Best Enacted Poems
Fourth of July, Independence Day for the United States, and
On the news political speeches praising the nations heritage, then
Reading of the declaration in deep proud voices and joyful singing.
The country will celebrate with parades and fireworks and ceremonies,
Hanging the flag outside their homes and having picnics with streamers.
On army bases there will be a salute of one gun shot for each state, and
From radios and TV the most popular song will be The Star Spangled Banner.
Jumping children with balloons red, white, blue floating, and
Under tents the barbecues will be cooking those big ball park dogs.
Love of the nation will be on every lip and in every single heart, then
Years of patriotic events will be re-enacted outside in a show of national pride.
___________________________________
June 29, 2015
Acrostic
For the contest, Celebrate Independence, sponsor, Kim Merryman
Third Place
Shadow Play
While Freud sits at the mind end of the couch phallus in hand
shapes others’ dreams in unspoken imposition ‘must-abation’
analyses abuses his daughter in metaphorical incest projects
his own aggressive sexual drives and neurotic megalomania
Jung after killing the father figure sits with and under shadows
gathers the zenith of clouds rays collects collective conscience
unconsciousness retrieves ancient symbols propagates mythical
archetypes to archetypical conclusions reflects tainted sunshine
He forges gently I surmise poles and vaults of contradictions
opposites polar juxtapositions seemingly un-mutual mysteries
and ponders light and darkness tearing torn apart thus healing
in the complementing contrast of void change completeness
Where Freud posits polymorph perversity bit by sexual bitter
sweet bit in a bid for so called science of mind over matter Jung
morphs perpetual change crafted and cast through a different
lens admits to poetic licence narration oral traditions and growth
******** in mind not of the ***** castrated in fear not envious of
phallic dominance over clitoral defence wombs groomed entombed
by guilt transgression sexual submission shallow **** oral penile
ossification of flaccid resurrection Jung begs and offers to differ
In complex incomplete never-ending search a path from change to
change and beyond dialectical synthesis played enacted in parallel
processes and progressive psychological drama of a different kind
he much kinder more reflective less regressive and adventurous
Lets shadows erect and paint play dance reflect and move on
16th August
in the night, he reaches, my body responds, aching to be near
yet the mind screams, pulls back inside its deep recesses
familiar pain rears, sits nonchalantly, laughing, taunting me
is it I who am loved or am I just involved in the act of love
the end justifying the means, a single moment, a brief interlude
conveniently remembered and enacted, how can one truly tell?
I opened my heart and yet I know, I'm not what he was looking for
the knowledge leaves me cold and saddened, ice forming around my core
rejection, inferiority, second best, all words that accurately describe
yet leave no telltale signs of the great pain that they have inflicted
reality and yet my hands roam freely his body as I welcome him inside
to lie buried deep within my being, my heart beating furiously
the sheer joy of being loved blocking out the fear, feeding on hope
even if his emotions are not real, every fibre of my being yearns
to one day capture all his love, to see it expressed in his eyes
to silently carve my essence indelibly upon his heart,
to feel it in his smiles warmth, as his eyes adore each curve
the knowledge that says you are mine and I will love you always
everyone wants perfection, those that know that they are not
nor ever will be the one, suffer from the lies of perfection
so here I lie, accepting the very little that is being offered
praying to someday find more, existing in that in between world
between shadow and light, where nothing is clear, everything is shaded
needing to be perfection to someone, as I breathe deeply with eyes drifting into
my dreams, helplessly staring across the bed of my future
The night is young
And enticing
Still, a lump weighs heavily on my heart
As I sit by the window
And reflect on the cause of life!
Pray, it would seem that, somehow
People get so engrossed in life
That they forget about its illusory power
Or,
Is it that they simply choose
To pretend to forget about it
And to concentrate on its joys!
Why, life bothers me
It moves me
It pains me
It is like a trap
A wonderful scene painted
Made of a most luscious clear watered pond
But, the moment you approach it
Creatures of darkness jump out
And pull you in,
In their cage where you become
Like laboratory rats spinning on wheels
Going faster and faster
Going nowhere
Yet, having to keep on moving
For such is what is expected!
