Best Egged Poems
I wished to ascend,
so I called a friend,
who knew of such things
and how to grow wings.
‘God’s abode’s within’,
he said, ‘so begin,
by simply choosing,
head and heart, fusing’.
‘Each impulse distil,
aligned with His will’.
So I set out thus,
aboard God’s love bus.
I reached heaven’s gate
and there chose to wait,
for the gate was locked,
so I stood there docked.
A voice then affirmed
that I’d have discerned,
the gate’s my ego,
which I must forgo.
Once there’s no blockage
and no desires rage,
cleansed of every sin,
I may then walk in.
I cowered in fear,
for my life was dear.
What’s left, if I die?
Is heaven, a lie?
Conscience egged me on,
ego shorn, reborn,
the false dropped away;
I saw then God’s play!
I was living light,
shining day and night.
The gate was but thought,
fears, ego begot.
The manifest world,
but intent unfurled,
to know all are one,
each being God’s son.
Life’s a lucid dream,
where thought forms do stream.
To exit this game,
simply take God’s name.
The rot’s sunk in deep.
How long will we sleep?
There’s no gate, dear friend.
Vaporise! Ascend!
23-June-2022
One In Five Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Syllables: HMS
Categories:
egged, dream, god, spiritual,
Form:
Jueju
The boatman jabbered, “Ten rupees for each,
For a cool ride down the Chilika Lake”,
We egged on the elders, their child within,
The wooden boat, barely a few feet long,
Holding hands, brown and sturdy we climbed on,
Through the obtuse bending, welcomed us warm,
The boatman oars, stirs still waters about,
Tall grasses tickle the sides of the boat,
Nudging it slow, out of the serene shore,
The soft mud surfaced, soon bubbled away,
A leaf large of lotus gladly made way,
The frog caught lounging, swiftly dived away,
The evening sky, bright orange and gleaming,
A beautiful sun preparing to ease,
Right under the horizon, cackling geese,
Jellyfish soaring to breathe in the play,
White bodies against transient amber haze,
Surrounding our boat to pay their homage
Graceful ivory cranes, their young and new,
Downy feathers fluff, their eyes start to droop,
In the tangerine sundown, sight to scoop,
The bank reached, the journey hypnotic,
As the beauty of nature, exotic,
A mystic boat ride on Chilika Lake!
Categories:
egged, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
OWSZAT
The match was slow and boring
The runs were far between,
And an air of dreamy somnolence
Hung o’er the village green.
Then out from the pavilion
A handsome figure ran.
The crowd sat up, paid notice,
A loud applause began.
The stranger sprinted round the pitch
Disrupting all the match,
The fielder halted in his stride
And dropped an easy catch.
The umpire tried to intervene
His finger raised in protest,
The streaker slipped beneath his guard,
It really was no contest.
The team stood up and egged him on
And cheered as he gained speed,
It was a very daring act
They one and all agreed.
But when his little dangly bits
Removed the Home Team’s wicket,
A cry went roaring round the ground
“Egad Sir – that’s not cricket!”
Categories:
egged, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
The Amadawn ‘ave played the joker
for the Good folks fairy Coort
‘T was they ‘ave egged the paper birches
an’ touch’d the scare crow’s stalks.
They ‘ave giv'n leerin pumpkin ‘eads
to Dullahan black ‘eadless ‘orse.
Tied the liein’ Leprechain’s tongues.
Changed the dread Pooka’s course.
Stol'n the noble Banshees keen moan.
an ‘idden ‘er bone white comb.
They ‘ave lured two changeling lovers
to Red Man’s bloody ‘ome.
N’er free since June, the jesters play
their brash tricks on Samhain’s eve.
Stealin’ all the gifts left fur the dead
‘neath mournin’ mortals trees.
N’t till the sunrise will they lave off
wid ‘ the Leprechauns in toe.
And sadly scurry ‘omeward bound
sure laven us all alone!
Categories:
egged, adventure, fantasy, funny
Form:
Quatrain
“You have to get a job, my son,
Your mother and I agree.
You can’t spend your life just loafing around,
Sponging on her and me.”
And, although it went against the grain,
I realized I must.
So I got a job as a baker
To earn an honest crust.
My father and mother egged me on
And, to make sure I wasn’t lazing,
They bought me an alarm clock,
So I could be self-raising.
I made the occasional bloomer,
As anyone new might have done.
I forgot to turn the oven on
And invented the cold cross bun.
My rich fruit cake was sometimes poor;
My sponge cake sometimes flat.
But now I have the hang of it,
I’ve got it all off pat.
