Best Dined Poems
Today I feel the pull
of gravity
on the depth of my depravity
There within that cavity
resides my anxiety
It seeps out of my porosity
feeding the insanity
I fear the shadowy part
that craves my heart
In the darkness my eyes dart
convinced I’ll be ultimately
ripped apart
The thoughts and images
That reside in me
are the splintered bits
of my history
I can feel my mouth covered
held down in my misery
It’s not the place I wish to be
I’m drowning there unable to see
praying a hand will reach out for me
I don’t want to be lost to eternity
or this tick tock, tick talk insanity
Out of body
Out of mind
Separated from me
what will I find
Can I escape
the bonds and chains that bind
Even when I look ahead
I’m pulled back behind
On my spirit
the demons have dined
My tick talk clock
has begun to unwind
Can there be light
for one who is blind
“Amazing grace how sweet the sound.
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found.
was blind but now I see.”
A voice in the dark
Summons me
Offering me protection
from my inner enemy
Experiencing true love
cleanses me instantly
I’m not meant to be bound
by mere gravity
As I’m filled with a higher Love
God teaches me
I was born for more
and meant to be free
Sad broken boy
When will you become a man
You try flying high
wishing you were Peter Pan
But you don’t understand
the stuff you’re putting in your veins
is taking you to a Never Never Land
That pain you hold
you’ll never ever escape
with needles pills or vape
You’re giving up bits of yourself
that the Hook is happy to take
On wobbly legs you walk the plank
and the crocodile is wide awake
One more Never Never Land trip
could mean never ever being free
That place you travel to
it won’t help you to truly see
The real trip is facing your misery
You can’t mine for silver
floating in the clouds
above your history
In the world you travel to
the monsters are real
The power they yield
is making you not feel
I know that numbness has its own appeal
Still I wish I could show you
you’re making a bad deal
Your soul is being dined on
and the demons are enjoying the meal
Seek God’s help
He has a perfect plan
He can heal the boy and the man
Things can be better than
being a pretend Peter Pan
Choose the great escape
from Never Never Land
You are meant to inhabit a Promised Land
It's your choice
leave you burden at the Cross
take Jesus's hand.
Leaves of the Dead
Les feuilles mortes
They fall like dead soldiers
Dreams knifed in the dead of night
It is as yesterday
Once more
Where love was kissing my cheek
Where hopes had dreams
One could see the blossom of loves desires
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
Ah now I am holding a cane
I have all but forgotten yesterday
I have no lovers
My friends have all but gone
To their designated places in the ground
Piano keys in soft lit lounges
I remember the vodka stingers and sultry singers
Telling me life was jolie oh so jolie
If only there was love…
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
At 3am, with burnt cigarette butts
If only there was love
When the metro finds it’s unwitting end
Reality and cubes make ugly paintings
There are only drunks
Dreamers and bums
Thief’s picking pockets of your final instructions
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
If you can sober up and face the poverty
Of your empty aspirations of hope
Come to the bois de Vincennes
Where Kings and Queens danced and dined
What better place
To splay the butter
So that the knife slides smooth
Whilst the sun fades kissing the seine
Autumn leaves will fall
Dead again
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
Today for lunch I dined on some Tex-Mex cuisine,
jalapeno topped enchiladas and refried beans;
a favorite here in Texas, that can’t be denied,
but this afternoon I am battling the fire inside.
Washed it down with a margarita and wedge of lime,
it was very soothing and delicious at the time.
It gave my head a little buzz and made me cross-eyed,
but now my gut is suffering from this fire inside.
I used to have no trouble eating this spicy food,
but now it causes burning in my stomach to intrude.
And yet I do not worry for in my desk does hide
a jar of Tums to relieve me from this fire inside.
November 7, 2017
Poem of the Day - November 8, 2017
When I went to bed last night, my hair was fairer,
Yet, when I looked at the mirror today, a stranger was there,
More grey than fair, I’m eccentric, I’m a poet for
Goodness’ sake, I say what I mean, and I mean I what I say,
So back to the hairdresser I am going today.
Some like it black, or red, even blue or green, my color is pink.
