Best Discontinued Poems
( Repost )
Somehow, her eyes expand with the disobedient sky
and there, she senses urchins filling water on the lake
her feet and thighs slide up changing hues,
with receding incarnations of the moon.
She bends down gazing at images on the lake
as limbs turn into seaweeds, a mermaid in pain
changing hues in the crystal white of sky…
and the moon with slices of split mirrors burn
on wiggles of unscented tresses in water.
She dips her hands to catch the sleek tail in a plunge
knowing not a word to describe the reflection on the lake,
and witness the need to flow randomly in its
entrance through the expanse of one silver sky…
trying to recover glimpses reflected in the water.
Without point of reference to unknown images,
she vaguely remembers how transparently liquid
the changing hues of the moon become watery
like a hint of coagulated blood on a mermaid’s lake...
and the laughter of the sky drips into imaginings.
.......................................
* Written for a fantasy contest that was discontinued;
its theme required entrants to describe one's mirrored
image of the self. Few comments ranged from " Nice, but I
didn't get it" to " You seemed to have overused the word
"water?" In hindsight, I asked myself," what
were you thinking? This is sloppy!"
Jerry T Curtis' This Poem S***s Contest
We are the generation
of discontinued imagination.
With our twisting words
you’ll drink in
desperately.
Our beautiful stories
spun from the nothingness.
Shadows of hope
glimmering in the distance.
Farfetched aspirations
that will never be reached.
We are the hopeless romantics
you all wish you could be.
We are amazing with words
yet terrible with people.
We know what to say
and when
without missing a beat.
We are dreamers
and wishful thinkers
and procrastinators beyond belief.
We have hope
for things you
cannot fathom achieving.
We are desperate
for approval
yet hard to convince.
Destined for greatness
that will probably be missed
We are the socially anxious,
hopeful,
and descriptive
pessimists.
We are the ones
you wish you could be.
We are heartbreakers
because we are lost.
We are lonely
but happy.
So trust me when I say:
don’t fall in love
with a poet,
unless you are ready
to become one.
Form:
This site has been my haven, where I’ve met
so many poets; neither do I lack
for friends, and some I never will forget
although I know they won’t be coming back.
I’m blessed in that the best friends that I knew
who left the Soup still linger in my mind -
like Nikko, Red or Kash - to name a few,
and these are friends whom I can always find.
I offer one name as example of
a girl who left us, why, and where she went.
Dear Black-eyed Susan, who I came to love,
is one sweet poet who was heaven-sent.
In such a short time that we knew her here,
she sponsored lots of contests, which for me,
were so inspiring, then in about a year,
she discontinued posting poetry.
I know the reasons why she left. One was,
though active here, she soon grew to believe
few cared to comment back, and it’s because
of this, I think that others also leave.
She’d put in so much time with contests for
us all; it seems a shame she didn’t get
more thanks for all that she had done, or
more people taking notice when she left.
Now Susan’s writing poems, but not in rhyme.
She’s joined some groups of tanka and haiku.
She’s published now and spends a lot of time
with entering and winning contests too.
She’s flourishing in that community.
I miss her, but I email her and know
that she’s just fine, so Friends in poetry,
be kind! I hate to see good poets go!
LAUGH IT OFF
BERNITA THE BOLIVIAN COUGER
BERNITA SHUFFLES OVER TO THE MAKEUP COUNTER, WITH GLASSES SLIDING OFF HER NOSE AND EYES PINNED TO THE SALES GIRL LIKE A TAIL ON A DONKEY. " I'D LIKE TO RETURN THIS CHEEK POWDER MISSY, IT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE A TART ! I GET CHASED AFTER BY YOUNG MEN AND AT MY AGE I'M LIABLE TO BREAK A HIP OR WORSE, DISLOCATE MY KNEE CAP!"