Pray, the night is still young
Frogs croak tirelessly
Engaged in their own symphony
Leaves rattle by carelessly
Propelled by the winds
Rain drizzles over from the sky
And I can only think of that which life has taken from me
As well as that which I secretly desire
But which I may never get!
Pray, the lump weighing over my heart is growing
Almost as if it were a carnivorous plant
Existing there, in my inner garden
Ready to destroy everything that I treasure
From my memories
To my romantic aspirations!
Why, life is such
Made to be a mere game
Enacted by you and me
But being ruled by the powerful will of Fate
And Death!
Why, on this cold night
I can only sit and reflect
Saddened and burdened!
For Contest:
Sad Free Verse 2017
Sponsored by Laura Loo
Written on 28 July 2017
How far down do you need to go_
~to stand face to face and toe to toe_
~with that no-good son of a so and so?
Taking not only yourself but all you know.
Descending from on high to deep below_
How many of your friends are now your foe?
Rejecting all the trials meant to help you grow.
Didn’t you get the message or read the memo?
To suffer a little today and not eternal woe?
Did you forget the law of_ “Reap and Sow”?
You can’t ride with the devil_ you’re too slow_
He’s got the best saddle around this rodeo.
Lines his horse up four to a row_
Apocalyptic stallions galloping to and fro.
Charging full speed ahead with resilient gusto
Scorching hot winds from their lungs to blow_
Upon all those whose souls don’t glow_
From hot veins where passion flow_
~and fight to reject vile secret audio
~silent messages broadcast on radio.
Mind control media from news to talk show.
Wouldn’t go near him as far as I can throw.
Best not stomp around but quietly tiptoe.
Take your heart off your sleeve keep it undertow.
If you failed today try again tomorrow
For your deeds complies_ gifted wrapped in a bow
Your final payment is what you’ll come to owe.
Your bold stance morphs a wispy cameo.
Ill-fated effects of enacted domino.
How far down do you need to go_
~to stand face to face and toe to toe_
~with that no-good son of a so and so?
Taking not only yourself but all you know.
Descending from on high to deep below_
Scribe Under Fire
The wall had been there for an eternity
closing gaps of time and sacred places
field stones memories and gentle caress
Hans could not write any longer any
shorter it was too loud and far too quiet
the truth did not escape the lonely
fortress of sheltered dreams’ betrayal
He had lost a touch of his mind and a hand
already in previous senseless exchanges
luckily he was born tough and left handed
before right became wrong and left was a crime
When the trenches had become thicker
with blood bodies sticky bayonets guts
gore debatable glory and forlorn medals
Hans wrote from the depth of soul and despair
Hell bombs grenades shrapnel and agony
enacted a torrid cacophony of fire and noise
his nostrils became scorched while his ears
refused to hear and to listen any much longer
Scribbling poetry on the back of cigarette packets
his molten fountain pen fused with his mind
and he fought for his life his sanity and one
terminal act of kindness morale and advice
Hans could not release even one more shot from the
gun dangling from overburdened shoulders but
the sergeant shouted ‘attack you wretched coward
for King and for country for honour and sweet victory’
It had been a modern war and someone must have
known about shell shock or post traumatic disorder
but when they executed him with clean merciless shots
from a nameless firing squad because it was not for refusal
But for spreading fake news about the beauty of war for
sabotaging innocent minds of future generations for
soldiering with a mighty pen and not with a glittering
sword so he was shot at the wall for writing and not fighting
September 2018
Sitting quietly, breathing in and out
Centred presence feels blissful and complete
Bliss strobes within let out a silent shout
Our vaporised self’s awash at God's feet
Time ticks away but we are oblivious
Grazed by bliss mists, we feel its benign burn
Ignition within is continuous
This play is enacted in body urn
When life beckons us, we go out to play
The game is simply embrace and release
To the cadence divine we gently sway
Flowing gently as does the morning breeze
There being no one here to weigh and size ~
Each breath we take, is imbibed in surprise
13-January-2023
Life in Africa was full; years in the bush, a treat.
