
Through the shallows,
Through the depths,
The muck and the mire,
With trembling limbs
I succor the dying,
Strip the layers naked...
A conceit of consciousness
In psychic awareness,
I repute the repudiated
Caught in a self made web
Of hubris, malevolent envy.
Wrath projected...as a
Boomerang, must return.
Ashes back to ashes is
The only transformation
Derived in sustained purgatory.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Poetic words on
paper creased,
tell beauty of a
mind unleashed…
Pen is to paper - as
chalk is to slate.
Your mind is a
canvas - that I’ll
illustrate.
You’ll envision an
image artfully
crafted,
when reflecting on
poetry cleverly
drafted...
Secrets once
chained, and a bit
undefined,
will come into focus
inside your mind.
A likeness derived
from inspiring
scrawl,
unlocking the
dreamer that’s
inside us all...
Copyright © 2014
Published in Rhyme & Rhythm: A Poetry Collection (2017) A poetry book by Cole Banner available at Amazon.com
A Picture Of Oneself contains not too much to tell,
Except the package showing that in which they dwell.
This is the only purpose a picture has and does,
Telling nothing about the person who is or was.
A Picture Of Oneself shows nothing that's inside.
Who is the real character that within does reside?
Are they a soul with compassion, full of empathy
Or are they all about themselves with only apathy?
How much do they care? How much do they Love?
Are they ego driven with pride derived of?
What character traits does the picture of possess,
One of integrity, virtue, along with humbleness?
Do they seek and tell the truth or do they lie?
Do they have a code of ethics they only live by?
What do they aspire for in life and/or hope to gain?
Do they care how or if it's by causing others pain?
What are they feeling, happy with joy in their heart
Or are they battling pain in their deepest, inner part?
What have they been through; what have they endured?
Have they overcome with an outlook, healthy and secured?
All the aspects of a person are left unaddressed
In a Picture Of Oneself, the real is oppressed.
The packaging is glorified, says nothing of its host;
Though appearance is deceptive, it tends to matter most.
Technology would surpass itself and be truly smart,
If there was a camera that could capture one's heart.
All the devious hearts wouldn't have invisibility
And all the hearts of beauty would shine then brilliantly.
A Picture Of Oneself may preserve one's appearance;
May be used to con others and to run interference.
But a Picture Of Oneself, nothing does it tell.
It's just a package picture, a picture of one's shell.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-04-13 08:55:00 (EDT) All rights reserved.
Enticed by his faceted aspects
Political points show his honour
Policies opposed, David contests
Left wing woke folk admonished
Rawness of broad topics examined
Cowboy stories of recent history
Scenarios derived from within
Issues which play contemporary
David flavoured, his firm essence
Infuses my little with his lot
I honestly struggle to explain this
... never missed what I don't got
.. A man who won't take crap
Shallow hits roll off his jaw
My bull wouldn't just lapse -
He'd bleed it dry, peace restored
Faceless man tells me myriads
Written by unwavered conviction
Marathon stamina poem olympian
I, willing victim to his inflictions
Dreaming of David, strange concept
- exclusive, by myself for eight years
It's a choice to remain alone, heart kept
Relic packed away, oddly he endears
Hard nosed refusal to enter this century
Old school stance pings my deepest vibe
Unreasonable, how much it means to me
To absorb the jib of David 's scribe
Around three years his senior
In virus time, located overseas
I fixate on his strong demeanour
In lurid choc chip fantasies
12th September 2020
Wings of Wisdom
- there is no life without pain -
On all these roads we travel
with free will to choose each turn
There is no avoiding pain
Heartache, betrayal or deep loss
The key is to keep on moving
Never letting go of our beliefs
Releasing tears, yearning to fall
Not letting ourselves fall too deep
In every waking moment upon us,
opportunities shine from shadows
Simple things to see all around us
Calling out for us to notice
To fill the darkness with light
To mend the hurt into joy...
With eyes wide open, we can look
Capture views from this pure creation
There is so much we have been granted
Oh, so much to be grateful for
There is no life without pain
Healing brings strength to get us through...
If it weren't for the darkness,
the light wouldn't be so bright
If it weren't for our perseverence,
we'd be stuck in the ongoing plight
Life does not promise all laughter and smiles
Lessons are derived from moments of hardship
Blessed are those who keep on going
To find the joy and love, waiting revival
- on the wings of wisdom -
In the calm water, where the storms once stirred
Heidi Sands
12/7/23
Our supposed modern scientific genius
May in fact just be our last fatal weakness.
This technological house of cards we've made
Left humanity walking along the edge of a razor blade.
How much could you buy or sell using debit or credit
If someone or something wiped out the internet.
A computer virus, terrorists, hackers, or an E.M.P.--
Will wipe out our hard-earned wealth eventually.
Killing beneficial insects is almost like fratricide.
Think really hard again about ever using insecticide.
How many fields of vegetable plants and fruit trees
Will ever bear fruit if there are no more bees.
Rather than organically producing more living topsoil,
We're killing what remains with chemicals derived from oil.