I’m really on a roll now,
Forever on the go.
I have to keep on working,
Because I kneed the dough.
31st May 2022
Merger With Food poetry contest
Sponsor Natasha L Scragg
Categories:
egged, food,
Form:
Rhyme
SKYLARK
Tenderness in the cotton powder skies above, fly little skylark
Within these clouds milky white, soaring through the veils of
Nirvana, sing tiny song bird with graces flight of beauty beneath,
Sway against the canvas clarity, blanketed by crystal cleared blues
Hewes splendor divine!
Angled breezes usher currents of waved softness, uplifting,
Delicate wings spreading wide, embracing the dawn’s first
Rays of light, shimmering in the bursting brilliance's cast,
In reflective colors of God’s eternal rainbow, does it not
Shine so in perfections afterglow!
Glide ever freely on gossamer feathers appendages, as
Ivory vapors milt away separating in this rolling abyss
Of atmospheric mists, drifting with elegance timeless
Abandonment, carried upon the very breath of angels
Frothy foam of spiritual faith!
Side shift morning’s skylark, between multi-colored shafts
Streaming from heights glory of divinities finery, admits
Textures array cascading downwards, dissolving, vaporizing
Into the oceans aquatic spray of tranquility, lying underneath
The heavens magnificent horizon!
At twilight’s fading hour this graceful winged song bird
Descends, unto the wilderness canopy evergreen.
Nestled amongst the leafy tree tops, lies her cradled
Nest of generations, sheltering those echoing
Voices yet to be heard, held captive within
Warmth’s birthing shells, beneath loving wings
Of graces mothering!
Harken the stirring within these egged time capsules,
What musical bursting shall greet the futures dawning,
Nay the harmony of perfections natural glory sing,
At the winged skylarks chorus soaring, to awaken
The sunrises majestic elegance!
Tenderness in the cotton powder skies above, fly little skylark
Within these clouds milky white, soaring through the vials of
Nirvana, sing tiny song bird with graces flight of beauty beneath,
Sway against the canvas clarity, blanketed by crystal cleared blues
Hewes splendor divine!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
egged, beauty, bird, fantasy, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Eagles fly
Minds soar
While Eagle flies
soaring off ahead
echoing upriver cries
to where s/he became
back before
Egged on
Eagles fly
Fertile minds soar...
Categories:
egged, confidence, flying, integrity, journey,
Form:
Metrical Tale
It started when I was young.
I chose to take a walk on the wild side.
I drove my parents insane with my deeds.
I pushed everything good away.
I was bad, evil to the core.
Lying, stealing and cheating were all I knew.
Then the drugs and sex overtook me.
Riding on the slippery slope to Hell.
Satan had my heart, mind, body and soul.
He wouldn’t let me go.
I didn’t want him to.
I wanted my life of misery.
It was good to me.
I fell hard into his snare.
I really felt that was where I belonged.
It was a place to call home.
All my friends egged me on.
As I played games with the Devil.
I drew closer and closer to him.
Through Tarot and the Occult.
Witchcraft, casting spells.
It was so intense.
I never wanted my ride to end.
I was on top of the world.
Living in the fiery pits of Hell.
He reached down to where I was.
He took my hand and pulled me out of the muck.
He saved me.
Showed me a new way of life.
No more lying, stealing or cheating.
The need for drugs was gone.
I was taught how sex could be beautiful and pure.
I was free of Satan’s grasp.
He no longer had control over me.
My heart, mind, body and soul now belong to another.
He loves me.
In spite of the terrible things I’ve done, he really loves me.
He’s forgiven me.
Can you believe that?
Sent His Son to die for ME!
It was on a cross on a hill far away.
The Father couldn’t even watch as His Son paid the price for me.
All for Me!
Now my sins are all forgiven.
The Devil’s hold on me broken.
I am free!
Free to have faith, to hope and to love.
The best news of all is that the Son is coming back for me!
Right now, this very second, He’s working on my place.
My glorious home in Heaven!
Categories:
egged, faith, forgiveness, hope, recovery
Form:
Free verse
Word Weapon
I let go of train of thought when I notice a person getting caught, and abused by another person in the form of cursing or some sort to have that person feel distort....and after that person is abused...and used to amuse...suicide becomes
their last resort....word weapons are such a discretion...
Stop the Word Weapons...Stop the Word Weapons...!!
Stop the words weapons that are being used more than machinery...
it gives people a reason to start swinging in a violent matter...after that
word weapon's egged on chit chatter....