Music made us happy; drums sounded for dancing feet.
A loving life with family always made us smile.
Living together freely, we never knew defeat.
Greedy slave hunters sailed down the Nile.
Chained us below with feces and bile,
Our curiosity was a big mistake!
We lived like that for a long bad while.
Sold to the highest bidder at the market by the dock,
Herded off to cotton fields, we became their livestock.
Forced to do hard labor; whipped until bare backs bled.
Rest would never come as time ticked on the clock.
The life of a slave was hard work; at least we were fed.
Some rested in cottages, others in a shed.
Scorching sun, sweat, blood, the whip did not feel good.
Calling a white man, “Master”, a slave’s daily dread.
Even in the best conditions, the human spirit was not free.
Mistreated; folks who could not take it were shot trying to flee.
A man could dream of Africa and his family all day.
Divided and sold into slavery a painful loss to see.
The Underground Railroad helped slaves run away.
Their owners and hounds tried to catch each stray.
Some of the lucky ones were never found.
Those who were caught for their lives had to pray.
Lincoln tried to free all slaves; the Klu Klux Klan still frowned.
John Wilkes Booth picked up his gun and shot the President down.
Slaves were free per history, but it was not as expected.
For even after the Civil War, burning and lynching did abound.
About one hundred years later, the issue was resurrected.
Rosa Parks stood up for her rights; NAACP directed.
The Civil Rights Movement brought freedom at last.
President Kennedy addressed the nation; equality enacted.
Say what you want about China's Family Planning Policy
regarding one child only to be born into a family.
This is a responsibility that we all should embrace personally
but it will most likely be enacted into law eventually universally
otherwise we're going to overpopulate ourselves right into poverty.
Our entire planet will be destined to be
one big mother of a third world country,
and that's why I got a vasectomy.
Love shall be the easiest word; to say.
Though deeper than any words do go,
Harder in ways that anyone may show.
True love so much more such anyway.
Shall wipe out any form of dismay,
If veracity of heart is graciously slow.
When mixed with eyes that seem to glow.
Tenderness rewarding, true loves array.
More than any act, that enriches pleasure.
Flows from, enacted verses; unspoken,
Spirited rapture, with hormonal divide,
From the soul; pure golden treasure,
Enriches feelings beyond any token,
Heavenly bond ensues; when two coincide.
It was in eighteen eighty-six in the streets of Chicago,
where the greatest miscarriage of justice people would know
transpired in an infamous labor-police rendezvous.
Albert Parsons led eighty thousand people on revue.
The strikers marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue.
The Knights of Labor were sponsors for the work stoppage venue.
Demands for shorter work hours and no child labor were made.
This would be regarded as the world’s first May Day parade.
Thousands nationwide would join in with the activities
In the next few days, the striking workers stopped whole industries.
On the third, some strikers and police engaged in melees.
These actions resulted in two ill-fated fatalities.
The struggles also caused some severe hideous injuries.
The fights took place at the McCormick Harvester Company.
Many held the police for murderous culpability.
Organizers from the Knights of Labor held a mass rally
at the Haymarket in Chicago’s West Loop vicinity.
They would assemble there in the early part of May.
Thousands crowded there peacefully on the month’s fourth day.
Leaflets were passed noting the police for murder to the crowd
as anarchists urged the mobs to join forces and shout aloud.
A bomb thrown at the police catalyzed an altercation.
One officer was killed and others hurt in the explosion.
Matthias Degan was the officer fallen in duty.
Seven other policemen died later from an injury.
The police opened fire on the people immediately.
At least eleven of the strikers were shot at fatally.
Eight men stood trial for the death of police officer Degan.
They were Parsons, August Spies, George Engel, Samuel Fielden,
Adolf Fischer, Louis Lingg, Michael Schwab, and Oscar Neebe.