THE SOFT SPOKEN GIRL LIVES ON STRINGBEAN PATIENCE EACH TIME MRS.B. REAPPEARS TO IRK HER WITH HER OLD ANTICS. WITH A SIGH SHE CREDITS HER THE PRODUCT THEN WATCHES, AS SHE PICKS UP A QUAD CANE AND HEADS FOR THE INCONTINENCE DEPT. IN A BOLIVIAN ACCENT THAT REFUSES TO LOSE ITS PATRIOT TONGUAMALASH SHE SAYS, "I'M OFF TO FIND DEPENDS. NOT A WORD ABOUT THIS TO ANYONE MISSY. A LADY SHOULD NEVER SHOW SIGNS OF LOSING HER TINKLES OR SPILLING HER BOWELS !" (HER THIN PURSED LIPS TELL ANOTHER STORY STILL, THE SALESGIRL OBLIGES)
A WEEK PRIOR, MRS. B. RETURNED A 24 HOUR LIPSTICK. THE SALES GIRL TRIED A LITTLE HUMOR THAT DAY, "IT WILL RUB OFF AFTER A FEW KISSES MRS. B., DON'T FRET, JUST ENJOY THE LIPSTICK !" (HALAS IT FELL ON DEAF EARS) MRS. B. WAS ALREADY HEADING FOR THE SOAP ISLE MUMBLING IN SOLIDARITY... "A LITTLE LYE, CAN FIXES EVERYTHING "
NEVER MIND TELLING HER THAT LYE SOAP WAS ONLY SOLD ON AMAZON THESE DAYS. THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN AS USELESS AS TELLING HER THAT "EVENING IN PARIS PERFUME" HAD BEEN DISCONTINUED SINCE 1969. "HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY MRS. B." SHE SAYS, AS SHE HEADS FOR THE COFFEE SHOP AND ORDERS HERSELF A WELL DESERVED, DOUBLE DOUBLE.
WRITTEN BY: VIENNA BOMBARDIERI AKA MYSTIC ROSE
Darling, will you love me still if I weren't a poet?
Will you hold my hand if I hypothetically happened
to pause my pen from poesy?
If I didn't use alluring alliterations to express my emotions?
If my soul stayed silent with no more stimulating similes?
Will you respect me if I refrain from rhyming ruminations?
Will you really care for me if I didn't use
imaginary imagism in our intimate interactions?
Will you share my worries if I were to withhold myself from writing?
Will you miss me manufacturing meticulous metaphors?
Will you caress and comfort me
if I cease to construct colourful canticles?
My handsome hero, will you accept me if I were a normal girl,
And not your special sweetheart with spectacular songs?
Will you tolerate my tantrums if my tongue terminated those tugging tunes?
Will you hold and hug me if I were to halt my hand
from creating clever, catchy compositions?
Will you value me verily if my verses vanish and vaporise?
If my muse turned morose and mum, will you still stay by my side?
If my moods metamorphosed into melancholic mysteries,
will you be mad at me or motivate me?
Will you still find me mesmerizing if making melodies escape my memory?
If I discontinued my ditties, will you discard me or defend me?
Will you be fond of me if I freeze my fingers from fashioning your fanciful fantasies?
Dearly beloved, will you still lavish me with love forever
if I were not a person to present my poetic preparations?
If I were to discontinue my direct declarations, will you still delight in me?
Oh! Will you appreciate me anyway if I abandoned my artistic abilities?
Tell me, my dear and I will stop my stuttering soul and muttering mind...
Will you prohibit my passion for poems...
or accept me as I am?
It wouldn’t be considered gourmet food.
In fact, I’ve seen it eaten by a lout
who wore a baseball cap, and looking crude,
kept chewing it until he spat it out.
It hasn’t got the most delicious taste,
but cleverest of diet snacks I’ve tried,
its calories can’t be consumed in haste.
One cracks its shell to get the seed inside.
It’s high in protein, fiber, zinc and E
and sunshine’s D. . . I’m healthy as a bird!
And at the matinee, I have with me
a package (nacho flavored most preferred!)
And since my fingers always have a need
to feed my face, I love my sunny seed!
Note: Sorry this is not a really emotional one
All my addictions seem to be pleasure centered and not too harmful!
