Best Drawbacks Poems
Written: November 10, 2024 For Contest Sponsored by: Ink Empress
__________________________
Homeric moonstone sparkles at night.
a glowing globe of gleam amid galaxies,
Its shimmering shafts as flowing fantasies,
gliding glimmering, giddy waves of a wild ocean.
Glowing gaze glances into the gorgeous,
glistening sapphire depths,
where wild winds whirl, a wondrous waltz awakens—
ruby glistens amid the thunderclap.
amethyst whispers in the misty screams.
Hearken: harmonious hymns hover in heavens
colorful loops of capturing emerald and turquoise
every hue is a harmony in a mariner’s melody
each ebbing essence echoes magical epics of yore.
The fracas outside fades
as nature’s narratives naturally navigate—
dense drapery, like drowsy dividers
drawbacks divulge a heart displayed delicately.
Moonbeams meander over majestic mountains
limestone and obsidian, luscious layers lost
while wordsmiths weave wondrous words,
In a cascade of captivating couplets,
that shimmer and crumble.
Do you hear the sirens sing?
a chorus of longing from the depths
they call to hearts heavy like stone
yet light as ashes caught in the smoke.
We walk where men have trodden,
tracing footsteps worn soft by time,
with wonder in every glance, every sigh,
painted worlds vibrate in the very air.
So, step into this symphony of starlit spells.
a captivating collection of contrasting senses—
where dazzling diamonds dance delightfully
and the fierce fight for fervent fantasies flows with the tide.
Out here beneath the blackened blanket of night,
Elysium eagerly awaits our embrace—
a splendid symphony, and you
the softest serenade nestled in its depths.
The senses are intended to mislead
a man in love. I know, his watchful eye
can see the angels flying in the sky
but drawbacks of his ladylove, indeed.
He's ears sharp enough to hear a bead
of water working rocks, a quiet sigh
of endless starless space and even thy
conspiratorial whisper, thinking reed.
But he is deaf to platitudes, buzzwords,
suburban accent, vulgarisms and odds
and ends because he listens to the sound
of metaphysic harmonies inside
his own heart. He keeps eyes open wide
to see love crossing its transcendent bound.
Barely seconds into something, already hooked.
Why question anything if you know your stuff?
You know best that it’s easy to be overlooked,
Especially when you’re a diamond in the rough.
Undiscovered diamonds are beautiful no less,
Though nobody looks, for it seems a time waste,
It didn’t catch the eye, the moment won’t press,
Still there sits a wonderful creation, ever chaste.
Seemingly distant, yet inside shines with allure,
If not an established masterpiece it is known,
The unfamiliar treasure has naught to reassure,
The hallucination of becoming a precious stone.
All the treasured pieces and items universally,
Either tell a great tale, or will fetch a fine price.
The wallflower diamond untold commercially,
And without a story, could be mistaken for ice.
Sponsored by: Silent One
If this was the last
___________________
| If this was the last_goodbye |
But, what if this was the last time I cried,
Don't want to be hidden behind lying scrys.
The world forgotten on their prying device,
Humanity alone algorithmic thrice.
Heaven on you shoulder beckons you home,
Mirror-sucking marrow through soulless domes.
But, what if this is the last chance to thrive,
Society nullified blue tick uprise.
Locate my strength to become whole again,
Discharge into the torrent of play-pretend.
Am I willing to wonder the outdoors,
Bleak scepticism plaguing putrid drawbacks flaws
Pick up, put down, conscious cyber remorse,
No better a junky and their driving force.
But, what if this is the last time I lie,
Unsubscribe, double-click, shut device; goodbye.
The little old woman who lived in a shoe
Wasn't the sole owner
Apparently there were strings attached
Wow that was a real groaner
I have never been a big fan of archery
Too many drawbacks, for me
Rookie pirates make terrible singers
Can't really hit the high seas
For plumbers a flush sure beats a full house
And I'm not talking poker here
Have you heard about that origami store
The damn thing folded it appears
In a room where the curtains were drawn
The rest of the furniture was real
Love means nothing to tennis players
Doesn't have a lot of appeal
The butcher backed into the meat grinder
And got a little behind in his work
Heard it before but it's one of the good ones
Let's celebrate and pop the cork
Do you know the real definition of a will
It's a dead giveaway
... grrrrooooaaaannnn
© Jack Ellison 2013
knew a man who went to
cemeteries &
he took photos of the gravestones---
while this is most certainly
not a unique way of finding serenity,
it is one that brings to light
the affinity of the dead,
for there, this man was tranquil
he found peace with those who
have finally been allowed peace,
with those whose lives have finally
ended &
whose personalities have been
eliminated, bringing all stress, drama &
tension to a screeching halt---
this is not to say that while
taking such beautiful black & whites,
that he did not ponder the lives of
each & every one of his “subjects,”
by assessing the size of their stones,
the placement of the stones in the
lot &
the material with which the stones were
made---all helping him to build a
vague character sketch of each individual
now laid to rest.