All eight were tried and found guilty by a judge and jury.
Neebe got fifteen years; the others got the death penalty.
Schwab and Fielden were commuted to life; then got clemency.
Lingg took his own life before his scheduled execution.
The remaining four men were hanged in public exhibition.
Since then, there have been enacted many labor reform laws
The men who died are considered martyrs to a noble cause.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this
poem.
Get the 'Nick' of Prime.. Transforming TV time.'
With questions well 'couched' what's the take' all about?
Negating generic preconception
Being His signature intention
Shaking the Quo is His 'art' status shows..'
unmasking 4 the nation those veiled sinuation
With His inimitable way; and ingenuity say
Honest enacted neither trite, nor retracting..
Not a ham per se that's my view by the way.'
Creation-sensation? (its your choice)
Now..' get us to the revelations..!
© Joe Maverick 6-3-2015
Nothing that you say
Is ever lost; it's filed away
Goes down in history
In someone's memory
And everything you do
Is traceable to you
Be as kind as you can be
Living your biography.
Every contact leaves a trace
Every line in your face
All the stigma of disgrace
All the splendour of good grace.
That secret hideaway
Lights up with D.N.A.
The practiced jewelled smile
Belies an inner guile
A wayward sinful thought
Enacted, sees you caught
Be as true as you can be
Living your biography.
Gov'ners were jealous and zealous the satraps -
One had received uncalled-for promotion.
With design to malign, these guys enacted
a divine trap for this fella's devotions.
"Accept this new law," they said, "Except to you,
O Great King, no petitions can be uttered."
A crusade to degrade, they watched Dan's window,
As he stepped up and prayed, boldly un-shuttered.
Their wily ruse worked and while he was kneeling,
they trotted off to the king and tattled.
Daniel was content to be pent up with lions,
but King Darius spent the night rattled.
Unarmed and unharmed, Dan stayed with the beasts.
In the morning, the king raced to the hole.
The lions in a daze; sudden praise he spoke,
"I'm amazed, God has delivered you whole."
Hear futile complaints among brutal beasts;
Officials are punished with fear and trembling.
They take a fair turn in the lair as ordered
God takes care of revenge for dissembling.
(dissembling means misleading)
based on the account in Daniel 6:1-24
to accompany the painting by Briton Riviere, Daniel's Answer to the King,
it seems Daniel continues to pray to his God inside the lion's den
To a rhythm my feet were moving.
Left, right, T.A.N.G.O.
Moving at a pace full of life and spirit.
A willing partner I had.
Twirl, pause, five steps always ahead.
Stamp and up he holsters me.
He was best with the twist.
My hips would gyrate.
Moving at the steady pace of his grasp.
Completely igniting my body fiercely.
I could not help but change my pace.
To a beat from Santana
I enacted to a tarantella dance.
Feeling his strong hands;
Hold, feel, touch and inflict.
Aphrodisiac some would say.
Perfect partner I thought.
1, T.W.O.S.T.E.P. we go
1, 2 he leads me.
I follow like a loyal dog, the irony.
I loved dancing.
I loved dancing with him.
Cha-cha he changed the pace.
Cha-cha I felt my heart beat.
His hands slithering.
His body away from me it went.
Coming back again for a sultry dance of shag.
The dream partner I needed.
Zouk he dances again.
Paso-doble he serenaded.
My heartbeat getting stronger.
My feet moving willingly.
Moving closer.
His hands grabbed me softly closer.
Waltzing he teased the tip of my nose.
Moving slowly down to my lips.
Allemande our arms where.
He whispered in a tricotee tone.
Au revoir my sweet.
I’m sorry to be such a bag.
But our dance has come to an end.
Cakewalk he strode away.
A partner he was to me.
But never was I to him.
Fox trot I complimented myself.
A fool I felt as I broke in a hora dance alone.
My perfect partner was gone.
I guess those who understand dance moves will understand this, but Im pretty sure its understandable ;-)
© Herzel Poshiwa