Chrisy, my dear, what have you done to my hair,
I wanted a whitish blonde, you are renowned for your flair.
Light pink will blend in with mine and complement the blonde,
Please say you will fix my color and do my hair as I want.
I needed to tell hubby about what I had decided to do,
I think it will look great, he said, so out to dinner we went,
Happy I had my answer, to the question of ‘should I’.
What a wonderful night, it was as if we were out on a first date,
My husband and I, who is my best friend, lover and mate.
We dined under a full moon and millions of stars,
My pink hair shimmering, maybe they think hubby had
Married the first alien woman from Venus or Mars,
I whispered this in my husband’s ear. There’s my poet he replied.
He walked with her a good mile
and talked with increasing smile,
with wonder he sat,
for the gladness in her heart;
...spent her days with wild hope ---
that he was in her eldest dreams,
from the beginning smote her monsters
and eased her deepest fears...
Now he rode with her again on his great white steed,
'til the edge of some mystic dusk;
and turn they could though too darkling
the winnowed wood, and chasing with shadows
the misted nite path, and she finally bade him
and his hidden forest hideaway;
so quaint and annointed with its little beds,
and bruin skins 'ere the hearth
and lordly portraits above its mantel;
and he lit it alive with warmth,
and the moon had come swift through the garland window
And in her hand he thrust the dearest of wine,
with nectar lush for a goddess,
and dearer her heart for him more they dined;
yet he pressed no closer ---
and gazed delicately glancing her bosom,
remained mostly her lunar eyes...
and bade her a fine warm shawl ---
But the wine and fire...his eyes...
his eyes upon her though brief ---
stroked her where they fell,
and smiling she was longing his lips,
but caught her lust...
her heart! she could hear it drumming desperate
" I am almost too warm for your fine shawl..."
" Too warm? " said the lord ---
" no wine could simmer so, and the fireplace
too slight for such heat... your eyes undress me... "
And no nite they had ended...
nor any morning come betwixt them,
(but a kingdom of love in some forest green)
It wasn't because he brought her flowers....
It wasn't because he wined and dined her....
She loved him because he spent hours on the computer
trying to track down the 1970 Brooks Robinson baseball card
for their oldest son's birthday
She loved him because he played with their kids, even after a hard day at work...
baseball games in the big front yard...
cheering them on...
not getting angry when the youngest son
knocked a homer
straight through the living room window
My first sight of him was on a March day
in a restaurant where I was dining.
Oh lovely chance when his sweet eyes met mine.
Like two lovely jewels, they were shining.
The look that he gave me was a long gaze.
Brazen but fresh, but like morning dew
caressing a flower and making it glow.
I read in his eyes “Let it be you!”
Then I, like a rose caressed by the dew,
glowed pink as I blushed. Though normally prim,
I saw him stand up, his eyes glued to mine.
Emboldened, I smiled and stared back at him!’’
He walked to my table and sat down by me.
Together we dined and chatted that day.
Two hearts and two minds with longing reached out.
The whole afternoon slipped quickly away.
With the day’s ending, together we left.
In the clear evening, he said so softly,
“I know the stars, and you’ll see this night
there will be stars, dear, for you and for me.”
There at my door, he leaned in for the kiss
so beautifully soft and wonderfully long.
We heard thunder! Suddenly came a spring rain.
The wind, once a breeze, grew exceedingly strong.
Because it was cold, I had him come in.
The stars were not out, but I almost could swear
they’d burst in my soul when his lips met mine.
If he had faults, I thought “I shall not care!”
He stayed until morning. In spite of the storm,
my heart sang a song! There’d be plenty of
nights filled with stars for him and for me.
Life’s sweetest gifts are for those who love.
Feb. 18, 2017 for
THE POETS PLUCK (poet of your choice) Poetry Contest of Mystic Rose
My first poetry book when I was a teenager was an illustrated Hallmark edition called "Those Who Love" by Sara Teasdale. I have included almost half the titles of poems in that book to write this poem. Teasdale's romantic poetry has been a wonderful influence on me.