I let go of train of thought when i notice a group of people circling another person...laughing...and giggling...pointing...and singling out one after another...
while he or she is crying...like a bullet hit deep...signs of that person's pride dieing...now rendered weak...unable to speak...misjudgement of character...like a book chapter missing....someone should say something but they act like they're not listening...
Stop the Word Weapons...Stop the Word Weapons....
Stop the Word Weapons....!!! Stop the reason for violent discretion...stop the judging...stop the pushing...and shoving...stop saying nothing...
let the abused's pride be rebuilt inside...let the weak speak....
let the shamed look up to the sky...let the quite unable to speak stop being shy...be strong instead of weak...laugh instead of cry....we all are people...we have feelings that are equal...no matter the color...let us listen to our mother when they have said...to treat others like we want to be treated...smile when being greeted...
cool off when you are heated...look with a smile instead of a frown...
'cause our father who art in heaven is looking down...wondering if we are lost...and can't be found...
United We Stand...Divided We Fall
By: Peter T. DeSpirito 8/12/2012
Categories:
egged, abuse, courage, hate, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today
Today
I noticed a small leaf float from the lush canopy and land on grass
then vanish to infinity
I sensed a primal need to amend outcome of events carried within
ominous clouds of ambiguity
I painted a virtual picture of tomorrow exorcizing enmity for amity
nestled amid spheres of possibility
I pondered a rational cause and effect of iniquitous acts as pivotal
moments silently succumb to anonymity
I aimed a magic dart at a wounded heart liberating its final breath
annihilating sufferings incurred from inhumanity
I tamed a wild squall then ask sky goddesses to remedy a tragedy
where naivete had awaken to a confounding dichotomy
I egged a crystal ball to right flawed perceptions of an alien entity
responding to hard unrelenting questions demanding clarity
I chased a black hole moving at the speed of light like gamma ray
driven by the force of weightlessness and in my being a nonentity
I dreamed a dream that annul obduracy making my visions reality
unveiling unknown horizons giving humanity a passage to eternity
I deemed a sleep did not befall; I was just imagining what may be
while sunbeams vanished during the most vital instants of the day
then planets skillfully danced with the night as stars wander freely.
Today...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Miniscule seeds planted as dreams...in every imaginable reality"
08/10/2022
2:28 P.M.
Aboard cruise liner:
Rhapsody of the Seas
Categories:
egged, imagination, metaphor,
Form:
Monorhyme
Here she come in a cloud of rage.
Who?
Violet.
Shut up, you know that’s my baby.
Hovering with her beauty as we speak.
She crazy man, she crazier than Sofia.
Monica, why show sour grapes for
my love of violet?
As a friend I have to tell you
that you sound plum, stupid.
As long as I can be her Prince.
Be her pick from all the shrub,
as music, strums.
She weeds through the fog, the haze
and with hungry eyes, see…
Ernie, you know how many
sorry saps that love Violet.
So, whine.
Throw an almost stormy fit
because you’re squished feelings are
comical to the girl with the long loosie.
Sit, calm they’re all pictured blue
for that tan, bimbo.
You mad cause she accidentally stomped on your donuts
that one time.
You dang right and how can you accidentally stomp donuts?
Well anyways for seasons as skies turn
she's always posted like she's the shine for the end of days.
Smirking at your egged face.
So plant it boy. Perp...pull back.
She don't want you.
You're not that girls primary focus.
2/14/18 "Sunrise and sunset" - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Categories:
egged, art, aubade, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
On All Hallows Eve, darkness balks
The fields are full of crisp cornstalks.
The boyo's have egged the paper birch
and left their lassies alone at church.
A red moon lights a flight of hawks,
a murder of crows, tree high squawks.
Apples are left for ghosts who walk
and the Banshee risen from her perch
On All Hallow's eve.
So wrap your neck in a cross gold
beware the Pooka, he's foretold,
carry a Jack-o-lantern..lit
and holy water in your kit
bring a pretty lass to console
On All Hallow's Eve.