like anything, there were drawbacks
to the meditative grave photography,
for there were all the things that family
members left at the graves, which
made him feel less loved than he had felt,
prior to entering the cemetery in question---
and he wondered, as many of us do,
what would become of him after he left
that cemetery, he wondered just what
really had been the point of going there
in the first place, he wondered what in
his life specifically had led him to be one
who at this time in his life found it
comforting to spend long stretches at a
time in cemeteries, taking photos of
the quiet & stationary, he wondered
about where it all would go, where it all
might lead & in the end,
his only conclusions were
that he’d be stuffed in an urn or
crammed in a box like the rest of em’
soon enough &
the beauty would be that there’d be no need
to have any more questions
on the subject,
so perhaps his affinity
came hand in hand with jealousy,
perhaps it came hand in hand with
envy---
perhaps.
Knick Knack Paddy Whack
Can’t take back a wisecrack
If you wanna be a crackerjack
Earn a greenback from blackjack
Gotta buyback your backpack
Need to blister pack your flapjacks
Evident ebbing of drawbacks
Raises the bar for the sad sacks
The good life, so Kodak
So long as you don’t sidetrack
Selfie people hide in haystacks
Hoarding their golden tie tacks
Shall we ponder how to give back
Go beyond the dusty knickknack
Respect deserves a worthy payback
Not a flimsy whimsy kickback
Society requests a comeback
Being barefoot has it's pros and cons
as you probably already know.
If you're just lazin' round the house,
barefoot's the way to go!
But, it can have its drawbacks too,
especially on a hike,
walking on hot pavement,
or peddling on a bike!
There is no greater feeling,
being barefoot in the sand.
To stroll along the beach front,
with a loved one, hand-in-hand.
So anytime I get the chance
and the situation's right,
I throw aside the socks and shoes,
being barefoot feels so right!
I love being barefoot, whenever I can.
My toes don't like being confined.
It makes me feel much more relaxed
and it helps me to really unwind.
Whatever troubles we teachers undertake
We change you to truth from clear fake.
Teachers are doing work hard for your sake
Want you all to be like sweet and quiet lake
Whose water is drunk by all people in quake.
We teachers who work like an object opaque
Who stop harsh and heavy rain at daybreak.
We never care for our brain, body or backache
Whenever we see or feel hurt by your mistake.
What we expect from you is not any fruitcake;
But sincere efforts made by you for your sake.
Though sometimes you were beaten with stake,
It was solely for your own drawbacks to rake
So that I wished to make you well-known Sheik
Whom nobody on this cruel earth can overtake.
So have teacher’s respect for teacher's sake.
Whatever troubles we teachers undertake
We change you to truth from clear fake.
Just think resolutely
Don't waste your energy to think many,
Writing poem is a talent which never end.
Don't think its bad or good just write in woods.
Become jovial the poem may become memorable.
Read them as more as you can
No mistakes would fly and you would become a great man
In thrice is not require
At once is enough to fire.
Slowly the poem gets evolved
Bad memories of poem gets destroyed
You move to next level
From unknown get changed to a person.
Let's. Breathe the air which simply go on,
Whit out getting pressure writing is to go on.
Who said that poem is a long story?
Who said that in a poem rhyming scheme is necessary?
A poem can be Normal
Formal or Informal.
Why do you get the fear of poem?
To great poets let us join.
To write a poem,know how to write
Just express your brain in words
You correct if you get some drawbacks
Then you exclaim,"I know to write."
Poet - Surjendra Das (Pen Name - Rudyard Jostle).
Epilogue, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem : Epilogue
By way of a Farewell to « personal » poetry. Paul Verlaine, March 1895
(Towards the end of his rather short and tumultuous life, Verlaine in this poem – after composing somewhat in the manner of his times by distilling his own expériences in rhymed and fixed stanzaic forms - makes us believe wishes to put an end to his « personal » compositions. He died of pulmonary congestion on January 8, 1896.
T. Wignesan)
So, therefore, Farewell Dear me-Myself
That which decent people have held to blame.
The poor people ! Who put much love to flame
Remain much flattered (Lady, as when she loves herself !)
Farewell, Dear Me, joy and chagrin
Of which, it seems, I spoke of far too much
That no one wants more of : I have done with such.
From now on , I must my Self drown.
In the heart of hearts – how might one holler ?
Of Impersonal Art, and to take a dignified stand
That I assume a cold-blooded stance,
To celebrate you ! O ! Walhalla !
For, Buddha, to celebrate your rites
And your customs in all countries !
And as for those of my country, O ! Ssh !
Talk of your drawbacks and your merits.
And in breath-stopping plays
Amidst novels put together synthetic
Or, well, in the manner analytic,
Stretch myself out in stupefying tropes !
Farewell, Dear Me-Myself, out of work
I feel the numbness of the tomb already
Casting sneaky glances at us through beauty
On towards a project for unique-headed Art
Farewell ! Heart ! No need for more fare-thee-wells :
This’s a little like mud somewhat
Piled up on one’s austere Head – and over Art –
What with these « unresolved farewells ».