I ate myself the other day
Unhinged my jaw and chomped away
No crumb was left after I dined
No limbs, or head, or crooked spine
Each bite I took was bittersweet
Laced with love and shamed defeat
I didn't even say goodbye
To all I loved and held so high
My tummy rumbled, so then I ate
What was left of me,
That you didn't take
"Reveries are gifts of moments, even melancholy ones,
when our hearts were happy."
~ by poet
We planted a flower garden, he and I
Throughout spring's sunny weather
Shared our hopes among heliotropes
We did everything together
My reveries linger of when my finger
wore a ring that he had given
My life is marred and I'm scarred
By the thorn love used to scathe me
We grew roses in nurtured beds, he and I
Throughout summer's warm weather
Relished each bloom and its perfume
We did everything together
My reveries are treasured memories
But the summer days have ended
We live apart and it wounds my heart
For the thorn's still causing harm
We shared wine when we dined, he and I
Throughout autumn's chilled weather
Drinking Cabernet, he vowed to stay
We did everything together
My reveries at sunset fill me with regret
Gone are those days of fall, one and all
Chilly winds blow, and soon it will snow
The thorn still pricks my skin
We played in the snow like children, he and I
Throughout winter's frigid weather.
We walked in the moonlight every night
We did everything together
Until we said goodbye, and now I cry
In sadness I weep; without him I can't sleep
My reveries remain, and with them the pain
Of a sharp thorn in my side
We loved each other, he and I
Throughout four seasons of weather
Days of dancing, nights of romancing
We did everything together.
Reveries of us I can't forget, and yet
I wish I didn't remember that December
When it all ended and I pretended
Not to feel the thorn that pierced my heart
To celebrate his new glasses,
home a nearsighted dragon, did fly.
the doctor had truly, helped his sight.
A party he’d throw, full of savories;
on many delicacies, his friends would feed.
All night they’d party, till morning’s light.
His patio torches, he’d blow on to light;
water spots, he’d removed, from every glass.
He decided a menu, for his friends, to feed.
Off to the grocery, with his bags, he did fly;
oh, how he did savor,
his brand new, eyesight.
Dragon, in flight, was a curious sight;
with bags full of food, he did alight.
Dragon truly savored,
his shiny new eyeglasses.
but as turbulence hit, off they did fly;
causing him to drop his many bags of feed.
With no food, for his friends, upon which, to feed;
he dove, in an attempt, to restore his sight;
that nearsighted dragon in half-blind flight.
He looked drunk as the dickens, in broad daylight.
Though he recovered his glasses;
his sight, again, to savor.
Now he could see, to recover, his savory
menu and headed home, for his friends, to feed.
First he tied on his glasses,
as to not, lose his sight.
The coals on his grill, he simply blew, to light,
as his guests all arrived, in true dragon flight.
Hungry dragons in flight,
arrived, dined and savored,
the meal, he’d prepared by torch light.
On mushrooms and steak and potatoes they did feed;
oh, it was such a bright, festive sight
and they toasted him, with a great clinking of glasses.
Twenty dragons, still too full, to fly;
bedded down, in his cavern, by the morning light.
In dreams, they’d re-savor,
the spread; what a sight!
Dragon’s friends, just as planned, he truly did feed;
all thanks to his shiny new eyeglasses.
A surly old maid
had an urge to be laid
and bemoaned her virginal status
with life discontented
her plight she lamented:
"'tis not easy to live without coitus."
A scheme she invented
got polished and scented
tweaked her pointers to swing more voluptuous
with a rose-scented blanket
and aphrodisiac banquet
whisked her beau to the beach to be fructuous
Clad in scant mini
whence peeked her bikini
bent on bidding her cherry adieu
purred words mildly profane
wined him champagne
dined him fare with venereal value
To hone his libido
entrèed on baked avo
oysters, scallops and honey-glazed almond
lips enticingly luscious
sucked asparagus
sneaked a look if what matters had hardened
As was he, she became cocky:
ogled what was now stocky
with no inhibition she fussed and she flirted
our virgin opened her mouth
with one hand down south
loosened a knot and lay there unskirted
Decidedly heady
her lover was ready
to pick her rosebud unsoiled hitherto
her lush lips he fingered
where he lovingly lingered
to prepare for their kissing debut
With a bolt sat upright
said, his voice somewhat tight:
"Your mouth is a pit of infection.