As chemical contaminants follows their downward motions,
Choral reefs and plankton are dying in the oceans.
As a species, we've all become germ-o-phobic neurotics,
Religiously trying to kill all microbes with antibiotics.
But pharmaceutical medicine will never defeat every bug,
So one of these days there's certain to be a super plague.
So will we all starve because we cannot buy or sell,
Or because the oceans and farmlands have all gone to Hell?
Will we be extinguished by some invincible virus?
What ever it be, the fault will probably lie in us!
I wish I could offer some brilliant inspired solution,
But remember that extinction is also a part of evolution.
You may write me off as some kind of nutty alarmist,
But people that know me consider me to be an optimist.
...Apologies to Heraclitus and W. H. Auden...
We, defeated by the merest things,
in defeat, endure...for now.
No abiding truth in faith:
origins and destinations
we cannot differentiate,
all random, unguided
by any prescient power;
but, not illogical
(there is no illogic.)
We impose all universal order,
influence what subsequently occurs,
to learn, or not, through endless repetition,
endless failure...and we are
but a current iteration,
here for now -- in constant flux,
defeated by the merest things.
Courage and nobility derived
from continued confrontation,
continued endless struggle,
let us show an affirming flame.
To myself to I, to God I asked
what nature of sample shall I give,
the tribute must be something, already possessed
and not a thing to be acquired or easily accessed,
what type of treasure, what placid pleasure,
what measure of scintillating success should be expressed,
many feelings, dealings, winnings and blessings I have
like the menificent merchant of an ageless & melancholy market,
however I am disinterested in the buying & selling of impressive items,
something of my core should be present, priceless, respirative,
multitudes give Deity thick thanks in pompous prayers
or grim graveling of worship,
others offer animal immolation or coin from shallow pocket,
as does everyone I experience the panic of pain,
that terrible teacher of no remorse whose curriculum
makes carion of cowards,
but as a student of Life and thus a pupil of pain
I realised that my mind can be a calm cistern,
my heart a coffer of adversity's copious rewards,
the determination is made,
my proudest possession, enlightenment derived from pain,
enchanting and admonishing like the howls of hungry beasts,
a gift of character, a jewel of dreams manifest,
God accepted and said,
" Someone, somewhere, somehow is suffering to better feats" -
J.A.B.
His:
He played softly on (Les Paul Strings) (The Day That He Returned Home) from the war. (One
More Mile) to go, then he will be (Kissing and Caressing) her. That was all he thought of on
his long journey home. He was going to try and win over (The Iceberg Beauty) he saw so
long ago while (Sitting on the Beach). (Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained) so (He Left Her a
White Rose). He was hoping the (Dark Maiden) would become (Golden and Gorgeous) once
again when (In the Meadow We Lay).
(She Entered My Dream)s forever on that day, right after we dove into the water. When (We
Came Up For Air) (The Flow of My Heart) stopped suddenly. (Have You Ever Sat Still), so still
breathing stops, the eyes suddenly glaze over and when the (Doves Fly), (The Raven
Succumbs)?
Hers:
(Her Reoccuring Dream) was to become a blond (Beach Beauty) once again for him, as he
was always (In Her Dreams). He would cover her with (Sunset Kisses) and the flame of life
in her would never flicker and die. Alas, (The Mirrors Spoke) of her (In Ageing Decay) as
she (Sat in Shame No More). Her time was up, those (Three Wishes on The Sandy Beach)
were not enough. She needed a fourth to be young for evermore. Instead (On Blue Silk She
Lies), this time her eyes will remain shut (When They Close For Evermore)!
* Narrative derived from one poets work here on the Soup.
From the beginning, people have asked themselves,
how God came into being or how God creates from nothing?
The God seekers are advancing ethical axioms
and truth is withstanding the test of experience.
Human mind is made out for reason and truth.
Reason gives us freedom
and freedom makes a human being a moral subject.
The man is a moral being and justice is greater than love.
We don’t know, why protons in the core of atom
are attracted and not repelled
even though, they have the same electrical charge?
What decides that a cell becomes animal or a plant cell?
Every leaf has many cells and each is more complicated
than a human made rocket.
Why stars, Earth and other planets are weightless in space
and what force makes universe to expand?
Expanding universe is astounding.
Space is stretching and does not collapse.
Why Dolphins live in water for millions of years,
even though they do not have gills
and cannot breath oxygen from water?
Nature adapts and man forms himself.
Animals lack our understanding,
but we cannot compare to incorporeal beings
for they are much more advanced than we.
There is more to reality than just phenomenal.
Science interprets things in terms of our experience,
and consciousness is essential to knowledge.
Real world is self contained, independent,
derived from pure consciousness.
Man gets corrupted by the power he has,
but God is almighty and holy indeed.
"Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter
the flock of my pasture..."
The king cannot substitute for apostolic succession.
God revealed himself to mankind
and this encounter of God is our experience.
The wholeness of being demands eternity,
otherwise, the being is fractional.
Lord God dwells in unapproachable light
and can deify people and angels and make them Gods,
but only if they are holy first.