Just to show you how addicted I was to nacho flavored sunflower seeds,
when they were discontinued by the company, I went around to every
gas station and grocery store in the valley and bought up every package
of them. It cost me around $85 and the 75 bags lasted only a year! Now I
eat the large ranch flavored ones!
Trains on theses tracks of Life are moving continually
Their view of events unfolds and are unraveling rapidly, consecutively
They are a multifaceted composite of compositions
A living scenic picture album of underlining photos,
enhanced with side glossaries
These give views of living menageries
and of many local communities
The Trains do make some full stops:
This like love and romance at the highest of
zenith mountainous tops
At the Trains end it will be discontinued:
The last stop for you and me naturally
Yet, there will be a resurrection for all true Saints:
who are on the Train’s eternal manifested ledger graciously
Then joyous, rapturous blissful heaven, heavenlies and all
of eternity, the most happily
It debuted in the sixties, and was an immediate star.
This model was within the genus of the family sports car.
The first generation was among the sportiest in its day.
This automobile was manufactured by Chevrolet.
With a powerful V-8 under its hood,
this new breed of car proved to be quite good.
It appeared in lieu of a four-seater Corvette.
The Camaro was one of the best anyone could get.
It was the product of General Motors’ brightest engineers.
Five generations rolled off assembly lines for thirty-five years.
Unfortunately, this model was discontinued recently.
There has been more emphasis on fuel efficiency.
It was also victimized by accelerated depreciation.
As a result, sales decreased throughout the nation.
These cars will once again appear on an assembly line.
They will make their way into showrooms in 2009.
After a long period of time, there was an awful stench in the garage.
After ceaseless investigations, we were clueless of the origin of stink.
It smelt like dead mice, but there was no sign of any.
It smelt like gas, and we feared there might be a leak.
The Gas Utility came out; but found no sign of leakage.
Though we felt safer, I worried as the smell grew worse.
Some time ago, we discontinued using our second vehicle.
After some time, one day I pushed the vehicle into the driveway.
I do not remember the reason I moved it;
but it had nothing to do with the odor.
The vehicle was a very popular one;
The best selling SUV at one time.
We also grew older and decided that one vehicle would suffice.
So we dropped the insurance, ‘non-opted it’, and parked it in the garage.
Currently, it’s still a good and desirable vehicle.
But it was the choice of my wife; not mine
Notwithstanding, I was surprisingly pleased with it.
It became aged and began to wear with costly repairs.
One day I walked past the SUV as it sat in the driveway.
You guessed it. I smelt the same stink that was inside the garage.
The riddle was solved; the mystery was resolved; I found Mr. Stink.
He was in the radiator; I flushed and ran him out; he was forever gone.
09242016 PS Contest, Stink, Anthony Slausen
Desperate to fill voids
underneath trees,
within stockings,
and in children’s hearts,
society’s seconds,
scratch-and-dent people,
unemployed close outs,
pick the bones of Christmas,
seeking salvation in
the clearanced,
discontinued,
and reduced-to-sell.
It’s the thought that counts,
but it’s the cash that’s counted
when money’s tight
as a hangman’s noose.
Each trinket is wrapped
in bits of brightness,
with love and hope,
and a prayer that it’s enough.
With controversial words he writes
Doesn’t give a **** what he thinks
I read of him last November
Not well loved his subjects stinks.
From what I heard he drinks a lot
Shown explicitly in his works
He declared himself dead
Making himself a real jerk.
I read most of his poems
Though not anymore it seem
I can’t find him on here anymore
Assuming he discontinued from poetry team.
Some poets are weird though clever
I shall miss his outspoken ways
Maybe he will come back someday
Like a bad penny he sways.
For Judy Konos Contest "Write a Poem"
Her stillness adapts to the realness.
Humble on top of greatness
Struck by an obsessed illness
Caught in a pain, rendered by weakness
Pleading for forgiveness
Reality was never bought, yet always taking
She had remembered her forsaking
Sick and now steady shaking
The ill-gotten syndrome is now awaking
This was an authentic chiller in the making
Brought down by so much fright
Reckoning exists in this fight
The aliment discontinued overnight
The hero bones have made it alright
A once dwindled destination is now bright
I ain't quite ready yet!