I swear I was keen
but your mouth lacks hygiene
foul breath made me lose my ********."
Venice, the daughter of the sea
Winding paths, waterways or cobblestones roads
Rulers of the renaissance, noblemen would be
Her navy full of conquests, her triumphs all would see
From nobility rose, a woman fair
Her life a whirlwind, with her share of despair
Banished from Venice, for daring to speak
Her desires and wit, did many a man seek
The golden rose the pope did give
As she fled to Florence, so young and deceived
Her strength in spirit and a mind so refined
Her friend Marco, the captain, with whom she dined
He parted his wisdom as best he could
He sailed victorious, for Bianca he should
His secret was safe out on the seas
Which is why he and Bianca, could never be
Her royal blood would keep her in stead
As nobility in Florence would turn their heads
Francesco indeed would commission a palazzo
For Bianca his mistress, in waiting, his queen
The Grand Duchy of Florence, all powers bestowed
A seeker of knowledge, of wisdom composed
His Austrian wife, alone, cold and barren
Could not compete, with his love yet to be
They danced, they confided, in each they held
A love of intellect, beauty and lust to be feld
And sadly, one day, the enemies of Venice
Plotted and schemed to bring about a demise
The poison was swift, and an era did end
In a villa in Florence, Francesco was dead
Bianca his love, her beauty unblemished
Fell by his side, and whispered to thee
My dear, my love, it was meant to be
Bianca Cappello (1548 – 17 October 1587)
Note: OK OK I invented 1 new word, that's what poets do
The Middle Time is now upon me,
The tune to which I dance grows somewhat thin;
A ghost remembrance of that cacophonous din
To which my steps were measured in my youth.
I know there lies now less before
Than all those days that lay within
The sepulcher of careless memory passed,
I apprehend the sometime bitter truth
That evil days approach my door
When much of what I've come to love will bid its leave
As I be forced to gaze aghast
At sights my eyes would fain not see,
When I to faithful hope must cleave.
Yet, what better time than this, the high point of the feast?
That Jester, Youth, has left the table
Leaving us the better able
To speak of things which more befit the greyed brow,
Matters weighty and sublime
Which better suit our natures now, though perhaps in tone more sable
Than such issues as delight the Fool,
Content the simpleminded sow -
Let us worthily pass the time
To Banquet's End, in company merry and refined,
Reviewing all we gained in Life's long school -
Establish what we value most and least,
Then say we fed our souls while yet we dined.
O grieve not that thy step be not so quick nor light
As t'was it's wont to be in bygone days,
Nor pine for carefree, childish ways -
They had their time, and sweet they were,
But now thou hast a surer, measured step
Nobler thoughts - the ones which stay,
Youth for all its joyful folly
Is not a state forever to prefer
To mind and manner better kept
From fancies and seductions strange;
Who but a Fool would be forever jolly
To deny his Midlife's further sight,
It's deeper view, it's wider range?
Caleb Smith, southern gent so refined,
has an interesting, humorous mind.
He not only can write,
but can farm, fish and fight,
and on critters he hunts he has dined!
Also clever at limericks is Tim.
He does footles for friends on a whim.
The bright bulb in his brain
comes on time and again.
May Tim Ryerson’s light never dim.
A third limerick writer, Mike Dailey,
has some fifty of them we can see!
Though I don’t know him well,
by his poems I can tell
that a doting grandfather is he.
There are oodles of limericks by Jack.
Sheer wit our dear Horne does not lack.
But his vampire obsession
can leave a gal guessin’. . .
Am I friends with a maniac?
In praise of the Duke I now sing.
All his poetry has that cool “ring” -
a limerick each one -
making Beauford- bar none -
The PoetrySoup limerick king!
*A SHOUT OUT also to five OTHER great limerick guys: Sean Kelly,
Charles Sides, Charles Clive, Harry Horsman, and Robert Hinshaw & Soupers,
Let me know of any other limerick guys out there I should know about!
For : Sandy Ivy D's Poem of Dedication Contest