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
A madman pushed me off the track, lucky not much harm
I sat in the Hospital waiting room with just a broken arm.
They handed me a form to fill, 20 genders, 10 types of race -
I tore the sheet with my good arm and walked out of that place.
I walked past a park, a man dropped a syringe, gave me a stare
I walked past a crazy woman preaching to the air.
I walked past teens speaking to their phones but not each other.
Saw expressions I couldn’t read - an enemy or a brother?
I remembered the in-crowd whose moral sight was blind
I wanted to leave their dubious fads behind
I walked past the demonstrators, their justice leads to blood:
We may need a Noah's ark from the oncoming flood.
I walked along the Palisades, the river on my right.
I perked up because the old roads, the boat basins came in sight.
I jogged on the Long Path, crossing Bergen County, then Rockland too.
Turned inland and ended up in a children's petting zoo.
There were the black hats - Jews of a Hasidic sect.
I spoke with one woman; she looked at me with undeserved respect.
It was a change from the jaded people I often met
Wondered what the secret was, is a religious way correct?
Those Jews might not surf the internet, they might not watch TV.
And when they move en masse into a town they spark animosity.
But what struck me there was something clean and true.
As she pointed out the exotics in that petting zoo.
Since then I've been to Lancaster, where the Amish live an older way
That lifestyle has its drawbacks too, there are always shades of gray.
I've visited Salt Lake, where Mormons spurn drugs for recreation
A visitor described them as the handsomest in the nation.
I like my way of life, but other ways make me think
Do we really need social media, or drugs, an evening drink?
Would we be better people, if some things we didn't know?
Should we stand against the current, or go with culture's flow?
Do we really need the likes, the scroll that never ends?
Can we stop and read a while, or try to make real friends?
Can we set anchor in a place where lies don’t get through?
Can we cure our sick republic, retain what’s proven true?
The little old woman who lived in a shoe
Wasn't the SOLE owner
Apparently there were strings attached
Wow that was a real groaner
I have never been a big fan of archery
Too many DRAWBACKS, for me
Rookie pirates make terrible singers
Can't really hit the HIGH SEAS
For plumbers a flush sure beats a FULL HOUSE
And I'm not talking poker here
Have you heard about that origami store
The damn thing FOLDED it appears
In a room where the curtains were DRAWN
The rest of the furniture was real
“Love” means ZERO to tennis players
That didn't have a lot appeal
The butcher backed into the meat grinder
And got a little BEHIND in his work
Heard it before but it's one of the good ones
Let's celebrate and pop the cork
Do you know the real definition of a will
It's a DEAD giveaway
Spring’s fading flowers
Worn down rocks on riverbeds
Trees losing their leaves
Is this growing old?
Is this what it is to age?
Not if you get there…
Spring’s perennials
The rivers water flowing
The trees budding leaves
The ones who fight age
Still lose to time in the end
The dance crude and vain
Those that grow with age
Gain wisdom, moments of joy
The dance elegant
Sincerely live life
Honestly love and be loved
Truly be happy
Unfortunately
Life’s lessons can be cruel, hard
But still there’s meaning…
Into the bargain
Life’s lessons make one stronger
If you choose to learn…
You have to grow up
But stay a child in your heart
And you won’t grow old
Age is the price paid
But the cost is no real loss
And profits are big
The wealth of your life
Is how many friends you have
Not how much money
The income, wisdom
To find your bliss in spirit
To learn, teach, live, love
Called the golden years
Some would say age is a curse
Really rusty years
Age has its drawbacks
The body starts to break down
The mind wanders off
Age is a challenge
Getting old can try your soul
Sometimes breaks your heart
Aging can be hard
Sometimes there’s sickness and pain
Loved ones pass away
Though we lose someone
They will live on in our hearts
Until it’s our time
We don’t know God’s plan
Sometimes we live a long life
Age is the reward
Cherish every day
Live your life to the fullest
Make good memories
Age is a gift from God
Wondrous metamorphosis
Like a butterfly
Grow old with your love
Are the best years yet to be?
The age-old question…
Our hearts one with Yours with brothers' accord,
we have common foes whose downfall is due.
April honors your resurrection, Lord.
Help us abandon idols we adored
as we pledged our full allegiance to You,
our hearts one with Yours with brothers' accord.
Guide me, dear Savior, as I read your Word;
show me your insight as drawbacks accrue.
April honors your resurrection, Lord.
Broken promises You've always abhorred;
my own brittle faith I hereby renew,
our hearts one with Yours with brothers' accord.
Audacious lying no longer ignored,
God, let this Christian convey what is true.
April honors your resurrection, Lord.
Jesus, your fellowship brings rich reward
when we surrender a selfish world view.
Our hearts one with Yours with brothers' accord;
April honors your resurrection, Lord.
July 12, 2020
Sotto Poet, contest: Springtime Villanelle