To stand in the dark recess of the cupboard
As unrequested
Out of date
Discontinued
Campbells..... chicken soup
My heart still listens
My stomach
Still loops the loop
When you are around
Yet still
I just stand
Unenjoyed
Unemployed by loves relish
So as a pitiful dog
I'll lay in my basket
And just embellish
Form:
My God can budge mountains and if you’re thirsty for his knowledge here’s a fountain
Quit being filthy, it’s clear your starving
Failures are unfamiliar in behalf of your behavior my preaching to you is pray to my Savior
Quit the procrastination, it’s clear your starving
The Lord is my shepherd bear fruit assemble a herd and God will repay you for your labor
Quit scheming evil, it’s clear your starving
Heavy times cleanse away like sins our cleansed away but not as long as you stay this evil way
Quit being filthy, it’s clear your starving
Go straight through misery with love and faith your God is beyond space and he’ll always keep you safe
Quit the procrastination, it’s clear your starving
Repent, a new spirit in you is the new invent, but know the profane spiritual world will curse you for who you represent
Quit scheming evil, it’s clear your starving
Temptations one day expand in amounts augmentation, but as long as you digested the Holy Spirit you want crumble with starvation
Quit being filthy, it’s clear your starving
Humble yourself I know life can be a savage jungle where it seems like all the animals was lions who rumble
Quit the procrastination, it’s clear your starving
Right is to supply seed to the sower to enlarge the harvest of your righteousness,
For God is love and he reveals kindness
Quit scheming evil, it’s obvious your starving
Job had a job temptation knocked on his door and not all could challenge what was on the reverse side of the door when you twist that knob
Quit being filthy, it’s clear your starving
When your born you’re a sinner to no degree a winner, flee with endurance be a sprinter, I suppose you come to your senses an get baptized be a swimmer
Quit the procrastination, it’s clear your starving
Let a communion be my reunion at a altar with angels probably a million and that sounds brilliant and all of this is my opinion
I discontinued scheming evil, I’m stuffed of a Christian Spirit
- Loverboi
Twas like every November before it,
But this one came with an air of uncertainty,
For the drums of celebrations had halted in may.
When Owen celebrated his second birthday.
Fate was finally smiling at Evbareke
Those around her had thought,
For indeed she, the child whose mother abandoned just nine months after her birth.
And left in the care of her sick father,
Aged grand mother,
Family members who cared less
For her existence.
Had grown to become a beautiful girl,
Whose nature was fair,
Like the back of a ripe alimo fruit
Which falls bountifully in the Month of March.
She, the girl whose childhood
Was characterize by total neglect and
Destitution had out of nothing found favour,
In the eyes of a decorated soja man.
Fast forward to 1989.
Her civil servant father died of an eerie
Circumstance; a live fish was removed
From his stomach.
Her life regained some sanity when
The soja man married her,
Immediately after Her father's burial.
He had promised to stay with her forever
And make her happy.
But nightmares also do come to pass.
Oga soja had a first wife at home,who
discontinued child birth after two children.
Her every action brought doom
To every one that crossed her path.
Fast forward to August 93,
The pressure from oga soja's first wife
Became unbearable, but oga soja in his kind
Nature, comforted her.
After all, she has given him
Three boys with another one on the way.
Death would strike again
But this time it came in form of a mere cold.
A cold that started on a very hot afternoon
All means and measures to quell the cold were abortive.
So death was inevitable,
It came that morning when oga soja told her to
Forgive him because he had worsen her plight.
"Look after our children" were his last words.
That November she was told to marry
Oga Soja's younger brother,
Who promised to cater for her
And her children.
She refused and decided to go her way
And raise her children all by herself.
Interjection;
Do not take it too seriously
Life will happen to her and her children,
Who defied all odds to live a good life.
And when she is asked what her biggest
Regret in life is?
She would say November 1993.
Godwin Henry Osaigbovo (Pa Shakespeare)