*Banshee a female spirit in Irish Lore who warns of impending death
**Pooka a shape changing goblin who oft appears as aheadless horse.
Categories:
egged, holiday,
Form:
Rondeau
A hint of helping this wholesome Harris son
can across thru the air
Hence this poetic expression
of gratitude Matthew Scott wants to blare
And communicate my genuine
appreciation crystal clear
Toward one whose existence
more valuable to me and dear
As thee doth become older
with natural diminishment with eyes and ear
But lo…tis unproductive to fear
The diminishing sands
of mortal time as cognitive gear
Doth get clogged as well as one
or the other organ allowing ye to hear
The sound of silence echoing
memories of the past – now a blur
Akin to a warm fuzzy feeling
soft as moss or lichen – precious as a coat of fur
Which tomorrows speed faster
becoming yesterday’s lore
Mixed with trials and tribulations less or more
Thickening as starch and ever more difficult to pour
From the egged on noggin blended
into one glob kept in secret store
Perhaps comprising partially healed wounds
at your heart tore
As if a drafted soldier once
in tiptop shape now to the bone years wore
Away whet dreams housed
within myths indistinguishable from truths of yore
Though I too sometimes fret
as tempus fugit slinks away
Where methinks how the years spin
at a quicker pace each day
Inculcating me to savor each moment,
whether weather sunny or gray
Taking stock of self of natural world
as one named John Jay
Audubon, who captured pristine lands
of America as a frieze zing May
Whereby bounteous creatures
large and small at play
Until…the inundation
of settlers did slash, burn and slay
Indiscriminately - setting precedent
for Earth in a precarious balance oye vay
Whence Mother Nature
will win this global Olympic match – yet
By which time, both thyself
and ye will be long turned to ash
Descendants will be dust off
faded photos of me self
before senescence did dash
Totally unaware that me papa Boyce Brandon
with clenched and teeth did gnash
When I fought tooth and nail
and without a word did lash
Back as protestations against behavior
of mine ye disliked and found rash
With frustration spilling forth
like acidic froth that did splash
Slash and burn within,
yet kept mum no matter
from within did thrash.
I LOVE YOU TOO DAD
NO MATTER BACK IN THE DAY YE GOT MAD
YET NOW, AS A FATHER TWAS FRUSTRATION
PERHAPS FUSED WITH BEING SAD
AT MY LIFE & HARD TIMES WHEREIN
TURMOIL ROILED MORE THAN A TAD!
Categories:
egged, age, boy, cry, dedication,
Form:
Elegy
Three of a kind for as long as we can
remember. Parents would shake their heads,
wonder when we’d grow up and get serious
about serious stuff. We egged each other
on. “Did you see that strawberry roan
in the field on the way to school?” “I’ll loan
you my book of ranch-girl poems!”
We loved dogs and anything with hooves,
and words that rhymed or not, that made
sense in a westwind sort of way.
We rode our imaginations bareback.
We never grew up. And now it’s come
to this – no Cowboy Poetry this year
for the old-west Wagon Train event. We’ll
meet on Main Street anyway, to watch
the teams come into town; stand
on the corner, listening for hooves
on pavement drumming to the heart. Just
the three of us reading horse poems
to each other and anyone who cares to listen.
And when the first big black Percheron
comes into view – a wagon-teamster’s Pegasus –
we’ll be flying 17-hands-high on the horses
of our never-grown-up dreams.
Categories:
egged, friendship, horse, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
A man came here to speak today,
students did not like him at all,
egged of by professors, quite enraged,
with no decency at all.
They claim we should ‘hear all sides,’
but when this man dared to speak,
they rioted and the police arrived
to end their fit of pique.
How delightfully tyrannical.
A man knelt down in quiet prayer
outside, during his break from work.
A coworker cried,”Can’t do that there!”
and proceeded to go berserk.
Yet when Khalil did the same,
facing east to find Mecca,
coworker said,”Respect their culture!
You have too, it’s the law!”
How delightfully tyrannical.
A boy applied to university,
his scores were of highest rank.
but his skin was too pale, you see,
and the admissions team, it stank.
It dropped him for a darker hue,
so it could claim it was ‘diverse.’
the poor boy was completely screwed
by academics quite perverse.
How delightfully tyrannical.
A businessman forgot to check
a small box on his tax returns.
Little then did he suspect
that this would get him burned.
Others, he knew, had been let go
for making such a small mistake,
but he did not have ‘correct’ politics,
and down came the weaponized state.
How delightfully tyrannical.
A newsman made Reifenstahl proud
when he targeted a small café,
who’s owner had said out loud
that his faith wasn’t keen on gays.
So that ‘objective’ media man
spread this guy’s private views around.
Protestors beat him till he couldn’t stand,
then left him lying on the ground.
How delightfully tyrannical.
They all come with smiles, big and broad,
they say ‘history is on our side,’
but if you do anything but applaud
they’ll crow that you should die.
Try to explain freedom to them,
they’ll proclaim you’re a fascist fool.
Try to explain individuality
and they’ll declare you racists too.
How delightfully tyrannical.
Sic semper tyrannis…
Categories:
egged, america, discrimination, evil, faith,
Form:
Rhyme